#angstyoneshot

You recognized me, of course. I wasn’t surprised, with the way my face is plastered all over the internet, but I couldn’t help the twinge of disappointment that ran through me. It was cute how you pretended not to know who I was, though.

I asked you out, and although at first you were cautious, you gave in after a few days of texts and a phone call or two. Taking you to a lavish restaurant was a mistake. You grew apprehensive when you saw the prices on the menu, even more so when I asked you to relax and just let me take care of it. Clearly, you weren’t the kind of girl that cared about that sort of thing.

The next date went better. Just a local cafe, with regularly-priced drinks and plates of food. You were finally able to relax, and talk, and laugh. God, I loved your laugh. The way you scrunched your nose as you giggled tipped the scales, making me fall hard for you.

When the three weeks of my vacation were up, I was already calling you my girlfriend. We talked about you moving to Seoul to be closer to me, but even I knew the distance would be difficult no matter what. Still, you were strong. You knew who I was before we met, and therefore, knew the life you were agreeing to. The separation was hard, but it was made easier by nightly video chats and a constant stream of texts.

After six months, you moved to Seoul. I remember picking you up at the airport and swinging you around, peppering your face with kisses as you laughed. I was so happy, then. Everything seemed right… until it wasn’t.

As the months of our relationship went on, the sparks between us cooled off and we grew more comfortable around each other. You wore less makeup and more leggings, there was a drawer of your stuff at my place, and we started spending nights in rather than going out. I didn’t mind this, really. It was nice being able to be more myself around you and not have to try so hard. Unfortunately, that was exactly the problem… Both of us stopped trying, and our relationship suffered because of it.

More time passed, and you ended up moving in with me. It was great, because for the first little while, we entered that honeymoon phase again. Something new and exciting… but that didn’t last long. As each day passed, I realized that girl that I met a year and a half ago, who I fell so hard for on that cafe date, who used to make my stomach flip over itself, who used to make my heart feel full just by looking at me… was no longer that special.

We barely tolerated each other, constantly fighting over stupid stuff and snapping at each other. Our relationship took a turn for the worst. It wasn’t bad or anything… but it wasn’t good, either. And no matter what we did, no matter how many times we tried to change or make it right, the relationship we both used to treasure was on a steady decline. We started saying “I love you” less, replacing it with phrases like, “Goodnight,” or, “See you tomorrow.” Neither of us questioned it or brought it up. In the back of our minds, I think we both knew where things were heading. After all, a relationship ultimately ends one of two ways. You either break up, or you stay together.

Finally, the day came where you said those dreaded words. “Jimin… Do you even love me anymore?”

We were sitting on our couch, and you were looking at me while I refused to look anywhere but at the ground in front of me. “No,” I muttered after a few minutes of silence. “I don’t.”

Despite this confession being nothing new, I still remember the hurt in your eyes that caused tears to well up and trickle down. I slept on the couch that night, listening to you sob. I could practically hear your heart breaking, but I could no longer keep lying to myself and, more importantly, to you. This wasn’t working anymore.

A week passed, and you had found a new place and were moving out. “It’s for the best,” you said, hands shoved in your jacket pockets, looking anywhere but at me.

I nodded in agreement. I didn’t want to hurt you anymore. Being gone for months at a time, the late-night practices, the long hours at the recording studio… I knew it wasn’t easy on you. I wanted to stop the pain.

Another year passed, and I began seeing pictures of you on social media with another guy. He wasn’t a celebrity or anyone special, but you seemed happy. I noticed the way you scrunched your nose had come back… too bad it was no longer just for me.

It was our last concert of our tour, which we chose to end in Seoul. We were singing Mikrokosmos and waving goodbye to all our fans, when my heart nearly stopped. There you were, smiling up at me, singing your heart out. He was behind you with his arms wrapped around you, swaying you both in time to the beat, smiling and laughing as he leaned down and kissed your cheek.

I pretended not to see you, keeping a taut smile on my face as I waved goodbye to the rest of the crowd. So this is what our relationship has come down to. We’re just… nothing. Complete strangers. Our lives will never intertwine again, and even if they did, it would never be the same. Every kiss, every night together, every trip has boiled down to absolutely nothing but memories. Did it even really happen?

I felt disappointment roil through me the same way a thundercloud rolls over a sunny sky. How did I let things get to this point? How did I ever let you go? I kept pushing you away in the name of stopping the hurt, but I never gave a thought to my own feelings. I lied back then. I loved you. I loved you so much. Part of me still loves you. We should’ve ended up getting married, not as complete strangers.

As the stage lowered and we waved goodbye to our fans for the final time, I locked eyes with you and watched your sharp inhale as you realized I was looking at you. As if of its own accord, my hand reached out and I gave a little wave just for you. You gave me a half-smile and waved back. The only difference is, I was trying to say hello. I didn’t want to be strangers anymore. I wanted you back in my life, back to the point where you felt comfortable enough around me to eat as messily as you wanted and to wear whatever you felt like. You, however, were saying goodbye. For the last time. For forever.

I came to that realization as the stage hit the ground and staff swarmed me, offering me towels to wipe sweat away and bottles of water. I’d never have another chance. Our lives were on two completely different paths. It would never be the same.

Waving everyone off, I walked towards my dressing room, numbness taking over as my subconscious tried to protect me from the pain. So this is what regret feels like.

It’s crazy how relationships work. Or rather, how they don’t.

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