#mywr

Thing’s haven’t been great lately. Your boyfriend broke up with you. You failed two classes in a row. You haven’t spoken to your parents in weeks due to a falling out. Everything seemed be slipping through your fingers at the moment. Even yourself. With so many things falling apart, you felt like you barely knew who you were anymore. 

“There you are.” Soonyoung’s voice is accompanied by the sounds of your balcony door closing softly. His blonde hair is strewn over his forehead, eyes tired, turtleneck pulled over his chin. “We tried calling you.” 

You sigh. About an hour or two ago, you’d left the party you’d been at with your best friend. Your eyes fall back onto the night sky, still dark. Everything there, Hoshi, your mutual friends, the music, the happiness, it had felt suffocating in that moment. So you left. And in your state of eerily quiet disarray you might’ve forgotten to send him a text. 

“Hey,” his fingers gently graze your shoulder. “Are you okay?” He’s beside you, presence warm in the cold. Hoshi’s always been here with you, always. To many he might seem unsteady, rowdy, the partaker of many on-and-off relationships—he simply doesn’t know what he wants yet. To you however, he is the most constant thing you’ve known. 

Yet you can’t find it in yourself to answer him honestly in that moment. “Yeah.” 

Suddenly, his fingers clasp over yours that hold your mug, directing it towards himself. He takes one whiff of the liquid before pulling away with his nose scrunched up. “Oh my god. You are not okay. Is that whiskey?” He pushes the mug back towards you, “Where did you even get that?”

“I might’ve stolen it from Cheol,” you state flatly. “Don’t tell him.”

He nods. “If you tell me what’s going on.”

Normally you’d fight him, not tonight. “Soonyoung I don’t have the energy to bargain with you.” You stop to take another sip from your drink, feeling your throat constrict right before you speak again. “And I don’t have the energy to explain,” you croak. 

Soonyoung quietly nods again. He’s closer, chest pressing against your arm as he winds his around your shoulders. “Okay, I’m here.” 

And you crack. Whatever effort you’d put up to hold back the floodgates dissipated into thin air. His affection is your undoing. You lean your head forward, first tears dripping down your chin. Your crying is silent, and somehow it hurts more, but you can’t find the energy to make a sound. Eyes pressed closed, no help in holding back your tears. Your shoulders shake against your best friend. Your best friend, whose fingers soothingly rub along the back of your neck. He too is quiet. It makes the void in your chest all the more apparent. You ache for him to fill your silence with himself the way he always does.

It’s when you look up at him, that you let out your first sob. His eyes, those ever kind eyes, filled to the brim with tears he can barely hold back. 

“Come here,” he whispers, pulling you into his chest fully. Soonyoung is warm, and he smells like home. He always has. 

Your arms circle his waist, his lips briefly brushing along your temple. You can feel his tears against your skin. “Why are you crying?” you mumble, voice hoarse. 

He cups the back of your head, squeezing you tight. “I hate seeing you like this. I hate it.” There’s something on the tip of his tongue, you can tell from his tone alone. He swallows it. Buries it against your hair, where he kisses you. Once, twice, thrice, maybe a few times too many. You don’t care. You’ll grasp on anything to soothe the ache in your chest. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“So am I.” 

The apologies are empty yet overfilled. You don’t know why you’re apologising, why he is, it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters and yet everything does and it’s so overwhelming that you feel more tears spill past your lashes. You wish you could turn it off. That you could be fine. There’s no light at the end of the tunnel right now. It’s just your best friend, and for now, that will be enough. 

He’ll be here to hold you. He’ll sit with you while you pull your pieces together. He’ll hold your broken heart in his hands until you want it back. He has so many times before. Sometimes you wonder if it just belongs with him. He’s taken better care of it all those times than you ever have. He’s told you so in the past. “Take better care of that fragile little heart of yours,” he had whispered in the dark of your room, “it deserves so much better, love.” A nickname used once, and never again. Just that one time. A core memory to you. 

“Thank you,” you mumble, chin rest on his shoulder. 

Soonyoung sways you from side to side, before releasing you just a bit. The hand on your waist makes you shiver, the one that gently grazes your wet cheek makes you feel warm. “You don’t have to thank me.” His eyes scan your features, wiping away more tears. “Not for this, love.”