#admin cj

yeollie butts in, “aannnddd she takes home the prize for the correct answer!” 

you laughed, and walked over to yeollie, baek, and chen … chatting it up with the beagle line

kris is sUpEr jealous, but like, hatred,,,, y’know … 

“i’m the only one who can subtly flirt with (Name). it’s only mE.” luhan’s trying to mind his own business but he just cAn’T

luhan internally: ┴┬┴┤( ͡° ͜ʖ├┬┴┬

luhan externally: ┴┬┴┤( ͡° ͜ʖ├┬┴┬

he’s creepin hard.

when you come into work the next day, kris is oh so conveniently trying to order your favorite drink (that you knew he hated). you had to wipe the grin off your face before going to talk to him

“so kris ,,,,, whatcha doin’??” the poor man almost fell over dead, he was so scared. you almost fell over dead laughing …he did not appreciate that

“i’m getting a drink (Name), god.” “my favorite drink?” “i just wanted to see if your coffee is as bitter as you are.” 

the idea of self-restraint was buying its ticket to the bermuda triangle. it will soon never be seen again.

after he gets the coffee, you slip it right out of his hand, and dash to the elevators. kris runs after you, “(Name) get back here! you know i’m cheap! that drink cost fOuR dOLLeRs!!”

he got to the elevators, but you had a trick up your sleeve.

the two of you were inside, but it stopped on the next floor up

coffee in hand, you planted your hand on all of the buttons and made your way down. on your way out, you pressed close.

“have fun being late, loser! and, thanks for the mocha! i’ll be sure to enjoy!” his eyes were wide-open, and frozen, and his mouth was gaping as the doors shut.

all you could do was laugh

opening the door to the boy’s dressing room, you walked in, placing the untouched drink on the makeup station

“he forgot the extra shot of espresso.” 

“who did??” luhan’s voice made you jump. 

“none of your business, lu.” “ooo does (Name) have a cRUsH??!!” “oh my god, shut up.” 

surprise,,,,

he doesn’t …. 

“oH! is it jinwoo! the barista downstairs,,, he’s kinda cute! i can see you with him” no he cAn’T “what the hell?! lu, no, it’s not jinwoo!”

here he comes ┴┬┴┤( ͡° ͜ʖ├┬┴┬ 

“so you admit, you have a cRUsH!!” “nO.” 

“stop lYiNg, you piece oF tRaSh!!”

“….maybe,,,, i do.”

*cue weird man screams*

“i kNEw iT!!! TELL ME WHO IT IS (Name) (L/N)!!” “nO wAy, lu, eVeR!!” “wHy tHO?!!” 

“BECAUSE I DON’T tRUsT yoU!”

“wow, this ,,,, this is what betrayal feels like? i can’t believe it …” luhan clenched his heart, and you burst into laughter. punching his shoulder lightly. 

“you’re my best friend but,,,, no.”

“(NaME) (L/N)!! i aM gOinG tO MUrdER YOU!!!” 

in that moment everything froze. the managers stopped chatting, xiumin and sehun looked up from their phones, tao pulled his nose out of his gucci magazine, yixing and kai woke from their peaceful slumber, and even the beagle line stopped messing with junmyeon and kyungsoo. you were the only one to move.

you shot up and out of your spot on the couch, running towards the exit on the other side of the room.

!!! GoTTa bLaST !!!

“catch me if you can, loser!” “(Name), your legs are so short! they can hardly take you anywhere!” “be quiet, sehun! no one asked your opinion.” 

you didn’t have time to make fun of him more,,, you had to run.

it’s been almost fifteen minutes, and you’re starting to get tired. it’s getting hard to breath, so you hide behind a door, where you think no one else is,,,

second surprise!!!

“kRiS??!”

“shhh, the managers are mad. they have looks that can kill,” he hissed, placing a hand over your mouth. that was a mistake.

you licked his hand, and he snatched it away. you laughed triumphantly, not realizing what you’d just done. 

“did you just ,,, lick me?” “i did” “…” “oh god, what have i done.” you slammed your head into the wall, and it was deafening. you sprung back, not meaning to hit it that hard.

kris couldn’t hold back his laughter.

the managers found you, and they immediately thought the worst …

this day that started perfectly, turned into one of your worst nightmares. 

the words on the pink slip of paper was the most heartbreaking news you’d ever received in your life. and once, you hit a cat on the road, and tried to go back to help it

‘Miss (L/N), we must regretfully inform you that you are fired. Due to suspicious circumstances concerning you and an idol, you are being let go. Your contract has been terminated, and you must be out of the building by 12 this afternoon.’ 

tears pricked at the back of your eyes, and you realized that you had to pack up your station and say your goodbyes in just two hours.

you made your way to the boy’s dressing room, and tried to keep from crying. immediately, the boys noticed something was wrong, and they came over to you, looking worried. 

silently, you showed them the pink slip, and some gasped, while others were speechless.

the first to move were xiumin and chanyeol. xiumin wrapped his strong arms around you and hugged you for a few seconds, some of his own tears splattering across your soft, cotton t-shirt. chanyeol was next, and he rested his chin on your head as he hugged you, swaying back and forth a bit.

chen, baekhyun, and sehun were the next ones to come up to you. chen took your hand in his, and gave it a squeeze, offering you a wordless “it’ll be okay.” baekhyun was after him, and he gave you a little kiss on the cheek, whispering in your ear, “(Name), this isn’t the end, y’know.” sehun stole you away, his face downcast. “I’ll let you make fun of me any time, (Name), don’t worry …” his sad smile broke your already fragmented heart.

tao and kai followed. tao cupped your face, and brought you into his chest. he slowly let his tears fall … over the years, you’d grown extremely close to the china-line. kai grasped your hand in his velvety soft one, and he offered you a gentle grin. “this doesn’t mean anything, (Name), we’ll still see each other every day,” he promised.

suho and yixing came after they stepped back. suho’s eyes were teary and he was at a loss for words. all he did was hug you tight and lift you a bit from the ground. once he pulled away, yixing took his place. lay stared at you for a few seconds, inaudibly watching you fall apart. he grabbed your right hand, and he spinned in a circle slowly. when you faced him again, he chuckled and wiped the rivulets that had fallen down from your eyes.

luhan and kyungsoo, two of the most controlled and calm members, were bawling. luhan, though he was one of the last, ran to you and gripped you in a hug that knocked the breath out of your lungs. his shoulders shook violently as he sobbed into the crook of your neck. kyungsoo had to pry him off of you to say his own goodbye. 

“(Name), you are very special to us. You’ve taken care of us when we needed it, and offered us help when it was necessary. In this world, full of stars, you shine the brightest, and every one of us loves to stargaze. We’ll miss you, (Name).”

at that moment, you shattered.

you hugged kyungsoo with the force of a hundred elephants. he stumbled back a bit, and he laughed sullenly, shielding the others from seeing his tears by hiding his face in your shoulder.

“that’s shi-”

all of the others glowered at kris as he snatched the pink slip out of your hand

“suspicious circumstances concerning an idol …” 

his face turned ghost white. “oh god, (Name). behind the door. oh god, oh god, oh god … this is my fault …” you shook your head rapidly and put your hands on the outsides of his arms.

“kris no—”

“yes!” “kris, don’t make this harder—” “at least let me walk you out, (Name) … please?”

reluctantly you nodded, scrambling around to pack up your things

the ride in the elevator was hushed, and neither of you spoke. but, sometimes words are better left unsaid.

the two of you exited the elevator, and you went to get one last coffee. you handed the cardboard box to kris, and told him where to find your car.

when you came back out, oddly enough, you were holding two coffees. one for kris and one for you. it was your last hurrah as a makeup artist with sm; one final thing to make your memory stand with kris.

but he did you one better …

with both of the drinks spilled over the back of your car, he brought both of his hands to your face, and kissed you.

smack on the lips.

you felt like a little school girl, having your secret crush kiss you on what used to be your playground.

“I guess those mochas aren’t as bitter as I thought.” you pulled him in again, and then came another snarky remark. “I hope we’re not too suspicious. that would be problematic.”

at this point, the job didn’t matter. you had left earth, and dropped all of its baggage on the way up.

you loved that feeling.

wowie, 1.7k words to get to the actual thing lol ;-;

okay, so dating this secret floof would be the cutest thing.

kris is like, forever in his teen angst phase, so, you always have to pull him out of the house to do stuff. 

“we’re going to karaoke with Ryu and Mina! it’ll be so fun!” “(Name), i don’t sing. i’m a rapper.” “no, you’re my boyfriend, and i have enough dirt on you to fill a million construction sites.”

“i hate you, y’know.” “love you too, kris~”

he ends up enjoying everything more because he’s with you. 

“you always find the beauty in things.” “do you find beauty in this??” “you? oh,,,, nah.”

now that you’re not an employee you can actually hit him.

you guys would never ever use nicknames, you’re just too close, and it doesn’t feel right when you call him “honey” or “babe” and vice versa

also, you guys would never cuddle, like, ever (unless either of you guys were sad or sick or something)

you guys are actually the perfect mix of calm and chaotic, and it’s adorable. 

like, he’ll be reading on the couch, completely minding his own business while you’re looking for a new position as a makeup artist, but once you get bored, you legit just jump on him.

“kris, i hate looking for a job.” “and?” “i just hate it.” “well, someone’s gotta pay the bills for the rest of our lives, and it’s not gonna be me.” 

“aren’t you supposed to be the man of the house.” “i’m only that when i want to be. now, go look for a job.”

in all, you guys would be the cutest couple when you aren’t mad at each other.

which brings me to the point i’m excited sad to have to talk about. 

fights

so, you two are probably the most stubborn people in the world. and most of the time, with stubbornness comes a temper, but that’s not the case with either of you.

neither of you guys have a short temper. so, it takes a lot for you to get angry with each other.

but, when he missed multiple anniversaries back to back, you began to get fired up.

“kris, what’s today?” “it’s the 16th of October, why?” for a few seconds you were silent, then you scoffed.

“you really forgot … and this is the third time.” “what? what’d i forget this time?” “no, you asshole, figure it out by yourself.” “oh jesus, (Name), stop being to dramatic and tell—” 

before he could finish, you slammed the door in his face, and walked to the bar down the street.

still oblivious, he called luhan and had to ask him why today was such a special day.

“oh my god, kris, this is the third time! every year, you forget!” “forget what?!” “your anniversary, you giant idiot!”

with those words, kris suddenly felt dizzy and a bit sick.

“oh god, what have i done?” he asked no one in particular, forgetting luhan was still on the line. “you’ve been a douche to (Name) for the third time in your relationship. you better keep an eye down below, one of these days i might just come by with a pair of scissors.”

he shuddered at the thought of luhan showing up with a pair of rusty blades to do something less-than-desirable to a part of him that he wasn’t ready to lose just yet.

the next few days were spent in an unsteady silence

you wouldn’t pick up his calls, and he had decided to wait your punishment for him out.

but, while the minutes on the clock ticked by and the restless drumming of his fingers grew too much for him to bear, he drove to your friend Mina’s house, and tried to persuade her to let him in

“Mina, i need to see her.” “but she doesn’t want to see you.” “i’m sure she doesn’t mean that.” there was a few seconds before a response, but he was relieved when he heard your voice.

“oh, so you didn’t forget to come check on me? what am i to you? a kid?” you rapidly fired questions at him, and he was appalled at what he was hearing.

“no, (Name). I’m so sorry. This is all my fault, and I completely understand if you want some space for awhile.” the door cracked open a bit, and he caught a glimpse of your puffy, tear-streaked face. “you know it’s the first thing i want, but, it’s the last thing i need.” you sucked in snot, and he wrapped his arms around you in a tight, reassuring hug

“i love you more than the world, (Name).”

“i love you too, Kris. so much.”

all in all, you guys would cherish each other, and even though you’re not the most lovey-dovey, you make up for it in how much romance is actually hidden within your relationship. he’ll cook meals for you, he’ll read his books to you, he’ll share his feelings with, but most importantly, he’ll tell you how much you mean to him. and you would do the same.

The familiar sensation burned its way across your hand, as yet another tally mark was etched into your skin. Sure, it was painful, then again, all reminders were. You winced, and looked down at the blood that seeped from the scratch. Seeing it flood into the crevices of you palm was taunting—knowing that now, you’ve passed your soulmate seven times.

Walking along the road to your shabby, rundown apartment you thought only of him. In all honesty, you didn’t care what he looked like. He could be short, tall, or anywhere in between. He could be muscular or scrawny, it didn’t really matter to you. All you wanted was for the pain to cease. Anyone who could make the marks go away, was a blessing … anyone …

Opening the door, and walking in, you rushed to your kitchen, and almost slipped on a sock trying to get bandages for your hand.

Everyone’s idea of these “soulmate marks” was good in the beginning, until people began getting them on their own bodies. No one can thoroughly explain why this started happening to people. When the issue first arose, everyone thought the marks would be clean and beautiful, but that was not the case. The wounds were jagged and disgusting. They made hands look like they had been mauled by bears. In the now, people chose to cover them. It didn’t matter how they did it, they just wanted them gone. Sometimes, you would see people embrace them, and post their scars on social media. Sometimes it would be Instagram, sometimes Snapchat, and that’s why you owned absolutely no social platforms. You, of all people, did not want to see tallies on others when you had plenty of your own.

Snapped out of your reverie by a scalding feeling on your hand, you shifted your gaze to the hot water running from the faucet. Swiftly pulling your hand back, you shook your head and scoffed.

“What the hell is wrong with me?” You asked, rhetorically. Because, deep down, you knew the answer. It was the cuts, they made you like this. It was festering insanity that was pinned in the bottom of your stomach. It was the fact that you had no clue who your other half was. This not-so-sudden revelation was eating you from the inside out.

The next day came quickly after you slept for about two hours. You couldn’t help but think about the ironic situation people who chose to cover their scars were. It was quite laughable, to say the least. The marks that were engraved into their skin served as bitter messages. ‘Look who you just passed,’ the marks mock. So, in a sense, covering them was futile. In the cases where people actually did find their soulmate, the bloody lines disappeared, like they were never there in the first place. But, this situation was extremely rare. It was unbelievably sad, when people died, all that was carved into their cold, stone graves was the number of tallies they had when they passed.

‘That’ll be me, I guess,’ you laughed, voice souring with each word that was internally uttered. Although, you were sad and just a bit angry, the sun was shining, so you decided to take your homework outside, to cheer yourself up.

While finding yourself a place to sit, you just about tripped and fell. The searing pain coming from your hand was almost unbearable, and all you could do was grip your wrist and wait for it all to be over. It’d been at least a minute, and at this point, you had crumpled in on yourself. People were staring, but they did nothing to help, because they knew how you felt. They knew what it was like for those gashes to ache, and they knew what it was like for them to form. Everyone knew the cost of these soulmate marks—but no one did anything about it.

Even as you did your project for your class, your injuries still throbbed, and it wasn’t until you heard a smooth man’s voice that you were broken out of your daydream.

“Are you okay? You’ve been holding your hand for a while now.” The sound seemed to come from the air above you, and your focus moved to the tree limbs that hung over your head. As you looked up, your eyes widened, and you were face to face with a handsome young man.

“What, uh, I—how long have you been here?!” You stammered, clutching your appendage close to your chest. Though your voice was venomous, he continued to stare into your face. His eyes were soft and doe-like albeit fierce and never-ending. They seemed to pass right through you, and you couldn’t say that you were okay with that …

“Oh, y’know, long enough,” he replied vaguely. You scoffed and muttered some colorful language under your breath, and prayed he couldn’t hear all the way down here.

“That’s not the answer I was looking for, but, okay,” you muttered, rolling your eyes. “I meant like, what’d you see … asshole?” His gaze never shifted from your form, curled into a ball at the foot of the tree. The leaves rustled, and within the span of a few seconds, he was crouched right in front of you, his right hand shoved into your face … there were eight scars, the exact same number your’s had.

“I saw your cuts,” he smiled, quirking his head at an odd angle, “they aren’t like everyone else’s. They’re different, and so are you.” His smile never faded, even as he went on and on about things that were uncomfortable for people to talk about. You found yourself wasting the day away with this mystery man, but you didn’t mind, and besides, he made the pain go away.

When the sky grew dark, he stood up abruptly, patting the front of his jacket before helping you off the ground. You weren’t ready to leave just yet, you internally begged for him to stay.

“We can meet here again tomorrow, (Name),” he beamed, looking at your forlorn expression.

“Alright, but can you at least tell me your name so I don’t have to keep mentally calling you asshole for the rest of my life,” you joked, playfully hitting his shoulder. He grinned like the Cheshire cat, and he placed both of his hands on your shoulders.

“One, my name’s Hansol, but most people call me Vernon. And, two, I’m flattered that you want to keep talking to me for the rest of your life. It’s cute …” His voice came to a halt right there, and he looked like he was resisting the urge to do something that you could probably guess the exact action. Instead, he reluctantly pulled his hands off of your body, waved, and walked in the other direction.

“Hansol, Hansol! Vernon! Hello!” You’d been waiting under the tree for almost two hours, and you just decided to start looking for him. It was a pretty dumb move on your part, but what could you say—you’d started to fall. All you hoped was that you didn’t open old wounds back up as you went down.

“Up here, again, (Name),” he called, this time from atop a different tree.

“There you are!” You sighed, “I’ve been waiting under that thing for over an hour!” The tree grumbled, as you saw Hansol’s form climb out of it, he rushed over to you and his eyes looked extremely worried. He shook his head, his eyes cleared, and the same vast, brown desert that was hidden in them yesterday was found once again.

“Why’d you stay? Am I really that important?” His words pierced your heart, like a knife does flesh. You now realized why he numbed the pain … it was because he rid all of it from your body. Slowly, you glanced down at your hand, and you had to hold back the bile rising in your throat. The tallies, the cursed marks that had plagued your soft, smooth skin, were gone. Like they had never existed in the first place. He was so, inexplicably important …

Your body moved on autopilot, and you pulled him into strong a hug. This young man, he was broken, just like you, just like everybody else … but no two mirrors crack in the same way. Your life had its ups and, unfortunately, its downs, but his did too.

He begrudgingly drew himself from your grasp, to look you in the face. He took your hand in his, and slowly flipped it over. Up to his lips your hand was lifted, and in every place where a lesion had been, he kissed. The actions were light, but to you, they meant more than the world itself.

“Hey! Are you gonna let me in, or what?! I’m turning into an icicle out here, (Name)!” He laughed, his voice a bit strained from how cold it was. Nonetheless, when you opened the door to greet him, he engulfed you in a large bear hug and shook you from side to side. Drilling a fake smile onto your lips to look at up at him was easy enough, it’s just fooling him that’s the tough part. 

Woojin knew you too well. He sensed something was wrong the moment you let him enter your house. His eyes scanned over your body, and that’s when he realized that everything was out of whack. Woojin saw your bloodshot eyes and the dark circles that had burrowed under them. His sharp inspection caught sight of your paling skin and frail frame. He glanced at your work table, and saw—what must’ve been—at least seven cups of coffee. And, last, he rested his gaze upon the mountainous pile of study sheets and notes that were neatly stacked in the corner of the table. After looking at the big picture, his mouth gaped as he ogled your pitiful area.

“(Name),” he whispered, “why don’t we take a break.” He peered at you, his eyes masking worry with a false shine of joy and excitement. You nodded reluctantly, ever so slightly looking back at the heap of work that was unbelievably crucial to your grade.

He led you up your own stairs, checking on you every step that you went up, just to make sure you wouldn’t trip. Woojin was scared out of his mind. He didn’t know what to think, but he followed his gut—and his gut told him that your bed was the best place you could’ve been. Quietly, he laid you on your plush pillows and soft blankets. Your face became so much more relaxed, and with it, he did the same. 

“Woojinnie,” you simpered, trying your best to persuade him, “can you please turn on the TV?” He wagged a finger at you, and slowly shook his head. The “mom” look didn’t really suit him, but if that’s what it came to, then that’s what it would be. 

“(Name), you and I both know if I turn on the TV, that you’re never going to get any sleep and you’re never going to talk to me,” he chided, “and right now, you need, and I want both of those things.” Not wanting to give in, you tried to withstand the cuteness of Park Woojin … but, to no avail. 

Welcoming him under the covers, the two of you cuddled close to one another. Every so often, he would place kisses on your cheeks, forehead, and if he was feeling daring, right next to your lips. You complained playfully each time a kiss ended, which only caused the peppering to continue. 

“Park Woojin!” You called, voice muffled by the cotton bed sheets, “If you’re going to get that close to my lips, why don’t you just kiss them?” Reaching your hands out to squish his cheeks, you puckered his lips. His snaggletooth was projected in all of its glory, and it made you giggle. 

“I’m too lazy,” he groaned, rolling over so he was no longer facing you, “they’re just so far away.” You scoffed and nuzzled into his back. His shoulders bounced with a silent chuckle as he felt your light breathing tickle his spine. Slowly, you pressed tiny pecks onto his skin, moving your way up to meet the nape of his neck. he shivered, and you huffed out a snort. He turned his body to look at you once more, and you outstretched your arm to run your fingers through his dry hair. To others, it may have felt rough, but to you, each strand felt like a minuscule velvet curtain just waiting to be pulled back.

“Well, so am I,” you grinned, poking your tongue out, “but, me? I’m lazy all the time. So, I guess no more kisses from me to Park Woo—” 

His perfect lips smashed against yours was a quick change, as the kiss became more passionate. When the two of you pulled away, you were both out of breath. Woojin’s vast, chocolate orbs stared intensely into yours, and for a minute, everything was forgotten. Your grades, the test—even time itself was lost. But, the moment faded when Woojin began to cackle. You narrowed your eyes, and a small pout appeared on your features. 

“What?” You fired off, defensively.

“Nothing, nothing, (Name),” he reassured you, “I just noticed how much of kids we still are.” His guffawing echoed throughout your whole room, and soon, he had you laughing too. “It’s like the third grade all over again!” By that point, you were bursting at the seams, recollecting feelings and memories of the past. That one exclamation took you back nine years. 

It was one of your older friend’s birthday parties, and she suggested that you all build a pillow fort. Her twin brother was, of course, allowed to play, and with him, he had brought a boy. That boy was Park Woojin. That boy was the nicest out of everyone (even the girls). And, that boy, would soon become your best friend.

After the fort was assembled, all seven of you took your positions, and you began to play “princess and the dragon.” It was a fun game while it lasted, but not every kid could stay up as late as you could … except for one little boy in particular.

“You’re (Name), right?” He inquired curiously, cocking his eyebrow to further accentuate the question. You nodded, firmly content that he couldn’t see the redness of your cheeks.

“Nice!” He whisper-yelled, trying to keep himself as quiet as he possibly could, “I’m Woojin, Park Woojin!” You smiled brightly at him, and silently moved your sleeping bag away from Gaeun, and closer to Woojin. The two of you went on and on about your like and dislikes until the night was far past young. In that period of time, you weren’t worried about the sun rising on the horizon, or the teasing that would come when all of your friends found you so close to each other. 

If this was what people called paradise, then, you never wanted to leave.

And leave, you did not. 

The eternal movement of the hands on a clock was futile when you and Woojin were in each other’s presence. Neither the small ticks nor the following tocks could disturb the tranquil infinity that was between you two. Forever was a long way away, but that didn’t mean that the romance ever had to stop. 

Snuggled together, warm and comfortable, under the safety of the covers, you were protected from humankind’s worst enemy—time. With Woojin, time was destroyed and created all at once. His eyes told stories of centuries, and his lips spoke the words of today. 

The fiery sensation that once inflamed your eyes was now gone, as Woojin’s soft voice lulled them closed. He told tales of great heroes, fables about animals, yes, but most importantly, he talked about you. He described everything he loved about you in immaculate detail. There were enough things to fill five hundred pages, but once he felt the steady puffs of breath that came from your mouth, he stopped at about one hundred.

The cool night air caressed his features as the two of you walked along the nature path. You kept stealing glances at him, and he at you. True love was found when the two of you met gazes. Looking at Yuta was jolted you into a new reality. But, if there was a reality like this, then there had to be one that wasn’t as much like a dream. That fact was inevitable.

“Isn’t this beautiful?” You asked, breathing labored. Yuta didn’t answer, because, as clichè as it sounded, he wasn’t looking where you were. Not even remotely close. His stare bored into your side profile, and he watched as your eyes twinkled. He believed you to be communicating with the stars.

They sparkled a small ‘hello,’ and you replied with a ‘how do you do?’ The conversation didn’t end there, because the night was still young, but, as the hours on the invisible clock got larger, the talk died down, and the celestial bodies said their goodbyes.

“Goodnight, stars.” 

You didn’t really mean it, being that you had all that you needed right next to you. He was your sun, the brightest star in the solar system, one that was necessary to keep on living. He was your moon, something ethereal, and adorned by all nations. And, he was every single one of your stars. He shined without failure through night and day, even when he couldn’t be seen. 

Taeyong enveloped Yuta in a large hug, gripping him tightly, and lightly squeezed. Yuta did nothing but stand, he stood in Taeyong’s hold, to stunned that he had voluntarily left you. Taeyong’s embrace looked feathery and kind, but in actuality, it was iron-solid and had Yuta internally gasping for air. When Taeyong let go of him, he almost fell. He was was so unfamiliar with the feeling of the tile floor on his feet that he didn’t know what to think.

A soft hand on Yuta’s shoulder made him shiver, and he whipped around to face Sicheng. “Eat, Yuta,” he murmured, “(Name) would want you to take care of yourself.” At the mention of your name, Yuta snapped, he was absolutely positive that the boys could hear his heart shattering. He hadn’t heard your real name in weeks. Weeks. He didn’t even know how long that was anymore. The seconds that ticked by just bled together, like watercolor paint on a completely clear canvas.

He stuffed food into his face, but he couldn’t taste any of it. It was like he was chewing on a dry sponge. Nothing was good anymore; everything he ate, it was just for sustenance. Even his favorite meal—which they had brought for him— wasn’t enough to cheer him up.

The quiet chatter of the people around him and the slight brushing of his arm against Sicheng’s were the only things keeping him sane. He had realized one night while sleeping in your room, that background noise seemed to drown out all of the painful distractions for a little while. But, the ideas were always there, sort of “prodding a bear with a stick.” Although, does the stick really matter if the bear is already dead?

“Yuta, look!” You exclaimed, pointing to the enclosure holding the giant black bear. He smiled, and nodded rapidly. He loved going to the zoo, because even if it was a vulture ripping apart a carcass, you would always find the beauty in it. Yuta loved that about you.

“Wow! It’s huge!” He whisper-yelled, leaning closer to you. You snickered and he scrunched up his nose. “Oh God, (Name), grow up!” His laughter echoed through the empty hallway as the two of you walk from the exhibit. 

“I’ll never grow up, Yuta! As long as I’m with you, I’ll never get old!” You giggled, “Even if our skin wrinkles and our eyesight fades, I’ll still feel young!” Your words made his heart swell, just thinking about your future together made him giddy. He studied your smile with great detail. Yuta leaned into you, cupped both of your cheeks with his plush hands, and planted his lips onto yours. In that moment, he studied your smile with great detail. The way your lips curled up tickled him pink, and when you pulled away, the only thing he could do was go back in for more. He left little pecks all over your face, and he held onto you like there was no tomorrow.

“Yuta,” you started, having settled down now, “what animal do you think you are?” A sly grin spread across his features, and he slipped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest.

“I’m a bear,” he roared, “I’m your bear!” This time, it was your laughter that rang out. It startled some pigeons picking up scraps from the sidewalk.

“Papa Bear.” You pushed a finger into his toned stomach. “Mama Bear.” Your finger came back to point at yourself, and he kissed your temple. 

“I love Mama Bear lots,” he chuckled in a jovial grumble.

“Mama Bear knows,” you replied, “but she loves Papa Bear lots more ...”

Back in your room, Yuta sat next to you and held your smooth hand in his calloused one. He talked to you slowly, in a mix of Korean and Japanese, his voice faltered when he spoke about what was happening now. He told you about their recent comeback, and how it was in Japanese. Yuta could imagine your eyes filling with a sincere look of pride as he uttered those words. 

“... it was so much fun, (Name). Remember I played it for you a couple days ago? It’s the new version of Limitless ...” Alternating languages he kept speaking, “... (Name), you know that boys came today, and I ate. Sicheng told me it’s what you would’ve wanted ...” His speech gradually died out, and the only sound filling the room was the steady beep of the heart monitor. 

Yuta struggled to sleep, because every time he closed his eyes, he was brought back to the day when you wouldn’t wake up. The words printed on your chart and hospital tag were like monsters hiding under his bed; they were always there, but not always visible. (PVS; HYPOXIA, CEREBRAL). His heart clenched when the doctors explained what that meant to him.

You had minimal amounts of oxygen flowing to your brain, and it was causing damage. The condition launched you into a coma, less commonly known as persistent vegetative state, meaning that your brain was still working and you were still breathing, but nothing came from it. There’s a difference between living and staying alive, and currently, you were doing the latter. 

Yuta hadn’t realized how many hours had passed, until the nurse from earlier came in and told him visiting hours were over. This time, unlike many others, he complied, standing and walking all the way out of the building. He passed through the lobby, he passed the small flower bush next to the bench he had slept on many a night before, and for the first time in about three months, he went home. Yuta walked from the hospital to the nearest bus stop, and he waited, but it wasn’t for you this time.

When he got back to the dorms, he collapsed on the large couch and said nothing. No one came to him, and there was no background noise. There wasn’t even the beating of cardiac monitor. It was just Yuta, he was alone in his thoughts. He was alone in his thoughts. He was alone.

“Yuta, Yuta, Yuta!” You yelled, trying to stop bawling, “Stop! Calm down, please?!” His name fell like a mantra from your lips as he raged around your apartment. He was angry with his job, with his parents, and with his life. All of this commotion you were suddenly burdened with had caused you to start crying.

“Me? Stop?! Look at you, you’re just as bad! Your blubbering like an idiot, and you can’t quit, can you?!” Yuta’s voice cut through your entire being. A thousand knives had pierced your stomach right then and there. His words were cold and sharp, unforgiving and merciless ... but true. Your bottom lips quivered, and you flopped down on the couch, trying to regain your composure, so you could deal with him like an adult. 

“Nakamoto Yuta,” your utterance was as dark as your eyes as you glared up at him, “don’t ever make me cry again.” The guttural tone to your voice shocked him into reality. His hands flew to the top of his head, and his eyes widened.

“What’ve I done?” Yuta’s gasp filled the room, as he finally cleared all of the red from his vision, and he saw the tears that pricked your vision. He rushed to where you were, but you turned away from his inviting embrace. “No.” Your eyes gleamed with malice, and the rivulets that threatened to fall just made them scarier.

“I understand that you’re unhappy, but that doesn’t mean you can take it out on me,” you replied, staring him down with as much seriousness you could muster. He nodded, his Adam’s Apple bobbing with every swallow he took.

“I’m so sorry.”

“I know, Yuta. I know,” you answered. Then, he exploded into a weeping mess. He rocketed his face into your chest, and you let him sob.

“I don’t want to be alone. Please don’t leave me, (Name)?” if you had died that day, that plead would be the one thing you remembered. It was so scared and innocent, it was so saddening.

“I’ll never leave you, Yuta. I promise.”

It was five in the evening when Yuta forced himself awake. He ran his hands over his face, trying to jolt himself back to the real world. When he glanced at the clock, he was startled. The slow feeling of impending doom washed over him. As soon as he opened his eyes, emotions were piled onto his fragile self. He was misery’s playground.

Launching himself up and out the door as fast as he could, he ran to the hospital. He couldn’t place a finger on what was bothering him last night. He wouldn’t be able to explain why he did what he did.

You vowed to never leave him. But, he left you first. While running, he passed the now dying rose bush, and his step faltered. It was the middle spring, and the beautiful blossoms were becoming brown.

Yuta was never good at gardening. But, he remembered that you loved roses. In the small garden window that your apartment had, there would always be one or two of the flowers. He could just barely hear you laughing at him, ‘Yuta, roses don’t grow in spring. They’re going to die.’ That was when the two of you started dating, and he tried to plant roses in the garden outside your parent’s house.

‘They’re going to die.’ They, undeniably, were going to die ... were you?

He sprinted into the waiting room, blowing past the guards and the nursing staff. People in the elevator paid him no mind as he fidgeted and bounced around. They didn’t care, because on the inside, they were doing the same. Those people that looked calm were lying to themselves. Their minds were in the midst of a chaotic battle. Will the person they’re going to see live? All of them awaited the painful choice every patient in here was pressured to make.

‘To be, or not to be? That is the question.’

Graduation day. You were graduating this year, and Yuta begged his managers to take him to it. He never got to go to college because of his career, but if he could watch you complete it, it would mean the world to him. When they agreed, he was ecstatic, and he bragged to all of the other boys. He gloated about how you were getting your degree in biomedical engineering until all of the members—even the Dreamies who were normally all over news about you—wanted him to stop talking.

They left when the clock struck three. The ceremony wasn’t until five, but Yuta wanted to be there early. On the train ride there, Mark and Taeyong had to keep telling him to sit down, because he was too hyper to stand. The two of them just thought about how lucky they were to be in an almost empty car.

When they arrived, Yuta bolted through the doors, head turning on a swivel trying to find you. He spotted your friend through the sea of people, and ran to her.

“Where’s (Name), Bo-hee?” He asked, putting both of his hands on her shoulders. Her eyes crinkled as she smiled, and she patted his cheek.

“That’s adorable. You guys are too cute,” she gushed, “(Name)’s preparing her valedictorian speech now. She doesn’t need to, but she’s nervous.” Yuta shook his head and scoffed at her compliment. She said that every time he did something sweet for you.

“Valedictorian? She never told me,” Yuta breathed. Suddenly, Bo-hee’s eyes grew a bit darker. They weren’t frightening; more so, they were disappointed.

“She didn’t tell you, because she didn’t think you were going to come.” She saw the hurt in his eyes, and offered him a bitter half smile. Bo-hee placed her right hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry Yuta, that’s probably not what you wanted to hear right now.”

“No, it’s okay,” he replied, “actually, thanks for telling me.” Her stare grew cautious as Yuta stalked off to the room she told him you were in, and she went to take her seat in the reserved section.

When Yuta opened the door, his ears were graced with your quiet, but influential voice. He walked up behind you, and your gazes met in the mirror.

“You thought I wouldn’t come?” The question was innocent, with no vicious intent. He honestly wanted to know. The fact that you didn’t trust him to be there during one of the most momentous parts of your life hurt him. You peered down at your notecards guiltily.

“I know how busy you are, and—” His vacant chocolate glance silenced you. He really was upset.

“(Name), I wouldn’t miss this if I was in the hospital dying!” He explained, laughing sourly, “Your success is my success, just like your happiness is my happiness.” Tilting your head up towards his face, you leaned into his chest, a small smile creeping onto your lips.

“Y’know, if you went to college, you would’ve made a great valedictorian.”

“You’re delusional woman,” he chuckled, “now, go out there and give them the speech of a lifetime.” A significant blush appeared on your cheeks, and you flashed him a silly grin.

“I’m sorry for doubting you, Yuta,” you muttered. He clicked his tongue, and pushed you out the door.

“Don’t be sorry, just do well, okay?”

His heart shattered in every way possible when he made it to your room. The blinds had been pulled up, and what he saw terrified him. The cup of water on your bedside table had been emptied and the sheets on your bed had been stripped. The only thing that remained was a fresh bouquet of elusive black roses.

Walking into your room, he went straight to the horrific flowers. A piece of white in all of the darkness caught his eye. It was a note. As small and insignificant as it was, it offered a sense of hope. It made his fragmented heart swell, just as it was plunged back into the dark abyss that was agony.

On the slip of paper, there was one word written.

‘Goodbye.’

Reluctantly, he allowed the sobs held not-so-securely inside of him to be released. Yuta fell to his knees in front of the nightstand and whimpered as salty droplets fell from his eyes to the floor. Normally, this would never happen. But, everything has to happen once in a lifetime ... including death ... 

When Yuta pulled himself up from the ground, the top halves of his knees peeking out beneath his distressed jeans were bloodied and bruised. Dried tears made his face stiff and his skin rough. He balled himself up, and just rocked back and forth for a few minutes. He cried into his folded arms, and prayed to whatever was listening for this all to be a grossly realistic nightmare.

Yuta tried everything he had learned from the movies. He tried pinching himself, he tried splashing cold water on his face, and he even went back outside to let the brisk wind collide with his wet cheeks. But, to no avail.

Again, he passed through the automatic hospital doors, and when he reached your room once more, he was met with the pitiful appearance of your parents.

Your father stared unseeingly at the ceiling, and your mother had her face buried in her tiny hands. Misty-eyed and brokenhearted already, this situation physically, mentally, and emotionally furthered his fragmentation.

“Where is she?” Yuta asked, “Where is she?! I need to see her.”

Everything went silent. The staff stopped their nonsensical chirping, and the atmosphere grew so thick that a chef would have to use a butcher knife to cut it. Yuta’s froze in a manic stance, and the blood in his veins ran ice cold. Your mother pulled her swollen, puffy face out of her palms to glare at Yuta.