sunnyrisee

"Earth to Yn," your friend, Hana, calls out, snapping you out of your spiralling thoughts. She’s perched at the edge of the desk, her eyes studying you with playful curiosity. She was the reason you took this job, she'd told you to take it since you'd been on the hunt for something similar anyway.

"You look like you’re a million miles away. What’s going on?" You offer her a tight smile, shaking your head slightly. If you told her what was going on in your mind she'd tease you for it, or worse actually find Seungmin.

She was on the side of telling him the truth about everything. Admitting how much you loved him and just letting it all out into the air but you were refusing to.

"Nothing. Just… you know, first-day jitters." You shrugged and she smirked at you, shaking her head a little. She knew exactly when you were lying.

"It's about him again, right?" She watched you, studying your reaction but you shook your head. Moving over to the drawers inside of the room and doing a stock check on everything even though you'd done that four times already.

"I don't know what you're talking about," You mumbled, looking at all of the bandages in the drawer you were searching through. Trying to appear busy so she would drop the subject and move on already.

"Sure, and I'm a princess from Eldora. Tell me what's going on." She pulled your hand away from the drawers and made you look at her.

Sighing a little you rolled your eyes, she was probably sick of hearing you talk about it but you couldn't help but let it all out.

"It's weird...What if I see him? Do I act like I don't know about the dating rumours?"

"Yes, because they're not true." She mumbled at you, sitting you down on the edge of the bed and shaking her head at you. She'd been telling you this from the start that none of the rumours had actual hard evidence behind them.

"But-"

"Yn, if Seungmin was dating someone I would fucking know about it. I have eyes and ears all over this place. that man's solely had his eyes on you for the last six months." She laughs softly and you feel your body heating up.

Seungmin and you had been talking for six months, ever since he'd seen you helping an elderly woman who'd fallen in the street and he came over to help as well. You had no idea who he was at the time and it wasn't until your second time meeting that you realised he was an idol

But by then you'd already fallen for him and not because he was some famous popstar...Which Seungmin loved. He'd adored the fact that you treated him like an actual human instead of just someone who was famous. The two of you hung out a lot.

To the point where the lines blurred between friendship and dating and it was hard to determine if you were a couple or just friends. That was until his birthday when you'd seen dating rumours of him seeing someone else, someone he hadn't told you about and you felt your whole world crumble.

You'd not seen him since, despite having made him a hand knitted scarf for the winter, wanting him to have something handmade from you and something to keep him cosy.

"Hana-"

"Don't say my name like you're giving up on everything. Seungmin would never do something to hurt you." She tells you but you shake your head. It wasn't as if you were a couple, if he was seeing other people it was okay.

"It's in the past." You whisper a little trying to get off the subject now but she scoffs,

"That scarf you made for him says otherwise. You carry it around like it's a security blanket," Your breath catches in your throat, and you freeze, hoping no one else heard that. The scarf was always in your bag, she was right it was like a security blanket. You glance around the empty station trying to make sure no one heard you both, but your heart skips a beat when you realize you're not as alone as you thought you were. Footsteps approach from behind, too quiet to be anyone else but someone familiar.

You don’t dare turn around.

“What scarf?” a voice asks. That voice. The one you've been thinking about every single day for weeks now. The same voice that made your heart skip a beat whenever you heard it and your whole body erupt in goosebumps.

Seungmin.

Hana’s eyes widen in surprise, her hand flying up to her mouth as she stifles a laugh and you already knew she had something to do with him being down here.

“Oops,” she whispers to you, before straightening up with a smile, completely unbothered by the tension hanging in the air.

"Oh, this scarf that Yn made—"

"Stop!" You interject, your voice too loud, too hurried as you put your hand over her mouth to stop her from revealing anything else to him. You feel the heat rise to your face as Seungmin’s gaze locks onto yours, amusement and curiosity flickering in his eyes. His lips quirked up into a small smile, his expression soft but focused on you.

“You made a scarf?” Your throat goes dry, and you can’t think of a single reasonable response. The scarf. You had made it for him a month ago, back when things between you two felt simpler when your heart didn’t ache every time you heard his name. You had never given it to him, too scared of what it might imply — too scared of how much you cared.

Now, he’s standing in front of you, looking like he actually wants to know the answer.

“I—” you start, but your voice falters, you don't know where to begin or what to say. Was saying something too much? Was it weird that you made him it? Your eyes dart to Hana for support, but she’s clearly enjoying this too much to help.

"It’s nothing," you manage to say, barely above a whisper.

"Just something I made f-for you a while ago." Seungmin tilts his head slightly, his brows furrowing as if he's trying to piece something together. He takes a step closer, and suddenly the room feels smaller, the space between the two of you charged with unresolved emotions.

"For me?"

"Yeah, it's just- and I- and you- and then-" You stumbled over everything and it made Seungmin smile to see you so flustered in front of him. All of the other times you'd been so calm and collected around him, it was nice to see this side for once.

Without a word, Hana slipped silently out of the room leaving the two of you together as he smiled at you,

“Well, I’d like to see it sometime,” he says softly, his voice gentle, almost teasing. You swallow hard, unable to form a response as his eyes linger on yours for a moment longer

"Seungmin-"

"Please? It's been so long since I saw you and I missed you on my birthday." He admits shyly as he sits down on the nurse's bed and watches you closely.

God, it had been so long since you'd seen him and you'd missed him too but hearing him say it to you had your heart racing and your stomach twisting.

"It's...It's nothing, it's just a scarf." You stumble a little on your words as you reach down and grab your bag, pulling out the scarf you'd spent weeks making for him. Seungmins eyes lit up as he saw it,

"You made this?"

"Yeah..yeah, it was, well it's your favourite colours." you smile warmly as he takes the fabric from your hands, your fingers brushing against one another sending a wave of electricity running through you but it was nothing compared to seeing him wear the scarf around him

"I love it," He admits as you feel your heart leap into your throat and he smiles at you, a small blush on his cheeks.

"You don't have to lie, it's nothing special and I know you're with someone else," You whispered but he took your hand in his, running his other across your face and smiling sweetly as you leaned into his touch.

"There's no one else, there's never been anyone but you, Yn." He smiles as your eyes meet his, your heart practically racing and handing itself over to him.

"The first time I saw you I count as day one of our eternity together." With that he kisses you softly, your breath catching in your throat as you kiss him back gently wrapping your arms around the back of his neck and pulling him closer to you.

"I'll pick you up after work," He smiled as he leant his forehead against yours as you giggle a little,

"Sure-"

"We're going on a date too, okay? Because I'm yours and I don't want any doubts in that pretty little head of yours." He smirks before kissing you once again.

Seungmin kisses you goodbye every morning. It’s like clockwork: he puts on his shoes, pours his coffee in a mug, kisses you goodbye, and is out the door. Both of you are routine-oriented people. You like schedules and organized silverware drawers. Ever since you first got together, Seungmin has been kissing you goodbye whenever you part ways, and nearly a year later that hasn’t changed. It’s sweet that he always remembers, and the fact that it’s practiced doesn’t make it feel any less sincere.

This morning is more of the same. You get up before him, as always, and put the coffee on. You check your emails while your breakfast cooks. Seungmin emerges just as the food is done (too late to actually eat it, as always) and goes to get his coat and shoes from the door. He loops back around to put his coffee in the cup you washed the previous night and leans down to where you’re sitting at the table to kiss you lightly on the lips. It’s so rote as to be unnotable, but it makes you smile anyway, your day instantly brighter.

“I love you,” you call after him, as you always do, and Seungmin waves as he leaves, throwing a “Be safe!” over his shoulder.  And then the door closes, and you’re alone.

In a few minutes, you’ll go to work at your office job. Later, you’ll come home and make dinner. At some point in the day, Seungmin will text you to let you know if he’ll be coming home or not, so that you’ll know if you need to make one portion or two. You normally make two anyway, and just leave the second wrapped up in the fridge. If worst comes to worst, you don’t mind eating the leftovers. It’s far more horrible in your mind to not have food ready for him when he is home. It’s not that Seungmin expects food from you. He’s expressed multiple times that he can buy food on his way home. But you like cooking for him, and lately you don’t get much chance because he’s so busy. You want things to be perfect when he’s home because the time you get together is precious. You’re not obsessive about it, or anything. You’re not “playing housewife” as your friends sometimes say. It’s not a crime to want to take care of your boyfriend.

Right now is a bit of a hectic period, and you haven’t seen him much for a while. You were surprised he even had the time to come home the previous night, although of course you were grateful. When he does come home, he gives you his undivided attention, like you’re the only person on earth. It makes the wait worth it. And he kisses you goodbye every morning because he loves you, and you can feel it on your lips all day, and it assuages the loneliness you might otherwise feel.

Today you have lunch with Ahrin, Hyunjin’s girlfriend. You have good relationships with the partners of all the boys, but you’re a bit closer to Ahrin, maybe because you two are so similar. Ahrin is quieter than the other women, and is more content to observe rather than participate. She’s witty and sharp-tongued, but still kind, and has a gentleness to her that makes her easy to open up to. She calls you up and complains she hasn’t seen you in a while and asks to have a meal with you that afternoon. You haven’t been feeling work very much, and you do miss her, so you agree to take a late lunch and meet her a cafe near your office.

Ahrin is radiant as always, and you make small talk about your families before devolving into complaining about mundanities: annoyances at work and the price of fruit at the supermarket. As you’re speaking, you notice Ahrin is wearing a dainty gold necklace that you don’t recognize, and cut yourself off to ask about it.

“Oh, this? It’s Cartier. Hyunjin bought it for me,” she says, bringing a hand up to touch the small pendant like she’d forgotten she was wearing it. “He’s on this kick about couple’s jewelry.”

“It’s beautiful,” you say, and you mean it. It suits Ahrin’s softness and sophistication. He may have bought it because it was Cartier, but he clearly put some thought into it besides the designer label.

“Thank you,” she says, genuinely pleased. “I try to wear something he bought me whenever I go visit him.”

“Are you going to see him today?”

“I just come from there, actually. He took my credit card in his wallet, so I had to go get it back.”

“Oldest trick in the book,” you say.

Ahrin rolls her eyes. “I know. But it’ll work every time. I can’t help that I need it to go about my day.”

She doesn’t sound the least bit bothered. Ahrin and Hyunjin have been together for two years, and it’s a trick he’s pulled ever since they started living together, the “accidentally taking one of Ahrin’s things to work.” You’ve asked her before why she doesn’t confront him about it, but she says that she thinks it’s cute how he keeps coming up with excuses to see her, and anyway, she also likes having excuses to see him.

You also think it’s cute, if in a more wistful way. Seungmin is organized to a T, and he’s never needed you to bring him something he’s forgotten or vice versa. In fact, you can’t remember if you’ve ever visited him at work at all. You don’t think it’s that strange, though. It’s not like he’s made a habit of showing up to your workplace. Also, you likely wouldn’t have the time even if he’d offered. It does dampen your mood a bit though, especially as Seungmin texts you in the middle of your conversation that he in fact, would not be coming home today, meaning you would have to eat dinner alone tonight.

Ahrin notices the dip in your mood as you set your phone back on the table.

“Bad news?” she asks.

You swipe the notification away.

“It’s nothing. Seungmin just texting me about how busy they are.”

Ahrin hums in understanding. “Well, what can you do. At least it’s not as crazy as it was a few months ago.”

“Isn’t it?” You’ve been seeing less of Seungmin than you had in ages, and you’d assumed it was because their schedules had been bordering on unbearable lately. But Ahrin looks confused at your question.

“I don’t think so. Busier than last month, yeah. But they’re not filming anything right now, so the schedule isn’t as rigid. Seungmin hasn’t talked to you about this?”

You feel embarrassed, somehow. “He doesn’t talk about work much when he’s with me. He likes to keep it separate.”

“That makes sense. You should ask him to share his schedule with you, though. What if you need him and you don’t know where he is, or when he’ll answer?”

“I know where he’s at, generally. He tells me if he’s traveling. I just don’t know the minutiae.”

“You’re allowed to know. You should, for your own peace of mind.”

It’s not that it hadn’t occurred to you to ask. Seungmin told you his whereabouts if you questioned him, and he even volunteered information every once in a while, so you hadn’t thought much of it. And you didn’t suspect him of cheating on you ever in a million years. You knew he had other hobbies and friends as well- a whole life outside you that you weren’t privy to and didn’t need to be. But was it possible you were being a bit too aloof about your boyfriends daily habits? Why didn’t he share what he was doing, if he wasn’t at work? Why didn’t you know?

“I’ll ask him,” you say. “You’re right.”

Ahrin smiles encouragingly, and the topic is dropped for other matters. The odd feeling in your stomach doesn’t settle, though, and by the time you’ve finished your day and sat down to eat dinner, you realize you’ve unfortunately lost your appetite.

Seungmin calls you the next day to say he’ll be staying at the dorm for several days, and you tell him okay, thanks for telling me, I love you, goodbye. After you hang up the phone, you berate yourself for not asking more questions. You’re his girlfriend. You should be care that he’s leaving you alone for days at a time, you think as you drive to work. Maybe he’d been waiting for you to ask what he’d be doing or pester him for spoilers about the group’s upcoming plans. Maybe he wanted you to pout and whine about missing him and beg him to come home. You’d never done any of those things before, but maybe you should be. Maybe he’d called you hoping you would do those things and had hung up the phone disappointed.

The central problem of dating an idol is always a scarcity of time. They’re always busy, and because they’re always busy, you as a partner need to have a life outside them that is full and fulfilling, and sometimes those two schedules conflict. You can go long stretches without spending meaningful time together, and it’s hard to cope with, especially when they’re within driving distance of you, but still inaccessible. You know, though, that a scarcity of time does not always mean a scarcity of attention. You’ve seen it in Ahrin and Hyunjin, in the Cartier necklace and the missing credit card, that Hyunjin thinks about Ahrin all the time, and Ahrin knows that he does, is thinking of him just as much if not more. She can languish in the thought that even if Hyunjin is not with her, he desperately wishes he was, and when she wears his necklaces and bracelets and $500 hair clips, Hyunjin knows she is also desperately thinking about him.

You and Seungmin don’t have a system like that. Seungmin isn’t in the habit of buying you expensive gifts, for starters. He’s frugal with his money, hyperaware that one day his youth and fame will fade, and he won’t have such extravagant income. You’re similarly pragmatic, and you’ve never resented him for this. And that’s not to say he never spends money on you. He buys you flowers and takes you on expensive dates. He bought you a new laptop and headphones without you saying anything, and your closet is full of fancy dresses that are each tied to a high class outing you’ve been on. For each one, he’d bought himself a shirt and jacket to match. But those aren’t things you wear every day to show off. They’re for special occasions, specific memories. There’s nothing you wear or carry daily that marks you as ‘his.’

And honestly, you’ve never really thought about yourself that way. You and Seungmin are together, and you live together (by whatever measure your living arrangements currently count as), but you’ve never longed to be “branded” in a way befitting a pair of earrings or an oversized sweater. You wear his clothes at home, but never out. You don’t feel the need to show up to his practices and recording sessions. You’ve never even asked if you were allowed. If Seungmin bought you a Cartier necklace, you aren’t totally sure you would wear it.

It hits you like a freight train when you put it all together: You don’t care enough about Seungmin. You’re comfortable with him, you feel like you love him, but you don’t care about him the way you’re supposed to care about him. You’re not involved enough. But then, the same goes for him too, doesn’t it? He knows what you do for work, but he rarely asks you about anything other than a cursory how was your day? He doesn’t pester you for anything, doesn’t ask you to visit him or stay up for him when he comes home late. Aren’t those things that he should expect from you as a girlfriend? Why doesn’t he care that you’re so obviously neglecting him? When he kisses you goodbye in the morning, is that because he misses you, or is that just a habit formed over these past months, a meaningless part of the morning ritual he couldn’t resist if he tried?

You feel caught in a lurch, unsure what to do now. Seungmin deserves better than you, clearly. He deserves a girlfriend who actually gives a fuck about his life. But maybe, if you start making up for it now, he’ll forgive the past few months of you being so terrible. He’ll realize that you are an attentive girlfriend, and that you do care about him and that you love him, and you can prove it, you swear, it took you a while to realize what was wrong but you’ve got it all straightened out now. 

You can change. You can fix this. You know you can.

-/-

The next time Seungmin comes home, you wake up first the next morning, like always. You go to put the coffee on, and you make breakfast, and you check your emails. Seungmin comes out, walks past you to his shoes and coat, and doubles back to get his morning coffee.

“Busy day today?” you ask.

Seungmin freezes in his movements, caught off guard by your question. He recovers quickly enough, and answers. “Not particularly. Vocal practice, some other things.”

“Oh, good. Do you think you’ll be home today then?”

Seungmin turns to face you, his cup abandoned on the counter, unfilled. “Is everything alright?”

“What?”

“Is something wrong? Do we need to talk?”

Oh god, it’s worse than you thought. Asking if he’s going to be home to eat dinner is enough for him to think something is amiss. Have you truly never asked him that before?

“Everything’s fine. It would just be nice to eat dinner with you, is all.”

Seungmin relaxes. He leans down to kiss you, but it lingers longer than normal, as if he’s savoring the touch, your attention. “I’ll do my best,” he promises. “I love you. Have a nice day.”

You absolutely blossom under his affection, the verbosity atypical for so early in the morning.

“I love you too. Be safe.”

“I always am,” he says, and presses another peck to your lips before pulling away. He finishes pouring his coffee, grabs his coat, and waves as he leaves. You sit at the table, vibrating with satisfaction. You’re doing it, you’re giving him what he needs. Maybe all hope isn’t lost for you two just yet.

Your sky-high mood follows you to work, and the day keeps getting better with the discovery of cupcakes in the break room. One of your coworkers’ kids just had a birthday, and they had way too much food left over. You take one back to your desk to nibble on while you work, and even the mundanity of your daily tasks can’t bring you down from how well this day is turning out. Around midmorning, it occurs to you that this is the perfect opportunity to do something else nice for Seungmin by bringing him cupcakes. They’re not filming, which means they’re not on diets, so he can handle a bit of sugar and frosting, especially if it’s a gift from you. You borrow a container from the staff kitchen to carry some cupcakes and decide to defer your own lunch to deliver them across the city.

When you get to the JYPE building, though, you realize you have no idea what to do. You’re fairly sure you’re allowed access; the other girlfriends pop in and out all the time. But it’s possible no one here recognizes you, since this is the first time you’ve shown your face around here.

Being spontaneous is cute and quirky, but standing around lost and embarrassed grows tiring within seconds. You give up and decide to text Seungmin.

Are you busy?, you send, standing awkwardly by the door and hoping security doesn’t throw you out. Thankfully, he responds quickly.

Not super. Do you need to call?

Actually I’m in the lobby of your building. Can you come down?

Typing, and then a pause. Then more typing. Eventually the message comes through.

Ok.

You can’t decode that at all. It strikes you for the first time that you may be bothering him by driving over here. You did ask if he was busy, though. And it stood to reason that if you had time for a 5-minute phone call, he had time to come downstairs and accept the gift you’d brought him. It isn’t intrusive. This is what people do for each other when they care about each other.

It only takes a few minutes for Seungmin to round the corner into the lobby. His face is creased in concern, even worse than he’d looked this morning, and he’s walking at a brisk pace to stand right in front of you.

“Hey,” he says. “What’s going on?”

You don’t know how to respond to his intensity, so you just hold out the container towards him. “I brought you cupcakes.”

Seungmin’s eyebrows furrow in utter confusion. “You…made cupcakes?”

“I didn’t make them. A coworker brought them in. But I remember you saying you liked cupcakes, and I had a free minute, so I thought I’d bring them over before they got finished.”

Seungmin accepts the box gingerly, as though it contains a nest of wild hornets, or lit sticks of dynamite. “You drove all the way over here to give this to me?”

Your doubts go from an inkling to a full-on tumult. “Yes, I did. I was just thinking of you…I thought you might like something sweet.”

You don’t mean to look dismayed, but Seungmin must clue-in to the fact that this isn’t the reaction you were hoping for. He shifts the box to one hand and laces your fingers together with his other.

“Thank you for thinking of me,” he says. “But you don’t need to go out of your way to bring me things.”

“It’s not out of my way. I had time.”

“Let me rephrase. You shouldn’t expend your lunch hour to bring me food. When are you going to eat now?”

“I’ll stay an extra half hour. It’s fine.”

Seungmin clearly isn’t satisfied with this. He tugs lightly on your arm, bidding you to follow, and you do, unsure of what else to do.

He takes you up a floor, and down a hallway to what seems to be a regular employee break room, where he gestures for you to sit down at one of the tables. You do, and he walks over to the fridge to get bottled water and brings back one for you, along with napkins and a knife from the drawer next to the fridge.

“If you aren’t going to eat lunch, you might as well share your spoils with me,” Seungmin says. He opens the container and takes out one of the cupcakes (and they are huge, to be honest, you kind of can’t believe they’re from a kid’s birthday party) and cuts it in half.

“Pick a side,” he says, and you do, and he carefully picks it up and lays it on a paper towel before sliding it towards you. He takes the other half, and you pick your desserts apart with your fingers. Seungmin tells an anecdote about Jeongin from their vocal lesson that morning. It’s…nice. You’re just spending time with your boyfriend, a quick stolen minute in the midst of your busy lives. The frosting is sickeningly sweet, and you find yourself reaching for the bottle of water without even thinking of it, and only later preen at the realization that Seungmin knew you would need to wash the artificial taste out and had brought you water preemptively. He knows you well enough to identify if something would suit your palette with only a glance.

Both of you don’t have much time to spare, so after fifteen minutes you wipe off your hands and clean off the table.

“I’ll bring the rest of these back upstairs,” he says. “They won’t last ten minutes once the others see them.”

“That’s fine. That’s what I was hoping for, actually.”

“And here I thought you brought these only for me,” he says, but his lips are curled up, teasing. He kisses you goodbye, like always, lips sugary-sweet and soft as cotton-candy. “Thank you for stopping by. I’ll see you tonight.”

Your heart grows three sizes. You’re on cloud nine. “Anytime,” you say.

That night you try very hard not to be an absolute freak about dinner. You cook nearly every day, so the cooking itself isn’t that special, but for some reason your usual rotation doesn’t feel good enough. Seungmin is coming home for the second day in a row, and you don’t want to reuse ingredients, or phone it in when you’d specifically asked him to come home. At the same time, a five-course meal is definitely doing way too much. You stop by the store on the way home and scan the shelves, before wrestling yourself into a compromise and getting ingredients for a meal you both enjoy, but you’re normally too lazy to bother after a long day at work. It’s nothing fancy, just time-consuming, but you’re in such high spirits that the labor doesn’t even feel harrowing.

Seungmin gets home a few minutes before you’re properly done, with the pot on the stove ticking down steadily as you wash dishes and spoons. Seungmin greets you as he walks in but vanishes quickly down the hall to shower and change into inside clothes. By the time he reappears, you’re all but done, and you’ve never been more satisfied with yourself as you dish the food into two bowls and set them on the table. Sure, maybe it’s “playing housewife” a little bit, but you don’t even care. If playing housewife is this rewarding, you might have to start doing it more often.

Seungmin raises his eyes as the dinner you prepared.

“Didn’t you complain that this is hard to make?” he asks. You shrug.

“Felt like cooking today,” is all you say. “No biggie.”

Seungmin sits down at the table, pushes his plate to the side, and looks directly at you. “Y/n. What’s going on?”

Anxiety shoots through you. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do. I’m not oblivious. You’ve been acting off all day.”

“Off?”

“Visiting me at the company? Cooking this fancy dinner? It’s not like you at all.”

“That’s not me being ‘off.’ I just missed you, that’s all.”

“Have I not been paying enough attention to you? Is that why?”

“No! I mean, you have. There is no ‘why’. Am I not allowed to miss my boyfriend?”

Seungmin looks distinctly unimpressed. “Nice try. Wanna go again?”

All your good humor from earlier is dissolving into your soup. “You’re mocking me.”

“I’m not mocking you.”

“I was trying to do something nice for you. I just wanted to spend time with you today. Is that so wrong?”

“It’s not wrong. It’s just unusual for you. When you told me you showed up at the company, I thought something horrible had happened, because you never visited me before.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

“What doesn’t?”

“That I never visit.”

“Why would that bother me?”

All your anxieties are simmering near the top, threatening to boil over. “Because the other members’ girlfriends visit all the time. I know they do. They have security clearance and everything. But I never do. I don’t even know where you are most days if I wanted to visit you.”

Seungmin frowns. “You’re busy. You have a job you’re at all day, same as me. Some of the other members’ girlfriends work less or have other things going on.”

“Maybe that’s the problem,” you mutter. “Maybe I have too much going on.”

Seungmin looks hesitant at this. “If you feel you need to cut back, I’ll support you.”

“Is that what you want? Do you think I should work less?”

“No, I don’t. That’s not my decision anyway.”

“But I just…” You’re cracking, you know you are, you can hear it in your voice- “I just want to be there for you more. I want to be attentive.”

“You are attentive. You’re there for me all the time.”

“I’m not!” It bursts out of you more violently than even you expected. Seungmin is taken aback, eyes widening as you finally break. “I’m so aloof towards you, it’s awful. I never know where you are, or what you’re doing. I never ask you to come home to me. I don’t stay up for you. I don’t visit you. Other girlfriends have bracelets or necklaces they wear for their boyfriends, and I don’t do any of that. No one would even know we were dating, based on how we are now.” You suck in a breath, reminding yourself to stay calm. “I just don’t even know what you get out of being with me. I don’t do anything I’m supposed to do, and you keep letting me get away with it. And I thought if I changed, and I started trying harder, maybe I could fix it before you realize that I don’t deserve you.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, humiliation and sadness making you feel dizzy and hot. Now that you’ve said it all out, it sounds ridiculous. It’s not as if you could fix a behavioral pattern with one good day. If your relationship really is rotten through, all you’ve done is draw attention to the problem and made it even worse. Contrasted with how you acted today, the past eleven months must seem downright hollow.

Seungmin sighs. “Y/n, look at me, please.”

You open your eyes and are horrified to see Seungmin looking absolutely mournful where he sits across the table. He looks so aggrieved, so weighed down, and a horrible rock forms in the pit of your stomach.

“First of all,” he says. “I don’t ever want to hear you say again that you don’t deserve me. It’s not true, and I won’t have you putting yourself down like that. You don’t decide what I deserve, I do. And I’ve decided you’re exactly what I want.”

You blink, confused at the turn of events. It’s a very Seungmin thing to say, yes, but in this situation, you didn’t expect him to double down on it so earnestly.

“Second of all, you’re not aloof towards me. I know you love me, and you care for me in your own ways. I also know you have a life outside of me that keeps you busy. I’m grateful for that. I would feel horrible if you spent a significant amount of your day just waiting around for me when we both know I can’t always be there.”

“That’s different,” you can’t help but interject. “You’re an idol. You can’t help that you’re busy.”

“You can’t help being busy either. Being an idol isn’t any more important than any other job. You have responsibilities too.”

You deflate, sagging in your chair. He takes this as license to continue.

“Third, I didn’t think you were the type to wear jewelry every day. If you want me to get you something, I can do that. I just didn’t want you to feel pressured to wear something just because I bought it and it was expensive. Someday, if we get married, you’ll wear my ring, and that’ll be enough for me.”

He’s right. You don’t usually wear jewelry every day, and you would feel bad about not wearing something he’d specifically bought you as a gift. You’re starting to feel more and more foolish as this conversation continues.

Thankfully, his itemized list ends there, and he leans forward, dark eyes fixed on yours. He doesn’t look angry, or upset, just focused. Leave it to Seungmin to mind-map his way through a relationship crisis.

“Can you tell me what brought this on? It’s unlike you to be insecure. If I’ve done something to make you think you’re not good enough for me, I’d like to know so that I can change my behavior.”

You let out a long breath, giving up the fight in the face of Seungmin’s rationality.

“I had lunch with Ahrin the other day. I was complaining about how you’re so busy these days, I rarely see you. Ahrin said you guys actually haven’t been that busy. It made me realize I don’t actually know your schedule, like what you do all day, much less outside of work. And I also realized part of the reason I haven’t seen you much is because I never ask to see you. You have no reason to spend time with me when it seems like I don’t even want you around.” Your voice trails off as you continue, shame sticking the words in your throat.

Seungmin hums, thinking. He lifts his hand up and stretches it toward you, your sign to extend your own hand so he can lace your fingers together. You oblige, and the contact settles you a bit.

“I have never thought for one second that you didn’t want me around. I don’t take offense to you not knowing my schedule either. I know I don’t talk about work much. It might be a flaw of mine.”

“Hyunjin is always playing these little games with Ahrin to get her to come see him. But I’ve always felt that you’d prefer I stay away when you’re working.”

Seungmin hesitates again. “That might be right. That’s not because I don’t love spending time with you, though. It’s the opposite.”

“I…don’t follow.”

“Whatever you believe, the other members’ partners don’t really come around all that much, but when they do come around, it’s not really a big event. They’re just spectators. Like when Ahrin visits us at practice, it’s easy for Hyunjin to pretend she’s not there and keep working. I couldn’t do that. If you were in the room with me, I don’t think I could be as focused as I normally am. I’d be distracted because all my attention would be on you and how you’re doing. That’s why I’ve never encouraged you to visit.”

A small hysterical part of you wants to twist his words somehow, to start a fight about him calling you a ‘distraction’ and all it implies, but you know what he meant. It’s a fairly big admission he’s given, that he couldn’t keep control of himself if you were in his eyeline. It’s…unexpectedly flattering.

“I fluster you that badly?” you ask, half-teasing, half-curious. But Seungmin answers you dead serious.

“Embarrassingly so. When I went back upstairs with the cupcakes, Minho-hyung didn’t give me a second to breathe before commenting on it.”

You find yourself grinning. “Really?”

“Don’t laugh at me. It’s unkind.”

“I’m not laughing,” you say, even though you definitely are. Seungmin rolls his eyes, but there’s no heat or embarrassment in them.

“You could at least be sorry about it.”

“I’m very sorry that I got you bullied by your bandmates,” you say dutifully. “I promise I will do my best not to place you in such a compromising position again.”

“You can visit me if you want,” Seungmin rebuffs. “I can take a little teasing if you really want to see me. My point is just that you shouldn’t feel like you have to because the other girlfriends do.”

“Okay.” You nod, then venture out into the part of the conversation you’ve been avoiding. “If that’s all true, why do you stay away so often? It’s okay if you just have other things to do, but why do you let me think you’re at work if you aren’t?”

You aren’t sure what he’s going to say to this. You believe in his loyalty, always, and you don’t think he truly intended to lie to you, but you still can’t figure out who’s to blame here, and how this miscommunication has persisted between you for so long.

To your surprise, Seungmin’s ears flare red. His grip tightens on your hand, like he’s fighting himself, but you can tell he answers you honestly when he says,

“I was worried I was imposing on you.”

You blink. “Imposing?”

Seungmin is no longer meeting your eyes, his gaze lowered to the table. “Like I said, I don’t want you to constantly be waiting around for me. I don’t want you to get used to having me around, and then when I go on tour, or get busy with activities, you feel my absence stronger. Then, when I come back, I become an inconvenience as you try to fit me into your life again. It’s hard, and it’s unfair. I thought it would be easier to try to keep the same level of involvement all the time, so that you didn’t miss me too badly when I was gone, and I didn’t annoy you too much when I came back.”

You hardly let him finish his sentence before you say, “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. You keep your attention from me so that I won’t miss you later? How does that make any sense? I miss you regardless. That’s the point of being in a relationship.”

Seungmin winces, and you decide to dial back your indignance. He’d spoken to you evenly, and you could do the same for him.

“Sorry. I just meant that you shouldn’t keep yourself away from me in an effort to spare my feelings. I know what I signed up for when we started dating. I know some times will be easier than others. I appreciate your efforts to mitigate that, but this isn’t the way. You being gone so often is all the more reason to be overt and intense when we do have time together. It’s fine to not want to spend all your free time with me, but don’t ever think wanting to be around me is imposing, or hurting me in some way, because it’s not.”

Seungmin looks properly chastised. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll be around more.”

“And I’ll ask for you more. We both need to stop holding ourselves and each other back.” You let out a little laugh. “We’re acting like it’s embarrassing to be in love or something.”

“Hyunjin said the same thing to me once.”

“Hyunjin is smart in exactly one area,” you acquiesce. “Ahrin is a lucky girl.”

“Comparison is the thief of joy,” Seungmin mutters. You lean forward over your cold dinner and press a kiss to Seungmin’s cheek.

“I didn’t say she was luckier than me.”

You both grin.

-/-

Next week, Monday. You wake up at your usual time, put on coffee, make breakfast. You clear your entire inbox because fuck the sales department, they can say whatever they need to say in the meeting this afternoon. You set your phone down and enjoy the warmth of the tea you brewed and watch the sun come up outside your living room window.

Seungmin gets up, gets his shoes and coat, and doubles back around.

“Good morning,” you say.

“Good morning.”

“Busy day?”

“Nope. I’m free after lunch.”

“Lucky. I have an awful meeting from two to four.”

“You’ll do fine,” Seungmin says. “Sales isn’t the boss of you.”

“They actually are,” you groan, and Seungmin laughs at your dismay. He kisses you goodbye, tells you to be safe. You tell him you love him. The front door opens and closes.

At around 1pm, your phone buzzes with a text.

Are you busy?

Eh. Why?

I’m in your lobby.

No way.

You grab your security pass and head towards the elevators, watching every floor tick down until it lets you out on the ground floor. Seungmin is sitting in a chair in reception, holding a white cardboard box. When he sees you approach him, he grins and holds it up.

“Got time for cupcakes?”

Your smile is so wide it’s splitting your face in half. “Follow me. The break room is on the fourth floor.”

-/-

“I didn’t even know you knew what building I work in.”

“I looked it up on NAVER.”

“Of course you did.”

You'd been at the kitchen counter cooking dinner for the last half hour or so when Chris walked in the apartment door, sliding out of his shoes and immediately bee-lining to you. He lets his arms slink around your waist and clings to you from behind, burying his nose down against your shoulder. "What'cha making?" He peeps, peeking up at the boiling water.

"Pasta," you hum. "It's a recipe my mom gave me a while back and I wanted to try and make it perfect like she does. It might be a little spicy though, so I left out the chili flakes."

Chris sighs out and you think at first it's because he's upset it may be spicy - and he can't tolerate spice. But then you feel him smiling against the fabric of your sweater, his hands smoothing down your stomach and digging under the hem of your clothing to feel over the warmth of your bare skin instead. "I love you," he coos. "You're perfect to me, you know that? You know me so well and take care of me so good."

His sentiment makes you giggle, the bounce of your shoulders making his head bob lightly. Chris peeks up to you instead this time, eyes wandering your side profile in curiosity of your next reaction. "I'm going to marry you someday."

"Marry me?" You coo, cocking a brow and smiling to yourself. "You're sure you want to sign that contract, Christopher?"

"Course I'm sure. Marrying you will be the best decision of my life." He coos in return, burying his face back in your shoulder and snuggling closer from behind.

"Better than signing with the company?"

"Way better than signing with the company."

"You're going to get sick!" Chris calls as he follows you outside, dragged by your grip on his hoodie sleeve. He skids to a stop on the sidewalk and you come to a halt as well. Turning to face him, you bounce in your spot before hopping a few times in excitement.

"It's the first thunderstorm of the Summer, Chris! We have to celebrate!"

Celebrating a storm seemed odd to him - but if it would make you happy, he'd yell out his excitement to the world. He smiles at your giddy antics and reaches to hold both of your hands as you bounce around, laughing and smiling and shining like the Sun that refused to peer through the clouds; Though it wasn't as if Chris needed the Sun when he had you around. "You're so cute..." He murmurs, the sentence more for himself than for your ears.

You pause after a moment and turn, pressing up onto your toes to lean in. The kiss has Chris a little caught off guard, but he's happy to smile into it and wrap his arms around your waist to keep you close. He feels your hand escape from him and lift, tugging off the beanie he wore in favor of getting his hair wet as well.

The carefully styled and straightening brunet locks begin to damen, soon returning to their natural state of sopping wet curls that hang down his forehead and just above his eyes. He knows you like it this way - like his hair curly and natural instead of heat damaged - so he let it happen. For your happiness, of course.

His hands found their way to your face, cupping over your pink cheeks that were cold to the touch. He can feel your lips curling into a smile against his and as you pull away, drenched in the pouring rain and blinking water out of your eyes, he thinks to himself - he's never seen a more beautiful sight in his life.

"Baby...?"

"... Baby.....?"

Chris has to blink something wet and sticky out of his eyes, reaching up with shaking hands to wipe his face and finally peek up at the damage.

He was just sitting at a red light. Sitting there, tapping his phone screen on the dashboard as he waited for the light to change and trying to figure out where to stop for food as he added a detour to the GPS. You'd been sitting in the passenger seat beside him on your phone, changing a song on Spotify which caused the car to go silent for a moment - cause the crash to be louder.

It had echoed through his ears. The sound of glass shattering on impact, metal crunching under the weight of the car that had slammed into the front of his SUV and the sound of your brief scream in fear. Then it was silence - a painfully high-pitched ringing filling his ears as he came to under the debris.

When he looked down, he was looking up. With his body pinned to the seat and the seatbelt holding him in place, locked, he was kept tight to the drivers seat and his weight hanging briefly off the leather as he dangled upside down. He took a moment to feel over the steering wheel - gauging that the SUV was upside down - before his head jerked to the side to look for you.

The entire passenger side of the car was caved in.

There was little to no room between the dashboard and the back of the passenger seat; and your body wasn't present. Chris jerks into action to find you, yelling out immediately and fumbling to fight his seatbelt. The button clicks and his body jerks to the roof of the car, dropping his weight and making him groan in pain. He no doubt had a few broken bones - but it was nothing he couldn't care less about. With the adrenaline running through his veins all he cared about was finding you.

And through the sliver of the busted out window on the passenger side he could see your face.

Your cold, pale face staring back at him; Eyes lidded, lips parted and purple. He didn't even pay attention to the red liquid smeared over your face, dripping from your nose and ears. He could see you peering back at him as he crawled towards your side of the car, gasping for breath and reaching for you. With your hand extended towards him, he reached to touch your fingertips with his own - get as close to you as he could. And he held your cold, lifeless hand the entire time the paramedics rushed to the aid of both the two of you and the person in the other car.

menace!seungmin who was definitely your friend before becoming your boyfriend.

menace!seungmin who suddenly yells "boo!" and grabs your shoulders to scare you during the quietest scene of a horror movie. if you screamed, he would laugh his heart out and you promise yourself to never watch a horror movie with him ever again.

menace!seungmin who would definitely act the silliest while you're drinking water to purposefully make you laugh while your mouth is FULL and dodge when you spray it out of your mouth and nose

menace!seungmin who brings food to your mouth like a gentlemen but then shoves it into his own mouth

menace!seungmin who throws a snowball at you in the winter and has it go down your back. but then on that same evening, he would hug you in bed with the heat of his body warming you up as if he didn't just freeze your butt off earlier.

menace!seungmin who refuses to ask you directly when he wants to see you so he "forgets" stuff at your house so he can go over to get it

menace!seungmin who walks in on you in the bathroom and starts a casual conversation like you aren't sitting on the toilet.

menace!seungmin who will never make a normal entrance whenever you've got a date planned. he told you to meet him in front of the movie theatre? he'll jump out of the corner to surprise attack you when you're there. he told you he'd pick you up? he's hiding beside the door when you open it, waiting to jump at you. if you dated him in high school, he'd definitely be the type of guy to cover your eyes and say "guess who?"

when you two are at dinner alone or with a group of people like your family, menace!seungmin will always put his foot on yours under the table and not let you go

menace!seungmin who will flick his wet hands at you while walking out of the bathroom to annoy you and he got you to do it to him every time as well

menace!seungmin who has you becoming a mini-version of him. you'd adopt his vocabulary and attitude so you joke about how he's being a bad influence on you.

menace!seungmin who is obsessed with kissing your hands. if you have your hand in his, he'll bring it up to his lips with any chance he gets. before crossing the road, waiting for the street food to be ready, going up in the elevator, you name it. sometimes if he's feeling silly he'll bite your hand while he's at it.

menace!seungmin who can't look into your eyes for too long or else he'll fold so he always ruffles your hair or gently pushes your head away if he ever feels like the eye contact is becoming too much. you don't know this so you just assume he likes to make your hair messy like the bitch he is.

menace!seungmin who's love language is being annoying but if he ever catches anyone else doing it to you, he'll fight their ass

“Seungminnie, don’t you ever get tired of showing up to dinner alone?” his mother laments over the yukgaejang, while Seungmin stares blankly at her, unable to comprehend her question. What did she mean, alone? The whole point of family dinners was so he wouldn’t have to resort to eating ramen in the dim light of his own apartment, or risk begging Minho for home-cooked food, fearing the smirk on his older roommate’s face.

As if on cue, the doorbell sounds, and Seungmin is the first one up, spoon clattering on the table and stew abandoned. Within a few strides, he’s swinging the door open, only to be met with burning in his nose and scratching in his throat, the tell-tale signs of a sneeze making themselves known.

Your face peeks out from behind the flowers, flustered and eyes growing wide with concern.

“Damn it, I thought you wouldn’t be allergic to these ones,” you whine, and Seungmin sniffles, ushering you inside. “Sometimes I think you’re faking it, Minnie.”

“___!” his mother runs to the door at the sound of your voice, nearly smushing the bouquet as she wraps you in the biggest hug. “We haven’t seen you in so long, I made extra yukgaejang, come!”

And as she leads you by the hand into the dining room, Seungmin hangs back, a smug smile on his face. The universe had his back, once again.

The dinner table conversation turns lively once again, his parents and sister pestering you with updates about your life in the city, like you and Seungmin aren’t still attached at the hip like you were when you were children.

There’s a lull in the conversation, silence falling over the table with only the clanging of utensils to fill the void, broken only by a heavy sigh. Seungmin knows what’s coming next, and so do you, judging by the way you sink into your seat.

“I always thought the two of you would end up together,” his mother blurts out, tears forming in her eyes.

You pat her on the back, dancing around her confession, telling her you’ll always be ready to show up uninvited to dinner as long as there’s an extra bowl of yukgaejang waiting, and all Seungmin can do is stare into his bowl.

No matter how many times he reminded her that you were just friends, that the realistic probability of you and Seungmin dating moved closer and closer to zero the older you grew, she stubbornly refused to give up hope. 

She’d throw it back in his face, repeating his favourite phrase. “Not yet.”

And Seungmin couldn’t tell her maybe some things were just meant to never come to life. 

The two of you walk back towards your apartments in silence, your shadows dancing on the sidewalk, creating a far livelier scene than the comfortable silence that exists between you.

Seungmin doesn’t notice you’ve fallen behind until he’s at least ten paces ahead of you, turning back to see your lonely figure under a streetlight, staring up at the stars. He resists the normal impulse in his brain to leave you behind, knowing you’ll catch up, and instead backtracks, stopping to stand next you.

“Do you really think it’d be so bad?” you ask the darkness, not turning to meet Seungmin’s eyes. “If we were to actually date?”

Seungmin’s mind is sent reeling at your confession, the neat box in which he’d compartmentalized your relationship suddenly bursting open, exploding with chaos.

“We’re getting older, Minnie,” you ponder. “Don’t you ever feel like you’re running out of time?”

Seungmin’s face darkens, and he knows he can’t answer the question without hurting your feelings. Because to him, time was never something he’d run out of. If he fucked something up, there’d always be something new, something better waiting for him on the horizon.

“You shouldn’t think like this, ____,” he breathes out. “You just haven’t found the right person yet.”

The two of you are sitting on the sidewalk now, long legs hanging off the curb. Seungmin instinctively pulls you into his side, making sure your body is shielded from any stray passerby that happen to be inhabiting the sidewalk or the wild people in the bike lane. 

“It’s always yet, Seungmin, but what about now? What are we doing with our lives?”

Seungmin’s never thought about now. He’s thought about the past, like the time he showed up to your house on your 16th birthday, a copy of your favourite novel clutched behind his back. Only to go ungifted when you’d barreled into his arms, raving over the used car your parents had gotten. He’d thought a lot about the future, the two of you going on to end up with faceless partners, settling down in houses whose walls he couldn’t picture, kids whose names he hadn’t thought out, maybe a dog or a cat. 

But he never stopped to think about the present, and looking into your eyes, he remembers exactly why. It terrified him, the faint glistening of tears, the way your breathing sped up, your fists clenching and unclenching. And he’d never had good advice to give, just always ranting on about how “tomorrow is a new day.”

Seungmin bows his head, long strands of hair falling into his face, hopes you don’t see the way his own lip quivers when he thinks about right now, the two of you sitting on a city sidewalk, together but still lonely.

“Okay,” he manages to choke out, and your head whips around in shock.

“What do you mean, okay?” you sniffle, and Seungmin pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Let’s do it. Let’s try dating.”

He feels your body go still next to him, arm going limp when you suddenly decide to let go, hoisting yourself up.

“Minnie, I was just kidding when I said that. You don’t have to date me if you don’t want to.”

“Who said I didn’t want to? I mean try, at least?” Seungmin rises up to his feet, heart thundering at the blank look on your face. “If we try and it doesn’t work, there’s always another chance, right?”

Your face twists in a strange expression, so brief Seungmin could have almost imagined it, before you let out a dazzling smile, one Seungmin thinks rivals even the brightest star he sees in the sky tonight.

“Right.”

“You’re actually fucking insane,” Minho mumbles through a mouth stuffed full with dumplings, stealing the container away when Seungmin reaches over with his chopsticks. “I shouldn’t be offering you food, I should be signing you up for therapy.

“Everybody always wants ____ and I to end up together,” Seungmin grumbles, snatching a dumpling anyway, much to Minho’s dismay. “Now that we actually decide to date, it’s suddenly a problem?”

“Dating isn’t some science experiment, okay!” Minho grows flustered, the tips of his ears turning red. “It involves real people, and real feelings! Have you even asked ____ if they’re okay with this?”

You were fine, Seungmin convinced himself.  In fact you’d been exceedingly chipper, brighter than usual, chatting about anything and everything under the sun. It gave Seungmin confidence that maybe this could work. That maybe things didn’t have to change between you two, because maybe you’d been right for each other all along and he’d just missed it.

His phone vibrates with a text from you, and Seungmin is shoving the last dumpling in his mouth, ignoring Minho’s disapproving look as he throws his coat over his shoulders, bounding down the stairs to meet you outside his apartment.

“Want to go to a coffee shop—” the air is knocked out of your lungs when Seungmin crushes you in a hug, your fists banging on his back to let you go ten seconds later. Your face is flushed, an eyebrow raised in confusion, and Seungmin thinks you’ve never looked prettier.

“Isn’t that what couples do when they see each other?” Seungmin asks innocently, only to be met with a sigh.

“You’re paying for my coffee today,” you grumble. 

Dating you is easier than Seungmin imagined — the years of friendship provided enough experience in how to spend time together, but now he gets to tell everyone that you’re together together. He thinks his mother’s joyful scream nearly splits his eardrums the moment she finds out, rushing to the phone to dial up your own mother. The conversation between them lasts a good hour and a half, and a smile pricks at Seungmin’s lips at the pride in her voice.

He gets to catch you off guard by randomly deciding to pay for your smoothie, or to wrap an arm lazily around your waist when you’re talking to someone, the subtle squeak in your voice sending his heart aflutter.

Dating you is everything Seungmin could have imagined and more, because those infinite moments he’d always thought about, are moments spent making you laugh at his deadpan jokes, moments spent clinging to your back, begging you to make him some food since Minho stubbornly refuses to, and he thinks there’s no way he could mess this up.

Until he kisses you. The two of you are cuddled up on the couch, the soft soundtrack of the film you’d chosen together lulling Seungmin to sleep in your lap, his eyes heavy-lidded. It’s when your leg shifts that Seungmin wakes up, sleepy eyes blinking up at you, only to realize your hand is resting against his cheek, thumb softly stroking his skin. He wonders if the stars in your eyes are from the reflection of the movie on the screen, or whether they mirror the ones in his own. 

Seungmin moves without thinking, his forehead collapsing against your own, and he feels your surprised gasp against his cheek before his lips are brushing against yours softly. Warmth blooms where your fingertips still rest on his cheek, lighting up his entire body with an unspoken feeling. 

He breaks away from you, still holding you close, but the smile that grazes his lips is gone as soon as it appeared, your downcast face in front of him. Seungmin waits one second, then two, then a whole minute, but it feels like an infinity while he wills you to meet his eyes.

“I can’t do this Minnie,” you finally whisper, your voice bubbling and breaking, a lone tear streaming down your face.

“I don’t understand,” the words feel heavy on Seungmin’s tongue, like he’s numb and struggling to get them out. It was just one moment, there’d be another that followed, but how could everything have gone wrong?

“I can’t keep pretending like this doesn’t mean something to me,” you finally let go of his hoodie, and Seungmin felt the cold he hadn’t noticed before seep in. “To you, this is all infinite, like it’s always been. There’s always a yet, because every moment is temporary. It’s meaningless when you have tomorrow to worry about, right? Wondering where we’ll go on our next date or what random thing you’ll do next to knock the breath out of me?”

“But this,” you continue. “Right here, right now, it isn’t just something to me. It’s everything. It’s everything because I love you and because I’ve always loved you and because you’ve never been able to see that in your infinity, there has to be some kind of beginning and end. And you’re it for me. But I’ll never be enough for you.”

Seungmin wants to tell you you’re wrong, that he’s stopped thinking about infinity and mere moments, because he realized the same thing, that he never started actually paying attention to time until he met you, and you injected all the moments of his life with meaning. But the words that come out instead are wrong, so wrong.

“You’ll get another chance,” he watches you flinch at his words, rushing to slip on your shoes. You linger at the door, hand twisting around the doorknob. “You just haven’t met the right person yet.”

The knob clicks, and the door slams. And Seungmin is left alone, in the vast abyss of his infinity once more.

Minho spares him the lecture, and Seungmin is grateful. He doesn’t need to hear the “I told you so”, doesn’t need to face his mother’s concerned face when she asks why you haven’t been coming by lately. The loneliness cuts into him like a knife, and he wonders if the imaginary future he’d dreamed of all his life would be enough to take the pain of right now away.

The weather grows colder, and Seungmin’s heart freezes along with it. Time stretches out before him as he looks at his phone, waiting for a call or a text, teasing him, threatening him, as if to say - don’t you wish you had enough?

He spends his days staring out the window, watching the world pass by around him, realizing he’s tired of moving alongside it without you by his side. And then the snow begins to fall, a few flakes to start out, until it turns into a sea of white, and he can’t even see outside anymore.

The door clicks softly behind him, Minho’s voice echoing behind him while he stomps the snow from his boots.

“It’s really coming down out there,” Minho pauses, his voice clipped. “I saw ____ at the grocery store just now.”

Seungmin’s head whips around at the mention of you, but Minho, ever the menace, keeps his mouth shut, not knowing whether the next sentence that leaves his mouth will send Seungmin spiralling or not.

It’s silent between them for a few moments, Minho putting away his food in the kitchen cupboard, while Seungmin runs through endless scenarios in his head about whether you’re happy or sad, whether you’re doing fine or falling apart, whether leaving tore your heart in pieces as much as it did his.

And that’s when he spots it, tucked between the cushions of the couch. Your scarf, blue patterned and worn. You must have left it the last time you were here.

Seungmin knows that rationally, you’d probably have a backup scarf. Knows that rationally, with how much he’d chewed your head off about the future, that you’d have planned ahead.

But you’d never been the rational one.

Minho jumps in surprise when Seungmin leaps to his feet, yanking the scarf out from the couch.

“It’s cold outside,” Seungmin breathes out, and Minho raises an eyebrow. “Right now. Right now it’s cold outside, and ___ left their scarf here, and they, and I– shit!”

He’s running out the door before Minho can stop him, your scarf against his chest like it’s a lifeline.

. . . 

He sees you just outside the grocery store, struggling with the heavy load of groceries you’d bought for the storm. The tiny shiver that rakes down your spine is enough to send him running your way.

“Seungmin?” you call out to him in shock, seeing his frantic figure bound towards you in the snow.

“Your scarf,” he heaves, shoving the crumpled fabric into your hands. “You left your scarf.”

“Minnie,” you can’t help the nickname that slips out. “It’s okay, I have another one for next time–”

“This isn’t about next time,” Seungmin interrupts you, wrapping his arms around you, not caring that you drop your bags into the snow. “This is about right now. And right now it’s snowing.”

“Yeah,” your breath comes out in a fog. “It is.”

“And right now,” Seungmin’s voice cracks, unshed tears filling his eyes. “Right now I love you. I think I probably always have and I probably always will, but that doesn’t matter. You’re my past, you’ll be my future, and I hope you’ll be mine, right now in this moment.”

“What about not yet? The infinite possibilities of the universe?” You whisper, clutching his coat while he wraps the scarf around you.

“The universe is infinite because you’re at the center of it - an infinite number of ways to make you smile, to be whatever you need, to tell you I love you. You’re the beginning and the end, and everything in between.”

Your lips are crashing onto his, mouths colliding messily through the veil of your tears, and Seungmin never wants to let go. When you break apart, it’s to lay your head on his chest.

“Come home with me,” he whispers into your hair. “Let me make you some tea.”

You shake your head, burrowing into Seungmin’s neck, humming your response.

“Not yet.”

25th of March 

The camcorder starts to whir alive for the first time, much to Seungmin’s delight. It’s quite big and sturdy and he struggles to hold it a bit from its awkward grip adjusting his fingers from time to time, yet he is very proud of his purchase–you could see it on his face. The lens of the device sits in front of a cake which is right behind it is you, gleaming in excitement at the curiously situated camera.  

You both don’t know it yet for Seungmin is still figuring out how to control the camcorder but it’s recording with the lens still unfocused.  

“Minnie... are you sure you actually know how to use that. You look like you’re struggling.”  

Seungmin scoffs at your comment but doesn’t say anything. The pads of his fingers play around with the various buttons and his brows furrow to your amusement and impatience. The candles are starting to drip onto the light-blue icing. 

“We could do it later y’kno–” 

“Oh, I got it!” Your husband cheers and suddenly the camera is pointed at you, running quite well in its glory. You smile cheeses at the lens and your husband tries to zoom in and out of your face, softly chuckling when you stick your tongue out at him.

He would say more, but you told him to play nice today since it was your first anniversary with each other and that he wouldn’t have married you if not for this day. He decides to comply with a small grumble.  

“Can I blow out the candles now?” You ask but before he can say yes, you do it anyway, laughing loudly at his expression, which is contorted into a faux annoyance.  

“Why would you ask, just to do it anyway?” He zooms into the cake with a little smile. He got the cake along with the camera just hours before as a surprise for you.  

You shrug, your voice becoming a little muffled through the audio. “Aren’t you gonna sing us a happy anniversary song?”  

“No.” 

But his actions defy his words as he carefully sets the camcorder down in a position where it could still capture the both of you as he rounds the table towards you. He takes a small swipe at the cake to smear your nose when he sits down next to you, but you do nothing in retaliation.

You just grin and lean a bit closer and that’s when he finally sings to you, and you start to fluster underneath his gaze. It’s loving and deep when his hands trail to your jaw and cup your face. He kisses your cheeks.  

“Happy anniversary lovely.”  

11th of April 

“Seungmin, look over here!”  

The passing wind whips your husband’s hair into his face as he tries to face you with a broad smile. You laugh at his misery as the camera subtly shakes in your hold, trembling at the skittering steps you take to meet a huffing Seungmin.  

The sun glares at the ground as people ranging from young to old scattered the small park on its threshold. The camcorder picks up the jovial energy through the recording and you’re satisfied with the clarity of it all. But your partner isn’t too ideal with your whole attention on this mere device. 

“Just marry the camera at this point. You look like you’re about to kiss it.” 

“Oh hush.”  

You roll your eyes and switch the camera over to face it towards you both. You’re squinting into the lens, but Seungmin looks down at you, pressing a softening smooch to your hair, just before he grabs the camcorder out of your hands. 

“Wait–give it back!”  

The sky is a bright blue, and it practically blinds the glass especially at the way that Seungmin points the camera up.  

“No way! We’re on a date! Your eyes should be on me. On your husband.”  

You snort but ultimately give up your fruitless attempts, knowing him very well enough that he wasn’t going to succumb to your requests with the mind that he was indeed right in his reasoning. You instead punch him in the gut, which he hunches over for in pain before you sit down on the picnic blanket laid out on the ground.

He follows soon after and the grass folds underneath the camera’s weight–just a bit out of reach from your fingertips, pushing it away just slightly when you make a lunge for it.  

Seungmin smiles smugly at your expense.  

“You’re so mean to me,” You whine pulling your hand away from his sneaky fingers, but his reflexes are faster (or rather you were just slower of purpose), but he catches your arm and intertwines your pinkie with his. It catches you warm and tingly inside at his affection, yet you refuse to show him that in the amidst of your (fake) vexation.  

Seungmin knows truly that you’re acting inside and so he lets himself open the small picnic basket he prepared for both of you and serves himself a sandwich...a sandwich that was supposed to be for you.  

“Wow, this looks so good right now. Maybe I’ll eat this one today.” Seungmin brings the food up to his lips, just hovering over his teeth with a smile that grows even bigger when you don’t even spare him a glance. You instead choose to stare at his own meal that he packed for himself. When you see him take a small nibble from the corner of your eye, you let a disheartened sigh leave your lips.  

You don’t see it immediately, but the man clicks his tongue and nudges himself a little closer to you, holding the sandwich up to your mouth now. You bite the inside of your cheeks to stop yourself from giggling at his antics. He’s cute–really and every moment you spend with him, you’re reminded why you decided to marry him. Your fingers seem to clutch your hands a little tighter, overwhelmed with the amount of love that thrives through your veins.  

“C’mon, I was just joking. Take a bite, I worked so hard on this!”  

“Hmmm fine. If only you buy me ice cream later.” 

He rolls his eyes but nonetheless agrees with your deal and with that, you take a bite out of the bread, taking it out of his hands with a meek chuckle. You find his beam that follows gorgeous.  

The silence that consumes the area is peaceful and serene, yet you're soaking in the pure warmth that your lover radiates. The trees that provide the shade sway back and forth and the distinct laughter of children from a nearby pair of swings entrances your attention.  

You’re stunning like this–Seungmin knows, has known for the first time he’d ever met you. But he’s still taken aback every single time, with a great surprise. The ring on your finger glimmers in his eyes. 

“We need to start packing to go to your parent’s house on Sunday.” Seungmin groans taking the empty plastic plate away from you and replacing it with a small bowl of strawberries. You gratefully take them but your face cocks to the side with confusion. 

“We’re going...to my parent’s house?”  

Seungmin snorts, “Yeah stupid. It was your idea remember.” He pauses for a second and then continues, “Or actually my idea because I’m such a great son-in-law.” 

“Yeah right. You argued with my dad over which baseball team was better. You really hurt his feelings that night.” You snort, slapping his arm.  

“Because it was a serious matter!” 

“Of course. I could never doubt you, Minnie.”  

He manages to shove the red fruit down your mouth to shut you up. 

29th of April 

“Say hi.” 

You roll your eyes and focus once more on the stack of papers on your desk. But you certainly don’t ignore his chuckles, a soft grin blooming on your face when he suddenly slams his hands on the documents. 

“Minnie don’t disturb me. I need to submit this by tomorrow.” 

“Why what happened?” He questions, looking closely at the random words that litter the page before he deems it too incomprehensible for his understanding. When you grumble, he innocently smiles at you.  

“I accidentally arrived at the meeting a little too late...and mixed up some of the forms, and you know how Mr. Cheong is.” You ruffle your hair in your hands in exasperation. “He got pissed and decided to punish me for my ‘unresponsible behavior!’. Can you believe that?!”  

Seungmin nods solemnly before he takes what he’s sure is the third cup of coffee that night. “Well, he’s an asshole...but I’ll leave you to it, I guess. Have fun!”  

You groan. “Seungminnn!”  

1st of June 

The loud humming of a commercial is loud in the background, but Seungmin pays no mind to it, not when his loud chuckling overpowers it with you standing in front of him in a grimace. You’re sporting an apron that’s covered in a multitude of stains that you reject to get rid of simply because it is one of Seungmin’s first gifts to you after he found out about your dear fondness to cook.  

Yet that sentiment to the pots and pans has brought you down for the first time in a while and you’re severely disappointed, to say the least. At least Seungmin’s having his fun and he’s talking to the camera as he’s at it, showing the lens the failed stew. 

“You don’t have to be recording this...” You say, glaring at the bowl in front of him. He shrugs his shoulders and says, “It’s one in a chance lifetime moment.” 

You’re not sure if you are offended or moved by his comment. 

“Seriously, I don’t know what I did wrong! I swear I did exactly what I usually do!’ You stress, going back to where all the spices lay near the stove, checking every single one of them. Seungmin who usually expressed his delight for your food, scrunched his nose right as the spoon touched his tongue, pushing you into a mess. 

“Lovely, which container did you use for salt?” He asks, looking over your shoulder, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek to calm you down a bit. It helps a little, and you answer his question by picking up a fairly large pink container that was filled with salt. Or so you thought. 

“That’s...the sugar box. That’s why it was so sweet.” He takes the container out from your hands as you furrow your eyebrows, sighing deeply at your idiotic mistake. 

“Has it always been that box?” You weakly ask. You feel his nod and your lips tremble before you awkwardly squirm out of his grasp. As of recently, work has been cutting off your sleep and you find yourself more muddled than ever. You plan to call off work for the next two days and get your well-deserved rest. 

But right now, you need to find the spoons and taste the stew yourself–except you forgot where they’ve gone! 

“Where did we put the utensils again?!” You cry, frustration ripping you apart.  

“Hey, hey, calm down a little. It’s gonna be okay.” Grabbing your hand, he bends down and kisses you softly against the counter, slowly wiping away the tears that roll down your face. You can’t help but feel horrible though. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I–I just messed up dinner and–” 

Seungmin kisses you again and softly hugs you against his chest where you melt. His fingers thread through your hair and you can’t help releasing another choked sob. Everything has been so stressful recently and it feels nice in his arms. 

“And it’s not the end of the world, is it? We can still order something nice. How does pizza sound for tonight?”   

15th of June 

“Where are we at Mrs. Kim?” Seungmin queries, zooming into your face as you swat your hand at him. Your cheeks redden when a couple of onlookers shoot their gazes your way, but you sigh and stare up at your husband.  

“In the parking lot. Of a hospital.”  

“Because why?”  

You give him a look. “Because I haven’t been taking care of myself and got sick.” 

He nods and pinches your cheek. He supposes that you both look odd with a big camera in his hands, but he doesn’t find it in himself to care. He rather would watch these old videos with his future family with you, laughing at all the stupidity.  

“Minnie I’m not even that sick though–really! Maybe you’re overreacting a little.”  

“I’m not going to listen to a physically ill person.” He sings.  

You cross your arms and look away in annoyance. Sometimes your fingers itched to wrap around his throat to strangle him, and that tingle was very apparent now as his arms brushed alongside yours. 

“And that physically ill person is also your wife, who knows her body better than you do. You know this will just be another unnecessary bill added to our insurance.” 

“Yep. And I don’t care.... 'cause we’re already here. Say bye to our baby.” He lets you take the camera for now as you raise eyebrows at his claims, softly chuckling to yourself about his ridiculousness.  

“Our baby? Really?”  

He nods. “Yeah of course. Now say bye, and we’ll see him later after the appointment.”  

“Wait. Why is it a bo–” 

The damned camera now focuses on a small bird in her nest before it flips back to Seungmin’s face. 

“Alright, we’re back baby. Do you wanna tell our daughter how the meeting with the doctor went.” Seungmin coos at you to rile you up. And it works well because you’re especially snappy today when you twist the skin of his waist, making him yelp in pain. 

“Horrible. They took my blood. And Kim Seungmin, if you make me anymore angry than I am right now, I swear to fucking god, I will snap your head in half.”  

“Yikes we can’t have that now, can we?” He shakes his head and before he can get another word out, you (softly) slam the camcorder shut. 

19th of June 

“Hellooo! We are playing Uno and our dear Seungmin is biting the curb. He fucking sucks at the game!” Felix exclaims into the camera, his endearing freckles up close and personal to the camera. He pulls out his own cards and shows them secretly to Lens–his deck consisting of three two-pluses and two other random cards of blue and yellow.

He has the least number of cards out of the whole group playing and it’s evidently shown when he turns his hands around. And just as he said, Seungmin truly is horrible because he now holds what looks like half of the deck in his hands.  

Right next to him is you though who thought that it would be better not to play as you started to mess up whatever the hell you were doing with your cards. You blamed it on the influx of alcohol in your system as to why you were acting so dozy.  

“I’m so sorry Seungmin. But this is the only card I have!” Jisung apologizes (though you could all tell he definitely wasn’t feeling sorry) and proceeds to place a four plus in the growing stack of discard. It’s funny to see the man rage. 

“Fuck you.” He seethes but nevertheless succumbs to his defeat grabbing another four cards to add to between his fingers which causes a robust found of laughter from your group, Chan practically turning red at the face from the amusement. Minho laughs softly then turns towards you and offers another drink that you refuse with shaking hands and a gentle smile, pressing a kiss to your husband’s shoulder when he releases another fit of anger. His friends were certainly not playing nicely tonight. But it’s all fun and loud.  

“Hey guys...say cheese!” Felix shrieks when he finally places his last card down–a yellow six and Changbin gets berated by Jeongin after he promised him that Felix doesn’t have any yellow cards.   

20th of June 

You’re sitting alone on the couch curiously watching your husband busy himself making tea. It’s “teatime” he had told you after randomly watching a rather boring movie on TV that was for some reason making a delectable scene of tea making. You both decided to turn off that awful show and converse yourself into a debate about how to properly eat Bungeo-pang while drinking a nice cup of warm infusion.  

He’s fairly quick with his brewery skills and is out by you in no time, handing your mug to you (but not before he took a small sip out of it) and crouches down right in front of the camcorder. 

“What’s the proper way to eat Bungeo-pang–from the tail or from the head? Start!” He claps his hands loudly and you in turn laugh at his dorkiness but settle yourself comfortably to absolutely destroy your husband with your reasoning. Who in the world eats fish bread from the tail anyway? 

“Obviously the right way to eat Bungeo-ppang from the head. It’s just morally correct!” You argue, taking a sip of the drink in your hands. Your husband who couldn’t disagree more scoffs and rolls his eyes. 

“How is eating the head more ‘morally’ correct than eating from the tail. That just seems cruel!”  

“Because if you eat the head first, then the fish would already be dead and wouldn’t experience the pain of being eaten alive! If you start from the tail, then it’ll slowly die out!” 

“It’s not even alive, lovely. Eating from the tail is just more satisfying! It’s less messy too.”  

You tilt your head and raise an eyebrow. “But what if it was alive? Then what would you do then? Also, how is ‘less’ messy than staring from the head, Minnie?” 

“Because–” He groans before the phone cuts him off. It’s shrill and it catches you off guard for a second as you jump in your place on the couch. You both let the phone ring for a second only to have Seungmin get up to his feet and take the call after a recent event where you were hit with severe disorientation after taking a random call from a wrong number. You just remember rambling to the phone...even though the call had been cut. It was awkwardly weird. 

“I’ll be back. And then I’ll show you exactly why eating from the tail is better.” 

You shrug your shoulders and shoo him off (he didn’t exactly like that because he stuck his tongue out) but you hear his footsteps stumble at a loose floorboard. You huff at his clumsiness and turn to stare at the window, formulating more quarrels to use against your lover in a light-hearted discussion.  

Yet you forget them all when Seungmin comes back with a sour look on his face and his mood tense. He doesn’t say anything as he stalks over to you slowly, but his eyes climb through your features with such desperation that you have a sudden pain of ache in your heart and your fingers quiver on your thighs.  

“Who...who was that on the phone?” You poke, taking his sweet hands into yours. 

“Ah, it was the doctor. They got your tests back.” He sighs looking down at his cup on the table. 

“I see. What did Doctor Jung say?”   

Seungmin stiffly clears his throat and plays with your fingers–a habit that he enforces when he finds himself under stress. “Er–he said that you had some inflammation in your blood tests that were causing your...symptoms.” He winces right after though.  

You go quiet at his words. "Is the inflammation serious?”  

“I’m dunno.  Something about your immune system attacking your own tissues–I think.” Seungmin moves in a little closer and kisses the corner of your lips. “He said that you should go ahead and see a neurologist, lovely.” His pout deepens with the passing moment.  

Exhaling deeply, you take your husband off guard when you punch his chest hard. The way he was acting, you thought that you were going to die! But you would be lying that his solemness for your health didn’t make you feel a little warm inside.  

“I thought it was something much more serious!” 

“But it is serious!” He defends, hiding in the crook of your neck. “I suppose, but I promise you I’ll be fine!” You hold at your pinky for him to take, squirming at the way that he nuzzles his nose. 

Looking at your finger, he glances at you once more before he pretends to bite pinky off. But then he seals the promise off while grumbling about how you two babies weren’t anymore. 

22nd of January 

“Lovely, here’s your medicine for today,” Seungmin says and you mourn miserably and take down the sickly-flavored treatment. Your husband brushes his fingers over your cheeks as the heavy weight of the camera settles into a familiar grip now that he points it in your direction.

Whereas he used to film with it every day, this is the first time in months since he picked it up after having to take care of you after you got diagnosed with Autoimmune Encephalitis which severely affected your brain. Worst of his fears–honestly when you both found out.   

Going to cognitive therapy back home then to a hospital and then back home again on repeat has unquestionably taken up both of your time. 

“Minnie, I hate this so much,” You whine before you look up at the camera and tap it lightly on the lens. “Where did you get this from?” 

He hums and brushes a stray strand of hair from your face, “Hmm a while ago.” 

“Oh. Why’d you bring it out now?”  

“Because I want to try something really quick” Seungmin painfully chuckles, pressing his lips on yours for a second before he grabs the remote next to you and changes the channel. 

“Hey! I was watching that!”  

“Sorry lovely.” He places another kiss that you chase after when he pulls apart. “But don’t you want to dance to our wedding song?” 

“Our...wedding song?” You quietly whisper, hesitantly taking his hand. The doubt in your voice breaks his heart, a sound that has slowly become habitual in his ears. It’s saddening but he can’t stop hurting himself for you.  

“I don’t know if I remember the steps.” 

He grabs your waist pulls you into him and softly sways the both of you. It’s tender and sweet with a note of bittersweetness as you stare at him, carefully watching his pupils tremble and his lips pressing together when he looks down at you. “That’s okay. Just follow me.”  

He clicks play on the remote and throws the device down onto the table, letting the faint melody play out from the speakers. You’re not sure if it’s familiar–you haven’t felt anything so intimate anymore as you dwindle into a tunnel of lost memories. But with your husband right near you, your body sinks into his. Horribly astray from the path of your past, you wonder how to stop your lover from hurting as his eyes brim with unspoken tears that you kiss away. 

The audio is faint through the camera even as the TV picks up its volume and leads into a stunning piece that you wobble and spin to with unsteady feet filled with calluses that you couldn’t recognize.

You want to imagine yourself in that white dress with heels that dig into your skin, with a veil that rocks to the wind as you both recite loving vows. You really do–but it’s opaque in your head even as hard you try to paint an image with colors. Any image that would fill that gap in your brain.  

It’s antagonizing as the camcorder records the melancholy of the dance, of what was supposed to be happy now turned depressing as Seungmin recites his promises of that fateful night and the tears he shed over in a beautiful you while he picks you and twirls you around.  

7th of Feburary 

The night sky is seemingly apparent filled with stars and the sounds of croaking frogs and chirping crickets are loud and echoing. It’s tranquil yet the moon cries. The camera shows its pearly tears that are luminescent with the glowing sky.  

“I love you,” Seungmin mumbles.  

“I love you too, Minnie...” 

15th of March 

The doorbell rings and from where you sit at the dining table, you perk up at it as you try to mouth some of the memory exercises that your therapist had given you to practice. Seungmin who was right next to you, helping you along with a small smile, immediately gets up to go answer the door. 

“Hey lovely, there’s someone here to meet you.”  

It takes you a second to register his words, but you curiously look up to find a nervous-looking man standing in the middle of your entryway, staring at you with wide eyes. Seungmin who stands next to him, pushes him along, chastising him for being so bizarre like he’s seeing you for the first time. But the man cannot stop ogling at you with a nostalgic look. 

You wave at him and accidentally nudge the device that was by your arms, which breaks him at of his daze.  

“It’s been a while huh?” Minho trails off and his stomach turns at the way that you glance over at your husband in a feverish glance. He doesn’t think you remember him, remember one of your best friends from high school and it casts a shadow over his eyes that you seem to notice and sigh throbbingly.  

“Uhhh um, I’m so–sorry. I don’t really...I suppose you’re...one of my friends?”  

Minho chuckles and puts down one of your favorite desserts (double chocolate chip cookies) in front of you. “Yeah. I am.” 

“You feel fam–familiar to me? Sorry, I don’t know your name?” You breathe, swallowing deeply when the man looks away at you. You hear his chest stutter, and you feel bad, but you try to listen closely to him when he utters his name. Your husband watches wistfully as you parrot it back to him carefully.

You’re not sure if it’s foreign on your tongue but it brings you great sadness that stabs into your heart with an ever-growing puncture.  

Minho chokes on his stammer at the way that your eyes pool with tears and the wails that you cry in misery.  

22nd of March 

“Do you wanna tell the camera what we’re dressed up as today?” Seungmin asks, rubbing your hair and cheeks with his thumbs. He’s gentle as he does it and waits patiently for you to answer. You’re blinking up at him slowly as you nod your head and ruffle that animal onesie that you both match in.  

“Uhhh a d–dog?” You say, sweetly grinning up at him when he places a tender kiss on your forehead, staying there and soaking in the moment of it all. His warmth is radiating, and you wrap your hands around him. Your husband then presses his lips to your ring finger where your ring lays, the same ring that you watch glinting in the sunlight as it shimmers at the love that he has for you.  

Your heart seems to beat faster, and you feel yourself dust in a sheet of red that Seungmin makes fun of you of, and he falls back into those mindless squabbles that you both used to share. The ones that he reminiscences of, late at night and beer in hand, flipping through a scrapbook that you made for him for his birthday a long time ago.  

And when you laugh at him, his heart swells at the way that your entertainment hasn’t changed one bit. That you still let your eyes crinkle even though your body was slowly killing you–the truth of it all. And that you’re still yourself, the same person that Seungmin fell in love with all of those years ago when you bumped into him at a small get-together. You’re still his lovely.  

He still loves you with the same amount that he’d always had. In sickness and in health. 

24th of May 

“Hey, Minnie. Should...should I change out of this?” You’re still in your sweatpants and black top after coming back from the hospital while holding the camcorder in your hand, following your husband’s frantic movement all over the kitchen with a giggle. He emits excitement and happiness, that oozes from the tips of his fingers, akin to a little child. But you can’t exactly blame him for the same feeling of frenzy that runs through your back, making you shiver. 

“Nope! It’s fine! Just hold on a second–oh there it is!”  His hands held a metal knife while half of the cutlery drawer was out on the counter from his search.  

His voice is giddy and strains his throat a little but truly his happiness seems to explode inside of him. A wish that he’d been praying for has finally come true, after being watered with desperate tears and sounds of silent sobs, your body was able to take in the medication without rejecting it.  

It’s a special day as you both elate inside with hope, so much of it that he had an impulse drive to the nearest bakery to buy a big, large cake and to cut it at home with you to celebrate. You both noticed that you were slightly getting better over the past few months and specialists were able to confirm that indeed you were slowly recovering.  

“I’m so proud of you.” He litters your face with butterfly kisses that murmur all what he wanted to say to you and more. It’s needed you realize, and it’s at the way that your skin burns with a mushy feel that melts your guts. And it’s all so much, so warm that you cry into his chest as he holds the trembling knife in your hands, half-way through the cake. 

“Thank you...I love you so much.”  

Your husband doesn’t say anything but move apart just a little and grab a piece of cake, a small piece to shove into your mouth. He then swipes the blue frosting and rubs it on your cheeks, cooling down the red that covers them, flushed at how heavy you blubber nonsensically. You’re so grateful to him and you hope that he knows that.  

“Yeah? Well guess what? I love you more.”   

18th of August 

The dull lights of the hospital are blurring and depressing as soft murmurs of voices from outside cascade past the room. Seungmin doesn’t know how it’s been since he’s been stuck in this same position, but he doesn’t dare to get up. Earlier your parents were here, and he was in a spot to comfort them over their dear daughter, but he now wonders who is here for him now. He closes his eyes in torturous agony. 

It used to be you who would sit next to him and hold your husband next to your heart, but he supposes that he doesn’t have you anymore. His arms try to cover for yours, but they could never compare to your comfort. What he considered a daydream is now a reality as he watches your chest rise and go down, figure linked up to a bunch of machines monitoring your vitals. You were doing so fine until your body decided to give up again and you both find yourself at step one–all over again. Perhaps even worse.  

Seungmin doesn’t know why he’s recording your sleep and maybe it’s a little creepy, but he just wishes that he could stop time. Just for a second.  

You look peaceful and so, so stunning that it physically rips him apart. The eyebags that crease your eyes are nothing in his eyes and the way that you appear is painless and he knows that this is better for you. An endless sleep. He figures that’s what you deserve. 

He scooches himself a little closer to plant what seems to be one final kiss, right on the corner of your lips. You’re so beautiful. And all fate wanted was to tear you away from his arms. Even though you promised that you would be fine.

Seungmin thinks that he might have run out of tears as he packs away the last of your stuff in boxes. His fingertips brush over the old recordings in nostalgia and he wishes that he took more videos of you. He feels cold as the last one plays out fully in a loop, and he cannot find it in himself to detach himself away from you. Yet his hand gusts over another tape he doesn’t remember about. He curiously pulls it out to check what it is.  

Love notes to my Husband <3333 

Soft whispering is in the background before you move into frame, your eyes squint as you stare at the device with a big smile.

“Oh, is this on? Hi Minnie!” You laugh and twinkle your fingers at the camera with eagerness before you cinch your eyebrows together. “Wait if you’re not my husband then don’t watch this...but if you actually are then um...I love you?” Hands tapping on your thighs, you look up at the ceiling to gather your thoughts before you gaze into the camera's lens with a sigh. 

“So actually. I just want to say that I love you Minnie so so so much and that I’m so happy that you actually married me. To be honest, I think that we were soulmates in our past lives and hopefully, we will meet again in our next ones. I am so thankful for you and all you have done for me, Minnie. I really love youuuuuu” You stretch the last syllable out and walk back to the camera, now just crouching in front of it.  

“And remember to keep on smiling!”  

You kiss the side of the camcorder before turning it off.  

She tries shaking off the memory of Chan resting his hands on her hips as they danced in the moonlight in the living room of his apartment feeling the effects of a night out. How she could feel his breath dance on her skin as he dipped his lips to the shell of her ear, whispering sweet nothings. Lips mere centimeters from interlocking- she remembers it all. But now she wishes she could forget as Chan is throwing an arm over the girl's shoulders, nudging his nose into her hair.

Biting her lip she leaves her drink abandoned on the grass shoving back the chair sliding past Minho and Seungmin roasting marshmallows. Her eyes burned and her chest felt heavy. She hears Minho call out to her. She kept pushing herself forwards.

Going through the house, her heavy steps echoed throughout the empty kitchen. Reaching Chan’s room she hurriedly gathers her belongings. She couldn’t dare to look up at the room that brought comfort, joy and…love.

She releases a bitter laugh.

She slams his door shut and spots Minho at the end of the hallway. His cat-like eyes pick up on her body language.

“Headed out this soon? Without saying goodbye?” He asks rhetorically, gently throwing his arms out to his side.

She inhaled a sharp breath, blinking back tears. “S-something came up. I just remembered.” Her voice was shallow.

Minho embraced his friend. “There is something else bothering you. Don’t lie to me. Just text me when you get home, okay?”

She nods. Minho smooths her hair down before heading back outside. She hears joyous singing and laughter as she ignites the engine to life. Throwing the car into reverse she backs onto the street leaving what she thought she had with Chan behind.

—-

The longest week passed since that night. Each day little reminders of Chan would flood her mind. Give or take some days were worse than others. Folding the laundry she came upon Chan’s favorite sweatshirt. His earthy, woodsy scent still lingered as she folded the article of clothing. She sits letting her eyes linger on the sweatshirt. Moments after the laundry was put away, she stuffs the sweatshirt in the bottom drawer of her dresser.

Later that day she couldn’t sit at her desk without twelve Polaroids and an abundance of photobooth strips staring at her. She holds her favorite picture strip of them. A small smile breaks out from her lips. She could hear his sweet giggle ringing in her ears. Chan’s fingers prodding into her hips making her squeal into his side in the third frame. She shoved the small reminders into the desk drawer under her notebooks.

Minho occasionally checked in asking if she wanted to talk. Again and again she would push the conversation off bringing up a whole new topic. Forgetting was something she was failing to do. She was perched on the couch typing up a new resumé when Chan’s number flashed up on her phone. Pausing her hands over the keyboard of her laptop, she let her phone screen go black. A minute passed before a message pops up.

christopher! :) : hey sweet girl. missed you saying goodbye that night. is everything alright?

Her chin drops to her chest.

Sweet girl.

She hated how hard that affected her.

Why couldn’t she be more angry than sorrowful?

Shaky thumbs paused over the screen, trying to bring herself to write back. Why did he wait this long to reach out? Does he not care about me? She thought.

The storm cloud over her head grows darker and larger with rage as she repeats the motions. Re-reading then deleting her reply. She lets out a choked sob once deleting the tenth message. She threw her phone to the other end of the couch with all her might. The phone bounces off the cushion onto the shag rug. She pressed the palms of her hands to her eyes trying to stop the tears from flowing. She was exhausted from all the crying. While she inhaled deep breaths, the voices in her head taunted her to forget him. But her heart was trying to tell her to hold on. She tucked her legs to her chest, hugging herself tightly watching the sunset with the tears that made the street lights twinkle.

She hated how she missed him.

—-

It takes Chan two weeks before he ends up at her doorstep. He shoots a look over his shoulders seeing her black car parked in the driveway. He playfully knocked as he always did, even though she had given him a key. No one came to the door. He tried again. No one.

Chan clicks her number, bringing the phone up to his ear as he peers around the front of the home. She picked up on the third ring.

“What do you want Chan?”

Chan was taken back by her hoarse voice. He makes his way back to the front door. “Are you home?”

A sniffle comes through the line before a response. “Why?”

Chan shoves the key into the deadlock, not bothering to hang up his phone while she’s crying out his name on the line. He pushes the door open.

“Y/n! Where are you?” He shouts.

Her sweet fragrance welcomes him. He missed the familiarity of her home. Instead he felt a different vibe that lingered in the air.

A bitter cold.

Her home was void of warmth and joy. Chan could almost swear he was in a stranger's home. Chan lets the door shut with a gentle click as he makes his way further into the house. Curtains were drawn shut. Everything seemed undisturbed from the last time he was over. He notices a large box set off to the side beside the trash can. Chan spots a familiar article of clothing peeking out from the semi-closed flaps. He opens the box seeing everything he’s left over her home or what he’s bought her. Picture frames of them stacked in the left side of the box. Dozens of polaroids. Little trinkets and notes were haphazardly thrown in. His large wolf plushie he won her that night the entire group went to the festival, it was hidden behind a pair of his sweatpants.

He drops everything into the box darting down the hallway to her office. The walls were bare, nothing looked the same.

“Y/n.” Chan calls out walking back into the hallway. “We need to talk. Where are you?”

As Chan ends up in the kitchen he hears the front door open and shut. The footsteps were not her’s. Chan goes on high alert, calling out to whoever welcomed themselves into his best friend’s house.

“Minho?” He says seeing the familiar face.

Minho pivots on his heel. A sour look pours over his neutral expression once seeing the Aussie.

“What are you doing here?” Minho asks bitterly.

Chan furrowed his eyebrows together. “What do you mean, ‘What are you doing here?’”

Minho shakes his head with a bitter smile appearing over his lips. “You’re just now checking in on her? Why did it take you more than a week to figure out something?”

Chan runs a quick hand through his curly hair. “Minho, what is going on?”

“Playing with y/n’s feelings is what’s going on.” He barked.

Minho stoops by Chan, snatching up the large box of objects. “Y/n sat and watched you that night getting super close to Jisung’s friend. I kept eyes on you that entire night. You didn’t even bother with y/n after that chick showed up. Just kicked her to the curb. And to text y/n almost two weeks after that night? What a friend you are Chan.”

Minho pauses before disappearing behind the hallway that leads to the front door. With a discourteous tone to his voice Minho leaves a warning to Chan. “You messed up your relationship with y/n. Wake up Chan. Or you won’t have any of us.”

Chan goes to open his mouth, but Minho beats him to it.

“You better be heading out right after me or I’m gonna call the cops. Lock up if you’re smart enough.”

—-

Jisung went to Y/n begging for forgiveness no sooner he saw Minho with this infuriated look on his face. Minho explains everything in utmost detail. Jisung’s stomach drops. Jisung explains to his friend what happened that night and why his friend was all touchy with Chan.

“Ji, you know I like Chan.” She mumbles.

Jisung rubs the back of his neck, ashamed to look into his friends' hurt eyes. “I kinda realized last second. Y/n, I really didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I swear!” Jisung rubs her shoulder causing her to glance away from her lap. Jisung’s eyes were hazy. “I feel horrible. I really do.”

She grasps Jisung’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “Jisung, I know you wouldn’t do this out of spite. You’re too sweet for that. I am a bit disappointed though.”

Jisung nods slowly. She does go on to explain how frustrated she felt with him. Jisung offers to talk to Chan but with Minho and Chan getting into it hours earlier, she saved Jisung the grief and told him to leave Chan be. It felt easier being able to talk with Minho and Jisung now that she’s opened up how she’s feeling. She felt less alone in the entire situation. Minho was her endless cheerleader on the days where she only sat doing nothing. Jisung encouraged her to go out and enjoy the fresh air. She was determined to get back into a steady routine with her two best friend’s help.

“Minho? Should I reach out to Chan?” She asks one day while sitting in Minho’s kitchen as he cooked dinner.

Minho sets the wooden spoon down, turning away from the stove. “It’s up to you. But I would let Chan be the first to say something. You are not in the wrong.”

She sits letting her mind replay Minho’s advice. She secretly hopes that Chan will pull through.

“I know he probably doesn’t care for me anymore.”

There’s that pang in her heart.

She continues. “I can’t seem to stop worrying how he’s doing.” She states, running a hand over Dori’s head who was perched in her lap.

Minho nods, understanding where she was coming from. “Give him time, y/n. Trust me. He’s probably losing sleep right now trying to figure out how to handle this.”

Minho was correct. Chan hasn’t slept for days on end. The guilt ate away at his consciousness. He didn't reach out to anyone. He was scared too. Until Changbin went to visit and talk to Chan but they ended up arguing. Changbin ended up telling Chan off, which left him in a bigger mess. The other boys questioned each other about what was going on now seeing that Changbin was heated. Minho kept quiet about the situation, giving both of his friends the privacy they deserved.

Laying wide awake, Chan finds himself in a trance looking at the picture frame on his nightstand of him and her sitting on the Ferris wheel with the biggest ball of cotton candy in his hand. Chan makes up his mind. A dial tone greets him no sooner he clicks her contact. He shakes his head letting the voicemail play.

“Hi it’s y/n! Just leave a message and I'll try my best to reach back. Thank you! Byeeee!”

“Y/n,” Chan breathes trying to keep his tone even from hearing her cheery voicemail. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not listening to my heart. I’m such an idiot. Those feelings between you and I,” His voice breaks.

“It may seem that I didn’t feel it. And I am so foolish to not be upfront with those feelings. It’s so unfair to you. Our relationship. Y/n, please don’t hate me.” Chan wept.

“I spend way too much time being so caught up in my head to not be in the moment with you. And if i could, i would redo it all for you. To be my truest self with you. I guess I was scared to fall in love with you. I think it's too late for me to be saying this, Y/n. You make me feel free. Free from anxiety. Free from these haunting thoughts in my head. Free to be my carefree self. I realize how you hold a special place in your heart. Yet, I made the mistake of playing with it. My heart is breaking with this unknown between us.” Chan pauses, releasing out another sob.

“Forgive me, y/n. Baby, please.”

—-

A small hand rubs up and down his forearm. Chan lay fast asleep with tear stained cheeks while cradling the blue koala plushie Y/n gifted him for his 24th birthday. He stirred slightly hearing a soft voice. Blinking slowly, the fuzziness slowly dissipated revealing the girl he was in love with.

Chan barely makes out her bloodshot eyes. She brings a hand up to cover her face letting out a small whine. Chan props himself up on an elbow leaning forwards reaching out his other arm to grasp her free hand.

“C’mere my sweet girl.” He whispered, his voice breaking. “My God, I'm so sorry.”

Her knees give the second Chan brings her to his chest. His arm is stretched sideways across her back, his hand placed at the back of her head. He stays like that for a couple moments waiting to see if she retracts back. Chan eventually lifts her so she’s seated on his lap once feeling her body give into his weight. Her tears stained his black hoodie as she wept. Chan’s heart swelled, knowing she’s in his arms not trying to push away. A glimmer of hope washed through him.

He was going to do this for her.

“Y/n, could you please look at me?” He asks through his cries.

She shook her head and pushed her nose further into the crook of his neck. Chan caressed the back of her head again but this time bringing his lips to linger on her temple.

“T-the v-voicemail. Channie.” She wailed. She pauses, fisting Chan’s hoodie tighter. “I can’t hate you. But- I felt like you didn’t care for me a-anymore after that n-night. Like I-I was just a toy.”

Chan strains back a shaky breath. The very sentence he didn’t want to hear from her lips. He wrapped his arms tighter giving his promise to protect from here on out.

—-

“Channie?”

Her voice cut through the heavy silence. It was nighttime now. They cried and cried after discussing their thoughts and feelings, mending their broken pieces of their hearts. She ended up falling asleep first, Chan following shortly after. The moonlight coats over the two cuddled in bed. Chan released a groan- a deeper one due to the fact he’s strained his vocal chords. “Are you okay?” He asks with a bit of sleep evident in his voice. “I can leave you be and I’ll sleep on the couch.”

She felt Chan begin to shift. “N-no. Channie, you’re fine.”

He relaxes back into the bed. She nudges her nose into his cheek making Chan’s stomach flip. Her eyelashes kiss his rouged skin. The same butterflies hit him when he had cradled her body the one night she had fallen sick. He never left her side the entire night. Taking a throw blanket and a spare pillow, Chan gave her the space she needed while he slept by her bedside.

He smiled for the first time in two weeks.

Chan felt a small shift in the air. “Do you feel better?” He questions.

She shook her head, scared to make eye contact with those whiskey colored eyes she always got drunk on. “Lighter. This weight isn’t on my chest anymore.”

Chan uses the back of his index finger to trace her jawline. Her eyes flutter shut.

“Y’know I'm an idiot?” Chan states. “Making these decisions without thinking about them entirely. Why do you keep giving me chances?”

Her eyes flicked open. Chan’s eyes already focused on her. She suddenly felt small.

“Hey, look at me, sweet.” He cooes, hooking a finger beneath her chin.

“Channie,”

Chan runs a hand through his curls. “I’m sorry for hiding how I felt. I was afraid, which sounds like a silly excuse. Whatever this bond we have, I love it. Explaining my feelings is where it stopped me.”

She lets her jaw go agape. “You’re a songwriter Channie. All these amazing songs you help produce-”

Chan chuckles, shutting his eyes for a moment letting his ears grow red. “I know,” he draws out. “I feel like a horrible friend. I guess I wanted to perfect the way I wanted to tell you.”

“That night, Minho caught me leaving. He knew instantly what bothered me. I was scared that he was going to hurt you. Chan, he looked so livid.” Her small voice shook, recalling that dark look in Minho’s eyes.

“I hurt you y/n. I deserved to be harassed by Minho.”

She swirls Chan’s hair through her fingers. She loved running her fingers through Chan’s soft waves. Her gaze danced over Chan’s face trying to find an expression. He lay with shut eyes.

She continues on. “But I knew you would come to realize. You needed the space to process your mind. But I am at fault too, for not being upfront about how I feel.”

“Y/n, you shouldn’t have to apologize.” Chan responded. A saddening expression floods over his previous state. “You told me how you feel with me. Remember?”

She frowns. “But I think it wasn’t good enough.”

Chan taps her chest right above her heart. “Your heart was doing the right thing. I was a bad guy in this entire situation. I didn’t want to listen to my heart. I wanted to ignore those feelings due to me being a coward. Don’t apologize, it’s my fault.”

She frowns again, twisting Chan’s heart strings. Chan leans his forehead to touch hers. “Y/n, I want to do this the right way. I adore everything you do. How you smile. Laugh, gosh, even eat!”

He earns a couple giggles from her.

“You being you is just plenty for me. I promise to work on telling you my feelings. But I ask if you would be patient with me. I wanna make you proud.”

Chan sees a light glimmering in her beautiful eyes as she speaks. “I already am proud of you.”

Chan blinked. “How?”

Her hands lay flat on his chest. “By stepping up and wanting to make what’s between us right. I know you were scared. Chan, don’t beat yourself harder than what you need too.”

“I don’t realize until something bad happens.” He admits.

She pats his chest. “I can help you become who you want to be, Channie.”

“I want to be your boyfriend.”

She grins. “Channie,”

Chan hums in the sweetest tone rubbing their noses together. Time stops again but this time their lips meet.

─ ☘︎*̥˚─── ☘︎*̥˚─

you're bleeding.

you're sitting on the bar stool in your kitchen, knee bouncing absently, nails cutting into your cuticles, blood dripping down your thumb. there's a commotion outside. a loud one, and when you peeked through your window earlier, you saw two of your neighbors arguing loudly.

then you saw chan's car pull up through the window and you pulled the curtain shut abruptly. he should be coming in any minute now. and then you'll tell him what you know. what you know about him and what he'd been doing under the guise of "working."

you will. this time, you will.

when he steps through the door, he doesn't even look at you. just kicks off his shoes, and slides into his home slippers.

his evident fatigue almost softens your resolve. he's exhausted. maybe this could wait till the morning... you begin to think, before you shake yourself out of it. no. no this can't wait. not anymore.

You clear your throat, the sound echoing through the quiet kitchen. chan pauses, finally acknowledging your presence with a faint tilt of his head.

"hey," you start. pause. clear your throat again. "We need to talk."

he glances at you, looking mildly annoyed.. "can it wait? I'm beat."

"it can't." the words surge from your lips before you can chicken out and stop them.

he sighs, turning around to full face you, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. "fine. what is it, then? what do you have to say that's so important that it couldn't wait till the morning?"

his demeaning tone is almost enough to get you to change your mind. but you don't.

"do you realize how late it is?"

"yes." his tone is curt.

"okay," you take a breath. count to three. "okay. so you do realize it."

"that's what I said," he says mockingly, sagging against the wall.

you straighten your back, determined not to let his dismissive attitude deter you. "and do you have any explanation for why you're four hours later than you said you would be?"

chan's eyes narrow, a flicker of annoyance passing over his features. "work ran late, okay? it happens."

"it happens," you repeat. "except it always seems to happen to you. only you. and not the other members."

"the other members aren't responsible for keeping deadlines, y/n." he says through hissed teeth, his back straightening with tension. "i'm leader. it falls on me. i thought you knew that."

you can feel the tension crackling in the air, the weight of unspoken truths hanging heavy between you. you know this conversation could change everything, but you're resolved to see it through.

"I know you're the leader, chan," you reply, your voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in your stomach. "but that doesn't mean you have to shoulder everything alone. we're a team, remember?" with your words, youre begging him to take the excuse youre practically throwing at him. but he doesn't. he just scoffs.

"except we're not a team," he says. "youre not with me in the studio, because you know nothing about it."

"chan, that's not fair," you retort, the frustration bubbling up within you. "just because I'm not physically there doesn't mean I'm not supporting you in every other way I can."

"supporting me? is that what you call it? sitting at home, waiting for me to come back at ungodly hours? that's not support, y/n, that's called being clingy."

you feel a sting at his words, but you push past it, refusing to let him deflect the conversation.

"I'm not being clingy, Chan. I'm concerned. Concerned about you and your well-being. This isn't just about work running late. It's about the pattern, the secrecy, the distance between us," you say, your voice steady but laced with emotion.

he latches onto one word. "secrecy? what're you talking about?"

the words lodge in your throat. you don't want to say them. you don't want to say them because if you do, the truth you have been trying so hard to deny will etch itself into the walls of your shared apartment. if you do, there will be no going back, no more pretending that you don't know.

the only sound between you is the sound of a siren outside. the sound of your neighbors arguing. his eyes are dark, intense. they don't waver from yours. waiting for you to speak. you don't think you can.

you speak.

"i know about her."

the fact that he doesn't even ask who makes you feel dizzy.

"she's just a producer," he says. "she works with us."

you shut your eyes, disgust coiling in your chest. "please don't insult me, chris."

chan's expression shifts from annoyance to something unreadable, his eyes darting away from yours for a fleeting moment before returning with a hard edge.

"what are you trying to say?" he asks, his voice quieter now, a dangerous calm settling over him.

her heart is beating so fast in her chest, she is almost sure it will leave a permanent indent. "i'm saying that i know that you asked her out a month before you met me. that you were in love with her for years and that she rejected you."

his fingers curl into fists, and he's gone slightly pale. "who told you?"

"god, chris, that's what you care about? who told me? it doesn't fucking matter who told me!"

his silence is deafening. the anger that had unfurled in your chest goes out as quickly as it had come. it is replaced by desperation. it disgusts you how much you love him, how much you are desperate for him to deny what you are insinuating, desperate for him to hold you and kiss away the tears that had made an appearance on your cheeks and tell you that you are wrong. but he doesn't. he doesn't.

you're still bleeding from picking at your thumb and his silence speaks volumes, filling the room with tension thicker than any words could. you watch as emotions flicker across his face like shadows dancing in the dim light of the kitchen. you want to take back everything you said, to erase the truth that now hangs heavy in the air between you.

but you can't. because you said it. and now it's out there, impossible to retrieve.

"what am i to you?" you finally ask, your voice barely a whisper. but he hears you. he always does. "what am i to you that you can stay all night alone in the studio with a girl you used to love for years and then come home and turn on me like i'm the one that's done something wrong?"

chan's eyes flicker with a myriad of emotions—anger, guilt, frustration. he opens his mouth, then closes it, as if grappling for the right words.

finally he says, "don't do this to me, y/n. not now."

a strangled sound leaves your lips before you can stop it. "to you? to you?"

"yes, to me." he hisses, running a hand through his hair, messing up the curls more than it already was. "you know we have a comeback soon. you know how stressed out i get--"

you interrupt him, unable to bear the weight of his excuses any longer. "don't you dare turn this around on me, bangchan."

he looks at you, eyes hard, but there's panic in them. panic and anguish. "don't call me that. you don't call me that."

"you kissed her!" you shriek suddenly.

he freezes. everything seems to freeze, your fingers and toes are numb. youre still bleeding.

the words hang in the air, heavy and charged with emotion. chan's expression tightens, jaw clenched, eyes darkening with a mix of anger and guilt. he takes a step back, as if physically recoiling from the accusation.

"i..." he starts, but the words catch in his throat. He struggles to find the right response, his mind racing with excuses and denials. but there's no denying the truth in your eyes, in the trembling of your voice. "yeah. i did."

there it is. the blow you've been waiting for all night.

tears threaten to spill over as you struggle to comprehend the magnitude of his confession. every moment you shared with him feels tainted, every word spoken now questioned. you thought you knew him, trusted him, loved him. but now, it feels like you're standing on the precipice of a vast unknown, unsure of where to go from here.

chan's gaze flickers, remorse etched into his features as he takes a hesitant step forward, reaching out a hand as if to console you. but you recoil, the pain too raw, too fresh to bear his touch.

"don't," you whisper, your voice barely above a broken sob. "don't touch me."

"y/n-"

"how could you do this to me?" your voice is broken, sailing of several octaves, shrill, because how could he? "how could you come home and lie to me every single fucking night--"

"y/n, please, just listen-"

"i'm so stupid. so fucking stupid. how could i believe you? all this time i was just a fucking rebound, chris. you never loved me, you--"

"y/n, that's not true. i-i made a mistake, i should have told you, spoken to you. i never should've let it get this far, i should've broken up with you before--"

"you said you loved me." you sob. "you said nothing could come between us, that you would marry me, you said that i was the girl of your dreams--"

"well i woke up!" he screams suddenly, chest heaving. you flinch, back hitting the wall. "i woke up, y/n!"

you stare. you're still crying. still bleeding.

"i woke up and realized i made a mistake," he continues. "i thought i could move on, that i could love you the same way i love her, but i can't. i can't, y/n. i can't and it's killing me." the pain in his voice, his eyes, is raw. "i know that that makes me a fucking cunt but i- i don't know...i'm sorry."

your heart shatters into a million jagged pieces at his words, the pain ripping through you like a violent storm. the truth hits you with a force you hadn't anticipated, leaving you gasping for breath amidst the wreckage of your shattered dreams.

for a moment, the world spins around you, and you struggle to find solid ground. how could everything unravel so swiftly? how could the love you believed in so fervently turn out to be nothing but a cruel illusion?

"i'm sorry," he repeats pathetically. "i do care about you, y/n, i swear--"

"stop," you whisper. "stop lying, chris. enough."

chan's shoulders slump, defeated, as if your words have drained him of all remaining strength. he takes a step back, hands falling limply to his sides.

"i understand if you hate me," he says softly, his voice barely audible over the sound of your own ragged breaths.

hate him? the thought seems foreign, inconceivable, despite the searing pain that courses through every fiber of your being. how could you hate the person who once meant everything to you? the person whose name used to bring a smile to your lips, whose touch once ignited a fire within your soul?

"i'm leaving," you say and you hate the small, desperate, pathetic part of you that hopes he'll stop you. he doesn't.

"okay," he says.

you stumble towards the door, your vision blurred by tears, your heart aching with a pain you never imagined possible. each step feels like an eternity, each breath a struggle to hold back the overwhelming flood of emotions threatening to consume you.

as you reach for the doorknob, your hand trembling, you steal one last glance over your shoulder. chan stands there, his silhouette illuminated by the dim light of the kitchen, his gaze fixed on the floor as if unable to meet your eyes.

for a fleeting moment, you wonder if he'll say something, if he'll beg you to stay, to give him another chance. but the silence stretches on, unbroken, and you realize that there are no words left to say, no apologies that can mend the shattered pieces of your heart.

youre outside before you can even comprehend it. your neighbors are now arguing loudly with the police in the middle, trying to break them up. one of them is struggling to escape into their blue car. it looks violent. it looks like the least of your worries.

the chilly night air hits you like a physical force, causing you to shiver involuntarily as you step out onto the deserted street. the echo of your own footsteps feels like a solemn march, a dirge for the love you thought you had.

you don't know where you're going, only that you need to get away, to escape the suffocating weight of betrayal that hangs heavy in the air around you. your mind is a whirlwind of emotions, each thought a jagged edge that cuts deeper into your wounded heart.

then you hear a car door slam. a loud screech. a shout. your name.

then you are hit by a blue car.

the world spins and there is pain everywhere but you can only focus on the sun that is just now rising. on the red and gold. it's very pretty, you realize. it's very pretty and it might just be the last one you see.

__________

chan swears he loves you. swears it with his whole chest, swears it on the tears that run down his cheeks as he holds your hand, swears it on the sun that is only just rising. swears it until his voice becomes hoarse, raw with his declaration.

he wants to believe that you can hear him. but your laying on the pavement, laying there and bleeding like its the only thing your body knows how to do.

It’s killing Chan slowly. Every single day feels like torture for him. The days get exponentially worse. He feels like a hollow shell of his former self, like the wind goes through him when he steps foot outside. It feels like his shoulders are permanently sagged forward. 

But the worst part is that you don’t even know it. You don’t know how he’s collapsing inwards like a dying star. 

It was one of the worst car accidents the city has seen in years. A friend was driving you home that night; Chan had begged to be the one to pick you up, but no, you said it was fine, the friend was heading that way anyway. Why make the unnecessary trip?

You told him he needed sleep. Always putting his needs before your own. You always did. 

He should’ve put up more of a fuss. He should’ve put his foot down. He should’ve already been outside the house in his car with the passenger seat warmer on by the time you left that stupid party. 

He should’ve gotten out of the car and opened the door for you and had a cold bottle of water waiting in the cup holder. He should’ve kissed you on the cheek and asked you all about your time. He should have been there.

But he wasn’t. 

A drunk driver slammed into the passenger side of your friend’s car at a speed that you shouldn’t have even survived.

Miracles do happen, though. But what a price to pay for a miracle. 

For as long as he lives, Chan will never forget the sheer panic and terror he felt when the call came in from your mother. You were already at the hospital undergoing emergency surgery.

He was the last to know. 

After all, he wasn’t your emergency contact. He’s only your boyfriend.

Was. Was your boyfriend. Was? Is that the right word? He isn’t. But he is. There was no breakup. 

Is that what he’s going through right now? A breakup? 

You’re not on a break. But what is this? What is this loss? This severance is so horrible. 

It’s fucked up. It’s a fucked up, amnesia induced breakup. 

Memory loss is a funny thing. Doctors scratch their heads and shrug their shoulders without any answers. The brain is a tricky thing. 

Chan did what he was allowed to in that hospital. He sat in that stark white room under those harsh LED lights and he waited until you were awake. He even waited much longer after that because only two visitors were permitted inside your room at a time— and he wasn’t about to force his way in and kick one of your parents out. 

He let your sister go in first. He even let your cousin go in before him. But when it was finally his turn… 

He never got to see you. 

“The last five years?” Chan asked with a tight throat. Did he even have any more tears left to cry? How is there any liquid left in his body?

“She says doesn’t remember anything, Chan.” Your mother’s voice was just as hollow as his. “She was asking about her freshman roommate.”

A doctor stood in between him and your mom. “It’s best if we don’t throw everything at her at once. Amnesia victims rarely never get their memories back, but we’ve found that it needs to happen organically. Seeing her will overwhelm her and that could stunt the healing process.”

Chan’s mouth opened and closed several times but no words came out at all. His heart may have stopped. 

Does that mean…?

No…

“He can’t see her at all?” Your mother asked quietly. “Not even to visit? He doesn’t have to mention he’s her boyfriend, he can just say that he’s a friend, or a coworker, or—“

The doctor cut her off. “No contact. Not until we’re a bit through recovery and she’s starting to get her memories back.”

Chan was suddenly in a chair. 

When did he sit down? The Doctor’s hands were on his shoulders and he was looking down at him with a sympathetic stare.  

“It’s not forever, son.”

Chan was only able to nod. His mouth was so dry, the back of his neck felt clammy. His head was spinning.

Books often speak of moments as ‘Earth-shattering’. Of moments so catastrophic that the planet stops spinning on its axis and time stands still.

He gets it now. 

The doctor spoke a few more words to your mother before walking away. She looked down at Chan sadly. 

Your mother sat on the chair next to him and wrapped him up in a hug. His world was falling apart around him. You were slipping through his fingers. He couldn’t even see you.

Hot tears poured down his face while he sat there with his head in his hands. Why does it feel like he’s losing you? Why is this the only way? Why are these the cards that are being dealt?

Why didn’t he pick you up from that fucking party?

“She loves you, Chan… she’ll come to her senses, I promise, I promise.”

It’s been two months, one week, two days and eight hours since he’s talked to you. That long since he’s known peace. Since he’s known any sort of comfort. 

You’re the last thing he thinks about before he closes his eyes at night and the first thing he thinks about in the morning. No matter how many times he wakes up and feels the cold bed next to him, it never dulls the ache in his chest.

It’s not a healthy mindset, he knows. And it’s not that you were codependent on one another, that’s not it at all. You were just… ripped away from him. 

Food has no taste. The sky isn’t as blue as it used to be. Clouds don’t make fun shapes like they did with you by his side. The stars are still in the sky, he thinks, he hasn’t had the guts to look at them. 

God, you love the stars so much. You always talked about how pretty they are— how absolutely breath-taking you think the universe is. Chan would simply listen, he would always listen. All he ever wanted to do was listen.

How is he supposed to look at anything the same way? How is any day supposed to be normal when half of his life is suddenly missing. What’s the point of making music if you’re not there to listen to it?

5:00 PM is the hardest hour to get through. You don’t open the door to his apartment when you get off work. You don’t tell him about the things that happened during your shift. 

He can’t leave little snacks out on the counter for you to eat when you get home like he used to. 

Mice would get to it before you did. 

His lonely apartment is slowly losing your smell. He could spray your perfume, sure, you keep a bottle at his place, but it’s not the same. You somehow made the scent sweeter by letting it linger on your skin. 

All of your old toiletries are still there where you left them. Your spare toothbrush has been bone dry and untouched since 9:28 AM that morning. Your shampoo bottles are still half full and waiting for you on your shower shelf.

It had rained a few days before your accident. You had started a puzzle on his dining room table that day– you told him it was the perfect rainy day activity. It was a picture of different comic book covers. It’s now collecting dust. Unmoved and unsolved. 

Just like him.

It was a battle and a half to throw away your leftovers from two nights before your car accident. He felt like he was throwing away your normal life, your tiny domestic traces. 

He didn’t want to cleanse you from his life, but you were washing away. Your ghost was eroding with time. 

Your spare car keys are still hanging on the key ring. Your rain coat is on the third hook draped right over your work bag. Even your phone charger is still plugged into the wall on your side of the bed.

Did you know you forgot to put your favorite gold earrings on that night? You left them on the nightstand. They’re still there, don’t worry. Right next to the glass of water you drank half of. 

Do you even remember them…? He got them for you for your first Christmas together. 

There are so many signs of a life interrupted integrated so deeply into his. 

You’re a clock whose hands stopped suddenly at 1:24 AM. 

This sort of haunting is unbearable. You’re not a phantom in his life, though. You’re something so unattainable that he had once but it was taken away with empty promises of return. 

It’s like you’re a shiny diamond hidden away beneath lasers and traps like in those stupid, cheesy spy movies you love so much. 

Do you know what he would give to watch one of those with you in his arms right now? 

Chan feels like he’s banging on the glass of a one sided window, screaming for you to remember him. Meanwhile you’re on the other side only staring into a mirror, trying to pick up the pieces from before. 

Your mom sends him updates on your condition all the time. He knows that you started working at the local library about three weeks ago. 

You had worked there in college before graduating and getting your last job. It was one of your favorite jobs you ever had. That library was so special to you. 

To him too. 

It’s the library where he first met you. 

The same library Chan finds himself in front of now. 

He shouldn’t go in. He can’t go in. He absolutely should not go inside. 

Bang Chan you should not and cannot go inside this library. Under no circumstances should you step foot inside this building where your other half is working. 

Absolutely not. 

The door emits a soft ding when he opens it. Electronic. Quiet. Peaceful. 

There’s a certain type of silence that sits in a library. It’s closer, thicker— warmer. It’s an expected silence. They’re supposed to be quiet. 

Chan can hear his sneakers take every step on the carpeted floor. There’s no one sitting behind the front desk; that’s where you usually were. 

His eyes look all around, but there’s no sign of you anywhere. A few people toddle around the shelves. 

There’s more soft beeping coming from the self checkout. That’s new. They didn’t have that when you worked here years ago. You probably hate it. 

On the day he met you, you were wearing a pair of dark green pants and a black long sleeve shirt. Your hair was clipped behind your head and pieces were falling over your face. 

Chan was only in the library to look for the bathroom. He was on his way to lunch with a friend, but he just had to stop somewhere. The library was the closest option. 

When he had heard the sound of books falling, he investigated and found you in the center of the carnage, the glasses on your nose sat crookedly and you rubbed your head. 

Your eyes met. He was a goner. 

How disgustingly poetic that he finds himself here now. Where he really shouldn’t be. He was quite literally prescribed a restraining order against you. 

Chan meanders around with his hands in his pockets, the silence getting louder and louder the further he gets inside.

Maybe you’re not working today? 

No one is anywhere to be seen. He’s checking down all the aisles but he doesn’t see you anywhere. 

Maybe it’s for the best that you’re not here. He’s not supposed to see you anyway. He’s breaking the doctor’s rules by doing this anyway. 

He needs to leave. He needs to get out of here. 

His feet stop in front of the very aisle where he saw you for the first time. 

Empty. 

You-less. 

If he thinks hard enough, Chan can picture you in front of him, laughing quietly with the most adorable, embarrassed blush on your cheeks. 

What a moment. 

Is it possible to spend eternity in that moment? Obviously internal clocks can be rewound, paused, flipped every which way; can he go back to that day? Can he go back to the day where every single poem suddenly made sense?

He would take any day, really, any day that had you in it. Birthdays, holidays, late night dates, Hell, he’d even take a day where he only saw you when you dropped off a drink for him in his studio. 

Anything, he would take anything just to see your smile bloom on your face while he watches.

“Can I help you find something?”

His breath catches in his throat, it feels like he’s physically punched in the chest. That voice. That beautiful, melodic voice. He hasn’t heard it in person in months, only in videos he had on his phone. 

Slowly, Chan turns to face the source of his favorite pitch. 

His throat immediately tightens. 

There you are. You. Beautiful you. 

Standing right there. Looking at him like a complete fucking stranger. 

“I…” his voice is hoarse. Chan can feel the tears in his eyes begin to form. He didn’t think this through, did he?

You’re staring at him expectantly, waiting for him to say anything. You’re waiting, come on, Chan. Speak up. Say something. 

Looking up at the shelf, you look back down at him with a smile. “A history guy, hm?”

No.

“Yeah.”

You giggle. “I always had a thing for History.”

He knows. 

“Really?”

“Mhmm.” You respond with a grin. 

Specifically Ancient Rome. He knows. 

You continue. “Specifically Ancient Rome.”

Chan nods and clears his throat. His palms feel so sweaty. His chest is almost panting. Every single cell in his body just wants to lunge forward and wrap you in a hug. 

He wants to bury his face in your neck and sob while you hold him. He wants to tell you that he missed you so much. He wants to tell you how your pillow is losing the scent of your shampoo. He wants to tell you that he’s been DVR-ing your favorite show so that you can watch it later. He wants to tell you about his day. He wants to kiss you until you’re breathless. He wants you to hear the new song he’s been working on.

But—

“If you need anything, let me know.”

You start to walk away.

Chan feels his heart physically break. It’s happening again. He’s on the other side of that one way mirror. It’s happening again! No, no please. 

His eyes widen, the words get caught in his throat. Fuck, Y/N, please!

“W-Wait!” he says quickly. 

You turn around with a curious look. 

“The Odyssey,” he blurts. “Where uh… where can I find it?”

Your eyes light up. “Oh, I love The Odyssey.”

He knows. You collect different translations of it. 

“I collect different translations of that book, here I’ll show you where it is.”

With a little hop in your step you lead him towards all the classics. 

He watches you like you’re an oasis in the desert— maybe it’s because you are. You’re what he’s been crawling towards for two months. 

You lead him all the way to the shelf where the Odyssey lives. Your nimble fingers reach forward and grab one of the copies. 

Green nail polish. You still paint your nails green. You picked that habit up a year after he met you. 

The memories have to be there, Y/N, they have to be. Chan bought you that first bottle of green nail polish as a joke on Saint Patrick’s Day. 

Y/N, please. 

“This translation is my favorite,” you whisper and hand him the book. 

Chan smiles sadly and takes the book from you, unable to meet your eyes. He knows if he gazes into those gorgeous eyes that he’ll lose it. He’ll fall to his knees and cry. 

“Thank you,” he whispers back. 

You stand there for a moment, he can feel your eyes on his face. He always has been able to tell when you were looking at him, it’s a little, secret superpower. 

From foot to foot, your weight shifts. 

You only do that when you’re confused. Why are you confused? Y/N, are you confused?

“I’m sorry…” you start, sounding so unsure. “You remind me of someone…”

It feels like a defibrillator was hooked up to his chest. Chan’s eyes widen and he finally looks up at you. 

You’re looking at him so carefully. He can see the gears turning in your head. Your tongue pokes out of your lips and wets them. 

Y/N, please. 

“I just… I can’t figure out who. Do I… do I know you? I was—” You stop yourself. 

Fuck. Fuck! What was he supposed to say? Fuck! 

Chan wants to scream. He wants to grab you by the shoulders and cry that he’s your soulmate, that he’s the person that knows you better than anyone else in this world. 

Yes, you do, you do know him. And he knows you. He knows how you take your coffee, what movies make you cry, what color jell-o is your favorite. 

He knows that you never wear matching socks and you always lift your feet when driving over railroad tracks. 

He knows that when you were 6 you ran into the corner of a cabinet and that’s how you got that scar next to your eyebrow. 

Chan knows that your entire life you wanted to be an author but you’re so scared of failure that you decided not to chase after it. 

He knows everything. 

“I just have one of those faces, I guess.” It comes out of his mouth so strained. 

You stare back at him so carefully. Do you see right through him?

“Maybe,” you say slowly. You don’t believe him. He knows that tone. You absolutely do not believe a word he’s saying. “Are you sure?”

Chan swallows, he grips the book in his hand tighter. The lump in his throat almost doesn’t go down, more tears prick at his eyes. 

“I would never forget a face like yours,” he chokes out. 

Your eyes widen and you blush, looking to the side with a smile. You always were a sucker for cheesy compliments. 

After thinking for a second, you reach into your pocket and take out a little slip of paper. 

“Here,” you say after scribbling something down. Holding it out, Chan sees it’s your phone number. He has it memorized. “If you ever need more books to read… or find… call me.”

Chan takes the paper with a racing heart. He gives you a smile, his dimples showing. “I think I will,” he whispers to you. 

Another few moments pass of you just staring at him before you nod and giggle nervously. “Well, I gotta get back to work, so..”

Chan nods and moves to the side. You walk past him. 

Your perfume curls around him like a blanket and he craves that sweet serenity he finds when he holds you close and breathes you in. 

Three steps after you pass him, you turn around. “Oh, I didn’t catch your name.”.

“Chan,” he answers softly. 

“Chan,” you repeat. It goes right through him. 

Your voice. Your sweet, beautiful, melodic voice. Finally, he heard you say his name again.

“I’m Y/N,” you whisper to him with a friendly smile. 

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” Chan has to physically force the word ‘meet’ out of his mouth. 

“You too, Chan.”

And with that, you were gone, retreating back into your fortress of papyrus. 

—————————————————————

A bad idea was going into the library that day. 

An even worse idea was texting you the day after to ask how your day is going. 

And then an absolutely fucking idiotic move was asking if you wanted to go to dinner with him. 

And the worst part? You said yes. 

So, now here Chan was, standing in front of the mirror in his bedroom getting ready for what you thought was a first date, but to him was just a dinner date. 

How is he supposed to do this? He’s not, that’s how. 

Chan fiddles with his bracelet right before his phone rings. 

His heart drops when he sees the caller ID, your mother. 

“Ah, fuck…” he whispers before grabbing his phone. Of course you were going to tell your mom, you tell your mom everything. 

“Hello?” he asks warily into the phone. 

“Hi, Chan,” she says slowly, she sounds nervous, why does she sound nervous. 

“How are you? Is everything okay?”

“It’s Y/N…” Her voice lowers. Chan’s heart drops. “Before you panic, she’s okay! It’s um.. she’s getting ready right now… for a date…”

Chan isn’t moving. Yes, he knows you are. He knows it. But words won’t form in his mouth. 

“Channie.. I’m starting to wonder if that doctor isn’t right.. I can’t stand the thought of her finding someone else when you’re waiting for her… I tried to talk her out of it but she just seems so floaty and happy. God, I feel sick to my stomach.”

His jaw clenches. Now or never. 

“It’s with me,” he blurts. 

Your mom goes silent. Then a huge sigh comes out of her mouth. 

“I wish I could say I’m angry,” a little laugh follows it. “I think I’m only angry that you didn’t say something.”

He tells her everything, down to the way he pretended not to know you. 

“Well, you’re going to have to tell her eventually.” Your mom sounds unsure, herself. 

“Or maybe she’ll remember me.”

“What if she doesn’t?”

Chan sits down on the edge of his bed. His eyes are staring at the wall, unfocused. 

She’s right. What if you don’t? 

“Then, I’ll just … do it all again.”

Silence greets him on the other side of the line. Another tiny laugh comes from your mom. “I always knew you two were perfect together. Just like two magnets, you always come towards one another.”

—————————————————————

“I’ve never eaten here before,” you say with a chipper smile on your face from across the table. 

Yes, you have. 

“Really?” Chan asks, taking a sip of his water. 

“I pass it all the time and always wondered how the food was.”

He looks back down at the old menu. 

This restaurant was more than special to him. It’s where he took you on your first date. It’s an old fashioned burger joint with the greasiest, most delicious French fries in town. 

The first time you guys came here, you talked and talked until the place closed. And even after that, you drove around and talked until it was late. 

“I’ve been here a few times, it’s really good. The milkshakes are some of the best I’ve ever had.” Chan’s sweaty hands fiddle with the menu. 

He’s more nervous now than on the first date. 

“What’s the best one?” you ask with a smile. 

A small laugh comes out of his nose. “The peanut butter one.”

It was your favorite. 

“Yeah but then you can’t have any,” you say so nonchalantly, looking down at the menu. 

His eyebrows knit together. “What?”

“‘Cause of your allergy.”

He stops. 

You stop. 

He has a peanut allergy. Chan has a peanut allergy. 

His lips purse like he’s going to say something but you beat him to the punch. 

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out. “I… I don’t know why I thought that.” Your hands grip the menu a little tighter. “Maybe I’m thinking of someone else?”

Chan shakes his head. “No, no, it’s okay. I… I do have a peanut allergy. Maybe I said something before?”

You stare at him for a long second before looking back down at the menu once more. “Yeah… um. Maybe.”

He definitely did not say something. 

Dinner continues on. Chan listens to you talk and pretends he’s never heard your stories before and he tells you ones he knows he’s said before. 

The entire time, you were beaming at him, just like you used to before the accident. Your face never loses its constant happy glow. He’s not sure that the muscles in your face know how to frown.  

You’re the last two people in the restaurant. The staff doesn’t seem to mind. Maybe they recognize you both. Maybe. 

A lull dips into your conversation. Both of you know you should leave. Neither wants to. Especially the broken man sitting across from you. 

Chan takes the last sip of his drink. The bill has been paid for about an hour at this point. You’re looking down at your lap with a pink flush on your cheeks. 

You bite your lip and look up at Chan carefully. 

“Are you… are you sure I don’t know you, Chan?”

He stares at you. Did you know that you always bite your lip like that when you’re confused? 

“I just… I really feel like I know you. There’s just…” you pause, trying to find your words. He knows you want to tell him about the accident. He knows you want to say it but you don’t want to weird him out. 

What the fuck is he supposed to do? What is he supposed to tell you? 

“Something happened to me a little while ago, my brain’s been… fuzzy since then,” you explain shyly. “I know you said you don’t know me but I just… I can’t help feel like that’s not true.”

Chan’s jaw clenches, his knee bounces anxiously underneath the table. His head turns to the side in his typical nervous tick. 

Your mother’s words echo in his mind, his tongue suddenly feels like it’s swelling to the size of his mouth— making him unable to speak. Should he tell you? Is it now or never?

“I don’t mean to make it weird, Chan.”

He licks his lips and opens his mouth. 

Your phone rings. 

A sigh of relief comes from deep within Chan’s chest. 

Reluctantly, you pick up the phone and hold it to your ear. “Hello? …. No, I didn’t know…. Yeah, of course…. Sure… Yeah, see you tomorrow.”

Just as quickly as you answered the phone, you hang up. 

“Sorry,” you mumble. “Someone called out of work for tomorrow, they need me to come in.”

“Do you need to get going?” Chan asks, looking down at the time. It’s well past 10 o’clock. 

A sad smile crosses your face. “I mean… probably.” The time on your watch flashes back at you. He can tell you don’t want to go home yet. 

“Come on, Y/N, I’ll walk you home.”

Chan’s already standing up from the table, picking his jacket up off the back of his chair. You watch his movements and slowly get up, your movements screaming reluctance. 

—————————————————————

It’s three dates later when the two of you are walking down the street towards your house. It’s only a few blocks from here, but you both decide to take a tiny detour through the local park. 

“I have to say I’m a little excited to meet your friends,” you giggle. “I hope that’s not weird.”

You already have. 

“It’s not weird at all. I’m sure they’d like you.” Chan nudges your arm with his elbow, his hands staying in his pocket. 

“Changbin sounds like a blast.”

He was your favorite before.

“The two of you…” Chan thinks over his words carefully. “The two of you would definitely cause some mischief.”

And you have. 

A tiny lull of comfortable silence falls over the conversation. 

Both of you meander towards the swings. A cold wind blows through the air but neither of you react to it. 

With a tiny giggle, you sit down on one of the swings and hold onto the chains on the side. 

You are just so… you. You’re just your authentic self. Amnesia or not, you haven’t changed a bit. It’s so charming.

“I can’t remember the last time I went on the swings.” You start to move your body back and forth, not too much but enough to get the tiny thrill the toy brings. 

Chan walks up and stands next to you, his hand coming out and grabbing at the chain of the swing next to yours. 

The brightest smile stretches over your face. 

God, it really doesn’t take a lot to make you smile, does it? He guesses that means it doesn’t take a lot for him either since he smiles when you do.

He can’t help it.

He watches you move back and forth, the cold breeze kicking up a bit more and blowing dead leaves across the sidewalk. 

“What’s wrong, Chan? Allergic to swings?” you tease. 

He rolls his eyes with a smirk. “No, I just far more enjoy watching you have fun.”

Your cheeks flush. If he didn’t know you, maybe he would’ve chocked it up to the cold. But he knows the difference between your blush and the elements now. 

“You’re a smooth talker, Bang Chan.”

“It comes easy with you, Y/N L/N.”

Another laugh from you. 

“Shameless flirt.”

He puts his hand on his chest in mock hurt. “Ouch! I just speak the truth, that’s all. Not my fault I like seeing you blush.”

Every word that comes out of his mouth feels so natural. If he really thinks about it, he’s in a weirdly unique situation. Not many couples get to start over, to feel those butterflies again. But here he is, his palms starting to get sweaty as he imagines kissing you. 

Would you call it a first kiss? Maybe. 

It has been four dates. It wouldn’t be.. inappropriate to kiss you, would it? The two of you kissed on your third date a few years ago. 

He wants to kiss you so bad. 

Should he? Shouldn’t he? God, why is this so hard?

Chan reaches out and grabs the chain of your swing, pulling it to a very gentle stop. 

“Uh oh, fun police,” you tease and look up at him with a grin. 

Looking down at you, Chan allows his eyes to look over every detail of your face that he already had memorized. You haven’t changed at all except the new scar on the side of your forehead from the accident. 

It’s the same eyes, same nose, same chin that he fell in love with so long ago. 

The same asymmetrical eyes that you’re so self conscious of but he loves. Your hair is wind blown and splayed every which way. It adds a childish charm to your features. 

Very carefully, Chan moves his free hand down to cup your cheek. His warm palm soothes your ice cold face. He hears your breath catch in your throat at his touch. 

His thumb swipes over your cheek, fingertips run down the soft lines of your jawline. Eventually his thumb ends up under your chin which he tilts up. 

Your eyes sparkle. They somehow capture the light of the lamps around the playground. But they’ve always done that. 

You’re always so enchanting.

Is this a good idea? 

Is kissing you the best option? 

But does he even have the strength to stop himself now?

Almost three months without feeling your lips on his has been torture, and here he is, with you in his hands and there’s still this nagging feeling that he should stop. 

One look into your eyes quells that anxiety. 

Your eyes keep flickering down to his own lips, the shaky breath you let out is hot against his fingers. Everything feels warmer compared to the air outside. 

He can’t take it anymore. 

Chan leans down and presses his lips to yours. They’re warm and slightly chapped.

But, my god, he’s never felt anything this heavenly before. It’s like his entire body unwinds. Like a fire was lit inside his stomach. 

He moves his hand to the back of your head and keeps your lips pressed against his. Your head tilts to the side slightly. It’s just like he remembers. 

It’s just the first kiss, he can’t let himself get carried away. He can’t. 

He can’t let his fingers wind through your hair. He can’t melt into your touch on his cheek. He can’t let himself drown in your lips. 

But he is. 

He’s letting you consume his very soul in one kiss. 

How can something feel so healing yet hurt so badly at the same time? It’s like you’re ripping open a wound and bandaging it at the same time. 

No matter how hard he tries, he can’t bring his lips away from yours. Your hand slides down to caress his jawline with those soft, manicured fingers. 

Your lips open and close over his like mirror images. The feeling shoots straight down into Chan’s gut. It’s like the first time for him all over again. 

Those butterflies are going insane in his stomach. Your scent kicks up in the wind and he can’t help but take a large breath through his nose. 

God, he can’t stop himself. It feels too good. 

His hand moves from the back of your hair to cup your cheek and bring you closer. 

He immediately stops. 

Why is your face wet?

Chan pulls away from the kiss and looks down at you with concern written all over his expression. 

You’re crying. Why … why are you crying?

Your eyes open and you look at him confused. 

“Chan?” you whisper. You’re confused too. What?

“Why are you crying, Y/N?” he asks with a thick voice.

Your eyes widen and your own hand comes up to swipe at your cheeks. Sure enough, you’re met with tears. 

“I… I don’t know,” you say so quietly. “I-I’m not sure.”

Chan starts backing away, your eyes snap to focus on his. Your hand shoots up to grab at his to keep him there. You’re still so confused. 

Emotions are flying through your eyes. It almost looks like someone is clicking a light switch on and off in the back of your mind. A lightbulb is flickering in your soul like a dying neon sign in an old shop window. 

Every muscle in your face is twitching.

What’s happening?

“Channie—“ your own voice cuts off by a sob. 

Chan’s heart jumpstarts. You haven’t called him that… not in two months… that’s what you and your mother called him before the accident. 

Are you…? Are you remembering? What’s happening?

Please. 

Slowly, your hand falls from his. 

Chan stays there, unmoving like a statue. What’s happening inside your mind right now? It looks like you’re reaching and reaching for something that you can’t quite put your finger on. 

He's watching you struggle. It’s like when you can’t remember a word. It’s right there. It’s on the tip of your tongue.

You gulp, your eyes leave his and you look down at your lap. The dirt crunches under your feet as you shuffle your shoes around.

Chan swipes his thumb over your cheek, brushing away the tears. He’s biting back his own. 

“It’s okay—“ “I’m sorry—“ are both said at the exact same time. 

He knew it was coming. He knows you. But you don’t know him. Not anymore. 

But you do.

“It wasn’t the kiss. I—“ 

“It’s okay, Y/N.”

You know him. 

“Chan, I really loved the kiss.”

Chan. Not Channie. 

He brushes his thumb over your lips. “It’s okay,” he repeats gently. “You don’t have to explain.”

His other hand comes up and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Your eyes slide shut at the sensation. 

Your bottom lip quivers and you pull it into your mouth and bite it. With a tight swallow, your throat bobs. 

“It happens sometimes,” you whisper. “It’s from the accident I had.”

Chan continues to soothingly rub your skin with his thumb. Slowly, he kneels down to be in front of you rather than leaning over. 

The dirt is cold on his knee. It seeps through the fabric of his pants. He couldn’t care less. 

“You don’t have to talk about it,” he whispers back to you. 

You shake your head gently, your hands folding in your lap. “No, no. I… I want to tell you. I need to tell you. It’s been happening more and more whenever I’m around you. It’s like every touch, every word you say bounces around my brain and makes me feel the worst case of deja vu.

“Every time I’m with you I feel like I’m trying to recall a dream I had last night but I just can’t remember what it was.”

You’re rambling. You only ramble when you’re overwhelmed and scared. 

“Chan, every time I’m with you it feels like some part of me is screaming to be let out.”

Your eyes open and you stare right through him. Chan feels his heart squeeze and almost stop completely. Despite your best efforts, the tears keep coming. 

“I was in a car accident a few months ago. I had such a severe concussion that I lost the last five years of my memory.” 

How is your voice so even?

Chan’s jaw clenches. Fuck fuck fuck. 

He knows. Yes, Y/N. He knows. Fuck, does he know! If anyone fucking knows, it’s him. 

“I—“ he starts but you cut him off. 

“Please,” you choke out and take a deep breath. “And since then I’ve been getting bits and pieces of my memory back. Sometimes they’re in large chunks, other times they just … come back.

“When I try to think about my life before the accident. There’s this… person there. Someone important. Someone so, so important that it physically hurts me to think about how I don’t know who it is. They’re a constant. And I love that they’re a constant.”

Your hand comes up to clutch at your jacket right over your chest. 

More tears come out of your eyes. The whites get more pink the more they flow. 

“But I know them. I do! I know them like I know the back of my hand. I-I know they love music. I know they take milk and sugar in their morning coffee. I know they don’t get enough sleep at night.”

Louder and louder your voice gets as you grow sadder and sadder. The sobs between thoughts wrack your chest. 

Him. You’re talking about him. 

Chan’s hands hold your face gently. His thumbs can’t keep up with how much you’re crying. 

Nothing has ever hurt this bad. 

You know him. You just don’t know it’s him. 

Nevertheless, you continue. “I remember that they have the most obnoxious phone alarm in the morning. I remember the passcode to their phone is 032518. I know that they have this one black sweatshirt that I love to steal even though it’s their favorite.”

Chan’s own eyes begin watering, he can’t stop it. You know him. You know him. You’ve remembered him this whole time and you didn’t even know it. 

You reach up and grab one of his hands and place it on your heart. Underneath your jacket, he can feel your heartbeat thudding violently against your chest. 

That same heartbeat he’s been dying to listen to while you play with his hair and tell him about your day. The heartbeat he would give anything to hear as he falls asleep. His throat gets tighter and tighter. 

“I’ve been surrounded by bits and pieces of a ghost and no one wants to help me. No one will tell me anything, and I’m so confused, Chan. I can tell that there’s something that everyone is avoiding telling me.”

A gust of wind picks up through the playground. It nips at his cheeks. It’s now he realizes how many tears are falling. 

A sob tears from his throat. 

You grip his hand tighter. 

“Tell me It’s you, Chan.” You’re begging. You’re actually begging while keeping his hand pressed against your heartbeat. 

“Tell me that you’re the person that I see in my dreams. Tell me you’re the one that loves when I draw hearts on the bathroom mirror after I shower. Please tell me that you’re the one that loves the smell of lemon cookies but can’t stand the taste.”

Oh, god, Y/N.

“Tell me that you’re the one that wanted to pick me up from the party that night but I said no.”

He breaks. 

He breaks right down in front of you. Every single ounce of self control leaves his body and he grabs you out of the swing, yanking you towards his body and holding you against his chest. The emotions that were being kept at bay come out like a raging storm. 

He falls backwards into the dirt, you come crashing into him. Your arms wrap around him at the same time he wraps around you. 

Chan buries his face in your neck, one hand on the back of your head and the other firmly around your waist. 

Wails leave his mouth as he holds you to him. They’re deep and come from the very depths of his soul. The wound that’s been open for months is bleeding.  

Every lonely night. Every dinner where he cooked for two instead of one by accident. Every long day he came back to an empty apartment. It’s all coming out. 

You’re crying just as hard as he is, both of your hands gripping the back of his hoodie like a lifeline. 

Your body in his arms is like a piece of a puzzle. Like he’s the dusty one sitting on his dining room table and you finally came in and finished it. 

Weeks and weeks of grief come crashing down on him. He can’t lie anymore. Not to you. Never to you. 

“It is me,” he cries into your neck, his hand running over the back of your head, feeling your hair slip through his fingers. It’s just like he remembers. “It’s all me, Y/N, It’s me.”

Your cries get louder, your body starts shaking in his arms. 

“I’ve missed you, Y/N,” he cries harder. “Fuck, I’ve missed you so much. I missed my girl. Oh my god, I’ve missed you.”

Chan can’t pull you close enough, he can’t get you close enough to his body. You shift around and press yourself into him. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry I didn’t pick you up that night. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. I’m so sorry you got hurt.” 

Every ounce of grief is surfacing and clawing its way out of his throat. 

“I’m sorry I had to lie to you these last two weeks. I’m so sorry, Y/N. I was so broken without you. I broke the doctor’s orders. I needed to see you, Y/N.”

Despite how hard he has you gripped against him, you manage to pull away slightly. You sit up in his lap and look down at his red, tear soaked face. His eyes are puffy and his chest is sputtering with sobs. 

Both of your hands cup his cheeks and swipe away the tears the same way he did for you only a small bit ago. There’s a sad smile on your face. 

“Please don’t apologize, Channie, it’s okay. I forgive you.”

Channie. You called him Channie.

He cries harder and buries his face into your chest. Your arms immediately come around him and keep him there, fingers threading into his hair. 

You’re still crying. Both of you are. 

“I know you were just doing what you were told to,” you whisper into his hair. He can hear your voice reverberate in your chest. 

All he can do is cry. 

Months of build up led to this moment. Endless days of going through the motions just for the next to be as dull and tedious led to him falling into you in the middle of a playground at night. 

The only thing you do after that is hold him. You press kisses to the top of his head and whisper that you forgive him over and over. 

Each one adds a stitch to the wound, shutting it.

You’re finally in his arms. You’re finally back where you belong. 

“I missed you,” he says again, his cries dying down. He doesn't know what else to say. There's so much he wants to tell you, but everything dies on the tip of his tongue.

“I missed you too, Channie. My heart missed you so much.”

He sniffles and looks up at you. You pull your sweatshirt sleeve up and wipe away his stray tears gently. 

“Every day it just felt like something was missing. It was you. You were missing.”

Chan can’t find any words to say. He just stares at you. 

"I don't care how long it takes to remember, or even if I never do. I need you by my side for it, Chan."

His eyes sparkle at you for a moment but he leans up and captures your lips with his once more. It feels even better than the previous one.

The two of you relish in the contact, holding each other close and clinging to the closeness of it all.

It's taking everything within Chan not to start crying again. He's worried than any moment now, he'll wake up and this will all be some cruel dream.

But when you pull away from his lips, and he opens his eyes-- you're still there. You're still in his arms and smiling at him like you always did.

The burn is soothed.

“If you think about it,” you start with a tiny smile. “We’re lucky— in a way.”

His entire face screws up, even more confused. “Lucky?”

“How many people get to say they fell in love with the same person twice?”

Chan blinks twice before it feels like his entire body thaws. 

You and your glass half full attitude. He’ll never fucking get enough of it. 

His arms wrap around you again, bringing you down into his chest. You let out a breathy giggle 

“You’re never leaving my sight,” he breathes out. “Never again, baby, never.”

You remember being seven years old, sitting on the floor of your bedroom, while your mom brushed your hair. It was a late July night, a cold breeze swaying your white curtains, akin to the fluttering of a butterfly’s wing. Your eyes were slightly puffy, delicate red veins protruding the white of them. You had just finished watching a Disney movie- the Lion King; heavy sobs escaping your lips when Mufasa died.

There were still faint hiccups coursing through you, a slight shake in your hands as you fiddled with the hem of your shirt. Your mom brought you to her chest, her chin resting on your small shoulder blade. "You’re sensitive, my sweet girl" she had uttered, rubbing your arms soothingly.

It was the first time someone described you as such. You didn’t know what ‘sensitive’ entailed exactly, but it contained the word ‘sense’, so you assumed it was something good, a quality to be proud of you. You could sense, maybe more than others, maybe too deeply. That’s why you cried when you didn’t get a good grade, or when your friends left you alone in the park.

But you didn't mind back then. What was your heart made for if not to feel?

You should’ve paid more attention to the way your mom spoke, to the bittersweetness lingering in her tone. As if she knew exactly what it entailed to be sensitive- to have your heart overflow with delicate feelings for the rest of your life, with no safe destination to guard them in.

☄༄

You’ve forgotten the last time you cried in.

The tears are lodged inside your throat- you can clearly feel them, an uncomfortable weight sitting on your vocal cords, rendering them impossible to use.

You used to cry, freely, so much that you lost count of how much it happened. But you realized that every tear that escaped your eyes, made you vulnerable, weaker, in the hands of the people around you. Every tear that washed over you, only rendered you more transparent for everyone to peer at how they wounded your soul. 

So, you conditioned yourself to stop feeling as deeply, or at least to stop showing it. The sadness, the hurt, the anger were all stored within you; but your face remained placid, not betraying how you truly felt. You were like a pond, tranquil at the surface, raging from within.

But on days like this one, you miss the person you were. When the implications of being sensitive still haven’t weighed down on you. When you could get rid of your feelings in the essence of your tears. When you didn’t yet feel bad for feeling.

Chan's eyes are on you, as you type furiously on your laptop. Your vision is so blurry that you can no longer see your lit screen. But you’re afraid that if you pause then Chan would ask if you were okay, and you hated that question. Because you never truly knew the answer to it. Yes, you were okay. But you haven’t cried in six months and your friend didn’t greet you back this morning and you suddenly feel very small in a very large library.

"Hey," Chan taps your hand with his pen and you suck in a slight breath, before raising your head to meet his eyes. "Are you-" he starts but you’re quick to cut him off, knowing exactly where this was headed. "Did you answer question five? I’m stuck on what formula to use."

Chan raises a brow at you, and you blink repeatedly. His eyes travel to your feet tapping furiously against the floor, and he understands.

 "I'm still at number four," he finally says and you nod in relief. You’ve been close friends for a year and Chan has come to know you- he’s dropping the subject.

"Oh, and are you coming to the party tonight?" Chan asks, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He’s hosting it and there is hope twinkling in his eyes. You feel bad because you’re about to crush it.

"No, need to revise more for the upcoming test."

"Of course, you’ll still be buried in your books," a sarcastic voice quips up, and you stiffen inwardly. Han- one-third of 3racha, Chan’s self-made producing group, and the bane of your existence. You never liked who you were around Han, he brought out the worst in you. Made all your insecurities roar forward, plastered across your body in neon red.

He was friends with Chan, long before you came into the picture, back into their high school days when Han skipped a class and ended up in the same one as Chan’s. A genius, as everyone around you liked to call him. And they were right- excelling came easily to Han, in everything he ever did. Even tapping into each one of your tender nooks and crannies.

He knew how to expertly push your buttons, how to make his tone sound mocking, and taunting, but only to you. Because you were sensitive, and he knew it, finding it almost amusing to toy with you. 

You decide to stay silent because nothing good ever comes out of talking back to him. So, you bite your tongue, turning back to look at your screen. But Han’s elbow grazes your arm, as he leans a bit further into your face. "Come on, live a little, y/n. You’re missing out on the college experience," he makes a big show of opening his arms wide, a single red pen spinning between his fingers. "Quit being stuck up for one night." And it spins, and it spins, and it spins and something ugly inside you crumbles.

"I’m sorry I wasn’t born with a golden spoon shoved down my throat and I actually have to work for my future."

Han’s eyes widen at the raw animosity in your voice, before narrowing down promptly. He’s leaning onto your face again, and his tone is low and cold when he speaks again. "What did you just say to me?"

"Is it so hard to grasp that not everyone is as privileged as you? We can’t all afford to get wasted every fucking night and call it a life."

You’re being mean. This is the rudest you’ve ever been to someone else. You know that your reaction is disproportionate to what he said. But it isn’t just about this instant. It’s an amalgam of every moment Han made you feel small in, because you don’t go out as much as him, because you don’t understand as quickly as him. Taunts thrown your way under the guise of teasing, but you know better.

Still, guilt eats at you as your eyes lock with Chan’s. You should’ve stayed silent, as you’ve been diligently doing for the past year.

"How do you stand being her friend Chan? Is it out of pity?" Han muses, a pout pulling at his lips. You stare ahead as Han tsks lightly, before tapping your cheek with his pen, bringing your face back to him. "I think it is. Because isn’t she so fucking boring?"

Being near Han always makes you hyper-aware of things you never noticed before. Like how a breath has to travel from the depths of your body so you’d be able to release it, and how excruciatingly long it takes for you to draw in a new one. Because Han’s words are never harmless, no, they settle on the confines of your lungs, crushing down any bit of oxygen willing to leave you.

You've had enough.

"When you’re eighty, on your deathbed, and all alone. I hope you know that there is no one around to blame but yourself."

"Don’t cross the line, yn," Chan finally speaks and you scoff, as you get up to grab your things.

"What fucking line, Chan? So, he can insult me all day but as soon as I do it there is a line? Why are you taking his side?"

Chan stays silent and you chuckle dryly. "Of course, you are. You’re only friends with me out of pity after all."

"That’s not true-"

"Well, you didn’t deny it, did you Chan?"

"Yn, I-"

"Save it."

Han’s eyes are glossy as you take one final glance at him. But your heart’s bleeding too much for you to care about his minor cut.

☄༄

For how much time can a conversation haunt someone? Seventeen days, for your case. And you're still counting.

You have nit-picked your fight with Han in the library so much that it's driving you insane. His voice is drilled into your head- the coldness of it as he reeled back from the shock of your words, and then, the pure venom dripping from his tone, as he attacked you where it hurt the most. Chan.

Han chose his words carefully, stitched up the sentence perfectly to hurt you, to stick to your flesh like burnt skin, one that you peeled over and over, each time it threatened to scar.

You haven't talked to Chan in seventeen days. He tried to stop you; on your way out of class, in the line of your campus cafeteria, on the doorsteps of your dorm. But you always fleet away. His eyes were also imprinted into your brain- the disappointment in them when you clapped back at Han.

What about him? You wanted to yell. Why are you only disappointed in me?

But the tears in your pillow have dried. Then fallen again. Then dried once more. And you found the answer to question five. And you miss Chan, terribly so.

That's why you're pacing around his dorm, at 10 pm, when it's also terribly cold outside. Your fingers have gone numb from the ministrations of the wind, but you don't move from your place. You know that the chances of seeing Han- the second person you’ve been avoiding like the plague- would be higher here. But you didn't care anymore.

Your thumb hovers over the call button and you bite your lip harshly. Would Chan pick up? Would he hang up? Was he really your friend out of pity?

"Yn?" a voice calls out, and you startle, turning around to see who it is. Changbin, carrying two bags of groceries in his hand. He's Chan’s friend as well, the final member of 3racha. You like Changbin. He's always being very kind to you. You've grown much closer to him than to Han in the past few months; not that the latter has ever wanted a friendship with you. From the day you met and his eyes narrowed promptly each time you talked. You should’ve known from the start.

"Why are you out here in the cold?" Changbin asks gently, stepping cautiously towards you.

"Chan," you say simply and he nods, understanding what you mean.

"He's not here now, but he'll come home soon. Let's go inside, okay?" he smiles tentatively at you and you hum in reply.

Changbin opens the door and you follow inside. You help him take out the groceries silently, stacking them in their fridge and shelves. Lots of protein powder, and chicken packets. You'd laugh about it if you weren't so sad.

"Chan misses you," Changbin speaks up suddenly, and your heartbeat quickens at his words.

"I miss him too."

"Then you'll be okay."

You try to remember Changbin’s reassuring smile when Chan finally opens the door to the dorm, an hour later. He finds you sitting on the stool in the kitchen. His eyes light up once they settle on you.

And you unravel at the sight.

You're crying, sobs rippling from you as he brings you to his chest. He's patting your head and whispering that it's okay. And you know his shirt is all crumpled from clutching it in your hands. But he doesn't mind. He only hugs you tighter.

"I'm sorry, yn. So, so, sorry. I should've stopped him before, I just... You two are my best friends and I didn't want to add fuel to the fire by talking and-"

"It's okay, it's okay, I'm the one who should apologize for ghosting you."

"I understand why you did it. I fucked up but I missed you so much. Can we please never do this again?”

“Yes please,” you giggle, but the sound withers as the door opens once again.

"What is she doing here?" a cold voice breaks you and Chan apart, as your eyes land on Han. His gaze sucks the breath out of you, and the warmth in your heart fizzles out. Your hold on Chan’s shirt tightens and he takes an unconscious step in front of your body. Han doesn't miss the protective gesture.

"Get out, yn."

"You don't get to kick my friends out of my house," Chan is angry. And you regret ever coming here.

"Last I checked it's my house too." Han doesn't even bother looking at you. He's holding Chan’s gaze as if they're silently communicating. "You know damn well what she said why-" he takes a deep breath, running a hand angrily through his hair. "Fuck this. If she's not leaving then I am."

And with that he storms out, slamming the door behind him. You flinch at the sound.

Chan’s eyebrows are knitted as he stares at where Han stood seconds ago as if trying to conjure him up once again. You never wanted to strain their friendship. You knew how much Han cared for Chan, even if he didn't bear the same sentiment for you.

"Chan, I’ll leave. Call Han and tell him I'm gone."

"You don't have to."

"I know," you reassure, placing your hand on his forearm. "We'll talk more later, okay? It's cold and he has nowhere to go. Just call him, please."

"Fine," Chan concedes. "Call me when you get home, alright?" his eyes finally soften and you squeeze his hand in reply, before heading out as well.

The walk from Chan’s dorm to yours is fairly short, but tonight, it seems like kilometers are separating you from the safety of your bed. There is a heavy weight crushing your bones, most of it being guilt at what just transpired between Chan and Han.

That's what comes with being sensitive- you bear the weight of your feelings and the one of those surrounding you.

Were you out of place with what you said to Han? Yes. Was it eating you inside to see the consequences of your words? Yes. But he was also to blame, you repeated in your head. He was also to blame. Please. You plead, you don't know to whom, maybe to the voice in your head to stop being so mean. 'But none of this would've happened if you weren't so sensitive. So easy to bruise' the voice mocks and you stumble on your feet.

It happens so suddenly it takes you off guard- the way the breath is knocked out of you. You pause, chest heaving as you bend down slightly. Your hand is on your heart as you try to breathe again, but it's shaking so much. Your legs give out under you, and you plop down on the floor, eyes tightly shut. You can't breathe. You can't breathe. You're going to pass out.

"Yn, what-" A hand rests on your shoulder but you shake it off. You don't want to be touched. Not by him.

"Let me help-" Han speaks again, and you scramble away from him, as best as you can anyway. You end up kneeling on the ground once again, your back to him. "Get-get away."

"I know you're mad but you aren't okay and I know how horrib-"

"You aren't helping!" you shout through tears, as your heart threatens to spill out of your throat. "You’ve hurt me e-enough already."

You don't remember how you got home that night, how you managed to open the door or cross the road leading to your dorm. But you remember Han leaving you on the cold ground, just like you wanted. You remember the ache in your bones as you laid on your bed; the burning desire to stop feeling for a night, to cut your chest open and tear off your bleeding heart.

☄༄

One month later

If there's one thing you've always complained to Chan about, it's the fact that his building had an elevator in it, unlike yours.

Today, you’ve come to regret this fact. Tremendously.

You’ve been avoiding going to Chan’s dorm for the past weeks since the last thing you wanted was to see Han. But, he insisted on you coming over, reassuring you that it would only be him and Changbin at home since Han supposedly had other plans.

Well, Chan was wrong. Because Han just walked into the elevator you are in, mere moments before its doors closed.

Your breath catches in your throat as his eyes lock on yours. He looks like he wants to say something but he decides against it, opting for sighing loudly instead, before pressing the button leading to the fourth floor, rather harshly.

Your need to flee has never been this strong.

You watch anxiously as the numbers slowly go up. 1… 2… 3… Then a loud voice startles you and the elevator starts to shake in place. The door is suddenly opened and you are met with a cement wall, blocking your exit.

"What the fuck?" Han groans as you press the emergency button repeatedly, hoping that the elevator will resume its course and this nightmare will be forgotten.

It doesn’t.

"You’re going to break the goddamn button," Han pushes your hand away and you stumble away from him.

"Can you shut up? I’m not in the mood for your bullshit."

"Does it look like I’m happy to be here?" Han scoffs, as a ringtone plays in the elevator, cutting you off before you could respond. 

"Hey guys, this happens from time to time, so no need to worry. Is everyone alright?" Someone speaks and you assume it's the worker charged with the maintenance of the elevator.

"Yes," you both reply at the same time.

"Great. We’ve contacted the mechanics but they said there’s a lot of traffic, so it might take a bit longer for them to get here."

"How long?" Han asks the question that’s on your mind as well.

"Two hours, at most, for you to get out."

"Oh, for fuck’s sake," you groan, as hot tears prickle at the corner of your eyes. This is the last thing you needed today- to be stuck in a cramped-up space with the one person who sucks the oxygen out of any room you’re in.

"Thanks, man," Han sighs and you turn your back to him, facing the wall. You’ve had a horrible day, scratch that, a horrible week. Hanging out with Chan and Changbin was the one thing you were looking forward to, only for the worst possible scenario to happen- being stuck in the same place with Han. You feel an urgent need to sob but you can’t cry in front of him. Not when he’s all claws and your skin is tender.

"Wait, are you claustrophobic?" He suddenly asks, seemingly inches away from your body.

"As if you’d fucking care," you scoff, before heading to a corner of the elevator and settling down.

"I'm not a monster, you know," he mutters in an almost sad tone, one that forces you to look up at him. His hands are deep into his pockets, eyebrows knitted as he gazes down at you. "Do you really think I’m that much of an asshole?"

"Yes," you reply instantly, before staring forward again. The hurt that flashes in his eyes shouldn’t tug at your heartstrings, but it does, ever so faintly, like the last wave that grazes your feet as you get out of the ocean. "I’m not claustrophobic," you add after a while and Han finally sits on the opposite side from you.

It’s hot and stuffy in the elevator, and it’s quiet, too quiet for your liking. You’ve never really liked silence for too long, it made the small voice in your head only grow bolder, louder, impossible to ignore.

Thirty-five excruciatingly long minutes go by and the tension only grows more suffocating. It’s simmering, barely beneath the surface, waiting for the person who will finally make it explode. 

It’s Han.

“Can I ask you something?”

“No.”

“Come on, we have nothing else to do.”

“Have you tried being silent?”

"Yn," he says sternly and you begrudgingly concede. "Fine. Ask me."

You imagine him smirking slightly, the way he does each time he manages to push you over the edge.

“Why do you hate me so much?”

“We’re not doing this right now,” you shake your head, tone adamant.

"When’s a better time for it? We’re literally never in the same place."

“And whose fault that is?” You smile too sarcastically and he frowns. “So, I’m the only one to blame?”

“Can’t you see how full of yourself you are? Fuck, Han, this is exactly what I hate about you.”

“What are you even talking about?”

“You’re so immature, you never sit back to think of how your words might impact someone.”

"What words yn? I was teasing you!" his voice grows louder and so does yours. "You were hurting me!" you yell, chest heaving. There is something utterly terrifying in this confession- to let someone know how easy it was for them to get to you.

"But I didn’t mean to," he drags a hand through his hair, exasperated. "It's not my fault you felt that way."

An ironic chuckle leaves your lips, as you point at him. "See, you're doing it again! You're blaming me for my reaction instead of evaluating how your actions might have caused it."

"Look, yn," he scrambles to you until there are only a few centimeters separating your bodies. "I really wanna fix this, okay? Can we stop screaming?"

"Why are you so hellbent on fixing it?" you question, as you lean further away from him. He notices and takes a step back, giving you space.

"Because although I don't care about you, I care about Chan. And this is hurting him. So, I want to be civil with you."

The mention of Chan feels like a cold bucket of water dousing the fire within you. You know he’s struggling to be in the middle of two people he loves. He doesn’t deserve that.

"Fine," you sigh softly. “You talk. I’ll listen.”

"I didn't... I didn't know that my words would hurt you. In truth, it looked like you weren't affected at all. That's why I kept pushing you because… God Yn you're so perfect it maddens me."

Your eyebrows knit together at his words- the last thing you expected to stumble out of his mouth. "What are you talking about?"

"You never get sad, never get angry. Your emotions are always in check. You're always smiling, always laughing. Have everything figured out from how you want to be now to where you want to be in the future. And you know yourself, you never step out of order. And this is selfish and stupid but it irked me. Because I am the opposite of you. I'm a mess and too human it terrifies me, so I wanted to see if you had a breaking point. But each time I taunted you, you remained placid. So, I kept pushing to see if you'd break one day because, selfishly enough, that would make me feel better about how broken I am."

"Han, you're so stupid. Aren't you a literal genius? You excel in everything you do and you have fun on top of it, every single night. Don't you realize how lucky you are?"

"Do you really believe I find joy in being wasted and not even remembering what happened that night? I do that because I'm in my mind most of the days and it isn't the best place to be in. So, I like to forget."

“Why do you think I always bury myself in my studies? Because it's safe and it makes me forget too. Did you really think I didn’t feel? I feel too much and that’s the problem.”

Han remains silent as you curse under your breath. "Do you even realize how selfish this is? To test a human's breaking point? All because what? I didn't shove my struggles down your nose? Would you go around and do this to everyone who looked fine to you?"

"I know, I know, I was just in a bad place, and this isn't an excuse but I... I felt as if you were just showing me everything that was wrong with me."

"That is how I felt around you," you chuckle bitterly and he hangs his head low. He’s much quieter when he speaks again. “I guess we’re more similar than I thought.”

"Doesn't excuse what you did. You targeted me and made me feel insane because no one was hearing the hostility in your tone like I did."

"I know, I know. I'm sorry. I really am. I never thought it'd get this bad and I deserve every name you called me."

"You do." You close your eyes, as Han’s words wash over you. There is so much more you want to say, so much you want to spit out in his face because of his selfish coping mechanism. But you also want peace, for Chan’s sake. So, you try to bury your resentment, just like you do with every other feeling. One day it’ll turn into indifference. You’ll make sure of it.

You bite your lip, before clearing your throat. Your tone is softer when you speak again. "I'm sorry for what I told you in the library. About you dying alone and whatnot. That wasn't nice of me."

"You really hit the nail with that one," Han chuckles quietly, and guilt floods your heart at the expression on his face. "And I'm sorry for calling you boring. You aren't. And for everything I said before that."

"Okay. It's okay." You reassure, a tiny smile drawn on your lips.

He nods before a sly grin grows on his face. "Should we hug it out?" he teases, cocking an eyebrow at you and you stare pointedly at him. "Don't push your luck."

"Yes, ma'am."

An hour later, the mechanics finally manage to get the elevator going, which in turn allows you both to get out. Han opens the door to the dorm, and you find Chan lying on the couch, scrolling down his phone.

"Han? I thought you would..." he starts before trailing off as he looks up. "Yn? Where were you, I’ve been calling you for the past two hours."

"I didn't have signal."

"Why where were-" Chan goes to question before stopping once again. He hurriedly stands up and walks toward you.

"You... Are standing next to one another."

"We are," Han replies, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

"And you aren't... Fighting?" his statement comes out more like a question, which makes both you and Han chuckle.

"We aren't."

"We talked it out, in the elevator which we were both just stuck in," you add and Chan’s eyes grow wide, as a breathtaking smile breaks out on his face.

"Oh my god. Finally. We'll talk about the elevator bit later but it's been so hard trying not to be in the same place as the both of you."

"We know. We're sorry," you both pout in sync and Chan shakes his head, before opening his arms wide. You giggle, before walking to him and sinking into his embrace. Han follows you shortly after, and your eyes meet behind Chan’s back. He shoots you a tiny thumbs up.

Is this how a dandelion feels, you wonder, when someone blows on it in the hopes it'll grant their selfish wishes. Only to be tossed away afterward, lifeless.

You drown out the thought before smiling back at Han. It doesn’t reach your eyes.

☄༄

Befriending two-thirds of 3racha holds within it a lot of privileges. The first one is listening to unreleased music, the second is having exclusive insight into their upcoming performances.

Their gigs don't happen as often as they'd like, because they're still students who unfortunately have lots of assignments. But when a window of free time materializes, they unveil their latest productions at vibrant parties, dimly lit bars, or even the occasional club. Which attracts a lot of people, some even coming from neighboring towns to listen to them play.

Everyone can recognize raw talent, even if rap doesn't happen to be their favorite genre.

This is how you know that they'll be performing Heyday, their latest creation, at Seungmin’s party. You've met him in passing, and Chan insisted that you'd come. Not that you needed much convincing anyway, you fell in love with this song the minute you heard it.

There is an exhilarating energy in Seungmin’s mansion, a palpable anticipation preceding 3racha’s performance, as you all gaze at the makeshift stage. The place is packed, bodies pressed tightly to one another. You feel slightly uncomfortable but you swallow it down. You're here to support Chan first and foremost, you can leave if things become too much for you.

The introductory chords materialize abruptly, and 3racha takes the stage. Chan is clad in a white shirt with huge gaps on his sides, revealing glimpses of his chest each time he bends down. Changbin, on the opposite end of the spectrum, is wearing a tightly fitted black shirt, hugging each muscle of his to perfection. Han, the last one to walk in, sports a loose black shirt, with a low neckline. His nails are painted to match the color of his attire, you notice.

The song kicks off with Changbin's incendiary rap as deafening cheers ring all around you. You make sure to scream on top of your lungs too, as Changbin’s loud voice commands the attention of everyone in the room. You’ve always held a penchant for his rap style- how powerful he sounds, and how addicted you quickly become to hearing him on stage. You remember once telling him that any song that starts with his rapping is a successful hit. He playfully nudged your shoulder but his appreciative smile was hard to miss.

Chan’s part is next and you try to rap along, as best as you can anyway due to your fleeting memory. It sounds mostly like gibberish but you don’t mind, especially when your eyes meet Chan’s and he grins at you, before morphing into the mesmerizing stage persona that's peculiar to him. You clearly remember the first time you witnessed him on stage, and how enthralled you were by the sheer power he exuded. His destiny was intertwined with music, no one could deny that. 

A bed squeaking sound comes next, followed by the knocking on the door and you giggle against your will. That was Han’s ingenious touch, as Chan had shared when you'd raised a quizzical brow at him while listening. “Is this based on a real-life experience?” You asked, a knowing smirk etched upon your features, and he pretended to zip his mouth, earlobes turning a vibrant shade of crimson.

Han finally starts rapping in his inimitable style, exuding an effortless, laid-back aura. Your gazes meet at the "let's go play" line, and he tilts his head quizzically at you as he utters his confused "huh?". You raise one eyebrow at him prompting a sly smirk from him, before redirecting his attention to the opposite side of the stage. Yet, your eyes remain on him throughout his entire part.

The boys step off the stage, and you watch from the corner of the room with a wide grin as a swarm of people surrounds them. Congratulations and praise fill the air, and you can tell that 3racha thrives on this moment- it's what they live for, what makes their souls rise up from the ashes. 

Chan catches your eye, and you applaud enthusiastically, letting out a happy giggle. He blows you a kiss, and you playfully pretend to catch it, eliciting a small shake of his head. Changbin, who's standing near him, catches the exchange and winks at you from a distance, to which you respond with two thumbs up.

Even though you're a bit far from them, you're certain the boys can sense the pride radiating from you in waves. There's something truly magical about humans existing in their element, particularly people you care about.

Your gaze shifts to Han, and your smile falters slightly. He's also glowing, but signs of discomfort are starting to creep onto his face. You recognize them fairly well, as you've felt them too at times when emotions become overwhelming. So, after a brief internal debate, you decide to act and begin making your way toward him, pushing through the crowd despite the rising complaints behind you.

They fall on deaf ears.

You grab Han's forearm, pulling him with you through the sea of bodies toward the bathroom. He doesn't fight, following diligently behind you. You open the door and pull him inside, pausing as you realize you don't have a specific plan for bringing him here. This is also the first time you've been alone together since the elevator conversation.

"Thank you," Han whispers, and you nod, your eyes softening. "I'm okay, I love performing, I just needed a breather," he quickly adds, as if feeling guilty for being overwhelmed. 

"That's completely understandable. You are running on a lot of adrenaline, and the room is so crowded," you say with a smile, turning to the mirror to touch up your makeup.

Han remains silent for a while as you powder your face, before reapplying your cherry lip gloss. You can hear him taking in deep breaths, and you avoid looking at him, worried he might feel embarrassed.

"What did you think of the performance?" he finally asks, and you raise your head slightly. You lock eyes with him through the mirror, as he leans against the door, arms crossed in front of his chest. His black t-shirt falls a bit, revealing more of his bare skin, and your eyes trail down for a moment.

"It was really good. I think this song might be my favorite of all yours."

"Really?" Han grins, his words filled with an excitement that warms your heart despite yourself. He's just received heaps of compliments from hundreds of people, yet your words still seem to affect him deeply.

"Yes. I loved your rap, how it started in a laid-back manner, and then you cleared your throat and picked up the pace. It added a unique edge to the song."

"Thank you, really," his smile is genuine, and you giggle softly, shaking your head.

"What's funny?" he asks, walking up to you. You're still facing the mirror, and he's now only inches away from you.

"I didn't imagine you'd appreciate my compliment this much."

"It feels sincere," he shrugs and you nod, finally turning around and leaning against the sink.

"It is sincere."

"Good."

You hold his gaze, eyes only trailing down to go across his face. He looks far different from how he did on stage. Shier, more eager for praise.

"You have..." he steps up until the scent of his cologne tickles your nose. His hand raises ever so slowly to your face, and you hold your breath, as he picks up something from your cheek. His hands are warm.

"An eyelash fell. Make a wish."

A surprised chuckle escapes your lips. "You wish on fallen lashes?"

"You wish on everything when you need hope." his voice is low, a timber so foreign to your ears it sends shivers down your spine. So, you close your eyes, wishing for your heart to quit beating so fast.

"Done," you whisper and he blows the single lash away, his gaze still on you.

"Thank you for coming."

"Of course. I had to support Chan and Changbin." It slips from your mouth before you can stop it, and Han slightly recoils from your words.

"Right, them. Yeah. Of course," he finally backs away, and oxygen fills your lungs once again. "I'm good now. Should we go out?"

"After you," you nod tightly and he walks ahead first, his perfume trailing after him and pulling you into a dizzying dance. 

☄༄

The party Seungmin hosted was your last time having fun for a while. Your preparation for midterm exams began soon after, and you found yourself swarmed with assignments left and right. Thankfully, you and Chan were going through it at the same time, which meant you met at the library each day, revising silently near one another.

Except this time, you were joined by Han.

Goosebumps ran across your skin as he pulled the chair next to you, not the good kind of shivers. You were reminded of the fight you had right here, three months ago. Which still left a bitter taste in your mouth.

You don't hate Han anymore. He's actually funny, and you enjoy listening to his ramblings when you go over to Chan's dorm. He's also really different in his home, much quieter, and softer. Much more like you.

But you're also human, and there is still a part of your brain sending off warning signals at his presence. Maybe because the hurt was never buried properly. You just brushed it off under the carpet after your elevator conversation. Most of it was spent shouting anyway.

"Hey," he greets and you just nod in reply. You can feel his gaze linger on you a bit after that, and a pang of guilt twists in your heart. "Hi," you finally reply, but you tune out his response. Why is it that you're sensitive to everyone's emotions but your own?

Twenty minutes go by, then forty, and you can no longer take the uncomfortable feeling clinging to your skin. So, you excuse yourself, hurriedly stepping out of the library.

Han follows you; you can tell it’s him because someone's chair scraped loudly against the floor as soon as you stood up, and that couldn't be Chan because he is always careful with the silence in the library. So, you put on your headphones and walk faster.

This is childish, surely it is, but you can't control your emotions. You've apologized and so did he, you talk from time to time and you even held his arm and took him to a quiet bathroom. So where is all this bitterness coming from?

"Dammit, yn, how are you so fast?" Han grabs your arm pausing you. He's panting slightly and you just blankly stare as he takes in a deep breath.

"Are you okay?" he finally asks and you nod, turning around to walk away. He stops you again.

"I made you uncomfortable, didn't I?" he asks quietly, and you sigh, rubbing your forehead wearily.

"You didn't do anything, I just... Being in that library reminded me of certain things."

"I know. Me too. Can we please talk?"

"We are talking," you raise your brows and he stares pointedly at you. "Come on you know what I mean."

"Fine," you giggle, "we can talk."

"I didn't apologize properly to you in the elevator. Truth is, I did it because Chan was mad at me and I couldn't stand it anymore."

The bitterness- you understand where it comes from now.

"But I am sorry. Truly sorry. I was selfish and I hurt you and this will sound like a joke, but I hate hurting people. I really do. I was just too wrapped up in my problems that I didn't realize how it would affect you and I'm sorry, I'm really sorry. I also shouldn't have tried to kick you out that day, but dying alone is my biggest fear, and seeing you in my home made me want to lose my mind because I couldn't get what you said out of my head, but it was so cold outside and again I shouldn't have told you to go out and I am so sorry-"

"Han, breathe," you smile, cutting him off and Han sucks in a deep breath, chest slightly heaving from talking uninterrupted for a minute straight.

"I'm sorry I just wanted to apologize, properly this time. I'm doing it because I'm guilty, not because of Chan. Nothing excuses my behavior, I know. And I wish I could turn back in time and actually get to know you because you're really cool and very nice, but I can't. All I can do is apologize. So I'm sorry, Yn. I really am."

"I appreciate it," you smile, and Han exhales a little from relief. "I didn't know that was your biggest fear, but even if it wasn't, that was uncalled for. I shouldn't have said something so mean. So, I'm sorry for it too. But I'm not apologizing for being mad, you deserved that."

"I did, I did, I know." He's quick to agree. "I don't want us to be awkward around one another. I'm not telling you that you have to be my best friend but, we can be friends, right? But you also don't have to. It's enough if you forgive me and... You know what? Never mind forget I said anything, I'm just nervous and-"

"Okay."

"Okay?" he repeats.

"We can be friends. I accept your truthful apology."

"Actually?"

"Yes."

"Like we can start over?" he grins and you chuckle at the excitement in his face. "Yes."

"Can we hug it out?"

"Too soon," you pout and he nods, a faint blush dusting his cheek.

"Right. Should we go back to the library? I saw that you were stuck on a question. I can help you."

"You won't make any comments?"

"No. Pinky promise." he outstretches his pinky towards you and you muse over it for a bit, before wrapping your finger around his. You grin at Han- your first genuine smile since he's known you. His hold on your pinky falters.

"Okay. I'm in."

.☄༄

Five weeks later- 1:13 a.m.

You were still slightly cautious near Han as if you were both threading along an invisible line. You could talk, but not too much, afraid any old animosity would shine through. And you could stay together, but not too long, in case it gets awkward and you wouldn't know what to do. So, you never mixed, just like water and oil, each of you knowing their place, away from the other.

But you still didn't want to miss out on outings with your friends. So, when Chan invites you for a movie night with Han, and Changbin, you don't say no.

The night runs smoothly, the warm beer you had easing your nerves bit by bit. It was also easier to forget that you once hated Han when he brought tears to your eyes from laughing so hard.

2:56 a.m.

An unbearable heat suddenly envelopes you, your very blood boiling from within. You hesitantly look down, to find your entire body bathed in red, as if your skin had melted away, exposing you to the scorching heat embracing your tender flesh.

You are in the heart of a volcano, with lava bubbling dangerously below. Hanging by a frail thread, you dangle over the edge of death.

And then, you plummet. 

You startle awake, your heart pounding in your chest, your hand clutching it tightly. Cold sweat clings to your skin, and it takes you a few moments to realize that you're safe, far from the inside of the volcano that had threatened to consume you.

You glance at your phone- 3:43 a.m. You read. It's only been a mere hour since you went to sleep. You don't think you could drift back into slumber. 

Dragging a hand tiredly across your face, you walk into the pitch-black kitchen. You pour yourself a glass of water, hoping that the icy drink will cool you down. You are safe.

"What are you-" you startle, dropping the glass and spinning around, hand pressed to your heart.

"Han, fuck, you scared me," you sigh, tugging at your hair slightly and he's quick to your side, a string of hushed apologies tumbling from his lips.

"I'm sorry, here let me clean it up," he kneels and you follow suit, grabbing his hands and gently pushing them away. "No, I dropped it, let me clean," you reassure, but your hands are trembling as you pick up the shards of glass, any bit of logic clouded by your racing thoughts.

Your heartbeat's ringing loudly in your ears, you barely register the glass cutting your skin until an uncharacteristic warmth oozes from your hand. Blood.

"Shit," you curse lowly and Han illuminates the place with his phone flashlight. "Did you cut yourself?" he asks and you shake your head, walking over to the sink.

"It's nothing, don't worry."

"Yn, let me see," he's standing behind you, the ghost of his breath grazing your exposed neck.

"Han, really it's-" he cuts you off, grabbing your forearm and walking you over to the couch. He finally turns on the lights before crouching down in front of you.

"Show me?" he asks gently and you're too tired to fight him. You open your palm tentatively, taking a look at your cut for the first time as well. It's not too deep, it won't require stitches. But it's also not shallow, blood oozing from it at a steady rhythm.

Han simply frowns upon gazing at your wound, before walking over to his room. You don't move from your spot, gaze lost into the space before you. What would happen if you never woke up? Would you feel your flesh burning? Bones melting as the searing lava-

"Here," he gently holds your wrist, as his eyes meet yours. "This will hurt a bit. Hold my arm as tight as you want and tell me if it becomes too much, okay?"

"Okay," you simply nod.

He dabs up your cut with a cotton pad soaked in alcohol. You hiss softly, as the liquid burns your open skin. Han abruptly stops at the sound. "Did I hurt you? I'm so sorry I didn't mean to I just-"

"It's okay," you smile reassuringly, "I can handle it."

Han nods, resuming his treatment. He's even softer this time, if that is even possible. He's careful when he rubs a soothing gel on your cut, before wrapping your palm in a gauze. He can't find a pair of scissors so he cuts it with his teeth, his lips brushing against the back of your hand. You account the warmth you're suddenly feeling to the aftermath of your nightmare.

"Why are you even up?" he finally asks as he settles next to you on the couch, eyes looking up to the ceiling.

"Nightmare."

"You’re okay?" he asks gently and he sounds truly concerned for your well-being. You aren't used to this. To Han acting like a friend to you. But it feels nice to be cared for, so you don't mind him blurring the lines tonight.

"I'm still a little bit scared," you admit sheepishly and Han's eyes soften under the dim moonlight.

"It passed. You're okay now."

"Am I?" you drag a hand tiredly across your face and Han frowns, inching closer to you.

"Is it a recurring dream?"

"Mm. It tires me out."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, I just want to forget." 'Help me forget' you want to add, but you decide against it. "Why were you up, anyway?"

"I got inspiration for lyrics so I had to write it down."

"Can you share some with me?" you ask, tone a tad too hopeful. Han catches it and smiles warmly at you.

"Sure. This is probably going to be in the chorus..." he pulls out his phone, heading to his notes app. "This is what I have so far... I let my frustrated screams out hoping that they’d be washed away in the rain. I send it off with a smiling face, down to the last drops left on my fingertips." he pauses, scrolling down a bit more. "I also wrote this; I think it'll be nice in a verse... I’m sure it’ll get better... Just like the earth hardens after the rain and flowers bloom again."

"You're such a talented lyricist Han," you whisper in awe, and Han’s cheeks warm up at your words, reminiscent of a setting sun. "But I also wish it was as easy as this. To let out all the emotions you bottle inside and for them to wash away with the rain." You bite your lip, as Han’s words echo in your head. "I think... I think that's why I get this nightmare. I don't free my emotions anymore, and they show up in my dreams to torment me."

You don't know where these bouts of honesty are coming from. Maybe because you're too weary to keep up a happy facade. Or maybe because you know that the person who wrote these lyrics must understand exactly how you feel.

"Well... It's raining." Han whispers after a while and you look at him, confusion plastered across your features.

"And?"

"Should we test it out?"

"Test what?"

"Screaming under the rain," he says as if it's the most evident thing in the world.

"What? That's insane, Han we will get sick and..." You pause, as the words dissolve in your mouth like the seafoam meeting the shore. "You know what? Let's do it!"

"Really?" he asks incredulously, a huge grin on his face.

"Yes!"

"Okay, let's go!"

You both abruptly stand up, still only clad in your pajamas. You quickly slip your shoes on before running outside. The rain envelops you in a cold hug as soon as you step outside, rain droplets trickling down your clothes. You don't mind, you have lots of bottled-up feelings to free. 

"This needs music," Han smiles as he takes out his phone, putting his playlist on shuffle. 'Let The Light In' starts playing, and you shoot him a thumbs-up.

"It fits the rainy mood," you grin and he nods, squinting his eyes to be able to look at you.

"I think if we scream here, we'll scare the neighbors."

"I know!" you chuckle, wiping away the rain droplets on your forehead. "Where should we go?"

"The empty parking lot!" Han shouts so you'll hear him over the growing rain and you nod. He takes off running and you chase after him. You're both completely drenched once you're a bit far away from the house. But you don't care. Not when there is pure adrenaline rushing through you.

You finally stop, loud giggles escaping your mouth at the thrill of what you're doing. "You should start!" you yell excitedly and Han nods, taking in deep steadying breaths.

"Okay, I'm ready!"

"On the count of three! One... Two... Three!" and Han shouts at the top of his lungs, his screams getting lost in the rain. An incredulous smile breaks out on his face as you giggle loudly, the sound of it ringing out in the downpour.

"You looked insane!"

"I feel insane!" He yells honestly and a fit of laughter takes over you both. You hold his arm to steady yourself. 

"You should try it now!" Han urges and you nod, willing yourself to calm down. 

"Okay, will you count down for me?" 

"Yes," he assures and you clap excitedly. Han can't help but smile at the excitement on your face.

"One... Two... Three!" And you shout, continuous screams spilling from the depths of your soul. Han wasn't wrong- your pain, your fear, your anger are all dripping along the rain droplets, from your bruised heart to the tip of your fingers.

You've never felt this free before.

The two of you don't notice the passage of time, the rain acting as a cathartic release to all your pent-up emotions. It was as if your pain intertwined with each rain droplet, and you were letting go of everything that had held you down. Each scream acted as a break from the burdens of the past, and the worries of the future. 

As you finally stopped, panting and soaked to the bone, you looked at each other with raw exhilaration in your eyes.

"So, how was it?" Han yells over the rain and you break out in a relieved smile. "I don't think I’ve ever been this happy my entire life," you beam at him and the sight makes the rain feel less colder to Han. 

He watches, a small smile on his face as you twirl around, face looking up toward the sky, a deluge of rain grazing your cheeks like a lover's tender touch. The smile doesn't leave your face as you spin around, happy chuckles leaving your mouth from time to time.

You look... free. As if there was an invisible weight on your shoulders that the rain washed away. A heavy burden that you carried within you, like a secret secret. He likes the sound of that. Maybe that's what he'll name his song. 

Han slightly shakes his head as he watches you skip around, clothes completely soaked. You are now standing a bit far away, right beside a street lamp.

Ooh, let the light in

Its light shines on you alone.

Time seems to slow down, as Han’s steps falter. You're smiling, not at him, but at the universe. A happiness so raw filling you that it needs to come out, even if no one's watching.

You're spinning around, delighted giggles spilling from you like the most mesmerizing chorus. Something is building up inside Han, begging for a release. It refuses to come out in a scream- violently. It's tender and soft. He thinks that if you held his hand right now, you'd be able to free it.

Look at us, you and I back at it again

Is it possible to feel something other than an emotion? Because right now, weirdly, all he feels is you.

Cause I love to love to love to love you

I hate to hate to hate to hate you

Your eyes land on Han and there is pure joy dancing in your pupils. He's glad you no longer despise him. He doesn't think he can stomach it anymore.

Cause I want to want to want to want you

You run to him, holding his hand before twirling him around.

I need to need to need to need you

Han can't believe he ever thought you weren't human enough. You are a mosaic of every feeling that makes one human. There are lyrics writing themselves in his head and they're all about you.

Ooh, let the light in

You clasp both his hands, before crossing them over. And then you're both spinning around until the world around you blurs. All he sees is you, and the light surrounding you alone.

Ooh, turn your light on

He thinks he might, if the light is you.

5:22 a.m

"There is a heater in my room, you should come," Han offers as you dry your hair with the blue towel he just handed you.

"It's okay I’ll stay here," you point to the couch but he shakes his head adamantly. "You'll die from hypothermia. Do you know how mad Chan will be if I let you pass away?" he whispers in fear, a hand clutching his heart.

"So dramatic," you giggle, before following him into his room. He goes on his bed first before tapping the spot beside him. You sigh before lying next to him, snuggling further into the hoodie he gave you to change.

"You're still shivering," he remarks, as your teeth clink together.

"It's okay."

"You shouldn't have gone out with just a t-shirt."

"I didn't exactly plan on this, you know," you smile sarcastically and Han chuckles before tapping your shoulder softly.

"Come closer."

You debate for a second before complying, the cold tuning out all the rational thoughts in your head. 

Your arm brushes against his and you can't breathe once again. But it's a different type of deprivation. Han always seems to steal the oxygen from your lungs, but for once, you don't mind. Red embers are burning within you and their flames keep you alive. You press your chest to his back, as your forehead rests on his shoulder. Maybe he'll turn you to ashes. Will you rise from them?

"You're so cold," his hand reaches behind to rub your arms soothingly, an earnest attempt to warm you up.

"I’ll be fine, go to sleep. Don't worry about me."

"I can't control it."

In the dark room, Han can't see you curling your hand into a tight fist at his words. 

"If you stay quiet then I’ll sleep," you say after a while and Han giggles softly.

"That's the goal. You need to rest."

"You should sleep too."

"I will."

"Okay. Good night, Han."

"Good night, Yn."

You think he's fallen asleep when you speak up again. "Hey, Han."

"Yes, Yn?" He replies instantly, voice slightly hoarse. 

"Can you repeat that lyric to me, about the flowers blooming again?" You ask quietly, and you feel him nodding against your chest.

"I’m sure it’ll get better... Just like the earth hardens after the rain and flowers bloom again."

His warm voice vibrates within your body. "That's a nice lyric."

"I hope you'll dream of it instead."

☄༄

Against Han’s strong belief, he's the one who fell sick after your rain-soaked outing. 

You knew of it from Chan, who texted you saying that Han caught a nasty cold, and then got food poisoning, which meant he couldn't be there for their highly anticipated meeting—after their electrifying Heyday performance, a record label expressed strong interest in signing them. 

"Can you come over and stay with Han?" Chan implores as soon as he answers your call.

“That bad?” You ask, a pout pulling at your lips.

"I don't want to leave him alone. He's been really sick for the past week now, and… it's partly your fault"

"I can’t believe you’re guilt-tripping me into coming," you chuckle even though you know he is right. Han wouldn’t have gotten out in the rain if it wasn’t for you.

"I'm sorry it’s just I don't think he's been good, apart from the illness. And I’m worried, and I don’t know I thought maybe you could talk to him. He reminds me of you, in his sadness, so you might understand what's wrong more than me."

You think it over for a second before rising up from your bed.

"I'm coming"

As soon as you step inside their dorm, Chan pulls you for a side hug, placing a quick kiss on your forehead. “Thank you so much,” he whispers, clearly grateful that you agreed to come. It worries you even more for Han.

“No problem. You can go, I’ll be with him.”

“Thank you, Yn” Changbin smiles before hastily pulling Chan outside the door. You wave them both goodbye.

You cautiously crack open the door to Han’s room, to find it completely engulfed in darkness. The stream of light from the door falls upon Han, who squints his eyes, trying to see who disrupted his fragile peace.

"Hi," you speak softly, finding it a bit odd to raise your voice in such a still room. Han attempts to sit up, before doubling over, hand tightly clutched around his stomach.

You rush to his side, kneeling beside his bed. It's the only lit-up part of the room.

"Still hurts?" you ask, your hand moving in soothing circles on his back. He nods, eyes squeezed shut, and you feel your heart crack at the sight.

"Have you taken any medicine?"

"A few hours ago. I need to eat something before I can take more, but I can't get up to the kitchen."

"Why didn't you tell the boys?"

"Didn't want to be a burden."

"You aren't. I'll make you something to eat. Okay? Try to sleep meanwhile."

"You don't have to," Han shakes his head, his eyes finally meeting yours.

"I know," you smile softly, before exiting the room.

Minutes later, you're back in the room, a bowl of sliced fruit in your hands.

"Do you guys live off protein powder and frozen chicken?" you ask, earning a quiet laugh from Han as he lays his back against the headboard.

"We do. Please save me," he jokes and you laugh, shaking your head. "Good thing I grabbed some fruit before leaving."

"Thank you," he grins, eyes slightly squinting closed. 

"Here," you grab a strawberry, bringing it to his lips. His eyebrows raise up in surprise, a sheen layer of sweat coating them. "What? Look at how tightly you're clutching the comforter," you point to his hands and Han sighs, before parting his lips slightly.

His mouth brushes against your fingertips, igniting a cascade of emotions in you. You'll think about what it means later.

You grab a green grape next, feeding it to him gently. A drop of water trickles down the corner of his mouth, and you wipe it away with the back of your finger.

"I can- I can do it," Han mumbles, voice wavering like an unpredictable storm. His trembling hands reach for the bowl, but they struggle to hold it right.

"Han, it's okay, I don't mind," you try to keep your voice gentle, sensing that there is an impending doom awaiting just below the surface.

"No, I- I need to do it. Just let me-" A tear falls into the fruit bowl. "Let me do it, please. I can- I can do it, I’m not useless, I…"

The floodgate opens.

A stream of tears escapes Han's eyes as he looks down at the bowl between his hands. He's crying, eyes tightly shut and the small whimpers escaping his lips feel like a dagger piercing your heart.

"You're sick. Let me take care of you."

"It's horrible horrible work." His voice cracks as his eyes finally lock on yours, and you can tell that his anguish isn't about his illness. These are the words of the shadows threatening to swallow him whole. You have to fight them off with the light.

"I will do it."

As Han lays on his bed, the sound of you washing the dishes resonating from the kitchen, your voice bounces off the dark walls in his head. You didn't try to convince him that it was easy work, you told him you'll do it, even if it's horrible. You'll do it because you want to, not because you can, not because it's accessible. The thought sends a warmth in his chest. It's faint, like a flickering candle trying its best to withstand the wind. But it's there. He holds on to it. He'll shield it with his cupped hands so it wouldn't fizzle out. 

"Hannie, you’re okay?" you peer into the room. Hannie- the candle's flame grows higher.

"Mm," he hums, too weak to turn and look at you.

"You're shivering," you remark, and he tightens the blanket around his body. "It'll pass."

You stay silent, and he thinks you've left the room. But then he feels the left side of the bed dip, with you climbing tentatively on it.

"This worked last time when I was cold," you smile softly at him, before bringing his head to your chest and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He feels frail and fragile in your embrace. You hug him tighter to you.

"Warming up?" you ask and he nods against your chest. He's burning.

"Try to sleep," you urge quietly, your hand moving to pat his back. "It will pass."

"What if it doesn't?" Han asks faintly. Please don't let the candle die, he wants to plead.

"There is always light at the end of the tunnel."

"What if the tunnel is closed?"

"Then you go back to the start and find a new one," you respond.

"Can I find it later? I'm so tired tonight." His voice is drowsy, sleep already clinging to his achy bones. 

"Just rest for now. You did well," you scratch his back lightly, as he nuzzles further into the crook of your neck. 

There was never a candle to begin with- you were the light.

☄༄

Had someone told you five months ago that you'd be lying on Han's bed, watching "Howl's Moving Castle" at 2 a.m., you would've thought they were utterly delusional.

Yet, here you are now.

A lot of things had changed since your rainy outing with Han, as if the universe had shifted into alignment, two stars in the sky finally colliding and making way for something new. You saw him under a different light, understanding that no one picks up a dandelion unless they desperately need the solace it provides.

You've grown to care for him, in the course of the past two months. And funnily enough, you've started to like who you were next to him- just yourself, with no pressure of making conversation, or catering to his expectations of you.

He saw you at your worst anyway, and so did you, there was no use in filtering things anymore.

You've been there through the entire process of writing, composing, and producing Secret Secret- the song whose lyrics had captured your heart. You didn't expect him to ask you to be there with him, he just shot you a text, three days after you came over to his house. 'Wanna be there while I work on the song? I know you liked the lyrics.' It was an offer you couldn't pass up on.

You weren't, in your opinion, much help. Han was gifted in the music realm and song-making flowed naturally from him. But he noticed how interested you were in music, so he called you over each time he worked on the song, even asking for your input at times.

That's why, when the song was finally done and released on 3racha's Spotify account, you decided to celebrate by baking him a cake. You may have dropped an eggshell in the batter (you recovered it later on), and the icing's color turned out less vibrant than what you hoped for. But you managed to adorn it with a garden of little flowers, and with store-bought icing, you wrote the words "after the rain flowers will bloom again."

You showed up to the dorm and Changbin pointed you to Han's room, where he had apparently been holed up all day. You shot him a grateful smile, before pushing the door open with your foot.

"What are you doing here?" Han asked, an incredulous smile drawn on his lips.

"Surprise!" you grinned, pushing the cake his way. "Congrats on making Secret Secret."

"Are you serious?" he chuckled, jumping out of his bed. He peered at the cake, eyes softening as he gazed down at the design.

"You drew a little garden..." he whispered in awe and you nodded, a faint blush creeping up your face.

"I'm glad you recognized what it was. I'm not the best baker," you admit a bit shyly but he shook his head. "It's perfect. I can't believe you did this to celebrate our baby!"

"Your baby," you corrected, although the use of 'our' warmed up your chest, weirdly enough.

"You were here with me every step of the way. She's ours."

"It's a she?" you giggled, and he smiled proudly.

"Mm. Do you accept being her mother?" he mused; hands clasped in front of his heart like he was praying you'd say yes.

"It would be my greatest honor," you nodded solemnly, and he let out a breathy chuckle, grabbing the cake from your hands and setting it on his bed.

"Should we hug it out?" he teased, arms stretched wide but you merely stared at him, unimpressed.

"Come on," he whined, "you can't reject me for the third time. And, in front of our child. On her birthday!" his tone grew louder and you couldn't help but giggle at his mock outrage.

"Try harder."

"Our child won't know what a loving parent relationship is and then she'll seek out unhealthy love from the ones around her and-" you cut him off by finally wrapping your arms around him.

You've always known that being near Han left you breathless, but this time, it felt as though he was breathing life into you. You close your eyes instinctively, as his hold tightens on you. He smells immensely nice, like pinewood and soap. You should've hugged him sooner.

"Thank you," he said quietly, forehead pressed against your shoulder blade.

"You did well," you whisper back.

"We did. She's our child, remember?" he reprimanded and you laughed faintly.

"Yeah, ours."

Hours later, the movie's credits finally roll down, and the finished cake sits idly by Han's desk.

"I should go," you rub your eyes tiredly, and Han stares at you as if you are out of your mind.

"At this hour? Do you want our kid to lose her mom?"

"Han," you drawl, hitting his head with the pillow next to you. "You can't hold me hostage."

"I can, as your husband."

"Since when are we married?"

"Since you agreed to be Secret's mother." Another playful hit to his face.

"Stop attacking my face, how will I get laid then?"

"So, you are cheating on me?" you ask, feigning outrage.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry baby you're the only one I want." You falter at the nickname before hitting him even harder, matching the tempo of your quickening heartbeat.

"You're crazy," he laughs, grabbing your wrists and pinning you onto the bed. He's hovering over you, eyes hooded with a tender intensity as he gazes down at you.

"Will you stay, please?"

"The couch is uncomfortable," you reply, avoiding his eyes. He lets go of one wrist before holding your chin gently, urging you to look at him.

"You can sleep here. We've done it before."

"You were freezing both times. That's why I did it."

"I'm very cold tonight," he pouts, eliciting a surprised chuckle from you.

"Are you now?"

"Very much so."

"Fine. Only because I don't want you to die from hypothermia."

"Thank you!" he grins excitedly, finally letting go of your wrist. You bring a hand to your flushed cheeks, as he tosses a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants in your direction.

"Get changed! There is a spare toothbrush in the cabinet."

You make sure to groan theatrically, before heading into the bathroom, where you splash your face repeatedly with water. You aren't used to this- being a blushy mess, because of Han, nonetheless. It was dizzying you, how things took the complete opposite turn between you and him.

At least, back then you weren't alone in your hate, you couldn't stand being alone in your affection.

So, you'd stop this, whatever feeling that's coursing through you. Tomorrow, you will firmly close the door on the blooming feelings within you. But tonight, you’d both lay on the same bed, arms brushing against one another. It's completely dark and quiet, but there is an entire symphony playing within you.

"Thank you for today," he whispers, turning around and tucking his arm under his head, this way he's facing you.

You mirror his actions, and your fingertips brush against one another. You can't see him but you can feel him. He's everywhere, wrapping around all your senses. 

"Thank you for making this song. It's very comforting to me."

"Why is that?" he questions, inching closer to you, you can feel his minty breath fan all over your face.

"I’ve always felt like I carried too many emotions within me. Like a volcano, bubbling over until the day I explode. I never liked feeling this way, so I tried to hide it," you confess softly.

"Like a secret secret."

"Like a secret secret," you repeat, glad that he understands.

"You don't have to hide with me," he says after a few silent beats, and you swallow nervously.

"I know." you lick your lips as the music inside you grows louder. "Still cold?"

"A little."

"Come closer," you beckon, and he complies instantly, wrapping his arm behind your back and drawing your chest close to his. Your legs entangle with one another, as your face lays on the crook of his neck. It's intimate, far more than any time you've done it before. You don't want to sink in his hold in fear of never resurfacing again.

"Good?" he asks, voice tinged with a newfound raspiness. 

"Mm," you hum, and he releases a relieved sigh.

You've once read that everything in this universe sings. Every atom's vibration creates a sound, contributing to a grand celestial chorus. It's an unscientific, but lovely thought, to wonder who our hearts sing for.

Right now, it's for Han.

☄༄

The music echoes through your being, an ever-present melody that refuses to fade into silence. Even with no audience to enjoy it.

Han always found his way back to your side, no matter how many times you've tried to distance yourself from him. And you couldn't bring yourself to refuse him, because you were friends, first and foremost. And friends don't abandon one another just because a mere glance at them sprouts a blush across your cheeks. 

That's how you find yourself on your way to Han's dorm, for the third time that week. Watching movies together has become your little tradition, for the past few months, and sometimes even Chan joins in. Although he mostly enjoys shooting you a knowing smile, to which you flip him off.

Your phone rings and Han's name illuminates your screen. You smile against your will.

"Can't wait to see me this much?" you singsong and Han's chuckle rings through the phone. It's rich and deep, causing you to tighten your hold on the device.

"Yes. And can you please go to the store? I'm out of snacks."

"What do I get out of it?" you muse, changing directions to the nearest convenience store.

"Snacks."

"Asshole," you giggle on your way to cross the road.

"And my eternal gratitude of course."

"Right, because I can't-" Loud tires screech right beside you and you startle, letting out a loud yelp as you drop your phone.

A hand on top of your heart, you bend down to pick up your fallen device, as the driver gets out of the car that grazed your body, mere inches away from hitting you. 

"Are you okay, miss? I'm sorry I didn't see you." The middle-aged man is quick to your side, and you glance at the small kid in his car, willing yourself to calm down for their sake.

"I'm fine. Just a bit startled. Drive more slowly, there is a kid with you."

"I know, I'm sorry," he drags a hand through his stressed features and you couldn't help but feel sympathy for him. "It's okay, don't worry about it. Just pay more attention to the road, okay?"

"Thank you so much. Thank you," he clasps his hand in gratitude before getting back to his car and you wave him off, your heart still wildly beating in your chest.

You head into the convenience store, picking up the snacks you know Han loves before paying for them. But as soon as you step back outside, you spot a disheveled Han crossing the road, sprinting toward the store. His pace quickens upon spotting you.

"What are you..." your question is cut short as his arms wrap around you, pulling you to his chest instantly. You can feel the frantic rhythm of his heart, and you're confused as he pulls away, hands cradling your cheeks and turning your face left and right.

"You're alright, nothing happened to you, right? You’re okay?" he inquires urgently and you let out a confused giggle, as you grab his arm to steady him.

"What are you talking about?"

"I heard the tires screech and you yelled and then you didn't pick up when I called and I thought-" his voice cracks. "I thought something happened to you."

"No, no. I'm okay. Nothing happened, I promise." you reassure, as he brings you to his chest once again, his hand smoothing the top of your hair.

"I was so scared," he kisses your temple, as his thumping heart resounds within your chest. "So terrified that something would happen to you. I thought I'd lose my mind."

"You don't mean that," you shake your head slowly, peeling yourself away from him.

"Can you really not see how much I care about you? How I crave being near you?" his voice raises a slight octave. The music in you picks up.

"How long do I have to pretend to be cold to have you nearby? For god's sake, I'm never cold around you, yn. When I see you, I ignite." He takes in a deep breath, pressing his forehead onto your shoulder. "And I... I couldn't have lived with myself if something happened to you. I... You drive me crazy, Yn. When we became friends it felt like I was stepping inside a home for the first time, and yet I already knew each turn in it."

He grabs your arms, shaking you slightly as his chest heaves up and down. "My darkness recognizes yours and my light is you and you- you think I wouldn't care if anything happened to you?"

He shakes his head as tears prickle in the corners of his eyes. Has his music always been this loud, were you just not listening properly?

"I'm scared because we didn't start well and I understand if a part of your heart still resents me, I do. But I don't think I can pretend anymore. Not with you," his voice softens as his gaze locks on yours.

"Were you pretending too?" He asks, hope dripping from his tone. "Do you feel it too?"

A split second goes by. A candle flickering somewhere. A dandelion plucked from the ground. The shadow of a cloud passing over the sun- and you pick.

"I feel it too. So much that my heart feels like it’s singing for you, Han."

"I'll sing for it in return," he whispers, before crashing his lips onto yours. His hand slides up the back of your neck, drawing you closer. You drop the bags of groceries as you cradle his cheeks, feeling them warm up beneath your touch. You can't believe you've ever disliked your heart for feeling too much, not when the lovely emotions flowing in your heart threaten to burst it at the seams, submerging you in a warmth you've never known before- Han. 

Two months later

You have 3 new messages from: hannie

"kept this song a secret from you baby but i wrote it for you so you can't be mad"

"i don't know if you remember but you’ve once told me that you are a volcano. as if that’s something that’s supposed to put me off. well, some people dedicate their lives to studying volcanos. and i would dedicate mine to learning you."

"Volcano.mp3."