Yellowdaisy2023

You decide to join them. Truthfully, there was never really any consideration. From the moment he presented the tickets to you, you knew you would say yes. You had a feeling he knew that too. He never mentioned it, though, and he acted pleasantly surprised when you texted him the next afternoon after deciding that was enough time to “consider” his offer. 

Going to the airport with Ateez was never fun. There were always so many fans, and people with cameras. It always made you nervous, especially when you were together. Their fans were always so quick to speculate or zoom in on images and videos and there was always a lingering fear that someone would recognize you from multiple videos, realizing you’d been there more times than could be chalked up to coincidence. However, it was easy for you to slip through the crowds because no one expected you to have been traveling with them. A random person with a mask, once they realized you weren't a member, they let you weave past. 

The two of you finally get a chance to talk on the plane, after the pre-flight announcements. 

“Thank you for agreeing to come.” Jongho says quietly, looking over at you. The partition between your seats is down, as is his mask. His hair is covering his forehead and his face is bare. With an ache in your chest, you realize he looks so much like he did the night you ended things. You give him a small smile.

“Thank you for inviting me. You didn’t have to get me a first class seat, though. I would’ve been perfectly happy in economy.” His smile widens a bit, creating a slight crinkle at the corners of his eyes.

“No way. Besides, you sitting here is saving me from being filmed for a Logbook. So, it was mostly selfish.” You know that’s not why. He’s never minded being in the Logbooks. He seeks them out sometimes, just for the opportunity to do something odd. But you let the lie slide. It seems you’re both carefully circling the truth with small untruths that are believable enough, something the other won’t question because it will shed light on their own dishonesty. 

“Well then…I’m happy to be of service.” You both sit there for a moment, just watching the other with a tiny smile. The moment is broken with the chime of the seatbelt light turning off. You shift, sitting straighter, facing forward. You tap on the screen in front of you. “How should we distract ourselves for this flight?” The words come easy. The times you did join them on the plane rather than meeting at whatever location they were at halfway through the tour, one of you would pick a movie, sync the tvs, and watch together. His eyes follow your movements for a few seconds before he turns to his own screen. The two of you swipe through the options. 

“Got one.” You can’t fight your smile. You tap one of the movies.

“Me too.” He turns back to face you, putting his fist up to the open partition. You mirror his movement. 

“Rock, paper, scissors-” His hand opens, his fingers splaying out. You hold up just two, then beam. 

“Aha!” His smile, despite losing, is nothing but fond. 

“Alright. What’s your choice?” He finds the movie on his own screen, you both plug your headphones in, then you press play at the same time. It’s all devastatingly familiar. You find yourself getting lost in the movie and even though you’ve seen it a hundred times, you could never get sick of it. 

Over the next few weeks, you and Jongho slowly get reacquainted. It’s stilted, difficult because they’re in the midst of the promotions for their comeback, and the tour dates that start in the new year are looming over your heads. Two weeks before he’s set to leave, he knocks on your door.

You answer it in your pajamas, a movie paused and the smell of popcorn filling your apartment. 

“Jongho.” He smiles softly, the kind that crinkles his eyes. “What are you doing here?” 

“I wanted to talk to you about something. Can I come in?” You nod and step aside, holding the door for him. He toes his shoes off by the door and follows you to your couch. 

Once settled, you turn towards him, hugging a pillow to your chest. He fidgets with his hands briefly, then reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out two rectangular pieces of paper. He holds them out to you. With a curious expression, you take the papers. 

“What…?” You look at them and your stomach flutters. Tickets, one for the first show of their tour and the other is for the plane. Your eyes snap up to meet his. “Jongho-”

“Please. I…I want you to come. Look, just…” He seems to be fumbling with his words, his mind running too fast for him to decide where to start. You place your hand over his.

“Slow down. I’m listening.” Your tone is gentle. He takes a breath and pauses for a moment to collect his thoughts.

“I want things to be different now. I want them to be better. So we can be stronger.” Your expression turns almost pitying.

“Nothing has changed.” You say. “You guys are so busy now, so popular. I’m thrilled for you, Jongho, really I am. And I appreciate the tickets, but…it’s still the same.” Jongho’s smile fades a little. There’s a slight pause, he clearly has something he wants to say. You stay quiet to let him find the words. When he speaks again, his words are slow.

“The night we broke up, we interrupted each other. Do you remember?” You think back to that night. You remember laughing as you both spoke over each other. He’d let you go first. 

“Yeah,” You breathe. 

“What I was going to say back then…I was going to tell you that I had talked to the guys, to management. We had agreed that…you could come with us.” Something in your stomach swoops and your eyes widen.

“What?” 

“I was going to tell you to quit your job. Live with me. With Hongjoong, Wooyoung, and I. Travel with us.” Your breath catches in your throat.

“I can’t just-”

“You could. I can support you. Us. The guys agreed to it. I…All I had to do was tell you. Get you to say yes.”

“Jongho, please tell me you hear how this sounds.” He nods.

“I know. I’m not asking for that right now. But my point is: things can be different. They can change. It’s too late for me to beg you to come back to me, I know that. And that’s not my intention. Just…come to the first show. Come…come see what it could be.” His voice softens and you feel your resolve crumbling. 

“Can I think about it?” He nods. 

“Of course. The flight is in two weeks. On the 3rd.” He stands up.

“Do you want to stay for dinner?” He shakes his head.

“I have to get back to practice. I came here on my break.” Something flutters in your chest at the fact that he took his downtime to come see you. To ask you to come watch their concert. To come with him. “I just…didn’t want to forget to invite you. And I wanted to make sure you had time to take time off work. If you decide to go, that is.” You nod. 

You get farther this time before he stops you. Though this time, not with his hand. Instead, his crooning voice fills the air.

“Told myself that I’d be fine and turned away, only to be wounded by the thorns of regret. Since losing you, why is it that not once have I been able to face myself, only trying to run away?” You freeze. 

“What?” You breathe. You doubt he can hear it. 

“Why did I, when just one word would’ve been enough? It was on the tip of my tongue. I’m using this song to say it now; you’re my Everything.” Tears well in your eyes at the lyrics. It’s so familiar, in a distant way. Like your brain recalls hearing it even when you weren’t listening. His boots crunch the snow as yours did. “It’s about you. The song.” He gets closer, you can hear it. “That’s why we filmed here. Because I couldn’t imagine telling our story anywhere else. And…I thought maybe it would help you understand that I still…” He trails off, his voice not far. He feels too close, like he’s practically breathing down your neck. When you tilt your head just enough to see him from your peripheral, he’s further than you thought.

“Can you show it to me?” You finally turn around completely, your voice quiet. He blinks at you, surprised to see you actually listening. “The song. Play it for me. Please?” He nods, reaching for his phone. His gloved hands fumble with his pocket for a moment before he finally grabs it. He pulls one off to tap the screen and before long, a soft piano is playing between you two. 

He hardly even dares to breathe as the sound of his voice fills the air. You close your eyes when the song reaches the first chorus. The lyrics echo through your mind, the words of regret and promises. The “if only”’s that have apparently plagued you both. You feel your eyes burn again, the wind biting at your cheeks as the tears make their way down your face. 

The song fades, leaving your ears ringing. A sudden burst of warmth makes you open your eyes. He’s cupping your cheek, thumbing at the tears that have fallen. 

“It’s too late to make up for everything. Missed dates, anniversaries…” His voice is hardly a whisper, but it’s loud enough in the little space between you. “But…I just needed you to know that even after all this time, all the pain that losing you caused me…you’re still my everything.” You swallow thickly. “I’ve never been good at expressing my feelings. I prefer to sit and think about them. I’d rather put them into song lyrics than actually talk about them. And that’s what’s come from the last two years of…of not having you here with me.” Your jaw tightens. You beg yourself to stay strong. 

“I…I don’t know what to say.” You whisper. You swallow again and meet his eyes. “I need time. This is a lot to take in. I…” He’s nodding before you can even finish your sentence. 

“Anything. I’ll give you space. As much time as you need. I just want you back in my life. In any way that I can.” He strokes your cheek one more time before he lets his hand fall. The warmth is immediately replaced with the bitter cold of the wind. He takes a step backwards. “Will you let me walk you home? It can be silent, I promise. Let me make sure you get home safe.” You nod.

The walk is familiar. Despite the emotional rollercoaster you've been on tonight, it’s nice. It takes you back to the days when he’d be so busy the only time your paths would cross would be when he would leave the studio for food before going to bed. You would meet in the park and he’d walk you home, only to have to turn around and go back to where he came from. 

True to his word, the walk is silent. Even when you reach your apartment, he leaves you with a small smile and a gentle squeeze of your arm. 

The warmth of your apartment envelopes you the moment you step inside. Releasing a deep breath, you close your eyes and lean your head against the door. The evening washes over you, sending your mind spinning. You find yourself smiling softly as you clear the coffee table of your laptop and empty wine glass. You go through your nightly routine, reminiscing on your conversation with him. He seemed genuine, like he truly wanted to have you back in his life. You had to admit, you’d found yourself missing him dearly over the last two years. 

Present

A hand on your shoulder jolts you. It’s only when the wind stings your face that you realize you’ve been crying. You wipe your cheeks and look at the person standing before you. Meeting his eyes, your stomach drops. Even with the mask he’s wearing, you can tell. You could always tell. 

“Jongho?” 

“Y/N…” his voice is soft, just as you’d remembered. He always said your name like that. Breathless and reverent. 

“What are you doing here?” Your voices harmonize, sounding like one. You wished you could laugh about it like you would when you were together. 

“I come here every so often. When I can’t sleep.” He answers first. “I thought you moved.” A crease forms between your eyebrows. 

“I didn’t.” 

“Oh.” His eyes flick away for a moment, glancing down the sidewalk, before they return to you. A bitter realization settles over you. He must be waiting for someone. You stand up. 

“I’ll go.” 

“What?” You brush the snow off your coat only for new flakes to take their place. 

“I wouldn’t want to give her the wrong idea.” 

“Who?” You’ve already stood and turned, about to walk away. He grabs your forearm. “Please don’t go.” You don’t turn to face him. You know when you do, you’ll say yes. “You can yell at me. You can cuss me out. But please…don’t walk away. Talk to me. Let me…let’s talk in person. Face-to-face.” There’s a pause. “Please.”

You hesitate. A large part of your brain is telling you it’s a terrible idea and that you should pull your arm away and walk off. It wouldn’t be very difficult, his hand is hardly keeping you there. He’s not gripping, just holding. You turn just your head, your mouth open to tell him no once more, but the look in his eyes is soft. He looks tired, like he always did when you were together. You shut your mouth and take a breath. You nod. 

“Fine. We can talk.” You swear you hear his breath hitch, but you’re almost certain it’s just wishful thinking. He nods once then releases your arm. Slowly, like a zookeeper afraid of moving too fast and startling the animal into a frenzy, his hands are at his waist in a placating manner as he backs up once, twice, then sits on the snow-covered swing. The one you hadn’t been on. You watch him tense as a chill undoubtedly runs up his spine. The other swing creaks as you sit back down. 

It’s silent between you both for a while. The only sound is the whistling of the wind and the occasional car passing by. 

“Did you…” He breaks the silence, but his voice is soft. It’s cotton gloves on a crystal glass, handling it with caution in fear it might shatter irreparably. “Um…Our latest comeback…we had unit songs. I had a solo…” He trails off. It takes only a few moments for you to realize he won’t continue.

“I saw it. The video.” You see him nod out of the corner of your eye. “Did you film here?” 

“Yeah.” You nod this time. 

“Is she good to you?” He looks at you, you can practically feel his eyes on you. 

“Who?” 

“The girl you’re seeing.” You finally meet his gaze when he doesn’t respond for too long. “What? I know you, Jongho. You use your life to draw inspiration. She’s your ‘everything’.” He stares for a long moment. You find yourself wishing you could watch his mouth fumble to organize his thoughts. 

“Did you listen to the song? The whole song?” Truthfully, you’d only heard the first minute before tonight. It was too hard. Listening to him lament about another woman, about how he wanted to make it work between them, it’d made something bitter rise into your throat. The video was the first time you’d listened to the whole thing, and you spent too much of it focusing on the location to truly listen to the lyrics. 

“Not entirely. But enough to get the gist.” The look that crosses his face isn’t one you saw much while you were together. It was the face he made when he had something he couldn’t say. When he knew something you didn’t but some part of his brain told him to keep it on the tip of his tongue. The last time you’d seen it was the night your relationship ended. It’d crossed his face just as you’d begun your rant of never seeing him. It has haunted your memory of that night. Maybe things would’ve been different if you’d stayed on the phone. If he’d just said what he had been thinking. 

“But you saw the video?” 

“I was a little distracted by the setting.” He shifts, his grip on the chains tightening a little. “I’m assuming she’s not the one in the video, even your group isn’t that bold. But she was probably there. Right?” Jongho stays quiet for a brief moment. When he finally does speak, his voice is soft.

“No. She wasn’t.” The confirmation of a “she” hurts more than you had thought it would. It’s your own damn fault. You should’ve just kept the question to yourself. 

“Well,” you fumble for the right words, for anything to not give away the ache in your chest, “I hope she liked it anyway.” 

“Please, Y/N…listen to the song.” The crease between his eyebrows is back. You used to run your thumb over it to smooth it out with a soft laugh and a comment about needing to protect his idol image. 

“Are you seriously using this conversation for self promotion? Or just to brag about how you’ve moved on?” You stand up again. “I’m glad you’re happy, I am. Ateez really seems to be doing great and I’m really proud of that. Of the guys too. But I…I can’t sit here and act like our time together meant nothing. I thought,” You pause, “I thought I was past it. That the ache in my chest when I thought of you was because we never got closure. Real closure.” You shake your head, your teeth digging into your tongue to hold back your words. “But I won’t stay here and listen to you tell me about your new album or your new girlfriend. You should be proud, but advertise it to your fans, not your ex.” He blinks. “Goodnight, Jongho.” You want to say it was nice to see him, but the words can’t make it past your tightened throat. 

Two Years Ago

It’s been a rough week. You’ve felt your mind clouding, the familiar ache of loneliness creeping its way up your spine, burrowing into your heart. You’ve cried more the last few weeks than in your whole relationship. You sit on your couch watching your phone, Jongho should be calling any minute. Then your phone buzzes. 

Something settles in your stomach, it is heavy but you ignore it. He’s busy. You knew what you were signing up for. 

It takes him ten minutes to call you. When he does, he’s still washing his face, but he clearly didn’t want to take any longer than he needed to. 

“Hey baby,” his smile is tired but it eases something in you. You find yourself smiling back. 

“Hi.” You settle yourself back in the cushions of the couch. “I saw some clips from the concert. You guys did really well.” His smile widens. 

“Yeah? It felt like a good show.” His smile softens then. “I wish you could’ve gone.” 

“Me too.” There’s a slight pause where the familiar weight settles over you both. The disappointment that you can’t always attend. 

“I was thinking-“

“So when-“ you laugh when you both start talking at the same time. 

“You go first.” You nod. 

“When will you be back? Saturday, right?” His smile falters.

“Actually…we just had a few shows added. The tickets sold out so quickly, the venues wanted to extend it. We’ll be heading to Sydney from here.” Your smile fades completely. 

“What?”

“I’m sorry baby-“

“When did you find out about this?” His silence speaks volumes. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“I didn’t want to say it over text. We found out last night, but you were already asleep.” 

“So I just won’t see you until after Australia? That’s another month, Jongho.” He tenses at the use of his full name. 

“I know, I’m sorry. But-

“Our anniversary falls in that month.” He goes silent. “You forgot, didn’t you?”

“No. I was going to have something sent to you. I’m so sorry I can’t be there. But we’ll celebrate after.” You’re already shaking your head. 

“No we won’t.” The words start spilling, like a dam has broken and it’s pouring the words you’ve only told yourself. “Because after Australia it’s going to be Europe. Or the States. There will always be more tours. More dates. New shows.” You look at him, at the way his eyes are wide. There’s a faint line of his cleanser around his hairline, the bubbles soaking into the headband he’s wearing. “I…I can’t do this.” You run a hand through your hair. He’s abandoned his skincare routine in favor of watching you without distractions. 

“W-what are you saying?” 

“I’m saying…this is harder than either of us had thought it would be. We can’t keep going on like this.”

“We’ll make changes-“

“It’s not enough, Jongho. I can’t tour with you and you can’t stay here. Even when you are here, you have practice from dawn to dusk or interviews or recording sessions. It never stops. I…I think we should break up.” You watch his cheeks flush, you can practically feel the anxiety flooding his body. 

“Baby please, we’ll make it work. We’ve always made it work.” 

“I’m sorry. But…I can’t.” His expression turns desperate as he hears the tell-tale sign of you about to end the call. 

“Baby wait, let’s discuss this-“

“Goodbye, Jongho. Good luck.” You end the call, your reflection staring back at you. He tries to call you again, but you let it ring as you look at his contact photo. It’s a picture of him on stage smiling at you from the first concert you attended. It was the first and only time you let yourself get a spot by the barricade. You still have the video of when he saw you the first time, how his smile practically split his face. He texts you a few times, all but begging you to pick up, to text back. To talk to him. But you don’t. You silence your phone. 

You find yourself craving comfort, something physical that can help your mind quiet. Almost absentmindedly, you leave the apartment. It’s late, later than you’d ever usually leave. But the slight bustle of the city, the rustling of the trees is more comforting than the silence of your place. You walk to the park that night, the cool summer breeze running through your hair like his hands used to. Like they wouldn’t anymore. 

The tears had come first when you sat on the swing. Your toes caught the ground below you, keeping you somewhat steady as silent tears dripped onto your shirt. It wasn’t until you heard the birds that you realized just how long you spent sitting and staring at the ground. You eventually make your way back home and get ready to try and sleep.

Dating an idol isn’t easy. You hadn’t expected it to be, if you’re honest. You’ve seen how Western celebrities and their non-famous partners were torn apart, you could only assume it’d be worse for an idol. But you and Jongho had known each other since he began training at KQ and you thought you knew what you were getting into; you’d only known life with him with the packed schedules. 

It wasn’t until his group began gaining popularity abroad that the strain became more apparent. You lasted longer than you had thought, grasping desperately to the relationship until it had been months that you hadn’t seen each other in person for more than five minutes. Even calling was hard, with all the cameras on them at all times meant he couldn’t call before or after a schedule and they got back so late that one or both of you was too tired to even pick up. 

It’s been almost two years since you called it quits over FaceTime when he was in Japan. The fans had noticed something was off during the concert the next day, and you’d felt horrible about doing it over the phone, but he had just finished telling you that they got a new show scheduled for the day before they were supposed to leave, which meant you wouldn’t have been able to see him at all before they left for Australia. You’d had enough. It had broken your heart, but the weight that had lifted from your shoulders almost made it worth the way your chest seemed to crack open. Almost. 

Despite your history, you couldn’t find yourself to let go of keeping track of their progress. Every award show or special performance, you watched it live from your couch. You even found yourself attending a few concerts, far from the stage, of course, and donning a mask in case his impeccable eyesight managed to spot you. You were nothing more than an extra fan in the audience. One more seat filled.

Their latest album had showcased units, the first time they’ve had songs with less than eight people at a time. This also meant special music videos for each unit. Jongho’s song had made the ache in your chest worse. The way his voice wrapped around the lyrics rekindled every emotion you’d felt all that time ago. Despite the time that has passed and the turmoil that you felt throughout your relationship, you still loved him dearly. So when you saw a new music video for his solo song had been released at midnight, it only took two glasses of wine for you to build up the courage to watch it. 

The song put in a context that felt so achingly familiar made your stomach turn. Then you saw it: the park. It was halfway between your apartment and his studio. It’s where you would meet up when he was a trainee, where he told you he was set to debut, that they had gotten an eighth member on short notice, that they’d be spending a month in the states to train some more. It’s where you’d assured him you would text him all the time. That you’d be by his side no matter what. It’s where he’d called you his everything. It’s where you’d gone after you ended things. You’d cried there until the sun came up. 

It’s on your way home from work, but you’d taken the long way for two years just to avoid it. Some small part of you had hoped he’d remembered it. That when he passed it, he thought of you. But now here he was, making your special place a setting for content.