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Dating James wasn’t normal—it wasn’t meant to be. He’s an idol. And well, you are…a student. That should’ve been your first warning. You should’ve understood that, but you didn’t. Of course you didn’t.

You and James started dating long before he became James from CORTIS. You knew him as James from Trainee A, James post Trainee A. To you, he was just…James. Now the world knows him differently. With stacked schedules, comeback showcases, and intercontinental interviews, he was busy. Obviously. 

It hadn’t always been like this. Back then, everything felt simpler. His world didn’t stretch as far, didn’t demand as much of him, and somehow, you fit into it without having to try so hard. You didn’t have to think about timing, or schedules, or whether he’d be free. You just… were. And so was he. It never crossed your mind that one day, being with him would start to feel like something you had to work around instead of something that just existed. But things change. Slowly, quietly—until you don’t really notice it happening at all.

Nights where you both could ramble endlessly—about anything. Whether it was the absolutely rigorous schedule James had, or your worries about university. Nights like that? Long gone.

You wish you’d cherished them more.

Fuck, you really do.

Because now that he’s actually achieving his dreams, you’re almost sidelined. Back then, you ran parallel to them—but now it feels like you’ve been left at a pit stop.

“James, stop that!” your voice—accompanied by giggles, echoed through the living room of your apartment as he tickled you.

“Give me the remote,” he whined, grabbing your wrists and trapping you, making it easier to steal it from you.

“It was my chance to pick a show.” You muttered, trying to push him off. 

He only laughed, the sound soft and close, before leaning down and nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“Let’s not watch anything today,” he murmured instead, arms wrapping around you—warm and grounding, like he had nowhere else to be. 

“Jami, you good?” you murmured, fingers absentmindedly playing with his hair.

He only hummed in response, tightening his grip around you—like you might slip away if he didn’t hold on. As if leaving him had ever been that easy.

You used to wake up tangled in him. Used to fuck up making pancakes together at 2 a.m. because neither of you could cook and neither of you cared enough about the pancakes. But now? Now you’re lucky to even receive a text. You shouldn’t be mad, it’s his job. You knew that before you started dating. But something about getting replaced by his job hurts. 

It started simple, a simple ‘Sorry love, won’t be able to make it tonight.’That was fine. He was busy—he had dreams. Gradually it got worse. Missed anniversaries, missed birthdays. All with the same excuse—’Sorry love, got practice. Love you tho.’ 

One thing you hated was when people said things just for the sake of saying them. ‘Love you’ but you don't feel it anymore. Now, you're staring at a 2 tier cake with one dimly lit candle that says, ‘happy 6 year anniversary’. Sounds wrong, 6 years out of which you don't remember the last 3. Yet again, he’s not here. Sometimes, it feels like you’re dating whatever pieces of him his career leaves behind.It sounds egoistical—you know that. How hypocritical of you to support him and then conclude that the only reason you’ve been sidelined is because of something you supported him in.

The wax from the candle had almost melted onto the frosting by the time a notification snapped you back into reality

Waiting 2 hours for an explanation was bad, but waiting for an explanation on your anniversary? That's insanity. You put your phone down, a heavy sigh slipping past your lips. Your mind is flooded with thoughts—maybe he doesn’t need me anymore, maybe I'm just a burden.

But for some reason, James didn’t try to fix it either. Who just leaves it at being busy? It’s your anniversary. You know better than reaching out to him. 

A day doubled to two, two to four and from four days, it's suddenly been a week. James has been quiet.

And honestly? You’ve stopped waiting.

On the other hand, James has been trying everything to keep you out of his mind. Out of sight, out of mind, they say. But how was he supposed to keep you out of sight when you were everywhere? James opens his phone? A picture of you two. He opens his wallet to pay for something? A polaroid of you. He opens his laptop to produce music? A picture of you again. Fuck that, he even found a polaroid of you both in his pocket.

Martin slides his chair closer, “What’s with you?” Keonho chirps in from the couches, “You’ve been very lowkey with mentioning Yn, what’s mom up to?”

Juhoon chuckles beside him, “Ask her yourself, she loves you anyway.” James doesn’t look up from his screen. He stays quiet for a while before finally mumbling,

‘Don’t.

His words catch everyone's attention. Seonghyeon slides his chair closer too, leaning forward. “What do you mean don’t?”

James murmurs, “We broke up, I think…” 

Everyone erupts with questions— “How?” “What?? WHEN?”

“‘We’re fighting.’”

Juhoon rolls his eyes. “‘What did you do?’”

James finally looks up from his laptop, brows furrowing. “‘What do you mean what did I do? It could be her fault too.’”

Seonghyeon snorts, pushing James’ chair back with his foot. “‘Sure, man.’”

James lets out an annoyed sigh before launching into the story—missing your anniversary because of schedules, not showing up for your anniversary because of the live, the argument that followed. How you asked why Keonho could skip the live for his sister’s birthday while he couldn’t do the same for you.

Keonho immediately sits up straighter. “Wait, you told her that?”

“I mean… yeah?”

“Well that makes you look horrible.”

Martin blinks. “No, because hold on—you missed your anniversary bro?”

“‘I said I was busy, I got her cake for it too.”

Juhoon stares at him for a second before laughing in disbelief. “No way you actually think cake is a valid excuse.”

“We had schedules—”

“You always have schedules,” Seonghyeon cuts in. “That’s literally her point.”

James presses his lips together, jaw tightening. Keonho tilts his head. “And you seriously didn’t see why she got upset when I skipped for my sister?”

“I couldn’t just leave.”

“You could’ve, I did too.” Keonho says carefully. “You just didn’t think you needed to.”

Juhoon frowns. “Okay, but you guys talked after that, right?”

James goes quiet. “…Right?” Martin repeats slower this time.

James rubs a hand over his face. “Not really.”

“What does ‘not’ really mean?”

“We haven’t talked in a week.”

Then all at once, he’s bombarded again—

“A WEEK?!” “ARE YOU INSANE?” “JAMES????”

Juhoon asks again, “‘And you said you think you broke up?’”

James finally looks irritated, defensive more than anything. “I don’t know, okay? She stopped replying and I figured she needed space.”

Seonghyeon just stares at him. “James,” he says slowly, “I genuinely think your girlfriend hates you right now.”

James groans, shoving his face in his palms. He lets out a muffled, “Fuck, what did I do.”

Martin lets out a deep sigh, “God you’re so dumb for your age, go talk to her.” He pauses, staring at James still sitting there like an idiot. Seonghyeon and Martin both kick the legs of his chair hard. ‘I said go!” 

For some reason James doesn’t move. He looks at martin and says

James thinks the worst part about all of this should’ve been the fighting. It’s a fight, it happens. You move on. That’s what usually happens. Disagreement, argument, apologising and moving on. That’s how you both rolled, but this time—this time it was different. There wasn’t any apologising or even attempts to talk it out. Just, silence.

This week for James was full of reminders and pieces of you he carried everywhere. You mattered a lot to him. It hit him how much he actually relied on you. Being the oldest, he carried responsibilities and sometimes he just needed someone like you to talk to. Someone who didn’t expect anything from him. Someone who just wanted him. Not any idolised version, no expectations, no nothing. You just wanted him for him. 

James didn’t realise how much of you existed in his life until suddenly, there was nothing. No texts asking if he’d eaten yet. No random instagram reels or tiktoks at weird hours into the night. No missed calls from you because you “just wanted to hear his voice for a second.”

Nothing.

That terrified him more than the fighting ever could. Because arguments meant you still cared enough to be upset. Silence didn’t. Silence felt like a verdict. The worst part was that James knew this wasn’t sudden. Looking back now, the signs were painfully obvious. The shorter replies. The way you stopped complaining when he cancelled plans. The way you started saying “it’s okay” too quickly.

God.

How did he not notice it sooner?

Or maybe he did notice. Maybe he just thought you’d always stay anyway. That thought alone made guilt twist violently in his stomach. James had gotten so used to you understanding him that he stopped trying to understand you back. Every missed dinner, every forgotten date, every “sorry baby, schedules got extended”—he always assumed there’d be another chance to make it up to you later.

Later.

Everything with him was always later. Later when promotions ended. Later when schedules calmed down. Later when he could finally breathe again. But you waited through all of it. And he just…let you.

Fuck.

The anniversary. James squeezes his eyes shut, the memory making his chest ache. You sitting alone with that cake while he was busy doing a live he barely even remembered now.

The realization makes him feel sick.

Because Keonho was right. He could’ve left earlier. He could’ve skipped it. He could’ve chosen you for once instead of assuming you’d understand again. But he didn’t. The worst part about all of this wasn’t even that you were angry at him.

It was the possibility that you were finally done understanding him at all. 

He rushed to your house. 

Heavy and continuous knocks echoed throughout your apartment. You open your door just enough to take a peek at who’s at the door. 

James. He’s breathing a little too heavily, his forehead has a thin layer of sweat and he’s looking at you with those eyes. Those eyes that spoke before he could. 

You freeze for a second, door opened completely now. “James?” You let out shakily. 

He looks at you, “Can I come in?” He pauses, “Please?”

You let him in. He followed you to your couch hesitantly. When you sat down, he didn’t sit down beside you. Instead, he got on his knees. His forehead resting on your knees. 

He didn’t look up. “I’m sorry.” 

Silence. He took a deep breath, “I’m sorry for being an ass, I'm sorry for being the worst boyfriend ever, I’m sorry for never making time for you, I’m sorry for just…just–” the words caught up in his throat. 

James inhales shakily, shoulders trembling slightly. ‘I-I’m sorry.” His voice cracks halfway through it. Before you can even react, he buries his face deeper into your lap, palms pressing harshly against his eyes like he’s trying to stop himself from falling apart completely.

The room falls quiet again. You don’t know what to say. Because this is James. Your James. The same boy who always kept himself together no matter how exhausted he was. The same boy who laughed through stress and brushed everything off with an easy smile. But right now, he looks ruined. ‘James…’ Carefully, you try lifting his head from your lap, but he only shakes his head stubbornly, fingers curling tighter into your hoodie.

‘James, get up.’ Another small shake of his head. ‘James,’ your voice softens despite your anger, ‘I can’t talk to you like this. Look at me.’

And when he finally does, your breath catches in your throat. His eyes are red and glossy. “Don’t cry.” You say pushing him away slightly. “I won’t accept your apology simply because you’re crying.”

The moment the words leave your mouth, James’ eyes get more watery, he looks up trying not to let the tears slip. His lips part slightly for just a second before he quickly nods. “I know,” he says quietly. “I know that.”

You pull yourself away from his grip gently, creating a little distance between the both of you. Distance allowing you to think, allowing you to breathe—because god, seeing James cry was never easy.

Not when he was the type to hold everything in until it consumed him whole—untill it got so bad he couldn’t keep it in anymore.

“You don’t get to do this now,” your voice shakes despite your attempts to steady it. “You don’t get to ignore me for a week and then show up crying and suddenly expect everything to be okay again.”

“I know.”

“You always know, James.” A sarcastic laugh leaves your lips. “That’s the problem. You know and then you do it anyway.”

He lowers his gaze again..

“I waited for you,” you whisper, and somehow those four words hurt more than yelling ever could. “Do you even understand how horrible that feels? To wait for someone only for them to never show up?”

James swallows harshly.

“I sat there like an idiot waiting for you, I thought you were late because of late night practices or your company, or something but–”  voice cracks, “—You decided not to show up. The live clearly wasn't important enough. Not important at all if Keonho and Seonghyeon could skip it.”

James squeezes his eyes shut.

“Every single time you cancelled on me, I told myself it was okay because you were tired. Because you were busy. Because your dream was finally happening and I wanted to support you so badly.” Tears blur your vision. “Do you know how hard I tried not to become someone that held you back?”

“Baby—”

“No, let me finish.”

He goes quiet again. “I kept understanding and understanding until one day I realized you stopped trying altogether.” Your breathing grows uneven. “You missed our anniversary, James.”

His face crumbles instantly.

“You missed it and somehow I still ended up feeling bad for you because you were stressed.” A broken laugh escapes you. “Do you know how messed up that is?”

“I know,” he says again, voice hoarse now. “I know and I hate myself for it.” Then quietly—“I fucked up.” James finally looks at you properly again, eyes red and swollen. “I got too comfortable,” he admits shakily. “I got so used to you always being there that I stopped being careful with you.”

Your chest tightened painfully.

“I kept thinking there’d be more time.” He laughs weakly through his tears. “Later after promotions. Later after schedules calmed down. Later after everything settled.” His voice breaks again. “I didn’t realize later was hurting you. I never stopped loving you,” James whispers desperately. “Not once. I swear to god, not once.”

“Then why did I feel so alone?”

James lets out a shaky breath before dropping his forehead against your knees again. “I don’t know,” he chokes out miserably. “I genuinely don’t know when I became someone that could hurt you this much.”

The room falls silent except for his uneven breathing. You hate this. You hate how much you still love him despite everything. Hate how one look at him falling apart makes your anger weaken around the edges.

“I was angry,” you admit quietly. “But after a while I just…” You pause. “I got tired.”

James looks up immediately at that. That hurts him more than anything else you’ve said tonight. You weren't tired or angry. You were just done. You’d given up. “No, no—” he shakes his head quickly, panic slipping into his expression again. “Please don’t say that.”

“You made me feel like loving me was inconvenient.”

“I know.”

“You made me feel stupid for missing you.”

“I know.”

“You made me feel like I was asking for too much when all I wanted was you.”

James physically winces. “I know,” he whispers again, tears spilling over finally. “I know, I know and I’m so fucking sorry.”

You stare at him for a long moment. “You really hurt me.”

“I know.” His voice cracks again. “And if I could take it back, I would. I swear I would. I’ll fix it.” 

You don’t respond. 

“I mean it,” he says quickly, crawling closer without even realizing it. “I’ll do better. I’ll make time. I’ll answer your calls even if I’m exhausted, I’ll leave schedules early if I need to, I’ll—”

“James.”

“No, please.” His hands grab yours carefully. “Please let me fix this. Take me back. Please.”

Your eyes sting again, tears welling up.  “I hate how much I love you,” you whisper before you can stop yourself.

His entire expression changes. “You still love me?”

You let out a watery laugh. “Unfortunately.”

James actually sobs at that. A pathetic, relieved sound leaves him as he presses your hands against his face. “Oh my god,” he laughs through tears, “oh my god, I thought I lost you.”

“You did.”

That makes him immediately. And for the first time tonight, James truly understands how close he came to losing the best thing in his life. “I’m serious this time,” he says softly. “I’ll do better.”

You study his face carefully. “You don’t get another chance after this.”

“I know.”

“And if you start making me feel alone again, I’m leaving.”

James nods so fast it almost looks ridiculous. “Okay. Okay, I understand.”

Silence settles between the both of you again. Then finally, quietly—“I’ll give you another chance.”

James freezes. Like he physically stops breathing. “What?”

You sniffle, looking away from him. “I said I’ll give you another chance, idiot.”

His reaction is instant. “Holy shit.” Before you can even process it, James shoots up from the floor so quickly you nearly yelp as he suddenly pulls you up with him. “James—!”

He wraps his arms around you impossibly tight before lifting you clean off the ground. A startled laugh escapes you as he spins you around the living room. “Oh my god,” he keeps repeating breathlessly against your cheek. “Oh my god, I love you, I love you so much—”

“James!”

“I’m serious,” he says frantically, setting you down only to cup your face immediately after. “I love you so much, I’m so sorry, I’m so fucking sorry—”

Then he kisses you like he’s been dying to do it for years. When he pulls away, his forehead rests against yours, both of you breathing unevenly. “I love you,” he whispers again, eyes glossy. “God, I love you.”