Slightly stumbling, I heard my name. It sounded like Jun-hyung, but I knew it wouldnāt be because he was probably making out with Min-hee or something. I kept walking, but I kept hearing my name. I stopped and shook my head trying to shake the voice out of my head. Being drunk made me feel crazy. At the beginning of the year I had vowed to never get drunk again, but hanging out with them always made me forget I had ever made that New Yearsā resolution.
I heard my name one more time, and this time I turned around. It was Jun-hyung stumbling up to me. He was smiling, an empty soju bottle in one hand, a lipstick stain on the rim.Ā
Jun-hyung looked like a bum as he stumbled towards me, and I couldnāt help but smile, even though I rather felt like crying at the sight of Min-heeās bright pink lipstick also all over his mouth. He hugged me, nearly knocking my tipsy self over, and laughed in my ear.
āIām so happy!ā he said too enthusiastically.
I faked a laugh and patted his back clumsily. āThatās great Jun-hyung.ā
āI didnāt think sheād say yes. Sheās kind of out of my league, right? But she said yes! Iām-ā
He hiccuped, which usually made me laugh. But this time it made me cry. I felt stupid crying, but I couldnāt help it due to the ridiculousness of it all. Jun-hyung sat on the ground, the soju bottle rolling away from him. He was too drunk. I could tell he wouldnāt make it home tonight.
āYou need to get home,ā I said.
He shrugged.
āMaybe,ā he said.
I wiped my eyes as best I could with numb fingers and pulled him to a standing position.
āCome on,ā I said. āLetās take you home.ā
Somehow I knew this wouldnāt be like the other dozens of times I had taken him home after a drunken night out. In fact, I donāt think he even knew how many times I had taken him home, taken care of him, made sure he left the bar or club or friendās apartment with all his belongings. I didnāt know how his liver could support his lifestyle. All he did was party and drink. It amazed me he didnāt end up passed out in the street every time he went out. I wasnāt sure the phrase āresponsible drinkingā was part of his vocabulary.
āAre you gonna take me home?ā he asked, drunkenly leaning onto my shoulder after I helped him up.
āNo, Iām taking you back to the party. Youāre already home,ā I said, struggling to get him moving.
āWhy are you crying? Are you..ā He hiccuped again. ā..sad about something?ā
I shook my head and kept dragging him along, preferring not to answer. Not that he would even remember me crying by the time the sun came up.
I dried my eyes before bringing him back to the party where no one seemed to have noticed I had come back with him. He immediately went back to Min-hee, who smirked in my direction as he practically threw himself on top of her.
I left then. Started the long walk home. The dark greeted me at the doorway of my apartment. I didnāt bother with the lights before curling myself on top of my bed and under my blankets.
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*One week earlier*
We were supposed to grill on the roof, but it started to rain so we moved the party inside. It was cramped and the room smelled too much like cigarettes and stale beer, but I stayed anyways. Because he was there. Actually, he was sitting right next to me, four of us squeezed onto a sofa meant for two. Min-hee, the girl I knew he liked, was on the other side of him, pressed against him as close as she could without actually sitting on top of him. I wanted to do the same, but I couldnāt think of a way to do it subtly and without crushing him between the two of us girls. Min-cheolās cigarette smoke kept blowing towards me making my throat dry and my eyes ache-y.
Jun-hyung took another drag of his cigarette, taking more care to blow it away from me. But the smoke in the air still burned my throat. I wasnāt really sure how I ended up being āfriendsā with these people. I didnāt fit into their crowd. They were all covered in tattoos, piercings, and somehow walked out with bedhead and yesterdayās clothes looking like they were about to have a photoshoot with Vogue or Dazed. They smoked and drank too much, and they were out clubbing or partying more times in one week than I usually went in a year. Compared to them, I was soā¦normal. I wore less makeup than pretty much 80% of Seoulās female population, and while I was stylish enough for myself, I was most definitely not on their level. I couldnāt pull off stained shirts and straight-cut jeans like they could.
ā-Yeah, they contacted me about doing some modeling for their brand, but Iām not sure. Their clothes arenāt really my style, but it would also be a pretty good gigā¦ā
Min-hee had been talking about her modeling gigs for the last hour, and I was getting rather tired of hearing about it. The meat was still cooking on the tiny grill, and the alcohol was flowing. I had had probably a few too many shots of soju myself, which wasnāt helping me tolerate Min-heeās stories any more. I gripped the beer can I was currently holding, nearly crunching it in my attempt to keep my composure as Min-hee started trying to slyly move herself even further on top of Jun-hyung, who appeared to be drunkenly oblivious as to what was happening.
Sick of it all, I finally stood up, nearly knocking Min-cheol off the sofa. I said a quick goodbye with the excuse that I was tired and grabbed my bag, nearly stepping out of my shoes in my haste to escape the small apartment. The alcohol was making everything I was feeling about Jun-hyung feel that much worse. The jealousy was raging, and I knew I had absolutely no reason to be jealous. Heād never expressed even an ounce of romantic interest in me, and he had told me himself that he was going to ask Min-hee out on a date at some point this weekend. But it still hurt. When I was drunk it did, anyways. Sober, it was easy for me to hide what I was feeling.
I want her to pull away from him. Instead, sheās leaning closer. Heās leaning closer. He says something to her. She shrugs a shoulder and follows behind him towards the bar. I have to go to her before she can go off with another guy.
I reach her. I grab her arm, gently tugging her so sheāll look at me. Her head turns slowly. Sheās seeing me. She gently pulls my hand off her arm and gives me a sad smile. She turns back towards the other guy. Sheās walking away.
No.
I canāt let her walk away. Not again.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āPleaseā¦ā I say as I take her arm again. Pleaseā¦can we talk for five minutes?ā
She glances between me and the other guy. She says something to him so I canāt hear. He nods and drops her hand. She pulls her arm away again and motions towards the club entry. I try to keep a hand on her waist as we go, but she keeps stepping away from my touch. I stop trying.
When we reach the stairs, she practically marches up them. She walks past the bouncers and into the chilly night air. She immediately pulls a pack of cigarettes from her bag. She digs around for her lighter. I offer her mine. She looks at it. She takes it. She lights her cigarette and hands it back to me.
I didnāt know she smoked. I say so. She shrugs again.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āI shouldnātā is all she says.
I kick a small rock thatās near my foot. It skids down the sidewalk.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āIām sorry,ā I say, āaboutā¦that night. I wasnātā¦I--ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āI know,ā she says. She drops her cigarette on the ground. She crushes the end under her shoe. Itās basically unused.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā She starts again. āI know. You donāt have to explain. I get it. You donāt like me. I justā¦had to know before I left.ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āNo,ā I say. āYouāre wrong. I meant that--ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āLook, even if youāre here to say you didnāt mean to pull away like that, you did. Thatās telling.ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āI was surprised. I wasnāt unhappy about it,ā I say.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā She lets out a sound thatās kind of a sad laugh. āYeah.ā
She pulls out another cigarette. She uses her own lighter this time even though I offer her mine again. She puffs quietly, taking a few steps away from me.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā I catch my friend. āYouāre too drunk to check on anyone. Who is it? Iāll do it for you,ā I say, setting him back upright on the couch. He pats my cheek.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āI canāt tell you. She might be mad if I do.ā
Somehow thatās enough for me to know itās her.
I get up off the couch. Sheās gotta be in the other VIP area. My friendās already passed out, tilting so far sideways he may as well just sprawl onto the lap of the girl next to him.
I exit the VIP area and push my way through the crowd in the club. The VIP area on the other side is empty. I grit my teeth, fisting my hands.
I was sure he was talking about her. But sheās not here. I turn around. I try to see if sheās in the crowd, but thereās too many people, and itās too dark.
I step down onto the floor again. I slowly start to make my way back. I bump into someone, sloshing someoneās drink onto the floor.
I bow lightly and apologize and she walks away. She goes up to a girl whoās dancing closely with a guy. The dancing girl looks like her. But I canāt really tell in this darkness. The two start inadvertently making their way closer to me.
I have to wait here and see if itās her. I have to. The one I bumped gives me a sour look as she passes.
Itās her. It really is.
I freeze for a second, and itās a second too long.
Sheās already passed me, people now blocking me from reaching her. Iām pushing my way past people towards her. That same guy reaches out putting his arm around her waist. She doesnāt pull away.
He wasnāt supposed to be here. His friend had told me he wasnāt going to be here. But, Iām an adult. I can get through with this without making a scene. No one except he and I know anyways. And his friend, who told me he wasnāt going to be here.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āYouāre here! Oh good. I swear I didnāt know he was coming. He told me five times he wasnāt coming and then he just showed up a few minutes ago.āĀ
His friendās arm is around me, pulling me away towards the VIP area on the other side of the room, away from him.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āYouāll be fine over here. I doubt heāll come over here to this side.ā
I take a seat on one of the couches and watch as his friend makes me a vodka tonic. He hands it to me and sits next to me, checking his phone. He looks worried. I pat his shoulder.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āItās fine,ā I say. āWeāre adults. I donāt think thereās any reason for either of us to make a scene here. Iām here to watch the show and support a friend, thatās all.ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā His friend nods. āYeah, I know. But I still feel bad.ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā I shake my head and slip my jacket off. āDonāt. Now go back over there and have fun. Iāll be here enjoying the show.ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āIāll come back and check on you at some point. Iām probably gonna be too drunk to take you home thoughā¦so you might want to make sure to find a way home.ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā I have to laugh at that. āYouāre always too drunk to take care of anyone at the end of the night. Like I said. Iāll be fine. So go back over there and have fun. No more thinking or worrying about me. Iāll be fine.ā
He nods and stands up, pocketing his phone. I ought to make sure he leaves with his phone. Heās almost lost it so many times. I take my own out of my purse and unlock it. I have a few missed texts. Mostly from him.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āAre you coming tonight?ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āI want to see you.ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āCan I see you?ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āWill you tell me if you come?ā
I ignore the messages, opting to respond to the other messages I havenāt yet. Maybe Iāll text him when I leave. I donāt really have the heart to see him. Iām not even really sure why he keeps trying so hard. Does he regret not holding my hand? Or is he just trying to keep our friendship as it was before I tried to do something about my feelings? I donāt know, and Iām honestly a bit wary to find out.
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She replied to my last message five days later. āSorry, I canāt make itā is what she said. Five days after the event. Itās not like her. She responds to my messages now, but usually a day or two later and in short sentences.
I try to avoid asking her yes/no questions to see if sheāll say anything more than a few words, but she never does. She gives the briefest possible answers to everything I say.
My friend walks in on the phone. āYeah, howās the new job? Youāre not gonna miss the show tonight just cause youāve got a new job now, right?ā He pauses. āYeah, okay, Iāll see you tonight. Yeah, yeah, donāt worry, I wonāt. See you later.ā
āWho was that?ā I ask. I turn the TV on knowing thereās nothing on I want to watch.
I message her again. She hasnāt replied to the other messages I sent either. I sigh and run a hand through my hair. The color is almost gone. Should I dye it again or leave it to grow out? I donāt know.
āSo is she coming tonight or not? We gotta know soon.ā My friend is impatient now.
I open my phone again. No reply. But itās only been 30 seconds since I sent the message.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āI donāt know.ā
My friend sighs and tosses his phone onto the table with a loud clatter. He leans back into the couch, closing his eyes before opening them again & sitting up. He rests his forearms on his thighs, his hands clasped between his knees.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āYou messed up. You know that, right?ā he says, looking at me.
I run my hand through my hair again. āYeah, I know. Youāve said it 500 times.ā
āOkay, well, just making sure. Sometimes you donāt get it when people arenāt being direct enough.ā
I want to hit the guy, but I donāt. Because heās right. Looking back, I realize she gave me so many signs that she was interested and so many opportunities for me to make some kind of move. But I missed every single one. Until last week. But even thenā¦I didnāt react well. I pulled away. She misunderstood. She thought I was rejecting her. I wasnāt. Well, I mean, I did. But I didnāt mean to. I was just surprised. I wasnāt expecting it. Or maybe I was and just didnātā¦I donāt know.
You laughed at the repetition of words between the two Kim brothers. You were still really nervous about being out with the two brothers, but you had missed them. They were your old friends. Youād enjoyed some good times with them.
āThereās this really great place we can eat. Taehyung took us here last time! Itās really, really good! And mom even gave us money so we can pay since itās your last day here in Daegu!ā
You let them lead you along, one brother holding each of your arms. You settled comfortably into the restaurant, the old woman running the place greeting the three of you warmly. You tucked your bag between your feet and opened the laminated menu. Everything sounded delicious. You felt your phone vibrate inside your bag, and you pulled it out to answer Ji-eunās call.
āGuys, I have this great place. Youāll like it. They have the best barbecue. I havenāt been there in ages.ā
The five guys trudged behind Taehyung, who led them along happily with their manager. As the restaurant front came closer, he sped up. The sight of his brothers seated inside stopped him in his tracks. He knew who they were with. They were with you. Taehyung hurried to back track.
āGuys,ā he said walking back towards the other guys. āItās really busy in there. Letās go eat somewhere else back the way we came,ā Taehyung said, stepping in front of Namjoon who was close behind him.
āWhat? Come on, canāt be that busy. Weāre already here. We can just wait.ā
āWell, it is, and Iām hungry now, so letās just go somewhere else,ā Taehyung objected, still trying to get Namjoon to turn around.
Yoongi, whoād been ignoring the whole group discussion merely turned up the volume of his music on his phone, blocking out the other boysā voices. He was tired and just wanted to get something to eat before they had to go practice again. He walked past the others and opened the restaurant door. He froze.
āYoongi, weāre-ā
Taehyung swore under his breath, Namjoon following suit.
~
You stared. The one person youād spent the whole week trying to avoid.
Taehyung and Yoongi stared back at you. Taehyung looked worried, and Yoongi seemed unmoved. You, on the other hand, were shaking. Your vision was starting to blur. You wanted to say something, to ask how he was doing. Anything. But nothing seemed quite right after three years of complete silence.
āIā¦I, umā¦ā you stuttered. āIām not very hungry anymore. I think I should go.ā You quickly brushed past all the boys, ignoring the protests of Taehyungās brothers.
ā____! Wait!ā Taehyungās brothers called. The older of the two glared at Taehyung as he passed.
āThis is your fault,ā he said to Taehyung. āYou werenāt supposed to come here.ā He turned then, running after you.
Yoongi didnāt say anything. Instead, he sat down at the table you and Taehyungās brothers had just vacated, his foot bumping against your bag. Reaching for it, he paused. He knew that bag. Heād given it to you for your one year anniversary. The bag looked well-loved and was probably better fit for the trash bin than for wearing, and yet here it was. He picked it up and quickly headed out the door, once again ignoring the protests of his group mates.
He couldnāt see you anymore. You were probably too far down the street, and he didnāt know which direction. He didnāt want to run after you. At leastā¦not too far. Not after all this time. Heād spent enough time running after things. Holding your bag, he quickly searched through his contacts to see if he could find either of Taehyungās brotherās contact info. He had neither. Cursing silently to himself, he walked back inside.
āYoongi, I-ā Taehyung started.
āItās fine,ā he said gruffly, setting down the bag between his feet and opening up the laminated menu.
Weāre waiting for my train. Heās waiting with me even though he takes the train going the other direction. Heās standing a few feet away, so Iām not really sure I could really say weāre waiting together. He keeps looking at his phone, turning the screen on and off even though thereās no notifications.
The recording that is announcing the approaching train seems too loud to my ears. I flinch. He clears his throat as the train stops. I glance at him. Heās watching as the doors open. I clear my throat.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āIā¦I had a good time tonightā¦ā
He doesnāt say anything, just shuffles his feet.
I continue, āIāmā¦sorry aboutā¦that. It wonāt happen again. I justā¦wanted toā¦I wanted to knowā¦ā
I donāt know how to voice what Iām thinking. I did it because I wanted to see if perhaps he felt the same way about me. His reaction was enough to show me he doesnāt.
The recording announces the train is about to depart. I look back and forth between the train and him. He keeps staring at his shoes. I say āIām sorryā once more and bow, then run onto the train.
This is going to be a story told in short sections. There will be no names provided for the characters. I know this might bother some people, but this it to leave it open-ended in terms of who you think it could be about.
We laughed through dinner and then laughed some more over his coffee and my hot chocolate.Ā
It was a great evening.Ā
Weāre walking back to the train station now. I form my left hand into a fist, squeezing my fingers together tightly.Ā
I take a deep breath, holding it, and I finally slip my hand into his.Ā
He flinches and jerks his hand away, his eyes widening as he looks at me.Ā
He looks surprised.Ā I apologize.Ā
He laughs uncomfortably and we continue walking with a gap wider than before between us.
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Three years is a long time. In the short term realm of things. You supposed it could be a long time in the long term considering you were only 22. You had settled into your new apartment rather quickly, grateful that your parents were still supporting you living in Seoul rather than moving back home to Incheon.
You watched the rain drop, tracing the path of one with your finger. Rain always reminded you of Yoongi. Youād had a lot of good times in the rain: running around playing. You allowed yourself to smile at the memory. You wondered if he still remembered those times in the rain.
āYou okay?ā
You glanced at your friend, nodding and re-positioning yourself facing forward, letting the memories escape and focusing on the present.
āIām fine. Just anxious to actually be there already. I feel like weāve been on this bus for forever.ā
Your friend laughed. āItās been, like, three hours. Only a little bit left to go.ā
You nodded and closed your eyes to feign sleep. You had been reluctant to go on this trip to Daegu. You knew who was going to be there. Not that the chances of you seeing him were very high. The city wasnāt that small. He was going there for a fansign. You were familiar with their tour schedule. It was hard not to. He was really a popular idol, beloved around the globe by Kpop fans.
Had it really been three years since you'd seen him last? You could barely remember what it felt like to be friends with him, let alone his girlfriend. The two of you had been very private about the relationship to begin with. You wondered if there were even any pictures of the two of you together. Neither of you had been very fond of pictures. Although, it seemed as if he had gotten over that dislike since selfies of him and pictures of him with his group mates were in the thousands online.
You had done well for yourself since the breakup. You were almost ready to graduate from university and you were eager to start your internship at a cosmetics company. He seemed to be doing even better. At least he seemed to be, based on the pictures. His recent mixtape had left you wondering how he was really doing. You knew the songs had been written over a long period of time, but you couldn't help but wonder.
"We are approaching our final destination. Thank you for riding..."
You knocked your friend on the shoulder, waking her up.
"We're here," you said. It was still raining. You pulled your umbrella from your bag before slinging the bag over your shoulder. There was still a bit of dread in your stomach as the bus pulled into the station. Even though you knew you wouldn't see him, it was hard not to worry. Your friend seemed to notice. She patted your hand affectionately and gave you a small smile.
"Let's have fun, okay? Maybe meet a cute boy or two! My cousin can introduce us to his friends!"
You had to laugh at your friend's enthusiasm. She was always positive. She belonged in a TV drama, you thought. She was nearly bouncing when her cousin came into view as the bus parked. There was another boy standing next to your friend's cousin.
"Who's that?" you asked innocently.
"That, my friend, is Hyun-jun. Isn't he heavenly? He's the guy I told you I've liked for years. But he always avoided me, and all other girls actually, whenever I came to visit. I think he hates me, but I can still admire from afar, can't I?"
You laughed. "Maybe you should try again. Can't hurt."
Your friend laughed. "Eh, to be honest, he's not my style so much anymore. I'm not really into the brooding type. Way more your type," she said, winking. "Maybe you should take a shot."
You took a second look. He was cute. And you did feel that you were ready to break out into the dating world again. You winked back at your friend.
"Who knows, I just might."
Your friend squealed, causing a few older passengers to turn around with reproachful looks. Your friend apologized quietly and ducked her head into your shoulder.
"Let's go!" she said cheerfully, leading the two of you out of the bus.
"Ji-eun!" Her cousin immediately wrapped her up in a big hug.
You'd always envied their close relationship. You never had siblings, or close relatives. You were the youngest cousin from a family of very strict and very unaffectionate people.
"It's good to see you again too!" Ji-eun's cousin said, giving you a friendly smile. You nodded back and glanced quickly at the quiet boy next to him.
"Ji-eun, you remember Hyun-jun. Y/N, meet my friend and roommate, Hyun-jun." The two of you muttered greetings quietly, Ji-eun smiling at you much too happily the entire time.
You felt your phone vibrate in your pocket and you pulled it out immediately, the message causing you to falter in your steps. You read the contact name a few times before finally opening the message.
"Y/N!! You're in Daegu??? We are too! Let's meet!"
Taehyung's younger brother's message seemed to blur in front of your eyes. You hadn't heard from him, or any of them, since the breakup. It was really what you'd wanted: a clean break. You wondered how he knew. You hadn't told anyone.
"Y/N, some kid's calling you," Ji-eun said, motioning at something behind you.
You slowly turned. There they were. Taehyung's two brothers, smiling at you happily, waving. You wanted to turn around and walk away, but you were caught between two groups of people who knew you. You couldn't just walk away.
"Y/N, are you here for the fanmeet? It's been a while, right? Come with us! We're going to meet Taehyung right now," the younger of the two said, tugging at your sleeve.
"Yeah! I bet they all want to see you. Where'd you go anyways? Taehyung would never talk about it when we asked. Were you sick? Did you move?"
The flood of words coming from the two of them was making your head hurt. You held up your hands to stop them. You had to laugh at their eagerness. It felt good to feel wanted.
"I've been in Seoul still," you said, offering them that one piece of information.
They latched onto it, spitting out a hundred more questions about your whereabouts and what you had been up to all this time.
"Guys, come on!" Ji-eun called over her shoulder, her and the two older boys starting to walk away.
"I'm coming!" you called, extracting yourself from the grip of Taehyung's brothers.
"No, you gotta come with us!" they said following you for a bit before being called back by their mother.
"Well, at least meet us some night for dinner, okay?"
You smiled and nodded, patting them both on the head. "I promise. Now go, I have to catch up to my friends."
You said goodbye and headed back towards Ji-eun.
"Hyung, Y/N's here in Daegu!! We're gonna meet her for dinner before we leave!!!!"
Taehyung stared at his phone, thankful that Yoongi wasn't nearby. He sighed, choosing to not respond to the message. He ran his hands through his hair and leaned back against the plane seat, wondering how to keep Yoongi from finding out.
Plot: [in progress]
Story Type: Partial AU
Characters: Suga (BTS) x Reader
Word Count: N/A
Yoongi slowly made his way towards the apartment, prepared for the pending argument. He typed in your door code and let himself in. Except you werenāt there. In fact, the apartment was completely empty. Everything was gone. A tug of fear swept through him. Abandonment, loneliness, sadness all pulled at his insides, attempting to break down his carefully constructed walls. He hadnāt expected the sudden rush of tempting relapse.
āYoongi?ā
The sudden relief at your voice that flooded through him made him stumble. You braced him against you, his arms immediately wrapping around you in the way heād become so familiar with. The way your body molded into him, offering its warmth so selflessly, calmed him. The door swung shut behind you.
He didnāt say anything. You held him as tight as you could, keeping your worries to yourself. Youād noticed his relapse. You wondered who else had. His group members mustāve seen something. They mustāve noticed already, you silently hoped. You knew you had to step away so he could get help again. You also knew he wouldnāt seek help if you two were together.
It was a few moments before either of you let go. The cold that had settled into the pit of your stomach felt arctic now. You prayed for strength before motioning for Yoongi to sit down on the floor next to you.
āYoongi,ā you began.
Then you stopped. Those eyes. His eyes. You looked away. You couldnāt say this if he was looking at you with those haunted eyes that youād first fallen for. He squeezed your hand just barely hard enough for you to feel.
āYoongi...Iām leaving...ā
His hand stilled. Withdrew. You willed away the tears. You took a deep breath for courage. You tried to smile but it faded when you saw the look in his eyes: the look you had prayed to never see. He stood.
āOkay then,ā he said. He walked out without giving you a chance to explain.
āThis is for you, Yoongi,ā you whispered, alone.
Plot: [In progress]
Story Type: College/University AU; 2nd person
Characters: Minhyun (NUāEST) x Reader
Word count: 902
His gentle voice invaded your dreams like a violent wave crashing into the side of a boat. His soft touch broke down every nerve in your body until youād gone numb from the feelings. His absence only made everything that much more painful.
The first glimpse of Minhyun that youād ever taken was in the cafeteria of your university. He had been at a table, squeezed in amongst his many friends. Every time you saw him, he seemed to be with someone different. He was just too sociable, too handsome, too likable. Youād longed to be included in his table: to be welcomed. But you never were. Not really.
2 years earlier: September, fall semesterĀ
āSu-jung!ā
You turned around quickly, handing off the plates you were holding. The blush staining your cheeks told all. Your friend, Min-hee, just smiled knowingly and continued loading the plates into the industrial dish washer.
āYou need to find a way to get introduced,ā Min-hee sighed, wiping her hands on her dirty apron. āYouāre in way too deep to not try talking to him at least once.ā
You flushed even brighter. Your cheeks burned from the color. You hated getting caught staring. But, somehow, you couldnāt help yourself. Not when it came to Minhyun. You didnāt say anything, just stared into your phone, finally responding to your motherās text from the week before. You werenāt ignoring her. Not really. You couldnāt afford to anyways. She was funding your university education after all. Even though your relationship with her was more like a business function, you didnāt make enough at your two part-time jobs to break off the relationship.
āWhat about Ji-yoon?ā Min-hee continued. āShe could do it. Donāt they have a group project together? She could introduce you after a group meeting. You could-ā
āNo,ā you interrupted. āItās fine. Iāll justā¦watch.ā
āYouāve spent two years āwatchingā,ā Min-Hee said rolling her eyes. She wiped her hands on her dirty apron. āLetās go clubbing tonight. Weāll find you a cute boy.ā
āYou know I donāt-ā
āNope, weāre going. You donāt get a say. youāve spent far too much of your time inside this semester. Letās get out and have fun.ā
The two of you abandoned your stained work aprons and walked out the swinging kitchen doors. Min-Hee linked her arm through yours and led you outside and into the sunlight.
You couldnāt imagine Min-heeās dress showing any more cleavage than it already did. Your dress left your shoulders exposed, and that was already too much for you. You couldnāt imagine being so bold and brazen as to show off your chest. You didnāt see any other girls wearing dresses cut similarly to Min-heeās, and you knew why. Girls who dressed like Min-hee were seen as easy; girls who slept around a lot, even if they didnāt. Youād heard all the whispered conversations and bullying remarks about the few girls who showed cleavage around campus.
You looked at your friend, taking in her look. The low-cut, short dress. The high-heels and the perfect makeup. You had put on a little more makeup than usual as well, hoping to emulate more confidence than you truly felt. It had helped a little bit, but not enough to get you into sky-high heels like Min-hee. You wrapped your arms a little bit more tightly around you, trying to ward off the cold. You saw couples and groups of friends huddling closer together to share body heat as they waited in line.Ā You tugged the sleeves of the dress up a little more to cover more of your shoulders as Min-hee fumbled in her purse for cash for the entrance fee.
"No, no, I got this one,ā she said pushing your hand away. āI told you. This is your first night out in a long time. Iām paying for tonight.ā
You relented by putting your money back into your purse. The line was long, and your feet were getting cold from standing outside. The music coming from the building was loud. You stared up at the club sign, silently wondering if you would actually have fun inside.
You shook your head. "Never. I never had anyone to go with."
That was only a half truth. Your older sister had invited you out a few times, but you knew she would ditch you the second she found a guy to latch onto. Min-hee seemed satisfied with your answer.
Soon enough, you were walking down the dimly lit staircase, feeling the music pounding into your head. You could barely hear anything, let alone have a coherent thought. Min-hee guided you to the coat check area to drop off your belongings. She handed over a few bills to the club worker and grabbed the bag to put your stuff in.
You turned around to hand the bag back to the worker when you were knocked sideways, nearly falling. A cold hand wrapped around your wrist, helping you to stay upright. Heart pounding from the thought of falling, you barely looked up as you steadied yourself.
āAre you okay?ā a soft voice said.
You looked up then. Minhyun.
Note: This is just kind of a random prompt. Iām not sure if Iām going to continue this...what do you think? I really donāt want this to be a typical romance, but...weāll see, I guess! (As always, requests are open)
āIām sorry, but weāre closing now,ā he said.
She nodded. āAh, Iām sorry. Iāllā¦Iāll come back then.ā
She left. The raindrops running their way down her clothes onto her skin. He didnāt recognize her. Perhaps it was the soggy clothes and dripping hair. Those two things certainly didnāt add to her look. She took a few steps to the right of the cafeās front window, out of view. She let herself slide down against the brick building wall, her coat catching on the rough surface.
Rain used to make her feel calm and safe. But that day, it made her feel empty and alone. She hugged her wet bag closer to her, shielding it as best she could. The bell on the cafe door jingled. She sprang up. It was him. He looked at her, surprised.
āDid you need some-ā
She was gone. Running. Running like the rain was down her face and neck. She heard her name. Or, she thought she did. She stopped, her right foot sliding a few inches past on the slick sidewalk. She heard it again. She turned. He was so close. So close. Suddenly, the courage sheād had walking into the cafe dissipated. She started to run again. But he was there.
His hand on her arm caused her to stop. She whipped around, her wet hair sticking to her cheeks as she did. He was panting, she was crying.
āYouāreā¦ā
His breath was ragged and uneven. Hers was too. He groaned and gripped his side with his free arm, his body aching from the sprint. She took a step away, but he countered with two steps closer. She looked away, he looked dead at her. He let go of his side then and brushed a soft caress against her cheek. She flinched at the contact, and he dropped his hand, rain running down his hand and dripping off his fingertips.
āYou didnāt recognize me,ā she finally said. The sound of the city somehow far off in the distance.
His heart drummed painfully hard in his chest. He couldnāt seem to regulate his breathing. He stepped a bit closer.
āI thought you were going to run away.ā
She looked at him as he whispered. She looked away from his eyes, from the pain running between them.
I remember our first time. It was awkward, and neither of us knew what to do with our hands. Funny how something as simple as that can make you so nervous.
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Plot: One-shot (no given plot)
Story Type: 1st person
Characters: Optional Bias x Reader
Word Count: 1284
Note: The song lyrics donāt match the story, but the sound of the song does. So, for mood setting, please listen to Perfume by Illinit while reading.
Her
āHey, are you on your way yet? Foodās getting cold!ā
The text is still unread. Just like the last 5 Iāve sent asking him if he has time to run to the store for ice cream for us to eat after dinner and other various daily updates. I set my phone down and bury my face in my hands. Another cold dinner alone. I sigh as I pack up the food and put it into the fridge, full of one-person meals that heāll probably take to work with him tomorrow.
I wash up and change into pajamas before settling onto the couch to watch the new episode of my drama. Iām barely ten minutes in before he walks in, smelling like that same expensive French perfume Iāve come to recognize. I havenāt asked about it, but he also hasnāt mentioned it. To be honest, we donāt talk much these days. Weāre barely ever in the apartment at the same time. Itās not even really like weāre in a relationship anymore. Itās a bit of a strange thing: romantic relationships. It starts out so blissful and so quickly turns into something more of a bad dream.
I feel a bit strangled by the tension that his presence brings into the room. I sit quietly, waiting to see if heāll talk first. He doesnāt. He goes into the bedroom and shuts the door. I look at my phone. 11:32 PM. The messages are still unread. I go and knock on the door. It feels strange to knock on the door when itās also the door to my own room, but it seems even stranger to just walk in now that heās in there.
āAre you hungry?ā I ask.
āNo, I ate at the studio.ā
I nod and slowly open the door then. Heās buttoning up his pajama shirt. I leave the door open so he can step out and into the bathroom. He shuts the bathroom door, leaving no room for conversation as he washes up. I slowly get into bed, clicking off lights as I go. I settle onto the bed and pull the blanket up to my chin, trying to ward off the cold of the room. When did I become so complacent and soā¦so convenient? I swallow my sigh as he steps into the room. I close my eyes and wait for him to switch off the lights and get into bed before opening them again.
He doesnāt say anything. Just settles into bed and, I assume, go to sleep. I close my eyes again, praying for sleep to find me.
Him
Sheās sitting on the couch. She usually is when I get home. The scent of her perfume is heavy on my clothing making me a bit nauseous, and not because of the smell. The guilt hangs heavy on my head. I donāt remember when it suddenly became so serious, the affair. I suppose an affair is always serious, no matter which stage youāre at, whether itās flirtation or sexual.
She glances at me. I know the look in her eyes. I know she can smell the perfume. I know she knows whatās going on. I want her to confront me. I want her to yell at me, tell me she hates me, to storm out and leave me. If she does then maybe I wonāt feel so guilty. But I know she wonāt. Sheās not like that. Sheās so forgiving. Sheās so trusting. Sheās so good.
I canāt even speak as I get ready. I want to. But the guilt keeps my throat tight. I want to tell her that I love her, that this other woman is nothing to me. But that would be a lie. If the other woman was nothing to me, Iād have no trouble leaving her behind and going back to the one who shares my bed every night without questioning me. I settle into the bed wishing sheād say something to me. Maybe if she speaks first, Iāll have the courage to admit it out loud. Iām a coward. And I donāt know how to change that.
Her
Heās still there when I wake up. Itās a first in a few weeks. Usually heās already gone. But it is Saturday after all. He stirs in his sleep, turning over to face me, his eyes still closed in blissful sleep. I reach my hand out to stroke his cheek but stop myself. His eyes open before I can take my hand away. He stares at me. I stare at him. He takes my hand. My heart stops and starts racing. I know that look.
He tucks my hand under his head, still holding onto it. Iām confused. I draw my hand back. Something flashes in his eyes, but Iām not sure what. I donāt want to know, actually. I stretch then get out of bed. He follows me as I go into the bathroom. He wraps his arms around my waist from behind as I brush my teeth and whispers good morning in that raspy voice I used to love. He doesnāt smell like her perfume anymore, but the scent is somewhat ingrained in my head. Somehow Iāve turned the scent of her into the scent of him. Theyāre synonymous now. Intertwined in a way that I once thought only he and I were.
He places soft kisses on the back and sides of my neck. As I rinse my mouth, he kisses up the front of my neck nearly making me spit out the mouthwash. He hasnāt been this physical or affectionate in months. I hate to think that heās doing this because he feels guilty, but the thought definitely has a hold in my head. I motion him away so I can spit out the mouthwash and he obliges but keeps his arms around me, even as I bend to spit into the sink.
We donāt speak as we go into the kitchen, him still attached to me. I donāt know what do think right now really. Ā I open the fridge and pull out last nightās dinner.
āIām sorry,ā he says.
The tone of voice suggests he is apologizing for more than missing dinner. But thatās also expecting a lot from him right now, I think. But the hopeful feeling is a nice change from the tension, though the tension in my shoulders still hasnāt dissipated. He barely lets go of me as I try to make us omelets from the leftovers for breakfast.
āIām sorry,ā he says again as we sit down to eat. I set the plates down on opposite sides of the table but he pulls the plate opposite him next to his own. He pulls me onto his lap and we start to eat. He eats so fast, Iām not sure he even tastes what heās eating. He eats the half of my omelet I donāt finish as well. He places soft kisses on my shoulders and neck again. I feel myself stiffen slightly under his touch. He feels it as well. He slowly rubs circles into my back with his thumbs, massaging the knots that have built up throughout the last few weeks.
āIām sorry,ā he says for a third time. This time heās whispering it into my hair while slowly lifting my shirt above my head. I let him. We go back to the bedroom. The door is shut though thereās no one else in the apartment. I give in to the feelings and allow myself those few precious moments of bliss, but after we both come down from the high, I know we both know whatās going to happen next.