ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴍy ʙᴀᴋᴇʀʏ!

Sadness, logning. A little bit of anger. You looked at him and couldn’t stand to keep your eyes on him for much longer than a glance. In all his glory, the suit that fit him so well and that smile perched so perfectly on his lips. Heart shaped lips that once spilled some of the most venomous set of words you’ve heard. 

“Oh my God, ___, are you fucking clueless? Do you not see what’s happening around you at all?” Seokmin exasperates. His arms sway, making animated movements that exaggerate his rage, all that pent up frustration. 

It must be midnight, or maybe even past it. You’re not sure, your head is dizzy and your trembling fingers wouldn’t even be able to lift a pen without it clattering to the ground. Home, you know you’re at home, it was your shared apartment with your boyfriend. The boyfriend you haven’t had a single peaceful day with in months.  

Always screaming, yelling, getting irked at the smallest mistakes. 

“My surroundings are pretty fucking clear to me, Seokmin,” you antagonize, heartbeat raising with every word. He scoffs, eyebrows knitted. 

Next week should be your third anniversary. It should be, but the horrifying realization that you wouldn’t make it all the way till next week slowly creeps in. 

“Oh yeah? Then accept the fact that we’ve changed. We’re not how we used to be and you know that.” His nostrils flare, a hand gliding through his thick black locks, slightly curly. And it’s true. You have changed, the both of you. 

You started noticing minor tweaks and differences in your relationships. Dates cancelled for weeks in a row, the sudden disturbance and discomfort you couldn’t help feeling around him. Temper raised and ill-humoured arguments, the kind that made silence between you last for days. 

Then, at some point he stopped coming back home at all, sending brief text messages that he was staying at his mom’s place instead. It would’ve been better if you caught him cheating, and had a better excuse to break up. Your relationship was hanging on its thinnest threads, threatening to break. Anytime. 

But, in spite of all the feuds you and Seokmin had, you couldn’t help the ever-lasting itch of not being able to let go. He was your sun and moon, your brain and your heart. Everything, he was your everything. 

Was.

Your biggest nightmare finally came true, when you broke up that same night. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t see through Seokmin. When he came to pack his things, he didn’t even spare you a glance. You hoped to see his smile one last time, have him look back as he walked away. He didn’t, all while he knew that if it were you, you would’ve looked back. 

A distressed sigh escapes your lips. That must’ve been years ago. Three, or four maybe. Years passed, and everyone around you seems happy now. Especially Seokmin and his fiance, very soon-to-be wife. In precisely about sixty seconds she’s gonna have a shiny, shiny silver ring wrapped around her finger. 

You’re not sure why, but you’re sitting on one of the fancy chairs at their wedding, personally invited by Seokmin’s fiance. Alone. It’s obvious what her intentions are by welcoming you so warmly to your ex-boyfriend’s marriage. You should’ve stayed at home, and you know that, but you wished to see him again. With a smile on his face, even if it’s one not meant for you. 

Heejung, you recall his fiance’s name. Glittery eyes, elegant figure and fairly tall, it’s no surprise she’s Seokmin’s woman. She walks down the aisle in a perfectly straight line, one arm hooked around her father while the other holds a large bouquet of roses. Your least favourite flowers, not that it mattered. The wedding is grand, you eye-balled around two hundred people gathered in swarms. An almost royal room reserved for the occasion, with diamond chandeliers hanging off the high ceilings and far too many flashy decorations. 

Although as you consider Heejung’s appearance, you note that her dress is mediocre. Snail-paced walking combined with a slow song to support the lavish moment of her strutting the aisle. Seokmin waits, eyes sparkling with delight when she finally places her hand in his much bigger, outstretched one. 

You stare at his beaming grin, line of sight fixed on Heejung. He looks happy, too happy that for some reason it has your chest aching. You don’t like the feeling because you swear you’re ecstatic he found someone great for himself. You’re happy for him, you think at least.

Loud clapping shakes you from your reverie, people whooping for the couple who leaned in for a kiss. You tune in with your own light clapping, just for the sake of it. They look good together, you have to admit. 

The party had been moved elsewhere, just next door in a ballroom nearly as fancy as the hall where the marriage took place. Instead of walking around, you sit at one of the tables in the far corner, forking at the food. The steak is a little bit bland and you’re not a big fan of salad. 

Everyone else is up and about, dancing along to the music. You’re just about to shove a mouthful of the wedding cake that was cut earlier into your mouth, when an unexpected voice causes you to flinch. 

“___, right?” It’s Heejung, clad in that mediocre wedding dress. You put the fork in your hand down, turning to face her. 

“Yup, that’s me.” You point a thumb at yourself, an awkward smile spreading across your face. You swear you see her lips quirk downwards in disgust, but it’s gone so fast you almost doubt your own vision. Seokmin is nowhere to be found, despite the fact that they were glued-stuck to each other the last time you saw them. 

“I’m going to be tossing the bouquet soon,” she says, “why don’t you join?” 

Taken aback with the offer, you stutter. 

“Oh, me? I-I mean I’d love to but-” Heejung has a knack for being a bitch, you realize when she cuts you off, saying,

“All set then. See you at the bouquet toss, ___.” Waves a manicured hand and expertly swishes her dress around to scurry away back to the dance floor. You roll your eyes, returning your attention back to the cake. 

I guess it hurts her to be just a little bit nicer.

Still, you lift yourself off and away from your little table, deciding to just play along with her scheme. From the center of the room, her voice booms through a microphone announcing the bouquet toss event. Women from all sides gather, laughing to one another about betting on who’s going to catch it. 

You blend in with the crowd, as everyone anticipates the throw. 

“Whoever catches it, gets a special present!” She exclaims, the microphone accentuating her slightly squeaky, high-pitched voice. It hurts your ears. 

People start to count down in unison, as Heejung faces the group of women with her back. 

Three, two and one. 

As bad as today was getting, it got worse. Worse when you realized that the bouquet flew almost non-coincidentally in your direction and ended up in the grasp of your hands. Why, why, why. You just have to face Heejung all over again. That sly, sly minx with bleached blonde hair that looks healthier than your own dull, virgin hair. 

While one portion of the women beside you cheer, the other is visibly disappointed in their luck, shoulders slumped as they walk off the dance floor. You hear heels click-clacking behind you, signifying that a Heejung is approaching you. 

“Oh! What a coincidence!” She feigns surprise, running her fingertips across the soft, red petals of the flowers. A small smirk creeps up onto her face, eyes looking straight into yours. “You’re going to love this gift I have prepared for you.” 

Her skinny index finger curls, almond eyes trained on someone behind you. He brushes past you to stand next to Heejung. Him, it’s him, Seokmin. You don’t miss the way his eyes lose their spark the moment they land on you, all the while your heart has already dropped down to your stomach. 

“A dance with the groom,” she smiles, fucking smiles. 

“Babe, I don’t think-” Seokmin’s gaze doesn’t stay on you for more than a millisecond, already turning to his wife to persuade her otherwise. Too late. She raises the microphone to her baby pink lips, 

“___ is the owner of the bouquet, making her the bride for a single dance with the groom! If you’ve been spectating, please stand up because it’s our first slow-dance and we want everyone to join,” and announces, with that annoying voice. Your ears ring, and your eyes flit to Seokmin. 

He looks irritated, vexed even. His jaw clenches, pupils avoiding you like you’re not even there. The crowd that surrounds the dance floor slowly spreads out, separating into pairs of two. Some look like couples, some strangers. Heejung turns to Seokmin. 

“I’ll be sharing this dance with my dad, but you two have fun.” She gives her husband a quick peck on the lips, before trudging along the marble floor to find her father. You’re left alone with Seokmin. First time in years. 

“Hey,” You greet, voice quiet. 

“Yeah, hey.” He replies, finally meeting your scrutinizing stare. It’s weird, there’s a gentle tug at your heart. Lost in silence, you both forget there’s a task at hand. Slow music fades in and your eyes widen in recognition. How could you ever forget this song? 

Tonight you’re mine completely

The groom takes a single step closer, within arms reach. He’s not looking at you, rather focuses on placing two large hands on the curve of your waist, carefully. The thin dress you wear does nothing to stop the warmth from seeping through, which you damn it for. 

You give your love so sweetly

Your hands are perched on the very edge of his wide shoulders, afraid if you get any more comfortable, you might not want to let go. 

Tonight the light of love is in your eyes

His face is so close, but his eyes are cast downwards. All you see are his eyelashes, brushing his cheeks ever so lightly. 

But will you love me tomorrow?

You don’t have to communicate to know you’re both thinking about that day, five years ago. The same song played on that day, you remember it like the back of your hand.

Seokmin twirls you around, a toothy grin plastered on his stupidly handsome face. It’s a rainy day outside, so you decided to stay in with your boyfriend to prepare a home cooked meal in a while. If you’re being honest he was the better cook, but you enjoy the time spent together either way. 

Somewhere in the middle of chopping up some vegetables, Seokmin suddenly pulled out his phone, typed something in and scrolled. Turned on a song. You don’t know it, but it’s pleasant. 

He hums the melody, pulling you back into his embrace. 

Is this a lasting treasure, or just a moment’s pleasure?

 “This song is nice. What’s it called?” You murmur against his skin. Arms wrapped around his thick waist, head buried in the crook of his neck. The smell of his skin, fresh and warm to the touch and the faint scent of laundry from his t-shirt. 

“Will You Love Me Tomorrow,” he says, but - maybe it’s the tone he uses - he sounds a lot like he’s directing the title to you. An unsure question laced with insecurity. You pull away to look at him. His eyes are closed, voice vibrating low with the song.

Can I believe the magic of your sighs?

“Seokmin,” 

“Hm?” 

“You know I’ll love you tomorrow and forever, right?” A pretty smile tugs at his lips. He knows. Hand at the back of your head, he leans in to sweetly plant a kiss to your forehead. 

“I love you, too.” 

Will you still love me tomorrow?

His touch now, it’s familiar. But it’s not the same, not like how you remember it. It’s supposed to make you feel cozy, like butterflies are going crazy in your stomach. As you simultaneously sway to the music’s rhythm, you realize that indeed, the spark isn’t there at all. 

You missed him, sure you did. But maybe not in the way you thought you did. 

As soon as the song fades away, you step away from him and he mirrors you. The air isn’t awkward, but uncomfortable, maybe.

“I’m sorry if Heejung is bothering you. She gets jealous easily.” Seokmin suddenly speaks up, sounding sincerely apologetic. With a stammer,

“I-It’s, um, fine.” You assure, but the silence you get in response leaves you wanting to fill it. “I should get going now, though. It was nice seeing you again, Seokmin.” And you mean it. 

When you first made the decision of attending his wedding, you thought you were going to beg for him back. To please let you prove to him that you’re so much better than whoever he’s with. 

Frankly, you would’ve. He was your very first boyfriend, when you first turned nineteen. You spent half of your college years with him, thinking you would marry him. And you missed that, those years consumed by a picture-perfect relationship. 

Then you heard his voice again and carded through your favourite memories. That was all it really was about. Memories.

A hardly detectable smile pulls his lips, but it’s there. “You too, ___.” 

And he means it, too.

Once you bid goodbye to Heejung and Seokmin, you effortfully shuffle your way through the crowd, hoping to find an exit nearby. The lights have now turned flashy, causing your sight to wobble a little bit and make it harder to find your way out. God, you can’t believe they managed to make a palace ballroom look like a club. Bumping into elders and yelling ‘excuse me' through the loud music, it really wasn’t your idea of a Saturday night. 

Without warning, you feel a wet splash land on your shoulder. You yelp in surprise, but with the luck you brought to this occasion today, you figured something like this would happen.

It smells like juice. Orange juice.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” A deep, lightly nasally voice apologizes. You sigh, tired. 

“It’s okay, it’s not that big of a deal.” It is, this dress cost you big bucks. The guy is tall, sporting a white (practically see through) blouse. His muscles flex as he tries to wipe the stain off, frantically rubbing at it. You can’t see his face, he has his head downturned and all you can make out is fluffy black hair. 

Smells like some expensive shampoo.

“No it’s not. This is a Celine dress, it must’ve cost you a lot.” He says, and you hear a small pout in his tone. You can’t help the chuckle that escapes you. Cute. 

When he looks up, you almost fall backwards, taken aback. He's easily one of the most breathtaking people you’ve ever seen. All tan skin, soft hair and flawless skin. What is he doing at a marriage after-party?

He adorns a quizzical expression.

“I’m sorry. I can pay for it.” Once again, he apologizes. You don’t think about how your three hundred dollar dress is now officially orange, but more about how his jawline looks perfectly sculpted. 

“Dress aside, I really would like to know your name.” Your exit plan long forgotten, you yell through the music. He beams a smile, canines poking at his lip. 

He steps closer, mouth near your ear. “Mingyu. And you?” 

“___. Single?” 

“Most definitely.” He grins.

---

“i feel like i don’t recognize you anymore, jeonghan. honestly, you feel like a stranger.” it’s hard, so hard to to keep your voice from shaking. you grip the purse on your lap, glance at the untouched ice coffee on your boyfriend’s end. 

ice melted, cup filled to the brim with a watery and washed out beige. reminds you of him. 

“people change, ___.” he says, voice particularly smooth and calm. he’s laid-back, legs crossed and hands clasped in his lap. not at all tense, or any sort of anxious. 

“they do, but not like you. you’re not the same person i fell in love with four years ago.” your voice breaks at the mention of how you were once in love with the man in front of you. jeonghan clenches his jaw. 

his eyes empty, they bore into yours with utter void. deep brown swirls that once twinkled with love, now merciless and unforgiving. something shifts in his gaze. 

he scoffs lightly, “i’m not the same person you fell in love with? and what about you? do you genuinely think you haven’t changed?” his voice remains even, not calm, but collected. 

your brows furrow, but jeonghan continues before you can squeeze a single word in.

“you literally ruined me, ___. i gave you everything i had, piece by piece. you stopped giving back what you receive years ago. i don’t even remember the last time you put in effort into this relationship.” he sounds like he’s talking about a far, distant memory. about something painfully memorable but already given up deciphering a long while ago.

you open your mouth to retort. but you can’t find anything useful to say. you rummage through your shared memories during your nearest moments. and you do find some things. 

like how you cooked him a meal on his birthday two weeks ago. you cleaned his office for him last week because you wanted him to have a clean space to work with. you’d say all this out loud, but you know what he’d say. 

he’d say you forgot he doesn’t eat eggs and he ended up getting sick on his birthday. you cleaned his office because it bothered you, even though he specifically told you not to, otherwise it’d mess up his files and documents. 

he breaks your train of thought midway, says, “it was always about you. pity it took you a whole four years of a relationship and a break up to realize.” jeonghan silently prays to someone out there that you don’t catch a glimpse of his hopeful stare. but you do, and he’s visibly desperate.

he wishes you’ll say something that will make him change his mind, tell him you love him, that you’ll change and try better. 

instead, “i’ll move out first thing tomorrow.” is all you manage to say. 

a beat of silence passes. jeonghan takes a deep breath and wordlessly picks himself up from his chair. as he lifts a leg, his knee accidentally bumps the coffee table. his coffee cup shakes, spilling over the edges.

something about that room temperature coffee jeonghan left makes your heart ache in the most dreadful way. it reminds you of him. you left him alone for so long that he slowly melted away into someone you don’t recognize. 

Dear Soonyoung,

I know you’re a pretty popular guy in our school. You’re way out of my league, and to be honest I can’t really tell if you like having me around at all. First day of freshman year of high school was when I first laid my eyes on you. 

You were with your other equally good-looking and popular friends. And I actually wasn’t planning on approaching you at all at first. I was planning to talk to Wonwoo first if anything...but then when I nearly tripped while passing you by, you pulled me back and ended up falling yourself. 

That was funny. But I still remember it, I mean how could I not? You started laughing so hard the entire hallway was looking at you all weird. I guess it started then. Your stupid head pats and hair ruffles, the chocolate you gave me on Valentines because everyone got some but I was the only one who didn’t. 

I feel stupid confessing to you like this, acting like I’m special. I know you’re just a nice guy who likes doing nice things for others. But, it’s senior year now and even if I feel like a middle-schooler writing bullshit like this, I couldn’t stand saying all this to your face. 

I have feelings for you, Soonyoung. 

Sincerely, ___

You sigh.

It’s not the first time you’ve written a letter like this to your four year long crush. You have piles and piles of the same confession letters collecting dust in your drawer. It somehow doesn’t get boring though. Maybe it’s slightly enjoyable, or maybe it’s just that momentary satiation you get from finally saying your feelings out loud. 

Just as you shove your umpteenth letter into your drawer, the bell of your house rings. With quick steps, you rush out of your room and make a beeline straight towards the front door. Thankfully, your room isn’t that far from the main entrance to have you running. 

Through the small peephole of the door, you see Soonyoung in a plain, gray hoodie and wet hair that curtains down his forehead. As always, he looks good. 

When you open the door, he casually slips in. Strangely enough, he hasn’t been to your house more than once, but he seems quite at home despite the fact. You and Soonyoung aren’t exceptionally close, but you’ve been invited to hang out with him and his friends a couple times.

And this time you got paired up for a project, so you suggested he visit your place to work on it together. 

“Why didn’t you come after drying your hair? You’ll get sick.” You follow suit after his steps, nagging. 

“Saves electricity and time. Besides, letting your hair air-dry is much healthier than using a blow dryer.” He shakes his hair in your face, droplets of water landing on your cheeks. 

Once he realizes he reached the living room - a cozy, small space with a single couch and coffee table - he swings his backpack and lets it fall on the sofa. He claps, once, turning to face you. 

“So,” he says.

Puzzled, “So…?” You parrot. He groans, plopping down onto the carpeted floor with a hard thump. 

“You don’t think I came here to do the actual project, do you?” The question is rhetoric. Soonyoung sits cross-legged, while his elbows rest on the coffee table in front of him. 

You tilt your head in confusion. “You didn’t?” 

He gives a sassy roll of his eyes before hopping back up on his feet. Abruptly, he leans in closer, not that close, but close enough that you could feel a gentle breath fan your face. Still, the proximity has your heart skipping a couple beats. 

“Nerd.” He laughs light-heartedly, pulling away. His fruity cologne wafts in the air with every movement. He always smells like grapefruits and cocktails on a summer night.

“What did you want to do, then?” You ask, genuinely curious. He shrugs his shoulders,

“I don’t know, hang out with you. Everyone else is kind of boring.” He says. His fingers timidly play with the hem of his hoodie, and his lips are pulled into a cute frown. 

God, he just knows how to tug at your heartstrings. Your cheeks flush into a cherry red shade, and you silently will the sudden heat in your face to go away. You’re left speechless. 

“Oh,” is all you manage. Attention averted from his rather uninteresting hoodie to you, his mood seems to turn slightly blue at your response. 

“Never--nevermind, let’s just get started on the project then. I forget you’re top of the class sometimes.” There’s a tinge of rejection that tweaks his words, and you realize you’ve fucked up for the nth time in your life. 

“Wait! It’s not that I don’t want to hang out with you,” you bite your cheek, “or anything...uh,” 

His ears perk up, he hopes for a reciprocated response this time. If you ace this project, you don’t have to retake an exam you missed (for the first time in your life, because you were busy quarrelling with your sister in the morning).

But...you think you can retake that stupid test if it means you get to spend more time with Soonyoung. Fuck it, I guess.

“My room is just down the hall, first door to the right. Wait there and I’ll bring some snacks ‘round.” You instruct. You think a small bit of rebellious pride bubbles in your stomach, but you blame the feeling on the butterflies that never leave when Soonyoung’s around.

With a newfound joy, he clicks his tongue with a wink. “Yes ma’am.” 

You can’t help but let out a small laugh as he navigates away to find your room. You take your time laying out different snacks (sweets, you have an unhealthy sugar addiction), bringing a full carton of orange juice with you since you couldn’t bother pulling cups out. The house is completely empty, your family members having promised they wouldn’t come back until late night. 

When you enter your room with a full plate of some peppero, kancho, some mochi and homemade cookies, you find Soonyoung hovering over your desk. 

Shit. Your fucking letters. 

Your drawer stays unopened, but you’re still skeptical, even when Soonyoung snaps his attention away from the mess of notebooks on your desk. You mutely observe him. He looks normal. Unbothered. 

Internally, you sigh in relief. 

Shuffling to your desk, your hands quickly shove your belongings on it away to make some space. You set the plate down while Soonyoung simply intently watches you. It puts you at a slight unrest, as his gaze rakes over you intensely. 

“Take a picture, it lasts longer.” You joke, moving to sit down on your bed. He finally stirs his eyes away from you, laughing lightly. 

“I would.” Mumbles. You couldn’t hear it though. It’s not like he meant for you to hear, anyway. 

He takes a seat on the bed beside you, leaning backwards on his palms. His eyes rove over your room. The space isn’t really big, he thinks. There’s a desk just next to your bed, with a closet on the other end of the room. 

It’s decorated with some crystals on the shelves and succulents on the windowsill. He takes note that you like green and yellow, considering the large amount of plants and yellow accents. He’s pretty sure that the big plant pot in the corner of the room is a bonsai tree. 

But he’s not big on nature, so he’s not sure. 

“Nice room. Last time I came here it was all blue and stuff.” He says. You snort. 

“I was fourteen when you were last here. Besides, I pretended to be obsessed with blue to impress yo--” Slip up. “Boys. To impress boys.” 

You clear your throat. 

He laughs. “Didn’t peg you to be the type that tries to impress boys or anything.” 

“I didn’t really. It was just for someone specifically.” You say, shifting your attention to your fidgeting hands. Unconsciously, you find yourself biting your lip, a habit you haven’t been able to discard. 

Small scars litter your bottom lip, swollen and red from the damage. There’s a moment of silence before you feel an unfamiliar finger on your lips. Eyes wide, you look up. Soonyoung gently pulls your lip away from the grasp of your teeth with the pad of his thumb. 

There’s a lot of things Soonyoung’s bad at. He’s frankly horrible at math. But if you had to name something he’s good at, you could list a million things beyond school subjects. 

Like, you. He’s good with you. Slightly gentler, slightly less loud and slightly more understanding. You don’t know why, but you appreciate it. 

The finger grazes above the small dent your canines made, soothing it over. He sighs. 

“It hurts, doesn’t it?” He pouts, hand moving away. You nod, that cherry red returning back to your cheeks. It was probably that thumb of his at your lips just a second ago, but an odd sense of adrenaline rushes through you.

“Blue is your favourite color, right?” You find yourself asking, before you even have the time to register the question itself. A nod.

“Yeah, I guess. Why?” He rakes his hair with one hand, eyes sparkling. Somehow - you’re not really sure where you discovered the courage - you wordlessly stand up to open your drawer. 

In it, there’s blue envelopes upon other blue envelopes, signed to be sent to Soonyoung. You pick up your most recent one in between your fingers. With a stroke of your inner prowess, you face the destination of the letter himself. 

He tilts his head in question. 

“Here. Read it when you get home. Only when you’re alone, okay?” You hand it to him, and he accepts it with humble hands. 

“Okay.” He breathes. 

It had been days since he went home with the blue envelope tucked in his pocket. He hadn’t spoken to you at all, even when you passed by him in the hallways or when you sat next to each other during English class. It’s not that you didn’t expect it. 

You knew you kept your hopes too high. He had more than just you that he could turn to for company, girls swarmed around him every chance they got. Prettier girls. Girls who liked the things he did. 

Another school day finished, chit chats with some classmates keeping your mind off things. Focusing on school would be the best, for now anyway. College is just around the corner, and you’d hate to lose your straight A streak because of some silly crush. 

It’s about six in the evening when you complete studying the required chapters for an upcoming test. You’re now collecting some belongings from your locker to finally head home. You usually stay back at school to study in the library instead of going home. It helps you concentrate better, in a way. A yawn escapes you, tired. The school is empty for the most part, save a couple students walking around. 

“How do you study so much?” A voice creeps up from behind, making you jump. Familiar, but not Soonyoung. Momentarily, you pause the act of shoving books into your bag. You crane your neck to meet the person, just to find that it’s,

“Seokmin,” you question, “what are you doing here so late?” 

Seokmin is just another one of your classmates, he shares physics and chemistry classes with you. Someone who hangs around Soonyoung and Wonwoo a lot. Most students here know their name, pretty much everyone has seen them at least once in this entire building. He’s good-looking and most definitely humorous, you’ve shared some laughs with him. 

“Waiting for you, kind of.” He says. 

Huh? Seokmin? For you?

Almost like he could read your mind, “I  have something to give you really quick but I didn’t want to disturb your studies, so,” he explains. 

Your mouth forms the shape of an ‘o’. “What is it?” 

An envelope is pulled out of one of his back pockets, and he sheepishly hands it to you. You only notice the sage green color of it once it’s in your own hands. 

“Alright, I gotta run now. See you on Monday!” He waves, before he sprints off and down the hallway, disappearing behind the corner. 

You huff, curiously exploring the envelope. Pastel yellow heart cut-outs glued onto the front and back of it, with wrinkled paper lines on the sides. A hand-made origami envelope. You giggle a little bit at the evident effort.

You pull out a folded piece of paper, which you open to be greeted by scribbly, messy handwriting. You recognize this handwriting.

Dear  ___,

I’m going to be completely honest...I’ve never written anything remotely like this since 1st grade when we were writing thank you letters for Parent’s Day. But, I’ll try my best, since yours was so beautifully written. That day at your house, I actually opened one of these. I’m sorry for invading your privacy like that by the way. I saw my name on the receiver’s name and I couldn’t help it. 

I was pretty surprised. It never crossed my mind that you thought of me that way, since you always seemed a little bit...indifferent? I swear I’m not trying to insult you or anything, I just don’t know how else to put it. I remember that day too, first day of freshman year. Your hair was in a ponytail and your backpack was huge. 

I also remember I wanted to ask you out for the school dance in sophomore year so bad but I didn’t have the courage so I went with my friends instead. I never got to tell you how stunning you looked that day. I always observed you from afar, because I was afraid you wouldn’t like guys like me, loud and most definitely not smart. I guess I was wrong. 

I’ve seriously liked you for the longest time ever. So like meet me in the janitor’s closet at 6:15 today?

I’ll be waiting. (just until 7 tho, I can’t be late for dinner or my mom will have my head)

Yours Truly, Kwon Soonyoung

Your cheeks are pulled up into one of your best smiles. At a rapid speed, you shove the letter back in the envelope, although carefully. Abandoning your backpack and all other clobber, you check the time.

6:12 

Quickly - that was the only thing plaguing your mind as you steered along different halls, looking for that door with big ‘JANITORS CLOSET’ letters splayed across it. And it was there. In a haste, you opened the door to see a Soonyoung leaning against one of the steel shelves. 

He looks up, a giddy grin on his lips. 

“___,” He calls. You like the way your name rolls off his tongue. It makes you sound special, somewhat. 

“Soonyoung, I-” Soonyoung doesn’t give you any more time before he grabs your wrist to pull you close. Chest to chest, knee to knee. He’s close, so so close.

Enough that you could count the sparkly flecks in those deep brown swirls of his if you wanted to. Proximately near that all you can smell is that fucking citrus cologne that he wears everyday, so addictive you want him this close all the time. 

“Can I kiss you?” Soonyoung asks, hushed. Your nod is all he needs. 

His soft lips meet yours, timid at first. Gentle and sweet, he tilts his head to get a better angle, and there it is, the taste of Coca Cola chapstick. Strangely, you find yourself not being able to get enough of it. Your arms move to wrap around his neck, but due to the lack of space, your back ends up bumping into some equipment. 

“Ow,” you mumble against his lips. Momentum broken. 

He laughs, pulling away. A little bit out of breath, you both take a couple seconds to catch it, foreheads against each other. 

“You okay?” He exhales, minty breath fanning your cheeks.

With a giggle, you respond with a ‘yes’. You lean in for a soft peck. Everything was just so perfect, at the time. 

;

Of course, it’s easy to say that things feel perfect. Because it’s true, at the given time, it really was. But after years pass, things change. Now that you sit at your high school reunion six years later, you realize that. 

It’s a warm and cute cafe where the reunion is held. A juxtaposition next to the wintry weather just outside the glass windows. Here they all are. 

Wonwoo, the dude you didn’t really know, but heard of in every hall, now sitting tall and quiet across you. Seokmin, a handsome funny kid, always loud in the halls, looking even better and just as loud as more than half a decade ago. Taehee, a girl you shared almost every single one of your classes with, someone you shared a lot of memories with.

A couple others whom you spent a fair-share of your high school years with. 

And, Soonyoung. Your ever-so-good-looking high school boyfriend, a man you held most dear to your heart. Six years. Six years since that day you first got together. Funny how even though it’s been that long he didn’t change, at all. Apart from his features maturing to sculpt him just right, like a fossil, he’s almost the exact same. 

They’re all laughing about something you vaguely heard was about graduation day, and how half of them didn’t know what was next. You observe them all, sipping on your coffee.

It’s so sweet it makes your teeth ache. You don’t like coffee, to be frank. There’s always that bitter aftertaste you can’t get rid of no matter how much sugar you stir into it.

“___, what happened to you and Soonyoung? You guys used to be all over each other.” Seokmin mentions, while chewing on some cake he ordered. You turn to look at Soonyoung.

He’s smiling at you, that smile you remember from years ago. Returning his twinkle with a smile of your own, you both shrug in unison. 

“Not everything lasts, I guess.” Wonwoo mutters, tuning into the conversation. 

Like the painful sweetness of this coffee, yours and Soonyoung’s love was like the weight of thousands of sugar cubes. But the bitterness at the end was inevitable. You both didn’t like the unpleasant tang it offered, but the sweetness was warm and fuzzy while it lasted. 

It was like coffee. You and him. 

---