your slow days with baby always started the same way.
it was ordinary, but that was what made it beautiful.
baby was the first to stir, hair a soft mess, steps dragging as he rose from his side of the bed.
arms stretching wide, he lazily yawned out. “morning, doll.”
still half asleep, he padded into the bathroom. the sound of running water was familiar and comforting like background music to your mornings.
he emerged with steam clinging to his skin, towel draped over his shoulders as he ruffled his damp hair dry. always, without fail, he laid out your towel and toothbrush for you on the sink.
“your turn,” he called out, stepping out of the shower.
breakfast followed the same rhythm. you and baby had long ago slipped into a quiet schedule, alternating days without ever needing to remind each other. today was his. he hummed tunelessly as he moved around the kitchen, shoulders swaying in time with a rhythm only he knew. he didn’t rush in plating your favorite dish, knowing you always took longer than him in the shower. he set the plate down with a kind of tender precision that once made your chest ache.
people knew baby liked to slack — the boys could attest to that. but if it’s for you, he never cut corners. your food was always cooked exactly the way you liked them, with your drink poured into your favorite mug. he didn’t even rush plating your food, knowing you always took longer than him in the shower.
he nudged your chair out from the table, leaving the fork and spoon neatly placed on the side. he set the plate down with a kind of tender precision that once made your chest ache, as though every small act was a quiet way of saying i love you.
“food’s ready!” he beamed, voice bright.
he grabbed his bowl before you could answer, then vaulted over the back of the couch in one easy motion to land squarely in his usual spot. the television flickered to life as he shoved a spoonful of food into his mouth, already reaching for the controller. as the game cut him down again and again, he smashed the buttons with frantic determination.
“ugh, you’re killing me!” he groaned after his lives ran out again, dropping his head back against the couch with dramatic flair.
he swore he heard you laugh at his unintentional pun, your giggles lacing with the sounds of the game.
“it’s not funny.” he pouted, shaking his head and refocusing on the screen. he quickly shoveled food into his mouth, grease smudging his thumb as he wiped it carelessly.
gripping the controller tighter, he leaned forward again. his fingers were a blur, putting together relentless combos in the screen. “c’mon, c’mon.”
baby shot up, pure joy spilling out in his laughter. “doll, i won! look, look—”
when he turned, his voice died in his throat.
the apartment was different.
the table where you should’ve been was empty. bottles littered the floor, rolling underfoot. greasy and torn junk food wrappers sagged across the table. the sink overflowed with dishes stacked haphazardly, some never even rinsed. the air felt stale and heavy, the weight of days pressing down.
everything didn’t look like the one he’d been picturing in his head. the one where the sunlight felt warmer, where you’d sit at the table with a sleepy smile, teasing him for getting worked up over pixels. that version was full of life. this one was grey and empty and suffocating.
his chest caved in as memories of the argument crashed back. the yelling, your tears, his stubborn anger. the slam of the door. your things still here but you gone, your presence ripped out like a missing tooth he couldn’t stop tonguing.
baby blinked. you weren’t here. you hadn’t been here for days.
“right,” he muttered, collapsing onto the couch, voice cracking on the single word. his body folded in on itself, like the weight of the silence was too much to bear.
his phone felt heavy in his hand. three days on dnd, three days of shutting the world out. when he unlocked it, the screen flooded with notifications — missed calls, dozens of messages, jinu’s name flashing again and again.
instead, his thumb hovered, bottom lip caught in between his teeth, before typing your username into the search bar.
“of course you would.” a bitter laugh slipped out from him, swallowed quickly by the ache in his throat. he pressed the home icon and scrolled blindly through his feed, desperate for distraction.
but there you were anyway.
BABY SAJA AND LONGTIME PARTNER SPLIT
FANS WONDER IF BABY IS BACK ON THE MARKET
Y/N SPOTTED WITH MYSTERY MAN DAYS AFTER BREAKUP
fans tagged him mercilessly, dissecting every angle of your absence, his silence, the ghost of your name tied to his. the world was already rewriting your story.
normally, he would feel jealous. he always had. it was no secret that he was possessive. he was always quick to remind you who you belong to. the sight of you with someone else should’ve lit him on fire, should’ve made him rage. you were his, only his. weren’t you?
but his hand went slack, the phone slipping from his fingers onto the cushions beside him. despite the game screen blaring his victory, all he felt was hollow and defeat. the truth pressed in harder than jealousy ever could: you didn’t want him anymore. you wanted distance. silence from your constant fights. freedom from the uncertainty of being with someone like him.
you no longer wanted anything to do with him. you made that clear in every tear, every word you spat before walking out. god, he really messed up this time.
like a level he could never clear, like a final boss he was doomed to lose against, baby was trapped in the shadow of your shared mornings that no longer belonged to him.
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