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wongyuseokie · 1 day ago

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Theories & Heartstrings | k.m.g

Chapter 3: Fucked Up, Still Falling

Summary: As a writer with a mildly cynical take on love, you’ve always believed people have a “type”—a pattern they never stray from when it comes to dating. And Kim Mingyu? He’s the textbook definition of someone who wouldn’t go for someone like you, nor would you go for him. But you test your theory when a fateful run-in with your charming neighbour sparks an unexpected attraction.

The plan? Go on dates with him and count how many it takes before your heart gets involved—if it ever does. But Mingyu is unpredictable, effortlessly breaking down your carefully constructed walls with every smile, every late-night conversation, every moment that feels too easy to be just an experiment.

The real problem? Secrets never stay secrets for long. And when Mingyu finds out the truth behind your so-called theory, will it prove you right, or that love doesn’t follow the rules you thought it did?

☆ 18+ minors dni |☀︎fluff | ☁︎ angst | ♕smut

Word Count: 15,457

Pairings: Neighbor! Mingyu x Journalist! Female Reader

Genre/Trope(s)/AU(s): Neighbours AU! Fake Dating AU! (but only one is fake dating. It’ll make sense when you read it, lol). Non-Idol AU!.

Content Warnings: yelling, swearing, LOTS OF ANGST HOLY COW shit really hit the fan here. Mingyu is very sad and angry (rightfully so) cheol is very very mean, but its warranted, hoshi is mean but not as bad more bitchy than mean. seokmin is snippy but sunshine cant ever be truly cruel. Smut Warnings: no smut actually, suggestive sure, but no sex mentions of anal sex its more jokey but none of it. lots of kissing, fingering (but its not y/n) dun dun. Author's Note 1: I'd be remiss if I didn't thank the lovely people who helped beta this monster of a story. thank you @lovetaroandtaemin @nebulousbrainsoup @strxwberry-skiess for your patience time and love thank you guys so much!! Author's Note 2: welp here it is guys my last fic, ever, but good news, this is only chapter 2, and the rate at which i keep increasing my word count, it'll be a while before this is all over. Series Masterlist

That evening, your bedroom was a mess of indecision.

Three dresses lay crumpled on the bed, all rejected for reasons that now felt trivial. Too safe. Too bold. Too pink. Too much like the last time you tried too hard.

You stared at yourself in the mirror, bare-faced and half-dressed, clutching a blouse by the hanger like it might whisper the answer to your dilemma.

“Why am I like this?” You muttered under your breath, heart already fluttering with a mix of anticipation and dread.

Tonight was a date. A real one. With Mingyu.

And you wanted it to be perfect. You needed it to be.

Your fingers fumbled with the delicate clasp of your necklace, the one Mingyu once complimented offhandedly—the one you hadn’t worn in months.

He made you feel... like maybe things could be different.

But even as you spritzed perfume along your collarbone and fluffed your freshly styled hair, the undercurrent of guilt pulsed just beneath the surface.

He didn’t know. Not yet.

About the article. About how much you’d withheld. About everything that came before the version of you he was finally getting to know.

You’d planned to tell him. You would tell him.

Just... not yet. Not tonight.

You needed this evening. One moment where things felt light again. Where the flutter in your chest was excitement and not fear. Where his gaze stayed soft and adoring and not clouded by betrayal.

You just needed one more night.

With trembling hands, you smoothed down the front of your dress and gave yourself a once-over in the mirror.

“You’ve got this,” you whispered.

And maybe, for just a few hours, you could believe it.

“Wow,” Joshua said, eyes widening as you stepped into the living room. “You clean up… shockingly well.”

You smirked, smoothing down the front of your satin dress. “I’m taking that as a compliment.”

“I mean it,” he said, placing a hand on his chest dramatically. “I’ve never seen you look so—wait, is that contour?”

“Shua,” you warned, grabbing your purse.

He grinned. “Okay, okay. You look gorgeous. Just—please tell him tonight.”

Your smile faltered. “What about tomorrow? I just want to bask in tonight, it might be the last time he wants to be around me. I promise, just give me tonight and I’ll tell him.”

“You keep saying that,” he replied gently. “And the longer you wait, the worse it’s going to feel.”

You glanced down at your heels, then at the tiny clutch in your hands, where the journal—a condensed version of your article draft—was tucked beneath your lipstick and phone. “Just… let me have this night. One last perfect date.”

Joshua didn’t say anything else. He just stood up and kissed your forehead. “Then go get your perfect date, bub.”

When the knock came at the door, you inhaled sharply before opening it.

Mingyu stood there in a crisp, charcoal suit, holding a single sunflower. “Hi.”

You blinked. “You wore a suit.”

“You said fancy,” he replied, extending the flower with a sheepish smile. “And you look… beautiful.”

You took the flower and gave him a bashful smile. “You clean up alright too.”

“Alright?” He scoffed. “I wore cologne for this.”

You laughed, letting him lead you down the hallway. His fingers found yours the moment you stepped into the elevator, and the silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was comfortable, and warm.

Still, the journal in your clutch weighed heavier than ever.

“Okay, no hints?” You asked as you slipped into his car.

“None,” he said, grinning as he pulled out of the parking lot. “But I will say this—you’ve never been to this place.”

Mingyu’s car smelled like him — something warm and clean and distinctly comforting. He played music as he drove, humming along quietly.

“This song’s cute,” you said, smiling as the melody filled the space between you.

“I thought you'd like it,” he replied, sneaking a glance at you. “Do you want me to sing it to you someday?”

You grinned. “You sing?”

“Only in the shower. Or when I’m drunk. Or when I think you won’t hear.”

“Maybe I’ll catch you one day,” you teased. Then, softer, “I’d like that.”

The rest of the drive was warm and easy, and you found yourself leaning toward him even without meaning to. Everything felt so natural — his jokes, the way he opened your door, the way he pulled you close when you walked toward the restaurant.

And then you saw where he’d brought you.

“Wait. This place is—Mingyu, it’s fancy-fancy.”

He smiled sheepishly. “I said dress fancy, didn’t I?”

“You also said you weren’t trying to impress me.”

“I lied.” He held the door open with a dramatic bow. “I’m trying to impress the hell out of you.”

Your heart swelled. And cracked.

Over candlelight and wine, you let yourself enjoy the night. Mingyu was in his element — charming, attentive, funny. You kept catching yourself staring, forgetting the food in front of you entirely.

“So,” he said between bites of risotto, “on a scale of one to ten… how good of a date am I?”

You choked a little, caught off guard. “What?”

Mingyu smirked. “Come on. You’re a journalist. I’m sure you rate everything.”

You forced a laugh. “Please, I only rate movies and bad exes.”

He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “What if I want to be rated?”

You tilted your head. “Dangerous request.”

“Hit me with it.”

You looked at him for a long moment. Everything in you wanted to say ten. But your throat tightened and the number stuck in your chest like a stone.

“Solid… nine,” you managed, lifting your wine glass to cover your mouth.

He gasped. “Nine? What the hell do I have to do for a ten?”

You laughed. “You’ll figure it out. You’re annoyingly good at that.”

Mingyu grinned and leaned over the table. “I’ll earn it. Just wait.”

You smiled back, but the weight of your secret pulled a little heavier.

You spent the weekend scribbling in your journal like it was a secret lab notebook. Bullet points. Observations. Emotional barometers. You even rated the dates, which—when said out loud—sounded ridiculous. But somehow, it helped. Date one: a six. Sweet, funny, respectful. He kissed you. You left out the part where his hands were on your hips for half the movie and your thigh was slotted between his.

You were trying to be scientific about it. But there was no method for what was happening to your heart.

And the worst part? He still didn’t know.

“How’s the story going?” Keira peeked over your shoulder, her iced coffee in hand and her voice low.

“Is that a hickey?”

You slammed your laptop shut with a yelp. “Keira.”

She grinned. “Relax. I’m just saying, if you’re going over to his place today, maybe wear a scarf. Or concealer. Or both.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s fine.”

“He gave you that hickey?”

You didn’t answer. Keira smirked. “His lips do look soft.”

You laughed nervously. “They are.”

She wiggled her eyebrows. “Use protection, Hemingway.” ~~

Later that evening, you flung your arms around Mingyu’s neck as he lifted you off the ground with a grunt.

“Koala mode activated,” he teased, carrying you inside.

“Mingyu what time do you need me at the gallery tomorrow? You said you needed help moving some stuff right around right for your showcase?”

Mingyu pondered for a second, “maybe around 4?”

“Cool, anyway, you lovebirds, keep it PG,” Seungcheol muttered as he passed by, smirking over his bowl of pasta.

You giggled and buried your face in Mingyu’s shoulder. The scent of him, faintly earthy and warm, made your stomach flip. Mingyu carried you straight to his room, and neither of you seemed particularly interested in leaving it.

The door to Mingyu’s room barely clicked shut before you were on each other.

His hands cupped your jaw as he pulled you into a kiss—hot, urgent, toe-curling. You barely had time to catch your breath before his mouth was on yours again, one hand already sliding beneath the hem of your dress.

“You’re sure?” he asked against your lips, his voice already thick with want.

You nodded, tugging his shirt up in answer. “Off. Now.”

He chuckled softly, but obeyed, yanking the shirt over his head and tossing it aside. His chest was warm against your palms, all firm lines and soft skin, and you couldn’t stop your hands from roaming.

“God, you’re unreal,” you muttered.

“Right back at you,” he said, already working on the zipper of your dress.

Clothes came off in between kisses and breathless laughter, piece by piece—your dress hitting the floor, his jeans half-kicked off before he stepped out of them entirely. By the time you tumbled onto his bed, you were down to just your bra and panties, and he was in nothing but his boxers, hovering over you with flushed cheeks and heavy-lidded eyes.

And still kissing you like he couldn’t get enough.

“You never told me you had a showcase,” you murmured later as you lay on his chest, slightly breathless from the makeout session your fingers absentmindedly tracing the curve of his biceps.

He shrugged. “Didn’t know if you’d want to come.”

You looked up at him. “I’d love to. You know I’d love to.”

His ears pinked at your earnestness. “It’s not much. Just a small gallery set-up. Some portraits, mostly candid stuff. I’ve been working on this series of people mid-laugh.”

“That’s adorable,” you whispered and meant it.

Mingyu ran his hand down your back, fingertips grazing the base of your spine. “You have a very nice butt,” he said, dropping a kiss on your shoulder.

You turned, smirking. “Do you plan to fuck it?”

His face went crimson. “Hey! That’s unfair.”

“Why? I’m merely asking questions.”

“You’re mean.”

You rolled onto your back, stretching. “Do you remember that night in the shower? After the party, when you touched me there…it felt so fucking good.”

Mingyu groaned and immediately rolled away from you. “Nope. No. We’re not doing this.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

He stood, pulling on his sweatpants like it was armour. “I already broke the rule once. We said no sex until we’re ready, and I want to do this right.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You realise all I’m wearing is my bra and panties?”

He winced. “You’re killing me.”

You sat up. “So what? You just want me to deal with it? Touch myself and journal about it later?”

The words spilled out before you could stop them, and Mingyu’s head jerked toward you.

Oh no. You hated the way it sounded. You could feel it—the guilt slowly bubbling under your ribs like carbonated dread.

“I didn’t mean—”

“I know,” he interrupted. “I’m sorry for snapping. I just… I really like you, okay?”

You softened. “Let’s make a new rule: no more dates at anyone’s house until we’re ready to break all the rules.”

He smiled and tugged you back to bed. “Deal.”

You curled into his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear. And yet, your mind was elsewhere. On your laptop, your notes, the dates you were documenting. You wondered if he would’ve ever agreed to be part of your “research” if he had known.

You were halfway to falling for him. And he didn’t even know he was being measured.

“Have you told him yet?” Joshua asked you the next morning, watching you poke at your cereal like it had personally wronged you.

You didn’t look up. “No.”

“How many dates has it been?”

You mumbled, “Ten.”

“Y/N.”

“I know. I know, okay?” You sighed, “I’m telling him. Just… not tonight. He is preparing for his showcase. I don’t want to mess with his head.”

Joshua narrowed his eyes but let it go—for now. ~~

The gallery was empty, but you could see Mingyu inside preparing for his showcase at the end of the week. Minimalist lighting, deep charcoal walls, the soft hum of polite conversation. You stood in front of one of Mingyu’s photographs, a candid of an older couple laughing over a chessboard. It made your chest ache.

“You came,” Mingyu whispered, suddenly appearing beside you.

“I’m almost done here, just ensuring the lights and all are set for the showcase, at the end of the week.”

You turned to smile at him, but his tie was crooked and his hair was slightly damp—like he’d been nervously running his fingers through it all evening.

“You look like someone’s proud boyfriend,” you teased.

He blinked. “Am I?”

Your breath caught. You didn’t answer.

You were walking home, your heels in your hand, when Mingyu tugged you under a streetlamp.

“I didn’t want to ask you like this,” he said, his voice unsteady, “but I’ve known for a while now… I like you, and we’ve been through so much, but I like you. A lot. You make me nervous in the best way. You make me want to be better. So—” he swallowed, “—will you be my girlfriend?”

You stared at him. You should’ve said it right then. About the article. The dates. The reason you were writing everything down.

But you didn’t.

You just said yes. And kissed him so he couldn’t hear your guilt screaming in your throat.

“You said yes,” Mingyu whispered into your hair, almost in disbelief. You could feel the grin on his face as his hands slid around your waist and pulled you into a deeper hug. His voice was low, warm, and giddy. “I have a girlfriend.”

You laughed softly into his chest, but guilt bloomed like ink in water.

“I was going to ask you another day, actually on the day of my showcase, well after it,” he said, pulling back just enough to look at you. “I had this whole plan. Photos of you projected behind me, a cheesy slideshow. But tonight felt… right.”

Your stomach twisted. Photos of you?

“You’re serious?” You asked, half smiling. Mingyu nodded, almost shyly. “I’ve been taking candids whenever you weren’t looking,” he admitted. “I know, creepy boyfriend behaviour. But they’re… they’re beautiful. You’re beautiful. I wanted to capture how you make me feel when I look at you.”

You didn’t know what to say. A part of you wanted to cry — from the sweetness, and the shame.

“That’s really… thoughtful,” you said, trying not to choke on the words. Your smile faltered. “I can’t wait to see it.”

But you could barely look him in the eye.

That night, after Mingyu walked you home and kissed you with all the sweetness in the world, you sat on your bed with your journal open on your lap. You hadn’t written anything since the first few dates. The number six still stared back at you, innocent and clinical. You hadn’t added the last four dates. You didn’t know how to write about the way he made you laugh when you were angry. Or how he told you he dreamed of printing photos in black and white because that’s how he saw the world when you weren’t in it. Or how his lips felt against your forehead after he sang on stage like he was made of stardust.

You crossed out the six and wrote nine.

Then stared at it for a long time.

You closed the notebook and shoved it into your work bag.

You’d tell him. You had to. But not tonight. Not when he was smiling so brightly. Not when he called you his girlfriend like he’d been waiting his whole life to say it.

You curled into bed, burying your face into your pillow, guilt prickling at the edges of your happiness.

Soon, you told yourself. You’d tell him soon.

The next few days blurred into a montage of camera flashes, coffee dates, and late-night phone calls where Mingyu would talk about lighting setups and lens choices like he was describing magic.

“I’m thinking of opening with black and whites,” he said over the phone one night, his voice sleepy. “The ones I took of you. You know, that photo from the coffee shop? You were laughing at something dumb I said.”

You clutched the phone tighter. “You took a photo of that?”

“I take photos of everything,” he said. “But that one… that one’s my favourite.”

You didn’t know whether to melt or cry. “I can’t believe I’m going to be in a gallery,” you said, your voice lighter than you felt.

“You’re not just in the gallery,” he chuckled. “You’re the inspiration.”

You could hear the grin in his voice. And you wished you could deserve it.

By Thursday, Mingyu was knee-deep in final edits. You stopped by his place with snacks and coffee, trying not to let your nerves get the better of you.

Seungcheol glanced up from the couch. “Hey, muse,” he teased. “He hasn’t stopped pacing for two hours.”

You smiled awkwardly. “I brought croissants.”

Mingyu looked up from his laptop like he hadn’t noticed you come in. “You’re here,” he breathed, and suddenly all the tension in his body melted. “Come see.”

He beckoned you over, pulling you gently into his chair as he stood behind you. Dozens of thumbnails filled the screen — shots of city streets, shadows cast on faces, hands mid-gesture — and scattered among them were photos of you.

One of you reading in the park. One with your hair messy and your lips parted in laughter. One where you were looking directly at the camera, unaware he’d even lifted it.

“Gyu,” you said softly. “These are…”

He rested his chin on your shoulder. “You always say you don’t know how you look when you’re not trying,” he murmured. “I do.”

You didn’t trust your voice. You turned toward him, and he kissed your cheek gently.

And all you could think about was the notebook in your work bag and the words “latest article” scribbled across the first page.

Later that night, curled up together on his couch as he scrolled through playlists for the showcase.

“You okay? You’ve been quiet.”

He hesitated. The words perched on his lips like a bird on a wire.

“I’m just nervous,” he said instead. “Big night coming up.”

You squeezed his hand. “You’ll be amazing.”

You almost laughed at the irony. Instead, you smiled and leaned into him, hoping he wouldn’t notice the way your heart had started to race.

You stood outside the gallery, trying to convince yourself your knees weren’t trembling. The venue was elegant — all high ceilings, exposed brick, and warm ambient lighting. Mingyu’s name was printed in glossy serif font across the entrance: Kim Mingyu: Through My Lens.

You took a breath. Then another.

“Are you going to walk in?” Joshua whispered behind you, “or just stare at the door until the exhibit’s over?”

You shot him a glare but let him loop his arm through yours.

“I can’t tell if I’m nervous for him,” you muttered, “or just a horrible person.”

“You’re not a horrible person,” Joshua replied easily. “Just… an occasionally dumb one.”

“Thanks,” you grumbled.

“You look beautiful, by the way,” he added as you stepped through the door.

The second you entered, it was as if the air changed. Soft music played overhead, the scent of white wine and something citrusy floating in the space. People lingered over photographs mounted on pristine white walls, murmuring appreciatively. You spotted Seokmin and Keira by the drinks table, and Wonwoo near the back corner with Mia.

And then your eyes landed on him.

Mingyu was in black slacks, a crisp button-down, sleeves rolled up, the camera still slung around his neck even though tonight wasn’t about taking photos — it was about showing them.

When he saw you, his smile was so instant and so sincere it nearly shattered you.

“Y/N,” he said, slipping his hand into yours as you approached. “You came.”

“You asked me to,” you said softly, “I wouldn’t miss this.”

His hand lingered at your waist as he leaned down. “You look breathtaking,” he whispered.

You smiled, kissed him quickly before you lost your nerve. “So do you, artist boy.”

Mingyu turned you toward the display. “Come on. I want to show you something.”

You followed him through the crowd, weaving past strangers and small talk until you reached the far wall — a quiet corner lit by a single spotlight.

There were three frames there.

The first was a cityscape at sunrise. The second was a candid of Seungcheol asleep on the couch with a book covering his face. And the third was you.

The photo was simple: you, sitting at a window, eyes closed, sunlight brushing against your cheeks like a secret. It looked like peace. Like love.

Your breath caught.

“I call it Falling,” Mingyu said softly.

You swallowed. “That’s…”

He smiled down at you. “I took it three weeks after we met, when we were hanging out in the park, that’s when I realized I was in trouble.”

You opened your mouth, but no words came.

“I’m serious,” he added, his voice barely audible over the soft clinks of wine glasses and distant chatter. “I knew you were going to wreck me, and I didn’t care.”

You could feel your heart cave in on itself.

“Gyu,” you whispered, and he turned to you, expectant.

But you couldn’t do it.

You couldn’t ruin this night.

So instead you leaned up and kissed him, slow and soft. “It’s beautiful,” you whispered. “You’re beautiful.”

He wrapped his arms around you and pressed a kiss to your temple. “Let’s celebrate later. After this, it’s just you and me.”

You nodded, your smile shaky. “I’d like that.”

But the words stayed trapped in your throat like a secret begging to be released.

The showcase wrapped up to rounds of applause, handshakes, and endless praise. You watched from the sidelines as Mingyu basked in the limelight — cheeks flushed with pride, hair slightly tousled, still laughing from something Seungcheol said. He looked like he belonged in a painting, and for a moment, you felt like the luckiest person in the room.

But also, the most deceitful.

He found you again before you could spiral too far. “Come on,” he whispered, curling his fingers around yours. “My place. Just us.”

You nodded, letting him lead you out of the crowd, out of the venue, out of the guilt temporarily.

Mingyu's apartment smelled like him. Warm, slightly musky, with a hint of cologne and something sweet — the remnants of a scented candle from weeks ago. You curled up on his sofa while he kicked off his shoes and brought over two glasses of wine.

“To you,” he said, raising his glass.

You blinked. “Me?”

“For showing up. For holding my hand through all this. For being the reason I made half those pieces.”

You stared at him, heart in your throat. “Mingyu…”

He leaned closer. “Can I say something stupid?”

You nodded.

“I think you’re it for me.”

Your heart stopped. You couldn’t breathe. The wine turned to acid in your stomach.

“I mean, we haven’t even been together properly that long, but every time I see you, it feels like everything falls into place.” He laughed softly, bashfully. “Sorry. That was probably too much.”

“No,” you choked, voice barely holding steady. “It’s not. I just…”

You paused, fingers tightening around your wine glass.

Say it. Tell him. Just say it.

“I’m really lucky,” you said instead, forcing the words out like poison disguised as honey. “Lucky to have you.”

Mingyu smiled at you like you’d handed him the world. He reached for you and pulled you into his lap. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured. “You know that?”

You nodded against his chest, burying your face in his shirt. You couldn’t look at him. You didn’t deserve to.

His fingers stroked lazily up your spine. “I’m happy,” he said, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

You swallowed the truth. You kissed him instead.

The guilt didn’t disappear. It just burrowed deeper.

And as his lips brushed against your collarbone, his arms wrapping tighter around you like you were everything he’d ever wanted—you promised yourself, next time. Next time, you'd tell him.

You had to.

“Y/N, do you have a hair tie? I’m trying to see how I’ll look with a ponytail,” Mingyu called out to you one evening later from the living room, his voice light.

You smiled, “yeah, in my bag!” You called back, tugging your blanket tighter around you. You didn’t think twice—Mingyu had gone through your bag a dozen times before, always fishing for snacks or stealing your lip balm. You only grew concerned when the silence stretched a little too long.

“Gyu?” You asked, walking out of the bedroom.

And then your heart stopped.

Mingyu stood completely still in the middle of your living room, your journal clutched in his hands like it had scalded him. His brows were furrowed, lips parted in disbelief, and you could tell he had been flipping through it for a while. You followed his gaze to the open page. Your handwriting. His name.

Your stomach dropped.

“What the fuck is this?” Mingyu’s voice was quiet. Too quiet.

You blinked. “Mingyu—”

“Are you seriously rating me?” He said, louder now, shaking the journal for emphasis. “Is this what this was to you? A fucking science experiment?”

You took a step toward him, arms up as if approaching a wild animal. “Gyu, I can explain—”

“No. Don’t. Because right now my brain is running in circles trying to understand how the hell I could be so fucking stupid.” He threw the journal on the couch like it physically burned him. “I thought I was in something real with you, Y/N. I thought this meant something.”

“It does,” you whispered.

“Does it?” He snapped. “Because you sure as hell didn’t act like it. You wrote down bullet points like I was some test subject. You kept track of our dates like I was a fucking checklist.”

You flinched, guilt crushing your chest. “I was going to tell you.”

“When?” His laugh was sharp, humourless. “After you published it? After you hit ten dates and figured out whether I made the cut or not?”

“No! God, no. I just… I didn’t expect to actually fall for you.”

Mingyu’s jaw tightened. “That doesn’t make this better.”

“I didn’t think it’d go this far,” you continued, helpless now. “It started as an idea, a pitch for a column. But then we kept going out, and it stopped feeling like research. I started liking you. A lot. I still do.”

He stared at you, breathing hard. And then he said, so quietly it was almost a whisper, “So the night you said yes to being my girlfriend… you still wrote about me?”

Your silence was answer enough.

Mingyu let out a strangled laugh, blinking rapidly. “Cool. So the moment I thought I’d finally found someone who actually gave a shit about me, I was just another subject in your notebook.”

“No, Mingyu, please don’t say that—”

“Why not? It’s true, isn’t it?” He shouted. “You let me fall for you while you kept notes behind my back. You smiled at me, kissed me, touched me—and you were always thinking about your next paragraph.”

You took a shaky breath, reaching for him, but he recoiled like you’d burned him. “Don’t,” he said, voice low and dangerous. “Don’t touch me.”

You felt your throat tighten. “Gyu, please. I know I should have told you, I just—I was scared. Scared it would ruin what we had.”

“Well, it’s ruined now,” he said coldly. “So congratulations.”

“Mingyu—”

He brushed past you, but paused at the door. “You know what hurts the most? I told you things I’ve never said out loud. I let you in.” His voice cracked then, just a little. “And all the while, you were writing me down like I was disposable.”

And then he left.

You sank onto the floor, the weight of everything collapsing on top of you. The journal sat on the couch, open and damning. You couldn’t even look at it.

You had wanted to fall for him.

Now you weren’t sure you’d ever stop. ~~

You woke up the following morning to silence. No hum of Mingyu’s heater, no soft snores beside you, no faint scent of his cologne in the air. Just your own bedroom, dim and cold.

Your eyes blinked open slowly, heavy, as if even they didn’t want to face the light. The moment you tried to sit up, a dull ache pulsed behind your eyes, the aftermath of hours spent crying into your pillow.

You reached for your phone automatically, more out of habit than hope. No new messages. You hadn’t expected one… but some small part of you still wanted it. Still wanted him.

You groaned softly, dragging your blanket over your head like it might shield you from your own thoughts. But it couldn’t. Not from the way he’d looked at you. Like he didn’t recognize you. Like something in him had cracked—and you had no idea if it would ever be whole again.

You got up eventually, padding into the bathroom. Your reflection startled you: eyes puffy and red, lips chapped, skin blotchy from salt and regret. You splashed your face with cold water, trying to erase the damage, but the guilt clung stubbornly beneath your skin.

The kitchen was too quiet, too neat. You set a pot of water to boil, more for the comfort of routine than any real desire to eat.

As you leaned against the counter, your phone buzzed again.

Still no messages from Mingyu.

Just a calendar reminder. Dinner with Gyu — 7PM ❤️

You deleted it. And still, your chest ached like you'd just done something irreversible.

You whispered into the silence, “I’m sorry.”

But no one was there to hear it. It was just you sat in the living room, feeling awful.

The front door creaked open sometime late afternoon, followed by the shuffle of sneakers and the low hum of conversation.

“Should we pick up more oat milk next time?” Joshua’s voice drifted down the hall.

“I’m not the one finishing it in two days,” Wonwoo replied, a teasing lilt in his voice.

You didn’t move from where you sat, curled into the far corner of the couch with your knees pulled to your chest, your oversized hoodie practically swallowing you whole. The television was on, playing a random episode of a show you weren’t watching. A forgotten cup of tea sat cold on the coffee table.

Joshua was the first to see you. “Y/N?” His voice softened instantly. “Hey... what’s wrong?”

Wonwoo paused behind him, his eyes immediately taking in the puffiness around your eyes, the slumped shoulders, the blank stare.

“Y/N?” Joshua’s voice shifted instantly. You hadn’t even realized your face had crumpled until you saw the way both their heads snapped up. “What happened?” He asked again, this time standing up, eyes narrowing as he caught sight of the way your shoulders shook.

“He knows, he found out.”

Joshua was beside you in a second, arms wrapping around you as you sank into him. You didn’t even bother holding it together anymore. You let yourself sob, the ugly kind, the kind that made your throat burn and your chest ache. Joshua whispered something softly—comforting, aimless sounds—and rubbed your back.

Wonwoo stood silently, his jaw tight as he looked down at the journal, then back up at you.

“I didn’t mean to hurt him,” you finally whispered after a while. “I really didn’t.”

Joshua pulled back just enough to see your face. “What happened?”

You wiped your face with the sleeve of your hoodie. “He found it. The journal. The whole damn thing. I think he was looking for a hair tie or something, and it just… fell out.”

Wonwoo closed his eyes and let out a long breath.

“He thought it’d be cute or romantic or something,” you said, your voice hollow. “You know, me scribbling little lovestruck notes. But instead, he found ratings. Fucking ratings. Breakdown charts. He read them all. And then he looked at me like I was the worst person he’d ever met.”

“What did you say?” Joshua asked gently.

“That it was for an article. That I had this stupid idea—this dumb, terrible idea—and that I didn’t mean for it to go that far.” You looked down at your hands. “But it did. I fell for him, and I never told him the truth, and now he thinks everything I said was a lie.”

Neither of them said anything.

“He stormed out. Thinks I’m a liar. Asked if I had to force myself on dates with him just to see how long it would take to fall for someone like him. Like he wasn’t enough on his own.”

Joshua sighed and sat back down, rubbing his temple.

“I begged him to listen. Told him I didn’t mean to hurt him. That I’d planned to tell him. But he just—he didn’t believe a word of it.”

“And now?” Wonwoo finally asked, voice flat.

“I don’t know,” you said quietly. “I don’t think there is a now.”

You hadn’t planned on coming by. Honestly, you weren’t even sure what you were doing until your knuckles rapped twice against the door to Mingyu’s apartment. There was a half-second where you considered turning around, pretending like you’d never shown up. But the door swung open before you could.

“Y/N?” Seokmin blinked at you in surprise. “Hey, wow. Uh—Mingyu didn’t say you were coming by?”

You offered him a small, nervous smile. “I just... wanted to talk to him. Is he in?”

Seokmin hesitated. “Yeah, he's around... sure, come in.” He stepped aside, gesturing for you to walk through. You did, clutching your bag a little tighter to your side. You didn’t know what you were hoping for. A moment. A conversation. A sliver of the version of Mingyu who used to laugh when you messed up the coffee order.

The apartment was quiet. Too quiet.

Then, Mingyu stepped out of the hallway, stopping dead when he saw you.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” His voice wasn’t raised yet, but it landed like a slap.

Cold.

Sharp.

You flinched. “I just wanted to talk.”

“Oh, you want to talk now?” He scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “That’s rich, coming from someone who spent weeks documenting me like a lab rat.”

“Mingyu, please—”

“No. Don’t ‘please’ me.” He was walking toward you now, slow and deliberate. “Do you think I’m stupid? That I wouldn’t find out eventually? You thought you could just scribble notes behind my back, rate my kisses out of ten, and I’d what—fall even harder for you?”

You opened your mouth, but Mingyu was already shaking his head.

“Seokmin, why the hell did you let her in?” Mingyu snapped.

Seokmin looked between the two of you, piecing together what he had clearly walked into the middle of. “I didn’t know... I didn’t know she—”

“Yeah, well, now you do.” Mingyu’s gaze flicked back to you, burning. “Did you come back to take more notes? See what heartbreak looks like up close?”

“Gyu, I just needed to explain,” you said, voice cracking. “It wasn’t supposed to go like this. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Then why did you?” He asked bitterly. “You chose to keep lying. You chose to keep writing.”

“I was going to stop,” you said quietly.

“But you didn’t,” he bit back. “You kept going. Even after I told you how I felt. Even after I asked you to be mine. You rated the date that same night, didn’t you? What was it—an eight? A nine? Was it good content at least?”

Your throat closed up.

“I was falling for you,” you whispered. “I still am.”

He laughed—a harsh, humorless sound. “Too late. You already wrote the ending.”

You took a step forward, and he took one back.

“Don’t. Don’t look at me like that. Like you’re the one who’s heartbroken. You wrote this story, Y/N. You chose the arc. And now you get to live with the ending,” Mingyu’s voice cracked, and for a second, just a second, you saw it. The pain. The betrayal buried under all that rage. The way his eyes shone—not with hate, but heartbreak.

With all the noise you noticed that Seungcheol had stepped out of his bedroom to see what the commotion was about.

You wanted to reach for him.

But you didn’t.

You couldn’t.

You saw how they all looked at you–their expressions cold, unreadable, like they didn’t even recognize you anymore. You bent down slowly, the weight of the moment pressing on your spine, and collected your scattered things.

“Mingyu…” you whispered, one last attempt.

But it was Seungcheol who answered, you didn’t even know when he left his room to join the commotion he heard outside. his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. “Leave. For your own good, leave.”

You nodded. Numb. Ashamed. You turned without another word and closed the door behind you.

The second it clicked shut, the tears came fast and merciless. You barely made it down the hallway before they overwhelmed you, hot and humiliating. By the time you stumbled into your own apartment, your face was blotchy, your breaths short and uneven.

You didn’t laugh. You couldn’t.

“Well?” Joshua asked softly.

“He’s done with me,” you choked, “and please, if you can spare me the I told you so lecture—” But the rest of the sentence never made it out. It dissolved into broken sobs as you crumpled into Joshua’s chest. His arms wrapped tightly around you without hesitation, while Wonwoo just let out a sigh of disappointment.

They didn’t say much that night. There wasn’t much to say.

You were silent through dinner. Silent through the movie Joshua tried to put on to distract you. Silent even when you crawled into bed hours later, the covers pulled over your head like they could shield you from the reality you’d created.

It had only been a day since it happened, but already the weight of it sat on your chest like a brick.

The next afternoon, as you walked home from work — eyes bleary and head pounding — you spotted Seokmin across the street. He didn’t wave. Just kept walking. You jogged across to meet him.

“Seokmin,” you called, a little breathless. “Please, I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

Seokmin turned, slow and stiff. His face was unreadable at first, then slowly twisted into something sharper. “Just go back to pretending you never knew us, yeah?” he muttered. “You’ve done enough damage.”

You swallowed hard, heart lurching. “Will he ever forgive me?”

Seokmin’s jaw tightened. “Who knows. You don’t deserve it. But if you’re lucky… he’ll forget you.”

You blinked back the sting in your eyes. But Seokmin didn’t wait for your response. He shook his head in disgust, walked up the steps to their apartment, and slammed the door in your face.

You stood there for a long time. Just breathing. Just trying not to fall apart again.

You hadn’t expected anyone at your door that afternoon, so when you opened it and were met with a stranger, you were already bracing to explain you weren’t in the mood for conversation. But then she smiled politely and said. “Hi, oh shit you’re not Mingyu, I must have the wrong apartment. ”

You blinked, as a beautiful woman with soft curls, glossy lips, familiar doe-eyed charm greeted you outside your door.

“You’re looking for Mingyu?” You asked, your voice flatter than intended.

“Yup!” She said, eyes lighting up.

You nodded slowly, lips pressed tight. “Yeah. The doors look the same.”

Before she could respond, the door across the hall swung open. “Hey, baby,” Mingyu’s voice floated out, smooth and warm like nothing had happened. “Sorry, I disturbed your neighbor. All the doors look the same.”

The girl giggled and practically leapt into his arms.

“Missed me?” She asked.

Mingyu smirked at her, eyes flicking up to meet yours for a second. That smile you once thought was just for you felt like a blade this time. “Let me show you how much,” he said, pulling her into his apartment.

“Mingyu, I’m sorry,” you said quietly, not knowing why you did. Reflex, maybe. Hope, maybe.

He rolled his eyes and let out a scoff, the door slamming shut before you could get another word out.

You closed your own door gently, like the sound might shatter you if it echoed too loud.

“Y/N?” You turned to find Wonwoo entering the living room. You hadn’t even heard him come up behind you.

“He has a girl over. He’s moving on. And I...” Your voice cracked before you could finish. The lump in your throat grew too big, too fast.

Wonwoo stepped closer, placing the groceries down and wrapping his arms around you. You leaned in, too exhausted to pretend you weren’t breaking anymore.

“I need to fix this,” you whispered into his sweater.

Wonwoo let out a slow sigh as he pulled back. “Or you could just let it go,” he said gently. “Mia wasn’t impressed by it either.”

You stepped away from him, frustration bubbling up beneath your grief. “Who told you to tell her?”

“I didn’t,” Wonwoo replied, his tone calm but stern. “She asked. And you think she wouldn’t have heard it from the others? I told her what happened, and yeah—she got mad. Not just at you. At me too. She’s upset you hurt someone like him.”

You closed your eyes. “I didn’t mean to. I just—I wanted to fall for him. I wanted to try. And I did.”

“Then let him heal,” Wonwoo said quietly. “Maybe he’ll come back to you.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Then maybe it means he’s not supposed to.”

You nodded slowly, the ache in your chest pulsing harder. ~~

You had been chased out of your apartment by Joshua, something about you moping and crying killed aura, and plus he said you needed to get out. So while you where in the grocery store, you didn’t expect to see Mingyu. You certainly didn’t expect him to catch you staring at a magazine with the poster from the movie How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days. Because that was you. You were Andie Anderson, and you’d lost him. Not in ten days, but close enough. You reached out for the magazine, maybe just to laugh at the irony.

“That’s rich.” The familiar voice hit you like a slap. You turned to find Mingyu standing a few feet away, arms crossed, a smirk that didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Looking for more inspiration to screw someone over?” His voice was sharp, slicing through the aisle like a whip.

You turned slowly, heart already sinking. “No. I wasn’t.”

He glanced pointedly at the magazine. “Actually, the funny thing is—you didn’t even need ten days.”

You didn’t answer, just grabbed a basket and kept moving. Mingyu stayed behind for a moment, then stepped up beside you. “You tried to see how long it’d take for you to like me. You lost me instead. Ironic, huh?”

You flinched, but didn’t stop. You just grabbed your milk, turned toward the cashier.

By the time you paid, rain had started pouring outside like some kind of melodramatic movie set. Your umbrella was sitting back at your apartment. Of course.

“Fuck,” you muttered, arms full of groceries, glaring at the downpour like you could will it away.

“Need a ride?”

You turned around slowly. Mingyu. Hands in pockets, shoulders tense.

You shook your head. “I’ll wait.”

“It’s going to pour for hours. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

Mingyu grabbed the bags from your arms anyway. “This is not an inconvenience, you dating me for an article and breaking my heart? That was an inconvenience.”

You followed him out in silence, too tired to fight.

The drive was quiet, tense. The rain drummed on the roof like it was keeping time with your heartbeat.

“I’m not writing the article anymore,” you said softly, breaking the silence.

Mingyu didn’t look at you. “Because you didn’t get enough content?”

You looked down at your hands. “Because it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“I don’t care if you write it or not,” he muttered. “I don’t care about anything that involves you anymore.”

You nodded, throat burning.

“I didn’t mean to let it go that far,” you whispered.

“Don’t,” Mingyu said, his voice suddenly small. “Just don’t.”

You shrank into your seat.

“She’s pretty,” you said after a moment. “That girl. She seems light. Happy, and pretty.”

Mingyu said nothing, eyes fixed on the road. But he tightened his grip on the wheel.

You glanced down, feeling foolish, and reached out to rest a hand over his. He flinched.

You pulled away instantly.

“I can carry my bags,” you said.

“I know,” Mingyu replied. But he still walked you all the way to your apartment and didn’t say another word.

~~The elevator ride was agonizingly silent, save for the soft hum of movement and the rhythmic buzz of the floor numbers lighting up. You didn’t dare look at Mingyu, not when your reflection in the metallic doors already looked wrecked enough. His jaw was tight, eyes fixed on a spot just above your head like if he made eye contact, he’d combust.

The ding of your floor felt more like a punch to the gut. You stepped out, expecting him to turn around and go, but he didn’t. He followed you.

“Mingyu?” You asked softly, turning to look at him as you unlocked your door. His arms were full of your groceries, but it wasn’t the gesture that threw you. It was the fact that he looked more exhausted than angry now—like he'd screamed himself hoarse in silence, and only ashes were left.

He didn’t answer. Just walked past you once the door opened and placed the bags gently on the kitchen counter. You watched him, unsure what to do. Unsure how much space to give someone who already felt galaxies away.

“Oh uh you-,” you said after a beat, trying to sound firm but it came out smaller than intended.

“Save it, I’m just dropping this off,” Mingyu replied without looking at you. “I’m just dropping this off.”

He lingered by the door, hands in his jacket pockets now, as if grounding himself. “Do you… want anything?” You asked, and it felt like asking a stranger if they needed water before they left your home forever.

He looked up at you then, and for a second, you saw something. Sadness? Regret? Longing? You weren’t sure. It flickered across his face and disappeared before you could name it.

“I wanted to hate you, you know?” He said, voice low. “That night, I really thought I could. But then I remembered everything else. The way you’d smile at me when you thought I wasn’t looking. The way you’d write things down when you were nervous. The way your voice always cracked just a little when you were excited. You didn’t make it easy.”

You swallowed hard, tears already welling again. “So you don’t hate me?”

Mingyu shook his head. “No. I think that’s what makes this worse.”

Your breath hitched. “Then what now?”

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I still can’t look at you without remembering that I was just another chapter in a story you were writing. Whether or not it became real for you, I’ll never stop wondering if it ever started that way.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. Every word felt like another nail into your chest, and you weren’t sure if it was guilt or grief that made your throat ache more.

“I should go,” he said quietly, already stepping backward toward the door. “But for what it’s worth, I hope the story was worth it.”

“Mingyu, wait—” you called out as he turned the doorknob, but he shook his head.

“Don’t,” he said, not unkindly. “Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

Determined to show how much you cared for him, you still continued to speak. “I really hope that she makes you happy; you deserve it. I’m so sorry.”

Mingyu looked at you then—really looked. But there was no softness in his gaze, no flicker of the man who once spooned you in his sleep just to be closer.

He stepped away from your reach, disgust curling on his face like it physically hurt him to see you cry.

“I hope that you never find love, Y/N.”

He said it low, like a curse.

“Because you don’t deserve it.”

The door clicked shut with all the finality of a goodbye you weren’t ready to accept.

You stood in your kitchen, surrounded by your groceries, heart pounding in your ears and chest aching. You didn’t even realize you’d started crying until the sound of your own sob cracked through the silence.

Then he was gone. The door slammed shut before you could blink, and you stood there, a hand still reaching out for him like some pathetic remnant of a memory. The sob left your throat before you could stop it, and this time you didn’t bother to wipe it away.

You didn’t deserve to.

The next morning, your eyes were puffy, your voice hoarse, and your heart too hollow to carry the weight of your body properly. You dragged yourself into the office anyway, needing the distraction, needing something to hold onto.

Keira spotted you before you could slip past her.

“Y/N, can I speak to you?”

You stopped, wincing. God, you weren’t ready for another confrontation.

“Hey,” you muttered as you stepped into her office.

“Can you shut the door behind you?” She asked gently.

Your stomach dropped. “Please don’t fire me,” you said with a half-laugh, though it came out far more desperate than funny.

Keira softened. “Honey, I’m not going to fire you. I’m calling you in because I’m concerned. You look like you haven’t slept in days. And you scrapped the article?”

You sank into the chair across from her, shoulders folding inward like you were bracing for impact.

“It’s a long story.”

Keira studied you for a moment, then reached for her purse.

“Okay, how’s this? We skip the desks and head to the bar across the street. You tell me everything over a very strong drink. My treat.”

You blinked at her. That small gesture—kindness without demand—was enough to make your throat tighten.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I’d really like that.”

And for the first time in days, you felt a flicker of something that almost resembled relief.

“So,” Keira said, finishing off her drink and eyeing your fourth glass like it personally offended her. “Do you like him?”

You didn’t even hesitate. You nodded, your fingers curled tightly around the rim of your glass as though the condensation might cool down the burn behind your eyes. “Yeah,” you said quietly, “I do.”

Keira leaned her chin into her palm, her eyes narrowing as she watched you. “Then go get him.”

You laughed. It wasn’t a pretty sound. “He told me I don’t deserve love.” You stared down into your drink. “And maybe he’s not wrong. I hurt him.”

“Sweetheart,” Keira said, straightening her spine, “you did a stupid thing. A spectacularly dumb thing. But that boy likes you, and he’s bleeding all over you because he’s hurt, not because he doesn’t care.” She reached out and gave your hand a gentle squeeze. “Don’t give up on him just because he’s angry.”

But her words barely reached you. Your mind was elsewhere—caught in the sound of his laughter, in the way he used to absentmindedly brush your hair behind your ear, the warmth in his voice when he called you by your name like it meant something.

You blinked, and suddenly you were crying.

“Hey, no tears tonight,” Keira said quickly, passing you a tissue from her purse. “Drinks first, tears later.”

It was a promise you failed to keep.

Two more drinks in, and you were barely standing. Keira kissed your cheek and called you a cab, but you insisted on taking the bus. Said something about needing to “feel things.” You weren’t sure what that meant now. By the time you reached your apartment building, you were too drunk to even recognize your floor. You stumbled into the elevator and prayed to whatever higher power existed that your key would match the door.

You cursed under your breath as your keys jangled uselessly in the lock. “Why won’t you open?” you muttered, knees buckling as you reached forward again—and missed. Your balance tipped, your body about to crash into the floor when strong arms caught you mid-fall.

Your head lolled against a familiar chest.

“Y/N,” Mingyu said, sighing. “You’re trying to break into my apartment.”

You blinked up at him, all wide eyes and bright smile. “This isn’t mine?”

“No it’s not,” he said, dragging a hand down his face. “Come on. You’re drunk.”

“I’m allowed to be drunk,” you mumbled stubbornly.

“It’s literally seven p.m.”

You beamed. “Then I’m very early.”

Mingyu didn’t laugh. He groaned, lifting you with ease and carrying you into his apartment. “You’re lucky Seokmin and Seungcheol aren’t home,” he muttered. “They’d kill you for this.”

You let your head fall against his shoulder. “They’d have to catch me first.”

He sat you down on his bed and fetched a glass of water. “Drink. Please.”

You did as told, the cold water clearing your throat but not your thoughts. The alcohol had cracked your walls open, and guilt was spilling out in waves. “I shouldn’t be here,” you whispered.

“No kidding,” he replied, but his voice was gentler than his words.

“I don’t deserve you, or your kindness, or your stupid soft hoodies.”

Mingyu knelt in front of you, jaw tightening as he watched your face crumble.

“Your eyes are really sparkly,” you said, reaching out to touch his cheek. He flinched—just slightly—and the movement sliced right through you.

“I should go,” you whispered, making a shaky attempt to stand. You wobbled, and his hands shot out instinctively to steady you.

“Okay, let’s just get you lying down before you face-plant.”

You groaned. “I need to shower. I’ll just sleep naked. It’s fine.”

“You are absolutely not sleeping naked in my apartment,” he muttered, ears turning red.

You grinned, delighted by his discomfort. “You used to love when I was naked.”

“And now I just want you clothed and far away from my fragile self-respect.”

Eventually, he helped you to the bathroom. You showered—sloppily, messily, shampoo probably still in your hair. But you got through it. You managed to step out, towel clutched around you, and found him waiting exactly where he said he’d be—on the edge of your bed.

“See?” You mumbled. “Didn’t die.”

But the joke didn’t land. Not when you looked at him and remembered everything. The notebook. His shattered expression. The sound of his voice when he told you to leave.

“Mingyu?” You whispered, voice suddenly small.

He didn’t look at you. “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.”

There it was. The truth. Raw and exposed and echoing through the air like an apology too late to be heard.

He turned slowly, his expression unreadable. “Seokmin said you’d never earn my forgiveness. But maybe, with enough luck, I’d forget you.”

You swallowed thickly. “Can you?”

“No,” he admitted, voice cracking. “I’ll never forget you. But forgive you?” He shook his head. “That’s something I don’t think I have in me.”

You nodded, and even as he stood and walked to the door, even as he didn’t look back, you whispered a soft. “I get it.”

Mingyu didn’t see the tears that fell the second the door closed behind him. But he heard the sound of your sob breaking the silence, and it tore him apart to keep walking.

~~“Oh, Y/N,” Keira sighed, tapping her mug against yours as the two of you sat in the quiet corner booth of your favorite café on a dreary Monday morning. “You’ve got it bad for him.”

You gave her a wry smile as you swirled your tea. “Yeah, well… that makes two of us, apparently.”

Keira raised an eyebrow, already sensing the storm brewing in your voice. “I have some news that’s probably going to ruin your morning.” You glanced up sharply. “Do not freak out,” she warned, glancing toward the main entrance of your office.

“What?” You asked, heartbeat stuttering. You turned—and froze.

Mingyu.

He walked in like he belonged there, tall and calm in his oversized hoodie, camera bag slung over his shoulder. Your stomach twisted into a knot.

“What the fuck,” you whispered under your breath.

Keira quickly stood and put on her most professional smile. “Mingyu, welcome! This is my main feature writer; I believe you’ve read her work?”

He nodded, eyes on you. “Yeah. Sandy Beaches.” His lips twitched at the name, and you wanted to murder Joshua for convincing you to use a beach pun as your pen name.

Mingyu turned to you, his voice clipped. “So, neighbor. You ready to do the artist spotlight on up-and-coming photographers?”

Keira let out a nervous laugh, clearly sensing the tension. “Okay, I’ll leave you two to it.” She bolted.

You led Mingyu to your office, conscious of every footstep behind you. The second the door closed, you rounded on him.

“What the hell is this?” you hissed.

He leaned casually against the wall. “Before you get mad, I was contacted the day of my showcase about doing a feature. I thought it’d be... ironic, you know? My girlfriend writing about me.”

“You know I can reassign this—”

“I don’t care,” he cut in coldly. “You write well. It’s just a profile. I figured I could survive your presence for an hour.”

You swallowed hard, voice softening. “I’ll need to see your work.”

He gave a humorless chuckle. “You already have. Remember the night you agreed to be my girlfriend? That was me, in my element.”

You said nothing. Guilt chewed away at your insides.

“Anyway,” Mingyu continued, “you know more about me than anyone else on staff. Do a decent job. Unless you’re planning to spin this into a tragic tale of the stupid boy who thought he was worth something.”

“Mingyu,” you sighed. “I didn’t lie.”

“No?” he snapped, pushing off the wall. “Then what do you call it?”

You didn’t answer.

“I came in as a formality for your boss,” he continued. “Not for you. You know enough—write your fluff piece, send it off, and we’ll both pretend it’s the end.”

He didn’t wait for a response as he walked out, slamming the door behind him.

You were exhausted from the day’s emotional whiplash and stayed late at the office to avoid running into anyone. By the time you arrived home, it was well past midnight.

The elevator doors creaked open and you stepped out, only to be met with the sound of moaning echoing down the hallway. You frowned, pausing mid-step.

“Harder,” someone panted.

Your stomach dropped.

Your eyes followed the sound—and there she was. That same girl from who knocked on your door by mistake, the girl Mingyu was moving on with, pressed against the hallway wall, legs wrapped around Mingyu’s waist. His back was to you, hands gripping her thighs. Her head lolled back in bliss.

“Gyu, stop. Someone’s here,” she giggled.

“It’s okay,” he muttered. “She’s nobody.”

You blinked. And then you ran—into your apartment, slamming the door shut before the tears could fall. “Oh hi guys,” you greeted Joshua and Jihoon once you entered your apartment, and Jihoon simply stared at–correction–through you.

Joshua looked up from his laptop. “You okay?”

You tried to smile. It cracked at the corners. “I guess being forgotten feels worse than being hated.”

Jihoon sat up straighter, jaw tightening. “So that’s why you’re mad? Because you hurt someone and now you have to watch them move on?”

“Jihoon,” Joshua warned quietly.

“No, I’m serious,” Jihoon snapped. “You don’t get to stomp on someone and then cry when they refuse to crawl back to you.”

You clenched your jaw, the shame burning under your skin. “I didn’t ask for a lecture.”

“Well, you’re getting one,” Jihoon stood. “Mingyu is like a little brother to me. I didn’t say anything because Joshua begged me not to. Said you were a good person. But I don’t see it.”

That was enough.

You turned without another word and left your apartment, ignoring Joshua’s calls. The hallway was empty—thank god. You slipped out the building and found the nearest bar.

By your second glass of wine, the edges had dulled just enough to stop shaking.

“Y/N?” A familiar voice called out.

You turned. Soonyoung, another one of Mingyu’s friend.

The only time you’d spoken was at the party months ago.

“Or should I say... heartless?” He said with a crooked grin.

You exhaled. “Hi, Soonyoung.”

He slid into the booth across from you. “Sorry, I just needed to get that out of the way. You don’t look great.”

“I’m not.”

He eyed your wine glass. “You drinking alone?”

“Apparently, that’s all I’m good for.”

Soonyoung watched you, head tilting. “Why did you do it? Why write about love like it’s a science experiment?”

You shrugged. “I guess I was scared. Falling for someone the normal way felt… too easy. Too vulnerable.”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah, well. You broke the rules. And now you’re stuck trying to rewrite an ending that was already perfect.”

You blinked down at your glass, throat tight.

“I didn’t mean to hurt him,” you said quietly.

“Okay, and why didn’t you tell him that? Like say something like hey I think I sort of have some feelings for you, but I want to go on a few dates to solidify them?” You sighed, dragging your finger around the rim of your empty glass. “Hindsight is clearly not my friend.”

Soonyoung nodded slowly. “So why are you here?”

You shrugged. “Well, I saw Mingyu with his fingers deep inside another girl, and he acted like I wasn’t even there. Then Jihoon, I guess, said what he wanted to.”

Soonyoung winced. “Yikes.”

“Why are you here?” You asked, frowning slightly.

“Just wanted to use their restrooms, and I saw you, so I decided to come by and grill you,” he replied, lips quirking. “Look, before I go—what you did was really fucked. But did you like him?”

You nodded wordlessly.

“I still do.”

Soonyoung sighed and leaned forward. “Then tell him. Be creative. Tell him until he acknowledges it. I’m not saying he’ll forgive you, but he’ll feel less like an idiot.”

You stared at the condensation slipping down your glass. “Why are you helping me?”

“I’m not,” he said. “I’m trying to help my buddy find some comfort in knowing that he’s someone worth loving, and not just a catchy headline.” Soonyoung sighed and then spoke again. “Y/N, just don’t wait too long if you really do like him. Before someone else writes the ending for you. Anyways, I think the staff here can tell I’m not a patron, so I’ll see you around, I guess. Take care!”

You watched him go, and when the door shut behind him, you realized just how quiet the bar had gotten. And how late it was. You’d lost track of time—again.

The chill in the air greeted you the moment you stepped outside, and it sank in just how far from home you really were. You turned a corner, tried to retrace your steps, but your stomach dropped when none of the streets looked familiar.

“Fuck,” you muttered.

You fumbled for your phone and called the one person you shouldn’t.

“Hello?” “Mingyu.” Your voice was small, unsure. “Hi, I know you hate me, but I… I’m lost.”

A groan crackled through the speaker. “You—”

“No, never mind. I’m sorry for bothering you,” you blurted, ending the call before he could say anything else.

Your screen dimmed before the app you opened for a taxi could even load. Your phone powered off completely in your hands.

“Fucking wonderful.”

You sat down on a nearby bench, staring into the dark, unsure if you should wait it out until morning or hope that someone—anyone—might pass by.

Just as your thoughts started spiraling and panic bloomed in your chest, a voice cut through the silence.

“Hey.”

You turned with a jolt, nearly jumping to your feet. But there they were—Mingyu’s familiar doe eyes, breath visible in the cold air. “So you hung up, and it was a real struggle to find you and I…” Mingyu trailed off, startled when you suddenly wrapped your arms around him, holding him tight.

“You okay?” He asked softly. His arms didn’t move to return the hug.

You stepped back, cheeks flushing. “How did you find me?”

“I assumed you’d gone drinking,” Mingyu said, his voice low, careful. “Soonyoung-hyung texted me, said he saw you at that bar. I just traced my steps.”

You nodded, brushing the back of your hand across your eyes.

“Come on, let’s go back,” he murmured, guiding you toward his car. The silence between you was heavy, but not hostile.

When you reached the car, he hesitated before opening the passenger door for you.

“Hey, um… nothing happened, right? Like, no one tried to hurt you?” He asked as he slid into the driver’s seat.

You shook your head. “I’m okay.”

Mingyu nodded. “I’m sorry for what you saw earlier.”

You bit your lip. “No… I mean. We aren’t together. And I hurt you. So, it’s only fair.”

“No, it’s not.” His tone turned sharp. “That’s fucking toxic, and I’m sorry. We were just caught up in the moment. I didn’t even realise until I saw your face.”

You looked out the window. “Do you like her?”

He shrugged. “Don’t think I’ve been on enough dates yet.”

You winced.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he repeated. “I just meant… it’s too soon to tell with her.”

You took a breath. “I knew. With you.”

Mingyu froze. His hands tightened around the wheel as he pulled over.

“What?” You turned to him, your heart thudding. “I knew I felt something for you. I knew it when I saw Mia and I got jealous. I got jealous of the rock climbing receptionist and then that girl you’re dating now. No one gets jealous unless they care.”

Mingyu’s jaw ticked. “Why are you telling me this now?”

You sighed. “Because I should’ve said it when it mattered. Because I miss you. And I hate that I ruined it.”

He didn’t say anything, but the crack in his silence was louder than any words.

The ride back to the apartment was silent, heavy with everything left unsaid. When Mingyu pulled into the lot, the car barely came to a full stop before you unbuckled and got out. You didn’t wait for him, didn’t speak—just walked briskly toward the front of the building, your heels clicking against the pavement like punctuation to every aching beat of your heart.

You didn’t expect him to follow. But when you reached the elevator and hit the button, you caught a brief glance over your shoulder—and there he was. Mingyu, leaning slightly against the railing, his hands shoved into his pockets, his face unreadable. For a second, your eyes locked. No words were exchanged, but something passed between you—an unspoken permission, a quiet nudge.

You took it as a sign and stepped into the elevator. When he joined you seconds later, the air between you thickened, pressing against your chest like gravity.

The elevator ride was short, but the silence felt infinite.

Neither of you said a word as you reached the hallway. Mingyu unlocked his door, then paused—just for a breath—before stepping inside. He left it open. You followed.

His apartment looked the same, but everything felt different.

Mingyu didn’t look at you when he spoke. “I need you to know that every single emotion I felt with you was real,” he said softly, his back still to you. “Every time you kissed me, it felt like fireworks. Every time you hugged me, I felt safe. And every time we—” He paused, his voice catching. “It wasn’t just sex. It felt like a journey. You made me feel special every time I was with you.”

You swallowed. “Mingyu, I made a stupid mistake. But I wanted to fall for you… because I knew there was something there. I just—I went about it the wrong way. I was scared. But you? You’re someone worth loving. Not just… someone worth writing about.”

He turned around at that, slowly. His eyes scanned your face like he was searching for the lie.

“Are you just pushing me into forgiving you?” He asked, but there was more pain than malice in his voice.

You shook your head. “No. I just don’t want what I did to affect how you see yourself. What I did was on me, not on you.”

For a flicker of a second, you saw something shift in him—like your words hit somewhere tender. But then he stepped forward, and the moment shattered.

“Oh, really?” Mingyu scoffed. “Me? Affected? I’m the one getting laid. Not you.” His words came out harsher than intended, bitterness rising. “Fuck, has anyone ever even wanted you? Approached you? Your ex cheated on you, even Wonwoo Hyung avoided you—he warned me, you know? He knew you were a ticking time bomb.”

You flinched. Your stomach twisted.

“And I still fucking fell for you,” Mingyu said, voice rising. “Ten dates. Don’t worry I’m over i, clearly, I don’t care, because not too long ago, my fingers were inside another girl.” He said it like a weapon, wielded cruelly, “She was tight. Fuck. Her body was—”

“Enough,” you said, barely a whisper, but Mingyu stopped. Like he finally heard himself.

You turned away and made a move to leave his apartment.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Mingyu asked, eyes wide.

You didn’t answer, just tried to get out of his apartment.

“Y/N! Fucking stop.”

You froze as Mingyu walked up behind. “Y/N,” he said again, softer now, “look at me.”

You didn’t move.

“Y/N. Look at me.”

You slowly turned your face toward him. His expression was crumbling.

“I know I crossed a line. What I just said… it was cruel, and I didn’t mean it. As toxic as it is, I just wanted to hurt you, the way you hurt me, but I went too far.”

You held your hand out to stop him. “I fucked up, Mingyu. I know that what I did is unforgivable. I want to thank you for tonight. I don’t deserve your kindness. I’ll have your artist profile written and sent to you for your kind perusal in a week.”

“Y/N—”

You smiled, and Mingyu could see the tears threatening to fall. “Goodnight, Mingyu,” you whispered, leaving his apartment, walking across the hall and entering your own apartment, and closing the door behind you.

He stood there long after the door closed, your words hanging in the air like smoke.

“Y/N? You’ve got a visitor,” Joshua called out, poking his head into your bedroom the next morning. You were freshly showered, curled up in your robe, sipping on kombucha when you caught sight of a familiar figure hovering behind him.

“Oh.” You blinked. Mingyu.

“Can he stay, or do we not like him today?” Joshua asked, squinting at Mingyu like he was trying to summon a glare.

“He can stay,” you replied, quietly.

Joshua nodded. “Alright. But if I hear her cry, I’m calling Wonwoo Hyung to hurt you.”

“Why not you?” Mingyu asked, brow lifting.

Joshua shrugged. “Your stupid golden retriever face makes it hard to stay mad. I can’t hit a puppy.”

You rolled your eyes. “Shua.”

“I’m going. Holler if you need me.” He winked, disappearing into the hallway.

You gestured toward the bed. “You can sit. I won’t bite.”

“You seem better,” Mingyu said, stepping inside and cautiously sitting down beside you. His eyes scanned your face, your posture—like he was trying to read how much of your recovery was real.

“Getting there,” you lied, sipping your drink. “You gave me closure last night, so I guess now I just… learn and heal.”

That lie tasted bitter. You weren’t over him. You weren’t even close.

“Really?” Mingyu asked, his expression tightening. “You got over me so quickly?”

You shook your head, voice soft. “No. I just… I’m leaving you alone.”

He looked down, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “Look I’m so fucking sorry for what I said, I was being spiteful. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything I said about her. Or… you.”

You gave him a small nod. You didn’t know what to say to that.

Silence stretched between you until Mingyu glanced around the room and started to get up. “Okay. I guess I should go?”

But he didn’t leave. Instead, he took a hesitant step toward you and knelt on the edge of your bed. His hand brushed your cheek—light as a whisper—and you froze.

“You’re beautiful,” he said. “Truly.”

Then, just like that, he was gone. His hand pulled away. His body retreated. And he rushed out of your room like a man on fire, leaving you stunned, confused, and just a little less miserable.

The following evening, you were sprawled on the couch in your favorite hoodie, arms crossed stubbornly as House Hunters played in the background at low volume. The sunlight had long since dipped behind the skyline, casting a moody blue over the apartment. You hadn’t moved in hours — not since Mia’s party invite had come through the group chat.

“You’re going,” Wonwoo said, nudging your foot with his knee as he walked past holding a bowl of popcorn.

You didn’t even look up. “Absolutely not.”

He sat down on the edge of the coffee table, facing you. “Come on.”

“I’d rather attend my own funeral,” you muttered.

“Dramatic,” he said, popping a kernel into his mouth. “It’s not her wedding, it’s a party. Mingyu will be there. Your friends will be there.”

“Only you and Shua, no one else wants me there.”

Wonwoo tilted his head. “You can’t avoid everything that makes you uncomfortable.” “Mia does,” Wonwoo tried to lie.

You rolled your eyes at him “that’s because she’s dating you and she cares about you.”

“I’m not avoiding,” you snapped. “I’m choosing peace.”

“That’s funny, because you look like a woman actively losing her mind in a hoodie cocoon.”

You finally sat up, scowling. “I’m just not ready to go to a party where everyone knows I screwed up.”

Wonwoo gave you a pointed look. “Everyone screws up. But only some people decide to marinate in guilt like a mopey rotisserie chicken.”

“That’s a terrible metaphor,” you muttered.

“Still worked.”

You rolled your eyes and reached for a throw pillow to hug. “Wonwoo, what if he’s there and just—ignores me? What if Mia says something? What if I cry into someone’s jungle juice?”

“Then you cry. But at least you’re not crying alone on a couch watching reruns of sad real estate couples.” He leaned forward, voice softer. “You’re allowed to show up for yourself. Even if it’s awkward. Especially when it’s awkward.”

You stared at him, torn. “Ugh. Why are you good at pep talks?”

“Because I know you,” he said with a small smile. “And you hate feeling left out more than you hate confrontation.”

“God, I hate when you’re right.”

“And yet you listen every time.”

You took his hand. “I’m blaming you if this ends in disaster.”

Wonwoo smirked. “Wouldn’t be the first time.” ~~

Later that evening you were in full panic mode.

“Wonwoo, I can’t do this. Everyone there hates me,” you groaned as he paced around your living room.

“Oh also, plans changed, Mia needs help so you need to go yourself,” Wonwoo said sheepishly

“What the hell, no I’ll be walking into a lions den!”

He shrugged. “Jihoon and Joshua are already there setting up. Mia’s with me. So yeah, it’s just you. Good luck.” And with that, he ducked out the door before you could protest.

You knew you’d have to face the crowd, you decided to suck it up and get dressed.

You chose your silk blue dress—short, elegant, and dangerous. The kind that hugged all the right curves. You were slipping on your heels when someone knocked on the door.

“It’s open,” you called out.

“Hey. Oh—wow,” Mingyu muttered, stepping inside. The words slipped out before he could stop them, and you instantly felt your cheeks warm under the weight of his gaze.

You cleared your throat. “Uh hi?”

He smiled faintly. “Mia’s party. Seokmin and Cheol are already there setting up. I figured… maybe we could share a ride?”

You hesitated. “Isn’t your date going with you?”

He shook his head. “Yeah… she’s not really relevant anymore. Turns out I was just the decoy to make her ex jealous. She got him back.”

He let out a short laugh. “Guess I’ve got that ‘easy to fuck over’ vibe.”

You didn’t say anything, but your silence was loud.

Mingyu glanced at you. “Anyway. I called us a cab. You ready?”

You nodded.

The cab ride to the party was quieter than expected. Not awkward, not tense—just quiet. Mingyu sat beside you, elbow on the window, tapping a soft rhythm against the glass. You stared ahead, feeling the buzz of anticipation, dread, and god-knows-what else coiling in your stomach like a tightened spring.

“You look amazing, by the way,” Mingyu said suddenly, breaking the silence.

You glanced at him, caught off guard. “Thank you.”

He smiled at the floor of the car, like he didn’t quite know what to do with your voice.

When you both arrived, the apartment was already buzzing. The bass of the music thumped low through the walls, and there was a faint glow from the string lights Seokmin had insisted on. You could hear laughter, someone singing off-key, and the gentle hum of people who weren’t thinking about you at all.

“Ready?” Mingyu asked, already stepping out and circling to open your door.

You paused. “Not even a little.”

He chuckled. “Same.”

The second you stepped in, all heads turned. Not because of you—no, definitely not just you—but because of you and Mingyu, together. He was in all black, stupidly tall and maddeningly handsome, and you were in a dress that had already gotten three glances and a whisper before you’d made it past the entryway.

You felt the pressure of every gaze crawling up your spine. Your hand brushed Mingyu’s by accident. He didn’t flinch, but he didn’t reach back either.

“Hey!” Seokmin grinned, running over, arms already halfway to a hug before he remembered. “Right, hi.”

“Hi,” you replied awkwardly.

“Come on Mingyu, party’s started,” Seokmin said guiding Mingyu, and reluctantly you to the bar.

Mingyu gave him a nod before grabbing a drink from the bar and handing you one without asking.

“I thought you might need this.”

You took it gratefully, muttering, “God, yes.”

The night unfolded in slow motion.

Joshua and Jihoon were manning the playlist and playing hype-men near the drinks table. Mia was radiant, bouncing around in a sequin dress, glowing like a mirrorball. Wonwoo hovered at her side like a quiet shadow, until he caught your eye and gave you a small nod.

You raised your glass in a silent toast.

Mingyu disappeared midway through the night, and you let him. You weren’t sure if you were meant to follow, but you didn’t want to look like you were chasing him. You ended up nursing your drink on the balcony, alone with the music and the pulse of memories.

“You okay?”

You turned to see Joshua step out beside you, two drinks in hand.

“Not sure,” you admitted.

He handed you one of the glasses and stared ahead into the city lights. “You’re handling this better than I thought.”

“Only mildly crumbling.”

“Progress.”

You both sipped quietly.

Back inside, you caught sight of Mingyu again—laughing at something Seungcheol said, his head thrown back. That laugh used to belong to you. That laugh used to be something you could earn, like a reward. And now it was just… public domain.

You turned away, heart thudding like a warning.

You hadn’t even noticed someone approaching until you heard the voice.

“Hey, pretty thing. You’re that girl, right? The one Mingyu dated?”

You turned to face a stranger, his breath laced with tequila and whatever cologne he’d bathed in.

“Excuse me?” You asked flatly.

He leaned closer. “I’m just saying, he clearly upgraded. You should see the new one.”

Before you could reply, you felt someone step between you and the guy.

“Walk away,” Mingyu said, low and lethal.

The guy held up his hands. “Alright, alright. Touchy.”

He slinked off, and for a moment it was just you and Mingyu. Again.

“Thanks,” you said, barely above a whisper.

Mingyu’s jaw was tight. “You shouldn’t have to deal with that.”

“I’m getting used to it,” you admitted. “Not being liked very much.”

Mingyu looked at you, really looked at you. “Don’t say that. Don’t even think that.”

You didn’t know what possessed you in that moment—maybe the warmth from the drink, or the weight of his words—but you reached for his hand and found he didn’t pull away.

Instead, he gave it the smallest squeeze.

Just once.

Mingyu didn’t let go of your hand.

He hadn’t meant to hold it in the first place, but when you slipped beside him in that quiet moment by the balcony doors, your fingers brushed his—and he didn’t move. And neither did you.

From inside, the party carried on. Someone shouted about food. The lights shifted warmer. The bassline of an old familiar track pulsed through the floor. But here, in this sliver of quiet between the hallway and the chaos, everything stood still.

Your hand was still in his.

And he was still staring straight ahead, jaw tight, like if he looked at you now, he wouldn’t be able to look away.

“I should go and get some food,” you said finally, barely above a whisper.

But he still didn’t let go.

“I miss you.” The words dropped like a weight between you. Unprepared. Raw.

You turned your head sharply, breath catching in your throat.

“Mingyu—”

“I shouldn’t,” he cut in, eyes still fixed ahead. “I shouldn’t say that. But I do. I fucking miss you.”

Silence.

You looked down at your joined hands, his thumb just barely brushing your knuckle. It felt like fire.

“I never stopped missing you,” you murmured.

He exhaled through his nose, eyes flickering down to the floor. “That makes it worse.”

“I know.”

“I see you, Y/N. At the café, in the elevator, even when you don’t look at me. I still feel like I’m watching the version of you I used to have… and I don’t know how to unsee her.”

You blinked fast, swallowing around the lump rising in your throat. “I’m still her. Just... more broken.”

“I don’t know if I can trust you again,” he said, softer this time. “And I don’t know what it says about me that part of me still wants to.”

That hurt.

But you nodded. “I wouldn’t expect you to. I just needed you to know... that none of it was fake. Not a single second.”

Mingyu finally turned his head to look at you. And when he did, the full weight of the ache between you crashed like a wave. The room behind you could’ve gone silent or exploded into flames—you wouldn’t have noticed.

“You made me feel like I was everything,” he whispered, eyes locked on yours. “And then you made me feel like I was nothing.”

You didn’t even realize your hands had tightened together until he pulled away.

“I need air,” he muttered. “There’s food inside.”

And just like that, the warmth of his touch vanished.

You stood still, heart racing, fingers burning in the space where his had just been.

Inside, Mia was mid-toast, giggling through champagne bubbles and surrounded by friends. “To a great group of friends, lets have a great night and make regrettable choices!” She shouted, and the crowd cheered.

You laughed weakly, even as your eyes found him again—across the room now, leaning against the kitchen counter, beer in hand, nodding along to something Wonwoo was saying. He wasn’t looking at you anymore.

But his foot tapped restlessly on the floor.

And you knew he felt it too—the storm, the crack, the pull that hadn’t gone away, no matter how much damage you’d done.

You took a step forward.

Then stopped.

Somewhere between the beat of the music and the hum of the laughter, you realized: this wasn’t the moment. Not yet. He wasn’t ready.

And you… you weren’t sure if your heart could take another hit just yet.

So you turned, smiled at Mia, and raised your glass instead.

But still, in every reflective surface—windows, wine glasses, the shine of the fridge—you kept catching glimpses of him.

And you knew he saw you, too.

You had found a quiet corner near the bar, nestled just far enough from the dance floor to avoid being dragged into conversation, but close enough to still look like you were trying. You sipped your drink slowly, hoping that the low lighting and loud music would blur you into the background.

That hope lasted all of ten minutes.

“Well, well,” a familiar voice drawled behind you. “Look who showed up like she was invited.”

You didn’t even have to turn to know it was Seungcheol. You tensed, your hand tightening around your glass.

“I was invited,” you replied coolly. “Mia said—”

“Mia invited you because Wonwoo wouldn’t stop pushing for it,” Seungcheol cut in, stepping in front of you. “And even then, we all said it was a bad idea.”

You glanced over his shoulder and caught Seokmin standing a few feet away, arms crossed, jaw tight. His expression wasn’t hostile—just cold. Closed off in a way that hurt more than yelling ever could.

“You think just showing up fixes what you did?” Seungcheol asked, voice low enough that no one else around you could hear, but sharp enough to slice. “You think looking pretty and keeping your head down makes it all okay?”

“I didn’t come here to start anything,” you said, eyes flicking down to your drink. “I just wanted to show up for Mia. That’s all.”

“Then show up somewhere else,” Seokmin said finally, stepping forward. “Anywhere but here.”

You blinked, trying to keep your composure, but it was getting harder with every second they kept looking at you like you were a stain on the floor.

“Look, I’m trying to be nice,” Seungcheol added, not quite as kind as his words claimed. “Mostly for Gyu’s sake. But if you’re still here in the next hour, I’m not going to hold back. Got it?”

You gave a small nod, lips pressed together so tightly you could taste the metallic bite of blood from how hard you were biting the inside of your cheek. You didn’t wait for them to say anything else.

You turned on your heel, pushing your way through the crowd, each step heavier than the last.

And then you were outside—air crisp, music muffled behind the walls, and your breath fogging out in short, shallow bursts. You rubbed your hands along your arms, trying to breathe, trying to forget the way Seokmin wouldn’t even look you in the eye.

That’s when you felt it—a hand around your wrist.

You yelped, startled, only to find yourself face-to-face with Mingyu.

“Y/N?” He said, his brows furrowed in concern. “Why did you leave?”

You exhaled shakily. “I wasn’t exactly made to feel welcome,” you muttered, pulling your wrist gently from his hold.

Mingyu blinked. “What happened?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you whispered, suddenly so tired your bones ached. “I shouldn’t have come in the first place.”

Mingyu stepped closer, voice gentler now. “Wait—Y/N, it’s freezing. You didn’t bring a coat?”

You shook your head. “I’ll get a cab.”

Mingyu frowned, glancing around. “There’s a diner around the corner. Let’s get food? I’ll make sure you get home safe after, I promise.”

You hesitated. “Gyu, you don’t have to—”

“I know I don’t have to,” he said. “But I want to.”

The fluorescent lights of the diner buzzed quietly above you, a stark contrast to the bass-heavy chaos of the club. The booths were faded vinyl, the menus laminated and slightly sticky, and the warmth inside made you realize just how cold your skin had gone. You were still clutching your arms like a shield, and Mingyu noticed.

“Sit here,” he said, gesturing to a booth in the corner. “It’s quieter.”

You slid into the seat without argument. Mingyu sat across from you, tapping his fingers nervously against the salt shaker before picking up a menu he didn’t bother reading.

The hostess from earlier walked over with a soft smile. “What can I get you two? Drinks to start?”

You opened your mouth, but Mingyu beat you to it. “Hot chocolate. Extra whipped cream, if you’ve got it.”

Your eyes flicked to him, startled.

He offered a small shrug. “You always get hot chocolate when you’re sad.”

You blinked, the lump forming in your throat again. “And for you?” the hostess asked, turning toward him. “Coffee. Black.” He paused, glancing at you. “Unless you want to split something.”

“I’m not really hungry,” you mumbled, looking down at the menu without seeing any of it.

“We’ll share the fries,” he told the waitress softly. “Thanks.”

When she walked away, the silence pressed in between you again, dense and tight. You stared at the table, tracing the ring of condensation left by a glass long since cleared.

“You want to tell me what happened in there?” Mingyu asked eventually.

You hesitated, your voice low. “Seungcheol and Seokmin. They cornered me. Said I wasn’t welcome. That they were being nice for your sake, but if I stayed… it’d get ugly.”

Mingyu leaned back in his seat, jaw tense. “They had no right.”

“They were defending you,” you murmured. “You were hurt. I get it.”

“I can fight my own battles.”

You looked up at him slowly. “Can you?”

That made him pause. He looked tired suddenly, like the weight of everything was finally catching up to him. “I didn’t know they said that to you.”

“I wasn’t going to tell you,” you admitted. “Because I already knew. I knew I didn’t belong there. Not anymore.”

The waitress returned with the hot chocolate and coffee. You wrapped your fingers around the mug, letting the heat seep into your hands.

“You know,” Mingyu said, eyes on his cup, “for a long time, I hated myself for still caring.”

Your heart squeezed.

“I’d see you around and I’d want to yell, or kiss you, or run in the opposite direction. Sometimes all three in the same minute.”

You smiled faintly. “That’s... fair.”

“But tonight, when I saw you outside?” His voice dipped. “You looked so lost. And I didn’t think. I just ran.”

You stared down at your mug, unsure what to say. So instead, you took a sip. Whipped cream clung to your lip, and Mingyu leaned forward, gently swiping it away with his thumb. Your eyes locked for a breath too long.

“You shouldn’t be this nice to me,” you whispered.

“I know.”

“So why are you?”

He gave you a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Because I don’t think I’ve ever stopped hoping you’d surprise me.”

You swallowed hard, heart thudding.

“Are you still angry?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he said honestly. “But less than I was yesterday.”

Your lips curved upward slightly. “Progress.”

He nodded, then signaled the waitress for the check. “I’ll get this. And I’ll put you in a cab, like I promised.”

You stood together, walking toward the door in silence. But just before you stepped out into the cold again, Mingyu turned toward you.

“Don’t listen to Seungcheol,” he said. “You weren’t unwanted.”

With that, he opened the door, walked you up to your apartment like a gentleman, and bid you goodnight.

You could only hope that tonight was the start of healing for you both.

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ret1cent · 2 months ago

Text

the space between (pt.5)

josh dun x fem reader

WC:6,000+

“run away-ay with me. lost souls in revelry.”

warnings: some angst, arguments, unhealthy/unhappy relationship, reader is a light smoker and smokes in this chapter, language

a/n: sorry posting took so long, i’ve been in a little flunk with writing recently but i will still keep getting these chapters out for you guys because i really am enjoying creating this story! also if there are any errors please excuse them i proofread this half asleep at 2 am lol

previous chapters

May 23rd, 2016.

I lean my head against the headrest of the passenger seat, watching the buildings of Burbank fly past from the highway as me and Kass approached the Warner Brothers lot. I sip the coffee in my hand, the warmth of it relieving me from the chill of the morning. Her presence made the daunting task of going back to work feel more lighthearted, but I knew the feeling would quickly dissipate once we had to separate. I zone out as I stare out the window, the music from the radio droning on in the background. I knew I had to go back home today; it had been too long.

I couldn’t avoid facing Logan forever. I had to be mature, have a conversation with him about everything that had happened. It wasn’t fair to him to not let him explain himself. But it was anxiety-inducing to think about the confrontation. The most nerve-wracking part is that I have no idea how he’ll react at all. He’s unpredictable like that, and that was the factor that frequently prevented me from confronting him about his actions that hurt me. His reaction could range from him begging for my forgiveness and shaming himself, to him raging, telling me I'm crazy, that he would hurt himself because I made him feel ‘inadequate’.

Many people would quickly remove themselves from a dynamic like this without a second thought, but I’m attached to him. It’s a simple reason, yet the feelings behind it are so large and complicated. This is the longest relationship I’ve ever been in, I can’t imagine not having him there in my life. Something about just knowing that someone would always be there, especially when you’ve had so many people in your life abandon you, was a comforting feeling. I was brought out of my thoughts when Kass said my name, her already standing outside of the parked car. I looked up at her, startled.

“You ok (Y/n)? We’re here.” She says slight concern in her voice.

“Yeah. Yeah, sorry. I just zoned out for some reason.” I say slightly confused, rubbing my face and trying to readjust myself after the weird moment. I get out, grab my work bag and then walk with her to set.

Once we entered the large, cold studio I was brought back to the reality that my life was. Something about just getting away from everything and spending the weekend with Josh and Kass felt so dreamy. Especially reconnecting with Josh, it took me back to earlier years, it made me feel young. It was crushing to think that in only one week the two of them would both be leaving. I had other friends here sure, but none that I connected with nearly as much as them. The thought put pressure on my chest, my eyes slightly stinging. I say my reluctant goodbyes to Kass as she heads to the backstage area, then walk up to Frank to see what my jobs would be for the day.

“Hey Frank. What should I focus on for today?” I ask and he looks up with annoyance.

“Well, Sydney already did a coffee run…” he says, insinuating that there would be no tasks left for me to do.

I motion to the hectic set around us. “It looks like there’s plenty going on. There must be something I can do.” I say and he huffs in annoyance, opening the folder in his shoulder, pulling out script packets, then handing them to me.

“Here, take these to the extras.” He grumbles, as if defeated by the idea of me doing anything remotely important at my own job.

I walk outside with the pages in my hand, the sun emitting a warm shine on me, the freeze of the morning air mostly gone. It was a nice day, if only I could just stay out here and not have to talk to Frank for the rest of it. One could only dream. I make my way to the extra’s holding area, seeing a line of people sitting and chatting. I greet them each with a smile, them returning the same kind energy as I hand the people with lines the page that matched their name tag. Everyone was polite and easy going until I reach the end of the line, a girl with blonde hair and piercing blue eyes glaring at me as she looks up from her phone.

“Hey, here you go…” A say with a slight smile, uncomfortable by her expression.

She takes the page from me without a word and looks down at it with an appalled look on her face. “Um this only has 2 lines…” She says bitterly, looking at me as if it were my fault.

“Um... well, you’re an extra. Most of the people here don’t even have lines.” I explain, trying to be kind as I motioned to the other actors and actresses who seemed perfectly content with their papers.

“Are you mocking me?” She asks with an unkind squint of her eyes.

“What? No, I'm just saying…”

“Last time I checked I was supposed to have 4 lines.” She quickly interrupts me.

“Well things change all the time, it’s not unusual for directors to cut lines last minute.” I explain, rubbing the back of my neck uncomfortably.

“I don’t like your tone.” She quips back and I summon all the energy in my body to avoid rolling my eyes.

“Well, I'm just trying to explain. I’m sorry.” I say as politely as possible.

“God can’t some of you people be competent?”

“Ok, I’m walking away now.” I finally decide and she scoffs. I didn’t have to waste my time defending myself against her. Not that a bigger role would excuse her behavior, but it really was crazy how even some of those with the smallest of roles still felt a sense of superiority over the production crew.

The rest of the day seemed to be a blur of inconveniences and an endless stream of snarky comments from Frank. There had been drama between the two main stars on set. Due to this, the film time for the scenes we needed for the day kept getting pushed back because of their halfhearted performances and bickering between scenes. This put a lot of stress on the set, causing everyone to be at each other's throats. Overall, it was not the best of workdays. Especially with my arrival home to Logan looming over my head. It was almost like the feeling you’d experience in childhood, when you got a bad grade on a test or got in trouble in class, and knew you’d have to come home and face your parents with the disappointment.

“Ugh I so don’t wanna do this.” I groan, getting back into the car with Kass.

“You don’t have to if you aren’t ready…” She suggests gently.

“No, I have to… It’s been almost 4 days now of me not being home. I have to, just running away like that wasn’t mature of me.” I sigh, titling my head against the headrest as she turns out of the lot.

“Hey, it’s reasonable to need some space sometimes, especially with what he did.” She reasons. “Have you thought of what you’re going to say?” She asks and I bite the inside of my cheek in thought.

“Honestly, no.” I admit after a brief silence. “I kind of just hope my emotions will guide me in the moment. I know I should have some thoughts prepared but, I just haven’t wanted to think back on the moment. It’s painful to think about.”

She glances over at me in sympathy. “I know you’ll figure it out. You’ll do what’s right for you.”

I smile weakly at this. I hope she’s right, Logan needed to know that what he did was unacceptable, but I haven’t even fully processed the situation yet. I just wonder if this is even something we can fully move past. The pure fear I felt when the glass hit the floor, the look of satisfaction in his eyes when he saw that the punch he threw at Josh had hurt him. His behavior was turning scary, to the point where I didn’t feel fully safe going home.

Kass pulls up into my driveway, which was absent of Logan’s car. Well, I guess I was ok for now. I didn’t have to talk to him yet.

“Are you sure you’re going to be ok?” Kass asks in concern, gently holding my hand as I stood outside the car.

“I’ll be fine, I promise.” I say, trying to swallow the lump of anxiety forming in my throat.

“Ok…” She says, clearly not believing me. “But please keep me updated. I wanna make sure you’re ok.”

“I will. Love you Kass. Thank you so much for everything this past weekend.” I say with a smile, slowly starting to close the door.

“Literally anytime and I love you too, text me!” She reminds me with an almost motherly concern.

“I will I promise. Seeya.” I say, closing the door, walking up to the house in the same fashion as one would walk a plank.

I pulled out my key to unlock the door, stepping inside. The usual warmth of the house seemed to have left while I was away, the lights dim and the house cold. I look over to the kitchen to see that he had at least cleaned up the glass. I set my bag down by the door, the gentle thud of it echoing. I take my laptop out of it, then take my work boots off and walk over to the couch. I flop down and await my doom, opening my laptop in an attempt to distract myself. It immediately opens to photoshop, where I had been editing the pictures I took of Josh at the pier. I had also been attempting to edit out his black eye just in case he wanted to post the photos and not receive 1000 worried comments asking about what had happened. Even just imagining him having to explain the fact that his friend’s boyfriend beat him up made me wince. Without the proper backstory it would give Josh a bad look. I smile as I look at Josh’s wide grin as he held his plastic alien on the screen. That day was so fun, I hope I’ll be able to get out with him again like that before he leaves on tour. I upload the finished photos to my files and click on the IMessage icon.

hey dude, i thought i should send you these in case you wanted them! i have the original versions which i only altered the physical appearance of color grading and exposure wise and then i also whipped out some of my probably rusty photoshop skills to cover your black eye for the same pics if you wanted to post them. [Files attached]

Josh: i was going to ask abt the pics but didn’t wanna be rude haha but holy shit these are amazing (y/n). you’ve gotten even more talented, these are sick! and thank you for the black eye coverage i greatly appreciate it, these are going right on my insta. but where are the pics of you? 🙌

thanks man :) and they are only mine you don’t get any sorry 👎👎

Josh: WHY! i need to show the gram which one of my talented homies took these pics

UGHHH... fine give me a second to edit them

Josh: yay i won 😁

no you didn’t i’m just nice 👎

I close the app and bring the photos of myself into Lightroom to edit, soothed by the repetitive process. I almost lost track of how much time had passed as I sent the finished pictures to Josh, startled out of my own little world as the doorknob twists and Logan walks inside. I slowly closed my laptop and sat it next to me, him stopping in his tracks and staring at me, his gaze cold, yet surprised. Streaks of blue and purple were spotted on the right side of his face from when Josh had hit him back.

“Where were you?” He asks right away, his tone suspicious and confrontational.

“I stayed at Kass’s for a few days...”

The familiar name seemed to soothe him. He looks to the side, his cheeks slightly puffing as he exhales, deep in thought. “Why’d you just disappear on me like that (Y/n)?” he asks, running a hand through his black hair as he stands by the door.

“You have some questions to answer too.” I rebut defensively, rubbing my arm.

“(Y/n)...” He says more gently, approaching me slowly.

“Why’d you throw the glass? Why’d you hit Josh?” I ask, my voice starting to slightly quiver as I thought about these violent actions coming from the man that I’ve loved and trusted these past years.

He sits next to me on the couch, keeping a bit of distance. “I-I don’t know what came over me. My anger... It gets the best of me. It just feels like I can’t even control it sometimes. Just something about seeing you laughing with another guy like that... I got jealous. I know I haven’t been very present recently. I just got worried that you replaced me because of it. I don’t know.” he says, looking away from my gaze.

“I need you to trust me though. You didn’t even give me a chance to explain before you got violent with him!” I explain desperately.

“Why are you so protective of him? He seemed to hold his own just fine.” He motions to the bruise on his face with his finger.

“Because he’s my friend.”

“Wasn’t this dude out of your life for like almost 4 years? Why is he so important now?” He asks intensely and I shake my head. So, he did listen to the things I would say. He just only reflected that fact when he needed to support his argument.

“Logan it’s not even about him. Forget Josh for one second. This is about the violence you showed in that moment. And the little remorse you show for it. It was scary…” I explain, massaging the bridge of my nose.

“Ok, ok. I’m sorry. I know it was wrong of me. And I’m sorry I scared you… and hurt him.” He adds, a little less genuinely. I need to work on being less territorial. I’m just… scared of losing you.”

“I am too.” I admit, my attachment to him being undeniable. “I just want you to show that more though. I wanna start feeling more seen by you, it feels like we’ve been so disconnected recently. I don’t know, I just wonder if you still even care sometimes.” I say quietly.

“Of course I care, I love you.” He says and moves his arms towards me. My heart seems to clench a moment before I accept his embrace, looking down at the ground.

“I love you too you just... you can’t do any of this anymore. Ok?” I say, pulling back from the hug. Especially the glass that... that scared me.”

He looks away guiltily. “I won’t. I’m sorry.”

The rest of the evening was quiet, and slightly tense. Logan made dinner, lit candles in the living room and poured us wine. It was sweet, I could tell he was trying. I gave him my thanks, but scolded myself for the fact that my behavior didn’t reflect more of my appreciation. As hard as I tried to act normal, it was difficult. We ate in silence in front of the Tv, the noise filling the void of conversation. It had become gloomy outside, the gray clouds creating a dark atmosphere in the living room, the glow of candles being the main source of light around us. After we finished eating, I helped Logan with the dishes and decided I needed to get some air.

“Hey, I’m gonna walk around the neighborhood real quick just so you know.” I say, walking out to the living room to go grab my earphones.

“Sounds good.” He says, slightly looking over his shoulder.

Once I grab my headphones and oversized black Adidas hoodie, I make my way outside after sliding on my shoes, the wind slightly blowing through hair. The leaves of the trees around flow along with the wind, the occasional car whooshing down the street. I connect my earphones to my phone and pull my hood up to protect my hair from the frequent breeze, then open Spotify. I press on the song Don’t Panic by Coldplay, putting my phone back in my pocket as the guitar strums in my ears.

It was calming to just lose myself in the music, music had always been somewhat of an escape for me. There was something so therapeutic about hearing your own emotions being perfectly translated into sound. That’s something I’ve always appreciated about Josh and Tyler’s music, I always felt seen by their lyrics. It made sense, I always seemed to relate to their struggles when we would have heart to hearts at the end of long shoot days when we were all in a delirious haze, laying across floors or couch’s, unwilling to move to head home yet. By coincidence, or perhaps fate, when I skipped through the shuffled songs after Don’t Panic, a song off Blurryface by the name of Hometown starts to play.

For once, I leave it on. I listen to Tyler’s reverberated voice in my ears and as odd as it may be, I felt at home again. I used to always skip their songs when Spotify recommended them. I almost always changed the radio station when they would start playing. Not out of hatred or bitterness. But before Josh and I had reconnected it had only served as a painful reminder that that period of my life that had become nothing but a mere echo of memories. I distinctly remember when I heard the boys on the radio.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ── ── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ── ── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

December 16th, 2013.

I drive down the road, on the way back from a shoot with a new hipster looking clothing brand. It was a cool gig; everyone was chill, and the style was fun. I always appreciate the opportunity to build my portfolio as well as getting out of the usual gigs of headshots and family portraits. Because of the competitiveness of the photography industry, these were usually the only types I was usually able to get my hands on. A soft rain pattered against the window as the radio host’s voice droned on in the background after the last song had ended. I zoned out, following the motions of traffic until a familiar tune snapped me out it.

“I ponder of something great. My lungs will fill and then deflate...”

Holy shit. Car Radio. I had heard the song about a million times, practiced, recorded, performed. I feel my eyes start to well up and look behind me, seeing no cars following closely. I pull over to the shoulder of the road and park, looking down at my lap with a sigh. I wipe the tears starting to trickle down my cheeks as I listen to the song continue. It was hard to describe the emotions I felt. It hurt to think that just at the beginning of the year I was sitting in the studio with them, the excitement of their upcoming album release thrilling, the energy of life feeling uplifting with the progress they were making with their music, getting signed and all.

I had no idea it would be so short-lived on my end, following the end of Josh and I’s friendship. But despite my sadness, I can’t help but feel incredibly proud of them. I had to resist the urge to whip my phone out and text Josh an excited message about how he and Tyler were playing on the radio, about how much they deserved all the success they were starting to gain. I put my hand in my pocket, about to feel for my phone before I quickly pulled back. No, I can’t. It’s over, it’s time to let go. I rub my eyes and wipe the collected drops of rain off with my windshield wipers, starting to drive again.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ── ── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ── ── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

I walk to the front door, turning the cold knob to be met with the sight of Logan sitting on the couch, his head down with my laptop open next to him. Oh god. What happened? He slowly looks up in vexation, his hands remaining folded on his lap.

“Why were you with him?” He spits out.

I sigh. So, he saw the photos. In all fairness, I see how it could’ve looked bad. In the eyes of one unaware of the characteristics of our friendship, the photos could have looked rather intimate. But the hangout was purely platonic, the pictures were taken with the point of building my portfolio and giving him content for his fans.

“With Josh? It was just a hangout. He invited me to hang out at the pier. I took pictures to build my portfolio and Instagram feed for my photography account. I know it may look bad and I’m sorry for not telling you we hung out, but we’re really just friends Logan. I swear.”

He shakes his head, roughly grabbing my laptop and looking through the photos again.

“I’m serious, you can even look through our texts I’m not hiding anything!”

He quickly opens the IMessage app at this, slowly scrolling through our conversations.

“You guys talk a lot.”

“Yeah, because we’re friends. We only recently reconnected, can you blame us for wanting to catch up?” I ask desperately and he remains silent, still focused on reading.

“I don’t like this one fucking bit. This isn’t comforting at all. You guys are way too friendly with each other.”

“I’m sorry, I really do understand why you feel like this. But me and him have always talked like this, we’ve never had any romantic history.”

“No romantic history doesn’t mean nothing ever happened...” He suggests snappily and I quickly shake my head.

“No! We’ve never done anything. I’m just not interested in him like that. I wish you’d understand that.” I say and he stands up.

“And I wish you’d see that you’re fucking lying not only to me but also yourself! It’s so obvious you want him, and I can’t stand it.” He accuses with a finger pointing at me, his eyes piercing into mine. “Just stop being friends with him (Y/n)! Before I lose my mind over this.”

“No!” I raise my voice, the response coming out harsher than I meant it to be, and he stares at me in shock. “I... I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. I just... I already lost him. We only just recently reconnected. I finally have another close friend in my life, I feel so much less alone now. I need this.” I explain emotionally.

“I can’t fucking do this. You’re killing me.” He laughs bitterly. He storms out of the house, slamming the door behind him. I look down and notice my hands shaking in frustration. I lay down on my side on the couch, letting out quiet sobs.

I stayed like that for a while, crying for about half an hour until my eyes grew tired. I wipe my burning reddened eyes, sniffling as I opened my phone. I scroll, trying to find condolence in distraction. I didn’t know where Logan was or where he even went whenever we argued like this, but maybe it was good I was alone for now. He needed to blow off some steam. I open Instagram, seeing Josh’s post show up in my feed. I scroll through the colorful photos, seeing the one of me and my cotton candy at the end, my photography and regular account tagged. I slightly smile, my eyes moving down to read the caption.

joshuadun: night at the pier with a pretty swell friend who also happens to be an amazing photographer. thanks for the sick flics my dude (and for winning me my son mulder)

He put the handle of my photography account caption again. It was sweet of him to promote it so much. I look at the comments, people commenting mostly about how much they liked the shots (which were encouraging to read), about how good they thought Josh looked, some sweet ones about calling me pretty that made me smile, and of course the jealous dating accusations that came with any male celebrity posting a friend that happened to be a woman. The comments that stood out to me most though, were the comments from Tyler and Mark.

tylerrjoseph: um hello when did this reunion happen? josh i'm gonna beat you up for not telling me about this. we WILL all hang out and that is a threat

reelbearmedia: wow, (y/n)! that's a throwback tell her i said hi! (and that i said she took some cool shots) we should all reconnect

I chuckle softly at Tyler’s comment. It was nice to see they still cared about me like that. I knew they never stopped liking me because of the falling out or anything unreasonable, but I forgot they still valued me like I valued them. I shot them both a quick text separately saying hello. I explained how Josh and I had reconnected and made up, how I missed them both and apologized for my distance recently. While I waited for a response back from them, I went back on Instagram, surprised to see how blown up my notifications had become. On both my accounts, I was gaining hundreds of followers, all because I had photographed Josh. It was a reality check, it showed how adored he was. It made me slightly emotional; he really did deserve it.

I look at my comments starting to flood with support in disbelief. People genuinely liked my work? Of course I received the occasional compliment under my photos, but never in an overwhelming amount like this. I sniffled, smiling as I liked and replied to comments gratefully. Though it was gratifying to scroll through the positive comments, the pang of pain from me and Logan’s argument remained in my chest. I needed to talk to someone. In reality, lying here on my phone wasn’t doing me any good.

Before I can stop myself, I unconsciously press the call button Josh’s contact, him picking up only after a few rings.

“Hey, what’s up?” He asks, his voice warm.

“Hey I… Uh… Do you think I can come over maybe? I kinda need to talk to someone right now.” I ask guiltily, feeling remorse for not only putting a burden on him at the last minute, but also for turning right to him in my moment of weakness, despite the fact that me and Logan’s argument had happened because of him.

“Yes of course.” He responds quickly. “Are you ok?” He asks, hearing the strain in my voice

“Umm…. not really.” I admit, my lip starting to quiver.

“Come over, let’s talk. I’ll send you my address. Are you ok to drive?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“Ok be safe, I’ll see you soon.”

I walk up the stone path leading to the tall door of his house, knocking a few times. I text him to let him know it’s me and right after he opens the door, adorned in a faded gray band crew neck and black sweatpants, his pink hair messy.

“Hey.” he says softly, reaching out his arms and I quickly accept his embrace, the heat of his body and the softness of his sweater comforting to cling onto.

“Hey.” I reply back, slightly quiet, embarrassed about coming to him like this.

“Here, I have a place we can talk.” He says, motioning for me to follow him. I close and lock the door behind me, letting out a soft giggle. “What, you have a therapy room or something?”

“Nooo!” He replies with a teasing roll of his eyes. “Just follow me, you’ll see.”

I listened and followed him out to the backyard which was a large expanse of grass that had a pool and workout equipment sprawled everywhere, along with tall palm trees planted along the edges. The most attractive part of it was the straight on view of the city. I marvel at the view before he leads me to the side of the house, motioning to a large ladder that went up the side of the building.

“What is this like a fire escape?” I ask slowly, confused and suspicious.

“Yeah, and also a sick pathway to the roof. Climb up.” He says with a smile.

“Um I don’t know if I should listen to a strange scary man demanding me to climb up a tall ladder up a roof.” I joke, slightly nervous about how high up it went.

“Oh yes of course, I’m terrifying” He chuckles with a toothy grin. “Come on you can trust me! I’m having you go first so I can catch you if you fall.”

“If I fall? Is that like.... a likely possibility?” I asked with a laugh.

“You’re safe I promise!”

“Ok fine, I trust you.” I say warningly, as if he would regret breaking it.

He smiles and whoops encouragingly as I grab onto the burnt auburn colored metal, the smooth texture slightly dusty under my fingers. I start climbing up, carefully watching my hands and feet, making sure they aligned perfectly with the bars. I glance down once I’m about halfway up, fully looking down worriedly when I see how far up I am from the ground.

“I got you!” Josh shouts, reassuring me. I let out an anxious breath and continued making my way up, a wave of relief washing over me when I finally made it to the top of the smooth roof, letting out a soft gasp at the full view of the city, the lights twinkling like stars in a night sky. I sit down criss cross, watching Josh make his way up, with much more confidence than I had.

“Wow you did that a whole lot faster than I did.” I say with a smile, and he shakes his head.

“I come up here all the time I’m just used to it; it was your first time climbing up!”

“And it was terrifying.” I say with a breathy laugh.

“But look at this view though, wasn’t that worth it?” He asks with a smile, scotching closer to me and I nod.

“So worth it, this is fucking beautiful.” I say, looking forward as I admire the lights. “This is just like the old days.” I say appreciatively, reflecting on me and Josh’s rooftop conversations back in Columbus. I rented a small two-story house with a few of my friends and my room was on the second floor, my window having easy access to the roof. When he’d come over, the two of us would often sit up there to just talk, watch the sunsets, stargaze, or when I needed a smoke break, which was a habit he often scolded.

He chuckles at my comment. “Totally, except this is a pretty drastic upgrade.” He says, motioning towards the city of Los Angeles, our view being tall buildings and twinkling lights instead of a top view of my neighbor's houses.

I giggle and nod. “Yeah, it’s a nice change to not feel like a stalker looking at the roofs of random people’s houses.” I say, rummaging through my mini backpack laying at my side for my cigarette case I remembered I had in there, along with a lighter. I open the case, placing one between my lips and lighting it, cupping the flame with my hand. Josh looks over at me with his head rested against the arm on his knee.

“You still doing that?” he asks as I inhale, blowing out the cloud of gray smoke.

“Only sometimes now. When I’m out with people or when I’m stressed...” I say, looking down at my feet as I take another puff.

“What’s been happening (Y/n)?” he asks softly, a genuine concern in his voice. “I can tell you’re upset, and you sounded really sad on the phone.” He points out.

I exhale, preparing myself to talk. “I’ve just been struggling recently honestly. I’m just… not happy with where I am at all.” I say, my voice slightly breaking I as I process my own words.

He looks at me, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. He reaches his hand out to mine, squeezing it softly, a reassuring motivation for me to continue.

“Things with Logan have just been crazy recently. His anger issues have just been getting bad. I’ve always known that that was an issue for him but, just seeing him hit you like that.” I say emotionally and he nods slowly. The purple bruise on his eye had started to fade but it was still noticeable. “And that same day when we argued afterwards, he got upset and he... threw a glass on the floor it was scary honestly.” I say with uncertainty, taking another drag of my cigarette.

“He threw something?” Josh asks, raising his eyebrows in concern.

“Yeah...”

“At you?”

“No, it wasn’t at me but...” I say, attempting to defend Logan but he shakes his head.

“That’s not ok at all. That’s a threatening action and you should never have to feel like you’re in danger with the person you love.” He explains worriedly and I nod sadly, looking off into the distance. “You know you don’t have to put up with this, right…?” He asks slowly and I nod.

“I know but… I love him.” I say softly and Josh nods solemnly, a silence lingering between us momentarily. “He regrets what he did, he apologized. It won’t happen again but even knowing that… I’m still mad at him honestly.” I say with a sigh.

“You aren’t wrong to feel that way, you should be.”

“Yeah. I love him but I’m just… not happy with him right now. It’s hard to be around him now.”

“Look. It’s not my place to tell you what to do with your relationship. But I just want to remind you that built up anger over time almost always leads to resentment in relationships. I feel awful for saying this but… I kind of hated Sophia at the end of our relationship. I had all this anger from the things she did to me, and I just never forgave her for them. It’s just hard to make things work out if your partner does something you consider unforgivable because you’ll always hold that anger inside you.” He explains.

“Yeah. You’re right. I do resent him a little.” I admit quietly, wiping tears forming in my eyes. He nods understandingly in silence, holding my shoulder comfortingly.

I sigh heavily, laying back to look up at the stars dotted throughout the sky, Josh doing the same. It was no view compared to our nights stargazing in Columbus due to the light pollution here, but it was still pretty. I stare at the dark, vast expanse of the sky, the twinkling stars dotted across like little holes of light in the dark blanket. Whenever I looked up at the sky like this, it reminded me how small I was compared to the rest of the universe, along with how much more there was out there in the world.

“I feel like there’s so much more to life that I’m missing out on.” I admit suddenly, looking over at Josh and he meets my gaze.

“What do you mean?”

“I feel stuck. I’m living such a dull and depressing life right now I just… feel like I could be doing so much more. I’m tired of everything, I just wanna run away.” I laugh, slightly exasperated by my thoughts.

“Why don’t you then?” he asks, holding my gaze.

I laugh sadly. “Work, money, needing to survive...” I say, putting the ciggerate out on the concrete of the shingles next to me.

“What if you just left all that shit behind for a while?”

“Trust me I’d love to. But how?” I ask, my hands folded over my stomach.

He twiddles his thumbs anxiously, looking up at the sky as if mentally preparing himself. He turns back to me, his eyes full of hope. “Come with me.”

“What?” I ask, my eyes brows furrowing in confusion.

“Come with me… on tour.” He suggested nervously and my lips slightly parted in shock.

“Are you serious?” I ask and he sits up, me doing the same.

“Yeah, I am. Me and Tyler need another photographer, and your work is stunning. We love your style, I mean we always have. Tyler and I talked about the idea a little bit on call today actually and… we’d really like to bring you on as our photographer for this leg of the tour if you’d be willing to?”

I laugh in disbelief. “I-I’d love to...” I say, running my hand through my hair, my happiness quickly vanishing when I came to the realization that it was completely unrealistic. “But... I can’t.” I sigh and Josh frowns.

“I know it’s last minute but...”

“No, it’s not that.” I interrupted him. “I’m getting married in a few months... I can’t just up and leave. Plus, I can’t even imagine how Logan would react.” I say, thinking about his extreme jealousy over Josh.

“Is that the only thing preventing you from saying yes?”

“Yeah...”

“(Y/n).” He says gently, looking at me with care. “Of course, your partner should be important to you in decisions like this, but he shouldn't be a factor holding you back from something you’ve been dreaming of doing. I know how long you’ve wanted to be a photographer for. I know this is what you believed your future was going to be. Why not make it true? You can always get married later; you have time to move the date. Fulfilling your goals and dreams should be your priority right now, especially if you aren’t exactly happy in your situation.” He reasons softly.

I process his words. He wasn’t wrong. This has always been a passion of mine, and honestly with the boy's rising success during the time I was still working with them, I did believe my future would involve them. It felt fated that I worked for them again in a way. Logan would be the single only factor holding me back from pursuing this, and with the fact that it’s something I genuinely want to do, that shouldn’t be the case. He should understand and support me. I knew that his immediate instinct would most likely not be to do that, but if we had a conversation about this maybe, just maybe he would understand. It was starting to become clear that we do need some space from each other regardless.

“Yeah... ok. Fuck it.” I say with a laugh, not even believing that I was agreeing, and Josh laughs too.

“Really?” he asks excitedly.

“Yes, oh my gosh.” I say, leaning forward and taking Josh into a hug, him chuckling as he hugged me back. “Josh. Thank you so much, this is such a huge opportunity.” I say genuinely as I pull back.

“Of course, you really do deserve it. Tyler and I are beyond thrilled to bring you back on, we missed you.” He says with a smile.

“I missed you guys too.” I say softly, looking off into the distance at the view. The air held a lightness, and an excitement for what was to come. Both were feelings that I hadn't felt in a long time. We sit in comfortable silence, both of us watching the world move below us in our moment of stillness.

#twenty one pilots #josh dun x reader #joshua dun #josh dun #twenty øne piløts #tøp #tøp josh #josh dun fan fic

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