03 ; never be | l.dh
pairing: pianist! haechan x f!reader (ft. lee jeno)
genre: angst, unrequited love, slow burn, childhood friends
warning: heartbreak!
status: completed!
synopsis — you've loved lee donghyuck since the day he enchanted you with his melancholy. from childhood days to fleeting teenage years, you followed him faithfully—drawn to his warmth, his brilliance, the way he seemed to glow wherever he went. to you, he was everything. to him, you were barely there.he never looked your way, never cared enough to notice the pieces of yourself you gave so freely. he never understood why you stayed so close, why you shadowed his every step with unwavering affection. and yet, you couldn’t stop—because you loved him just that much. but years of being invisible to the golden boy take their toll, leaving you fractured and questioning whether you ever mattered at all. and when you finally slip away, donghyuck is left behind—forced to confront the haunting truth of a love he never acknowledged until it was already gone.
author's note: hi lovelies~ behold the final chapter of never be. this chapter was truly heartbreaking for me to write🥲 that being said, we have finally come to the end of the never be series! originally i tried to expand the story to chapter four but realised it would've been better to just leave it as it already is but there could be a possibility of an epilogue depending on the demand for it :") thank you guys so much for the love and support!!! especially taking the time to read my silly little stories🥺🩵 now this little lowly author will be off focusing on sbu's finale!!!!!!!!!! see you guys there🩵
⋆˚꩜｡ m.list | previous chapter | epilogue
appreciating good music never felt so difficult until it came to wendy. you really tried to enjoy the music, but you simply couldn't. you don't realise that jeno's eyes were on you throughout the entire time the same way your watery eyes were fixed on the edge of your dress.
applause erupted, loud and alive all around you. but it felt far away, muffled, as though you were underwater.
donghyuck was clapping, too. you watched his hands move, the faint smile on his lips, the way his eyes stayed on the stage even after she had taken her bow. and for a moment, you just sat there — perfectly still — tulips wilting quietly between his knees, your heart heavy in your chest.
when the crowd began to rise, you did too, slow and detached, your fingers finding the edge of your dress as if grounding yourself in something tangible.
people around you were talking, laughing, voices overlapping in a blur of congratulations and admiration. it should have been a beautiful evening. and maybe it was, for everyone else. but definitely not for you.
you waited for donghyuck to spare you a glance, counting down the minutes when he gave you the attention you've been searching for. his expression soft, almost proud. “she’s amazing, right?” he said, his voice still full of the glow that hadn’t once been meant for you.
you looked at him for a long moment, searching for a trace of guilt, of awareness — something that said he’d noticed how small you’d felt sitting beside him. but there was nothing. just that same bright-eyed warmth he always carried when music was involved and perhaps the undeniable look of something more than admiration that got your heart tearing into pieces.
"yeah," you said quietly. "she is."
he smiled, reaching for your hand, fingers brushing over yours in an absent gesture. "come on," he says as he lightly pulled you along with him, "let’s go say hi to her,"
“actually, hyuck,” you stopped him, your voice barely above a whisper. “i’m not feeling too good. maybe i’ll wait for you at the entrance?” you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes. god knows if he’d even notice — the tears you were holding back, the quiet tremor in your voice, the way disappointment had already consumed you fully on what was supposed to be your special day.
donghyuck’s brows furrowed, a faint crease forming between them. “it’s just a hi though,” he said, tone edged with impatience. and then, just like that, he dropped your hand, as if it was the easiest thing in the world to do. “it’ll be quick.”
you shook your head, stepping back, clutching your arms to yourself. “no, i’m really not feeling well, hyuck.” you bit your lips in an attempt to calm yourself down. donghyuck exhaled sharply, looking away. the sound alone felt like a door closing between you. and in that brief moment — the distance in his gaze, the frustration that flickered across his face — you realised just how far his thoughts were from you.
“fine, y/n,” he muttered, voice clipped. “i’ll meet you by the entrance.”
and then he turned, walking away — towards her, towards a world that didn’t include you — leaving you standing there in the quiet ache of what love shouldn’t have felt like yet you still want him to be the one.
you kept your head low as you made your way toward the entrance, your gaze fixed on the marble floor glinting beneath your shoes. your fingers pressed over your heart — as if holding it in place could stop it from splintering. each breath came slow, trembling, the kind you took when you were trying not to fall apart in front of strangers. strangers who, by some cruel twist, all shared the same admiration for the girl who so clearly held donghyuck’s heart.
“y/n!” xiaojun’s voice cut through the noise, warm and familiar, but you could only muster a weak wave before quickening your pace. you just needed to be out. out of the lights, out of the laughter, out of the world that felt like it was caving in.
the grand doors closed behind you, the muffled sounds of music and chatter fading into the cold night air. you sank down against the nearest wall, your knees folding under you as a shaky breath escaped your lips.
this is horrible.
everything is horrible.
the thoughts echoed like a broken recorder in your head until another voice reached you, softer this time, “hey, love.” jeno crouched in front of you, his hand landing gently on your shoulder. you looked up, eyes glassy, lips trembling under the weight of everything you’d been holding in. “jeno…” your voice cracked, small and helpless.
he didn’t say anything at first, just pulled you in — his arms wrapping around you like a shelter you didn’t realize you needed. you buried your face into his shoulder, tears spilling freely as he rubbed small, calming circles on your back.
“he’s a dick,” he muttered into your hair. a broken laugh slipped out of you, half-sob, half-giggle, your tears soaking through his shirt. “no,” you mumbled against him, pulling back just enough to look at him. “i’m stupid. for expecting something special.”
jeno shook his head, his hands still at your waist, unwilling to let you drift too far. “no,” he said quietly, eyes fierce in their softness. “he’s the one who’s stupid.”
he reached up, cupping your face in his palms, his thumbs brushing away the tears that clung stubbornly to your skin. “let me take you out, y/n.”
you blinked, dumbfounded. “what?”
“we can still save your birthday,” he said, a small hopeful grin forming despite the tension in his voice. “come on. let me take you out.” you hesitated, your heart still sore, looking back at the door in hopes that donghyuck would come out any second but he didn't.
“okay,” you whispered, nodding.
jeno smiled, relief flickering across his face as he draped his jacket over your shoulders. his hand found yours, fingers threading together easily, and before you could even process the heartache that lingered, he was already pulling you along — away from the building, away from the noise, away from everything that hurt.
away from lee donghyuck.
jeno led you through the city like he knew exactly where to take your broken heart to breathe again. the streets were slick autumn leaves, the lamps painting the pavement in soft gold. his warm hands never left yours.
he stopped in front of a small place tucked between two tall buildings — its windows glowing amber, faint laughter spilling out from inside. a sign above the door read “mēness,” in looping cursive.
“trust me?” he asked, glancing at you with a boyish grin.
you gave him a skeptical look jokingly before nodding. "of course."
the moment you stepped in, the world shifted. the hum of conversations, the smoky melody of a saxophone, the low clink of glasses — it all wrapped around you like some sort of impending excitement. the air smelled of honeyed whiskey and old wood, and for a second, it felt like stepping into another lifetime.
jeno guided you towards the bar, exchanging familiar smiles and waves. “this is my spot,” he said proudly. “i used to come here after late-night practices. they’ve got the best music and better whiskey in my opinion.”
on stage, the jazz band was setting the room alight — a sultry blend of brass and rhythm that curled through the air like invisible smoke. every note was alive, humming with energy that made your pulse quicken, the kind of sound that tugged at your feet, coaxing your shoulders to sway with the beat. it wasn’t just music — it was motion, heat, and heartbeat all at once. and you couldn't believe that lee jeno was a man of jazz. what a surprise!
“jeno!” the trumpet player — a wiry man with a voice like gravel — lit up when he saw him. “look who the cat dragged in! thought you went off to the world of rock music and forgot all about us kid.”
jeno laughed, bumping fists with him. “c’mon, mr son. you know i could never forget the blue notes.”
“oh, you flatter us.” the bassist, a woman named hana, smirked, leaning her stringbass against the wall. her gaze flicked toward you curiously. “and who’s this gorgeous lady?”
jeno turned, hand still at the small of your back. “this gorgeous lady,” he said with a grin, “is y/n.”
hana's brows lifted, teasing glint in her eyes. “your girlfriend?”
jeno chuckled, glancing down at you before looking back at them. “not just my girlfriend,” he said, a spark of pride in his tone, “but an absolute banger of a drummer.”
you blinked, almost choking at how jeno just called you his girlfriend, heat rising to your cheeks. “jeno!”
the band erupted in laughter, and mr. park shook his head, clearly amused. “a drummer, huh? well, we could use some fresh blood tonight.”
“you hear that, y/n?” jeno teased, nudging you lightly. “you’re up.”
you gawked at him. “jeno, i’ve never played jazz before!” he grinned, that godforsaken mischievous easy grin that always made it hard to say no. “then tonight’s the night you let your instincts take over. don’t think. just… feel it.”
before you could protest further, he tugged you towards the stage. the room erupted into applause when the crowd realised what was happening. the regulars cheering jeno’s name like an old friend returning home. and you wondered just how many side hustles does jeno have to be constantly doing everything and anything?
jeno slid onto the worn piano bench, fingers hovering over the keys, and shot you a reassuring look. “feel the music my love,” you swallowed hard, nodding, drumsticks trembling slightly in your hands as you took your seat behind the kit.
then — he started. a simple melody at first, gentle and lazy, spilling from his fingertips like honey. it was playful, almost flirtatious, winding through the smoky air in golden loops. you watched him, the way his shoulders swayed, the way he let the music breathe — and soon, your own rhythm began to rise to meet his.
the sticks tapped softly at first, hesitant, then stronger, bolder. your heart followed the beat. hana joined in with the stringbass, her notes deep and warm, mr. son's trumpet sang out in response and jisung's saxophone serenading the crowd.
the crowd began to clap along, soft at first, then louder, until the whole room was alive with it.
jeno looked up at you mid-phrase, his smile wide and wild, eyes sparkling like he hadn’t seen joy in ages. you couldn’t help but laugh — the kind of laugh that came from somewhere deep, something finally loosening in your chest.
he shifted the rhythm suddenly, throwing in a run of bright, tumbling chords, and you caught it perfectly — instinct, just like he said.
“see?” he called out between notes. “told you you’d be fine!”
you tossed your hair back, matching his grin. “shut up and play, lee jeno!”
the bar roared with laughter and applause. the blue notes picked up the tempo, the trumpet soaring, the bass thrumming steady beneath your drums. it wasn’t just music anymore — it was a conversation.
when the song finally ended, the sound of clapping and whistles filled the room. you and jeno were both breathless, faces flushed, your hearts racing like you’d run through a storm and come out laughing on the other side.
jeno stood and reached for you, pulling you up beside him. his arm slipped easily around your waist as he leaned close, his voice low in your ear. “you were incredible.”
you turned to look at him, your face still warm, and for a moment it felt like the whole room blurred around the two of you — the lights, the noise, everything melting into gold and laughter. “so were you,” you whispered.
and maybe it was the music still humming in your veins, or the way he was looking at you like you were the best thing that had happened all night — but for the first time that day, it felt like your birthday again.
after your impromptu set, mēness's only seemed to glow brighter. the lights felt softer, the laughter warmer, the night stretching wide and endless before you.
the blue notes stayed on stage, cycling through an easy set of familiar jazz standards, their music weaving through the haze of conversation and clinking glasses. the crowd had mellowed into a pleasant buzz — some couples dancing lazily by the stage, others tucked away in quiet corners, bathed in golden light.
jeno guided you back to the bar, his hand finding the small of your back like it belonged there. “two old fashioneds,” he told the bartender, flashing that boyish grin that could melt anyone’s bad mood.
you laughed as you perched on the stool beside him. “since when do you drink old fashioneds?”
“since i started pretending i have refined taste,” he quipped, sliding a coaster toward you. “cheers, birthday girl.”
you clinked your glasses together, the sound small but sweet against the hum of saxophones. the first sip burned — then warmed you, the same way jeno’s laughter always did.
“you know,” you said, turning toward him, “if i’d known you could play jazz like that, i would’ve hired you for my mother's sixtieth birthday celebration party.”
jeno smirked, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “you couldn’t afford me.”
“oh please.”
the banter came easy, laughter spilling between sips, your knees brushing every so often. the air between you hummed like a low note in a song that hadn’t quite ended.
when the next tune started — something slow, crooning, achingly romantic — hana looked down from the stage and called out, “hey, birthday girl! this one’s for you!” the crowd cheered, and you groaned, burying your face in your hands. jeno chuckles at your cuteness, sliding off his stool and holding out his hand. “come on.”
“jeno—”
“no excuses,” he said softly, his eyes dancing. “let’s give them a show.” you hesitated only a second before taking his hand. he led you towards the small open space before the stage, the dim lights catching on his grin, the faint smell of whiskey and citrus between you.
the saxophone crooned something slow and heavy, and jeno pulled you close, one hand at your waist, the other holding your fingers like they were something fragile.
"you know," he murmured, his voice low enough that only you could hear, "your got an absolutely gorgeous smile,"
you tilted your head, your smile small but real. “really?”
"yeah." he chuckled lowly, "you should smile like this more often."
and there, in that tiny jazz bar — surrounded by strangers, music, and the faint scent of vanilla and smoke — you swayed with him. his forehead brushed yours, your breaths mingling in time with the music.
but even in the haze of laughter and escapism, with the warmth of the room wrapping around you, your mind drifted back to lee donghyuck. to the way his touch felt, warm and fiery like home pressed against your skin. to the way his fingers would absentmindedly trace the curve of your ear, a habit that never failed to make you melt. you could almost feel it now, phantom and tender. and god, you wanted him — the comfort of his presence, the quiet gravity of being his, even if he never said the words out loud.
later, after another drink (and another, and another), the two of you ended up back on stage again. it wasn’t planned — nothing that night was — but when hana called for you both to jam again, you didn’t even think before grabbing the sticks.
jeno laughed as he sat back at the keys. “think you can keep up miss l/n?”
you smirked, twirling one of the sticks. “try me.”
the band erupted into something fast and bright — a blur of brass, bass, and laughter. jeno’s fingers flew, you matched every beat, and the two of you played like the world had fallen away.
by the time the last note faded, your chest hurt from laughing, your cheeks flushed from the drinks and the rush and the way jeno kept looking at you like you were something he never wanted to stop hearing.
outside, the city was still awake when you finally stumbled out together — his jacket still around your shoulders, your fingers brushing with every step.
“so,” jeno said softly, tilting his head toward you, his voice almost shy now. “birthday saved?”
you looked up at him, the glow from the streetlight catching in his hair, the faintest smile tugging at your lips.
“more than saved,” you said. “it was… perfect.”
jeno’s smile widened — small, soft, and maybe a little sad, like he was afraid to let the moment go.
the two of you decided to take a slow stroll along the han river, the night breeze soft against your skin. jeno walked barefoot on the cool pavement, your heels dangling from one hand while the other steadied you — his fingers curled gently around yours as you tried to keep your balance in his slightly oversized loafers. you looked so effortlessly endearing, cheeks flushed from laughter, hair dancing with the wind, that jeno felt his heart stumble in his chest — the kind of ache that was both sweet and terrifying all at once. he prayed that you couldn't hear his booming heartbeat with how close you were standing next to him in this silent night.
you both lay side by side on the wide patch of grass, shoulders nearly touching, eyes fixed on the sky that refused to go completely dark. jeno was the first to break the silence. “you know...” he trailed, voice low, “i don’t get it.”
you turned your head slightly, the corner of your mouth lifting. “don’t get what?”
he hesitated, searching for the right words. “why you keep loving him.”
you blinked, your breath catching. he wasn’t asking to be cruel — you could tell by the softness in his tone. he was asking because he cared.
jeno sighed, propping an arm behind his head. “he doesn’t treat you the way you deserve to be treated, y/n. half the time he forgets you, the other half he takes you for granted. and yet, you look at him like…” his voice faded, then returned quieter, “like he’s the only damn person in the room.”
you exhaled slowly, watching the faint ripples of the river as you gathered your thoughts. “because he is,” you whispered.
jeno turned to look at you.
you smiled, though it trembled at the edges. “i know he seems like he doesn't give a care about the world. he's always the loudest person in every room, but the loneliest one too. people think they know him because he’s unapologetically confident, charming and talented. but they don’t see what i see.”
you paused, tracing patterns in the air with your fingers. “they don’t see the way his hands shake after performing, or how quiet he gets when the lights go down. they don’t know he hums under his breath when he can’t sleep. or that he really hates thunderstorms because it's so loud and fucks with his "energy", but will always pretend he doesn’t.”
jeno stayed silent, eyes never leaving you.
“when it’s just the two of us,” you continued softly, “he’s different. softer. sometimes he leans his head on my shoulder and talks about things he’s never said to anyone else — his fears, his insecurities, his dreams. and in those moments, i feel like i’m the only one who really knows him.”
“i know he doesn’t see me the way i see him,” you said quietly. “and maybe that’s the stupidest thing about it.” you laughed under your breath, but there was no real humour in it. you turned to meet his gaze, your eyes glassy in the dim light. “he’s like a song i can’t get out of my head. i know every word, every beat — even the ones that hurt. and no matter how many times it plays, i still can’t bring myself to skip it.”
you went on, your voice softening. “when he’s kind, he’s really kind. when he smiles at me, it feels like i’ve just won a billion dollars. so maybe that’s why i can’t let him go. because even if he doesn’t love me the same way, he lets me see parts of him no one else does. and that… that feels like something sacred.”
jeno’s expression shifted — a mixture of pain and understanding. you went on, your voice barely above a whisper.
“he makes me feel seen too. like i’m more than just another face in the crowd. when he looks at me, even for a second, i feel like he actually sees me — not the perfect version, not this me who seems to have everything figured out, but me.”
jeno’s throat bobbed as he looked at you, something tender flickering behind his eyes. he wanted to tell you that you deserved someone who saw you that way all the time — not just in fleeting moments. but he didn’t. not tonight.
instead, he reached out and brushed his pinky against yours. it wasn’t a confession, or a promise. just quiet understanding.
you both lay there until the sky began to shift — dark blue softening into the faint blush of dawn.
and for that one moment, beneath the soft hum of the city, it didn’t matter that your heart belonged to someone who might never return it. you had the river, the stars, and the gentle weight of jeno’s hand beside yours — a small mercy for a love too big to hold.
the sky was already light by the time you got home — a soft shade of gold spilling through the cracks of the apartment blinds. your steps were quiet, careful, the kind of quiet that came after a night that didn’t quite belong to you.
you were still replaying jeno’s laughter in your head, the sound of the river, the feel of cool grass beneath your fingers. it had been a night of breathing again — one where you could forget, for just a little while, the weight of loving lee donghyuck.
but the moment you turned the doorknob, the illusion shattered.
“where the hell have you been?”
donghyuck’s voice cut through the silence, sharp and cold. he was sitting on the couch, still in the same clothes he’d worn to wendy’s concert, his hair messy like he’d been running his hands through it for hours. his phone sat on the coffee table, screen lit up with missed calls. your missed calls.
you froze in the doorway, blinking at him. “i—”
“i’ve been calling you all night.” he stood now, anger radiating off him in waves. “you disappear, you don’t answer your phone, you don’t text— what was i supposed to think, y/n?”
you swallowed hard, setting your bag down by the door. “hyuck, calm down—”
“don’t tell me to calm down,” he snapped. “i waited for you outside the hall. i turned around and you were gone. do you know how worried i was?”
his voice cracked at the end, the edge of worry buried under frustration, and somehow that made it worse.
"i'm sorry hyuck i didn't mean to worry you, my phone battery went flat." you reached for him only for him to take a step back away from you. you winced at the distance he had kept between the two of you. "hyuck please, i'm sorry i wasn't feeling good and jeno sa—"
his brows shot up, disbelief twisting into fury. “jeno? you were with jeno? all night?”
your lips parted, guilty eyes reaching his.
he laughed under his breath — bitter, outraged. “unbelievable.”
you dropped your heels by the door, shoulders tense. “i didn’t plan it, hyuck. i was upset, and he was trying to cheer me up—”
“cheer you up from what?” he cut in, voice rising. “what mess could possibly justify you going missing and shutting me out?”
you stared at him, the words clawing at your throat. “your mess, hyuck.”
his expression faltered. “what are you talking about?”
"why did you take me to see her?" you whispered, the tremor in your voice breaking through. “we could’ve gone anywhere. hell, i would’ve been happy with ramen at home — just us. but instead, you had to take me to her.”
“she’s talented,” he shot back quickly. “i thought you’d enjoy it too—”
“enjoy it?” your voice cracked, rising higher. “you thought i’d enjoy sitting in a room watching you look at the girl you once loved like she hung the damn moon? on my birthday, hyuck? you didn’t even remember that we were supposed to see arctic monkeys—”
he groaned, raking a hand through his hair. “their music isn’t even that good, y/n! wendy’s performance was— it was meaningful. her music’s real.”
“no,” you snapped, stepping closer until your chest brushed his. “it’s only real for you. not for me.”
his jaw clenched. “you’re being unfair.”
“am i? is it not unfair to drag me along just so you can stare at her like i do not exist at all? i mean wha—” you exhaled, voice cracking under the weight of it all. "what even are we at this point?" you finally asked the question.
“you can be honest,” you whispered, your voice breaking into something small, something raw. “i just… i just want to know where i stand.,”
the air between you was thick — with anger, hurt, confusion — everything that had been festering in the shadows of what the two of you refused to name.
donghyuck’s eyes darkened, his chest rising and falling unevenly. “what are we?” he echoed, almost like he didn’t understand the question.
you swallowed, your voice trembling but steady. “yeah, hyuck. what are we? because you can’t—” you broke off, trying to breathe through the ache pressing against your ribs. “you can’t kiss me, hold me, make me believe i’m yours one day, and then take me to see the girl you once loved the next. that doesn't even make any sense!”
for a moment, neither of you spoke. the morning light was pouring into the room now, pale gold painting over the sharp lines of his face, softening nothing.
“you’re—” donghyuck’s breath stuttered, his fists curling at his sides.
you watched him struggle, his chest rising and falling too fast, his gaze fixed somewhere on the floor like the answer might be written in the grain of the wood. every second of silence dragged like a knife.
and then he said it.
“you’re my… you’re my best friend.” the words left his mouth like a verdict, and for a moment, everything inside you went still. you felt it then — that sinking, weightless drop, as if your heart had fallen straight through the floorboards and landed somewhere six feet under. you shouldn’t have been surprised. part of you knew this was coming. part of you had always known. but knowing didn’t make it hurt any less.
“okay,” you whispered, nodding slowly. your voice didn’t even sound like yours. “that’s fine too.” you forced a small, trembling smile, the kind that felt like it might split you open from the inside. “really. that’s fine.”
“y/n, come on—” he started, taking a step forward.
“no, really,” you cut him off with a shaky bitter laugh, “i needed to hear that from you.”
you ran a hand through your hair, desperate to keep yourself together — as if tidying up could somehow fix the mess that had just been made of your heart. and then you excused yourself. you brushed past him, catching the faint scent of his cologne, that familiar warmth that used to feel like home. he reached out as if to stop you, but his hand hovered mid-air before falling back to his side.
you walked straight into your room and locked the door behind you. you slid down the door, your knees giving out as the first sob tore through your chest — quiet at first, then louder, rawer, until your breathing came in broken gasps.
how could something that was never yours to begin with hurt this much?
your gaze blurred through the tears until it landed on your bed — on the small, elegant box resting there, wrapped in silver paper. you crawled toward it on trembling hands. inside, nestled in satin, was a delicate necklace — a silver grand piano pendant that gleamed faintly in the morning light.
the gift he’d given you before all of this.
you clutched the box to your chest, pressing it against your heart as if it could hold you together — and finally let the sobs come, unrestrained and aching.
donghyuck awoke to the soft thud of the front door closing. he didn’t need to look at the clock to know what time it was — you always left before sunrise.
for the past seven months, that had been your routine. you’d slip out quietly while the rest of the world still slept, and come home long after dark, sometimes not at all. on nights when he stayed up waiting, he’d catch the faintest rustle from the bushes outside the apartment — the sound of you sneaking through your window rather than facing him at the front door.
it was ridiculous, really. tragic, even.
donghyuck hated it — the distance, the silence, the deliberate avoidance. he couldn’t understand why you went so far to draw that line between you. was being your best friend really that unbearable? was he?
he sighed, dragging a hand through his hair as he pushed himself out of bed. his body ached with the kind of exhaustion that came from more than just lack of sleep.
on his way to the washroom, a glint of silver caught his eye — the familiar box sitting untouched on his study desk.
the necklace.
the one he’d given you for your birthday.
donghyuck stared at it for a long moment, chest tightening. the box was exactly left the way it was before — pristine, undisturbed. the silver of the pendant inside still shone like it hadn’t seen the light of day.
you had never worn it.
his jaw clenched, something bitter bubbling beneath his ribs. he didn’t even know if it was anger, guilt, or the humiliation of realising that even his gifts weren’t wanted anymore. with a frustrated growl, he swept the box off the desk. it hit the wall with a dull thud before landing somewhere on the carpet, forgotten.
that was it.
he couldn’t do this anymore — couldn’t keep existing under the same roof, pretending not to notice how far away you had already drifted.
grabbing his keys, he stormed out the door.
he knew exactly where to find you.
your band’s studio sat in a narrow alley, always lit even at ungodly hours. he could already hear faint basslines from the outside, the muffled hum of laughter filtering through the glass.
he stepped closer and peered through the small window — and there you were.
you and jeno.
sitting close, heads tilted toward the same screen, the morning light spilling over your faces. you were smiling — soft and tired, but genuine — the kind of smile you hadn’t given him in months. jeno was saying something, a grin tugging at his lips as he passed you one of those little sandwiches he always made.
donghyuck’s stomach twisted. his tongue pressed hard against the inside of his cheek until he tasted iron. he turned on his heel and marched straight to the door, rapping his knuckles against it — once, twice, then harder.
you flinched at the sound. jeno looked up first, brows furrowing.
you stood, smoothing your clothes before opening the door — and there he was, standing under the harsh fluorescent light, his expression unreadable.
“hyuck—”
before you could finish, he grabbed your wrist, his grip tight, pulling you out into the hallway.
“hyuck, stop—”
he didn’t stop until you were far enough from the studio that jeno couldn’t hear. only then did you yank your hand back, rubbing the faint red mark blooming across your skin.
“what are you doing?” you snapped, your voice low but shaking.
donghyuck’s eyes burned into yours. “no,” he said, voice rough, almost trembling. “the real question is, what the hell are you doing?”
you blinked, taken aback. “what—”
“why are you avoiding me like I’m the damn plague?” he cut in, stepping closer, his tone sharp enough to cut through air. his words landed heavy, the frustration he’d been holding back for months finally spilling through the cracks.
you stood frozen for a moment, stunned by how raw he sounded. because for seven whole months, he hadn’t said a word.
“i’m not avoiding you,” you lied, your voice barely above a whisper.
donghyuck scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “oh really?” he said, tilting his head, sarcasm dripping like venom. “then what do you call climbing through your window every night instead of using the damn front door like a normal person?”
his words echoed between the walls, and for a heartbeat, neither of you breathed. because he wasn’t wrong — but that didn’t make any of this easier to face.
"i just needed some space, hyuck," you said softly, exhaling as you ran a hand through your hair, the words tasting like defeat.
donghyuck blinked, his expression twisting — disbelief first, then something close to anger. “space?” he repeated, voice low, incredulous. “you decided you needed space— after years of clinging to me like i was the only person you had?”
his tone wasn’t cruel, but it stung all the same — a sharp reminder of how much your love burned for lee donghyuck. “what the fuck does that even mean? space? what’s wrong with us?” he demanded, stepping forward, eyes searching yours like he was trying to find an answer that would make sense.
you shook your head, heart pounding. “hyuck, please don’t do this,” you said, your voice trembling with exhaustion. “what we had…to me, it was obviously more than just best friends.” the words caught in your throat, bitter and heavy. “and that’s exactly why i thought we needed time apart — to draw some boundaries.”
donghyuck let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “wow,” he said, shaking his head. “thanks for letting me in on that decision, y/n.”
the bitterness in his tone burned through you, but you refused to back down this time. you couldn’t.
“why do you even care if i’m avoiding you, donghyuck?” you snapped, meeting his glare with one of your own. “you should be happy. now you’re free to pursue whoever you want without me getting in your way.” your voice broke on the last word, but you stood your ground — even as he stared at you, chest heaving, his silence saying everything he didn’t have the courage to.
donghyuck’s jaw flexed, his breath coming out ragged. he took a step closer, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his anger — or maybe it was hurt, you couldn’t tell anymore.
“is that what you think this is about?” he said, voice shaking despite how hard he was trying to sound steady. “you think i care because i want to pursue someone else?”
you stayed silent, eyes fixed on the ground. you couldn’t look at him — not when he sounded that wounded.
“god, you really don’t get it, do you?” he muttered, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “you disappear on me. you shut me out. and every night, i sit there wondering what the hell i did to be treated this way. do you hate me now?”
“i don’t hate you,” you said quickly, looking up. your voice cracked under the weight of it. “you’re the last person i could ever hate, hyuck.”
“then why does it feel like you do?” he said quietly.
“because being around you hurts,” you whispered. “i love you, hyuck.” the words slipped out like a confession you’d been holding in for far too long — soft, trembling, fragile. your voice barely carried above the air between you, but it was enough. it was enough to make donghyuck’s breath catch, his eyes widening like you’d just handed him something far too heavy to hold.
“i love you,” you said again, quieter this time, almost afraid to hear yourself say it. “and i thought—” your throat tightened, “—i thought maybe you could love me back. i thought that maybe, after everything, you already did.”
you let out a bitter laugh, blinking hard to keep your tears at bay. “but that’s on me for believing that you could ever see me as anything more.”
donghyuck shook his head, taking a step back as if your words burned. “i—” he stammered, the syllable breaking off like a snapped string. “y/n, it’s not—”
“not what?” you pressed, your voice trembling, desperate. “not what i think? not love? because it feels like it, hyuck. every time you hold me, every time you look at me like I’m something you can’t quite let go of. it feels like love. but maybe that’s just what you’re best at — making people believe in things that aren’t real.”
he flinched, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “don’t say that,” he said softly, his voice cracking. “you know i care about you.”
“care about me?” you laughed, a sharp sound breaking through the ache. “i don’t need you to care about me, donghyuck. i needed you to love me. i needed you to choose me — not out of habit, not out of guilt, but because you actually wanted to.”
the silence between you felt deafening, the kind that pressed heavy against your chest. you took a shaky breath, blinking through the blur of tears.
“i was okay with being your second choice,” you admitted quietly, your voice breaking on the words. “i would’ve stayed. i would’ve taken whatever scraps of you you could give me, hyuck, because i loved you that much. i just needed to hear that you loved me too.”
his lips parted, but nothing came out. his eyes — wide, shining, full of everything he never said — met yours.
“but you don’t,” you finished for him, your voice barely a whisper.
and that was when something in him cracked — the way his shoulders slumped, the way his face fell, like the truth finally weighed too much to fight.
“y/n…” he breathed, stepping toward you. but you stepped back before he could reach you.
“don’t,” you said, shaking your head. “please don’t make this harder.”
your hands trembled as you wiped the tears from your cheeks, forcing a faint, broken smile. “i just needed you to know,” you whispered. “so i can finally stop pretending that you ever would.”
donghyuck had truly let you go the day you confessed. from that moment on, the two of you moved around each other like ghosts — silent, detached, strangers sharing the same air. the apartment that once buzzed with laughter and late-night conversations had turned cold, filled only with the hum of the refrigerator and the sound of doors quietly closing.
sometimes, he’d bring girls over. their laughter, their soft moans, their playful squeals against the paper-thin walls — all deliberate, all meant for you to hear. each sound was a knife disguised as noise, his way of convincing himself that he could forget you. that he wanted to forget you.
you pretended not to care. but every time the headboard hit the wall, something inside you cracked a little more.
donghyuck drowned himself in music, as if the right melody could erase you from his mind. albums dropped, stages lit up, the world screamed his name. while he was being cheered on under blinding lights, you buried yourself in coursework, your band slowly rising from underground gigs to small, packed venues.
jeno offered to share an apartment with you once, and you almost said yes. almost. but you gave the same tired excuse: “just one more year left with hyuck.”
as if you still owed him that last year.
as if part of you still needed to orbit around his world, even if you’d already been burned.
you still made his coffee every morning — two sugars, just how he liked it. he never touched it.
you still brought sunflowers to his shows, often handing it through mark on your behalf.
you still cooked dinner, leaving it neatly in the fridge, only for it to go cold, untouched, and eventually thrown away.
you did it all because you wanted him to know — you were still there. even if he pretended you weren’t.
so when the offer to study in Italy came, your first thought, stupidly, heartbreakingly — was of him. maybe this was finally the universe’s way of saying, go.
“come on, y/n,” xiaojun said, popping a chip into his mouth during your band’s late-night meeting. “you’ve been talking about europe for years. you can’t just turn this down.”
you sighed, fiddling with the straw of your drink. “yeah, but what about the band? we’ve finally built some momentum. I don’t wanna mess that up.”
ten waved his hand. “please. we’ve got enough unreleased tracks to keep our name alive for at least three years. go study. we’ll be fine.”
“plus, i'm sure you and jeno are gonna bring the big labels to us while you're there,” jaehyun added with a grin.
jeno nudged your shoulder lightly, his voice soft but certain. “you’ve dreamed of this, y/n. don’t let him—” he paused, then corrected himself. “—don’t let anything hold you back.”
you smiled, small and uncertain. you already knew you’d made up your mind.
that night, you found donghyuck on the couch, legs sprawled out, the TV light flickering over his face. he looked up when you entered, just briefly, before returning his gaze to his phone.
“hey,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. “hey,” he replied, tone flat, fingers tapping against the screen like you weren’t even there.
you swallowed hard. “um, I just wanted to tell you… I got an offer to study overseas.” you rubbed the back of your neck, gaze fixed on him. “it’s a pretty big opportunity.”
“nice,” he said simply, not looking up.
you bit the inside of your cheek. you shouldn’t have expected more, but part of you still did. part of you still hoped he’d at least ask where you were going.
“anyways,” you continued, forcing your voice steady, “i’ll be moving out by the end of the month.”
his thumb froze mid-scroll. you caught the slightest hitch in his breath — but he said nothing. didn’t even look at you. you nodded to yourself, knowing that it was your cue to leave him alone. “that’s all. goodnight, donghyuck.”
and then you turned away, missing the way his eyes flickered up just as you said his name — not hyuck, not hyuckie, not the name that used to fall so easily from your lips.
just donghyuck.
and for the first time in months, it actually sounded like goodbye. and donghyuck was afraid.
present day
“i’m leaving.” your voice rose just enough to wrestle with the melody spilling from the grand piano—those familiar keys, that sound you’d memorised like a second heartbeat.
you tightened your grip on the bag in your hand when donghyuck doesn't stop. he didn’t even turn. his eyes stayed shut, lost in the groove beneath his fingertips, as if twenty years of shared childhood and youth had never existed between you.
“i said i’m leaving.” you said louder this time.
turn around.
tell me to stay.
tell me i’m wrong to walk away.
please—just look at me.
but he didn’t. he couldn’t.
because if donghyuck turned around, if he let himself see the tremble in your lips, the tears balancing at the edge of your lashes, he’d break.
he’d admit it.
he’d admit that he’d loved you all along — from the day you told him he reminded you of sunflowers.
he’d admit that every melody he wrote had your name hidden in it. that every late night he had imagined a future with you in it — making music, chasing the same dreams, maybe even raising a kid who’d hum off-key lullabies.
but donghyuck had never been good at timing.
and now, he was too late.
so he kept playing, fingers pressing down harder on the keys — the only way he knew how to keep from falling apart. the music cracked slightly, the note trembling where his hand did.
he didn’t see the way your shoulders slumped, the way your chest caved under the weight of goodbye.
you stared at him for a long moment — memorising him one last time, the curve of his back, the way his hair caught the golden light spilling through the blinds, the quiet intensity in his stillness.
then you exhaled.
“goodbye, donghyuck,” you whispered, voice barely holding together. “i love you.”
the words hung in the air, delicate and doomed, swallowed by the final chord he struck on the piano.
he didn’t look up.
so you turned, pushing your luggage down the hall toward jeno’s waiting car. the sound of the piano followed you — hauntingly beautiful, hollow, and breaking all at once — until you shut the door behind you.
and just like that, the music stopped.
for a long while, donghyuck just sat there, still, his fingers still suspended above the keys, as if the music might bring you back if he just pressed the right notes. but there was no music left to play. not when the silence felt this final.
he lowered his hands slowly, staring at the ivory beneath his fingertips. your fingerprints were still faintly there — smudged from all the nights a few years ago you’d leaned against the piano, laughing at his stubborn perfectionism. he used to hate when you touched his instruments. now, he wished you would. one more time.
donghyuck leaned back, breathing in shallowly. the scent of you still lingered — vanilla and something faintly citrus, the way it always clung to his sweaters after you borrowed them. he could almost hear your voice echoing through the apartment, soft and teasing. He could almost believe you’d walk out of your room any second now, hair messy, coffee in hand, scolding him for composing before breakfast.
but you wouldn’t.
not anymore.
his gaze shifted to the empty coffee mug on the table — the one you’d kept filling even when he stopped drinking it. the surface had gathered dust, like everything else he’d refused to face.
for the first time, he let himself whisper it into the empty room.
“i love you too.”
// the end
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