Hwa Enthusiast

You nodded. "I blocked them all. I deleted them."

Ji-eun's face didn't change, but you could see the flicker of frustration in her eyes. "Okay. We need to try and get a warrant to retrieve them. Anything else? Unexpected gifts? Seeing him where he shouldn't be?"

You told her about the times you'd seen him. The brand event he wasn't invited to. Outside your apartment building. Each incident you recounted felt small on its own, but as you laid them out, one after another, a picture began to form. A chilling portrait of obsession.

"It's a start," Ji-eun said, making notes. "We need to document everything. Every strange email, every suspicious encounter. From now on, we’ll log it all. And," she added, looking at Hyunjin, "we need to find out if anyone else has noticed this behavior. Friends, staff, anyone."

You sat up. "Felix.” You paused “Felix has noticed his behavior. He brought it up before all of this happened."

Hyunjin looked at you confused. "You didn't tell me?"

You avoided making eye contact. "I didn't know I had to."

“You should always tell me things like that. We could’ve avoided the break in.” Hyunjin started to feel upset that you didn’t tell him.

“I’m sorry. I just didn’t think it was important to bring it up. It’s not like I saw that he was being crazy. Felix brought it up, geez.” You rolled your eyes.

Hyunjin bit his tongue to avoid an argument, but he knew he had to bring it up later when you were alone together.

*:ꔫ:* 

After Ji-eun had left, the apartment felt heavy again. The temporary reprieve from the lawsuit was replaced by the task of gathering proof. Hyunjin was quiet, staring out the balcony window.

"Talk to me," you said softly, coming up behind him and wrapping your arms around his waist.

He turned in your embrace, his hands resting on your hips. "What’s the real reason you didn't tell me about how Felix felt?"

You sighed, resting your forehead against his chest. "Because I didn't want to worry you. Because a part of me still felt like he was overreacting. Like it was all just a coincidence and he was making it into something bigger than it was."

He tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes were sad, but not angry. "You can't do that. Not anymore. You can't carry this alone. If you're scared, I need to know. If you feel something is wrong, I need to know. We're a team. Remember?"

"I remember."

"Then act like it. We're in this together. All of it."

*:ꔫ:* 

Later that week, Hyunjin met with Felix at a quiet, out-of-the-way cafe.

"Please, Felix. We've been friends for years. Tell me everything you've noticed." Hyunjin practically begged Felix. He was desperate. Desperate to make life better. Desperate to make you feel safe. Desperate to make things normal and get Minho away from you.

"Did you lawyer up?" Felix was genuinely curious. Minho had spoken to him days ago about the case and had shown some messages between you and him saying how horrible Hyunjin was treating you. The only thing is, you never messaged him, but Felix didn't know that. Felix assumed the messages were real. His loyalty was now split.

"We're with Chan's lawyer. Why?" Hyunjin questioned Felix's loyalty for a second.

Felix leaned back and took a sip of his iced coffee, the ice clinking against the glass in the quiet of the cafe. "Minho came to me. Showed me some messages."

Hyunjin's blood ran cold. "What messages?"

"Between him and y/n. Saying she was unhappy. That you were controlling. That she was scared of you." 

The world tilted on its axis. Hyunjin felt a sickening lurch in his stomach. It was impossible. You two had been so connected, so intimate, especially after the lawsuit. But the seed of doubt, however poisonous, was planted. Felix's face was open, concerned. He believed what he was saying.

"Felix, that's not real," Hyunjin said, his voice strained. "You know her. You know us. He's faking them. He has to be."

"I don't know, Hyunjin. Why would he fake that? And why would she be scared of you? You're not a scary guy."

"I'm not!" Hyunjin ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "But he's trying to make me look like one! He's trying to isolate her, to make her think she has nowhere to turn but back to him. Can't you see that?"

Felix was torn, he didn't know who or what to believe. Hyunjin was frustrated. He ended up spending an hour talking to Felix trying to convince him that he wasn't the bad guy, that everything Minho said is a lie. Maybe, he also was trying to convince himself that none of it was true.

*:ꔫ:* 

Later that night when Hyunjin finally came home, beyond drunk, you were curled up on the couch watching 'The Glory' on Netflix. You heard him shuffling and making noise in the background. 

You turned to see him looking for more alcohol. "Hey babe, how was your day?" No response. You raised your eyebrow and paused the show before getting up and walking over to him. You grabbed his arm gently. "You okay?"

He snatched his arm from your grip. "Get the fuck off of me."

You stepped back, surprised at his actions. Hyunjin had never spoken to you like that. He was clearly too drunk.

You put your hand on the bottle of Tequila he pulled out. "No more. Go to bed." You said sternly, trying to hide how hurt you were. "I don't want to hear it."

"You don't want to hear it?" Hyunjin laughed humorlessly. "Typical. You never want to hear the truth."

"What are you talking about?" Your heart started to pound.

"The truth about the messages! About how you're apparently scared of me!" He was yelling now, his words slurred.

You stared at him, completely bewildered. "What the fuck are you talking about? What messages?"

"Don't play dumb with me, y/n! Felix told me everything! You've been talking to Minho! Telling him I'm controlling and you're scared!" He was shaking, not with anger, but with hurt.

You felt like you'd been slapped. "No. Hyunjin, I swear to you, I have not messaged him. He's been messaging me, and I block him every single time."

"That's not what Felix said! And he saw the proof!"

"He saw fakes, Hyunjin! You know Minho! You know what he's like when he doesn't get what he wants! He's a master manipulator. He's trying to turn everyone against us. Can't you see that?"

"I don't know what to see anymore!" He shouted, his voice cracking.

"You're drunk!" You raised your voice. "Go to fucking bed now."

Hyunjin scoffed. "You're not my mom." He walked over to the couch and sat down and pressed play. The sofa scene from the show came on and Hyunjin smirked.

You stood off to the side but in front of him. "Hyunjin."

"You wanna do that to me?" He nodded towards the TV. Yeonjin was riding Jaejun and Hyunjin was amused. 

You rolled your eyes. "You're being an asshole." You said as you shook your head.

Hyunjin's face went blank "You think I'm an asshole?" He walked over to you and got in your face. "For what? For believing you're talking to your ex? That you're secretly talking to Minho behind my back? I'm the one who’s being an asshole?" He poked your chest.

"Don't touch me." You said lowly.

"Or what? You gonna go run and tell Minho that I was mean to you?" He poked your chest again. "Go ahead. Run to him. That's all you're good at. Running away. You ran away from him when things got hard. Who’s to say you won’t run away from me?"

It was the final, cruel twist of the knife. You felt a cold rage rise up inside you, extinguishing the hurt. He didn't believe you. After everything, he didn't trust you. He was choosing to believe a manipulative ex and a confused friend over the woman he claimed to love.

"I'm done with this conversation." You turned and walked away, not to the bedroom, but to the front door. You grabbed your jacket and your keys.

"Where are you going?" He called after you, the anger in his voice now tinged with a panic he couldn't hide. He got up and quickly got to the door and grabbed the door handle. "You're not fucking leaving me."

Tears filled your eyes. "Leave me alone Hyunjin. I'm sick of this bull shit with you." You pulled his hand off the door handle and walked out of the front door. You slammed it and ran down the stairs. You didn't know where you were going, but you knew you couldn't be there. 

*:ꔫ:* 

You walked for what felt like hours, the cold night air stinging your cheeks. The city was a blur of neon lights and hurried faces, none of them seeing the storm raging inside you. Your phone buzzed in your pocket repeatedly—Hyunjin, of course—but you ignored it. You couldn't talk to him. Not now.

You ended up at a 24-hour jjajangmyeon place, the steamy, greasy air a small comfort. You sat in a corner booth, pushing noodles around your plate, your appetite gone. You felt alone in a way you hadn't since the very beginning of your breakup with Minho.

You finally checked your phone. Dozens of missed calls. A string of increasingly desperate texts.

I'm sorry. I'm so drunk. I'm an idiot. I don't know why I said those things. Please, Y/N, answer me. I'm scared. Where are you? Please come home. I need to know you're safe.

The last one made your heart ache. As much as you wanted to go home, you wanted to wait until things weren't so tense. You ended up calling Felix and he let you stay with him for a bit.

*:ꔫ:* 

Two weeks went by and you'd barely talked to Hyunjin since you left. Felix made you feel at home in his small, but cozy apartment. He ended up taking an emergency trip back to Australia and just let you housesit.

You were sitting on the couch watching a movie when your phone dinged and it was a text from Felix

Hey, forgot to tell you, but I'm having some groceries delivered. Should be there at 7. Just let them in. Love ya!

You were grateful, the fridge was empty. Around 6:55, the doorbell rang. You assumed it was the groceries a bit early. You opened the door without a second thought.

And there he was. Lee Minho.

He was holding a paper bag with the logo of a high-end grocery store. He smiled, a slow, easy smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Delivery service with a smile. I hear you're in need of some essentials."

Your blood ran cold. You tried to slam the door shut, but he was faster. His foot shot out, blocking it. He pushed it open, forcing you to stumble back into the apartment. He stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind him. The click of the lock was deafening.

"Felix told Changbin, who told Jeongin, who told me you were staying here," he said, his voice deceptively calm as he set the bag on the kitchen counter. "They're good friends. Worried about you. I was told that you and Hyunjin had a fight." He turned to look at you, his gaze roaming over you, possessive and hungry.

"What do you want Minho?" You cried out. "I will call the cops."

"What do you think I want y/n?" He stepped closer to you and took your phone from your hand. "I want what's mine. You were never supposed to leave me." He backed you up against the wall, caging you in with his body. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. "I know you're not happy. Just look at the argument you had a few weeks ago.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” You spat.

Minho grinned devilishly. “You're not safe with him, princess. But you're safe with me. You always were." His fingers came up to trace your jawline. "Remember our apartment? Overlooking the river? It's still the same. Just waiting for you. The clothes you left are still in the closet. Your favorite mug is still in the cupboard."

Every word was calculated to unnerve you, to remind you of a life he'd preserved in amber, refusing to accept that you had ever left it.

Tears streamed down your face. "You're sick."

"I'm in love," he corrected, his tone unbothered. "And I'm not going to let him ruin you. Ruin us." He saw the fear in your eyes and his expression softened into one of mock concern. "I'm not going to hurt you, y/n.  I could never hurt you. I just want to talk."

"Then talk. From over there." You said nodding to the opposite side of the room.

Minho scoffed. "I'm not talking here, in Felix’s apartment."

"Then we won't talk at all."

Minho shrugged. "That's fine." He pulled a cloth from his pocket. "I was hoping I wouldn't have to use this." He grabbed your arm and forced the cloth over your mouth and nose. The sharp, acrid scent of chemicals filled your senses. Chloroform. You fought, thrashing against him, your muffled screams lost in the fabric. But he was strong, his grip like iron. Your struggles weakened, the world tilting and blurring at the edges. The last thing you saw before darkness claimed you was Minho's face, a look of grim satisfaction etched onto his features.

*:ꔫ:* 

You woke up not in a bed, but on a plush, cream-colored rug. Your head throbbed, and a foul taste coated your mouth. The room was dimly lit, heavy curtains drawn shut. But you knew where you were. The scent of his cologne, the specific shape of the minimalist furniture, the view of the Han River you knew was just beyond those curtains. His apartment. His territory.

Your purse was on the coffee table, your phone lying beside it. As if on cue, it buzzed, lighting up with Hyunjin's name and photo. Minho, who was sitting in an armchair watching you, picked it up. He declined the call, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Minho..." You were still groggy. You couldn't remember what had happened. "Where...where am I?"

"You're where you belong, princess." He said softly.

"Take me home." You tried to get up but Minho quickly pinned you down.

"You're already home." He leaned over you. "I know you're confused, but you'll understand eventually." He stroked your hair back from your face. "I'm going to take care of you now."

"My...my phone...give it back." You reached for it.

"I can't do that. Not yet." He stood up and walked to the large, floor-to-ceiling windows. He pulled open the curtains slightly, letting in a sliver of Seoul's glittering city lights. "Look at that. Our city. We used to stand here for hours, remember? Just watching the lights."

Your mind was racing, trying to form a plan. You couldn't overpower him. He had your phone. The apartment was on a high floor, a fortress. Your only chance was to talk, to play along, to find an opening.

"I remember," you said, your voice quiet, shaky. "Minho...please. I'm scared."

He turned back to you, and for a split second, you saw a flicker of genuine something in his eyes. Concern? Regret? It was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by that unnerving certainty.

"No need to be scared anymore princess. I'm here now." Minho sat on the edge of the bed. "We can't stay here for long; this is the first place they'll come looking for you when they find out."

He was planning a disappearance. A cold dread washed over you. This wasn't about winning you back with flowers and apologies. This was about taking you.

"Minho... think about what you're doing." You said, your mind trying to stay clear. "This is kidnapping. You'll go to jail."

He laughed, a short, sharp sound. "And who's going to tell them? You? Hyunjin? Let them come. I have my ways." He looked at you. "Now, we need to pack a few things for you." He didn't move from the edge of the bed. He just watched you, as if expecting you to comply. You didn't move. You just stared back at him, a silent standoff.

The silence was broken by your phone buzzing again. Hyunjin. This time, Minho ignored it. He stood up and walked to the bedroom, opening the walk-in closet. Inside, hung a row of your clothes. Dresses you'd worn years ago, jackets you thought you'd lost. He hadn't just preserved a life; he'd curated a museum of your past.

"See?" He said, gesturing to the clothes. "I knew you'd come back. I kept everything for you." He pulled out a simple, pale blue sundress, one you remembered loving. "Ah. Perfect for the beach." He packed it into an overnight bag. You watched him pack two bags.

"What about the case?" You croaked out. "I have to testify. You'll have to let me go at some point."

"The case?" Minho scoffed. "Don't worry about the case. Hyunjin will drop it. Especially after he gets this."

He picked up your phone. You watched in horror as he typed out a message to Hyunjin.

I'm with Minho. I'm safe. Don't look for us.

Then, he went to your contact list, found Hyunjin's number, and blocked it. He then blocked Chan, Felix, Jeongin, Han, Changbin, and Seungmin. He went through your social media and changed your password, effectively cutting you off from your entire support system.

"Perfect." He said, admiring his work. "Now they'll think you left him willingly. That you finally came to your senses."

Your mind was racing. He had thought of everything. The clothes, the alibi, the digital isolation. He had been planning this for a long time. This wasn't a spur-of-the-moment decision. This was a meticulously executed mission.

"Now, let's get you cleaned up." He said, reaching for your arm. You flinched away. His expression hardened for a moment. "Don't make this difficult, y/n. I'm trying to be gentle here."

You let him lead you to the bathroom. He had run a bath already. He stripped you down and you sat in the tub. You wanted to scream, to fight, to scratch and bite. But a primal instinct for survival kept you still. You played the part of the broken, confused girl, letting him wash your hair, his fingers moving through your strands with a practiced intimacy that made your skin crawl.

"You always loved lavender baths." He murmured, more to himself than to you.

"I remember." The memory of that bath, the real one, from years ago, flashed in your mind. It had been a happy day. You'd spent the afternoon at a spa, come home, and he had drawn you a bath, replicating the scent. Now, that memory was tainted, violated.

After the bath, he handed you the blue sundress. "Put this on."

You did, your fingers fumbling with the buttons. He watched you, his gaze intense, possessive. When you were dressed, he sat you down on the bed and began to brush your long curly hair. Each stroke of the brush was a countdown, a reminder of your captivity. You looked in the mirror, at your own reflection, and saw a stranger. 

"There," He said, satisfied with his creation. "My beautiful girl. All clean and ready for our new life."

He looked down at his watch. "It's late. We're gonna miss our flight princess. Let's go."

You didn't know where you were "going" but you knew you didn't want to leave. You started to cry. You couldn't leave Hyunjin, he is the love of your life. You started to regret everything that happened. You regret fighting with Hyunjin. You wished you would've just went to bed and dealt with it after he sobered up. You were stupid enough to leave the house.

Minho didn't like your crying. He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. "Stop crying." His tone was harsh now, the gentle facade cracking. "You're going to be happy with me. You'll see. This is for the best."

He dragged you up from the bed. He grabbed the bags, and your arm, pulling you towards the front door. You stumbled along, your mind screaming for a plan, an escape. As you stepped into the hallway, you saw a woman in her seventies watering her plants outside her apartment. This was your chance. Your one shot.

"Help me!" You screamed, trying to wrench your arm free from Minho's grip. "He's kidnapping me! Call the police!"

Minho's eyes went wide with rage. He clamped a hand over your mouth, pulling you back against him. The old woman stared, her watering can frozen in mid-air, her face a mask of confusion and fear.

"She's confused," Minho said smoothly, turning on the charm for the neighbor. "My girlfriend. She's not been feeling well. A bit delusional. I’m just taking her to get some help."

The woman nodded slowly, her eyes darting between your terrified, pleading face and Minho's calm, reassuring one. 

Minho dragged you to the car and put you in the passenger seat. He tossed the bags in the backseat and got in the front seat. He immediately put the child lock on the doors so you couldn’t get out. 

Minho pulled out a pocket knife. The blade glinted under the parking garage lights. "If you do that again," he said quietly, tapping the handle against his thigh, "I swear to God you'll regret it."

Your entire body froze. The threat hung in the air. For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then Minho started the car. The rest of the drive was spent in silence. You stared out the window, trying to memorize every street sign, every turn, every landmark. Your heart pounded so hard it made your chest ache. You had to find a way out.

*:ꔫ:* 

The next afternoon, Hyunjin woke up and was still exhausted from working and dealing with brand deals all night.

He'd barely slept the night before, or at all the past two weeks, guilt gnawing at him every time he closed his eyes. The image of you crying before leaving the apartment had followed him into every meeting, every phone call, every quiet moment.

He finally sat down during a late lunch break and checked his phone. Dozens of notifications flooded his screen. One stood out immediately. It was from you. His stomach twisted as he opened the message.

I'm with Minho. I'm safe. Don't look for us.

For a second, the words didn't register. Then they did. The blood drained from his face. His phone nearly slipped from his hand. He reread the message over and over again as if the words on the screen would magically change.

His chest tightened painfully. The fight. The accusations. The way he'd spoken to you. The way you'd looked at him before walking out. He buried his face in his hands. "Fuck."

Everything suddenly made sense. You left Hyunjin, ran off and stayed with Felix. And with Felix being out of town, Minho must’ve showed up offering comfort, offering understanding, offering the version of himself he'd always wanted everyone to see. You chose him. 

Hyunjin stared at the text until the letters blurred. Part of him wanted to call and beg. Part of him wanted to get in his car and drive to Minho's apartment. Instead, he locked his phone and sat there. What if calling only pushed you further away? What if you were finally happy with the one person you did everything to get away from? The thought made him feel sick.

His eyes burned. For the first time since the lawsuit started, he felt completely helpless and heartbroken. Because after everything he'd done to protect you, he'd somehow pushed you right back into Minho's arms.

*:ꔫ:* 

Hours later, as the sun began to set, Hyunjin sat alone in the apartment. Your favorite blanket was still draped over the couch. A hoodie you'd stolen months ago hung over the dining chair. Everywhere he looked, there were ghosts.

His phone sat face-down beside him. He hadn't replied because he didn't know what to say. The apartment was unbearably quiet. For the first time, Hyunjin wondered if this was really the end.

*:ꔫ:*  

You had met him on a Tuesday.

It was the kind of day where everything feels gray. You had been living in the city for a few months, working a job that pays the bills but leaves you feeling hollow. Your friends from college were scattered across the country, and the ones who were still around were busy with their own lives. You learned to be alone without feeling lonely, or at least that's what you told yourself.

You were in a coffee shop near your apartment, laptop open, pretending to work on a project that was due the following week. In reality, you were scrolling through social media, watching other people live lives that seem infinitely more interesting than yours.

Then he walks in. Tall, with dark hair that fell just above his eyes and a smile that seemed to light up the entire room. He ordered an iced Americano, exchanged a few words with the barista that made her laugh, and then turned toward the seating area. His eyes landed on you.

For a moment, you thought he would walk right past you. But he didn’t. He stopped at your table, tilting his head slightly. "Is this seat taken?"

You glanced around. The coffee shop was half-empty. There were at least five other tables available.

But you said "No,", because you don't know what else to say.

He sat down across from you, setting his coffee on the table. "I'm Heeseung."

"Hi. I’m y/n."

"You looked like you could use some company."

You should’ve found it strange, a stranger inserting himself into your afternoon without invitation. But there was something disarming about the way he says it. Not presumptuous. Just...observant.

"I'm fine," you said, but your voice lacked conviction.

He smiled, and it was the kind of smile that made you feel like he saw through the carefully constructed walls you built around yourself. "You don't look fine."

And somehow, impossibly, you found yourself talking to him.

You told him about your job, about how you moved to the city with big dreams that slowly shrunk into something manageable. You told him about your friends who drifted away, about the loneliness that crept in during the quiet hours. You told him things you hadn’t told anyone in months, maybe even years.

He listened intently to you. Not the performative kind of listening where someone is just waiting for their turn to speak, but the kind where you actually felt the weight of his attention, the way he leaned forward slightly, the way his eyes never left yours.

When you finally stopped talking, embarrassed by how much you revealed, he reached across the table and touched your hand lightly.

"You're not invisible," he said softly. "I see you."

And for the first time in a long time, you believed it.

*:ꔫ:*  

You told yourself to be careful. You told yourself not to let him in too quickly, to take your time, and to protect the parts of yourself that have been bruised by past disappointments.

But Heeseung made it so impossible to stay guarded.

He texted you the next morning after you met. 

Thinking about you. Coffee again today?

You said yes. And then you said yes again the next day…And the day after that.

Within two weeks, he had woven himself into the fabric of your life so seamlessly that you could barely remember what your days looked like before him. He learned your coffee order by heart, the way you ate your eggs, the songs that would make you cry. He remembered all the small little details about you that you felt didn’t matter or were unnoticeable. He made you feel chosen, loved.

*:ꔫ:*  

One Saturday, three months after you met, you spent the entire day together doing nothing important.

You were at his apartment. A small one-bedroom with mismatched furniture and plants he'd somehow managed to keep alive. The afternoon sun filtered through the blinds, casting golden stripes across the hardwood floor. You were curled up on his couch, your head rested against his shoulder, watching a movie neither of you really paid attention to.

He ordered Thai food an hour before, and the empty containers were still scattered across the coffee table. You were full and warm and content in a way you hadn’t felt in years.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked, his fingers traced lazy circles on your arm.

"Nothing," you paused. "Everything. I don't know."

He shifted slightly so he could look at you. "Tell me."

You hesitated, then decided to be honest. "I'm thinking about how easy this feels. Like I've known you forever. It’s almost scary."

His smile was soft, almost shy. "I feel the same way."

"Do you ever think about the future?" you asked. "Like... where you'll be in five years?"

"All the time."

"And?" you raised an eyebrow

He was quiet for a moment, his gaze steady. "I think about you in it."

Your heart did something complicated in your chest: a flutter. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." He leaned down and kissed your forehead, then your nose, then your lips. "I think about us having a place like this, but bigger obviously. With a small dog, maybe. And bookshelves everywhere because you'll never stop buying books even though you haven't finished the ones you already own."

You laughed, swatting his chest. "Rude."

He twirled one of your curls around his finger, a habit he picked up in the beginning of your relationship. "I think about Sunday mornings where we don't have to be anywhere. Just...this. Forever."

That word forever hung in the air between you, fragile and impossibly beautiful.

"I'd like that," you whispered to him softly.

He pulled you closer, and you fell asleep there on his couch, wrapped in his arms, believing that this is what home felt like.

*:ꔫ:*  

You don't remember what the first fight you had with Heeseung was about.

Maybe it was something small. A misunderstanding, a miscommunication, a moment where one of you says something thoughtless and the other takes it the wrong way. It didn’t matter. What mattered is that it was the first time you saw the other side of him.

The side that doesn't let things go.

You were at your apartment, and the argument had been going on for over an hour. Your voice was hoarse from trying to explain yourself, from trying to make him understand that you didn't mean it the way he thought you did.

But he didn’t want to listen.

"You always do this," he said as he paced back and forth across your living room. "You say things and then act like I'm crazy for being upset."

"I'm not saying you're crazy."

"Then what are you saying?"

You took a breath, trying to stay calm. "I'm saying that maybe you're reading too much into it. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"But you did."

"I know. And I'm sorry. But you have to meet me halfway here, Heeseung. You can't just—"

"Can't just what?" His voice became sharp. "Can't just care? Can't just be hurt when the person I love says something shitty?"

"That's not fair."

"None of this is fair."

The silence that followed was suffocating. You stared at each other across the room, and for the first time since you met, you didn’t recognize the person standing in front of you.

"Maybe if you weren't so fucking cold all the time, I wouldn't have to fight so hard to get through to you."

Those words landed like a slap.

You knew he was aiming for the part of you that was always afraid of being too much or not enough. The part that learned early on to keep people at arm's length because letting them in meant giving them the power to hurt you. He knew this about you because you told him, cried to him. And he’s used it against you.

"Fuck you," you said quietly.

Regret flashed across his face almost immediately. "Wait. I didn't mean it.”

"Yes, you did."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, okay? I just—" He ran a hand through his hair, looking suddenly exhausted. "I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to fight with you without feeling like I'm losing you."

You wanted to stay angry. You wanted to hold onto the hurt and use it as armor. But the desperation, the fear, in his eyes made it impossible.

"I'm not going anywhere," you said, even though part of you wondered if you should.

He crossed the room and pulled you into his arms and held you so tight it almost hurt. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'll never say something like that again. I promise."

You believed him.

*:ꔫ:*  

Heeseung doesn't know when he became the kind of person who says things he doesn't mean just to win an argument.

He lied awake at night replaying that fight, hating himself for the way he saw your face crumple when he called you cold. He knows you better than anyone. He knew that you weren’t cold. You've been hurt before, and you've learned to protect yourself.

The guilt sat heavy in his chest, a constant weight that made it hard to breathe.

He texted you the next morning. 

I'm sorry. Can we talk?

You read the message but didn’t respond for three hours. When you finally do, it's a single word.

Okay.

He met you at the park near your apartment. You were sitting on a bench, arms wrapped around yourself even though it wasn’t that cold. When you saw him, you didn’t smile, you couldn’t.

"I'm sorry," he said again, sitting down beside you. "I shouldn't have said that. I was angry, and I wanted to hurt you, and that's not okay."

"No," you said quietly. "It's not."

"I don't think you're cold. I think you're the warmest person I've ever met. I think you're careful with your heart because you've had to be, and I think that's brave, not broken."

You looked at him then, and he can see the tears you were trying to hold back. "Then why did you say it?"

"Because I'm scared," he admitted. "I'm scared that one day you're going to realize you don't need me, and you're going to leave. And I don't know how to handle that fear, so I lash out. But that's my problem, not yours. And I'm going to work on it. I promise."

You were quiet for a long time. Then you reached for his hand, lacing your fingers through his.

"I'm scared too," you whispered. "I'm scared of how much I need you. I'm scared of what happens if this doesn't work."

"It'll work," he said, squeezing your hand. "We'll make it work."

And he believed it. He had to. Because the alternative, having to live life without you, was unthinkable and it was one of his worst nightmares.

*:ꔫ:*  

The first breakup happened six months later.

It wasn’t dramatic. There was no screaming, no throwing things, no grand declarations. It was quiet and sad and inevitable.

You were sitting in his car outside your apartment, and you had been talking in circles for over an hour. The same arguments, the same hurt, the same exhaustion.

"I can't do this anymore," you finally said in defeat.

He stared straight ahead, hands gripping the steering wheel. "Don't say that."

"Heeseung…” You trailed off.

"Please. Don't."

"We're not good for each other. You know that."

"That's not true."

"It is." Your voice cracked. "We love each other, but we keep hurting each other. And I don't know how to fix it."

"We'll figure it out. We always do."

"No," you said, shaking your head. "We don't. We just...keep going. And it's killing us."

He turned to look at you then, and the devastation in his eyes nearly broke your resolve. "So that's it? You're just giving up?"

"I'm not giving up. I'm trying to save us both." Tears threatened to leave your eyes.

"By leaving?"

"Yes."

The silence that followed was unbearable. Finally, he nodded. "Okay. If that's what you want."

"It's not what I want," you whispered. "But it's what we need."

You got out of the car and walked into your apartment without looking back. You made it to your bedroom before you collapsed, sobbing so hard you can't breathe.

Your phone buzzed an hour later. A text from Heeseung.

 I love you. I'll always love you.

You didn’t respond.

*:ꔫ:*  

The first week without you was the worst week of Heeseung's life.

He wouldn’t eat. He wouldn’t sleep. He went through the motions at work, but wasn't really there. His friends tried to reach out, but he ignored their calls. His mother asked if he's okay, and he lied and said that he was okay.

He was far from okay. He was drowning.

Every song reminded him of you. Every place he went, he saw your ghost. The coffee shop where he met you. The park where he had his first kiss with you. The restaurant where he celebrated your birthday with you.

He thought about texting you a hundred times a day. He typed out messages and deleted them. 

I miss you.  I'm sorry.  Please come back.

But he never sent them. Because you asked him not to. Three weeks passed. Then four. Then five.

He started to think maybe this is it. Maybe this is how it was supposed to end. Maybe he had to spend the rest of his life missing someone who was never really his to keep.

Then, on a Friday night, his phone rang. Your name lit up the screen, and his heart stopped.

"Hello?"

"Hi." Your voice was small, tentative. "Can we talk?"

"Yes. Yes, of course. When?"

"Now?"

He was out the door before you had even hung up.

*:ꔫ:*  

You told yourself that you were just going to talk. You told yourself you weren’t getting back together, that you just needed closure, that seeing him one more time would help you move on. But the moment you saw him, all of those lies crumbled.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi."

You invited him inside, and suddenly were both sitting on your couch, the same couch where you had a dozen fights and a hundred reconciliations. The air between you was thick with everything unsaid.

"I missed you," he said finally.

"I missed you too."

"I've been thinking a lot. About us. About what went wrong."

"Me too."

"And I think” He paused, searching for the right words. "I think we can do better. I think we can be better. If we try."

"What if we can't?" you asked. "What if we just keep making the same mistakes?"

"Then we'll figure it out. Together."

"Heeseung, are you sure?"

"I love you," he says, and his voice breaks on the words. "I love you so much it scares me. And I know I'm not perfect. I know I've hurt you. But I also know that I've never felt this way about anyone, and I don't think I ever will again. So please. Please give us another chance."

You should’ve said no. But you didn’t. Because despite everything, you still love him too.

"Okay," you whispered.

He pulled you into his arms, and you let yourself believe that this time will be different.

*:ꔫ:*  

The first time it gets physical, you were both horrified.

You had moved into Heeseung’s apartment the week before. It was late, past midnight, and you’d been arguing about one of his plants dying.

You were trying to leave for a few minutes. You needed space, needed air, needed to get away from the suffocating weight of his anger and your own. But he wouldn’t let you.

"We're not done talking," he said, stepping in front of the door.

"Yes, we are. Move." your voice was stern.

"Not until you listen to me."

"Heeseung, I'm serious. Move."

"No."

You tried to push past him, and that's when it happened.

He grabbed your wrist. Not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to stop you. You pulled back instinctively, and he tightened his grip.

"Let go of me."

"Just listen to me."

"Let go!"

You wrenched your arm free, stumbling backward. He reached for you again, and you shoved him hard. He shoved back, and suddenly you were both standing there, breathing hard, staring at each other in shock.

"Oh my God," you whispered.

He looked down at his hands like they belonged to someone else. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it."

"You grabbed me."

"I know. I know, and I'm sorry. I just didn't want you to leave. I wasn't thinking."

"You can't do that. You can't" Your voice broke. "You can't put your hands on me like that."

"I know. You're right. I'm sorry." he was crying now, tears streamed down his face. "I'm so sorry. I'll never do it again. I promise."

You wanted to leave. You wanted to walk out the door and never come back.

But you didn’t. Because he was crying, and you had never seen him cry before, and some twisted part of you believed that his tears meant he's sorry. That his tears meant it won't happen again.

So, you stayed. And that's the moment you realized you're in too deep.

*:ꔫ:*  

You found out on a Wednesday morning.

Two pink lines. You stared at the test for twenty minutes, sitting on the cold bathroom floor, trying to process what it meant. You're pregnant with Heeseung's child. The same Heeseung who grabbed you four months ago. Had he done it again? No, but the thought still lingered. The worst part was, during those four months, you two were in such a better space. Even then you knew that you couldn’t bring a child into this.

You knew that immediately, with a clarity that cut through all the confusion and codependency. A child deserves stability. You and Heeseung were not those people.

You made the appointment that afternoon. You didn’t tell him. You couldn’t tell him. Because if you told him, he’d beg you to keep it. He’d promise to change. He'd cry and say all the right things, and you'd believe him because you always believe him, and then you'd be trapped forever.

The clinic was sterile and quiet. The nurse held your hand. You cried through the entire procedure, not because you regretted the decision, but because you were mourning the future you knew that you’d never have with Heeseung. 

The version of you and Heeseung that could have been good parents didn’t exist.

A month later, during a fight about something meaningless, it slips out. 

You were exhausted, and he was accusing you of not caring about the relationship, and suddenly you were screaming, "I got an abortion, Heeseung. I was pregnant, and I got rid of it because I couldn't bring a child into this fucking nightmare."

His face turned white. "What?"

"I was pregnant. A month ago. And I—"

"You were pregnant." His voice was flat, emotionless. "With my child."

"Yes."

"And you didn't tell me."

"No."

"You didn't tell me." He was shaking, his hands were clenched into fists. "You made that decision without me. You killed our child."

"Don't." Your voice was sharp. "Don't you dare make this about you. I made the decision that was right for us. We can't even take care of ourselves, Heeseung. How the hell were we supposed to take care of a baby?"

"That wasn't your choice to make alone!"

"Yes, it was! It's my body!"

"It was my child!"

He grabbed the lamp from the side table and hurled it at the wall that was next to him. It shattered against the wall, and you flinched, your heart pounded in your chest. He had started throwing and breaking anything he could, but none of it came in your direction.

You watched him until his hands were bloody and he was shaking and sobbing while sitting on the floor. You wrapped your arms around him. "Baby, it’s okay. We’re gonna be okay."

"How could you?" He cried in ugly broken sobs. "How could you do that without telling me? Am I that bad of a man that you couldn’t see yourself having a child with me?"

You wanted to have a baby with him. You wanted the perfect little family with him, but you knew that it just couldn’t happen if things didn’t change between you two. "You’re not a bad man." Silent tears fell from your eyes. 

You hated seeing Heeseung like that. You knew that he blamed himself for everything and you started just…letting him. You hated doing it but it felt easier than to be honest and take some of the blame.

“You make me feel like I am sometimes.”

Those words stung. You were speechless. But you knew he was right.

“I’m sorry.” Was all that you could say at the time.

"Get off of me."

You pulled away from him and stood up.

He looked up at you and something flashed across his face. He stood up and walked over to you, grabbing your arm.

"You killed our baby." His voice breaks on the word. "You killed our baby, and you didn't even tell me."

"Heeseung, I already told you—”

He scoffed and let you go roughly and you stumbled back “You think your sorry excuse is enough. Fuck you.”

Tears fell from your eyes even faster. You just stood there and stared at each other for a while until he began picking up the broken glass.

How much longer could you even go through this with each other?

*:ꔫ:*  

Heeseung couldn’t stop thinking about it.

You were pregnant with his baby, and you got an abortion without telling him.

Heeseung understood why you did it.  But understanding didn’t make it hurt less.

You took away his choice. You made a decision that affected both of you, and you didn't give him the chance to have a say. You erased him from the equation entirely. And that's what killed him.

Heeseung spent the next week in a haze of anger and grief. He didn’t call you. He didn’t text you. He just sat in his apartment, replaying the fight over and over, trying to make sense of how everything fell apart so completely.

He thought about the baby constantly. Wondering if it would have been a boy or a girl. Wondered if maybe a baby would have been the thing to finally fix you both.

The grief was overwhelming. The loss of something that never was but could have been.

When you finally reached out, it was a simple text

Can we talk?

Heeseung stared at the message for a long time before responding. 

Okay.

You met at a park.

"I'm sorry," Heeseung said before you could speak. "I'm sorry for losing control and arguing with you. I’m sorry you had to see me like that."

"I'm sorry too," you said. "I should have told you. About the pregnancy. You deserved to know."

"Why didn't you?"

You looked away. "Because I knew you'd try to convince me to keep it. I couldn't bring a child into this, Heeseung. We're barely surviving as it is."

"I know."

"Do you?" You turned to face him, and there were tears in your eyes.

"I see it," Heeseung said quietly. "I see it every time I look at you."

"I don't know how to let you go. I love you too fucking much. I would rather do a million therapy sessions than walk away from you."

"Me too."

The same night, you're back together.

*:ꔫ:*  

This time it started with a text message.

You saw it when his phone lit up on the coffee table. Just a name, Yuna, and a preview.

Had so much fun tonight! Let's do it again soon.

Your stomach dropped.

"Who's Yuna?" you asked, your voice carefully neutral.

Heeseung looked up from his laptop. "What?"

"Yuna. She just texted you."

"Oh." He didn’t even look concerned. "She's from work. We grabbed drinks with some people after the meeting."

"You didn't tell me you were getting drinks."

"I didn't think I had to report every single thing I do." He chuckled.

"That's not what I'm saying."

"Then what are you saying?"

"Are you sleeping with her?"

Heeseung stared at you before bursting into laughter. "What?"

"Are you sleeping with her?" Your voice rose, hysteria crept in. "Is that why you've been coming home late? Is that why you've been so distant?"

"I haven't been distant. And no, I'm not sleeping with anyone besides you baby. Jesus Christ, where is this coming from?"

"Don't lie to me!"

"I'm not lying."

But you weren’t listening. You spiraled, drowning in jealousy and paranoia. And part of you had to be right no matter what, even if you were wrong. "I saw the text, Heeseung. 'Let's do it again soon.' What the fuck does that mean?"

"It means we had drinks with coworkers and she wants to do it again. That's it."

"You're lying." You were crying, ugly and desperate. "You're lying, and you think I'm stupid enough to believe you."

"I'm not lying."

You hit him. It wasn’t a slap. It was a closed fist, aimed at his chest, and it landed hard enough to make him stumble backward.

"You're a liar!" You had hit him again. And again. "You're a fucking liar!"

"Stop” He tried to grab your wrists, but you were wild, beyond reason. You had hit his arms, his shoulders, anywhere you could reach.

"How could you do this to me!? How could you—"

"I didn't do anything!" He finally caught both your wrists, holding them tight. "I didn't do anything! There is no one else! There has never been anyone else!"

You were both breathing hard, and suddenly you saw yourself reflected in his eyes. You were looking at a monster. And the monster was you.

You wrenched your hands free and stepped back, horrified. Your knuckles were red. His shirt was wrinkled where you grabbed it. There were scratches and marks all over his face and neck.

"I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I was just—” 

Heeseung pulled you into a tight hug. “Stop, please. Don’t explain it. Just go shower. We’ll sleep separately for a little while.”

So you did, you slept apart for two weeks.

Heeseung signed up for a therapy session that same night.

*:ꔫ:*  

The worst fight happened on a Saturday night.

"I can't do this anymore!" you shouted. "I can't keep doing this with you!"

"Then leave!" Heeseung shouted back. "If you're so miserable, just fucking leave!"

"I'm trying to!"

You grabbed your bag and headed for the door, but he was faster. He blocked your path, his body filling the doorway.

"Move."

"No."

"Heeseung, I'm not doing this. Move."

"We're not done talking."

"Yes, we are. Move."

"No."

You tried to push past him, but he grabbed your wrist, pulling you back. You struggled against his grip, and suddenly you were both grappling, pushing, shoving. He was clearly stronger than you, and he used that strength to grab you by your hair and pin you against the wall across the room.

"Let go of me!"

"Just listen to me."

"Let go!"

You knee’d him in the stomach, and he released you with a grunt. But before you could move, he was on you again, one pressed into your stomach, hard. The other hand had your arm pinned against the wall. He gripped it so hard you thought it would’ve broken.

"Heeseung get off."

He looked down at his hands, and his expression shifted. He let go immediately.

"Fuck. I’m sorry.” He ran his hands through his hair frustrated.

You grabbed your bag and ran out of the door and immediately got in your car. 

You drove and drove until you were far away.

Heeseung hated himself.

Heeseung hated himself for grabbing your hair, pinning you against the wall, and for even arguing with you. He knew he should’ve just let you leave.

But, he also knew that he was taking the steps to do better. He had been going to therapy. He had even checked himself into a mental facility for a couple days after that argument. Not just because he had hurt you, but because he had started hurting himself and he didn’t want you to know.

After he had been released he brought you your favorite flowers. Wrote you a letter telling you how sorry he was and how much he needed you.

You read the letter with tears in your eyes later that night.

"If it happens again," your voice firm, "I'm gone. For good."

"I understand."

Heeseung nodded, and he pulled you into his arms, holding you like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.

Because you were. You were the only reason he hadn’t taken his life at this point, but he couldn’t put the pressure of knowing that on you.

*:ꔫ:*  

One day, you ran into your college roommate at the grocery store. She looked uncomfortable when she saw you, like she’d been caught doing something wrong.

"Hey," you said , trying to sound casual. "Long time no see."

"Yeah. Hi." She shifted her weight from foot to foot, clearly eager to leave.

"How have you been?"

"Good. Busy. You know how it is."

There was an awkward pause.

"We should get coffee sometime," you offered.

"Yeah. Maybe. I'll text you."

Later that night, you scrolled through social media and saw photos from a dinner party. All of your friends were there, laughing and smiling, living their lives without you. You weren’t surprised.

They were tired of watching you destroy yourself. Tired of the late-night calls where you sobbed about Heeseung. Tired of giving advice you never took. Tired of the cycle. They had given up on you.

*:ꔫ:*  

Your family was next.

Your mother stopped asking about Heeseung. Your father, who was always quiet and reserved, finally spoke up during a family dinner.

"You need to leave him," he said bluntly.

The table went silent.

"Dad."

"I'm serious. This relationship is destroying you. We can all see it."

"You don't understand—"

"I understand perfectly. You're in love with someone who's not good for you, and you're too stubborn to admit it."

"I'm fine."

"You're not fine," your father said. "And if you don't end this now, you're going to regret it for the rest of your life."

You left the dinner early, your mother's pleas followed you out the door.

That night, Heeseung held you while you cried.

"They don't understand," he whispered. "They don't know what we have."

And you believed him.

*:ꔫ:*  

You fought again later that week. It caused Heeseung to start hurting himself again so he disappeared for a week without telling you that he was checking himself into the hospital.

When he came back you felt at peace again.

"I missed you," he said.

"I missed you too. Don’t disappear again." Tears fell down your face.

"I’m sorry." He took your hand, and you let him. 

"So what do we do?"

"We keep trying.”

He pulled you into his arms, and you rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too."

*:ꔫ:*  

The breaking point came on a Thursday months later.

"You're suffocating me," you screamed. "I can't breathe around you anymore."

"Then leave!" he shouted back. "If I'm so terrible, just fucking leave!"

"Maybe I will!"

"Go ahead! See if I care!"

You grabbed your bag and headed for the door. He followed you, still yelling.

"You always do this! You always threaten to leave, but you never actually do it because you need me just as much as I need you!"

"Fuck you, Heeseung!"

"No, fuck you! You act like you're the victim here, but you're just as toxic as I am!"

You spun around to face him. "At least I'm trying to get better! At least I'm not dragging you down with me!"

"Dragging you down?” Heeseung was genuinely hurt. “You don’t think I’m trying.”

“No. I don’t because we’re still arguing all the time.’’

“It takes two people to argue.” He looked at you with an expression that was almost disgust. “Fuck you.”

The words hung in the air, venomous and unforgivable.

"I hate you," you whispered.

His face crumpled. "You don't mean that."

"I do. I hate you. I hate what you've done to me. I hate what we've become."

He reached for you, and you stepped back. "Don't touch me."

"Please—"

"I'm done, Heeseung. I'm really done this time."

"You don't mean that. You're just angry."

"I mean it. I can't do this anymore. I can't keep pretending that this is love when all we do is destroy each other."

He was crying now, full-body sobs that shook his entire frame. "Please don't leave. Please. I’m changing. I promise I’m taking all the steps to do better.”

But you were already walking to the door.

He grabbed your arm and you wrenched it free. "Let me go."

"I can't."

"Let me go, or I'm calling the police."

The threat hung between you, and for a moment, you saw something flicker in his eyes. Maybe fear. Maybe realization.

He let go.

You walked out the door and didn't look back.

*:ꔫ:*  

Heeseung didn’t call for three days.

He spent it hating himself. He felt that if you want to leave, he’s going to let you. He’ll go no contact if that makes you smile again.

But on the third day, you went back to your shared apartment. You needed to see him, talk to him.

When Heeseung opened the door, he wore long sleeves and sweatpants. He looked horrible. Something inside you told you to pull his sleeves up.

So when you sat on the couch to talk, you did. You gasped and tears stung your eyes.

Heeseung couldn’t help but to cry as well.

“Heeseung—”

“Please, don’t say anything. I’m embarrassed as it is.”

“When did you start doing this?”

“A year ago.” He sniffed. “I didn’t want you to know.”

You didn’t know how to feel. You just held him.

You took care of Heeseung all night and made sure that he knew you loved him.

It felt like the right thing to do.

But just like any time before, you ended up arguing. It turned physical, which you started. Heeseung just wanted you to get off of him but it ended with you being bruised.

*:ꔫ:*  

For the three days after the altercation, neither of you speak to the other.

On the third day, your sister gives him a yellow envelope while he’s at work. 

You filed a restraining order against him. Heeseung stared at the document, unable to process what he was reading. A restraining order. You were taking him to court.

Heeseung wanted to be angry. But all he feels is empty.

Heeseung hired a lawyer. He prepared for the hearing. He told himself that he'll fight this, that he'll prove to you that he’s changed.

*:ꔫ:*  

The memory comes to you in the courtroom as the judge spoke, unbidden and unwelcome.

It's from two years ago, back when things were still good. Back when you believed that love could conquer anything.

You were lying in bed together, the morning sun filtering through the curtains. He was twirling one of your curls around his finger, and you were half-asleep, content in a way you've never been before.

"Hey," he said softly.

"Mm?"

"I love you."

You opened your eyes and found him watching you with an expression so tender it made your chest ache.

"I love you too."

"I mean it. I really love you. Like…I want to spend the rest of my life with you kind of love."

You smiled. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I want to marry you someday. I want to wake up next to you every morning. I want to have kids with you and grow old with you and—" He laughed, suddenly shy. "Sorry. Is that too much?"

"No," you whispered. "It's not too much."

"Do you want that too?"

"Yes. I want all of it."

He kissed you then, slow and sweet, and you think that this is what happiness feels like.

You were so sure back then.

So sure that you'd found the person you were meant to be with. So sure that nothing could ever come between you.

You were wrong.

*:ꔫ:*  

The judge's voice pulls you back to the present.

"Does the petitioner wish to proceed with the restraining order?"

Patricia looks at you expectantly. The entire courtroom is silent, waiting for your answer.

You glance across the aisle at Heeseung. He's staring at his hands, shoulders hunched, looking like he's bracing for a blow.

This is the moment you've been building toward. The moment where you finally choose yourself. Where you finally break the cycle.

"I..." You swallow hard, your throat tight. "I need a moment."

The judge nods. "Take your time."

Patricia leans over and whispers, "Are you okay?"

You nod, even though you're not.

You think about the past three years. The fights. The tears. The broken promises. The way you've lost yourself piece by piece, until you're not sure who you are anymore.

You think about your friends who stopped calling. Your family who begs you to leave. The life you could have had if you'd never met him.

You think about all the reasons you should say yes.

Then you think about the way he looks at you when he thinks you're not paying attention. The way he remembers your coffee order. The way he holds you when you're sad. The way he makes you feel seen.

You think about the good days. The days when you remember why you fell in love in the first place.

You think about how much you still love him, despite everything.

And you realize something devastating:

You can’t let him go. He’s the love of your life.

"Your Honor," you say. "I'd like to withdraw the petition."

The courtroom erupts in murmurs. Patricia grabs your arm. "Are you sure?"

You nod. "I'm sure."

The judge looks at you with something that might be pity. "Very well. The petition is withdrawn. Case dismissed."

The gavel falls, and it sounds like a death knell.

*:ꔫ:*  

Hours after leaving the courthouse, you're lying beside Heeseung in bed. The room is dark except for the faint glow of a streetlight bleeding through the curtains. His arm rests across your waist.

Neither of you is asleep. Neither of you has spoken in several minutes.

You stare at the ceiling. "I scared myself." 

Beside you, Heeseung goes still.

You swallow hard. "That day."

You don't have to explain which day. He knows.

"The way we fought. The things we said. The way we touched each other." Your voice breaks. "I didn't recognize us anymore."

For a long while, neither of you speaks.

Then Heeseung rolls onto his side. When you finally look at him, his eyes are already wet.

"I know." The confession sounds painful. Like he's been carrying it alone for months. "I hated myself after that."

You close your eyes. "So did I."

The room falls silent again.

"I don't want to be this person anymore." Heeseung's voice is barely above a whisper.

You turn your head. "What person?"

"The one that keeps hurting you." Something twists painfully in your chest. Because for the first time in years, he doesn't sound defensive. He doesn't sound angry. He sounds defeated. "I mean it this time." A tear slips down his cheek. "I'm tired."

You reach over and wipe it away with your thumb. "So am I."

His hand finds your other one beneath the blanket. "I don't know what tomorrow looks like."

"Neither do I."

"I don't know if we're going to make it."

The honesty stings. But you appreciate it way more than another promise. More than another speech. More than another apology.

"I know."

His fingers tighten around yours. "But I want to try."

You stare at him. At the man you've loved. The man who's broken your heart. The man whose heart you've broken too.

You think about the courtroom. The judge. The paperwork. The way everyone looked at you after your decision. Like you'd made a mistake. Maybe you did. Maybe everyone is right. Maybe you'll regret it. But as Heeseung presses his forehead against yours, neither of you pretending to have the answers, you realize something. For the first time in years, neither of you is promising forever. Neither of you is pretending love will magically fix everything.

You're simply acknowledging the truth. That healing is going to be ugly. That trust is going to take time. That some wounds don't disappear just because you want them to.

"I love you." Your words are quiet.

Nothing like the dramatic declarations that used to follow your worst fights.

You feel his breath hitch. "I love you too."

The confession settles between you. Outside, the city continues moving. Inside, neither of you knows what comes next.

But for tonight, there are no lawyers. No judges. No arguments. No winners. No losers.

The first time Wooyoung flew across the world to see you, he landed with two hours of sleep, a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes, and a bouquet he'd bought from a random store inside the airport because everything else had been closed.

You had laughed so hard you'd cried. The flowers were half dead and one of the stems had snapped in half. But, the effort of it still meant the world to you.

"Don't laugh," he'd complained, pulling his suitcase behind him. "I was under pressure."

"You bought me dying flowers." You said through your laugh.

"Babe, it was late. Nothing else was open." He whined.

You spent the rest of the day teasing him. He spent the rest of the day pretending to be offended. By the end of the week, the flowers were completely dead. And you kept them anyway. Years later, they were still tucked away in a box beneath your bed. It was a reminder that somehow, against all odds, Wooyoung had loved you enough to board a plane—over and over again. 

It became normal. You both looked forward to the airport reunions. Late night Facetime calls became second nature. A few months apart were survivable because there was always another trip coming up. Sometimes you guys would even meet in another country just to spend a couple days together.

===✈

The arrivals board flashed overhead as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. You impatiently waited for Wooyoung. You had a love-hate relationship with the waiting part. The anticipation always kills you on the inside. But, Wooyoung made it worth it.

The automatic doors slid open and your heart jumped in excitement. But it wasn’t him, it was just another tired traveler dragging a suitcase behind them.

You checked your phone over and over again for seven minutes waiting for a text message or phone call from him. You shifted nervously realizing that his plane landed 15 minutes ago.

After another 5 minutes of waiting, your phone vibrated in your hand and lit up with a text message.

where r u

You immediately smiled.

where do you think i am?

Three dots appeared.

u look for me

You laughed and shook your head

absolutely not wowww. fake girlfriend

Before you could type out your next message, that familiar voice that you loved so much called your name.

You turned and there he was. He wore a baseball cap and an oversized hoodie. His suitcase rolled behind him. A grin was plastered on his face as he walked towards you.

This is what made everything worthwhile, this moment. It didn’t matter how many times he’d travel to see you, this moment always feels like the first time, every time.

Wooyoung dropped the handle of his suitcase and wrapped his arms around you so tight that you thought you’d pop. "Hi." His voice was muffled against your shoulder.

You wrapped your arms around him and smiled immediately. "Hi."

"You got taller."

You snorted. "I'm literally the same height."

He pulled back just enough to look at you. "Doubt it."

You rolled your eyes. “Maybe you got shorter.”

Wooyoung laughed. “Not possible.”

The smile never left your face. God, you'd missed him so much. The drive back to your apartment felt easy. Wooyoung spent most of it telling you about everything that was going on that he had waited to tell you in person. Telling you how much the rest of his band members missed you and wanted to see you.

===✈

By the time you finally reached your apartment and unlocked the door, your chest felt lighter than it had in months. Wooyoung immediately kicked off his shoes and collapsed dramatically onto your couch.

A long sigh escaped him. "Home."

The word made your heart swell in your chest. It put a huge smile on your face. Your home had become his home, and you were grateful that he felt that way.

You headed toward the kitchen. "How long do I have you for this time?"

The question was a casual question. You had asked it a dozen times before, then would complain that however many days he gave you wasn’t enough. You turned to see Wooyoung staring at the floor.

“Wooyoung.” You called out.

He snapped out of his daze and looked at you. “Sorry.” He sighed. “I’m just thinking. But it’s only for a day this time.” He got up and walked over to you, pulling you in a tight hug. “I have a really busy schedule coming up but I needed to make time for you.”

You loved that about Wooyoung. No matter what was going on he made time for you. He made time to show you how much he loves and cares for you. 

You usually would’ve been mad and complained about only having a day but this time you somewhat accepted the fact that you didn’t have much time. Maybe because neither of you wanted to spend what little time remained fussing about wanting more time.

===✈

You ordered takeout from the little restaurant down the street that Wooyoung loved. When he first visited you, he insisted that you two try it. You were extremely hesitant because you were so used to eating at the same restaurants every time. But after a lot of talking and whining, you decided to give it a try, and you fell in love with the food. You ate from there every time Wooyoung came to see you. The owner had stopped being surprised two years ago. At this point, she simply smiled and asked if "your boyfriend from Korea" wanted extra dumplings and the answer was always yes.

"You know she likes me more than you."

You nearly choked on your drink. "She absolutely does not."

"She does."

Wooyoung pointed his chopsticks at you. "She gives me free food."

You snorted. "That's because you flirt with her."

"I am charming." He puffed his chest out.

"You're annoying."

He gasped dramatically and pressed his against his chest. A performance worthy of an award.

You laughed harder than you had laughed all day. The sound immediately softened his expression. He felt relieved as if he had been waiting to hear it. Hearing you happy was more than enough for him.

===✈

After dinner, the two of you ended up curled together on the couch with a movie playing in the background. Neither of you paid attention to it. At some point, your head found his shoulder and his arm wrapped around your waist.

You two fell into a comfortable silence as you finally decided to watch the movie. Outside, the city continued moving. Wooyoung's fingers traced lazy patterns against your arm.

You closed your eyes. "If I fall asleep, don't let me miss your flight tomorrow."

His hand stopped moving for a second. "You won't."

The answer sounded strange. But not enough for you to question it. Just enough for something in your chest to tighten. You ignored it, you didn’t wanna stress yourself out. A few minutes later, you felt his lips press gently against the top of your head.

“I love you Wooyoung.”

“I love you too.” He grinned.

You reached up to massage his scalp, something that you knew soothed him every single time. He leaned into your touch and closed his eyes.

"We'll be okay." The words slipped out before you could stop them.

His eyes opened. For a moment, something flickered across his face. Gone so quickly you almost missed it. Then he smiled and nodded. "Yeah." His voice was barely above a whisper. "We will."

When you fell asleep against his chest later that night, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, you had no idea he stayed awake for hours afterward. Holding you, watching you sleep, and trying to convince himself he was doing the right thing.

===✈

The drive to the airport the next day was quiet. Not because there was nothing to say, but because there was too much to say.

The radio played softly somewhere in the background, filling the spaces neither of you knew how to fill yourselves. Outside the window, the city passed by in familiar blurs of traffic lights and storefronts.

Inside the car, Wooyoung's hand never left yours. His fingers remained intertwined with yours across the center console, holding on so tightly it almost hurt. But you didn't complain. It meant he was still here.

You stole a glance at him when you thought he wasn't looking.

His eyes were fixed on the road ahead with his jaw clenched. Exhaustion painted across every feature. You'd chalked it up to stress and everything waiting for him back home.

"You okay?" You asked him softly.

Wooyoung immediately smiled. "I'm fine." You knew he was lying but you let it go because you only had a few more minutes. A few more minutes before another airport goodbye. A few more minutes before another countdown started. A few more minutes before you had to learn how to miss him all over again. Your chest began to ache thinking about it.

You squeezed his hand. "I hate airports."

A weak laugh escaped his lips. "Me too."

You were truly surprised at that. Wooyoung had spent years in airports, going from city to city; country to country. You always assumed he had gotten used to them.

The silence returned after that. It was heavier this time.

===✈

After a short ten minutes, the terminal appeared in the distance. Your heart immediately sank. You’d never only have one day to spend with Wooyoung. You knew this would be torture.

You pulled into the drop-off lane and shifted the car into park. For a second, neither of you moved. The engine continued running. Outside, people rushed around outside; suitcases rolled across the pavement; announcements echoed through the glass doors.

Wooyoung stared straight ahead. His grip on your hand tightened. Then tightened some more. You realized that something was wrong. You turned toward him. "Wooyoung."

His eyes immediately closed. He looked like someone who was bracing for impact.

You stared at him for a few seconds before speaking again. "Baby."

His head dropped. A sob escaped his lips. A painful, broken one. The sound echoed through your car.

Panic flooded your chest. You reached for his hands. "Hey."

His shoulders shook with every sob. In all the years you've known Wooyoung, you'd never seen him cry like this. Not after injuries, scandals,or exhausting schedules.

Tears threatened to leave your own eyes now. "Talk to me." Your voice was trembling now. "Please."

He shook his head and called your name softly. Suddenly, you knew why he was crying. The realization hit you like a train. This wasn’t just another goodbye, it was the final one.

"No." You shook your head. The word left your mouth instantly like a prayer.

Wooyoung's expression crumpled. "I'm sorry."

"No." You were already sobbing almost as hard as him.

His breathing hitched. "I'm so sorry."

“Stop Wooyoung. You’re not being serious.” Your voice cracked.

You knew that if he said it out loud, it would become real. He wouldn’t be able to take them back.

"I can't do this to you anymore."

For a moment, you genuinely couldn't process it. You couldn't accept it. You refused to accept it. You just stared at him. Waiting for some type of explanation, or something, anything. But, it never came.

"No." A laugh full of disbelief escaped you. “You’re playing. You’re joking. This is all a joke. You’re just gonna be gone for a couple months like usual.”

Wooyoung shook his head. “No, it’s not the same this time. Seonghwa and Hongjoong are going to the military after this tour is over. I’m gonna have so much more on my plate. I’m gonna be too busy for you.” He paused. “For us.”

You wiped your face. "We can make it work."

Wooyoung squeezed his eyes shut. Another sob tore through him. His head dropped. "You deserve more."

You squeezed his arm gently. "I don't want more." Your voice broke. "I want you." The answer came out so desperate. Maybe it actually was desperation but you didn’t care. Nothing else mattered in the moment except for stopping what Wooyoung was doing.

His shoulders shook harder. “You don’t get it. You deserve better. You deserve someone who’s gonna be here for you 24/7. Who won’t miss your birthday, holidays, and every special moment.” 

Hearing that hurt so much. You knew he was doing this for you but you didn’t care. Wooyoung is and always has been more than enough for you. “I’ll wait for you. I always do. I don’t care how long I have to.”

Hearing this made Wooyoung break even more. He knew you would wait. He knew you would keep choosing him over and over again, which is why he has to do this. “You shouldn’t have to wait.”

Your heart shattered because this wasn’t about him not loving you. It’s about him loving you so much that he would let you go to keep you happy. You could see the love all over his face, in all his actions. You saw it in the way he couldn't look at you for too long; in the way his hand was still desperately holding yours. He loved you so fucking much. And that made this worse.

"I don't care." Your voice cracked. Fresh tears spilled down your cheeks. "I don't care if I have to wait."

He immediately looked at the window. He couldn’t bear to hear that. He wanted you to want better but he knew you couldn’t see how much this relationship was killing you on the inside. 

"I do." The words came out broken and barely audible. "I care."

You desperately grabbed his face. You tried to make him look at you. “Then just let me decide. Let me choose if I don’t wanna wait anymore.”

The second those words left your mouth, Wooyoung started crying harder. Something inside him had finally broken.

The silence that followed felt endless. Then finally, Wooyoung leaned into your touch. For one last second. And whispered to you, "I don't know how to be your boyfriend anymore."

The confession destroyed you on the inside. Everything made sense to you. The schedules, the distance, the missed calls, the exhaustion, the guilt, and the fear. You missed all the signs, then again, maybe you didn’t, maybe you chose to ignore them because you loved him that much.

Wooyoung felt like he failed you as a boyfriend and he couldn’t stop the feeling. It consumed him, made his chest tighten, took the breath out of his lungs.

The tears wouldn't stop for either of you.

You reached for him. “Wooyoung, I know what I signed up for when I started dating you.” You weren’t fully lying. You knew that his schedule would be full, you knew that the distance would kill you. But you never thought that it would lead to this.

Wooyoung immediately folded into your arms. The two of you sat there together. Holding each other, crying, not saying anything. You knew there was nothing else to say. You couldn’t argue or plead because it wouldn’t change his answer.

Eventually, an announcement echoed outside. A final boarding call, not for his flight, but it pulled you back into the reality of what was about to happen.

Wooyoung pulled away. His face was red, eyes swollen, and his hands were shaking. You'd never seen him look so broken.  He stared at you for a long moment. As though he was trying to memorize you. 

Then he reached forward and cupped your face. He gave you the saddest smile you had ever seen. “I hope somebody loves you the way you deserve to be loved.”

That sentence ripped right through your chest. You didn’t want somebody, you wanted him. You wanted Wooyoung, you have from the moment you started talking to him.

Wooyoung opened the car door. “I love you so so much. Don’t ever forget that. You’re one of the best, and very few, things that have ever happened to me.” He placed a kiss on your forehead, then your cheek, and finally your lips. You kissed for a while before he pulled away.

He stepped out, grabbed his suitcase from the backseat, and closed the door. He didn’t go into the airport right away, instead he stared at you for a while. 

You watched through tear-blurred eyes as he stood there. He was still crying, almost as hard as you were.

Wooyoung lifted his hand and waved a sad goodbye. The same hand that held yours through airports and hotel rooms. The same hand that he would rest on your waist as you slept soundly next to him wherever you guys were when you were together. The same hand he’d rub your 

And then he turned and walked away. You watched him as he disappeared into the crowd. You watched long after he was gone in hopes that he’d run back to you with his mind changed. But he didn’t.

A strange panic washed over you because you knew that those items hadn’t simply disappeared. You knew that you didn’t misplace them or give them away. They were stolen from you. Your body ached in an odd way.

Felix stood near the shelf, arms folded tightly across his chest. His expression had grown darker with every passing minute. He was furious and somewhat in disbelief. He would’ve never thought that Minho would do something like this.

Jeongin and Hyunjin walked back into the living room, laughing about something, the sound jarring against the terror that had seized you. Hyunjin stopped when he saw your face. "What happened? What's wrong?"

You just stared at him, unable to form the words. How could you say it? That your ex-boyfriend, a man you once thought you'd spend your life with, had broken into your home. That he had stolen your things and he was watching you.

Felix took a breath. "Hyunjin, we need to talk."

Hyunjin sat on the couch next to you. "What's wrong? What's going on?" He looked between the two of you, his smile completely gone.

Jeongin stayed by the kitchen doorway, sensing the shift.

"Minho... he's been in our apartment." 

Hyunjin's calm demeanor broke, and he shot up from the couch. "What?"

"He has the clay pot we made." You explained as your hands trembled in your lap. "And my My Melody plushie. It's gone, Felix just saw it with him and your aunt said they gave it back before our trip."

Hyunjin stared at you, his face unreadable for a moment. He wasn't angry, not yet. He was processing. He was connecting the dots. "The smell in here when we got back," he said quietly.

The realization hit him like a physical blow. "He was in our home." He looked at the space around him, not as a sanctuary, but as a crime scene. "He was here, while we were gone."

Jeongin's face went pale. "Minho? No...he wouldn't do that."

"He did," Felix said firmly, looking at Jeongin. "He's not the person you think he is right now. He's not okay."

Hyunjin started pacing again, his movements agitated, caged. "I'm calling the police."

"No," you said, the word coming out sharper than you intended. "Don't."

Hyunjin stopped and stared at you. "No? Y/N, he broke into our home. This is illegal. This is dangerous."

"I know but... what are they going to do?" You were trying to be rational, but your voice was betraying you, cracking under the strain. "He didn't break a window. He didn't steal the TV. He's going to say we gave him the stuff. He's going to say he was let in. We have no proof."

"We have Felix," Hyunjin countered.

Felix looked uncomfortable. "I saw the pot. I didn't see him take it. He just had it. My word against his? You know how that’s gonna go."

You knew he was right. You were trapped. Calling the police felt like escalating a situation that was already terrifying.

*:ꔫ:*  

Weeks went by. You guys had called the police. Minho had an alibi for where he was. There was no camera footage of him even being near your apartment. As for the things that he stole, he said that Hyunjin had given it to him. To make matters worse, this made major headlines.

Former Stray Kids member Hwang Hyunjin accuses ex bandmate Lee Minho of breaking and entering

This is exactly what Minho wanted, Hyunjin to have bad publicity. This was all part of his plan.

You sat in your apartment with Hyunjin watching the news in disbelief. "I can't believe they're painting you to be the bad person." You said as you held his hand.

"It's what he wanted." Hyunjin said as he shook his head.

*:ꔫ:*  

Minho played the victim perfectly. In the media, he was the grieving ex, the one whose heart was broken, the one who was trying to find peace but was being harassed by the new boyfriend and a bitter ex-lover. He gave a tearful interview to a popular entertainment show, claiming he was "deeply concerned" for you.

"I just want what's best for her," Minho said, looking directly into the camera with sorrowful, practiced eyes. "But this constant conflict, these accusations...it's not healthy for her. I hope Hyunjin can find it in his heart to let her go, to let her heal from the pain of our breakup without dragging her into more drama. The things he claimed I took from them, he gave them to me. Said he wanted me to have something to remember her by. I never thought it would be twisted like this."

You felt sick watching the interview. He was twisting everything, making Hyunjin look possessive and unstable, and himself look like a saint. The public was eating it up. The narrative had shifted.

Your stomach turned as he spoke. You shook your head. You couldn't believe that Minho would actually do this and pretend like he's innocent. But, at the same time, you could. He'd always play the victim when you two were together.

The doorbell rang and Hyunjin got up to get it. When he opened it, a man stood there with a yellow envelope in his hand. "Are you Hwang Hyunjin?"

"Yes, why?"

The man gave him the envelope. "You've been served." He then walked away.

You looked at Hyunjin, confusion all over your face. He opened the envelope and started to read it.

It was a lawsuit. "He's fucking suing me?!"

You jumped up from the couch. "What?" You took the papers from his hands and started to read them yourself. You couldn't believe it. Minho was suing Hyunjin for defamation of character, for emotional distress, and for false accusations. He was asking for a public apology and damages. He was trying to ruin Hyunjin financially. xThe fight had moved from the court of public opinion to an actual courtroom.

"This is insane," you whispered, the words barely audible. "He can't do this."

"He can," Hyunjin said, his voice hollow. He sat down on the couch, the lawsuit papers slipping from his fingers onto the floor. He put his head in his hands. "And he's going to win. He has the better lawyers, the better story. We have nothing."

You saw it then, not anger, but fear. Pure, unadulterated fear. He was afraid for himself, for you, for the future. The fight was draining out of him, replaced by a cold, creeping dread. You knelt in front of him, taking his face in your hands. "No. Don't you dare say that. We have the truth. We have support from the rest of the guys. We have each other."

Hyunjin looked up, and the sight of his despair was a physical blow.

You held him as he silently cried. "Baby. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have even mentioned what he did."

"Don't blame yourself for this asshole's behavior."

You both held each other on the floor for a good hour before Hyunjin finally broke the silence. "We're not going to win. But we are not going down without a fight. I'm calling Bang Chan."

*:ꔫ:* 

Bang Chan arrived an hour later, bringing with him a quiet, steadying energy that immediately began to push back against the suffocating chaos. He listened, without interruption, as you and Hyunjin told everything.

When you finished, he didn't offer platitudes. He just nodded slowly. "Okay."

"Okay? That's it?" Hyunjin sounded defeated.

"Okay means we stop playing defense," Chan said, pulling out his phone. "We've been reacting to him this whole time. It's time to start acting." He typed a quick message and looked up. "I have a lawyer. One of the best. She doesn't take celebrity cases usually, but she owes me a favor. She'll be fair, and she'll be ruthless if she needs to be."

He then looked directly at you. "And Y/N, this is not your fault. You need to hear that. This is Minho's choice. Every step of the way."

*:ꔫ:* 

Later that night, Hyunjin went out to grab a few beers with Han and Changbin. When he came home, you ran a hot bath for him to help him relax. You washed his back, letting the warm water and quiet intimacy wash away some of the day's grime and anxiety.

"Thank you," he murmured, leaning back against you. "For everything. For not giving up."

"Never," you whispered, pressing a kiss to his damp shoulder.

He leaned back into your touch. You rubbed down his arms, his chest, then his waist.

Hyunjin groaned softly "What are you–?”

"Shh. Let me take care of you." You wrapped your hand around his length, he was already hard from you massaging him. You loved that about Hyunjin, you didn't have to do much to get him excited.

He let out a moan as you started to stroke him. "F-fuck." His breathing became ragged.

You picked up your pace, twisting your wrist slightly, the way you knew he liked it. You loved the way he responded to you, the way he completely surrendered to your touch. This was yours.This connection, this intimacy, was something Minho could never touch, could never steal.

Water sloshed over the side of the tub as Hyunjin's hips began to move in rhythm with your hand. His head was thrown back, his eyes closed, lost in sensation.

"I love you," he breathed out, the words a prayer. "So much."

"I love you too."

His hand came up to grip your forearm, not to stop you, but as an anchor. "I'm...close baby. Please, I’m gonna--." He cut himself off with a moan.

"Yeah? You gonna cum on my hand baby?" You slowed down and squeezed the tip lightly

All he could do was whimper.

“Words baby.” You reminded him.

“Yes, I’m gonna cum in your hand. Please…please don’t stop.” He was desperate for you to keep going. He’d let you stroke him for hours if you could.

“Let go for me baby.”

That was all it took. With a guttural moan, he shuddered against you, spilling into your hand. You held him through it, stroking gently as he came down from the high. For a long moment, the only sound was the lapping of the water against the tub and their combined breathing. He turned in the tub, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you flush against him. You rinsed each other off and barely dried off before Hyunjin carried you to the bedroom.

"You do so much for me baby." Hyunjin kissed up your thighs. "Let me return the favor." He looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire and something deeper, something that looked like reverence.

Your head fell back as he tasted you, his tongue moving with a torturous slowness. He was savoring you, memorizing you, claiming every inch of you with his mouth. Your fingers tangled in his hair, holding him to you as waves of pleasure built, higher and higher, until you broke, crying out his name into the quiet room.

He moved over you, kissing you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his lips. He entered you slowly, a perfect, familiar stretch that made you feel whole again. He thrusted in you like his life depended on it.

You gripped onto his back and shoulders enjoying every inch of him. You dug your nails into him, marking him as yours. Every thrust was a silent declaration. I'm here. I'm not leaving. We're stronger than this.

You held him close "Don't stop baby. Please." You begged. It had been a while since you two had a passionate night like this.

"Turn over love. Face the mirror." Hyunjin whispered in your ear. He got out of bed, pulling you up and turning you around. He bent you over the bed so that you were facing the full length mirror that was leaning against the wall.

He entered you again, this time from behind. He made you watch. Watch the way he thrusted into you, watch the way your face twisted in pleasure. Watch the way he grabbed your hips and pulled you back against him. He thrusted into you until you were both cumming.

Afterward, you both collapsed onto the bed. Hyunjin pulled the covers over the two of you, and you curled into his side, your head on his chest.

"We're going to be okay, right?" You asked, your voice small in the dark.

"You're lying." Hyunjin walked over to you and handed you a cup.

“You caught me. I know I’m supposed to completely stop reading the comments but sometimes it’s hard.”

Hyunjin sat next to you and you placed your legs in his lap. He rubbed your ankles comfortingly. “Look baby, I know it’s hard but maybe we should do something to take both our minds off all this mess.” He leaned closer. “I say, a vacation perhaps?”

This was the normalcy that you were glad to have amidst the chaos of the outside world. You smiled wide “Really? Where?” You both knew that a vacation wouldn’t change much, if anything at all. All it would do was give you a distraction, but at this point, you both desperately needed it.

“Somewhere no one knows our faces. Somewhere with no cameras.” He paused, thinking. “Los Angeles would be perfect. You could be back home for a while.”

You loved the idea. You really did, but the thought of being completely disconnected, even from the negative things, felt wrong for some reason. Maybe you were addicted to the chaos, or maybe you just wanted to know what was being said. That was an ugly thought, and you tried to push it away.

A week with just Hyunjin and the ocean sounded like a dream.

“I love that.” You leaned in and kissed him. “I really, really love that.”

“I’m glad you do. So it’s settled? We can leave next weekend.” He smiled, and for the first time in months, you felt genuine excitement about something. Something just for you two.

“Settled.” You said, and for a moment, it felt like the world outside your apartment didn't exist. It was just the two of you on your couch, planning a trip that was just yours.

Then your phone buzzed. You glanced down instinctively. A notification from an unknown number. 

Your face dropped as you read the message. 'Hi pretty girl'

Hyunjin immediately noticed and took your phone from your hand. He looked up at you after reading it. "Who the fuck is this?"

You felt nervous. You hadn't really spoken to him about Minho's behavior after that one time. "It's um...it's Minho."

Hyunjin was furious. He told Minho to leave you alone after noticing him at one of the events you both went to. In Hyunjin's mind, Minho has no right to even look in your direction after how he treated you during your relationship.

Hyunjin immediately got up. He started pacing the living room, running a hand through his hair. "I am so sick of this. I'm sick of him thinking he can just pop back into your life whenever he wants. I'm sick of him scaring you."

"He's not scaring me." The words were out before you could think of them. A defense mechanism. Even now, you were defending him.

Hyunjin stopped pacing and looked at you. He looked hurt. "Yes, he is. You don't have to pretend to be brave with me. I know he is."

You looked down at your hands, feeling the familiar weight of shame. The feeling that you were overreacting. The fear that you were making things bigger than they were. "He's just...lonely. He's not thinking straight."

"He got a new number to text you from. That's not 'not thinking straight.' That's thought out and deliberate." Hyunjin knelt in front of you, taking your hands in his. "We're blocking this one too. And then I'm calling him. Not to yell. To set a final boundary. He needs to hear it from me."

The thought made your stomach clench. A confrontation meant more drama. 

Hyunjin called the number and of course Minho picked up on the third ring. "Hey princess. I knew you wanted to still talk to me." His voice was off, something about it was menacing and it sent chills up your spine and made the hair on your arms stand up.

Hyunjin’s jaw tightened. He kept his voice level, but there was an edge to it you'd only heard a few times. "This is Hyunjin, Minho. You need to stop."

There was a pause on the other end. Then a small, humorless laugh. "Stop what? Talking to my girlfriend?"

"She's not your girlfriend." Hyunjin’s grip on your hand tightened. "She was. She isn't anymore. You need to respect that."

"You think you know her?" Minho's voice dropped, becoming softer, more intimate, and somehow more chilling. "You think a few months changes six years? I know everything about her. I know what she likes, what she fears, the little noises she makes when she's about to fall asleep. Do you know that, Hyunjin?"

Your cheeks burned. Every word was a violation, a private detail thrown out like a weapon.

"That's enough." Hyunjin's voice was dangerously low now. "This is your only warning. Stay away from her. Stay away from us. If you contact her again, in any way, we're going to the police. This is harassment."

The line went dead. Hyunjin tossed your phone onto the couch cushion beside you and pulled you into a hug, burying his face in your hair. "I promise this isn't gonna go any further than what it has."

And it didn't. Minho stopped contacting you. You didn't see him anytime you went out, so you thought everything was over.

That was until you and Hyunjin decided to go on vacation to your hometown, LA. You rented a beautiful beach house and soaked up all the sun.

*:ꔫ:* 

Meanwhile, Minho knew that you were out of town, so he decided to declare his love a bit stronger, yet strategically. He was going to break into you and Hyunjin's shared apartment. He knew the code from discreetly watching you in the cameras that he'd placed in the hallway when neither of you were home.

He remembers that day like it was yesterday. You moving out of his apartment to go live with Hyunjin. It made Minho roll his eyes seeing the building you and Hyunjin were living in versus the high-rise you lived in when you were still with him. He thought it was absolutely disgusting and somewhat slap in the face.

Nevertheless, Minho found a way into the apartment building without being seen. He discreetly made his way to the elevator. Once he was in your apartment, he started rummaging through everything. Your underwear drawer, the closet, the bathroom cabinets, and all your personal items.

Minho felt his phone vibrate. A text from Jeongin, asking if he wanted to get food. Minho declined, of course, lying to him that he was busy and couldn't make it. He loved Jeongin, but Jeongin was on your side of things now, or at least in your corner.

He found your diary in the nightstand, reading every single entry from after the breakup. He felt so satisfied and sick reading it at the same time. He wanted to keep the diary, but he thought that you would notice it was gone.

Minho found the photo album that you had hidden away. It was filled with photos of you and Minho. He couldn't help but look through all the photos, a smile creeping on his face. He thought he could get you back by using them.

He placed the photo album back where it was and made sure to leave no trace he was ever there. 

As he walked through the apartment, he noticed something. The clay pot you two had made when you were together. He felt himself getting angry. He walked over to it and picked it up "This is mine. Hyunjin doesn't deserve this." He also noticed the plushies that he'd bought you just thrown in the corner. He walked over to them. He knew he couldn't take all of them. "Which one of you are coming home with papa tonight?" His eyes landed on the My Melody plushie. He remembered how happy you were when he won that for you.

Minho pocketed the clay pot and the plushie, then left the apartment, locking the door behind him.

*:ꔫ:* 

Back in LA, you and Hyunjin were living in a blissful bubble. The sun was warm, the ocean was a constant, soothing roar, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, your world wasn't filtered through the judgment of strangers. You spent your days on the beach, your evenings trying every overpriced restaurant you could find, and your nights tangled together in cool, crisp sheets, the salt air drifting in through the open balcony doors.

You hadn't checked social media in three days. Your phone was almost permanently on airplane mode, a digital detox you hadn't realized you desperately needed. Hyunjin was right. This was what you needed. Just the two of you, rediscovering each other without the static of the outside world.

On the fourth day, you decided to be a little more domestic. The beach house had a surprisingly well-stocked kitchen, and Hyunjin had been raving about a specific brand of Korean ramen he hadn't been able to find since you landed in LA lately. You decided to make a trip to the local H-Mart, a familiar slice of home for Hyunjin in this foreign city.

"I'll come with," Hyunjin offered, already reaching for his shoes.

You didn't find the ramen in the H-mart but you did wander to Koreatown and found a ramen restaurant. You guys sat at a table across from each other and ordered ramen. You felt normal again. You felt like everything would be okay and that everything is only going to go up from here.

For the first time since the disbandment, you were finally able to enjoy being Hyunjin's girlfriend.

*:ꔫ:* 

Back in Seoul, Minho sat in his apartment. The clay pot sat on a shelf and the plushie sat on the couch next to him. He was in front of the TV as it played some variety show with a new K-pop group on it. He wasn't watching it, though. Instead, he was staring at Hyunjin's new Instagram post of you sitting across from him, being happy and eating ramen. His jaw tightened, he was beyond furious and needed to do whatever he could to make you his again.

He got up and walked over to the plushie. He grabbed it. He stared at it for a few seconds, "I'm going to make you love me again, even if I have to kill someone for you." His eyes were dark and filled with a possessiveness that had been simmering beneath the surface for months.

*:ꔫ:* 

Two weeks had gone by and in LA, you and Hyunjin enjoyed every minute you spent with each other. You had even got to watch Hyunjin walk a runway for Versace. You were so proud of him and you were beyond impressed at how well he was doing for himself. He had finally found his place in this world without Stray Kids.

However, all good things must come to an end. You and Hyunjin packed your bags to head back to your shared apartment in Seoul. You were a little nervous, hopeful that Minho had finally moved on and left you alone for good.

When you unlocked your apartment door and walked in, your stomach dropped. The familiar scent of your home was off, replaced by a faint, cloying sweetness that wasn't yours or Hyunjin's cologne. It was the smell of lilies. Minho's favorite flower.

Hyunjin noticed your stillness. "What is it?"

You couldn't answer. Your eyes scanned the living room. Everything looked almost normal, but it was the 'almost' that terrified you. A book on the coffee table was slightly askew. A throw pillow was fluffed differently than you usually left it. These were small things, things Hyunjin would never notice, but they screamed at you. This space had been touched. Violated.

You walked towards the bedroom, your feet feeling heavy. Hyunjin followed, his concern growing with each step you took.

You shook your head "I'm just being crazy. My OCD is acting up again." 

"You sure?" Hyunjin squeezed your hip reassuringly.

You nodded as you set your suitcase down "Yeah, don't worry." 

So, he didn't worry, and neither did you. At least you tried not to. You didn't want to worry Hyunjin with your absurd and crazy thoughts that someone had been in your apartment.

You both had unpacked and showered. You went to the living room to get a plushie or two. It was routine for you to have one in the bed with you, not for any specific reason, it's just something you've done since you were little.

You looked at them and noticed that your My Melody one wasn't there. You raised your eyebrow. "Hyunjin." You called to the bedroom. "Where's the My Melody plushie?"

"Remember you had let my cousin have it when she came over?" Hyunjin reminded you.

He wasn't lying, you did let his little cousin have it last month. But you, and Hyunjin, forgot that she had given it back not too long before your trip because her mom bought her one.

You grabbed another one and laid in the bed with Hyunjin. "I'm glad we went on vacation. It took my mind off everything that's going on."

"I'm glad you enjoyed our social media free trip."

You tangled your hand with Hyunjin's and he kissed yours.

"I love you."

"I love you too." You laid your head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat. You drifted off to sleep just like that.

*:ꔫ:* 

The next day, you realized how much you missed the My Melody plushie so you sent a text to Hyunijn's aunt and asked if it was possible to have it back.

Felix and Jeongin came over because they wanted to know how the trip was. You told them how much fun you had and how needed it was for you. 

Jeongin and Hyunjin went into the kitchen and Felix scooted closer to you on the couch and lowered his voice. "I have to tell you something, but please don't freak out because it could just be a coincidence."

"Go on." You said cautiously

"So, the other day, I hung out with Minho." He started.

You immediately tensed up. "Why?" You didn't mean for it to come out as aggressive as it did.

Felix held his hands up defensively "He was being weird. I wanted to know what was going on. We went to that cafe we all used to love and I don't know, Y/N. He's not okay." Felix ran a hand through his hair "He kept asking about you. At one point, he pulled out this little clay pot thing and said you made it together. He said he had to 'get it back'."

The world tilted. Your breath caught in your throat. The clay pot. You'd forgotten about it. It sat on the shelf in the living room, a relic from a weekend pottery class you'd taken years ago, back when you were still trying to fix things. You brought it with you when you moved in with Hyunjin, without even thinking. You just knew that you loved the way it looked.

"Felix, that's... that's in our apartment." Your voice was a whisper. "On the bookshelf."

Felix's friendly demeanor vanished, replaced by a stark seriousness. He shook his head. "No, he has it."

"Felix, I'm telling you it's in here." You went to point to it, but it was gone. Your heart dropped.

Your phone buzzed. You picked it up thinking it was a text from Minho, but it was Hyunjin's aunt responding to your question about the plushie. 'We gave it back before your trip hun, remember?'

You didn't even realize Felix had stood up. "What's wrong?"

"He has it, Felix. He has the plushie too." Your words were shaky. The coincidence Felix had warned you about was no longer that. It was a pattern. A violation.

Felix looked genuinely scared now. "Y/N... he broke into your apartment."

You loved him once. You'd probably always care about him. But love wasn't enough anymore. So you left. And everything fell apart. The headlines came first.

Y/N and Stray Kids Member Lee Minho Confirm Breakup After Six-Year Relationship

The announcement spread everywhere. Entertainment sites, news outlets, fan forums, social media, and anywhere you could think.

Everyone wanted answers. Everyone wanted details. But neither of you gave them any, nor did you want to. The official statements were brief. Respectful and private.

Then came the rumors. People created explanations where there weren't any. Every interview was analyzed down to the word. Every old video was dissected down to the frame. Every interaction became evidence for whatever narrative people chose to believe.

For months, your name trended alongside his and neither of you could escape it. Then eventually, things became quieter. Certainly not normal but at least they were quieter and people left you alone.

Life moved forward. You focused on yourself. You stayed away from the spotlight whenever possible. You rebuilt friendships. Relearned who you were outside of a six-year relationship.

And somehow, through all of it, Hyunjin was the one who stuck beside you. He knew everything that went on between you and Minho, for the most part. At first, he was just a friend. He was someone who checked on you after difficult days, sat beside you when the comments got overwhelming, and reminded you that there was still life after having your heartbroken.

Nothing happened immediately. Despite what people would later claim, there was no secret relationship, no hidden feelings, and definitely no betrayal. For nearly a year, he was simply someone you trusted.

But somewhere during that year, friendship slowly became something else. The realization of feelings between you two happened gradually. First it was a late-night phone call that lasted until sunrise. Then it became a smile that lingered a little longer than it used to. Suddenly there was a feeling neither of you could ignore anymore.

When you finally started dating, almost a full year had passed since your breakup with Minho. The people closest to you were happy. Felix damn near cried. Changbin celebrated like he'd won an award. Bang Chan acted surprised despite everyone knowing he wasn't. Seungmin claimed he had figured it out months ago.

For the first time in a long time, things felt good. You felt stable and safe.

Then another headline appeared.

Dating News Rocks Fandom As Hyunjin And Y/N Go Public

Everything exploded all over again. The internet suddenly remembered your existence. Old discussions resurfaced. New rumors spread and people dug through years of photos and videos looking for proof that you cheated on Minho with Hyunjin.

Some of their fans called it betrayal and some had called it suspicious. Their fans assumed that there was some type of overlap between the two relationships. But the truth is, there hadn’t been. You were over Minho, you never even had feelings for Hyunjin until way after the breakup.

Hyunjin and everyone closest to you knew that. Hell, even Minho knew that. But the facts had never stopped the internet before, so what made you think that it would stop them now.

Six months later, another headline shook the industry. The one that was bigger than any of the others.

STRAY KIDS Parts Ways Following Final Group Activities

The reaction was immediate. Their fans cried and news outlets scrambled for statements. Every social media platform practically blew up and crashed.

Then came the rumors and speculation. Then the blame. People needed a villain. They needed someone to point the finger at, and you were the easiest target for that. You weren't famous, at least not as famous as anyone in Stray Kids.

People already knew their faces, their stories, and their lives. You were way easier to turn into the bad person to fit their narrative. Every discussion about Stray Kids’ disbandment somehow circled back to you.

According to strangers online, your breakup with Minho had shattered the group. According to others, Hyunjin dating you had caused tension behind the scenes. Most people convinced themselves and others you were the reason Stray Kids disbanded.

What the public didn't know was that Stray Kids had already been struggling long before the breakup. The members had been moving in different directions for years before you and Minho ended things. Their contracts were coming to an end. The burnout was becoming impossible to ignore and everyone was exhausted. But of course, people on the internet preferred drama.

The worst was watching their friendships crack under the pressure. Bang Chan tried to hold everyone together. Felix constantly checked on you and Hyunjin. Seungmin acted like he wasn't worried while clearly being worried. Changbin had threatened several tabloids.

Despite everything that was going on, Hyunjin stayed. It didn’t matter how ugly things got. It didn’t matter how many people accused him of betrayal and insisted that your relationship was wrong. Hyunjin still stayed with you, he still loved you through it all.

That seemed to make Minho even harder to ignore. When you two first broke up, he hadn’t had much to say to you. Not even asking how you were doing, which made it easier to move on. Now Minho did things that were simply out of the ordinary. He texted you, called you, begged you to talk to him. He claimed he ‘needed closure’ but you knew it was bullshit. He was just jealous and upset.

Regardless of the reason, you never answered his texts or calls, except to set boundaries and tell him to leave you alone. Then, he left you alone. You were able to breathe a fresh breath of air.

One day, everything changed. Minho started showing up at places that you were. At first it was just brand events that Hyunjin would be invited to. You convinced yourself that Minho was invited as well, until you happened to ask Felix about it later on to which he replied “Minho isn’t a brand ambassador for anyone anymore.” Then Minho started showing up at coffee shops near yours and Hyunjin’s shared apartment. 

One day as you came home from a workout, Minho was just sitting outside your apartment building. He didn’t say a word, he just sat there drinking tea. He watched you go inside. Your heart pounded inside your chest and you found yourself walking to your apartment quicker than usual, even though you weren’t being followed.

As soon as you were inside you slammed the door shut and quickly locked it. Hyunjin, who was sitting on the couch watching TV, noticed your frantic movements. He immediately paused it when you walked over. “Baby? What’s wrong?”

“I…I think I just saw Minho…Sitting outside.” You stumbled over your words telling him about it. Hyunjin didn’t say anything. He just jumped up and went outside the building, but Minho was no longer there. You both brushed it off as someone who looked like him.

A few days later you had gotten a tattoo. Minho texted you later that day saying how pretty the tattoo is. You were beyond weirded out so you blocked his number, but that didn’t stop him. As the days went on and turned into weeks, you got weird messages from who was obviously Minho saying things about you that he shouldn’t have known.

It was nothing threatening. It certainly couldn’t prove anything bad but it was enough to make your stomach twist.

The first time Felix brought it up, you brushed him off. "He’s getting weird y/n."

"He always has been."

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

Felix frowned. "You don't think it's strange?"

"No." That answer came too quickly and you knew it did. But deep down, part of you did think it was strange. You just didn't want to admit it because admitting it would mean admitting that the man you'd spent six years loving wasn't the person you thought he was.

*:ꔫ:* 

Across the city, in his expensive high-rise apartment overlooking the Han River, Minho sat alone in the dark. His phone illuminated the room and a picture of you filled the screen. You were happy and smiling.The photo was only taken only three days ago when you were on the phone with Hyunjin coming back from your pilates class.

His thumb slowly traced the image. As if touching the screen could somehow bring you back to him. He looked around, his apartment was cold and empty. It was also exactly the same way it had been since you two were together.

Minho stared at the photo for a long time before finally locking his phone. He smiled half heartedly “Tomorrow,” He paused for a few seconds “Tomorrow she’ll answer. I know it.”

He stared out the window for almost an hour before heading to the bedroom that you two once shared. He grabbed the photo of you he had taken a month ago of you that was sitting on his nightstand and kissed it before holding it close “Goodnight, my princess.”