#hoi.sb

few hours ago

You are in your office's cafeteria, making yourself a cup of coffee before joining your superiors for a publicity meeting.

Oh God, this better go right.

This meeting was really important from your current project's perspective as the whole outcome of the project depended on it.

The company visiting today was going to be present for the meeting and you had to try your best to convince them for headlining the project. After all, your personal career graph could make a steep rise if you managed to ace this one.

Taking a deep breath, you swiftly turn around, ready to do your best when,

"Argh what the fuck?!" You hear a deep voice growl lowly.

Already moving to help, you quickly grab some paper towels from the counter and pass it to the stranger, "Shit I'm so sorry. Really. I didn't notice you there," you look wide-eyed at the man who's now wiping his suit jacket, looking down as his hair hides his eyes from your view.

"Can't you be a little more careful?" He lowkey spits.

"I said I'm sorry. This area is pretty much empty around this time everyday. So I didn't expect anyone to be here. I'm just-" you sigh, "I'm really sorry."

"Whatever," the man mumbles as he looks up towards you.

And it's like the moment freezes.

"Taehyung?!"

You can swear on your favourite noodles that you are not breathing right now. Or actually; you are pretty much on the verge of hyperventilation.

"____?" He looks surprised. No. Shocked. That's more accurate.

And you? Hearing your name leave his perfect lips after so long has you almost slipping into a trance. Except, you catch yourself. This is your workplace.

Clearing your throat, you try to sound as nonchalant as you possibly could with your breath still hitched, "Taehyung? What are you doing here?"

"You work here?" He asks instead with raised brows.

"You don't reply to a question with another question, Taehyung. But yes, as a matter of fact, I do," you fake a smile, "I mean....why else would I be here?" You look around, pretending innocence.

Taehyung snorts in response, "Still the same sassy woman huh?" He retorts, "But let me politely remind you that you are the one who goes about spilling brown liquids on the company's guests first thing in the morning."

"That's coffee and you know it," you sigh out, "And I said I'm sorry. Really. If you want, I can just get that cleaned for you?" You look at him, biting your lip.

Fuck.

Why does he have to be so handsome? Life isn't fair huh? Sending your childhood friend who's also your ex back into your life even if it's just as a company guest.

Wait.

Company guest?

You almost choke upon the realization. There's no way. Please, it cannot be what you think it is.

Looking up at him cautiously, you try, "What are you here for, Taehyung?"

He looks at you like you're saying something out of context, "Me? I'm here for a meeting. It's regarding some project publicity."

Oh fuck your life.

It just had to be that your ex that you know you are still very much attracted to had to be the guest for the meeting you are hosting.

Does it get any worse?

You look at Taehyung and he's staring at you sceptically.

"What?" He mouths.

You consider telling him about the situation but decide against it. You'll just have to do what you can and see what happens.

Instead you ask him again, "Are you sure you don't want to get that cleaned?" You ask, pointing at his suit.

He lets out a non-committal hum, "Nah there's not much time left anyway. Besides it's barely visible on the dark coloured cloth so whatever. It's fine." He shrugs, pouting adorably.

Yep. You sure are attracted to him. Even after all this time.

"Thank you," you smile, "I'll get going now, got work to do."

"Oh yeah sure. Go on ahead," he holds out his hand in a 'this way' gesture that has you smiling a little wider.

Surprisingly, the meeting goes smoothly.

As it comes, Taehyung is all professional and doesn't let any sliver of the past relationship between you two slip through into his judgement. Sharp nods and intuitive listening. That's who he is when it comes to work, you learned today.

As you're moving back to your cabin, you hear Taehyung call out to you, "Hey, ____!"

Turning around, you watch him moving in your direction with a grin on his face.

"You were amazing today, ____," he says honestly.

You blush at his words. "Thanks."

"Uhh I was thinking.....," he fidgets, "Are you free this Saturday?" He rubs the back of his head, looking, almost pleading you to consider his offer.

"Saturday? I guess. What's up?"

"Oh I thought maybe we could just catch up? I mean.....we'll be seeing each other more often now that this project is finalized," he lets out.

You consider his offer. It sounds like a nice idea to break the tension between you two.

But will it be nice for your heart though?

You nod your approval anyway and he grins so wide that any apprehension you had lifts away. You're sure you made the right decision.

You're sure.

Until some weeks pass by with you working under him for the project- where you learn that he's the CEO of the company headlining your project. Crazy.

Until you notice that's he's still a gentleman at heart. Always offering help and sharing comfort words. Encouraging you for sharing your ideas. Making you feel safe and heard.

Until you start wanting more than just his help with work and motivating words.

Until you realize that yes, you are indeed in love with him. Again. And just as bad.

Until you learn that he's dating a woman through a common friend of yours. Maybe someone who suits his current life much better than you ever would.

Until it feels like shards of glass digging into an old wound before falling away.

Until it feels all too late.

time skip- few weeks later

You're in a club, drinking away your feelings. Again.

Apparently, Taehyung has a way of making you do just that.

The bright neon lights in the dark club make you feel dizzy. Or it could be the drinks.

Who knows? Not you, that's for sure.

What you do know, however, is that it's true. You are indeed in love with Kim Taehyung.

Because how else can you explain the sharp pangs in your chest at the thought of him being with someone else?

Five years have passed and he still has this hold on your heart, ever present wherever you go.

Yes, your head hurts.

And when you think about Taehyung, it hurts a little more.

But then that song comes up, booming through the club like it's mocking you, and you feel your heart hurt too.

So I pour another shot

And I pretend that it's your lips,

Chase you down another round

Until I taste your whiskey kiss

You remember singing those very same lyrics with Taehyung at the top of your lungs back then.

All vivid memories.

And the difference is, back then, he closed the lyrics with a kiss on your lips.

Remembering that makes your heart break.

And when you remember Taehyung's smile at the end of the song, it breaks a little more.

So you decide not to let it end.

You decide to leave the club before the song ends.

And you do. You leave.

But it's Taehyung you're talking about. Of course he has to be present in your life, in the best and worst moments, at all times.

Because as you successfully leave the club before it could break you any further, another trace of Taehyung follows. Affecting you far more than the cold bite of the winter air ever could.

This time, in the form of his name lighting up your phone screen. He's calling you, this late at night. Huh weird.

Making sure your voice is steady enough, you answer the call, "Taehyung?"

"____? Where are you?"

You frown. He sounds kinda breathless.

"Taehyung, are you okay? What's up?"

"Are you home?" He rasps out, voice all desperate.

"No, I'm not. But why?"

"____, we need to talk."

He walks silently beside you, hood up and earbuds playing music dutifully in his ears. If he notices your struggle, he doesn’t show it, the same neutral expression present on his face like every other day.

Inwardly, you’re thankful for his nonchalant attitude. If he knew how much pain you were in, the situation would only worsen, and you don’t have the strength left to deal with that. As the two of you pass a storefront window, you catch sight of your reflection in the dripping glass and nearly choke at the lump that jumps in your throat.

Your face is streaked with fading tears, dark circles prominent underneath your eyes, hair plastered to your face, and a noticeable bruise purpling on your cheek. Luckily, the blood in your nose stopped before your walk, nevertheless, the cuts on your jaw and hands are hard to ignore.

You didn’t think being pushed down the stairs would hurt this much.

After all, you’ve dealt with worse, you’ve seen worse...this is nothing serious. Just a couple of cuts and bruises, nothing to be worried about.

As you pull your hood up, to mask your dark circles and hopefully erase the bruise from your memory, you fill your mind with these thoughts. Yes, this will soon pass, it’s nothing to be depressed about. After all, this is a normal occurrence. Being tripped in the hallways, cursed at, called racial slurs, beaten and hit, treated like a puppet, a toy for their enjoyment...Why should you expect anything different?

No one is there to help you, so what are you fighting for?

“Hey, what’s wrong?” at Sunwoo’s voice, you shake your head, walking briskly forward. If you talk to him now, you don’t think you’ll be able to keep yourself together.

He notices the strange behavior and the way you’re limping. Inwardly, he can feel his heart clench at the sight. Sunwoo doesn’t particularly know what goes on in your classroom, but he’s seen the stares when the two of you walk in the hallways, he’s heard the jeers and profanities directed towards you. He’s smart enough to understand what is going on, but he doesn’t know how he can fix it. If he could, he would stay with you all throughout the day, protecting you from anything they might target you with, but as fate would have it, that’s not possible.

His nails dig deep into his skin as he remembers his younger sister. Ever since she faded from his touch, he questioned how he would have saved her, if he knew. And now that he sees that same look in your eyes, he’s reminded of the hollow stare his sister once wore before falling too deep into her misery.

He doesn’t want to make the same mistake again.

Sighing, he places his hand on your shoulder, slipping your backpack off, and adding it to his. You look up at him, slightly confused but knowing that trying to get it back would be a futile effort. Besides, you’re too tired to fight with him today.

“Get on my back.” He murmurs as he positions the backpacks comfortably on his shoulders. “I’ll carry you.”

Biting your bottom lip, you turn away from him, continuing down the path on your own. You know he didn’t mean to hurt you, but the suggestion just brought back bad memories.

Do you know why we do this? You fat whore, you don’t deserve anything better.

Swallowing hard, you clench your fists in your pockets, trying to ignore the self-deprecation starting within your gut.

You’ve never been the skinny type, and it’s not as though you’ve fooled yourself into thinking you weren’t, it just didn’t bother you. You didn’t mind the way you looked, or that you were bigger than most people your age. In fact, you were confident in your looks and took great pride in the fact that you were able to eat sizable portions of food in one sitting.

But then, you reached middle school, and now high school, and as the innocence of your youth faded, so did the acceptance of yourself.

People started to make fun of you for the way you looked, your friends started leaving you because you didn’t fit their standards of beauty, anyone who was associated with you soon became embarrassed of you. No one wanted to be around you, no one wanted to be associated with you, so when the bullying started, no one cared. You had faded into the background and there wasn’t anyone who stayed by your side.

No one except for…

“Sunwoo?!” You cry out in surprise as he kneels in front of you, swiftly grabbing you by your legs and pulling you onto his back, your backpacks held securely in the crook of his arm.

To your surprise, his body is warm and strong beneath you. He doesn’t seem to have any struggles as he begins to trek the rest of the walk home. It’s almost effortless. You have half the mind to ask him if you’re too heavy, you don’t remember him being this strong. Growing up he was always a skinny kid, one who did whatever he wanted without much care for his safety, and while he knew how to hold his own in a fight, he was never known for being that strong.

Once your shock has worn out, you are reminded of the fact that you didn’t want to be carried in the first place. Anger replacing your misery, you start to try and pull yourself out of his grip and rest your feet back on the ground. You aren’t helpless, you can still walk on your own. You don’t need him.

But when he tightens his grip around you, makes sure you are secure on his back, his hands strong and secure around you ensuring that you won’t fall as long as he’s around to catch you...You find that you are too touched to fight against him anymore.

As the tears build up in the back of your throat, you can feel yourself aching to let go, but you don’t want him to see you cry. You don’t want him to know how much you’re struggling, how weak you really are. It’s too much, even after everything he’s already done for you. Even after everything he’s already seen, it’s as though if you cry no, you’ll just be admitting that it’s true.

And you don’t want it to be true.

However, as your hands wrap themselves within the fabric of his shirt, and your chest contracts from the strain of the struggle between you and your tears; he sighs beneath you.

“You know it’s okay.” He mutters, and you look down at him, surprised. “I won’t look.”

In the back of your mind, you wonder how he knew you were holding back. Sniffling, as the touching gesture warms your heart and overwhelms you with gratitude and affection, you bury your face into the crook of his shoulder and cry. Your chest heaving with the sobs, tears mixing with rainwater, and his warm body beneath you; the two of you continue to walk down the path towards home.

And in the back of your mind, you realize that this is the safest you’ve ever felt.

In the arms of a boy, you’ve known all your life, but have only just begun to recognize.

Please stay, don't leave me. Five words that had been spoken with dry lips and trembling hands, pushed off of his tongue with the weight of every dream and expectation that suddenly crashed and sent flying shards of crystal sinking into the tender flesh of his heart.

If someone had warned him the part of love that hurts the most was the downfall when you discover the sentiment that drove you to live lacking in your lover's heart, he would've spared himself from everything that meant love.

And that he did, depriving himself of warmth at night and tender affection once morning came; living in ways that made days merge into months and months turn to years he could no longer get back and live the way he was meant to before his heart got broken.

Nevertheless, the heart never listens, it doesn't heal when you want it to and it sure doesn't stop itself from falling when that's the last thing you want; Changbin had learnt both things the hard way.

Years had passed since he had been left alone in a half empty apartment, heart bleeding with every tear he never tried to hold back, and yet some pieces of his heart remained loose, rattling inside his ribcage everytime he moved as if set on stone in reminding him of his past pain.

Still, he was no longer the twenty one year old Changbin that had fallen hard at first sight, nor was he twenty four and thinking he would get down on one knee at any moment. A twenty eight years old man with sour and closed off exterior was what he was now, what he was when he thought of finding love for the second time, only to discover it swimming on your shining pupils.

The tale went close to the same many people reaching their thirties experience when it comes to finding someone to love, it involved a late day at work, a dimly lit bar, amicable chatter; nothing worth of remembrance except you.

It could all be resumed to exchanged phone numbers and an unspoken promise not to kiss each other right then and there because there was something about not feeling young and invincible anymore that drove everyone to be more cautious.

Turned out to be early brunches on free days and late nights watching movies, not yet going to each other’s places or doing more than holding hands when the world was too distracted to notice and mistake whatever you had for more than it was or could be.

Felt like drinking a cold glass of wine after a busy week at work, pleasant but mournful over every bit of sweetness that couldn’t be found in it because the life of an adult required more than apple juice to drown regrets.

Mistaken by a really close friendship meant to bring comfort and ever so rarely for a juvenile infatuation that made throwing caution out the window a need more than a desire; but he knew better than to fall in love quickly.

Knew better than to name things and make promises before the appropriate time, better than to only take into account the way the lack of loneliness made his heart beat steadily, better than committing to heart the image of your smile.

It was slow paced and sweet, like the kind of movie many wouldn’t be interested in watching; a total contrast to what first love had meant to him.

They say people never forget their first love, that what comes after is a search for something that feels close to the same, but whenever he looks into your eyes he can’t help thinking the last thing he wants is to go through it again.

Life as it is and how it’s painted on every downhearted story, pushes him to the thinnest part of the ice where he feels like every step he takes could be the last one and the months by your side could soon turn into simple memories.

One evening of tawny autumn is where it began, flashbacks of everything that he could’ve done wrong before but his last partner didn’t care enough to clarify for him settling into his chest like suffocating heat.

As usual it starts with doubts that make him toss and turn at night, questions that threaten to spill from his mouth but never do, glances that he fears could unveil the turmoil his heart had turned into once again.

And just like always it seems to have no end, not even when you kiss him softly like he is the most precious thing in the world nor when the scent of your shampoo finds its way to the spare pillow he rarely used but now finds himself coming back to.

It doesn’t get better because it starts hurting even more, pain seeping through his veins and rippling to every corner of his being when he thinks of how much he began to love you.

Thinks of promises he wants to make and commitments that scare him to death but he could find himself doing if it was for you, thinks of how he doesn’t want to let you go even on the days where he seems like he has just enough time to breathe.

Days in which he sends messages that only serve the purpose of cancelling plans and dragging him into deeper fear; days in which you say you don’t mind even if he’s late, that you understand that work comes first even if that’s one of the reasons why he had been left alone many years before.

Nights in which you take the words right out of his mouth and declare that you would rather just stay inside in order to fight the languidness the day brought to your being; even more so on the one night where you stand together outside in the cold city air.

Your eyes scan the list of screenings for the day, all old movies that won’t bring curious eyes around but rather people that seek to feel something familiar yet again.

With a conspicuous smile turning your face into spring despite the obvious winter unfurling around, you point at one of the movies and read the name out loud like a foreign language that you still have a hard time piecing together.

“I think I’ve seen this film before, and I didn’t like the ending,” he says and feels his heart constrict inside his chest, because that’s exactly what he feels sometimes when he looks at you and the never ending love that he has started harbouring inside his chest.

What you have looks scarily similar to first love, and yet it doesn’t, because what he can unmistakably read in your eyes is a second love that goes deeper than whatever either of you had felt before.

He carefully watches as you furrow your brows in deep thought before laughing softly and coming to a conclusion. “That says a lot then, you’re not particularly picky with movies.”

Of course you don’t watch the movie because you seem to trust his words more than he does sometimes, and he just wishes that you can trust him with your heart too in the future because he can’t help but feel concerned about his own that he long left in your palms.

You simply squeeze his hand out of habit and choose another title, one that brings him to smile and nod like he had no problems or regrets in the world and you drag him with you, your warmth enough to shield him from the snow that begins falling as soon as you enter the establishment.

Careful and still somewhat careless, he falls for you steadily everyday a little bit more until his chest feels like it might explode with everything that he hasn't been brave enough to externalise.

He tells you he loves you nights after, when the moon is full and the sky just right at the close promise of blooming flowers and bumbling bees.

It rolls off of his tongue with ease, the same way in which your fingers find their way to his before they intertwine and you say the same thing back to him.

The more time that passes after that day, the less rattling he can hear inside his chest, as if his heart had deemed it the proper time to set itself back in one piece.

But time can be as ruthless as it is sweet, mixing and turning into something indecipherable, smudging moments together and making the mind hazy.

One night as you're about to leave his side before the darkness of the night casts itself thicker, he holds your wrist in fear of you crossing the door and he almost doesn't know why.

He tells you with dry lips, “Stay,” feeling young and lost all over again, like he had to fear getting the same outcome out of something that had looked nothing like his first love except for the warming feeling that wrapped around his heart at the thought of someone else, someone else that could only now be you.

You looked back at him as if his words were honey and not fire burning his throat and heart to ashes; kissed him softly on the cheek and agreed without a moment of hesitation.

Hesitation that he no longer finds in his heart and so he speaks once more, reaching to show his bare soul to you. "Stay with me, for as long as time stretches in our favour."

There's a split second in which your face shows him the surprise he had once seen in his past lover's semblance, the surprise that came before he was left behind, but just like he expected in secret, contrary to how his first relationship went, you smile for him right after.