#sohee riize

whenever anyone asked what the two of you were he always laughed before saying, “we’re just close friends.” it was always just friends. you had swallowed that word so many times it stopped clawing at your throat and hurting on the way down. eventually it settled somewhere deep inside your chest. it was heavy enough that you almost forgot it was there until somebody else reminded you. friends asked if you were dating constantly, your family wondered why he came around so often, and strangers assumed the two of you were together whenever you went out. every single time he smiled that easy smile and brushed it off with a casual, “nah,” before you even had the chance to answer. just one word was enough to make you feel stupid.

the worst part was that he would come over that very same night, climb into your bed like he belonged there, tuck his face into your neck, and mumble that he had missed you. he always wanted everything a boyfriend got. he wanted the late night phone calls, the sex and making out, your shoulder to sleep on after a bad day, and someone to celebrate every little achievement with him. he just never wanted to be your boyfriend.

every time you tried to pull away he noticed almost immediately. if you took a little longer to answer his texts suddenly he was blowing up your phone. if you stopped asking him to hang out he somehow always found himself “in your neighborhood.” “you’re acting weird,” he’d tell you like he was confused and like your reaction had appeared out of nowhere instead of being built from every disappointment he’d handed you over the last three years.

you wanted to laugh every single time he said it. he acted as if you were expected to sit patiently while he decided which version of you he wanted that day. some days you were the first person he called the second he woke up. he’d spend hours in your apartment doing absolutely nothing, his head resting in your lap while you mindlessly played with his hair. he would tell you stories that no one else got to hear. he’d kiss you absentmindedly whenever you handed him something or pulled you into his side without even thinking about it. then there were the other days where he’d disappear for forty eight hours without so much as a text.

those days were always the hardest. you would stare at your phone longer than you cared to admit as you convinced yourself you weren’t waiting for a notification. eventually he’d come back like nothing had happened and ask if you were awake. if you made the mistake of asking where he’d been he’d let out an exaggerated sigh before shaking his head. “why are you making this into something?” he’d ask.

you didnt want to tell him it was because it was something. maybe not to him but it had been something to you for a very long time. you had spent almost three years loving somebody who refused to admit there was anything to love when it came to you. somewhere along the way you learned to stop asking questions because every conversation somehow ended with you apologizing instead. if you wanted reassurance, you were needy. if you wanted clarity, you were overthinking. and if you dared to get upset, you were dramatic. eventually you decided silence hurt less than hearing him make you feel guilty for wanting things that should have been normal.

then came whoever that girl was. you never cared for her name.

you didn’t hear about her from him. that probably should have been the first sign. instead you saw them together before he ever bothered mentioning her name. they weren’t doing anything you hadn’t done with him hundreds of times before. he was carrying her bag and reached over to brush a strand of hair away from her face after it got caught in her lip gloss. when she said something too quietly for him to hear he leaned down with that familiar little smile, the one that used to make your stomach twist itself into knots. he looked happy. there wasn’t any hesitation in the way he looked at her. he looked comfortable, almost proud to be standing beside her in the middle of the sidewalk where anyone could see.

you stood across the street until the light changed. he never noticed you. that night your phone buzzed just after midnight. his name lit up the screen followed by a simple message asking, “you awake?” you stared at it until the brightness dimmed on its own. for a second you considered ignoring him completely but your fingers moved before your brain could stop them. instead of answering the question you typed, “weren’t you busy?”

the typing bubble appeared almost immediately. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

you looked at the screen for another long moment before replying with a single word. “nothing.”

another bubble.

“don’t start.”

you couldn’t help laughing under your breath as you read it. like you were the one who kept lighting the match. like every fight hadn’t started with him pretending there wasn't a problem. you locked your phone without answering and for the first time in a very long time you let him sit with the silence.

days passed before you mentioned her again to him.

the two of you were sitting across from each other in your favorite café, the one where the employees had stopped asking whether your orders were together because they assumed they always would be. he was stirring his iced coffee absentmindedly whole scrolling through something on his phone before looking up with a shrug, “she’s cool." you only hummed, refusing to give him the reaction he was looking for. he watched you for another second before adding, “i think i like her.”

your hand froze around your cup for the briefest moment before you forced yourself to nod. “that’s nice. you deserve happiness.” he frowned immediately. “that’s it?” you looked up at him, meeting his eyes without giving away anything you were feeling. “what did you want me to say?”

he didn’t answer because what could he possibly say?

he wanted you jealous? he wanted you to ask who she was, whether she’d be better than you, whether he liked her more? did he want the comfort of knowing you would still be there if things with her didn’t work out? you had always been there before every time he disappeared. you were always waiting exactly where he had left you.

what he didn’t expect was for something inside you to finally snap.

there wasn’t a dramatic argument or some huge betrayal that changed everything overnight. there wasn't anything loud. it was more like a death by a thousand cuts. somewhere between watching him smile at someone else and hearing him tell you he thought he liked her you realized you were exhausted. you weren't heartbroken and not even surprised anymore. you were just tired.

after that conversation you stopped answering his messages the second they came in. you stopped cancelling plans whenever he suddenly decided he wanted to see you. you stopped sitting around wondering when he’d text.

you stopped waiting for him entirely and it drove him insane.

the first day he sent two messages.

the second day he sent seven.

by the end of the week your phone buzzed almost constantly with him asking where you were, whether you were busy, why you hadn’t answered, if you were upset with him, if he’d done something wrong. every few hours another notification lit up your screen, each one sounding a little more pathetic and impatient than the last.

you answered none of them. the silence unsettled him more than any argument ever had. he wasn’t used to not having access to you. he wasn’t used to texting first. he definitely wasn’t used to wondering whether you would answer.

so naturally he showed up at your apartment.

you almost laughed when you opened the door and found him standing there holding two coffees like he hadn’t spent the last week slowly losing his mind over text because you stopped revolving around him. he smiled the second he saw you. it was almost like in his brain everything between you both had magically fixed itself the moment you answered the door.

“you’ve been ignoring me,” he said. you leaned against the doorframe before answering with a simple, “yeah.” his smile twitched. “… yeah?”

“yeah.”

it took another second for the grin to disappear completely. “why?” instead of answering right away you stepped outside and quietly pulled the apartment door shut behind you. you didn’t want this conversation inside. you didn’t want him sitting on your couch and somehow getting into your bed like every other argument. crossing your arms you looked at him for a long moment before asking, “why do you care?”

his eyebrows pulled together almost instantly. “what kind of question is that?”

“an easy one.”

he stared at you like you’d asked something ridiculous before letting out a quiet laugh. “obviously i care.”

“why?”

his mouth opened. then closed. he looked down for a second before trying again but nothing came out. finally, almost awkwardly, he shrugged, "... because.” you nearly laughed. after two years 'because' was all he had. you nodded slowly before looking away. “right,” you murmured. “that’s what i thought.” he reached toward you automatically. before his fingers could brush yours you stepped back. he froze. the expression on his face almost made you feel guilty.

almost.

his hand slowly dropped back to his side before he frowned. “what’s your problem lately?” for a long moment you simply looked at him. you noticed the confusion on his face and the irritation beginning to settle in around his eyes. most importantly you noticed the expectation that eventually you would cave like you always had before. finally you answered, “you.”

he blinked, “what?”

“you’re my problem.”

he stared at you, “… i don’t understand.”

you nodded once., “i know you don’t.” his jaw tightened, "then explain it.” you held his gaze for another few seconds before slowly shaking your head. “i’ve been explaining it for three years.” his eyes rolled before you had even finished speaking, “you’re doing that thing again.” you tilted your head, “what thing?”

“making everything deeper than it is.”

for a second all you could do was stare at him. then you laughed. not because anything was funny but because if you didn’t laugh you thought you might actually scream. the sound came out sharp enough that even you barely recognized it. “deeper than it is?” you repeated, shaking your head. “that’s rich coming from the guy who wanted me to act like his girlfriend until someone asked what i was.”

the words hit harder than you expected and he looked away. he always looked away whenever the conversation stopped going the way he wanted it to. whenever there was something real sitting between the two of you, something uncomfortable that couldn’t be laughed off or brushed aside. he’d suddenly become fascinated by anything except you. anything was easier than looking at the person he’d spent three years convincing to settle for half of what she deserved. after a long silence he finally sighed and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, “we’ve talked about this.” you almost smiled before quietly correcting him, "no. i talked about it. you avoided it.”

his shoulders tensed, “it’s not that simple.”

“isn’t it?”

he let out another dramatic sigh, dragging both hands down his face, “why do you always need labels?”. you wondered if he heard himself. you stared at him in complete disbelief before asking, “are you serious?” he frowned. “yes.”

“you think this is about labels?”

“then what’s it about?”

instead of answering right away you took one slow step toward him. you stopped once you were close enough that he couldn’t pretend not to hear you anymore. “it’s about the fact that you wanted every single part of me without ever having to choose me,” you said, watching his expression carefully. when he didn’t respond you continued anyway. “it’s about the fact that every time i started pulling away suddenly you remembered i existed.” he stayed completely silent so you finished the thought yourself. “it’s about the fact that you liked me most when you thought i wasn’t going anywhere.”

the silence that followed answered the question for him. you watched something shift behind his eyes. it wasn’t guilt. it looked more like discomfort. he had finally been forced to hear something he’d spent years pretending wasn’t true. you nodded once before quietly saying, “that’s what i thought.” he instinctively reached toward you again but your voice stopped him before he could get close. “don’t.” his hand froze halfway between the two of you before slowly dropping back to his side. you took another small step away and looked at him without an ounce of hesitation. “don’t touch me.” his face hardened almost immediately. “… you’re overreacting.”

his favorite sentence. the one he’d use every single time you cried. every single time you questioned him. every single time you admitted he’d hurt you. somehow every conversation always ended with him convincing you that your feelings were bigger than the problem itself. it was as if your emotions only existed because you imagined them and every issue between the two of you had only started because of your imaginary feelings. something inside you went completely still when he said it this time. the sadness disappeared and so did the disappointment. even the hurt seemed to melt away and all that remained in its wake was anger.

you let out a soft laugh before looking back at him. “that’s your favorite thing to say.” he frowned. “because you are.” “no.” you slowly shook your head. “i’ve actually been underreacting for three years.” he scoffed. “seriously?” “yeah,” you answered calmly. “seriously.” your voice never rose and that seemed to frustrate him more. you could tell he wanted tears and emotion. he wanted something he could point to later and call dramatic. instead you stood there looking almost peaceful as you told him, “i let you convince me i was asking for too much every single time i wanted respect.”

he immediately tried to interrupt. “i-"

“no.”

the single word stopped him completely. your voice came out sharper this time, leaving absolutely no room for him to force another excuse into the conversation. “you’re going to listen for once.” he stared at you looking almost offended by the idea. “you made me feel guilty every single time i asked where we stood,” you continued. the second he tried to speak again with a quiet, “i wasn’t-" you cut him off without hesitation, “stop.”

“you wanted me loyal while you stayed available.”

“that’s not what happened.”

“that is exactly what happened.”

he let out one short and bitter laugh before shaking his head. “you’re twisting everything.” “am i?” you asked, tilting your head slightly. “then tell me what i’m twisting.” he opened his mouth but nothing came out. you waited another second before quietly prompting him again. “go ahead.” his eyes drifted away from yours.

“tell me which part isn’t true.”

another silence.

finally, barely above a whisper he muttered, “i never said i didn’t care about you.” you simply nodded, “that’s the problem.” he frowned. “what?” “you cared," your arms crossed over your chest. he blinked once before quietly answering, “… yeah.”

“just enough.”

confusion spread across his face almost instantly, “what does that even mean?” you never looked away from him as you answered, “you cared enough to keep me.” before he could respond you spoke again, "you cared enough to text me whenever you were lonely and you cared enough to kiss me. you cared enough to crawl into my bed whenever life got hard.” there was silence between you both for a beat. “but you never cared enough to actually choose me.”

he swallowed hard before trying one last time, “that’s not-"

“don’t.”

he immediately fell silent again. “you don’t get to rewrite history because i’m finally leaving," it took everything in you to not yell.

for the first time since you’d met him he looked nervous. after a long pause he admitted, “i didn’t mean to hurt you.”

you gave him a tired smile, “i actually believe you." his eyebrows lifted in surprise, "you do?”

“yeah. i don’t think you meant to.” you watched relief slowly settle across his face and for a brief second he looked like he thought he’d finally found something that could fix this. then you finished, “i just don’t think you cared enough not to.”

the relief disappeared instantly. hurting you had never been his goal it had just never been important enough for him to stop. neither of you spoke for a long time after that. the city carried on around you like nothing had happened. the world kept moving while the two of you stood perfectly still, staring at the wreckage of something that had never even been given a name. he swallowed hard before asking, “… so that’s it?” you nodded once before quietly answering, “that’s it.” he searched your face for something but there was nothing left to find. after another long silence he let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh and shook his head. “you’re just … throwing everything away?”

“everything?” you repeated. “what exactly am i throwing away sohee?” he stared at you for several seconds before answering in a voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it. “us.” the word hung in the air between you. neither of you moved. shaking your head you murmured, “that’s funny.” his eyebrows pulled together immediately. “what’s funny?” you looked at him like you couldn’t quite believe what you’d just heard, “now we have an us?” you asked quietly. he didn’t answer because he couldn’t. every time you tried to define whatever existed between you he’d told you that you were making things complicated. now, suddenly, there was an us only because he was about to lose it. you watched the realization settle across his face as he remembered every conversation he’d shut down, every question he’d dodged, every time he’d made you feel ridiculous for wanting clarity. he took a small step toward you before quietly saying, “listen-" “no,” you cut in before he could finish. he stopped where he was. after a brief pause he tried again. “just let me explain.” "explain what?" you asked.

“everything.”

“there’s nothing left to explain.”

“there is.”

you slowly shook your head. “no. there isn’t.” “please,” he said quietly. “just let me finish.” your expression never changed as you looked back at him. “finish what?” you asked. “the conversation you should’ve had three years ago?” you watched him struggle to find the words before quietly asking, “or are you finally going to tell me i’m enough now that i’m leaving?” his eyes dropped to the ground. you already had your answer. after rubbing both hands over his face he looked back up at you with a voice quieter than you’d ever heard before, “can we at least … be friends?”

the question hit you harder than everything else he’d said combined. after every kiss and every night he’d spent wrapped around you. friends. you stared at him for so long that he shifted uncomfortably beneath your gaze, “no.” his face fell almost immediately. “… no?” you slowly nodded your head before answering, “no.” he swallowed hard, “you’re really serious.”

“for the first time in a long time.”

he looked like he wanted to argue. the frustration finally returned to his face. he let out a bitter laugh before muttering, “you’ll regret this.” you looked at him for a long moment, “see?” he frowned, “what?” “even now,” you said quietly, “you still think i’m the one losing something.” for the first time this whole conversation he understood you weren’t bluffing. you weren’t waiting for him to chase you. this wasn’t another fight. this was goodbye.

you held his gaze for one final second before quietly saying, “goodbye, sohee.”

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ it's like a bomb

𝗐𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝖿f

tick tock ׅ 𝄂𝄚𝅦𝄚𝄞𝅄ㅤ

★

message in a bottle chapter 23 - figuring shit out

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summery! one drunk night turns into trouble when yn’s text ends up in sohee’s inbox, sparking chaos she didn’t mean to start. add in her complicated relationship status with wonbin, and suddenly everything feels like a storm of messy drama and feelings she can’t quite control.

ㅤㅤ𖢒♡⠀ㅤ⠀ ͜͝ . ֹೃ ㅤ⠀손 틈새로 바라봐,⠀⠀love⠀⠀is⠀⠀so⠀⠀blind⠀ㅤ𑣿ྀི

ㅤㅤㅤ .⠀⠀ ˚⠀⠀ ⠀✿†⠀⠀⠀私はあなたに一目惚れした。⠀⠀⠀.⠀⠀⠀⠀˚ ࿔

message in a bottle chapter 22 - #youngho

previous - main - next

summery! one drunk night turns into trouble when yn’s text ends up in sohee’s inbox, sparking chaos she didn’t mean to start. add in her complicated relationship status with wonbin, and suddenly everything feels like a storm of messy drama and feelings she can’t quite control.