Write Your Heart Out

Slightly stumbling, I heard my name. It sounded like Jun-hyung, but I knew it wouldn’t 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 Years’ 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. 

Jun-hyung looked like a bum as he stumbled towards me, and I couldn’t help but smile, even though I rather felt like crying at the sight of Min-hee’s bright pink lipstick also all over his mouth. He hugged me, nearly knocking my tipsy self over, and laughed in my ear.

“I’m so happy!” he said too enthusiastically.

I faked a laugh and patted his back clumsily. “That’s great Jun-hyung.”

“I didn’t think she’d say yes. She’s kind of out of my league, right? But she said yes! I’m-”

He hiccuped, which usually made me laugh. But this time it made me cry. I felt stupid crying, but I couldn’t 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 wouldn’t make it home tonight.

“You need to get home,” I said.

He shrugged.

“Maybe,” he said.

I wiped my eyes as best I could with numb fingers and pulled him to a standing position.

“Come on,” I said. “Let’s take you home.”

Somehow I knew this wouldn’t be like the other dozens of times I had taken him home after a drunken night out. In fact, I don’t 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 friend’s apartment with all his belongings. I didn’t know how his liver could support his lifestyle. All he did was party and drink. It amazed me he didn’t end up passed out in the street every time he went out. I wasn’t sure the phrase ‘responsible drinking’ was part of his vocabulary.

“Are you gonna take me home?” he asked, drunkenly leaning onto my shoulder after I helped him up.

“No, I’m taking you back to the party. You’re already home,” I said, struggling to get him moving.

“Why are you crying? Are you..” He hiccuped again. “..sad about something?”

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 didn’t bother with the lights before curling myself on top of my bed and under my blankets.

*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 couldn’t think of a way to do it subtly and without crushing him between the two of us girls. Min-cheol’s 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 wasn’t really sure how I ended up being ‘friends’ with these people. I didn’t fit into their crowd. They were all covered in tattoos, piercings, and somehow walked out with bedhead and yesterday’s 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 so…normal. I wore less makeup than pretty much 80% of Seoul’s female population, and while I was stylish enough for myself, I was most definitely not on their level. I couldn’t pull off stained shirts and straight-cut jeans like they could.

“-Yeah, they contacted me about doing some modeling for their brand, but I’m not sure. Their clothes aren’t really my style, but it would also be a pretty good gig…”

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 wasn’t helping me tolerate Min-hee’s 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. He’d 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, she’s leaning closer. He’s 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 she’ll look at me. Her head turns slowly. She’s seeing me. She gently pulls my hand off her arm and gives me a sad smile. She turns back towards the other guy. She’s walking away.

No.

I can’t let her walk away. Not again.

           “Please…” I say as I take her arm again. Please…can we talk for five minutes?”

She glances between me and the other guy. She says something to him so I can’t 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 didn’t know she smoked. I say so. She shrugs again.

           “I shouldn’t” is all she says.

I kick a small rock that’s near my foot. It skids down the sidewalk.

           “I’m sorry,” I say, “about…that night. I wasn’t…I--”

           “I know,” she says. She drops her cigarette on the ground. She crushes the end under her shoe. It’s basically unused.

           She starts again. “I know. You don’t have to explain. I get it. You don’t like me. I just…had to know before I left.”

           “No,” I say. “You’re wrong. I meant that--”

           “Look, even if you’re here to say you didn’t mean to pull away like that, you did. That’s telling.”

           “I was surprised. I wasn’t unhappy about it,” I say.

           She lets out a sound that’s kind of a sad laugh. “Yeah.”

“I have to go check on someone…….”

           I catch my friend. “You’re too drunk to check on anyone. Who is it? I’ll do it for you,” I say, setting him back upright on the couch. He pats my cheek.

           “I can’t tell you. She might be mad if I do.”

Somehow that’s enough for me to know it’s her.

I get up off the couch. She’s gotta be in the other VIP area. My friend’s 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 she’s not here. I turn around. I try to see if she’s in the crowd, but there’s too many people, and it’s too dark.

I step down onto the floor again. I slowly start to make my way back. I bump into someone, sloshing someone’s drink onto the floor.

           “Watch it,” a woman’s voice says.

I bow lightly and apologize and she walks away. She goes up to a girl who’s dancing closely with a guy. The dancing girl looks like her. But I can’t really tell in this darkness. The two start inadvertently making their way closer to me.

I have to wait here and see if it’s her. I have to. The one I bumped gives me a sour look as she passes.

It’s her. It really is.

I freeze for a second, and it’s a second too long.

She’s already passed me, people now blocking me from reaching her. I’m pushing my way past people towards her. That same guy reaches out putting his arm around her waist. She doesn’t pull away.

He wasn’t supposed to be here. His friend had told me he wasn’t going to be here. But, I’m 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 wasn’t going to be here.

           “You’re here! Oh good. I swear I didn’t know he was coming. He told me five times he wasn’t coming and then he just showed up a few minutes ago.” 

His friend’s arm is around me, pulling me away towards the VIP area on the other side of the room, away from him.

           “You’ll be fine over here. I doubt he’ll come over here to this side.”

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.

           “It’s fine,” I say. “We’re adults. I don’t think there’s any reason for either of us to make a scene here. I’m here to watch the show and support a friend, that’s all.”

           His friend nods. “Yeah, I know. But I still feel bad.”

           I shake my head and slip my jacket off. “Don’t. Now go back over there and have fun. I’ll be here enjoying the show.”

           “I’ll come back and check on you at some point. I’m probably gonna be too drunk to take you home though…so you might want to make sure to find a way home.”

           I have to laugh at that. “You’re always too drunk to take care of anyone at the end of the night. Like I said. I’ll be fine. So go back over there and have fun. No more thinking or worrying about me. I’ll be fine.”

He nods and stands up, pocketing his phone. I ought to make sure he leaves with his phone. He’s 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.

           “Are you coming tonight?”

           “I want to see you.”

           “Can I see you?”

           “Will you tell me if you come?”

She replied to my last message five days later. “Sorry, I can’t make it” is what she said. Five days after the event. It’s not like her. She responds to my messages now, but usually a day or two later and in short sentences.

           “Are you doing anything this weekend?”            “Yes”           “Oh, what?”           “I’m busy, sorry”

I try to avoid asking her yes/no questions to see if she’ll 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. “Yeah, how’s the new job? You’re not gonna miss the show tonight just cause you’ve got a new job now, right?” He pauses. “Yeah, okay, I’ll see you tonight. Yeah, yeah, don’t worry, I won’t. See you later.”

“Who was that?” I ask. I turn the TV on knowing there’s nothing on I want to watch.

I message her again. She hasn’t 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 don’t know.

“So is she coming tonight or not? We gotta know soon.” My friend is impatient now.

I open my phone again. No reply. But it’s only been 30 seconds since I sent the message.

           “I don’t know.”

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.

           “You messed up. You know that, right?” he says, looking at me.

I run my hand through my hair again. “Yeah, I know. You’ve said it 500 times.”

“Okay, well, just making sure. Sometimes you don’t get it when people aren’t being direct enough.”

“You’re here, you’re here! Let’s go, let’s go!”

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. You’d enjoyed some good times with them.

“There’s this really great place we can eat. Taehyung took us here last time! It’s really, really good! And mom even gave us money so we can pay since it’s your last day here in Daegu!”

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-eun’s call.

“Hey, Ji-eun! Are you almost here?”

“Um, ___...” Taehyung’s youngest brother said, glancing nervously at something behind you.

“What is it?” you asked, turning.

~

“Guys, I have this great place. You’ll like it. They have the best barbecue. I haven’t been there in ages.”

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.

“Guys,” he said walking back towards the other guys. “It’s really busy in there. Let’s go eat somewhere else back the way we came,” Taehyung said, stepping in front of Namjoon who was close behind him.

“What? Come on, can’t be that busy. We’re already here. We can just wait.”

“Well, it is, and I’m hungry now, so let’s just go somewhere else,” Taehyung objected, still trying to get Namjoon to turn around.

Yoongi, who’d been ignoring the whole group discussion merely turned up the volume of his music on his phone, blocking out the other boys’ 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.

“Yoongi, we’re-”

Taehyung swore under his breath, Namjoon following suit.

~

You stared. The one person you’d 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.

“I…I, um…” you stuttered. “I’m not very hungry anymore. I think I should go.” You quickly brushed past all the boys, ignoring the protests of Taehyung’s brothers.

“____! Wait!” Taehyung’s brothers called. The older of the two glared at Taehyung as he passed.

“This is your fault,” he said to Taehyung. “You weren’t supposed to come here.” He turned then, running after you.

Yoongi didn’t say anything. Instead, he sat down at the table you and Taehyung’s brothers had just vacated, his foot bumping against your bag. Reaching for it, he paused. He knew that bag. He’d 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 couldn’t see you anymore. You were probably too far down the street, and he didn’t know which direction. He didn’t want to run after you. At least…not too far. Not after all this time. He’d spent enough time running after things. Holding your bag, he quickly searched through his contacts to see if he could find either of Taehyung’s brother’s contact info. He had neither. Cursing silently to himself, he walked back inside.

“Yoongi, I-” Taehyung started.

We’re waiting for my train. He’s waiting with me even though he takes the train going the other direction. He’s standing a few feet away, so I’m not really sure I could really say we’re waiting together. He keeps looking at his phone, turning the screen on and off even though there’s 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. He’s watching as the doors open. I clear my throat.

           “I…I had a good time tonight…”

He doesn’t say anything, just shuffles his feet.

I continue, “I’m…sorry about…that. It won’t happen again. I just…wanted to…I wanted to know…”

I don’t know how to voice what I’m 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 doesn’t.

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. 

It was a great evening. 

We’re walking back to the train station now. I form my left hand into a fist, squeezing my fingers together tightly. 

I take a deep breath, holding it, and I finally slip my hand into his. 

He flinches and jerks his hand away, his eyes widening as he looks at me. 

He looks surprised. I apologize. 

Prologue

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. You’d 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.

“You okay?”

You glanced at your friend, nodding and re-positioning yourself facing forward, letting the memories escape and focusing on the present.

“I’m fine. Just anxious to actually be there already. I feel like we’ve been on this bus for forever.”

Your friend laughed. “It’s been, like, three hours. Only a little bit left to go.”

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 wasn’t 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.

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 weren’t 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 hadn’t expected the sudden rush of tempting relapse.

“Yoongi?”

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 he’d 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 didn’t say anything. You held him as tight as you could, keeping your worries to yourself. You’d noticed his relapse. You wondered who else had. His group members must’ve seen something. They must’ve noticed already, you silently hoped. You knew you had to step away so he could get help again. You also knew he wouldn’t 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.

“Yoongi,” you began.

Then you stopped. Those eyes. His eyes. You looked away. You couldn’t say this if he was looking at you with those haunted eyes that you’d first fallen for. He squeezed your hand just barely hard enough for you to feel.

“Yoongi...I’m leaving...”

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.

“Okay then,” he said. He walked out without giving you a chance to explain.

Plot: [In progress] Story Type: College/University AU; 2nd person Characters: Minhyun (NU’EST) 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 you’d gone numb from the feelings. His absence only made everything that much more painful.

The first glimpse of Minhyun that you’d 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. You’d longed to be included in his table: to be welcomed. But you never were. Not really.

2 years earlier: September, fall semester 

“Su-jung!”

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.

“You need to find a way to get introduced,” Min-hee sighed, wiping her hands on her dirty apron. “You’re in way too deep to not try talking to him at least once.”

You flushed even brighter. Your cheeks burned from the color. You hated getting caught staring. But, somehow, you couldn’t help yourself. Not when it came to Minhyun. You didn’t say anything, just stared into your phone, finally responding to your mother’s text from the week before. You weren’t ignoring her. Not really. You couldn’t afford to anyways. She was funding your university education after all. Even though your relationship with her was more like a business function, you didn’t make enough at your two part-time jobs to break off the relationship.

“What about Ji-yoon?” Min-hee continued. “She could do it. Don’t they have a group project together? She could introduce you after a group meeting. You could-”

“No,” you interrupted. “It’s fine. I’ll just…watch.”

“You’ve spent two years ‘watching’,” Min-Hee said rolling her eyes. She wiped her hands on her dirty apron. “Let’s go clubbing tonight. We’ll find you a cute boy.”

“You know I don’t-”

“Nope, we’re going. You don’t get a say. you’ve spent far too much of your time inside this semester. Let’s get out and have fun.”

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 couldn’t imagine Min-hee’s dress showing any more cleavage than it already did. Your dress left your shoulders exposed, and that was already too much for you. You couldn’t imagine being so bold and brazen as to show off your chest. You didn’t see any other girls wearing dresses cut similarly to Min-hee’s, and you knew why. Girls who dressed like Min-hee were seen as easy; girls who slept around a lot, even if they didn’t. You’d 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. 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.

“I can just pay,” you said, pushing a 20,000₩ note at her.

"No, no, I got this one,” she said pushing your hand away. “I told you. This is your first night out in a long time. I’m paying for tonight.”

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.

"I would say I'm shocked you haven't been to NB2 before, except that I'm not. You've never been clubbing anywhere, have you?" Min-hee asked, giving you a triumphant smile as she held up two crumpled 10,000₩ notes.

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.

“Are you okay?” a soft voice said.

You looked up then. Minhyun.

Plot: She disappeared years ago. He’d almost forgotten what she’d even looked like. The only reason he knew she was even real was the picture he kept in his box of keepsakes from home. But now she’s home. She says she’s done running. Story Type: AU; third-person Characters: Suga (방탄소년단) x Reader Word Count: 440 She watched the raindrops run down the window of the cafe. There weren’t any customers inside, so she pushed the door open as gently as she could. The bell chimed in a welcoming way above her head. He looked up then, smiled at her; went back to wiping down the espresso machine.

“I’m sorry, but we’re closing now,” he said.

She nodded. “Ah, I’m sorry. I’ll…I’ll come back then.”

She left. The raindrops running their way down her clothes onto her skin. He didn’t recognize her. Perhaps it was the soggy clothes and dripping hair. Those two things certainly didn’t add to her look. She took a few steps to the right of the cafe’s 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.

“Did you need some-”

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 she’d 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.

“You’re…”

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.

“You didn’t recognize me,” she finally said. The sound of the city somehow far off in the distance.

His heart drummed painfully hard in his chest. He couldn’t seem to regulate his breathing. He stepped a bit closer.

“I thought you were going to run away.”

She looked at him as he whispered. She looked away from his eyes, from the pain running between them.

Plot: One-shot (no given plot) Story Type: 1st person Characters: Optional Bias x Reader Word Count: 1284 Note: The song lyrics don’t match the story, but the sound of the song does. So, for mood setting, please listen to Perfume by Illinit while reading.

Her “Hey, are you on your way yet? Food’s getting cold!”

The text is still unread. Just like the last 5 I’ve 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 he’ll 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. I’m barely ten minutes in before he walks in, smelling like that same expensive French perfume I’ve come to recognize. I haven’t asked about it, but he also hasn’t mentioned it. To be honest, we don’t talk much these days. We’re barely ever in the apartment at the same time. It’s not even really like we’re in a relationship anymore. It’s 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 he’ll talk first. He doesn’t. 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 it’s also the door to my own room, but it seems even stranger to just walk in now that he’s in there.

“Are you hungry?” I ask.

“No, I ate at the studio.”

I nod and slowly open the door then. He’s 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 so…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 doesn’t say anything. Just settles into bed and, I assume, go to sleep. I close my eyes again, praying for sleep to find me.

Him She’s 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 don’t remember when it suddenly became so serious, the affair. I suppose an affair is always serious, no matter which stage you’re at, whether it’s 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 what’s 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 won’t feel so guilty. But I know she won’t. She’s not like that. She’s so forgiving. She’s so trusting. She’s so good.

I can’t 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, I’d 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 she’d say something to me. Maybe if she speaks first, I’ll have the courage to admit it out loud. I’m a coward. And I don’t know how to change that.

Her He’s still there when I wake up. It’s a first in a few weeks. Usually he’s 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. I’m confused. I draw my hand back. Something flashes in his eyes, but I’m not sure what. I don’t 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 doesn’t smell like her perfume anymore, but the scent is somewhat ingrained in my head. Somehow I’ve turned the scent of her into the scent of him. They’re 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 hasn’t been this physical or affectionate in months. I hate to think that he’s 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 don’t speak as we go into the kitchen, him still attached to me. I don’t know what do think right now really.  I open the fridge and pull out last night’s dinner.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

The tone of voice suggests he is apologizing for more than missing dinner. But that’s 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 hasn’t dissipated. He barely lets go of me as I try to make us omelets from the leftovers for breakfast.

“I’m sorry,” 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, I’m not sure he even tastes what he’s eating. He eats the half of my omelet I don’t 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.

“I’m sorry,” he says for a third time. This time he’s 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 there’s 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 what’s going to happen next.

Him I wake up. She’s gone.