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havenwithleeknow · 11 months ago

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push and pull pt. 2 | lee know

pairing: lee know x gn!reader

word count: 4.8k

genre: smut, angst, second chances

warnings: implied sexual content, slight violence (minho punches a wall), lots and lots of feelings

summary: it’s been two months since you left. minho, amongst other things, is still struggling to cope.

part one | masterlist

Mornings for Minho are always the same.

He wakes up—sometimes easily, sometimes with a thick layer of residual grogginess from a night’s sleep clouding his mind. When he can get any sleep, that is.

Most of the time he finds himself struggling against his eyelids, trying and failing to get a mere hour of rest before his alarm is blaring against his eardrums.

He blinks at the ceiling for a while. He pretends that he can’t feel the way the sheets are cold on the left side of the bed.

When he returns to bed, he ignores the silver band sitting on his night stand, identical to the one on his own finger.

It’s colder now. Mid-October brings with it the promise of the holiday season. There’s so much to look forward to: his birthday, Thanksgiving, warm drinks during cold walks in the park, Christmas, snowy mornings, the new year. He’s surprised Hyunjin hasn’t started his daily rampage of sending whatever Christmas song he’s listening to in their group chat. Little things that would normally put a smile on his face don’t anymore. This year, everything feels wrong.

Minho is a creature of habit. More than he would like to admit, actually. His routine is something he clings to; a lifeline at his disposal while the world around him seems to cave in. It’s ingrained in him, molded into every curve and bend of his brain until he can do it backwards with his eyes closed.

There are still two toothbrushes in the cup next to the sink, your extra one that he brought out sitting untouched. He stares into the mirror blankly, letting the bubbles of his toothpaste drip down his chin.

Sometimes, if he looks for too long, he can still picture you next to him. Can still imagine you reaching up and wiping his face with a smile. He runs his hand under the water and flicks the droplets on to the glass. He doesn’t want to stare today.

He trudges into the kitchen and makes two cups of tea. He sets two plates on the table. Rinse and repeat.

October is cold, but he’s used to it by now. The heat of the summer left the same day you did, and all that remains is the empty, cold space of what once was.

It’s everywhere, both around him and inside of him. It’s next to him when he sleeps, it’s in the passenger seat of his car, it’s across the table while he eats and tries to swallow the food that turns to ash in his throat.

At some point, Minho learned to accept that it would always be there. A cold, empty space in the shape of you.

When he leaves for the day, he covers the other plate of food and reheats the now lukewarm cup of tea.

He closes the front door behind him with one last look at the corner of the couch, your corner, nothing but an empty space staring back at him, and silently hopes that the food will be gone by the time he returns.

Work has been shit, for lack of a better word.

Something in Minho snapped after you left. He was quiet, short-tempered, and downright unmotivated.

There’s a freshly patched hole in the practice room from where his fist had connected with drywall, the blood on his knuckles as red as your eyes the day you walked out. The day you turned around and never looked back. The day you left.

It was unnecessary. Minho knows that. But it didn’t stop him from taking his frustration out by sending his fist flying, just barely missing the metal of the doorframe. Jisung had blinked, wide-eyed and afraid. He hadn’t meant for the joke to fall flat and upset him. No one did. No one knew.

Minho came clean while Chan applied ointment to his bruised knuckles. He allowed himself to cry until he was gasping for air, his hiccups echoing off the walls. Chan had let him feel, had held him for what felt like hours while Minho finally grasped the weight of your absence and the hole in his heart.

He felt pathetic. He felt guilty. How could he show up to the very job that pried you away from him without so much as batting an eye? What right did he have to continue living his dream if it wasn’t with you?

Practice ended early that day. The members were quiet. They didn’t know what to say. But in retrospect, there wasn’t anything they could.

Minho went home to an empty bed despite the worried eyes drilling holes into his back as he left the building. And then he kept coming home to emptiness for the weeks and months that followed.

A creature of habit. A routine. A lifeline.

Minho refused to continue with the dating scandal. He was fully prepared to lose his job because of it, too. He walked into the office with his head hung low and Chan at his side. He called it off the exact way he should have the moment it was proposed. He chose you after it was too late. The knife of guilt twisted itself against the flesh of his stomach when the division head simply nodded, respecting his decision. Water over his head. Salt in his wound.

It could’ve been so simple. He could’ve done something. He could have fought against the waves and broken the surface in time to stop you from walking out the door. But he didn’t. He settled for whatever life threw at him instead of fighting for what he wanted. Instead of fighting for you. And when he stepped out of the office, Chan’s hand gripping his shoulder as if he was worried he’d fall apart, Minho allowed himself to drown all over again. Except this time, he deserved it.

In the present day, the studio is empty, save for Chan and Changbin. Jisung is off somewhere doing something for God knows who. Not that it really matters, anyways. He’s usually asleep on the couch during recording sessions.

“Big day,” Chan grins under his mask. Minho can’t see it, but his eyes are telling enough with the way they turn into little crescent moons atop his cheeks. Minho gives a shrug.

“Christ, hyung, have you slept at all?��

Changbin’s brow is furrowed. Minho wants to give him a look as if to ask What do you think? but shakes his head instead.

“Are you okay to record? We could always switch your schedule with—”

“It’s fine.” Minho says quickly, “I don’t want to be at home today anyways.”

Chan and Changbin share a knowing look, but decide against pushing the matter further. It’s been this way for months. They know better than to ask.

Minho would be lying if he said he didn’t feel bad for the way his demeanor affects the group. Because the truth is that he feels fucking terrible. To the members, to you—hell, even to himself, as pathetic as that might be. He feels sorry for himself and he hates it. He hates that he’s dug himself into a hole as deep as the ocean and is struggling to claw at the walls in a desperate attempt to climb out. The sand falls piecemeal between his fingers, like water slipping through a crack in the dam surrounding his heart.

He lives with a mountain of regret sitting on his chest every single day. It’s heavy, weighing his limbs down like lead as he tries to move forward despite the aching of his bones. The regret morphs into shame somewhere in his veins; reminds him that he’s still the same coward he was all those months ago. Despite your decision to leave, Minho knows that somewhere deep down you wanted to stay. You wanted him to stop you. But he didn’t.

The recording goes smoothly, to Minho’s own surprise. His condition hasn’t been the best, and this week is a particularly hard one. He’s gotten maybe twenty hours of sleep in total. His diet has been shit. He isn’t drinking enough water. He must look like it, too, judging by the way he can feel Chan’s eyes tracing the hollowness of his cheeks and dark circles under his eyes through the glass of the sound booth.

He doesn’t return home right away. Normally he would, but he can’t find it in himself today. He’s not sure how much longer he can act as if the emptiness is a welcome guest and let it live alongside him like a moth to a flame.

So he stays. He throws himself into the practice room and lets his body move until his lungs are about to give out, he sways back and forth on one of the chairs in Chan’s studio while the other works on a few tracks, he wanders the halls of the building and politely greets anyone who walks by. He tries, more than anything, to foster a sense of normalcy. And for a split second, while he’s sitting with his back flush against the practice room wall, a starburst of fresh paint that doesn’t quite match the rest of the room above his head, he feels that he might be able to get used to it.

A creature of habit. A routine. A lifeline.

It’s late by the time he heads home. He feels lighter, but it’s not enough of a distraction to get rid of the tug he feels at the back of his mind. The guilt is still there. The shame, the regret. It pushes and pulls him until he feels like his body might snap in two, his mind going one way while his heart goes the other.

The drive home is quiet. Minho zones out more times than he can count on his fingers, letting the streetlights and trees fly past him in a blur along the side of the road. He almost misses the turn into his apartment complex before he slams his brakes, prompting the car behind him to honk and send him jumping out of his skin.

He’s still so jittery by the time he makes it to his parking spot that he almost doesn’t realize there’s a car parked in front of his unit. He squints against the darkness and feels his body run cold when he notices the light on in his kitchen window.

Minho stumbles out of the car on legs that feel like jelly. He scrambles to the front door and wills himself to calm down as his hands shake against the lock, his keys jingling. He takes two deep breaths, counting to ten to try and stabilize himself. Maybe he left the light on this morning. Maybe the car is someone else’s from another unit. Maybe he’s wrong.

On the exhale of the second breath, Minho opens the door. He lets his eyes trail from the floor up, painfully slow, scared that the only thing waiting for him is an empty space with wide, open arms that he’ll never be able to fill.

The sight of the back of your head nearly incapacitates him on the spot. Upon hearing the door open, you turn, your eyes finally meeting his for the first time in months. Minho has to stop a noise from leaving his mouth. But he feels it, thick and heavy in the back of his throat, a lump of words and apologies that he’s rehearsed over and over in his head fighting its way out.

You give him a sad smile, and it’s then that Minho realizes your eyes are as red as they were that day.

“I, uh, let myself in. I still have a key. You didn’t change the locks.”

Because I was waiting for you, he wants to say. He watches as your eyes trail over him, taking in all of the ways he both has and hasn’t changed in the time that’s passed. He lets you, only briefly remembering that he probably looks like complete shit, but still Minho nonetheless.

“I thought you’d be back earlier.”

Your voice has more of an edge to it now. Minho’s insides twist with shame.

“I was at the company.”

“When are you not?” you sigh, “Old habits die pretty hard, I guess.”

“I didn’t—how was I supposed to know that you were coming?”

“You weren’t. But that’s on me for thinking things might’ve changed.”

Minho takes a deep breath. His eyes wander to the now empty dining table. He realizes that you got rid of your share of food he made this morning. At some point you must’ve followed his gaze, because you clear your throat to get his attention.

“We should talk. That’s…why I came. If that’s okay with you.”

Minho feels relief bloom in his stomach. He nods quickly and toes off his shoes after realizing he’s still standing in the doorway. By the time he’s seated across from you on the couch, his hands are so sweaty he needs to wipe them against his jeans.

The air is thick, but for some reason Minho feels like it’s easier to breathe. With you in front of him, a sight that he thought he might never be able to see again, he allows himself to indulge in the moment. He watches as you sit with your legs tucked under you, flush against your corner of the couch almost like it’s instinct; like it’s something you’ve been doing all along. He lets himself imagine that somewhere, in a different universe, he walked through that door before the sun went down and greeted you with a smile, to which you responded by meeting his lips with your own and dragging him inside. He lets himself think about the emptiness he’s felt. He lets himself want.

A few more beats of silence pass before you finally speak. “You never called.” you say, sounding defeated.

Your voice is small, and Minho wants nothing more than to pull you into him and tell you he didn’t mean it. He wants to tell you that he stood in front of the phone every day, thumbing across your contact in a silent fight with himself, wanting nothing more than to hear your voice.

“And for a while I thought…I don’t know. I thought that me leaving was what you wanted.” Salt in his wound. “And I tried to accept it. I waited a week, maybe two, before I went back home. I pretended that I was okay. But I wasn’t. I don’t know how I could be when it felt like you let me walk out. When it still feels like even after all this time…nothing changed for you.”

Minho squeezes his eyes shut. Because not only was that far from the truth, but it was the last thing he ever wanted you to assume.

Anticipation hangs in the air. He sucks in a sharp breath that’s cold against his teeth. “I never…” he trails off, scrubbing a hand over his face, “Fuck. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” you ask, face twisted in confusion. “I say all of that and the only thing you can give me in response is a ‘sorry’?”

“No. Jesus, fuck, just listen to me. I’m–”

“If this is how it’s gonna go Minho, just—if all I’m here for is some kind of half-assed explanation after months of nothing but radio silence then maybe this was a mistake and I—”

“No.” he barely manages to croak out, eyes wide. “No. Please.”

It feels like the ground might split into two and swallow him whole. The thought of you walking out again, leaving after you’re finally within arm’s reach, it’s all too much. His brain is short circuiting on the idea that this might be the last chance you ever give him, making it hard to find the words he wants to say.

“Then tell me what you want, Minho. Tell me. That’s all I ever asked. That’s all I ever needed from you. I needed to feel like you wanted me here and I wasn’t just some sort of—some sort of placeholder. You never told me anything. You shut me out and kept me here waiting and waiting without so much as an explanation as to why you were so guarded all the time. And then I had to sit there and just accept that you were going to go and pretend to do all the things you never did with me with someone else? Do you see why I couldn’t do it, now?”

“That wasn’t my idea.”

“It didn’t have to be.”

Words as sharp as a knife. Water over his head. Salt in his wound.

Minho wishes he could have you slither your way into his mind. He wishes you could feel every emotion he’s feeling, what he’s felt since you’ve been gone. He thinks about the nights he spent with his cheek pressed against his tear-stained pillow, and wonders if you did the same. He thinks about the emptiness looming over his shoulder, waiting for him down the hallway, cold and unforgiving.

He runs a hand through his hair, long dark strands falling around his face, and prepares to swim towards the surface.

“You’re right,” he starts, “I let you leave. But it wasn’t because I wanted you to, y/n, I—God. You think I was happy? I lived every day regretting the fact that I watched you walk out that door. I still do. I replayed that moment over and over, wondering what would have happened if I stopped you. But I knew that you were hurting. I knew that I, of all people, didn’t deserve to beg for you to stay. Not after what happened.”

His eyes burn, the threat of tears imminent with the way his throat aches as he swallows down a lump. He’s looking at you so intently, so painfully desperate, hoping that if you can’t hear the sincerity of his words you’ll at least be able to see it swimming in his eyes. Legs kicking against the current. Hands reaching for the surface. Water over his head.

“I was a coward,” he whispers, “I still am. But the guilt was all too much. I couldn’t bring myself to reach out to you, I didn’t deserve it. And because of that I made things worse. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. This life, this…” he gestures between the two of you with his hand, “I want it back. I want it so fucking bad. I want you to be the first thing I see when I wake up in the morning. I want to rush over to the window and close the curtains so the sun doesn’t wake you up. I want to make two cups of tea and smile at you when you walk out of the room. I want to come home and tell you about my day and ask you what we should do tomorrow. I want it. For the first time in my life I’m going to be selfish and tell you that I want it. I want you. I will always want you.”

Minho can see it. The sun above the water, its rays glistening against the tide. Your eyes, wide and glossy, staring at him with the love that he once feared had been lost forever.

“I messed up, unbelievably so. I failed to prioritize us, to prioritize you, and I will spend the rest of my life trying to make up for that. I will never, ever, put you in that situation again. You are the beginning, the middle, and the end for me, y/n. I don’t remember who I was before you and God, I don’t even want to think about who I would be without you. I love—”

His voice gives out then. All the months of anguish and loneliness bubbling over and finally spilling out around him, a choked sob pushing itself up and out of his throat. The weight of the water against his chest has his lungs on fire. But the surface is right there. He screws his eyes shut.

“I love you. I love you so fucking much. I’ve never loved someone so much before and it scares me so bad. It’s terrifying how incapable I am without you here. It’s like you’re the air and I’m—I can’t breathe.”

Minho doesn’t hear you get up. But the moment he feels your hand against his cheek, your thumb wiping away the tears, he peels his eyes open. You’re kneeling before him with bloodshot eyes that match his own. Tear-stained cheeks that mirror one another.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper into the small space between where your lips are inches apart, “I’m sorry I left. I’m sorry I ran from you instead of figuring it out. I just…I figured it’d be easier than having to hear you say that you didn’t want me anymore.”

Minho shakes his head so violently that he thinks his neck might snap. “I would never—”

“I know. I know you wouldn’t. I was just scared. I thought that if you left me I’d never be able to live with myself so I left first. And that was selfish. I’m so sorry.”

“I let you do it,” he whispers back, “I let you believe that’s what I wanted. I’m sorry too.”

It’s silent then. Both of your eyes searching the other’s while your hearts beat in sync.

“Thank you for waiting for me,” you finally say with a sad smile, “I’m sorry for making you think that I wouldn’t come home.”

Minho gives himself one final push towards the surface.

“I would have torn the world apart to get you back.”

And then he feels your arms pull him out of the water.

Minho sighs into your mouth when your lips finally meet in a kiss. It’s soft, gentle, the both of you in the most fragile state you’ve ever been in and neither wanting the other to break. Minho can taste the salt against your lips but isn’t sure who it belongs to. When your other hand comes up to cup his face, he realizes it’s his, more tears rolling down his cheeks.

Breaking the surface allows Minho to breathe again. He feels his lungs fill with fresh air as his body gulps down every bit of you against his lips. You, you, you. Your bodies melt into one another; Minho’s back against the couch and you flush against his chest. He lets his arms find their way around you and relishes in the feeling of having you back where you belong. With him.

He thinks about the months he spent waiting for this moment. He sends a mental ‘fuck you’ to the emptiness that’s slowly making its way out the front door and silently hopes that it hits it on its way out.

The kiss is gentle until it’s not. It’s soft touches and slow movements until it’s teeth clacking and hands everywhere. You, you, you.

Minho’s head is spinning. He sits up and pulls you on to his lap, your knees on either side of his body. He hooks his hand behind your neck to tilt your head back and lick inside your mouth better. He missed this. He missed feeling you beneath his fingertips, pulling you in as much as he can until your bodies are melting against one another.

Your hands feel like heaven in his hair, nails grazing his scalp while his mouth makes work of the skin on your neck. “Minho,” you say breathlessly, “I love you.”

He presses a kiss to your collarbone. “I know,” he says quietly. Because he does. He knows you love him. He’s more sure of it than he has been about anything in his life. “I love you too.”

It continues like that. Quiet whispers of affection, a trail of clothes leading to the bedroom, until Minho has you laid out for him, hair fanned out on the bed looking the most beautiful he’s ever seen you. He wants to live in this moment. He wants to hear you say his name over and over again as he situates himself between your thighs, fingers laced through yours while you shake beneath him. He takes his time. He loses himself in the way you swallow him whole, clench around him so beautifully that he swears he can feel tears stinging at the corners of his eyes.

“I love you,” he mumbles against your lips before placing a kiss on each cheek, hips snapping into yours like his life depends on it, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

You barely manage a response before you’re coming undone beneath him, his own following not long after.

When it’s over, the both of you in a post-coital state that leaves your skin sticky with sweat and eyes heavy, Minho holds you tighter than he ever has before. Scared that if he were to let go you’d disappear. He thinks about how the bed is warm now. He thinks about how he’ll finally be able to sleep tonight. He thinks that this is happiness.

Minho reaches over and pulls the ring off the nightstand. “Don’t act so surprised,” he chuckles when you look up at him incredulously, as if you expected him to throw it away or something, “it never moved from that spot. I told you. I waited, every day.”

He slides it on to your finger and leans in for a kiss, smiling when your hand reaches for his neck and he can feel the metal against his skin.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, “I won’t do it again. I promise.”

Minho kisses back. “I promise, too.”

Silence then. Two hearts beating as one. Standing on the shore looking out at the sea.

“Thank you,” Minho says after a while. Your fingers stop where they’re tracing lazy circles into his arm.

“For what?”

Minho sighs. It’s as soft as the ocean breeze.

“I don’t even know how to swim,” he whispers against the shell of your ear, “but you taught me how.”

Mornings for Minho are always the same.

He wakes up—sometimes easily, sometimes with a thick layer of residual grogginess from a night’s sleep clouding his mind. When he can get any sleep, that is.

Most of the time, he finds it hard with you tucked into his side, lips parted and breathing heavy. His body wills him to stay awake at night and admire you, tracing the lines of your face and body until he’s memorized all of you from top to bottom. He tries and fails to blink the fatigue out of his eyes in the mornings, but it’s hard when the bed is so unbelievably warm that it lulls him back to sleep more often than not.

When the first instance of sunlight begins to trickle through the window, paled out by the blinds, Minho pads across the floor to pull the curtains shut. It’s something he got used to doing, especially because he knows that you hate it when the light wakes you up. When he returns to bed, he sighs in content when you instinctively bury yourself into his side again like he never left.

November brings with it the promise of shorter days and longer nights. The air is cold, but Minho finds warmth in your intertwined hands, shoved into his jacket pocket whenever the two of you walk down the street.

His life is fuller now. He smiles when he feels you next to him while he sleeps, when he laughs at you in the passenger’s seat of his car singing off-key to the radio, when his eyes catch yours across the table while he eats his breakfast before a long day at work.

Minho is a creature of habit. More than he would like to admit, actually. His routine is something he clings to; a lifeline that he cherishes while the world around him blossoms into something beautiful. It’s ingrained in him, molded into every curve and bend of his brain until he can do it backwards with his eyes closed.

He walks into the kitchen and makes two cups of tea. He sets two plates on the table. Rinse and repeat.

As he waits for you to wake up, brown eyes staring out at the street from his kitchen window, Minho can see it so clearly. The water looks different from the surface. The push and pull of the tide seems calmer, almost serene from where he stands, a stark contrast to the crashing of waves over his head. He takes a deep breath, appreciating the way the air fills his lungs and a feeling of contentment settles somewhere deep within his heart. His wound no longer burns.

And when the sun finally comes out to greet him, tired eyes peeking around the corner, Minho smiles. He does the exact same thing every day.

“Good morning.” he says, kissing the tip of your nose.

A creature of habit. A routine. A lifeline.

“I love you.”

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havenwithleeknow · 1 year ago

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Right where you left me….

lee know x reader; angst

I’m sure that you got a wife out there, kids and Christmas but I’m unaware ‘cause I’m right where you left me.

You couldn’t think of anything worst happening today; customers being asshole to you, your boss constantly screaming at your face the whole day and accidentally spilling hot coffee in your hands, that’s why there’s a prominent red burnt area in your hands right now.

But you none of these things matter, because what’s important to you right now is you’re currently sitting at your favorite restaurant with your boyfriend, lee minho. All your worries and sadness suddenly disappear when you’re with him. You can’t see yourself without him, especially in the future.

“Let’s stop this. Let’s break up” he said and at that time, his words felt like ringing into your ears and stabbing your chest. “What?” you said wanting to see if he could repeat himself. “I know you heard what I just said, don’t make me repeat myself” “no, I really can’t hear you” he sighed and took a deep breath before saying it again “let’s break up” and again, it felt like your world stopped with just three words.

“But why? Did I do something wrong? Tell me, how can I make it right?” you reached for his hand, ready to beg for him to stay. You couldn’t breathe, your world will collapse if he leaves. You felt lost right now and you will do anything to fix what’s broken. “We were okay this morning when I kissed you goodbye, so what’s going on baby? What happened? Please tell me and i’ll fix it” you didn’t notice your tears streaming down your face and you couldn’t care less about it.

He shook his head and said “it’s not working anymore, I felt like everything is forced. I don’t love you anymore and I can’t keep pretending that I still do” you thought you’re already broken until you hear this sentence that totally broke you into pieces. Everything was forced? He doesn’t love me anymore? You were so speechless so minho took the opportunity to leave you at the restaurant where you used to spend time with him, your favorite restaurant.

That’s what happened four years ago but you still find yourself sitting at the very restaurant where he broke your heart. You laughed at yourself while sipping the wine you used to drink on dates with minho. You feel like a big idiot pretending everything’s alright.

People passing by are looking at you in pity with your current state; spacing out, mascara running yet you’re laughing alone.

After minho left your shared apartment, he blocked you in every contacts possible and made it impossible for you to reach out to him. You never heard from him after he left you hanging, asking questions “what went wrong?”

Four years felt like yesterday because of how still bruised and wounded your soul is. He destroyed everything in you, he made your world crumble.

You’re miserable but for sure, he’s the opposite. He has a wife, and a kid spending christmas, thanksgiving, holloween and every holiday possible together meanwhile you’re waking up alone, lonely and couldn’t move forward no matter how much you tried.

You felt pathetic and you wanted this stupidity to end but what can you do? Maybe the only way to end this is to see him and ask for a closure, but how?

Lee Minho, the man that you love and despise at the same time. You hate him because no matter how hard you try, you still find yourself longing for him and you hope that one day, these damned feelings for him finally disappear. That’s when you know you won. Won the war against yourself, not only just against Minho.

#lee minho #lee know ff #lee know angst #lee minho angst #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagines #lee know #minho angst #fanfic #stray kids angst #skz angst #straykids angst #straykids reactions

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havenwithleeknow · 1 year ago

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saudade | lee know

pairing: lee know x gn! reader

genre: angst, fluff

au: exes to eventual lovers

wc: 22k+

warnings: language, anxiety, breakup, insecurities, miscommunication, slowburn, too much wallowing, just sad vibes and mc and minho longing for each other :’(

a/n: repost !

one.

The breakup was messy.

That was partially true, because you were the one who had mostly shed all the tears, but in actuality, the week long sobered up you had admitted to your delusional counterpart that this wasn’t to be a game of blame.

Minho had your best interests at heart, you heard him out and even sympathised with the logic, but at the end of the day your exposed vulnerability had set up its self defences in favour of the innate need to let your feelings to the forefront, because after all, you had worn your heart on your sleeve.

It was a mechanism that had built its wall with excruciating pain of lifting every block of brick the deeper you looked into what you had thought to be a relationship; the fonder your actions, the bigger the amount of effort you had to put into picking up that brick. Everything you had done or said ran through your muscles in painful pricks, a jab at every crevice of your being a reprimanding ramification.

You refused to talk to the man, ignoring his presence in a room and revelling in the forlorn glances thrown your way. You likened your pathetic state to his downturned mouth, intentionally swerving out of his way and going as far as to feign ignorance at the mention of his cats; you weren’t weak.

That was a sentiment you were entitled to convince yourself of, save for the conforms of your room where you could sulk and let the tendrils around your heart tighten in a chokehold.

However, there was a satisfaction of feigning your days into careless smiles and easing yourself into old routines, because it came with the bittersweet taste of regret oozing from the man causing you your miseries, coating him with the consequences of his undertakings. It lead you to believe that the pettiness on your part was only justified.

But slipping back to old habits was not easy. You still laid the table for two sometimes, still brought out two blankets for days you slept in front of the television and still stumbled upon cat toys laying around your house. It made you angry at the way Minho had seeped into your life and left parts of him still etched in your memory that prompted you to preserve those small nothings in every corner of your apartment. It was tiring having to recall small moments of genuine happiness, floundering about searching for it and holding on to it for a moment too long for you to self acclaim yourself as ‘moved on’ and ‘over it all’.

This wasn’t good. You were far too invested in this even now and had to let go of the past in whatever way possible.

So when you were looking for a job, you were desperate enough to grab one at a 24/7 convenience store, even though that meant you would probably end up with a graveyard shift on the weekends, which for you worked perfectly fine if it was to be accounted for distracting you from your thoughts.

Now, you were not so sure you had made the right decision.

It was one thing to work there on weekends for the extra pay, but it was another to drag your exhausted self there after a week of academic torture, only too aware of the pile of assignments waiting for you back home that you hadn't even spared a glance at in the entire week.

This was yet another life choice you were obligated to put in the bag labelled 'questionable and regretful' along with a million others, but you were adamant to admit it regardless of the concerned gazes of your friends; you smiled and waved it off saying you were doing quite alright.

Minho didn’t buy it.

Every single thing that had happened since the breakup had weighed him down like a soaking wet bag of cotton stuffed inside his clothes, and much to nobody’s surprise at all, he blamed himself for your haggard state.

That was saying a lot because he would show up to lectures in his sweatpants and a hoodie, not even bothering to sit upright and pay attention, choosing to bury his throbbing head in his arms for the entire lecture.

The aftermath of the situation was not something he had foreseen and just sometimes he regretted having to be honest all the time. He was torn between this urge to turn back time and never say a word about it and the desire to give in to the constant ache in his chest whenever he saw you, thought of you or dreamt of you.

Minho had never felt this way; never had this contradicting impulsion of either slinking into his seat till he melted into the plastic or the itching spring in his feet that wanted to run to you and beg you for another chance.

He did want another chance, but you had been so frustratingly clear in drawing the line, he had to hold himself back from reaching out to you. He took a step back when you were near but smiled at you though you took no notice of him; let you borrow the book he had been waiting to read for a week, even though he had carefully hidden it away from other eyes; made sure you were hydrating even though he had to put up with Jisung’s whining about how weird it was to go up to you and hand you a bottle of juice (he paid Jisung ten dollars just to shut him up).

He pretended not to be hurt when you left the book on the table without borrowing it, put up with the tight tug at his chest when you refused to accept the drink deeming the heaviness in his chest deserving.

Minho is content watching you smile from afar at someone else he doesn’t know, at something he can’t make out from the way your lips move. He closes his eyes and hopes to forget the image of you ingrained in his memory and the past that he had already ruined seeps it’s way through the cracks of your image like tendrils of a vine.

But Minho was keen and observant of people he cared about.

“Hey (y/n),”

Sighing deeply to yourself you put up a perfunctory smile.

“That’ll be 900 won.”

“How are you doing? Jisung said you left class early yesterday,” Minho says, genuinity weaving through his voice and face, innocent worried eyes peeking from under his bangs that lay across his eyes.

“Peachy keen, is there anything else I can help you with?”

“Are you sure? You look pale…”

“I’m fine, can you please pay now?”

“Have you eaten?”

“Will you pay already?”

Here’s the thing about pulling all nighters – it affects your ability to feign interest in conversations you would rather not be a part of and are especially thankful for customers on your shift who come in with clear intent of what they want and what they need, fortunately that only leaves you to deal with them quickly. So right now, you were on the edge of breaking and cracking your facade under the constant interrogation.

“I’m sorry, you just don’t look that well to me, and I’m worried about you.”

You are quick to resign yourself from feeling bad about Minho’s forlorn tone and large eyes that looked at you with sorrow; you felt like you had just told off a child for eating too many candies.

“Just…pay already,” you bite back the words waiting to tumble out of your lips any given second, then with a sigh add, “please.”

Minho fumbles around with his wallet, pulling out the bills and placing them on the counter, however, he doesn’t pick up the kimbap roll he had purchased.

“That’s for you,” he says, motioning towards the plastic covered roll with his chin as he tucked his wallet back into his pocket.

“What?”

“Don’t skip meals, it’s not healthy for you.”

You’ve obviously realised what was happening but before you could breathe out another word, you heard his hurried footsteps across the floor and the jingle of the bell above the door, leaving you leaning across the counter, your lips in the middle of protesting dismissal of his good will, but it’s already too late and you realise that with resentment as you watch the boy cross the street in a sprint and walk away, shoulders hunched and head bowed low.

Minho may be content with watching you from afar, but he can be just as adamant as you are, and one day he hopes to make it all up to you, but until then he struggles against your cracking image, fighting against the vines that shoot past, resolute on resisting the damage of his own actions.

two.

You studied the box you were holding, flipping it over a few times in your hands, hearing the distinct rattle of small, hard somethings inside. You thought you could smell sugar, too. The box looked and felt expensive – the texture of it, the delicate ribbon looped and tied round it, the exactness of its corners. You tried to think of where or whom it could have come from. After all, you weren’t expecting anything, let alone anything important or special.

But that was definitely your name scrawled across the top of the box in a surprisingly fancy script.

You don’t recognise the handwriting, the penmanship was too exquisite.

“Look at you, got yourself a little secret admirer huh?” Jisung’s taunt was loud enough to turn a few heads your way and you felt yourself growing uncomfortably hot at the snickers you received, quickly retracting the box inside your bag, stuffing it in unceremoniously.

Your eyes momentarily flickered to your left where you knew Minho was sitting a few seats away on the row above yours, but he was busy talking to the small group of people surrounding him. He either didn’t hear or if he did, he didn’t care enough. Or maybe he did care, but just ignored it.

Not that you cared whether he noticed or not.

Turning towards the over excited boy beside you, you let out a heavy sigh at the smug grin on his face.

“I saw that,” his saccharine smile makes you flinch inwardly, the way he rested his elbow on the desk making you want to knock it off with a flick of your hand.

“Saw what?” you busy yourself taking out your supplies for the class, hoping that you wouldn’t have to be interrogated about the box inside your bag.

As it turns out, Jisung was not interested about the pandora’s box, well, in a way he was, but right now he was more interested in what he had just seen and that’s saying a lot because Jisung, contrary to his ridiculously short attention span in class and his usual aloofness to a lot of things, was a very observant person.

“I saw you looking at him,” there is a tantalising lilt to his words, one that makes you hover your hands around in the air as if caught red handed doing something bad, but you shake that feeling off with a well fed lie you’ve accustomed yourself to.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You only hear a hum of acknowledgement before being spared the further mortification of confrontation when the professor walks in. As the class settles down, mumbling a less than enthusiastic greeting at the professor, you slump over your desk, doing your best to have your face anywhere but in Jisung’s line of sight.

You don’t need to be in his peripheral vision, however, to lose your damn mind, because he happens to be very good at always having the last say of words.

“If it makes you feel better, he was looking at you too,” he whispers in your ear and though you don’t even dare acknowledge him, you can sense the smirk gracing his face, “perhaps loverboy there might have been a little jealous.”

You don’t say anything, but for the rest of your lecture you blatantly try to ignore the feeling of someone staring your back down.

Your innate ability to not even glance at Minho anymore was only at par with his ostentatious nonchalance at the same.

Before, you would always pass glances with him in classes, sticking your tongue out at him and then chortling silently when he just stared back at you with a deadbeat face, lips puckering out and the playful disdain in his head shake making you double over your desk, hiding away from your professor’s view.

Now your gaze remains stubborn on the presentation on the board, spinning your pen in one hand while resting your head on the palm of the other. He finds his eyes staring towards your bag, as if he could see the box you had stuffed inside if he stared hard enough, teeth biting onto his lips as he tapped his fingers on his desk nervously.

A nudge to his side jolts him from his state, narrowing his eyes at the culprit who was motioning in front with his head. If the implication was not enough, the telltale voice of the professor sounds out in good humour.

“Mr. Lee, if you would be so kind enough to pay your attention to my lecture rather than (y/n)’s back, I would appreciate it.”

A chorus of snickers and giggles breaks out, immediately shushed out by the professor who seemed to be enjoying the indulgence none the same.

You burned in your seat, sinking your head further down under the teasing eyes directed towards you, kicking Jisung under the table when he snickered loud enough to elicit a few more giggles and yet you never turned around to glare at the man causing you your miseries. God, only Minho would get caught in class for something like this!

Even if you did manage to cool down your face, tugging at the neck of your shirt and fanning yourself when the professor’s back was turned, your mind was churning with a trainwreck of thoughts, most of which was making you fumble around, unable to pay attention to anything except the loud buzzing in your ears. Consciously, you straighten your back and cross your legs under the table only to wiggle around in your seat when you realise there wasn’t enough leg space to do that. Your embarrassment increases tenfold.

Minho is not spared as the victim to his share of awkwardness as he all but clears his throat a little too loudly and every breath he takes sounds magnified now. It doesn't help that you stand out like a sore thumb in his eyes, fidgeting in your seat, obviously uncomfortable.

His chances of redemption were looking staggeringly low, any likelihood that you would not hate him more than you already did after he put you under public awkwardness was a shot in the dark.

When the class ended, you were the first one to dash out of the door, almost dropping the books you were trying to stuff inside your bag while sprinting across the floor. Safe to say, Minho didn’t chase you, saving his red faced apology for later.

three.

Minho was a good cook.

He knew exactly how much salt the marination required and the seasoned experience of how long he should let the broth simmer. What he didn’t know was how to bake, and he was in the very middle of doing exactly that; it would be safe to say that even though the general conundrums were proving to be back-breaking and the results were highly questionable, he hasn’t burnt anything down, yet.

An array of ingredients lie about, covering every inch of the workstation Felix had wiped clean only that morning, the powdered flour like snow on the slab and the salted chocolate mix sitting abandoned with an egg-covered whisk in it. Maybe Felix died a little inside but the state of his kitchen in shambles would have been slightly more concerning had it not been for the flour covered man sitting amidst the mess, eyes frantically skimming through a cookbook with splatters of batter speckled on it, hair sticking out like a madman caught in the middle of a very traumatic experience in a particularly intense episode of a Gordon Ramsey cook-off.

“Do I want to know?”

Felix started off timidly, torn between comforting his visibly distraught friend and suppressing an itching urge to reach out for the rag sitting so alluringly on his counter and wipe the whole thing down like it never happened in the first place.

Which were Minho’s sentiments exactly at this point, except he just wished he could start all over again.

He resigns with a sigh, slumping against the counter and abandoning his fifth batch of batter, the whisk clinking against the glass bowl, his heavy breath sifting the stray flour on the counter in the act.

“I used salt in the batter,” he says, hanging his head lower and lower as if it were a physical amalgamation of how he was losing one brain cell per second just standing there in the kitchen that smelt like chocolates and it was honestly making him sick.

“Fucking salt in place of sugar Lix, I don’t know what to do anymore…”

It only takes another heavy sigh on his end and his very much flour covered hands rubbing at his face for Felix to make his decision; Minho needed help, good lord he needed help.

“Hyung…” Felix was quick to move around the counter towards his elder, gently pulling him into a hug only to feel the telltale warmth of tears soaking through his shirt and grazing his shoulder. This was concerning.

“Hyung, talk to me, please.”

A part of Minho knows that this sudden exposure to an incorrigible vulnerability was scaring the younger boy, undoubtedly because he had never put his feelings on display like this, and that part was telling him to stop because if anything, he didn’t want to be an inconvenience, but this only made him sob harder.

Felix was inevitably taken aback at the sudden outburst, but he could not ignore the growing suspicion that this was more than frustration over failed baking endeavours. Minho did the best he could, but he would never break down completely over things he could not achieve, maybe pissed but never so despaired to shed tears over it.

“Why can’t I make some stupid fucking chocolates!” a sniffling intervention cut through, Minho’s sobs almost immediately ceasing as he rubbed at his eyes vigorously, a very alarmed Felix left to blink at the sudden change.

“Okay… a penny for your thoughts?”

Minho sniffs again, wiping his eyes on his shirt sleeve and carding a hand through his hair before explaining.

“I’ve been trying,” Minho shoves the recipe book in front of his roommate’s face, “to make this for two hours now, and I keep fucking up.”

Felix creases his brow at the said recipe for salted caramel chocolates, eyes flickering in confusion between the man waving it in front of him and the newly ignited frustration in his eyes before venturing hesitantly.

“Hyung, you don’t even like this…”

Whatever it was about those six words seemed to have drenched out the fury in Minho’s eyes, for he blinked rapidly as if flickering between the numerous emotions he was suddenly exposed to, only to look away abashedly.

“It’s not for me,” his words, though mumbled out softly, seemed to have stuck themselves down his throat, a visibly forced will to have them tumble through his mouth and even then they lingered in the heavy air.

A sudden realisation dawns on Felix, but before he can think anything of it, he’s blurting it out in a loud voice, surprising to even his own ears.

“What the fuck hyung, are you serious?!”

“I know what I’m doing.”

“Yeah, you’re digging your own grave is what you’re doing, glad we’re clear on that.”

Felix isn’t a particularly spiteful person, but his words come out implying such a sentiment against his better judgement. Nobody can blame him because he had a firsthand experience of the complete trainwreck that The Breakup was (it was mutually decided by your friend group to capitalise on the rather dreadful affair) to the point where he had felt like he had been at least one of the involved person on more than one occasion; he was clearly upset and trepid about Minho’s sudden endeavours.

“You’re making it sound so bad,” Minho could all but huff out, crossing his arms across his chest challengingly.

“What part of gifting your ex handmade chocolates on valentine’s day doesn’t sound like a bad idea?” Felix challenged slightly more intensely.

“I never said I was going to give it to (y/n)!”

“Oh yeah, so you’re telling me you haven’t been moping around for months around the house looking like a war widow mourning the death of your husband–”

“That’s an oddly descriptive–”

“– are you seriously telling me you’re not making (y/n)’s favorite chocolates right now?”

“Have I really been looking like a war widow?”

“Hyung!”

“Jesus Lix, I’m trying to make things right!”

“By giving your ex handmade chocolates?? On valentine’s day?!”

“What part of making things right did you not understand?”

“What part of the word ‘ex’ did you not understand?”

“Okay look,” Minho sighs, leaning back against the counter, “I know this is crazy but…I feel like – I feel so…I have to make things right.”

There was a finality to his words but held a lot more things unsaid in a way they couldn’t be put through mere syllables. Felix knew how hard Minho had taken it upon himself; you had almost entirely dissociated yourself for a week and when you were back, it had seemed like Minho was nothing but a figment of your imagination that had occurred and now you were up and awake from that fantasy as if reality itself had slapped you in the face, leaving behind a harsh mark imprinted on your cheek.

It was jarring, to say the least, and your mutual friend circle had been obligated to tiptoe around the two of you until you had entirely removed yourself to save them all the awkwardness. Though it was a relief to not have to hold his breath when he was stuck with you two in a room, he was not, and neither were any of your friends, happy about the way you were distancing yourself for their sake. He would be more than happy to have his friends back together, though exempting whatever sentiments you had towards Minho, but whatever this was, Felix had an inkling that it wasn’t Minho’s brightest ideas.

“You know why you guys broke up right?”

Felix’s baritone is like a huge boulder that resounds within Minho’s chest with a dull thud, weighing upon his conscience and his cautious tone tears it through moments later.

When Minho doesn’t answer, Felix ventures to say,

“Hyung, none of us were too happy when we found out, in fact Chan was mad at you and I’ve never seen him lose his cool like that. Are you positively sure that this is something you want to make amends for already?”

Some distant voice in Minho’s head was vigorously nodding along and cling on to every word Felix said; he would like to believe that it was because he was being logical, but in reality he was scared, and had it not been the strong scent of burnt chocolate he inhaled in the few seconds he let himself mull over his words, he probably would have seeked solace in the precautionary counsel and given up.

In hindsight, he would have grown to regret that decision as well had he actually gone through with it, but he realised that even if you ended up hating his guts and purposefully tried to mend a wound that he had no experience nor the know-how about, he would have deserved it all and so much more.

The familiar throbs of dull thuds start to creep up along his forehead, his eyes closing on their own accord as the numbness settles in. Minho was far away from his thoughts at such times, a momentary relief from all the churning and buzzing his mind was otherwise bare to, letting the pain slowly seep through his entire head till he was drowning in it.

“Will you help me?”

The request is barely mumbled, devoid of any intonation, but Felix knows that this was a call for help and there was no turning back for his roommate now.

“Fine,” he concedes, “but I don’t want my name being dragged into this, I’m only helping you because I don’t want you to wreck my kitchen.” This was Minho’s kitchen as much as it was his.

Minho only nods with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

four.

“Minho did what?!”

That’s it, Felix was signing up for new friends – preferably friends who did not potentially get him kicked out of the library for yelling.

He shushes Jisung with a violent wave of his hands, fingers pressing upon his lips as did so many other people sitting beside him, their glares of annoyance turned upon the duo who bowed in apology.

“That was Minho?” Jisung yells in a whisper, eyes wide open and books long abandoned in pursuit of what he had cited as “hot tea”. Felix wondered whether he had made a mistake after all, telling his friend about it.

“Yes, but you’re not supposed to tell anyone!”

“What? Why not?”

“Because ughh,” Felix stressed, lowering his tone and leaning across the table, “Minho doesn’t want (y/n) to know it’s him, that’s why the fancy printed note!”

As if the world had finally started making sense to him, Jisung’s mouth forms into an o, eyes widening further till his eyebrows disappear under his bangs.

“Hold on, I thought Minho wanted to apologise, then why would he be so secretive about this all?”

“That’s the thing, he says he’s sure (y/n) would shut him down if they knew it was him.”

“Wow, so what, he’s trying to make them fall for him again?”

Jisung chuckles at his own theory, the mere idea sounding ridiculous in his head but his smile fades slightly when Felix doesn’t answer.

“That’s the thing, I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what he’s trying to do…”

Jisung can’t say anything, quite literally, he’s been rendered speechless by this bit of information. Although, the sappy part of him agrees that it was slightly romantic, sans the part where Felix was adamant on sticking to his ‘ex stalking their ex’ theory, but really, if you ignored all those pessimistic vibes, you would have yourself a sweet little reconciliation story.

“You know what,” he says after a while, his words slow and calculative “I don’t think (y/n) is completely over him either.”

Raising a brow in question, Felix urges him to go on.

“It’s just the way this entire thing played out, you know? I know for a fact that (y/n) believed him when he…uh…confessed, and I think they would have given him a chance. Minho hyung was so adamant too…”

The pair falls silent, staring vacantly at their books, both undoubtedly lost in a stream of their shared conscience that had been prodded when the subject in question had been brought up. Felix is the first to speak after having stared at the words on his page that blurred around the edges, seemingly floating on the white void.

“You think we should have stopped him?”

Jisung glances up briefly, their eyes meeting and a pang of regret hits him square in the chest.

“I think so. Do you think we should stop him now?”

Felix shakes his head in denial, “It’s already done and he’s too stubborn. I just hope none of them have to get hurt more than they already have.”

Jisung twiddles his thumb around his pen, tapping his foot under the table when he spots you making your way over, a bunch of books in your hands and the strap of your bag barely keeping up on your shoulder. You try to dump all your belongings as quietly as you can, but he can clearly hear your panting as if you had run all the way to the library.

“Hey guys, Hyunjin was trying to get me to volunteer for the Sweet Treats ughh, I don’t think I’ve ever run this fast in my life.”

You huff away a strand of loose hair that falls across your eye, slumping in your seat with a laborious breath and greet the two boys.

“Sweet Treats huh? Hwang is what, the running president for the third year in a row now?” Jisung scoffs, squeezing the nib of his pen absentmindedly on the table, leaving an ink stain in its wake.

You exchange a knowing glance with Felix; it was no secret that Jisung had harboured a major crush on Hyunjin since the first day they had met. There was nothing to hide about it, but Hyunjin himself was obliviously unaware of the blatant flirting and stuttering compliments. It was amusing to see Jisung lose his cool over his nonchalance, it was like watching someone be furious at someone because they were too cute – which was exactly what it was.

It was typical of Hyunjin to try and recruit volunteers for fests, especially during valentine’s week and being the president of the cultural club gave him the liberty of persuading students with free coffee and extra curricular credits, and he didn’t mind the flirting.

Jisung hated volunteering because he was always stuck with decorating the gym or carrying heavy boxes, but he could never say no to Hyunjin’s incessant whining and puppy eyes.

“How about you ask him out? Like you do when you like someone…like a normal person, rather than sulk over some guy’s pouty lips?” Felix sniggers, making you stifle a giggle.

“Oh shut up,” Jisung flushes, his ears turning redder by the second.

“Are you gonna volunteer this year?” you ask Jisung who was still trying to stop fiddling about in his seat.

“You know he can’t say no to Hyunjin,” Felix supplies from beside you, squawking when he receives a pen straight to his head, immediately apologising for the disturbance. You hide your head in your hands, trembling with laughter, catching vague whisper yellings of ‘shut up!’ and ‘what the fuck?!’.

If you thought you had escaped the clutches of Hyunjin’s request, you were mistaken and you should have known better because there was no way he would give up that easily and that is how you find the seat in front of you suddenly occupied and a very flushed and surprised Jisung sitting beside the boy, tightlipped and glaring at Felix who now looked constipated.

“Hyunjin…” you groan, smiling at him painfully. He returns the gesture with a smile that looked too victorious considering he hadn’t even made the proposal yet.

“I’m gonna ignore the fact that you ran away when you saw me if you agree to volunteer for Sweet Treats,” he starts, brushing his long hair back with his fingers; you had a very accurate suspicion behind his intentions, but one look at his smug grin made you bite back your words. Instead, you shrug.

“I don’t care Hyunjin, but I don’t think I can spend weeks cutting out heart shaped streamers and filling heart shaped balloons with heart shaped confettis and leave heart shaped invitations all around the campus,” at this point you wanted to barf at the sheer amount of times you had said the words ‘heart’ aloud, cringing at the very thought of al those things you just stated.

“Come on (y/n),” Hyunjin whines like the child he is, leaning forward and holding your hand in a vice-like grip before shaking you back and forth, “It’s free coffee and credits, you love both of those!”

“I like both,” Jisung coughs in the back, momentarily catching Hyunjin’s attention who engages with the boy. You think you’re saved and are about to thank Jisung who was already agreeing to everything Hyunjin had to say, nodding along indulgently, but alas, you are fated to have a heart-y valentine’s week after all.

“So (y/n), how about we make a deal–”

“Hyunjin, no–”

“No heart filled work for you if you help with the new booth this year,” Hyunjin wiggles his eyebrows at you alluringly, tempting you to urge him but you don’t, so he continues after a dramatic pause of breath, “we’re going to do a radio show!”

“A radio show? How does that even work?” Felix leans forward earnestly, his attention finally piqued.

“We’re rolling out a portal where people can send in their confessions anonymously, or not, a week before the 14th and all you have to do is read them out through the day of the festival. It would be like little announcements, very romantic.”

“You want me to read out confessions?”

“Yes, Seungmin’s gonna be there too!”

“We never did this before, so why now?”

“Well, we’re trying out new stuff and a lot of people seemed to have something of this sort from last year’s suggestion feedback, so we decided why not.”

You considered his proposition, crossing your arms across his chest with your eyes narrowed at him, trying to decipher what the catch was.

“I won’t have to make heart shaped decorations then?”

“Nope,”

“And you won’t have me fill up balloons with a shit ton of pink and red confetti either?”

“I give you my word, I won’t.” Hyunjin solemnly puts a hand on his chest and shakes his head.

“All I have to do is read out confessions?”

Hyunjin hums in agreement, adding, “You can divide them with Seungmin if there’s too many or you can figure it out yourself. 3racha also agreed to have the PA systems working and DJ.”

“Hold on,” Jisung intervenes swiftly, “I’m a part of 3racha, why was I not aware of this?”

“Oh no, you sir,” Hyunjin ruffles his hair with a smile, “are helping me out in the photography booth.”

Jisung can only splutter, you’re not sure whether it was because Hyunjin had just ruffled his hair or basically claimed a stake on him, but you had a feeling it was both.

“What’s it going to be (y/n), are you in?”

Reading out confessions…how bad could that possibly be? At the most you were either going to coo at the adorable love letters or cringe till your fingers were physically unable to unclench from a fist. But you supposed it was better than having to be covered in glitter and glue and craft paper.

“Alright, but you better keep your word Hwang,” you concede with some hesitance, unsure of how exactly you were supposed to feel about this.

Hyunin smiles at you gratefully and before leaving ropes in a chortling Felix who was having fun at the expense of Jisung being a flustered mess, into helping at the baking booth.

You sigh in defeat; maybe it would be better to not have any expectations at all.

five.

There was still more than a week before the anonymous confession portal was going to be put out, and even though you tried not to let the visible ‘lovesickness’ in the air get to you, it was proving to be difficult when you were yourself a frequent receiver of chocolate boxes and flowers and even drinks and muffins that were already paid for!

It certainly wasn’t helping that the notes were always printed and there was quite literally no trace of the sender, and that was what had brought you here right now, in this predicament.

“Who do you think it could be?” you ask, peering at the floral patterns on the ivory coloured box that had chocolates inside, hoping that if you stared hard enough, it would reveal it’s deepest and darkest secrets.

Felix shrugs nonchalantly, typing away furiously on his phone, barely paying any attention to the object of your interest that was slowly starting to give you a headache. It was one thing to have a secret admirer, but it was another to receive gifts from them that were uncannily to your taste and liking.

The first time, you had let it slide as a coincidence on finding out the chocolates were salted caramel flavoured – your favourite, but the second and third time were hard to pass as believable.

Even today, you found yourself being handed a warm cup of vanilla latte, just the way you liked it, the barista informing you with a knowing smile that it had already been paid for. You flushed when she giggled and winked at you, leaving you to hastily make your way to where Felix was waving at you from, scooting as far away as you could till you were basically pressed up against the wall, your head in hands as you groaned in embarrassment. Felix was having the time of his life, clicking pictures of you and the warm cup of coffee and the box of chocolates you had tossed on the table with a grunt, undoubtedly saving them for blackmail later on.

Now as you regard the box of chocolates in front of you, you force your mind to come to a blank because the only person you can think of is Minho, and it was driving you crazy. All your stupid little braincells could do was chant in his name in tiny font, growing louder by the second, even though you wouldn’t associate him with something like this – giving presents for the entirety of valentine’s was just not his thing, he would rather you both skipped the crowded cafes with lovesick couples. This was so not him, and yet…yet! Your stupid little mind could do nothing but think of him!

“Maybe they’ll confess on valentine’s day?” Felix, finally putting his phone aside, supplies helpfully.

“I would rather they didn’t,” you scowl, nonetheless opening the box and eating one of the chocolates. They were good, damn it.

Cocking a brow at you in amusement, he reaches for one too, suppressing a moan at how good these were; damn, Minho was getting better at this.

“I just…I don’t think I want any part in any of this, especially now when…”

Felix doesn’t have to prod at you to know why you left your words hanging in the air, but he couldn’t help but feel slightly panicked at the prospect. If you were already showing resistance to the very notion of what could perhaps be a simple crush, how would you react if you found out it was Minho?

“Lix, they gave me blueberry muffins yesterday for breakfast, it’s as if they knew I didn’t have time for breakfast on Wednesdays and ordered me some! It’s honestly a bit creepy, how do they know so much about me or is this all a coincidence?”

Okay, maybe Minho was not the best at being subtle and he made a point to tell him that later.

“It’s a bit overwhelming, what if they think I’m leading them on? But the thing is, I don’t even know who it is, and for some reason I keep thinking that it’s Minho but–”

You stop in your words abruptly, turning your wide eyes towards Felix who had the small beginnings of a smug grin creeping up his lips.

“That’s not what I meant,” you hastily explain, scrambling up from your seat.

“I believe you,”

“Don’t sound so patronising!”

“What if it is Minho though?”

“It’s not him, I know him and he wouldn’t do something like this.”

You’re stubborn in your opinion, perhaps a bit more stronger off the front than you would be because of the previous slip up, but now that you say it out aloud, you realise how ridiculous it sounds for Minho to plant gifts in your locker and order you breakfast on Wednesdays. Or was it?

It was. It was, it was, it was!! Maybe if you said it enough times like a mantra, it would be true. Maybe it was true and you didn’t need to worry about it, but why would you worry all the same? You didn’t want it to be him; you wouldn’t be disappointed if it weren’t him.

The only adversity in this whole ordeal is that it’s got you thinking about him again.

Though you had managed to stay away from the endless possibilities of this mystery admirer, your mind kept drifting to one particular guy, his sharp nose and soft lips like a permanent engraving in your thoughts and the 15% special discount on products for valentine's week where you worked didn’t help console you.

Scanning an enormous box of pepero sticks, you force yourself to smile at the girl who had purchased it, still in high school with the slightest blush tinting her cheeks, no doubt thinking of the person she had bought it for.

“Would that be all?” you smile, handing her the packet.

She shakes her head, bowing thankfully before leaving the store.

It was getting late, your shift only an hour away from ending. The sky outside was softening it’s hue to a darker blue, the onset of spring preventing nightfall from setting in early. Glancing around the store, you figure you would restock the chocolates section, since it was running low after the immeasurable amount of purchases in the last hour itself.

Abandoning your post from the counter, you retrieve the stock in a basket from the pantry, moving along the aisles, careful not to knock down anything else. In the middle of reaching the last aisle where the shelf was, the front door opens, a fainter tinkling resounding to the back and you yell out a hasty “be right there!’ before dumping the box on the ground and heaving out a sigh of relief.

“Hi, sorry, how can I–”

Well wasn’t this a surprise.

“How can I help you?” there it was, the uncanny rigidity in your voice at the sight of Minho. Your eyes stray down, the white and black patterns on his pants painfully familiar, but it brings a smile to your lips.

As if aware of your observation, Minho shuffles timidly on his spot, internally banging his head on a wall in embarrassment. Why, of all days, did he have to saunter into the convenience store wearing the cat pyjamas you had gifted him on Christmas!

Moving on instinct, Minho joins you in the back of the store, rummaging around the instant ramen section and picking up a few bags of crisps while you restocked the chocolates, patiently waiting for you at the counter. You don’t make him wait too long, skipping across the basket and hurrying to check him out.

“Will that be all?” you ask, handing him his stuff and gulping when your fingers brush.

He nods before placing the roll of kimbap on the desk and sliding it across you. You sigh.

“Let me guess, this is for me?”

“Don’t skip–”

“–your meals, yes I know and I haven’t been skipping them; you don’t have to do this you know.”

Your words came out harsher than intended, although you had not been purposeful about it, but the brief flash of hurt in Minho’s eyes resounds through your chest with a loud gong, the bottomless pit in your stomach opening up and you feel yourself free falling in the darkness. When did you become this mean?

“Right, of course. I’m sorry if I came off too overburdening,” Minho starts in a soft voice, his eyes never leaving the spot on the counter, too vulnerable to meet yours as his fingers dig into the plastic in his hands, the crinkling sound of it barely of any comfort. You think you can hear yourself breaking his heart, and even though that was what you had intended since the beginning, seeing him hurt made you feel ashamed to have been the reason for it.

“That’s not what I meant…” it’s not even an apology, but it was a weak attempt at one.

Minho says nothing, smiling at you before turning away and leaving through the door.

The door shuts behind him, the bell tinkling briefly before the sound fades away and you’re left alone in the store with your thoughts, staring at the roll of kimbap and wondering whether this had been worth it.

six.

Minho finds himself bumping into you more often than not these days.

The added cheerfulness of the people around him buzzing about the valentine’s festivities, if he dared to call it that, rubbed him all the wrong ways as he felt his resolve grow smaller day by day when he saw you in the halls or the library or laughing along with someone.

Not much has changed; you still avoid him but you don't necessarily ignore his presence in a room. You falter in your steps, blinking away when you catch his eyes, but you don’t ignore his smile across the room, acknowledging it with an awkward nod of head. It’s weird, to have to tread cautiously, but it’s Minho – the extent of your apology would only go so far as long as you had one feet dipped in a civil apology that functioned as a way to carry the load of guilt and the other feet in the conscious reminder that this was Minho – your ex and someone you could not be comfortable around yet.

Minho didn’t try to offer you any more food on his occasional trips to the convenience store which seemed to have increased to one visit per day, but you didn’t chide him for leaving a bottle of flavoured milk or a chocolate bar behind.

You both were toeing around this invisible line that you convinced yourself to consider a huge barrier, which would have been easy to blur had it not been for the constant, painful reminders of all the couples around you walking hand in hand or kissing in the hallways. It’s like someone had suddenly injected a huge amount of pheromones in the air and everybody except you was drenched in it.

Moreover, you were additionally drenched in an immeasurable number of anonymous confessions, ranging from ridiculously cheesy pickup lines to a “my honeybun <3” and to much tsundere versions of a typical bad-boy vibe you couldn’t help but grimace at; at least they tried, so A for the efforts.

As the days passed by, you kept dreading having to read some of these aloud, unsure of whether you would be able to keep the grimace out of your voice and Seungmin seemed to share the sentiment. Although, a part of you did admit this to being romantic, you didn’t stop yourself from joining Seungmin when he threw dirty glances across the table at Hyunjin, who, the hopeless romantic that he was, seemed to be cooing at almost all the letters you had received.

“Stop giving me the stink eye, you’re just jealous you don’t have a date for valentine’s,” Hyunjin never held back on his smugness when teasing Seungmin, his urge fuelled by the disgust on the latter’s face.

“I don’t think I need any more of that in my life after going through this hell,” Seungmin points accusingly at his screen where he was scrolling through the inbox full of anonymous messages.

The three of you sat in the computer lab, going through all the mail you had received and checking to make sure they were all appropriate to be read out loud on the day of, a precaution Hyunjin had insisted upon and you had found common logic in, although nothing so far had been of that nature, except the over the top cheesiness that you had tortured yourself with through the two hours you had spent. At this point you would willingly bang your head on the wall in hopes of at least having a concussion and passing out.

You are given a respite from your miseries when the door to the room opens, Minho trailing in with his bag on his shoulder and looking straight in your direction. Some respite.

Hyunjin waves him over with a smile while you slump in your seat, listening in to their conversation but not taking part in it.

“Is that the anonymous mailbox?” Minho asks, suddenly leaning forward and peering at your screen. Startled by the sudden proximity, you wheel your chair away slightly, but his hand comes to rest at the back and now you’re trapped between his frame and the desk.

You steal a furtive glance at his face, the tip of his nose illuminated by the screen light and glowing, his eyes blinking slowly while Hyunjin rambles in the background. Averting your gaze, you find Seungmin already looking at you two, smugly leaning back in his chair and hiding a smile. You shoot him a glare.

Minho glances at you carefully, smiling at the way your eyes flicker between him and the computer before finally settling away from him. He doesn’t hear much of what Hyunjin says, painfully aware of the distance between you two and the invisible barrier you had put up that he had yet to cross over.

He was trying, really. He kept looking for a door he could knock at, a loose link or a crack in the bottom, but the more he searched the longer the wall extended, going on and on for as far as his eyes could make out. Minho was starting to convince himself that he had lost the chance he had once had, and that he would never find that door you had willingly left wide open for him.

The sudden realisation dampened his mood, the proximity getting harder to bear when he knew he could reach out and touch your face and tuck your hair and kiss you. How had he taken it all for granted back then? When he could have easily sneaked up behind you and hugged you tight, when he could have kissed you for days on end but he whined when you did, when he could have let himself be vulnerable to his feelings; time had run out for him, leaving him feeling empty and uncertain of what the future held and the moss and dirt covering the deep dark pit in his chest start to rumble and fall apart.

His bag weighs him down, the box of chocolates inside becoming heavier by the second and the churning pit in his stomach gurgling in anxiety and precariousness. He doesn’t hope to find a door now, but he does hope that the apology he leaves by the wall is gone the next time he comes. That you would consider, but he knows not to push his boundaries and he had anticipated as much that he would no longer have the free pass to a mistake he could kiss away or buy his way out with coffee.

And although it hurts, he does not regret the time he spends on it. It was always meant to be for you. He does not expect you to forgive him all at once. So he keeps looking. Until the choice is an actual decision to open the door or turn around and look for a path that will take him somewhere else.

In fact, making you chocolates and buying you breakfast did not guarantee that either, nor was he trying to weasel his way in that way, but it was a step he took because he was desperate to even prove to himself that he cared after all. Of course he cared, he can’t believe he thought otherwise.

Seemingly done examining whatever was on your screen, Minho retracts his face away but remains standing with his hand on your chair while conversing with Hyunjin. You catch the faint whiff of a sweet scent, a familiar trace of vanilla you vaguely remember having a faint recollection of, but you can’t quite place it in your memory.

Minho doesn’t stay long, only there in the first place to collect his printouts. His hand brushes against your hair gently when he leaves; you're still mulling over the sugary sweet scent, your fragmented mind unable to quite let go of it.

seven.

“Look, if you’re worried about Minho, he’s not going to be at home.” Felix assures you on the other end of the line.

“Doesn’t he only have afternoon classes today?” you counter.

The pause is enough to make your face flush, and you’re thankful the boy himself is not here to tease you about it.

“I’m going to pretend you don’t remember his schedule–”

“It was a habit, I don’t–”

“My point is, you won’t run into him so can you please, please, please do me this favour?”

You sigh and groan, slumping further down your bed if that were physically possible, your pyjama clad legs sprawled lazily across the mattress and your phone squished in between your cheek and the pillow. Felix was really making you get off your bed on your one day off of class just to run an errand that would ultimately have you go to campus. Damn him.

“It’s not him, I just don’t wanna get up,” you groaned, and it was true. You didn’t care if you bumped into Minho or not, you were far too relaxed in the comfort of your bed that even the thought of getting up exhausted you, “besides, ask Minho, he’s your roommate.”

“If only he picked up my calls! I bet you anything he’s fast asleep and can’t hear his phone ringing over his snores,”

“Minho snores?” you’re mildly curious at this new piece of information, but try not to show too much interest in it.

“Not the point ughh are you listening to me?! My prof’s gonna kill me if I don’t hand in my assignment today and it counts for twenty percent of my entire grades, I need your help!”

You were already out of bed the moment he had started his spiel once again, you knew he would just repeat what he had said all over so you put the phone on speaker and grumpily tugged on a pair of jeans, tossing the tom and jerry pyjamas with a hole in the bottom on your unmade bed and waddled to your sock drawer.

“–I promise I will buy you coffee the entire week, I swear I will but if I fail this assignment then I’m going to make sure it weighs on your conscience forever that you could have helped a friend in need but you didn’t and then he failed his class and had to repeat an entire year and probably went into depression because god forbid I was idiot signing up for advanced calculus and economics in the same semester but regardless, you failed me as a friend and–”

“Felix, if you don’t stop, I’m going to throw you down the stairs when I come over.”

“You’re coming over?!”

“Yes,” you sigh grumpily, out of your door by this time and hobbling on foot as you try to put your shoe on, balancing your phone between your cheek and shoulder.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

“Only when you need something from me,”

“Chivalry is not dead.”

“Shut up.”

Felix doesn’t live that far away from you. It’s a fifteen minute walk from your dorm to his, twenty five if you stop in the way to pet a cat or dog, and there’s always a cat or dog, which is a sort of harsh yet not quite, reminder of memories attached to the long walks made bearable with the presence of a certain someone, which is funny because you just realised that now all of that is put in a box labelled ‘memories’ and that is certainly weird given your unfamiliarity to the sentiment and any suspicions of the same back when they weren’t memories.

You resist the innumerable sighs just tingling at the back of your throat; it’s too early for this.

It’s only when you’ve entered Felix’s apartment with the spare key in the teapot plant that you realise what you’ve walked into – a kitchen that looks like it’s gone through the seven layers of hell with an array of baking equipment scattered all over the counter. The boy himself had an apron on with splatters of batter specking the fabric. He doesn’t notice you, and he's definitely not expecting you.

“Why did you call so many– (y/n)?!”

“Uhh…hi?”

You roam your eyes at his condition, taking in his bewildered face and failing to hide your own surprise at seeing him bake for the first time.

“Felix sent me to get his project…it’s in his room, so I’ll just…” with an awkward gait you try crossing the distance across the kitchen and Felix’s room, ignoring the way Minho was now cowering. You want to laugh because you’ve never caught him so off guard and this would be an otherwise hilarious situation had you not been shocked by the domesticity of seeing him with a whisk, the scent of chocolate wafting through the air like a warm hug.

The minute you’re out of sight, Minho scrambles to his room, digging around for a decent shirt to put on, grimacing and mentally slapping himself when he looks into the mirror and sights the batter stained clothes. Why were you always catching him in his worst state these days?!

The blue folder Felix had told you about was on his desk, laying amongst a pile of clutter that ranged from rolled up balls of napkins and coffee stained sheets of rough papers. Grimacing at the mess, you pull the file out from under the pile of trash but it manages to knock over the precariously balanced advanced calculus books on his desk which fall to the ground before you can manage to save them.

With a resigned sigh, you bend to pick them up, stacking them in a smaller stack this time when your phone lights up, the caller ID you had expected to pop up but nonetheless making you roll your eyes. You pick up reluctantly.

“Did you get it, are you there yet?” the panicked baritone from the other end is slightly drowned by the chattering in the background.

“I just got it, I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” you reply, picking up the final book and making your way out of the room with brisk steps.

“Fifteen?!” Felix shrieks into your ear making you flinch, “my class starts in five minutes, you have to get there by then!”

“Just wait out in the hallway, surely your prof’s not gonna kill you for being ten minutes late.”

“No, probably not but I’ll have to do that walk of shame ten minutes into the class and sit in the front seat…can’t you just run?”

“Felix I’m not running,” you retort sternly.

“I can drive you,” the new voice makes you turn around, Minho standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, eyes expectantly boring into yours.

“Is that Minho hyung? Great, he can drive you, I’ll see you in five minutes!”

“No, Felix–”

The beeping sound indicates that he had already hung up and you are resigned to hesitantly lower your phone from your ear and regard Minho cautiously as if you were gauging his intentions.

“It won’t take long if I just drive and Felix will probably chew your head off if we keep him waiting for too long, so let’s go,” Minho is already running a hand through his hair which is still very dishevelled while snatching his car keys from.

Quite literally, you find yourself being ushered out and into his car that you had been so accustomed to a few months ago, seemingly having no say in the matter that had been decided upon by the two roommates. You’re still in denial of the whole nostalgic sentiments resurfacing when you’re so much so close to an old habit like now, finding yourself sitting in his car as he drives you to campus. It still smells like lemon fresheners and the seats are still covered in cat hair that sticks to your jeans. You can almost hear the reminiscents of the shared laughter and kisses that had accompanied the long night drives and the coffee stain on the back seat that had remained engraved on the fabric from nights ago.

And like so many other times, your hand itches to just reach out and smoothen his tousled hair and tuck the label of his shirt under the collar and pull him in for a chaste kiss. The scent of chocolate that lingers on his clothes is overpowering, the sweetness making your throat dry up and chest constrict.

It’s suffocating, to say the least, and while it certainly weighs your chest down and numbs your mind like it so often does when it comes to rifling through these shared memories of Minho, you’re vividly aware of the said man gripping his steering wheel a little too hard. Perhaps the opportunity of doing you a favour had clouded his judgement of exactly how nervous it made him to be around you too long.

The ride is uncharacteristically silent; you grip on to the folder now in your arms like a shield in front of your chest, there to protect you from whatever it was lurking in the silence to pounce at you at any given chance and Minho bit his lips till he could taste a faint metallic tang on his tongue, swallowing the saltiness of a confrontation he was always cautious of but never knew when to expect.

And if you spend the entire day surfing through the countless websites offering advice on how to be entirely over an ex, no one had to be any wiser of it.

eight.

It’s seven days to Valentine's day, which means seven days of absolute misery for Minho and when Minho is miserable, he coops himself up in the dance studio.

As the days go by, he’s feeling less and less convinced of himself, and he fears his resolve will ultimately be reduced to a wisp of smoke in thin air, dissolving into nothingness.

For starters, he’s finding it difficult to believe that of all the goddamned people on this planet, he’s waiting to confess to you on valentine’s day, a day he had always felt bitter about to some extent. But then he falls into this vicious cycle of losing his mind over the fact that he’s going to confess to you in the first place, eventually finding himself zoning out of his daily activities as he has another mental breakdown over how exactly he was supposed to do that. How does one confess after all?

He assumes it might have been easier had you both not have already broken up and you didn't hate him – here Felix strongly interjects, stating that you, in fact, didn’t hate him, but who was to know – and how silly this all was, but he loved you.

And as he slowly let this piece of information settle, it only stirred up a gust of agitated feelings like dust in a sunny patch. He noticed how his chest squeezed at your sight, like it was trying to force it all out of his ribs, how the slightest discrepancy between his fair judgement and his elevated heart rate were always inclining towards the latter.

There is not a single seed of doubt as to what he feels about you or for you, but somewhere sitting calmly in the pile of emotions he had collected over the months, was a misplaced sense of overwhelming agitation he couldn’t help but creep up like a parasite. Leaving you boxes of chocolates on your desk and ordering you coffee felt like an immature and childish redemptive gesture, which was only reduced to a cowering dog in front of a beast when that parasite wiggled around, reaching out with its arms to move and expand.

But he missed you and he kept telling himself that.

Neither of you had ever tread into that territory however, the one where words were exchanged with a meaningful implication, it was just there. A sense of belongingness and happiness when he was with you, but also the chain of guilt and confusion weighing him down till he could no longer take it and burst out.

The fight was huge, the confrontation had been a source of getting all the heaviness on his chest to slowly be lifted, till he realised that there are some things which are only clear when you say them out loud and even though sometimes they are better left unsaid, the hurting only lasts so long before relief settles in.

Minho thinks, had he not said anything back then, none of this would have been so messed up. If he had just kept quiet and slowly immersed himself in this new feeling, or better still talked it out without such blunt implications, time would have helped him; but then he would also have been partially lying to himself and to you.

There wasn’t another person, heck he didn’t even fall out of endearment, it just took him some time to come to the conclusion that his feelings had been there all along but when he opened his mouth, all he had implied was that he had not been in love with you, in fact, this might have all been a ruse in the first place – it was understandable that you believed he had no feelings for you in the first place.

A load of miscommunication and the insinuation of his words had hurt him, but probably not more than it affected you. You had put a whole year into this relationship, given it your all, liked him even before you started dating, all to be left high and dry with a ‘I need some time’. He sounded like an asshole even to himself.

He had put you on the front line of his own internal dilemma, used you as an excuse to come to terms with his feelings and taken you for granted. Put in a bit of fucking around and he would be no less than a fuckboy. In fact, he didn’t deem himself worthy of your attention nor respect anymore.

While his anxiety built up, it’s basis feeding off the numerous insecurities that drowned him in it’s waves, his detachment from you grew larger and larger like a seam slowly but surely tearing apart at the edges and when finally undone, the uncertainty of where you would be in the future, whether you would be together or not, whether what he was feeling and doing for you was enough or bordering on sufficient to keep this relationship afloat. The little seed of doubt and indecisiveness had already sprouted up and begun growing like a parasite and while he never entirely got rid of it, it was starting to stir again in the pits of his stomach now.

He was now set out to face the remains of his destruction, rebuilding what he had hammered down and wrecked.

“Hyung,” a voice calls out, making him look up from the ground where he sat panting after the exertion of his dancing and thoughts.

“What are you still doing here? We’ve got class in a few…” Felix makes his way over to the sweaty boy, handing him a towel from the bench and passing one of the plastic bottles always in stock for the students, uncapping the lid to ensure the elder drank it.

“Do you think I should stop?”

“Stop what?” The confusion in Felix’s voice was clear at the abruptness of the question.

A heavy sigh fell off Minho’s lips, eyes staring blankly ahead at the mirror where he gazed at himself tiredly.

“Trying to make things right, I mean. I feel like I keep messing up… I did last time, when I thought that I was doing the right thing but it ended up being, probably the worst decision I’ve made, and talking out didn’t help. I’m not sure it’ll help this time either.”

The defeated slump of Minho’s shoulders is accentuated by the light from the half open windows, the afternoon sunlight sliding down the curve of his back and falling in a pool around him like a beacon of light, jeering at his pathetic state. His miserable foreboding was not allowing him to break out of his little cocoon of insecurities and the ultimate fear of losing you and the universe seemed to be playing its part in dramatising it with its elements.

Minho is unsure of his own actions at this point, his intentions in a muled pool of whether he was trying to reduce his guilt and doing this for his own sake or whether he wanted this for more than selfish reasons.

“Do you love them hyung?”

The question is like a sharp arrow shooting past his face, the wind whittling and ruffling his hair like a shot of breath; it almost leaves Minho breathless but alleviated from the dull slump he was in.

Felix looked on expectantly, but Minho was at a loss for words, staring back back at him with eyes that seemed hopeful of an answer from the inquirer himself. It’s like waiting patiently for someone to answer their own question if you stay silent long enough, and Minho wouldn’t mind favouring an answer that was spoon fed to him in tiny little bite sized chunks, easy to digest but what was even more convenient was that he wouldn’t have to do anything himself except chew and swallow.

He only wished that it were that easy, except of course it wasn’t and no one could feed him an answer to that. He hated Felix, for asking him something so intimate and for the further turmoil it caused him but more so because he had asked him something that deep within he knew the answer to, but as it had been the root of all causes he had stirred up, he was afraid to voice out loud, and he knew that ultimately he would have to confront that thought.

“You know what I think hyung?” Felix maintains his level tone, choosing his words carefully but never pausing in his thoughts, quite obviously unsurprised at the lack of an answer, “I think you know what you are doing and what you should be doing and also the answer to my question. You’re just too afraid to face your feelings and you think letting the guilt eat you up would make (y/n) feel better; that it would make you feel better even if just marginally. What you don’t realise is how much this is hurting you both, to see each other moping around and so upset at the other’s state.”

Minho is surprised at the words coming out of the younger’s mouth, his unexpected third person perspective a source he had not expected he would have an insight to, but all the same finding it hard to believe that you would have any mutual feeling about the same.

“I think,” Felix pauses, regarding the ground and the patches of sunlight on it with great interest, “it's time you stopped hiding behind your excuses and talked to them.”

Felix leaves after his final words, oddly feeling like he had done something monumental, leaving a befuddled Minho sitting on the floor.

There was the subtle churning in his stomach again, like he had just been told to suck up his fear of heights and jump, except this time he was almost entirely certain he wouldn’t mind the drop.

nine.

Hyunjin and Jisung were being disgusting, but they looked cute all cuddled up on your couch with their eyes barely open, scrolling through the numerous confessions you had received in the span of three more days.

You hide a smile when Jisung nuzzles his head in Hyunjin’s chest, the latter whining at having to change his position, pulling the shorter boy closer so now they were practically lying on top of each other.

“This was a bad idea,” Hyunjin says, sighing as he carefully places the laptop on your coffee table, kicking his feet out and quite literally straddling Jisung in his arms. Jisung seemed to be too tired to protest or splutter nervously at the open show of affection, readily giving in to this soft moment, yet not meeting your eyes because he could feel your teasing smile all the way across the couch.

“I don’t know why we didn’t put a limit to this, it’s like all I’ve been doing is reading confessions and they all look the same! Why didn’t you stop me (y/n)?!”

“Hey, I thought this was your idea!” you retort, chucking a cushion at him that elicits a groan from the boy, “besides, you can’t deny people’s confessions, it’s not like they’re for you.”

Hyunjin looks up when you snicker at him, “Was that a challenge? You think I haven’t had people confess to me this year?”

“Have you?” Jisung’s attention is momentarily piqued; you manage to pass the chortle you couldn’t suppress as a cough.

Hyunjin manages to soothe the boy back on his chest, patting his hair and shushing him to rest his eyes after all the squinting at the bright screens. You could almost see the hearts oozing out of his eyes as he stared at the boy on his chest now softly snoring.

“You guys are gross by the way, all this pining is making my head hurt,” you state out, expecting Hyunjin to deny your accusation but it doesn’t come.

“I’m planning on confessing,” he simply says, his voice low and eyes droopy, fingers carding through Jisung’s hair who now looked like even a fire alarm couldn’t wake him up from his slumber.

Momentarily forgetting about your own statement, you sit up straight so suddenly, it almost makes you crick your neck, “Wait, what?”

How could Hyunjin be so calm about this all? No less, it looked like it wasn’t such a big deal to him, like he was simply validating what you said. It just felt like the most right thing to be done, as if all the clues and hints had been there all along.

“Don’t act so surprised, I’m not entirely oblivious you know? I’ve liked him for a while now, I thought you all knew?” He turns to you expectantly, but you can only gape at him in surprise.

“I mean, yeah but! What the actual fuck?!”

“Really impressed with your immaculate vocabulary, so precise, I love it~”

“Shut up, you know what I mean!”

“Actually I don’t, this was long due.”

“Wow,”

“Again with the impeccable stock of words~”

“Stop teasing me,” you whine, unable to contain the smile that was bursting out, genuinely happy for him. Your restrained squealing is what finally makes Hyunjin flush, hiding his face with one hand but his lips mirroring your smile.

“How do you plan on doing it? You’re gonna be pretty busy at the photography booth,” you questioned, abandoning your work and grabbing a cushion in your lap, leaning into conversation indulgently; you needed the break anyway.

Hyunjin doesn’t answer immediately, his gaze flickering between the laptop and the sleeping boy.

“No way…” the sudden implication of the entire thing hits you and you’re almost on the verge of yelling out loud, but stop yourself just in time, “did you do this entire confession thing so you could confess?!”

“No…”

“Bullshit, you sly bitch!”

“Hush, you’re gonna wake him up!”

“Aha, so you do admit it!”

“I said nothing,” Hyunjin is stubborn, but you can tell from the way his cheeks turn a dusty shade of pink and he squirms in his place, his resolve only barely being held by a thread had it not been for the Jisung who was still sound asleep, unaware of everything that was happening.

“That’s abusing your authority,” you tease, crossing your arms over your chest, but you were honestly dying to hold this as leverage over him.

“Is not! It was a legit suggestion and the planning committee all had a say in this matter!”

“Yeah, the planning committee that you head, therefore making you the final decision maker and of course you play it to your favour!”

Hyunjin groans, his will to fight you over this subdued when Jisung stirs in his sleep and he holds a breath in fear of having been heard but nope, the boy just mumbles something in his sleep and goes back to snoring.

“Hyunjin, you’re simping, stop looking at him with so much love,” you gag, your only aim in your life seemingly becoming an unstoppable drive to tease the living daylights out of your friend.

“What about you, I heard you’ve got yourself an admirer,” Hyunjin quickly defends his stance.

“Don’t change the subject, you can’t fight this.”

“What about Minho, does he know?”

Although Seungmin has been dubbed as the one who’s brutally confrontational. You think Hyunjin has an equal hold of that title in your group with his unwittingly innocent setups that make you fall in your own traps and the stupid victorious glint in his eyes after succeeding in doing so.

“Rude, you don’t have to rub my failed love life in my face, loverboy,” you pout, trying to hide the sudden pain that had spiked in your chest at the mention of the name that had recently been making turns in your head. The very image of the unexpected domesticity of Minho in the kitchen baking had strung your heart with a sharp twang of longingness.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Hyunjin sighs, repositioning himself on your couch as you’re the one left squirming in your seat now.

You know what Hyunjin means, but you would rather not talk about it. In fact, you definitely didn’t want to talk about anytime soon, when all you’ve been doing for the past few days is reading endless confessions and sappy love stories and imagining what it would have been like to be on the receiving end of one of these letters. You’ve tried, on many occasions, to discern the writing patterns and trying to figure out whether one of these could have been sent in by Minho, but of course that’s silly and he would never do something like that but you hope – you so desperately hope for something.

Hyunjin sees the look of turmoil plastered all over your face, your sad eyes and downturned lips.

“(y/n), can you say that you’re entirely over him?”

The words are quiet, but a dissonance in the near silence of the room that is broken by soft snores. You don’t trust yourself to look him in the eye and lie, because you find that you can’t tell him the truth either. The lie you’ve been feeding yourself for months now is like a fraying rope of twines coming undone the more you tug at it; Hyunjin had so easily managed to break your lie open with a few words, you wonder whether he was right after all; whether your heart had been into building this lie and keeping it intact after all.

Because it's hard to pretend not to notice Minho looking out for you and it’s much harder to ignore the burn in your chest when he smiles even though you’re mean to him. It’s kept you awake for nights, months after everything was over – months after you should have been over it all, to have forgotten and forgiven and moved on without ever looking back – but you always find yourself thinking about him; always looking back and finding his face in the crowd without searching for it, finding his little smile and tucking it carefully in a corner of your heart.

And when you’re alone, without his constant assuring presence, you lie to yourself and convince yourself that the stolen smile tickling that corner of your heart was never meant for you to keep in the first place. You lie a little more when you tell yourself that you don't care anymore.

Hyunjin is so skillfully there to bring your lies to the forefront just like how he was there to accompany you in your ice cream marathon, with a bag full of snacks and two whole boxes of tissue with a sufficient supply of some old and sappy rom-coms when you had first cried your heart out after the breakup. When you had bawled about not being good enough to be loved, but most utterly, entirely broken about it all being a lie.

So he knows what it is you’ve been feeling this entire time, maybe not calling you out on it, but definitely there to remind you that there were still so many chances of putting this right, because believe it or not, even your lies have been lying to you.

ten.

Three days to Valentine’s and you felt like the universe was playing it’s most cruel game with you, but it was also making sure that you were still in the game, no matter how weak willed or how close to the edge of giving up you were.

Keeping up with your part time job and the planning for the big valentine’s day celebration, which you had inevitably been more than engaged in given the need for extra hand, had you sitting beside Minho now, shoulders touching and peering at the poster design Hyunjin had changed his mind about in the last minute.

In fact, Hyunjin had changed his mind about a lot of things, which included making a new banner for the Sweet Treats and therefore having to come up with a new ensign for the posters, because he wanted it to complement each other. It was either you stuck having to cut out large hearts out of glittery foam for the new banner – which you had already been given word weeks ago you wouldn’t be required to, but when have men ever kept their word? – or it was brainstorming over the poster design.

And that’s how you found yourself sitting in the very corner of the computer lab, squeezed in between the wall and Minho, the only seat you had managed to grab because all the other computers were taken, working in a forced mental quietude with the rhythmic drone of the students in the background.

The obligatory drumming of your thoughts came as a result from half an hour ago, when Minho had been forced to scoot over to your side by a group of unruly seniors who were having a loud discussion about topics your brain could not comprehend. But that was okay, because it was nothing compared to the fact that Hyunjin had absolutely forgotten to mention the ‘someone’ who was going to help you out was Minho. But even that was fine, because quite frankly, your mind is too buzzed to process anything, let alone supply valuable help to the boy beside you, who was actually doing the work, while you sat there, hyperventilating about your shoulders touching.

You’ve not been in such close proximity with Minho in a while, and while it never made you nervous in a bad way when you were in a relationship, now it made your stomach flutter and take flight whenever he leaned in close to mutter something about the shade of burgundy and his breath fanned across your ear.

You feel a shiver run down your spine when he leaned forward again, this time squinting at the text before leaning back again with a frown on his face. You pressed your lips in a smile – typical Lee Minho at work; he would stare at the same thing for hours on end till he could figure out what made it look even marginally better than the original format. It was a small habit that had always been there that you hadn’t even noticed you had taken note of in the first place, only realising that it was one of the things you had always liked about him, without even realising it.

Minho had had this way of easing himself into your life, seeping his habits and lifestyle into yours so subtly and gradually, that you had never quite gotten over the shock of not waking up to it any longer. It was like a part of you had been wiped off entirely, a hand pulled out of a glove in the freezing cold. It never sat right with you and you never got used to it.

Minho steals a glance at you, finding you staring straight ahead with the look you had when you were lost in your thoughts. He’s unsure if it’s because you don’t find his incessant stubbornness to get the perfect shade of red correct or you just weren’t feeling well. Well, you did look tired, he knows you stayed up all night sorting out the anonymous confession box thing he had briefly heard about from Hyunjin, and he knew you had a shift later in the evening at the convenience store. Maybe he should just tell you to leave? But that would make it seem like he could do the entire work all by himself and didn’t value your opinions but that wasn’t the case; if anything he wanted to be able to ask you to rest your head on his shoulder and get some shut eye but! He couldn’t do that either! Curse his fate!

“Hey,” your voice breaks his agitation, “wanna go get some coffee?”

For a moment you think you’ve stunned Minho into temporary speech loss but then you replay the past five seconds in you remind and realise that you’ve just asked Minho for coffee, which you were starting to hope he would decline and you could just leave awkwardly after that–

“Sure, let’s go.”

Minho is past the stage of caring, all he knows is that you offered to get coffee with him first and he was in no position to turn you down.

Normally, a coffee run would excite you but today the five minute walk to the cafe you frequent is no less than a nervous stride of awkwardness. Your heels ache with all the pressure you put out in walking, you change the way you breath at least nine times, every time closer to a skittish cliff in the fear of being too loud. You’re really worried about breathing too loudly; now you’ve seen it all.

Minho is no better. His stupid hands keep bumping into yours and the occasional cyclist makes him scoot closer to you but he’s too timid to walk behind you or in front of you. God, what happened to when he could pull you along in a good humoured headlock and berate you for your fifth cup of the caffeinated drink in an hour; he knows it’s not your first cup of the day, he can smell it on you. And he hates it so much, the mere thought of feeling the taste on his lips when he would kiss you, now he’s really resorting to inhaling the coffee scent so familiar to you.

His hand itches to pull you back and away from this stupid walk and away from it all where you could both start over again, but he’s quick to extinguish that thought; overindulging in sweet fantasies only made him long for you more.

He lets out a breath of relief he hadn’t realised he was holding when the cafe comes into view and you both enter.

“Oh hi, it’s you. Do you want the blueberry muffins today–”

Minho’s frantic gesturing cuts the barista off, their eyes widening when they see you come up, apparently digging around your bag for your wallet and they shut up immediately. You don’t seem to have heard the near slip up though, too invested in shovelling through your bag.

Without thinking, Minho’s hand reaches up to yours, your head snapping up at him and the frown on your brows slipping away into a surprised look.

“Just order, I’ll pay.”

“You don’t have to, I just need to find my–”

“Please?” The gentle squeeze on your wrist and the soft eyes appealing to you makes it difficult to turn him down. You reluctantly agree, placing your orders and waiting to have them to go since neither of you wanted to spend too much time inside the cafe that was already adorned in red streamers, the yearly specials menu of drinks and pastries making you grimace at the chessiness with which the names had been chosen. Jesus, you’d be embarrassed to even read those out.

Minho doesn’t know how to start a conversation with you anymore, his fingers drumming nervously on the counter until your drinks are out and it was killing him to stand a few feet apart from you when all around he could see couples practically sitting on each other’s laps.

You’re both glad when you’re able to leave, Minho paying and turning a brilliant shade of red when the barista hands you a blueberry muffin wrapped in plastic with a bow on top of it, citing it to be ‘on the house’ and winking at you. He’s so busy pretending not to have anything to do with this little coincidence that he doesn’t notice you speaking. When your words register though, he wishes he hadn't heard you in the first place.

“So uhh,” you start off hesitantly, taking a small sip of your drink as Minho does the same, “I’ve got some of your stuff back in my apartment, you should come by and…take them back. Sometime, when you’re free…”

It physically pains you to speak those words out, your throat constricting and this time you make sure you’re not even trying to gauge Minho’s reaction. Had you actually looked his way, you would have noticed his clenched jaws and the flash of hurt in his eyes that he doesn’t try to mask.

“That’s what you wanted to talk to me about?”

“What?”

“The coffee, you just wanted to– you know what, never mind. I’ll drop by tomorrow to get my stuff.”

Though you had expected a reaction akin to this, the sudden coldness in his voice and his stony eyes made your heart drop. You felt guilty about bringing this up and maybe you could have tried a gentler approach, but all the same, you couldn’t put this off any longer either.

Without another word, Minho stalks off with the bitter taste of his drink infusing in his tongue like a harsh slap of reality, leaving you staring at his back forlornly as it grew smaller with every step he took.

eleven.

You opened the door in a loose sweater, the sleeves engulfing your hands in sweater paws and the resolve with which Minho had purposefully rang your doorbell with, was already starting to slip away.

Minho finds it near impossible to step inside your small apartment, knowing the walls around him would bring back too many memories he had tried hard to suppress all night the day before, screaming into his pillow in frustration when they had inadvertently bobbed back up like a cork in water, stubbornly reminding him of why he had to be here in the first place.

The first thing he notices on entering is the cardboard box on the coffee table; things only get harder from there.

He’s unsure of what to do with his hands, his head feels too big for his neck and he’s constantly tumbling down an endless spiral of emotions the longer he stares at the empty spaces in your house that once used to be filled up with his trinkets. The feeling refuses to subside when he rummages through the box, picking out articles that punch him square in the chest.

“I thought you liked this hoodie,” he picks up blue coloured fabric, careful not to crease the fold.

You shrugged in response, you only liked it because it smelt like his scent.

As he keeps going through everything inside the box, he’s visibly upset at how you haven’t spared even the smallest of things; his half empty bottle of citrus bodywash, an empty diary from last year he had bought for himself out of impulse, his favourite fountain pen that had rolled under the drawer and he had never bothered to retrieve, until he stumbles upon the small velvet box he couldn’t forget even if he wanted to.

“I got this for your birthday,” his voice rose unexpectedly on opening it and finding the silver chain intactly placed inside, obviously trying hard not to lose his mind and snap at you for the wrong reasons, but how could you return this?

“Yeah well, you also told me that you loved me right after, so it kind of lost all its meaning.” the defensive tone was not intentional, but it was exactly what it was supposed to be – a front up against Minho’s own offence.

“What must I do to make you believe that it was real?”

“I don’t want to talk about this,” you were ready to walk away the moment he brought up the topic, leaving him to sort things out but a tug on your wrist, harsher than intended, makes you stop in your tracks.

“I want to talk about this,” Minho is comparatively calmer now, but his eyes are livid and not at you but himself. Yet, a part of him, though wary of the sense of deja vu he was having standing here in a similar predicament as when you had broken up, can’t seem to understand you at all. He acknowledges your anger and resentment, doesn’t try to question the way you avoid him at all costs but for the life of him, absolutely can’t understand why you wouldn’t talk.

“You never gave me a chance to explain anything (y/n), you just assumed the worst and refused to believe me even after I tried so hard to explain – to show you that I love you, yet it’s like you’ve built up this huge wall that you refuse to let down and for what? What are you so afraid of, is it confrontation? What is it? Tell me, because I sure as hell don’t understand why we can’t just talk about this?!”

“Oh so it’s my fault now?! This is how you truly feel, don’t you? All those stupid boxes of chocolates and paying for my coffee and those stupid fucking blueberry muffins – I don’t even like blueberry muffins, I only ate them because you liked them! – all that was just so you could feel better about yourself, wasn’t it? And now I’ve hurt your ego by returning what’s yours, so it’s my fault!”

Your voices were slowly rising with every syllable, the anger in your eyes directed at each other in furious glares and the confrontation that never truly happened finally tumbling out in more hurtful words.

“You knew about that?” Minho breathes out shortly, the grip of his fingers around your wrist loosening when your eyes tear up.

“Not until yesterday I didn’t, but you had your fun right? Bet you enjoyed every second of it,” you hate yourself for tearing up so easily, for letting his words affect you so much that it made you shrivel up and cower in fear of more. There was something about his anger that hurt you even more than before.

The venom in your voice was amiss, the way it tumbled out wrapped in hurt and vulnerability and yet again, Minho is reminded of exactly how much he had messed up, all over again.

“I didn’t do it so I could gloat at you or have fun,” he breathes out, rubbing his face tiredly, “I’m so sick of not being able to talk to you or hold you or even–”

His words are cut short, trapped at the back of his throat and he swallows them down forcefully, heaving his chest in exertion and blinking his eyes rapidly.

“I love you, I really do (y/n), believe me please.”

What are you even supposed to say? The same man had told you, six months into your relationship, that he had in fact not been sure of his feelings for you, immediately nullifying any meaning behind the three syllables he had so often muttered in your ears or against your lips, and now here he was saying the same thing. How were you expected to not not let this affect you?

“Stop it, I don’t believe you anymore.”

“Give me a chance,” the sniffle breaks you, ripping your insides and swallowing you in a pit of your own pity. You won’t look at him, you won’t listen to him.

Lee Minho does not love you. He will never love, and you must convince yourself of that, no matter how much your heart faltered at the decision.

“No.”

Minho nods his head at the floor, slowly putting everything inside the box again and when the final article is put away, he stands up awkwardly with it in his hands, desperately trying to search for a single ounce of hesitance in your eyes, but you refuse to look up.

“Are you sure about this?”

No, you’re not sure what you’re sure of anymore. But this feels wrong; so, so wrong and yet this guarantees you a safeguard to your feelings, a way to ensure that you don't wear your heart on your sleeve.

“Yes.”

“Okay…okay.”

The door closes behind Minho, the silence in your house echoing against the walls and you’re left standing alone again. Outside your door, Minho stands motionless, slowly letting the parasite squirming in his stomach to reach out for his heart and squeeze it till he could no longer breathe.

twelve.

If love was in the air was a literal concept, this would be it.

The halls were bursting with over buzzed students trying out the various booths that had been put up. It had taken your and Jisung’s combined efforts and reassurances to convince Hyunjin to get a breather and man his own photography booth that he had abandoned in a panicked frenzy of ensuring all the others were running smoothly, leaving poor Jisung to fend off by himself.

The halls were entirely decked with pink and red streamers with posters pointing towards various booths put up along with balloons. The quadrant was set up with kiosks and food stalls, lovely flower arrangements lining up the perimeter, and glitter! There was so much glitter everywhere, most of the planning committee that had been directly involved in dealing with it still had specks of it in their hair, and though they gave Hyunjin the stank eye once in a while, anybody could tell they were proud of their hard work and happy about it too. Hyunjin had really gone all out, you doubted he had spared a single penny of their budget from going into this.

As for you, you were mostly in the announcement room helping with the setup and ensuring all the PA systems were connected to the hallways and running. It temporarily helped in taking your mind off things because boy was your mind buzzing with countless thoughts.

It had been only two days – two days since you turned down Minho, two days since you stopped receiving handmade chocolates and pre-ordered coffee, two days of classes without Minho, two days of nervously holding your breath in every class you shared with him for him to turn up, only to find out that the boy had seemingly disappeared the face of the earth.

Two days of Minho not being anywhere near you and you felt like you had committed the greatest crime in the universe.

Trying to talk to Felix had been futile; he had been in and out of classes in a fretful scurry, mumbling about the humongous amount of baking that had to be done for the D-day and all he could supply you with was a non-committal excuse about being busy.

In short, you hadn’t seen nor heard nor heard of Minho in the past forty eight hours, and now you were worried. Funny how the tables had turned, but oh well, irony doesn’t leave anyone unattended.

So far you had managed to pass off the gurgling pit of of anxiety reflected on your face as nerves about talking into the PA; Hyunjin had been to caught up in his worries and accepted the explanation, but it was a hard pass against Felix who you were currently standing across the booth from, trying to divert his attention with compliments about his cookies.

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” he deadpans, your eyes blinking at him innocently as you chew on the delicacy. You had about half an hour to report to the broadcasting room, so you were whiling away your time trying to pry whatever information you could about Minho from his roommate, stealthily disguising it under a veil of compliments. It wasn’t working.

“I know something happened between you, you don’t have to pretend (y/n),” he rolls his eyes before turning to a customer with a smile and attending to them. The duality, you do not deserve such slander. But you do decide to drop with the pretence.

“I just want to know if he’s fine, okay? I think I…I was too harsh.”

This was true, but also very embarrassing to admit. It was like one of those moments in life where you say or do something and the immediate train of regret hits you with full force, derailing you from your own resolution and dumping your limp body in a sea of embarrassment and strong desire to turn back time.

Having second thoughts was sadly a part of this whole ordeal, the deal sealed off with a nice pinch of passionate frustration and a confused temperament. Yet, you do not find yourself willing to stand up to the challenge of facing and amending the distress you were left reeling with.

There was a lot you had to admit, the heaviness of your pent up feelings weighing you down but you didn’t know how to say it out loud.

“Listen,” Felix’s attention is on you again, but not for long as more people approach him, “I don’t know what’s going on between you guys, but even a five year old can tell that there’s definitely something between you guys. Now I know I’ve never been in a relationship and definitely have no concept of timely damage control, but if you want to make things right, do it now. I don’t want to graduate from this hellhole watching two of my friends become strangers. It doesn’t matter if you don’t get back together, but you can’t let yourselves be ripped apart like this, okay?”

“I know you both love each other,” his words spread like a warm fire through you, “but you’re both idiots who won’t admit it.” Wrong, Minho did admit it, you were just too scared to let him have a part of your heart again after the first time. This was on you, and it was starting to feel scary to bear such a burden.

“And if you tell me that a month from now, you can walk past each other in the hall as if nothing had happened like there was no history between you two, I might believe you. But if you tell me that you didn’t regret doing this in the future, I will laugh in your face, because damn you would have to be convincing to lie like that.”

Stunned, you can only nod at him meekly, gulping down the bitter taste at the back of your throat at the mention of becoming estranged with someone you loved so dearly.

“Don’t do this…this wallowing in self pity and pretending to be okay when you both know it’s far from that, just go talk to each other.”

Felix finishes with a pat on your shoulder and a gentle squeeze before leaving you to walk away with heavy steps and a strong desire to dash to the nearest washroom to force those tears back.

You realise that the first step had been to confess the very fact – Minho was someone you loved. The thought of graduating and leaving this place without him by your side was daunting. He had been half of the reasons this place had been bearable. Beyond the four walls with a projector overhead, and a professor droning about something you were too distracted to register, he had always been there to pass notes to you with silly doodles or sent you cat memes to while the time or scratched out wobbly stars in the corner of your notebooks. The little things that you had stored as memories were resurfacing and the heavy realisation of your endearing affection for them was settling in.

Everything suddenly felt overwhelming; your thoughts were tangled in a numb mess making your head throb with a dull thud. The beautiful decorations around you were a blur of red, the loud buzzing of excited people, a drone in your ears.

Love was in the air, but you were out of breath, suffocating as the voices inside your head drowned you out from the world.

thirteen.

You and Seungmin had done about a fifty confessions in three hours, all with a periodic music break where Changbin and Chan would take over, belting out beats and occasionally promoting their band. You were sure Hyunjin wouldn't mind, especially not when it was 3racha in question; the entire campus was in love with the trio.

Hyunjin had burst into the room during one such song break, cheeks flushed and eyes twinkling – literally twinkling in happiness – and spluttered out in an excited mess about how he had seen at least a dozen people ask each other out after the confessions were read out.

“Only a dozen? We’ve read about fifty of these…” Seungmin said monotonously, but Hyunjin was seemingly unfettered with the less than enthusiastic reaction.

“I’ve seen a dozen, but who knows how many more are out there? Cheer up Seungmin, I’ll get you a coffee – in fact, I’ll get you all a snack, my treat for working so hard!”

Well, someone was definitely in a good mood, and neither of you were going to turn down the offer of free food and drinks. Besides, you did kind of deserve it after all.

Aside from one bathroom break, you had stayed inside the broadcasting room for most part of the day, volunteering to stay back when the crew wanted to go out and enjoy for a while. Oh and, you had also messaged Felix every half an hour, inquiring whether Minho had come to the fest and every time he had responded with a variation of ‘not yet’ and ‘I haven’t seen him yet’. There might have been a reason you were trying not to leave this room yet.

The rational part of you agreed that calling the man in question would yield better results, but the emotional part of you decided against it if you didn’t want to freeze up at the sound of his voice and burst into tears in the middle of a sappy confession.

Speaking of confessions, it was your turn for another one and it seemed awfully familiar the moment you read out the name. Seungmin gestures at you just as Chan drowns out the last notes of the current song playing and signals for you to start.

“That was ‘On Track’, produced by none other than our favourite trio, 3racha! And now it’s time for another lovely confession! This one’s from loverboy20,” you smile, knowing only too well who this was, slightly excited at how this was going to turn out since you don’t remember reading this before, “to the guy who’s been on his mind since freshman year.”

“Hi, it’s loverboy20 here and I’m not sure how I’m supposed to do this but heck, if I don’t do this now, I’ll never get down to it and then I’m going to regret my entire life about not asking out the cute guy I’ve had a crush on for ages and…I’m rambling now.

I would go back and type this out all over again, but you need to know exactly how hard this is for me and I’ve already been staring at my screen for an hour, unsure of what to type because I have no idea what to say or how to go about this but forgive me, I hope you won’t hate me entirely once this is over.

I saw you first in the freshman orientation and thought you were kinda cute with your flannel shirt and beanie. You looked like the cool kid with your guitar, sitting in the row in front of me and putting in your headphones. I don’t think anyone noticed but me – they weren’t even connected to your phone. It was cute, you were I mean…you still are.

And then I met you in the talent show where we got paired up for the impromptu segment and we had this huge fight about rapping better and dancing better and…long story short, the crush I had on you was slowly starting to feel questionable. But! But then just as I was starting to get over it, you go ahead and do something stupidly cute like paying for my americano because I didn’t have money on me and saving me from embarrassing myself. I think we started hitting it off from there and then…well, it just happened. Like…I started falling for you more and then one day it was like getting hit by a train full of those feelings. I mean, you were right there in front of me in your flannel shirt again and I just suddenly felt like someone had knocked the wind out of me.

This is…oh my god, this is so embarrassing, I’m basically rambling about how you made me fall for you oh my god…anyway…it just felt right.

Being with you, spending even the passing moments between hectic classes just getting coffee or sailing up late to talk to you while you worked; it made me happy and I want to keep doing it. I like you, a lot. You make me so happy and I have to physically stop my heart from leaping out when you’re around and can you please not hold my hands without a warning, it makes me nervous…no actually, you can hold my hand if you want to. If you want to, if you don’t hate me already. I’m just shooting my shot, you probably don’t like me and I might never be able to face you again after this, but yeah…okay.

If you don’t already know, this is for you, Han Jisung. My confession probably sucked, I can’t write beautiful words like you do or belt out a song like you but I really, really like you. That’s that then. This is loverboy20, and if you plan on getting back to me, I’ll be working with you in the photography booth.”

Jesus fucking Christ, Hyunjin had really done it. Changbin had positively squealed after the confession, hitting Chan in the chest and pretending to cry; you wouldn’t have been surprised if he had actually cried. Seungmin had also been smiling, unable to stop the surprised chuckle when he heard Jisung’s name. Chan just looked like a proud dad sending his kids off to school for the first time.

Something about this spiel had broken you though.

It felt right…

That’s what Hyunjin said. It felt right when he was with Jisung and it made him happy. And knowing Jiusng’s side of the story, his mutual feelings for him which no doubt would be finally conveyed now, they had both ultimately worked it out through their differences and fallen for each other right?

The phrase bugged you. It stuck to you like leech, sucking on your mind incessantly until you realised what it was. But of course, that’s exactly how you always felt with Minho. It had felt so right, just like the night Hyunjin had first told you, like this was meant to be and the feeling is so oddly familiar, it drowns you in it’s simplicity like a warm hug comforting you after a gruesome fight of heart over mind and you realise that wearing your heart on your sleeves was worth it if it was Minho.

It was Minho all along; you would always go back to him because you know – and the enormity of the realisation settles in with a relief – that he’s loved you since the beginning. He had taken time getting there, maybe he had never realised or indeed never had feelings for you romantically, but he had been there as your friend always. He was there with warm soup when you were sick, with his childish berating when you pulled one too many all-nighters, there with an umbrella when you were stuck without one on campus, there to kiss you goodnight after every date.

Minho waited till he was entirely sure of his feelings for you, because in the end he was afraid of hurting you. And even then he only spoke the truth; all he wanted was your trust and time. You trust his feelings, he’s never meant to harm you before nor now. You just forgot to trust the process and the time it took for him to get there and it ashames you now.

You didn’t cry all those weeks after the breakup because you had found it hard to accept that he hadn’t loved you just as much as you did. You had cried because you knew he did, for he had trusted you enough to tell you that, but he hadn’t found it in himself to let you down in fear of losing you. And wasn’t that what both of you had been afraid of? Treading around each other like you were walking on a floor made of glass, the inevitable fear of stepping too hard and losing each other in the midst of the million shards you would tumble down with.

There was a way – a final chance – to put this right.

What you were about to do would probably haunt you for life if it all went wrong but you loved him. You love him. You know this. And that’s where you’ll start – by accepting it.

fourteen.

Minho can’t fathom why he’s here. He should be anywhere but here, feeling swaddled by all the couples and the cute couple games and the over-the-top decorations.

He hates it all and he hates your voice over the speaker right now, reading out Hyunjin’s confession. He was there in person to witness Hyunjin growing redder by the second and Jisung’s brain trying to process everything. Cute, disgustingly cute. That could have been you and him.

He spots Felix’s booth in the midst of all the chaos, the boy himself looking flushed as he was constantly on the run. Word had spread about his bake sale, and people had started flocking to his booth, leaving him hassled as he was a one man army. He didn’t notice Minho till he walked right up to the front and slipped inside his stall.

“Hyung, I’m so glad you’re here!”

“Hey Lix, you look busy,” Minho states, observing from behind as he collects cash and gives out wrapped cookies and brownies, thanking every customer with a bright smile. A few students may have simpered over his boyish charms, but Felix was too busy to notice, failing to notice their obvious flirting. Minho has to hide a laugh as they walk away disappointed with cookies in their hands.

When the crowd dwindles a little, Minho could make out Seungmin’s voice on the speakers now, no doubt swapping with you after five consecutive readings. He finally gets a chance to strike up a conversation with his roommate.

“Business looks prosperous,”

Felix smirks back at him, pocketing the cash he had received before saying, “Yeah, the crowd's pretty good. Some people even came back for seconds, they love this stuff!”

“Of course they do, you’re good at it,” Minho shrugs off-handedly, but Felix could sense the genuine praise underneath.

“Hey hyung, can you do me a favour? I’ve got two cartons of this stuff in my car in the parking lot, can you bring me one? Can’t really leave the booth empty.”

Minho didn’t mind helping out, he anyway didn’t have much to do around here and he had only come because Felix had pestered him to get out of the house and stop sulking all weekend. Granted, the first thing he had heard was your voice reading out a confession like it was your own, he hadn't turned around and sprinted right away like he had thought he would have.

Felix hands him his car keys and off he goes to the parking lot, where there’s a relatively smaller number of people. It takes him a while to search for the car, all the while walking further away from the building, seungmin’s voice a faint noise in the back, and finally finds the familiar blue one parked right in the back.

Carefully taking out one of the boxes, he marvels at its weight and can only assume it’s loaded to the brim. If any of this manages to get saved, Minho has a feeling he knows what the 3 AM snack for the entire next month is going to be. Sometimes, he marvels at the younger boy and the amount of baking he can get done in a matter of a few hours.

As he’s walking back, he registers your voice which was on again on the speakers, growing louder the minute he got closer to the building. He tries his best to ignore the knot in his stomach but stops when he hears your next words.

“The next confession is to an ex, from… anonymous.”

There’s a pause on your end, but Minho is starting to anticipate this one. The word ex resounds loudly inside his head, his chest constricting when he hears the way you say it. It was as if you were taking this to heart when it wasn’t even your confession.

“Hi…I hope you’ve been doing well, I kind of miss you…maybe more than just “kind of”...

I honestly can’t believe I’m doing this right now, it seems crazy; I feel crazy doing this, but honestly? Screw it, I don’t think I can lie to myself anymore. I know I was trying to save face and keep my distance but a part of me was desperately trying to protect my feelings and yours.

I don’t think you’re here right now, I hope you’re not. Or maybe you are, in which case, good. But not really. This is hard…I don’t have this written out and I can’t do this extempore, but you’re not here, so it’s okay. Are you here though? It doesn’t matter…”

Minho is completely frozen to his spot. He was hoping for too much, but even with your face hidden, he could hear the panic in your voice. Why were you panicked?

“I know I acted like an ass, I know I messed up too but I realised that I couldn’t force you to feel the same way as I did. Maybe you needed more time, and perhaps I should have been willing to give you more of that.

I know we made mistakes – both of us – and I’m scared that this might be the end of everything, but I thought about it for so long and I want you to know that I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not being able to give you more time when you needed it, I should’ve never expected you to fall in love with me all at once; I forgot we all have different paces and different ways of loving.

You said you didn’t love me; maybe I’m being delusional and hopeful when I say this, but I think you did…love me. Maybe not all at once, but it was there – you were there – in bits and pieces; in the way you picked up blueberry muffins on Wednesdays because you knew I didn’t have time for breakfast, in the way you got annoyed at having to pick up coffee for me but you did it anyway, in the way you sat all night looking up my favourite shows so we could enjoy it together, in the way you added peas to my scrambled eggs because I liked it that way.

I noticed it all, but somehow I…I overlooked it. I took it for granted, getting mad at you because you didn’t or couldn’t say those three words back at me because all I wanted was for you to love me as much as I loved you…as much as I still love you. But you did,and you cared so much for me, and I failed to see it. And that makes me feel shitty, but I deserve it.

I want you to know that I still love you, I do. So stop giving me boxes of my favourite chocolates and paying for my coffee and let’s talk this out. I promise, I’ll listen better this time, and I’ll wait for as long as it takes for you to reach out. I promise I won’t rush you, and if you still never feel the same as I do, I promise I’ll not hold you accountable for it.

So Lee Minho, if you’re out there and listening to this…I miss you, so much. And I love you, and won’t ever stop loving you. But let’s talk this out, as adults, and whatever happens, I’ll accept it with grace. I owe you that, so, yeah…”

There’s a pause not many notice due to the chaos, but for those who were listening, they pick up on the abrupt music that starts playing. Minho is one of them, but he doesn’t register the slip up because he can’t, in all honesty, think of anything right now.

He was left reeling in his spot, unable to move his feet from where they were planted on the ground. Lee Minho, that was his name – you said his name. This was your confession. Fuck.

It was hard to ignore the stare at your back and the bated breath with which everybody had been listening to your ramble, but it’s even harder to ignore the rapid beating of your chest, the only sound now drumming in your ears obnoxiously.

Before you know it, your feet are moving of their own accord. You’re pushing yourself up from the chair, ignoring the cramp that had settled after sitting for more than an hour in the same place and in a split second you’re out the door and running nowhere in particular. Nobody stops you, and even if they tried, they doubted they would be able to.

It almost looked like Felix had been expecting you. He definitely looked surprised when you panted to a stop in front of him, ignoring the weird stares you received, only two syllables coming out of your mouth, “Where’s Minho?”

“He’s in the parking lot.”

That’s it. That’s all you need before you’re running again, slithering through the crowd and wheezing when you finally reach the parking lot. He was here. Minho was here, in the parking lot, on campus and he probably heard your confession. He hates you now, he definitely hates you and the sudden realisation that he heard your confession almost makes you want to tear the world apart in embarrassment. But you couldn’t turn back now.

You were too far down this hole to climb back up any time soon and you were going to see the end of it.

fifteen.

When you had imagined this happening, you had been less daunted by the prospect. Additionally, you also had the safety of these thoughts being in your head and never in real life.

In short, you felt like shitting your pants.

Minho was not saying anything. In fact, after pulling you into one of the lecture halls inside the building the best he could with a heavy box of cookies he was least worried about for now, he hadn’t done much except quietly lean back on the desk, waiting for you to speak while you sat in front of him on one of the benches. This was nerve wracking, the unpredictability of the situation and the long foreboding silence that you had both been sitting in. you had both been riveted by a small patch of dust, swirling around in a small typhoon in a sunny corner of the room, watching the silent chaos quietly.

The room feels too big without the presence of students filling it, you’ve never noticed it before, with its large windows and the sun streaming in like golden ribbons, exactly how much silence it can hold within its four walls.

You’re the first to break the silence.

“About earlier, I don’t know why I did that. I thought you weren’t going to be there, I mean not that it’s bad you heard but–”

“Did you mean it?” Minho cuts you off, but he sounds wary, cautious of where he treads because the trepidation that comes along with a feeling of things coming to an end blankets the two of you heavily.

“Which part?” your voice is reduced to a whisper, your thoughts too loud and overpowering.

“All of it…do you love me?”

This was easier done on the speaker and spoken into a mic. Now you’re too aware of Minho’s gaze staring you down and the sound of his shifting feet on the ground; your head is held low where your own eyes fixate on the ground till you see the tip of his shoes come into view and the telltale presence of a person close to you.

“My inadequacy to love you was never your fault (y/n), I swear I have loved you for ages but I didn’t want to lose you with my incapability of being sufficient.” Minho had to bare his all for this, in a mutual attempt to right the wrong and speak the unspoken, even if it made him want to dig a hole and bury himself under for eternity.

“I know Minho, I know. I’m sorry for not being able to recognise that sooner.”

“But I want to be with you, and for that I was most certain I didn’t want to lie about anything.”

“So you said you never loved me?”

“I never meant that. You know I’m an idiot, you know I suck with words and I would rather you hated me for it than have to speak out my feelings. All of those cruel things I said, all that shouting, every waking moment I wish I could take it all back. But I’m such a fool for you (y/n), I hate what you do to me.”

“You were never insufficient, and you certainly weren’t in the wrong to tell me the truth. I was just too hurt and blinded by the people around me bent on making me believe that you didn’t love me enough…when you said it out loud, I lost it.”

“I should have never made you feel like you were any less loved than others.”

“It was never your fault, it was simply a question of time.”

“I’m such an idiot…”

It came without a preamble and so suddenly, it made you want to joke about it. Minho was anything but an idiot, only too aware of his feelings and deeply connected to them that he had felt guilty for lying about it to you.

“I know you’re an idiot Minho,” a light laughter leaves your lips, your chest gradually starting to feel lighter the more Minho talked, ignoring the fluttering in your heart.

“Is my misery funny to you?”

“No, but your blabbering is,”

“Don’t laugh, please. I feel like a fool and you’re the one who just poured their heart out in front of hundreds of people.”

“Yes, I suppose idiocy seeps into you when one’s around you for too long.”

“I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

“So, is this it?”

“It is if you want it to be.”

“I just thought this would be a lot more serious. And you might cry, not that I want you to cry but I thought I would make you cry again…not that I wanted to.”

“We’ve both bared too much already Min,” Minho feels like the sun itself had bloomed inside him, the warmth of his name tumbling through your lips like sweetened honey spread through him like wildfire, “I wouldn’t have wanted this to go any other way.”

And it’s true. When you walked into this classroom, you were ready to accept whatever it was that was to befall without any complaints. Regrets, perhaps, but if your heart was to be broken when you left this room, you were prepared for it. It made this talk so much easier when it didn’t end up with a promise of tears.

You came here with an intent and it was to do your best so you didn’t lose someone you loved dearly, no matter the price.

A long silence ensues. You can hear the tunes of a soft song floating through the speakers outside, almost as if Chan had planned it for the right moment.

Minho leans down and holds your face in his hands, closing the gap between you gently before kissing you. God, you had missed this. You had forgotten how gentle Minho could be when it came to you, how he kissed you softly but firmly, slowly prying your lips open till you were completely drowning in him.

Bringing your hands up, you gently pry yourself apart from him, feeling yourself melt when you notice the panic in his eyes. The parasite inside him starts wiggling again, had you not wanted this?

“It’s okay, I just want you to know that you don’t have to rush this. I’ll be here for you always, I promise.”

Minho feels the parasite inside him slowly withering with every word you speak and every soft stroke of your thumb across his cheek.

“I already know I love you.”

“So you won’t run away?”

“I promise I won’t. And I’ll make it up to you for eternity.”

“That’s cheesy,” your heart does miss a beat.

“I know. I’m going to regret this later.”

“Must be all the love in the air.”

“Must be…”

A cheesy verse about a boy serenading the love of his life breaks out in a tender melody, but you’re both kissing again, never rushing into the feeling of it, just quietly drowning in each other.

“You know, an eternity is a long time,” you say, breaking apart for air again and pressing one long kiss on his lips, “are you sure you’re up for it?”

“I don’t think it would be that bad.”

For the first time in months, Minho finally feels himself liberated from that tight knot in his chest and the parasite that once resided there, nowhere in sight. His insides glow warm under your touch and his overwired mind is finally calm and bereft of muddled thoughts.

The shadows shift and the dust in the corner of the room finally dies down, settling on the ground gently.

The immense longing of your hearts finally reach out for each other, intertwining each other in a warm hug that comforts the turbulent melancholy within and the loneliness starts to fade away.

An eternity wouldn’t be that bad after all.

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havenwithleeknow · 1 year ago

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Pairing : Lee Minho x F!Reader TW : fighting ; Minho being a jerk ; angst ; fluffy at the end ; established relationship Word Count : 3.8k Request : i would like to know if you could please write something super angsty but with a fluff ending with him, could be a fight or maybe some bad things said in the heat of the moment, idk you choose, whatever you feel comfortable with. A/N : This took so long to get around to and I'm so sorry, but I finally finished it and I hope that you love it! It was a nice little change from what I've been working on right now. Thank you for loving my writing and supporting me, and I don't know if you remember saying it when you requested but you said you love me forever and always and the feeling is 100% mutual anon!!! Thank you so much!!

Things with Minho weren’t always perfect, no relationship ever was, but you liked to think that your relationship was strong enough to withstand the usual hurdles that most couples went through. For the most part, speed bumps would be smoothed over in a matter of minutes and arguments were more like the flame of a birthday candle, blown out within seconds of lighting it. You both loved each other, and that feeling was strong enough to get the both of you through even the toughest of days. You weren’t sure what was different about this time around, maybe it was the timing, or maybe it was just the fact that you both had gone through this kind of thing so many times that there was no more going around it. You both had to face it head on, and that was something that you never expected to do.

“Where are you going?” You asked when you saw him heading to the door with a suitcase. Nothing had happened, not yet at least, and the sight in front of you had your stomach sinking. “Is something wrong? Did I do something?” He had never given you a reason to feel like you had to walk on eggshells, but seeing him this way, like he was about to walk out on you, had you beyond nervous, beyond terrified.

“I’m not going anywhere, kitten.” He cooed, placing the bag down next to the door before walking over to you, his hands moving to your hips to hold you steady as he looked you in the eye. “We’re gonna be filming a new music video further out in the country and it’s gonna take a couple days. I’ll be staying at a hotel so I don’t have to keep driving back and forth every day. I’ll be back before you know it.” He leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead before backing up, but his words and the sentiment behind the action weren’t as reassuring as you wanted them to be.

“Well… Why didn’t you tell me about it? I never heard about a new music video…” You said, the words coming out rather sharply, although you didn’t intend them to. “I mean… What if I didn’t catch you leaving? I’d just wake up and you’d be gone. Do you not care about how that would have made me feel?!”

He rolled his eyes, running his fingers through his hair as he glared at you, his eyes ice cold and sending a shiver down your spine. “Sometimes I forget to tell you things, my life is kind of busy Y/N. Sue me for it. My life doesn’t exactly revolve around you.” He snapped back, and you knew that he could be kind of harsh with his words, but you didn’t know the extent of it until now, and those words had never been targeted towards you until this moment. “You’re so far up my ass anyway, I thought you would have known about the music video already considering you’re always right fucking there.”

You swallowed thickly, a nervous chill running through you from being yelled at by the one person in your life that had never raised their voice at you at all before. You weren’t used to it, and you already felt the tears pricking your eyes as you stared at him. “I’m sorry that my way of loving you isn’t good enough, or if it’s a little too much for you. You should have let me know so that I didn’t get so attached.” You retorted, albeit far more quietly, your held back tears causing the words to come out sounding more choked off than anything.

“Yeah, maybe I should have. And maybe I didn’t tell you about my little trip because I didn’t want you to tag along. I need my own space.” He said, and you felt your stomach tighten up, your throat closing in, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep yourself from crying. If you continued with the argument you’d only break down, so you stayed silent, waiting to see if he had any more left to say. You were like his verbal punching bag, and maybe he was just really stressed out right now, but he was taking it all out on you, and everything that he was saying sounded like his genuine feelings. “I’ve wasted enough time on you… I need to go.” Was the last thing he said before walking out, not a goodbye uttered by either of you, just the tension filled silence that grew and filled the space between the both of you until he walked out the front door.

It was strange, how your mind was filled with so much, yet you couldn’t think of anything at all. You just stood there in the middle of the room, staring at the door that he had walked out of you don’t know how long ago now. Time seemed to stand still, everything was frozen, not even the sound of birds tweeting outside could be heard. It was like your entire world had stopped, and that’s when you realized that maybe he was right, what he had said wasn’t just nonsense said in a moment of anger or annoyance. It was the truth, it was the wake up call that you needed.

You were attached to him, far too attached and it wasn’t healthy, not in the slightest. Your world shouldn’t feel like it was crumbling just because of one argument, but it did, and the walls were caving in and the floor was sinking beneath your feet and you felt like you were going to be swallowed into the nothingness that would be your life without him. You had to do the both of you a favor, you had to get out of there, you had to give him the space that he very clearly needed, a space that you didn’t know you needed as well.

With your number dialed on his phone, his thumb hovered over the call button. You’d pick up, he knew that you would, but he was scared of what you’d say to him. He knew what he’d say to himself if he had been on the receiving end of his own words this morning. You had simply asked where he was going, and there was nothing wrong with that, he knew that. He would have felt the same sense of fear that you clearly felt if the roles were reversed. He was stressed, but that was no excuse for treating you that way, for acting the way he did.

“Guys… can you… can you be quiet for a moment?” He called out to the rest of his members that were foolishly goofing off behind him, not a care in the world, and while their voices softened just a bit, their antics continued. He’d never be able to talk to you, not like this, at least he wouldn’t be able to be relaxed during the conversation. He needed to apologize to you, and while a face to face apology would be better, a phone call was all that he was able to give you right now, and for that, he felt even worse.

His thumb pressed against the green button and he quickly brought the phone up to his ear, awaiting and expecting to hear your voice after the first ring. But the first ring came and went, leading into the second, and then the third, and it was so rare for such a thing to happen that he assumed he had just dialed the wrong number.

Now, something like that wasn’t likely to happen, not with him. Your number had been etched into his mind since the day he had gotten it from you, the dialing of the digits a muscle memory now. He had to find a reason for the lack of an answer though, and the only reason he could come up with was that maybe his finger had slipped, it had slipped just enough to press a wrong number, and that’s why your voice hadn’t come through his speaker to reassure him and calm his nerves.

He pressed out the numbers once more, slowly this time, focusing on his screen and reading back the digits at the top once they were all there just to make sure he was right this time around. “Come on…” He mumbled to himself as he heard the first ring sound out, fading off into silence just to be followed by the second ring. This never happened, you never ignored him, you always had your phone close enough to you to hear the special ringtone that you had given to just him. This had to mean that something was wrong, something happened, and his own stomach sank at the possibility, all of the things that could have happened. “I have to go guys.” He said, his words short as he walked right past them, not even bothering to give them an explanation as they all tried to follow behind him. He didn’t have time for explanations right now, but once he was sure that you were okay he’d tell them what had happened. You were his top priority right now, you were top priority always, no matter where he was or what he was doing, you were always number 1 in his mind.

His phone sat in the center console of the car as he started the drive back home, his eyes glancing down at it every couple seconds just to check if you were calling him back or if you had texted him to let him know that you had just been busy in the shower or something. Anything, he would have taken anything over the silence that he was receiving right now, and the longer it lasted the more worried he got. The little argument that the two of you had earlier that morning seemed like nothing to him, it didn’t even cross his mind that you’d be upset about it because he just assumed that you would know that he meant none of the words that came out of his mouth. There was just so much going on, the words were meaningless, and at the end of the day, he absolutely adored you, he loves you, you knew that.

The set for the music video was 2 hours away, and that was if there was no traffic at all, but of course, he had the luck of running into rush hour, and he had been stopped at every single red light, turning what would have been a 2 hour car ride into almost 4 hours and in that duration of time he had heard nothing from you, he hadn’t heard from you at all and by the time he pulled up to the apartment he was on the verge of having a full fledged panic attack.

His keys were almost left in the ignition of the car in his rush to get inside, and the only reason he remembered to grab them was because he needed to unlock the front door to get to you. No matter how fast he tried to move, it felt like his feet wouldn’t carry him any faster than the speed of a snail, and maybe it was some kind of internal hesitation, a fear that what would be on the other side of the door once he opened it, or better you, what might not be there.

“Y/N!” He called out your name, practically screaming it as he pushed the door open, the sound of the doorknob slamming against the wall breaking the silence of the shared home. As he looked around, everything seemed far too still, as if nothing had been touched, no one had moved inside these four walls for hours, and his breaths became faster as he stepped further into the apartment. It was quiet, too quiet, and he could only describe what he felt right now as being at the top of a 20 story building and standing on the edge looking straight down.

It was like he was frozen in the center of the room now, trying to find any sign of life, any sign of you being there, and he thought, maybe if he looked around enough, maybe if he did a couple double takes something would come up, but all he was met with was nothing. There was no heat that clung to the LCD screen of the television after having been on for a little bit too long. There was no scent of laundry detergent in the air that would alert him that you had clothes going. The hum of the dishwasher wasn’t heard as it usually would be when he came home, and there was no sound of water running through pipes that would indicate you were in the shower. Everything about the house right now felt empty.

Why did an empty house feel so claustrophobic? The walls were closing in on him, he couldn’t breathe and all he wanted was to push them back, and the only thing that would allow him to take a deep breath was finally seeing you. Where were you? If you had only gone out for groceries, the house wouldn’t feel like this. There was some sort of resting stillness, a sense of finality in the emptiness, it felt like it would be like this forever, and he didn’t understand why.

He hadn’t stepped any further into the home, dread filling every bone and taking over every fiber of his being at the mere thought of taking another step. Was it a good thing that he hadn’t? The doorknob jiggled and the sound of keys rattling on the other side had his head whipping around to see you walking in. “Minho…” You whispered his name, freezing in the doorframe. Your arms and your hands were empty, you hadn’t gone grocery shopping… So where have you been? “I didn’t think you’d be here. I’m sorry…” Why were you apologizing? “I just forgot a few things… I’ll be out soon.” Your tone was hushed as you made a move to step past him, but his arm instinctively reached out to grab you, to feel your skin against the palm of his hands, to stop you from walking away from him.

“What do you mean you’ll be out soon? Where are you going?” His tone was hushed as he looked at you, but you didn’t even meet his eyes, staring down at the floor as if you didn’t want to see him. “You didn’t answer your phone, you didn’t text me… What’s going on? Is something wrong, did something happen?” There was a soft sound that came through your lips, and it sounded like a scoff, but he couldn’t be quite sure. You were acting so distant, it scared him, you had never been like this before.

“I was just trying to give you what you needed…” You mumbled, and he could hear it in your voice, in your tone, in every syllable of every word that he couldn’t seem to understand the meaning of. You had been crying, you were devastated, and the only thing that he could manage to get out of the vague sentence was that it had been his fault.

You tried to pull away from him, but he didn’t want to let you go, he couldn’t, not until he knew that things were okay. If he let go now, he was scared that you’d walk away from him, walk out on him, and he knew that his heart wouldn’t be able to handle that. “What do you mean…? I need you. I don’t know where this is coming from, love… I just… I know that we had that little spat this morning but… It was nothing.”

At his words, your eyes finally lifted from the floor, the whites of them reddened and the skin underneath puffy and raw. “It was… nothing?” You repeated his words questioningly, and although you weren’t looking directly at him, he could see your eyes waver as you looked around the room. “Was it nothing because… you didn’t get hurt? Because you got to walk out after completely breaking me down and making me feel like shit? You make me feel like my love isn’t good enough, or that it’s way too much… And then you get to just come back in here and say that it was nothing?”

Clearly what he had thought to be a little spat had been so much more to you, and while the both of you usually didn’t like to dwell on arguments, this one had stuck with you, it had bothered you enough to the point that you were seemingly on the verge of walking out, of leaving him. “I-...” Where was he going to go with that sentence? He didn’t even know, but he was so scared, so so scared that you’d try to pull away again, that it would be the last time you’d ever pull away from him. “I was stressed… I didn’t mean any of that, you know I didn’t… You don’t really think that I think of you like that, do you?”

But surely you did… Because if you didn’t, you wouldn’t be acting this way… You wouldn’t be so upset… “You’re the only one who gets stressed… Sure, we’ll go with that.” You mumbled, letting your arm drop limply, aware now that he wasn’t going to let go of you, not that easily at least. “You said you wanted space, and that’s what I’m giving you. If you’re so stressed… If that’s what made you say that, then I don’t want to be around you anyway.”

What was he supposed to even say now? You were using his words against him, words that he had tried all morning to forget that he had said, but you didn’t forget, you never did. His eyes squeezed shut as if the answers to his question would appear on the insides of his eyelids, but all he saw was darkness, which was exactly what his life would be without you in it if he didn’t fix things. “I’m not… I don’t want space. I want you here with me, I want you to cling to me, I need it.” He was breathless, his breaths coming heavily as if he had just ran a marathon, and he was surely sweating as though he had as well. There was nothing more stressful than what he was going through right now.

“Why? So you can go right back out the door again and leave me here feeling more confused than I was this morning?” You shook your head, but he mirrored the action only double the speed as his eyes went wide, pulling you closer to him until your chest was pressed against his, and his forehead resting against yours. “Minho…” You gasped out his name in one short breath, all others that were supposed to follow were held in your lungs.

“If I walk out that door again… I don’t want to do it alone. I want you right beside me, love.” He quickly spoke, feeling as though time were slipping from his hands the longer he made you wait, he needed to speak fast, he needed to get all of his feelings out so that you knew he was being serious. “I want you to come with me to the shoot, I want you to be there to watch us film, I want to feel your eyes on me the entire time.”

You gnawed on your bottom lip, your eyes staring down at the faded pattern of his t-shirt that had been through the wash way too many times. “What if I don’t want to…? What if I need space?” You quizzed and his heart felt constricted, his breaths sharper now as he thought and assumed a deeper meaning to your words. Why would you say that? Did you just want space so that he could come back home and you not be there? What was the reason behind it?

“No.” He said flatly, causing your head to pull back so you could look up at him with narrowed eyes. He didn’t mean to sound so short with you, but it was the only word he could think to say when everything felt like it was being stacked against him. “Please… I’m sorry…” He wasn’t the type of person that wore his heart on his sleeve, not at all, and his emotions were usually bottled up quite well, but right now it felt like the bottle had been shaken and it was bubbling over, making a mess of the table and the floors. “If you… If you need space, fine… But come with me. You can have space… I just don’t want to leave you, I don’t want to be away from you. Please…”

Begging definitely wasn’t his thing, but he’d be damned if he lost you because his pride was too high. He was willing to do anything to make things right, especially since it had been his words that had messed things up in the first place. He had made the mess and it was his job to clean it up. “You’re so confusing, Minho…” You sighed, letting your head drop back down against his chest as his hand came up to pet through your hair.

“I know, I’m gonna work on that, I promise.” His chest vibrated, but what you assumed to be laughter that you weakly chuckled along with were the stuttered breaths that he had been holding for so long it felt like his lungs would burst. “I love you, and I need you, I’ll always feel that way. If I ever say anything stupid like that again just… call me an idiot and throw a pillow at me or something. I don’t ever want you to feel like your love is too much… I need it. I’ll die without it.”

You scoffed as you lightly pushed him back, crinkling your nose at him. “You’re so dramatic. You’ve been hanging with Hyunjin a little too much, haven’t you?” You teased, but he couldn’t even pretend to be annoyed with the comment, he was just happy to see you playing around, to see your smile again, to know that you weren’t going to leave him.

The two of you belonged together, he felt it in his bones, in his heart and in his soul. There was no one else in this world that he’d rather be with, and if it wasn’t you, he wouldn’t settle for anyone else. He needed you, that much was the honest truth, and while he wouldn’t actually die without you, he’d be much better off that way if he didn’t have you. You were his, and sure, you were attached to him, but he was attached to you, and that’s simply because he wouldn’t be himself without you, and you wouldn’t be you without him. You were each others better halves, and that’s how it always was, how it always will be.

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havenwithleeknow · 2 years ago

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Chan in his dumb dumb dumb era like after 6 years you just realized you're not meant for each other?!?!

『•• 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞 ••』

word count : 2k

notes : i don't like this cause it just seems like a stepping stone for the other fics but hhhhhh we'll see how it goes

~ chapter 1 of 'the price of resurrection' ~

+ taglist - @havenwithleeknow

'work overran. won't be home for dinner, sorry baby :( promise i'll be home tmr ❤️ '

you stared blankly at the bright screen of your phone, not even bothering to text him back. forcing yourself to hold in your tears, you took out the roll of cling film from the kitchen drawer and wrapped up chan's food that had been sitting cold for the past half hour.

you had met chan in your teenage years. he was the sweetest man you had ever known; so caring of others, extremely selfless, would always put his friends before him without hesitation. it was his beautiful personality that drew you to him.

after accepting your confession and beginning a relationship with you, your hopes began springing up once again. he was so kind, and would prioritise you over anything in the world. you couldn't bring yourself to believe that chan, the man of your dreams, actually loved you back.

it was perfect. your life was perfect. after years of having your heart broken by pointless relationships in high school, you had finally found love.

although, it had never occured to you that just because you were content with your life, it wasn't a guarantee for everyone else. it was a shattering knock in the head that made you realise life could never work your way when you found yourself in the worst fight possible with chan on the first night he actually came home for dinner in months. apparently, he didn't love you as much as you loved him. apparently, his new job was more important than you. apparently, you didn't matter that much to him.

words neither of you meant were screamed; there were tears on both sides; rings that once promised an eternal life cast aside; and you could remember the slam of the door announcing chan's decision to leave you all too well.

you were supposed to find your one true love, weren't you? the love of your life was supposed to hold your hand as you walked through parks; the love of your life was supposed to cuddle with you as the both of you slept; the love of your life was supposed to kiss away the tears and stay by your side when you were at your most vulnerable; yet why did chan never do any of those?

it was always something. whether it be him being too busy with work to stay the night, or something about his boss needing him overtime, or a new colleague requiring help from him, it was always something that kept him away from you. the routine had carried on for years. you were too blinded by your love for him that you had convinced yourself it was okay, even when all the warning signs in your head tried to snap you out of it.

2 days. it took chan 2 days to make a decision about breaking off your 6 year long relationship. you couldn't tell how he felt about the situation, for you couldn't even bear to come out of the toilet when he came over to collect his things. the letter he gave you before he left sat dusty on top of your desk, you haven't had the guts to open it yet, and to be honest, you weren't sure you wanted to at all.

moving on was too difficult, but so was dwelling on him. it nearly drove you to insanity just by thinking of all the 'what ifs' of your relationship. but his scent was everywhere. even after 3 washes of your oversized hoodie that chan always stole, you could almost smell the distinct cologne he used. you could close your eyes, and he'd be right there, holding you close.

within the 6 years of being with him, you had forgotten life before chan. every happy memory you could remember, there he was. you had thought that maybe if you stayed at home without inadvertently going to the places of your dates, it would be easier to move on, right? wrong. all the sweet words, the comforting hugs, soft snores after finally convincing him to sleep, they were hidden in the bedroom, locked away.

you tried so hard to ignore the burning ache in your heart to just type in the long memorised phone number and press the mocking green button. sure, you had deleted all his contacts, unfollowed his socials, cleared all the photos; but that didn't mean you could delete that little nagging voice inside your head that sounded all too like chan.

oh, but how it hurt to see him smiling in the group photos on his company website; and how painful it was when you found out from the unblocked account that he had recently been promoted after months of persuading his boss; and just when you thought your heart couldn't break anymore than it already did, the pieces turned into splinters as you saw his real smile that you hadn't seen in months on his instagram story.

tears dropped from your lashes. you hadn't even noticed you were crying. it wasn't fair. 6 years down the drain. did your relationship mean nothing to him? was he planning to break up with you all along? was chan just using you to fill the empty hole in his heart until he finally found his one?

feeling anger and bitterness boil in your body, you threw the nearest plushie laying innocently next to you on the floor. it was the wolf plushie chan won you for your 2 year anniversary. in a fit of rage, you began pulling the pictures off the two of you off the wall, tearing them up. grabbing the framed polaroid sitting on the bedside drawing, you smashed it next to the plushie.

you felt your entire body ache. everything was too much. your hands were shaking, you couldn't breathe, the buzzing in your ears were too loud, the lights were too bright, it was all too overwhelming.

then it was silent.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

you awoke to the faint chirping of birds. fumbling blindly for your phone, you realised it was in your hand. noticing the spam notifications that definitely reached near the hundreds, you rubbed your eyes, still bleary and confused. tapping the banners, you saw they were flooded with worried texts from your friends, frantically asking if you were okay after not hearing from you in days.

sighing, you switched your phone off and placed it down, not wanting to respond yet. the polaroid you had taken of chan years ago that you kept safely in your phone case stared back at you, almost daring you to press the evil call button. surely, he wouldn't have moved on already? one call wouldn't hurt, right? what was the worst that could happen?

exactly four days later, you found yourself sitting across chan in the cafe where you first met. he had been talking for the past few minutes, but you couldn't bring your eyes up to meet his, knowing the second you did your entire demeanor would crumble. so you stuck to staring at the very polaroid you memorised every detail of, from the creases to the shadings. "i just don't think i'm right for you." your eyes snapped up at that.

"you're telling me that out of nowhere, in between the 6 years we had been together, you just decided that we're not compatible?" chan sighed at your tone, "that's not what i meant, i just mean that, you know, we have arguments all the time and it's not good for either one of us." you reached across to take chan's hands in yours, feeling hot tears welling up your eyes, "but that's what's supposed to happen in relationships, we have our ups and downs but at the end of the day, we come back to each other."

you could tell chan was about to pull away, before he hesitated and leaned into your touch, "i get that, but, i just, i don't think i can keep up a relationship anymore, i just..." he trailed off. you swallowed thickly, managing out the question you had been dying to ask him, "do you not love me anymore?" his silence told you thousands of words.

the lump in your throat was starting to suffocate you. you felt your eyes welling up as you freed your hands from his grasp, "okay." chan held a guilty expression, "i'm sorry, i'm... i don't-" "it's okay, chan, i understand." with a shaky grip, you handed chan his letter back, “i’ve never read it, nor do i want to. i think it’s best we leave each other at this.” without leaving him room to interject, you stood, wiping the salty tears running down your face, and left him there.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

sitting on the cold plastic chair of the train, you plugged your earphones in, opening your playlist to select a song. another text notification from chan popped up, apologising again even after you had repeated responded with "it's okay"s. you supposed that being with someone for so long, they would know everything about you, including all your tells.

sighing as no song seemed to satisfy you, you unplugged your earphones again before swiping yet another message away. “seems like someone’s trying to text you.” your head swivelled to the voice beside you, startled, “sorry?” he couldn’t have been over the age of 25, with light brown hair and matching brown eyes, a cheeky smirk adoring his smooth face. he was, in a word, gorgeous.

"someone's trying to text you," he repeated, raising an eyebrow. "oh, yeah, it's my ex," you tried to ignore the urge to block him as another vibration came through. "damn, whoever they are really wants you back," he laughed through his nose, amused. you flushed under his gaze, "yeah. i'm not surprised though, he's always been persistent." "is that why you guys broke up?" he leaned back, tilting his head a bit.

"no, he actually broke up with me because he decided he didn't love me anymore." he sucked in a deep breath through his teeth, "yeah, that sucks. how're you handling that, though?" you shrugged, "as good as a person who recently broke out of a 6 year relationship can be." his eyes widened, "6 years? wow." you smiled bitterly. it wasn't uncommon for someone to question your long-term relationship with chan. it was either they were surprised you had lasted this long, or why you weren't married yet.

"hey, i'm not judging. i've just never had such a long relationship. i think my longest one was, i don't know, 3 months," he scratched the back of his head, seemingly conflicted. "ah." you weren't quite sure how to respond to that. "i'm minho," he stretched out his hand for you to shake it. you took it cautiously and replied with your own name. you've never had a stranger randomly introduce himself to you but guess there's a first for everything.

"think we might get along," minho gave you a small smirk. you smiled back weakly. if he ends up like chan...

#bang chan #chan #skz bang chan #bang chan x reader #bang chan x you #christopher bang

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havenwithleeknow · 2 years ago

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Love Me Again

❥ pairing: kim seungmin x female reader ❥ genre: one-shot, angst, fluff, exes to lovers, summer camp!au ❥ warnings: mentions of food & mentions of violence (briefly), shirtless Seungmin in one scene, water balloon fight (let me know if I am missing something) ❥ word count: 7.5k ❥ requested! ❥ summary: Coming back to summer camp was something Y/N was eager to do. But what happens when her ex is also there working as a staff member as well? ❥ A/N: Hello, how are you today? Ok, so I didn't expect to enjoy writing this one-shot so much. Makes me want to write in this au more often, for some reason, I feel like the possibilities are almost endless. Feel free to let me know your thoughts and as always, happy reading!

Your heart jumped from your chest as the bus got closer to the summer camp. This would be your first year as a staff member and you couldn’t be more excited about it. Ever since you were young, you had made it your goal to continue spending your time here, and if it wasn’t as a participant, it would be as one of the responsible ones.

When the bus started to slow down, you stood up from your seat and looked at the group of students behind you, all excited about the adventures that they were about to live, already chatting with each other and trying to make new friends.

“We must keep an eye on those two,” Changbin whispered to you, gesturing with his head to a couple in the back, smiling at each other. “They will try to sneak out into each other cabins and I am not looking forward to that.”

You turned to look at him and patted his shoulder, smiling playfully as your eyes met his.

“Are you ever looking forward to anything?” He didn’t answer. You shrugged and turned your attention to the crowd and your smile widened. “Everyone! We’re here!”

You clapped as they cheered excitedly. Changbin rolled his eyes and exited the bus, and you continued to give instructions to the crowd.

“Changbin and I will be the ones responsible for you so anything you need, you can talk to us. Please, grab your bags and head to the entrance where you’ll be briefed and taken to your cabins. Are you excited?!”

More cheers and claps from the small crowd. They probably thought you were embarrassing, but it didn’t matter. You were just thrilled to be back here even if this time you had more work in store than fun.

After leaving the bus, you were quickly greeted by the fresh breeze of the woods and you saw the summer camp in front of you.

“Ah, it’s nice to be back!” You closed your eyes briefly and took a deep breath, smiling.

The summer camp was located near a small lake where the participants could participate in a couple of activities. It was surrounded by tall trees, making it the greatest place to be during the hot summer days because there was always a soft breeze blowing. At night, things got a little chilly, but that was why you had bonfire nights to keep you warm and to have a good laugh.

“Let’s go.” You looked at Changbin who gestured to your bag next to him. “I want to see if our cabin is as good as they promised it would be.”

“Well, I’m sure it’s not as bad if you have me as your company.” You bumped your shoulder to his and saw him shaking his head.

“I’m already regretting my decision.”

You rolled your eyes and watched a smile appear on Changbin’s face. He liked to pretend he didn’t care and that he was always making you a favour, but you knew he enjoyed your company. He’d softened up eventually, you knew that. Seo Changbin can’t hide his smile for too long, and you enjoyed it when you saw your friend smiling.

The two of you started to walk side by side towards your cabin. It was located near the lake, and it had a privileged view of the big square where most group activities took place. There were a couple more cabins in this area, all belonging to staff.

You waved at some acquaintances and some of them came to greet you with a quick hug, asking you how you were doing, what you had been up to. They were all people you had met throughout the years and all of you were here for a different experience this time. In the distance, you recognized someone you didn’t expect to see around here.

“I can’t believe he came…” You mumbled under your breath, watching as Seungmin greeted everyone with a charming smile, laughing. Changbin quickly stopped what he was doing and lifted his eyes to look at him.

“There’s a story between you two I should know about?” He glanced at you, curious. “Or is he the only person on earth you can’t smile at?”

“We dated. And we broke up. That’s the story.” You cleared your throat and smiled at Changbin.

“Let me know if you’d like me to punch him. Might be fun, who knows? I’m sure I’ll get tired of singing motivational songs by the bonfire and making friendship bracelets at some point so I might resort to violence.”

“Please, tell me you’re joking.” You crossed your arms, slightly concerned. “One of the rules is that under no circumstance should we resort to violence. This is not that kind of place.”

“I am joking, Y/N.” You took a deep breath and he opened the door to your cabin, looking back at you. “But you never know. Too much positivity can make you turn evil.”

“That’s not a real thing. And why would you punch him?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he shrugged and entered your cabin and you followed him, carrying your bag.

“It’s nice.” You scanned the small place and Changbin closed the door, placing the keys near the front door.

The cabin was small, but it had what you needed. A bathroom you’d both have to share, a small living room with a TV with a couple of decoration books, and one bedroom with two beds.

After setting everything at your cabin, the two of you left and started to walk towards the main square of camp where the opening ceremony would happen. You looked at the top of the trees, feeling the sun creeping through the branches, kissing your skin softly.

“Look at the ground, Y/N,” Changbin warned, hands in his pockets. You glanced at him, an eyebrow raised.

“Why-”

You tripped on a fallen branch and lost your balance, struggling for a few seconds before falling to the ground, your knees having an unfortunate and somewhat painful meeting with the dirt. Slowly, you sat on the ground and looked around, your cheeks blushed from the embarrassment.

“Please, tell me no one saw it,” you begged to no one in particular, wiping the dirt from your hands, disappointed that a great outfit had been ruined.

Next to you, Changbin was trying his best not to laugh. You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms, looking at him upset.

“So this makes you want to laugh? This is what you find funny?” He didn’t answer, his laugh only grew louder. “Stop laughing, Changbin. It’s embarrassing.”

“No… No…” He lowered himself next to you, tears leaving his eyes from laughing too hard. “You… You should’ve seen your face, ok? You were all enchanted by the view and then…” His eyes widened in shock and he replicated how you fell, adding as much dramatic flair as he could.

“Ok,” you said, laughing as well. His laugh was contagious, after all. “If that was how I fell, it was pretty funny.”

“It was hilarious, Y/N. Hilarious.” He took a deep breath and tried to contain his laugh, taking a good look at you, smiling softly. “Are you ok, though? Did you get hurt?”

He reached a hand to you, and you leaned on him to stand up, wiping dust and dirt from your outfit, checking all your body parts that had been in contact with the ground earlier.

“I’m… good. My knees might get bruised, but what’s new?”

He softly wiped some dirt from your cheek, avoiding looking into your eyes. You gulped, taken aback by the sudden change in Changbin’s behaviour. He caught a glimpse of surprise in your eyes and gulped, stepping away from you, lowering his eyes.

“You had some hm… dirt on your cheek.” You nodded and watched as he looked to the path behind you, his cheeks turning a soft shade of pink, a shy smile greeting his lips.

Your smile widened as you looked at him, wondering if that smile was because of what had happened or something else. But when you followed Changbin’s gaze, you saw him smiling at someone else, who returned his smile shyly.

And then you saw Seungmin as well. He wasn’t smiling when his eyes found yours, and you recognized that look too well. Regret.

The same look he had given you when you broke up was the same look he was giving you now.

“I’ll get going,” you said to Changbin, your eyes lingering on Seungmin for longer than they should. “I’ll see you at lunch.”

Without waiting for a response, you left his sight and walked towards the main square at a fast pace, your eyes looking at the ground so you wouldn’t trip and fall again, so you could keep as much distance as you could from Seungmin.

At the end of the day, everyone went back to their cabins, but you decided to stay by the bonfire for a little longer. You and a couple of other staff members stayed behind to get everything ready for the next morning, and you enjoyed chatting with them all and getting to know people you didn’t know that well. It was great discovering you had things in common with people who just a few hours ago were strangers to you.

After you were done, you decided to go for a small walk before heading back to your cabin. It had been a good first day, even if it was tiring, but it wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be.

The paths near the camp were softly lit by small floor lights and all the signals were brighter than anything else around you. There was one with a couple of indications and a map of the summer camp and you noticed how big this was. As you glanced at it, you remembered some of your memories here from previous years.

You continued your walk through some of the activity rooms where they taught dance and art classes, and a new space where they could play some videogames. You’d have to pass by here some other day to see what all the fuss was about.

Finally, you reached the lake deck and walked towards the end of it, seating near its edge, watching the water that merged with the darkness around it, the trees’ shape contrasting with the starred sky above you. Here, the stars shined the brightest and their beauty was captivating. You sighed and laid down on the deck, trying to identify the constellations above.

This had been the place Seungmin brought you often when you were dating last year. The two of you would lay next to each other and talk for as long as you could before getting caught. Of course, you always found ways to sneak out and meet here late at night.

Part of you missed the old you. The one that wasn’t heartbroken, the one that didn’t long to be loved again. The one that was naïve and that didn’t know much about love, but that was willing to try anyway. You were silly and madly in love, but you forgave yourself. After all, people end up getting their hearts broken sooner or later.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, trying your best to not think too much about it. This year, you wanted to have fun and create great memories, you weren’t looking forward to having another bitter year like the last one.

Behind you, you heard steps that slowed down the closer they got to you. You opened your eyes and sat again, looking back to find Seungmin scratching the back of his head, avoiding your gaze on him.

“I didn’t know you were here,” he said apologetically, stepping back and forward, unsure of what to do. He took a deep breath and looked at you, studying your expression. “How have you been?”

You pulled your knees close to your chest and looked up at him. He was taller and he was also more handsome. One year makes a difference on the outside, but inside you were still struggling with your breakup.

“Fine. You?”

“I’m not doing that great.” He sighed, a sad chuckle escaping his lips. You could tell he was struggling with whatever was bothering him. Even if you wanted to turn a blind eye to him, you couldn’t. You may not be together anymore, but you still cared about him. You’d always care about him.

“That’s why you came here? To… unwind?”

He nodded and you moved to the side, giving him space to join you. Slowly, Seungmin walked towards you and sat down, his eyes looking at the distance, but you couldn’t avoid looking at him. It was the first time you were alone with him since your breakup and that hit you like a ton of bricks.

A soft sigh escaped your lips and you turned to the lake in front of you, wondering if you should leave or not. Part of you missed this, the comfort, the safety of being in his presence. You had looked for it in other people, but no one ever made you feel like he did.

“I… didn’t think you’d come back here…” You whispered under your breath, your heart sinking in your chest.

“But I did,” he admitted, turning his face to look at you, hope in his eyes. “And so did you.”

“That was expected, though.” You stretched your legs and leaned back, supporting your weight in your hands. “I love this place. Good things happened here.”

He nodded, a soft smile on his lips.

“What we had was great, wasn’t it?”

You gulped, trying your best to hide your true feelings, to hide that you weren’t still over him, to hide how painful it was to be this close to him and have to accept the fact that he was no longer yours. But when he looked you in the eyes, all that build-up strength came crashing down.

“It was more than great,” you started, your voice failing you. “It was… wonderful.”

You shared so much with him and when you looked at him, as much as you wanted to despise him for breaking your heart, you couldn’t. It just wasn’t in your nature.

“I regret that, you know?” He took a deep breath, eyes focusing on the soft waves around the deck. “The way I… ended things. Seeing you again… I wasn’t expecting to feel sad. Part of me wishes I could be the reason behind your smile and that thought kept coming back to me today.” Seungmin shook his head. “I’m… sorry I’m saying these things to you. I… I’ll get going.”

You nodded and watched as he stood up from the ground, fixing his shorts and jacket afterwards. Part of you was taken aback by his words, by his vulnerability. After you broke up, you never thought you’d get to glimpse him in this light again, to be the one he’d be honest with, share his raw feelings with.

“Don’t go.” The words escaped your lips, surprising you and him. You cleared your throat and stood up, wiping your hands on your clothes. “I… should be the one going. You need this more than I do. Goodnight.”

Slowly, you made your way out of the deck, your eyes looking at your feet, your thoughts stuck in your throat, demanding you to let them out. You shook your head and took a deep breath and stopped, turning around to look at Seungmin. He was looking right back at you, lips slightly parted.

You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t just walk away like this as if you were ok with what was happening. With fast steps, you walked back, stopping in front of Seungmin. Now, you were close to him. You had to close your fists so they wouldn’t go towards his neck and pull him closer to you.

“I am struggling… too.” His eyes found yours and you didn’t look away. “I thought I’d come here and that I wouldn’t… be reminded of you, of… us. But the truth is, I loved what we had. I loved it to the point where I still hold onto it, to the point where I hope that maybe it will come back, or that I’ll find it with someone else, but I don’t, I don’t think it will. I also want you to be the reason why I smile, Seungmin. But right now, you’re the reason behind my tears.”

When you realized what you had said, your fists relaxed, and calmness took over you. Those were your honest, raw, vulnerable feelings all on display for him to witness, for him to know. You didn’t have to hide them anymore, you didn’t have to pretend you were fine. You weren’t.

Seungmin opened his mouth to speak but no sound came out of it. Instead, he just looked at you in despair, probably mirroring your expression, looking for something he didn’t find. He shook his head and slowly walked away from you, scratching the back of his head, shoving his hands on the pockets of his jacket, not stopping when he reached the beaten path back to camp.

Maybe this hadn’t been the right thing to do or say, but it sure felt freeing. And right now, you’d try to focus on that while you wiped the silent tears that fell from your eyes.

If there was one event you enjoyed participating in during summer camp it was the summer games Olympics. It was an activity that lasted for the entirety of the last week of camp and everyone participated in what they considered to be the best at. You always avoided participating, since you didn’t consider yourself particularly good at anything, but you found ways to help and cheer for everyone. This year, however, Changbin decided to surprise you.

“I signed us up for a water balloon fight.” He raised a finger before you opened your mouth to protest. “We’ll be playing against Seungmin and his… partner.”

“What happened?” Changbin simply shrugged and passed you a helmet. “Weren’t you hitting things off with her?”

“She just wants a summer fling, I want something serious.” He looked at you struggling with your helmet and shook his head. “Let me fix that for you.”

“Tell me this isn’t to make her jealous. I am tired of that.” You crossed your arms and looked at Changbin as he carefully adjusted your helmet to your head. Afterwards, he looked at you and winked. You raised an eyebrow in confusion. “What was that for?”

“Seungmin was looking. Thought I’d spite him a little bit so I can laugh more when they lose.”

“We’re no longer together, Changbin. And please, don’t make it more awkward than it has to be.”

“You’re not on good terms yet?” He asked, studying your expression. “I thought things were moving in a positive direction.”

“They are…” You took a deep breath and looked at Seungmin, his eyes narrowed on you and Changbin. “But there’s still a lot of… feelings here.”

Changbin nodded and moved away from you, causing Seungmin to change his gaze to you. He gulped as he looked into your eyes, and you tried to smile, but it came out too forced.

Truth was, Seungmin and you were trying to at least be cordial with each other. But what you had shared was still far greater for both of you to ignore. Sometimes, you’d find yourself admiring him, or leaning his way, or wanting to grab his hand and kiss his cheek only to realize what you were about to do which caused you to panic slightly. He still made you feel comfortable and safe, despite everything. You thought those emotions wouldn’t be there, but they still were.

Someone blew a whistle in the distance and you and Changbin walked to the line in the middle of the field and Seungmin and his teammate did the same.

“I’m going to repeat the rules,” the arbiter said, glancing between both teams. “You can’t hit the head. You can’t use an opponent or team member as a shield, and you can’t throw more than one balloon at once. The game ends when there are no more balloons or when a team calls it quits. The team that has been hit the least wins. Questions or concerns?” Everyone shook their heads, and the arbiter blew the whistle again. “Get to your places. Remember, you can’t pass the red lines on the grass.”

“Got it!” Changbin started to walk away, and you looked at Seungmin one last time, and he smiled at you.

“Good luck.”

“You know I suck at this, so I appreciate it.” You placed your hand on his shoulder and smiled. “If you wouldn’t mind, let Changbin win. He is trying to prove a point.”

“I’ll consider your request. But that means I’ll aim at you only.”

“Then we’ll lose because I’m not great at dodging or running away.”

He laughed and your smile widened. Suddenly, you realized what was happening and you cleared your throat, taking your hand from his shoulder, looking away from him. Seungmin chuckled.

“You’re pretty good at running away from your feelings, though.”

You looked at him with an eyebrow raised and watched as he walked away, glancing back to look at you.

“Y/N!” Changbin called and you got back to reality.

“Coming!”

At a fast pace, you made your way back to Changbin who extended you a water balloon, a worried look on his face.

“What did he tell you? You know, you should never talk to your opponents before a big game, Y/N! That’s such a rookie mistake!”

“We’re going to win,” you said to Changbin, certainty in your voice. “So we can prove them wrong.”

“And what are we going to prove Seungmin wrong?” He raised an eyebrow but you didn’t answer him.

“What’s the plan?” You felt the weight of the water balloon in your hand. “Do you focus on one of them or…?”

“I’ll focus on Seungmin and you focus on her. Got it?”

“Got it!” The two of you got into your positions and you rolled back your shoulders, warming up your neck area.

Even if you didn’t win, you at least hoped you could hit one of them with a balloon. That would make you proud and satisfied with all of this.

“Ready? Set? And…” He blew the whistle.

Quickly, everyone around started to cheer and scream, waiting to see what would happen. You got stuck on your feet and didn’t move. You watched as your opponent threw a balloon at you, hitting your feet.

“One point for the blue team!” The arbiter moved the counter and the opposite team now had a point.

“Y/N!” Changbin called, frustrated. “Move, please. Don’t just stand-“

He didn’t finish because Seungmin also hit him with a balloon.

“Two points for the blue team!”

“I thought you were going to hit me,” you screamed at Seungmin who shrugged.

“Maybe he wants to hit on you, Y/N.” Someone screamed from the sidelines and laughed, causing your eyes to widen in panic.

After a deep breath, you took a few steps forward, so you got closer to the line and threw a balloon, hitting Seungmin in the arm when he was distracted high fiving his teammate. He looked at you shocked and you shrugged.

“Guess my aim got better.”

Changbin didn’t waste any time and threw another balloon, hitting Seungmin once again.

“That’s what I’m talking about, baby!” He said and high fived you, grabbing a new water balloon from the basket.

“Two points for the yellow team, both teams are tied!”

The game went on for a while and you got better at it, but you also got hit a couple of times. The one that seemed to excel at this was Changbin who effortlessly dodged all balloons and whoever he aimed at, was never able to escape.

“There’s a tie!” The arbiter announced and you looked at your basket where only a couple of balloons remained.

“May the best team win,” Changbin said and extended you the last balloon, a devilish smile on his lips. “Put all of you into this last throw.”

“That sounds a little dramatic and excessive.”

“Well, all of this is a bit dramatic and excessive, don’t you think?” He winked at you and you simply rolled your eyes, walking back to your position.

You were all covered in water from head to toes, the clothes sticking to your bodies, but drying quickly under the hot sun. After this, you needed a swim at the lake because the cold water would be so refreshing. It was too hot today.

Changbin signalled at you and you followed his advice, putting everything you had into this throw. You aimed for Seungmin once more, your eyes looking into his for a brief second and when the water balloon left your hand, it hit him on his torso with a strong impact. He fell with his hands on his stomach, a painful look on his face.

“Seungmin? You ok?”

“Let him be, Y/N. He’s exaggerating!” Changbin said and rolled his eyes, throwing his last balloon, hitting Seungmin’s teammate.

“Two points for the yellow team! They’re currently winning.”

You kept your gaze on Seungmin as he laid on the ground, screaming in pain.

“Time-out!” You asked the arbiter and ran towards Seungmin, lowering yourself next to him. “What happened? Where does it hurt?”

Slowly, you helped him sit, your eyes going over his features, looking for any signs of distress. Maybe you had put too much of yourself in that last throw.

“I’m… fine.” He tried to take a deep breath but bit his lower lip in pain. “It hurts.”

“Where?” You tried not to panic, but your voice gave it away. “Do you want to go to the infirmary? I can take you.”

“And the game? Don’t you want to win?”

You shook your head. “Winning is not important. Can you stand up, at least?”

He shook his head and you waved at Changbin who reluctantly joined the two of you.

“What’s up?” He asked, glancing at Seungmin. “Is he ok?”

“I need your help. Can you help him get up?”

“Me?” He pointed to himself and you nodded. Changbin took a deep breath and rolled his eyes. “Are you seriously buying into his crap? Y/N, it was a water balloon.”

You rolled your eyes. “Can you help me or not?! If not, I’ll just go get someone else.”

Changbin crossed his arms and looked down at Seungmin. He kept his frown on when Seungmin looked at him with pleading eyes.

“Just help me stand. Y/N can…” he closed his eyes and tried to take a deep breath, “she can take me to the infirmary.”

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” You opened your mouth to protest but Changbin rolled his eyes, signalling you to calm down. “I’ll help the sensitive prince up.”

“Why are you being such a brat?” You asked Changbin. He ignored you and glared at Seungmin before placing his arm around his shoulder. With his other arm, you did the same and slowly, you helped Seungmin up.

Changbin got rid of him as quickly as he could and looked at you as you tried to balance yourself with Seungmin next to you, an arm around his torso as his arm was around your shoulders.

“Call me if you need anything,” Changbin said, looking at you. “And I’m not being a brat, I am just… looking out for you.”

“Thank you.” You smiled at him. “Let me know if we won, will you?”

“Of course.”

Slowly, you and Seungmin started to walk out of the field, everyone’s eyes on you. You passed by the teen that had made the hit on you comment and glared at his playful smile.

“I am helping you as a friend.” You didn’t believe a word you were saying, and you knew he didn’t either. Seungmin could easily tell when you were lying.

He stopped and you stood next to him, waiting for him to catch his breath. His eyes were still on you, but you avoided them by looking at your surroundings like the top of the trees, the cabins in the distance, the pavement below your feet.

“Say it to my face, then.” He spoke softly and you turned to look at him, your heart sinking in your chest. “Say that… you’re doing this because you only see me as a friend and nothing more.”

“That’s not what I said, though. I said I am helping you as a friend. Which I am.”

Even though you said it looking into his eyes, part of you couldn’t help but want to say more, to add to what you just said, to answer his question. But what would that do?

“It’s almost the end of the summer camp,” you whispered, glancing at his lips. “If anything happened right now, it would end in a couple of days, just like last time. You said it yourself, you don’t do long-distance relationships. Can we keep walking?”

Why would you bring that up? It had nothing to do with what you were talking about, with what he was asking you. But maybe, in that statement was the answer he wanted, the answer he didn’t expect. You might have not said it word by word, but he could read in between the lines.

He slowly nodded and looked away from you, hurt in his eyes. “Sure. Let’s go.”

You sat at a bench outside the infirmary, watching as every attendee of the summer camp waited to enter the cafeteria and have lunch. In between your fingers, you twirled a small flower you had caught in a nearby bush, plucking its petals one by one to pass the time and to distract yourself from your thoughts.

A soft breeze greeted your skin and you shivered, the clothes on your body still wet from the water balloon fight. You thought about going to your cabin to get changed but opted by staying here and waiting for Seungmin.

After what felt like a long time, the infirmary door opened and he walked outside with his shirt over his shoulder, his chest bare.

“How bad?” You asked, seeing a soft red bruise over where his stomach was. “I’m sorry I did that. Might’ve gotten too invested in the game.”

“They said I’ll be fine, that what I felt was momentary, but that I should be vigilant.”

“Good to know.” You stood up from the bench and looked at him. “Do you need anything else?”

“I’m good now. Thank you.”

“Ok, then.” You slowly started to walk backwards, keeping your eyes on him. “I’ll… get going, then.”

When he didn’t answer, you took a deep breath and turned around, head looking at your feet so you wouldn’t trip on any fallen branches again. It was fun the first time, but it would be embarrassing if you fell again.

“Y/N?”

“Yes?” You turned around to look at him, your voice a little anxious. He took slow steps towards you, never breaking eye contact.

“I was stupid for breaking up with you.”

“Let’s not go there again, Seungmin.” You shook your head, worried. “I thought we were over this.”

“But are we?” He chuckled. “I don’t think we are. We are constantly diminishing ourselves in each other’s presence afraid we’ll do something wrong because we still care for each other.”

“We care for each other, Seungmin. But we don’t love each other anymore. Those two feelings are different, they are not the same.” You tried to keep calm, but everything inside of you crashed violently the more you stared at him.

“But I still love you, Y/N. Can’t you see that?!”

“Seungmin, don’t do this to me. Just don’t, ok?” You shook your head trying to make sense of what was happening. “You tell me this and then when summer camp is over, what will you do? Because last time, you told me we would last outside of this place and then what happened? That’s right. You broke up with me.”

“I was dumb, stupid, a reckless fool. I didn’t know what I wanted. I… I thought it would be for the best.”

“And do you know what you want now?” You crossed your arms, your mind dizzy. “What do you want, Seungmin? We’ll never be like how we were before. That innocence we had, that excitement, that… love… All of that changed now. We’ve changed.”

“You know what being apart from you taught me?” He took a few more steps towards you, fixing the shirt resting on his shoulder. “I’d rather be away from you knowing we’re together because no matter how far away from each other we are, I would always love you.”

“Seungmin…” You gulped, hoping that the sob building up in your throat would go down but instead you were left speechless. Right now, nothing made sense to you. Why would he say this to you, didn’t he know how much you had suffered because of him? You didn’t want that again.

“I want us to try again,” he whispered, his eyes getting watery. “That’s what I want. More than anything else.”

“I…” The words didn’t come out, no matter how much you tried. You loved him too and you wanted to try as well, but you were too terrified, too scarred from what had happened in the past.

Nothing could guarantee he wouldn’t break your heart again. You could tell he meant it but until when? As far as you knew, he could change his mind on the last day of summer camp, telling you that it wouldn’t work. And then, what? He wouldn’t be the one dealing with your broken heart, you would have to make it whole again.

“Give me some time to think. Please.”

“I will,” he nodded. “Take all the time you need, I’ll be waiting. And know that I’ll respect your decision, no matter what it is.”

“Thank you.”

Without exchanging any more words, you parted ways with him and walked back to your cabin to get changed and tried to make some sense of where your true feelings stood.

The final event at summer camp was your absolute favourite and now that you were a staff member, everything was even better. The cafeteria had been changed for the small dance party with the tables against the walls with all kinds of food and drinks for the participants.

The walls had been decorated with fairy lights that gave the entire space a mythical feeling where laughs and conversations filled the room with loud music. Near the DJ booth stood a board where participants went to leave small messages about their time here and what they had enjoyed the most. You loved going over them and reading what had stood out to each of them, a smile greeting your lips when you remembered the moments mentioned.

“Your turn,” Changbin extended a piece of paper and a pen your way, smiling. “I already wrote mine, so now you have to write yours as well.”

You bit your lip and shook your head. “I’ll write it, just… not yet.”

“I don’t trust you on that.” He grabbed your hand and put the piece of paper and the pen on top. “Write something, like I enjoyed my cabin partner or, I threw a water balloon and won a game against my ex! Something fun and exciting.”

“That is so fun and exciting.” You rolled your eyes and opened the pen, scribbling something down on the paper. When you were done, you turned it and showed it to him. “What do you think?”

“Looking forward to working here again next year? Really, Y/N?”

You shrugged as you grabbed two pins to hang your pieces of paper next to each other on the board.

“You forced me to write so I wrote the first thing that popped into my head. And for all its worth, I will be here again next year. You?”

“You bet!” The two of you high fived and laughed afterwards. “I like it more as a staff member than as a participant. I get to do more things and I can sleep with whoever I want in the cabin.”

“You only slept with me in the cabin, though.” You looked at him, concerned. “Right?”

He shrugged. “There were instances where you weren’t in the cabin…”

“Changbin… are you serious?” You crossed your arms, appalled. “Is there anything I should know for tonight?”

“I’m kidding, Y/N. But next time, I’ll make sure to let you know.” He winked at you playfully causing you to roll your eyes. “Let’s go dance. We’ve been walking around for too long.”

Following Changbin’s suggestion, the two of you walked away from the board and went to the dancefloor, slowly enjoying the music and laughing at each other. Your eyes scanned the crowd and you looked for Seungmin, to no avail. He wasn’t near the board, or suggesting songs to the DJ, or even enjoying some of the food. And on the dance floor, you didn’t see his face.

“He’s not coming,” Changbin said over the loud music and you stopped dancing.

“Seungmin’s not coming?” He shook his head.

“He said he wasn’t feeling it and decided to stay at his cabin.”

“Oh.” You were disappointed, to say the least. After all, you had dressed up nicely and expected to enjoy this final night with him and tell him your answer. “I’ll go find him.”

Without paying attention to Changbin’s protest, you made your way out of the cafeteria, the cold and the darkness of the night taking over you. Quickly, you made your way to his cabin and knocked on the door, glancing through the windows to find the entire place with the lights off.

“Seungmin?” You called his name after knocking again. “Are you in there?”

No response. You tried calling him on your phone, but it went to voicemail. After knocking on his door a couple more times, you decided to look for him somewhere else.

The deck near the lake.

In the dark, you kept a fast pace as you walked, the crickets and the night breeze clashing with your thoughts and footsteps on the beaten track. You didn’t slow down, and at some point, you realized you were running.

Finally, you reached the deck and saw Seungmin’s figure in the distance, throwing rocks into the water. You stopped to catch your breath, your heart jumping in your chest.

This should’ve been the first place you should have looked for him. He always came here when he was stressed or worried, and you were sure that was the reason why he was here right now. After all, tomorrow everyone would go back to their homes and you still hadn’t given him an answer.

You fixed your outfit and took a deep breath, walking slowly towards him. Even if you wanted to be silent, your steps echoed in the wood below your feet, some of it creaking as you stepped on it.

Seungmin threw one more rock before slowly turned around to find you walking towards him, lowering his arm when he recognized you.

“I came to look for you,” you said when you were close to him. “You weren’t at the party…”

“I didn’t feel like going,” he admitted, his eyes looking at you from head to toes, a soft smile on his lips. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

“Thank you.”

You walked closer to him and stopped by his side, looking at what was presented in front of you two. The darkness was overwhelming, and it reminded you of the unknown, of what you wanted to know, but didn’t dare to question.

But that was about to change.

“One year ago, you… broke up with me at that party. I had never felt anything like it. I didn’t understand it. If what we had was good, then why ruin it? I was willing to do everything, I had even talked with my parents about organizing trips to go and see you. But then you… said what we had wasn’t worth it and I was gutted. Devastated.”

You turned to face him, seeing the sorrow in his expression as you tried to contain your own.

“I tried to… be with other people. To find what we had somewhere else, to give my love to someone else. But I realized that I was still hung up on what we had. Because what we had was the best I ever had. And when you loved me, you loved me so well. And I have been longing for that love ever since I stopped having it.”

Seungmin was uncertain of what to do. His mouth was open as to speak, but he didn’t say anything. He moved forward with his arms slightly raised but stopped, returning to his original position. You wiped the tears from your eyes and tried to smile.

“This summer I was looking for closure. I came here to close the cycle, to allow myself to finally move on, and to… to come to terms with the fact that what we had was great, but it wasn’t coming back, that you had moved on and so should I. But then you told me you wanted to try again. That you wanted to give us another chance. And I was terrified that we’d end up in the same place we were last year. Breaking up and drifting apart.”

“I wouldn’t let that happen again, Y/N,” Seungmin whispered as he moved closer to you, his hand finding your cheek, caressing it softly. “I wouldn’t let that happen.”

You nodded, your hand finding his on your cheek, your heart picking up the pace. It had been so long since you’d been this close to each other, since you felt his touch.

“How can you be so sure of that?” You asked, afraid of the answer. Words came easy to Seungmin, but actions were something entirely different.

“Because I’ll give you everything I’ve got. Everything.” He licked his lips and stepped closer to you, glancing at your lips before meeting your eyes. “I won’t quit on us. Not while I believe we can work, not while I know that we’re both committed to making this work. I know it won’t be easy, but this time I won’t tell you I don’t want to try. Right now, that’s all I want. For us to try, for us to be together, for us to… love each other again.”

“And how would we do this?” You gulped. “We would still be apart, Seungmin.”

“I’d go and visit you,” he started, certain of his words. “We could facetime every other day and text each other. And you could come and visit me as well. I… I have been thinking about this for a while. We failed because I quit before giving our relationship a chance. Let’s not do that again.”

Even though you wanted to answer him, there were no words to express what you were feeling. You were staring back at him, and you saw hope in his eyes, the pleading nature of his expression. He wanted this. This wasn’t just Seungmin saying things for the sake of it. He meant all of it. He believed in what he was saying to you.

He believed you could love each other again. And right now, you believed that too.

“Let’s… try.”

He took a deep breath, a relieved smile reaching his lips.

You took a step closer to him, feeling his body against yours, the familiarity of it all surrounding you in warmth. He leaned his head closer to yours and you kissed. Even after being apart all this time, you still remembered the taste of his lips on yours, the softness and care with which he kissed you, how his hair felt in between your fingers, how his hands held your waist and pulled you closer.

“I missed you,” he whispered in between your kisses, glancing at your eyes. “I missed you so much.”

You pulled him closer and kissed him again, your hands going down the back of his head towards his neck, resting on his shoulders. When you pulled apart to catch your breath, you couldn’t hide the smile on your face.

“Let’s go.” He let go of your waist and you extended him a hand and he held it, intertwining your fingers.

“Where?” Seungmin asked as you walked away from the lake and towards the cafeteria.

“I won’t let you skip the party. It’s the most important event of summer camp.”

He laughed and you leaned closer to him, a bright smile on your face. You had missed this as well. You had missed looking at him and seeing the world in him, you had missed being able to hold his hands and call him your boyfriend, you had missed Seungmin a lot.

But now, now you had the chance to love each other again. And you weren’t going to quit this time. You were going to give him your all as well. It wouldn’t be easy, but it would be worth it.

Please, like/reblog this if you enjoy reading it and let me know your thoughts, I’m always appreciative of your feedback! ©mxxndreams 2021 Copying, reposting, translating and/or modifications of my work is strictly prohibited. Moodboard images from Pinterest. I do not own the rights to any of them, credit goes to rightful owners. If any of the images featured is yours, please reach out to me so I can properly credit it or remove it.

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