#and hes more miserable than hes ever been | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lightlycareless · 3 days ago

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the jealous y/n i promised. one of them, anyways :)

warnings: naoya used to like someone before you. the thought of it makes you... uncomfortable, by some reason. highschool au. minimal proofreading but sometimes you just gotta let things go...

It all started because someone decided they just had to mess with you on your first trip to Kyoto, during your first school exchange event.

As yearly intended, the game would be hosted on the winning school; not that someone managed to defeat Gojo and Geto, but to shake things a bit the higher ups decided to break the rules and give the opposing school a chance—maybe fighting in their hometowns would help against them.

Coincidentally, this would mark your first time participating, and what better way to do so than by going to a city you’ve never been to?

We’re you excited?

Undoubtedly. How could you not consider these past details?

However, that wasn’t the only (not the most important) notion that had you feeling such way; what actually got you all giddy was the fact that you’d be going with your boyfriend! Which secretly turned this school trip into a small holiday of sorts, a promise of a good time once he offered to take you to the city and show you all kinds of enthralling experiences you wouldn’t be able to find anywhere else.

It was bound to become a memorable visit, one that you wouldn’t be able to forget, worthy enough to share with your eventual children!

And it was… but not for the reasons you expected.

“Ooooh, you know what this trip actually means, right Y/N?” Gojo would begin to stir, as usual. You do your best to ignore him. “You can ignore me all you want, but I’m just warning you, it’s going to be awkward.”

“Awkward?” You blink, taking his bait. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t say it, Satoru…” Geto warns, going against his very nature, which is to rile him further, and instead, showing genuine caution that you’d come to lament later on. “You’re just being cruel.”

“What is? Tell me!” You cry, fallen victim to your curiosity.

“Probably not as cruel as Naoya taking his girlfriend to see his crush. Or past crush, I guess.”

“Crush…?” You blink, your heart dropping to your stomach at the thought of his affections once belonging to someone else. It shouldn’t be that way, of course. Whatever happened before you met him should be beyond your concern.

And yet, you couldn’t stop yourself from torturing yourself with the thought, needlessly wondering who was the lucky girl to previously obtain his attention.

Was she nice? Was she pretty? Did anything manage to happen between the two…?

…

Does she look like you?

You ought to know better than to ask questions you do not want answered.

“Naoya hasn’t told you?” Satoru worried. “He used to have this huge crush on Utahime, like you don’t imagine how big it was; he’d stalk her everywhere she went, turn all red whenever she was near—“

“Satoru!” Suguru condemned, but it was too late.

It’s safe to say you no longer looked forward to your trip to Kyoto.

“She was going to learn so anyways, might as well get it over with!”

“And?? That doesn’t give you permission to be an idiot about it!”

“I’m just preparing Y/N! It’s not my fault that Naoya hasn’t told her about it… which is quite suspicious if you ask me, more so since he’s been in contact with her quite recently! Did you know he asked me for her number? I think he might not be over—“

“Do you ever shut up, Satoru?” You coldly interject, retreating soon after before the tears forming in your eyes could further humiliate you.

Suguru was right, there was no need for him to be as imprudent when it came to the relationship you were clearly very happy with; but you should’ve not let his behavior affect you either, that’s just how he is—everyone knew that—since he was a little kid.

Satoru just had this need to make everyone miserable simply because he could; but now that your insecurities were stirred, all you could do was revisit Naoya’s enthusiasm for your visit… and tie it with Utahime.

Overanalyze every interaction you had with him and wonder if he ever imagined it was her instead of you.

Like when he complimented you for appearance, called you cute when decorating your hair with a bow, which after Satoru’s bold accusations, you come to find it might’ve been because of nostalgia, longing. Not because Naoya actually meant it.

Utahime’s beautiful, there's no denying that.

She's also taller than you, brighter, determined; with no patience for nonsense yet kind enough to help others when asked. You should know, on the few occasions you’ve had the opportunity to interact with her, she was nothing but gentle when explaining one of the assignments you were struggling with—even offering to tutor you if you continued to have questions.

Undoubtedly, a perfect match for Naoya; both politically and personally. A conclusion that makes your poor heart ache the longer you keep comparing yourself to her.

No one looks at her and thinks “she's too childish” or “she's unsuited for the life of sorcery”. In fact, she’s the type of person one would go to when in trouble, the one to look for when in need of comfort.

While you… well, you’re funny. And apparently, a bit childish too. But definitely not the hope for the next generation of sorcerers.

When weighing all these alleged facts, and after placing Utahime on a pedestal while desecrating your own worth, you question…

Did Naoya settle on you because he couldn't end up with her?

Or were you simply a steppingstone, a diversion while they reunite in the future?

…

Are you fated to never be good enough by yourself? Everyone’s second choice when their initial plan doesn’t work?

It's not something you'd discern at a simple glance, but when Naoya begins to act more and more secretive the closer the date of your trip got, the more you're inclined to believe so; his distance had been so glaringly obvious that the only time you’ve managed to spend with him was when accidentally bumping into each other in the hallways when going to your next class.

Still, your stubborn heart gave him one last chance. One more opportunity to deny all the ridiculous claims plaguing your mind and realize that the sole reason he’s glued to his phone is because of his family, tending his responsibilities as heir…

And not because he’s seeking another woman.

“Ah, Y/N… I'm a little behind with some of my projects right now so I don't think I'll be able to join you for lunch… but don’t let that stop you, go ahead, eat something. I wouldn't want my princess to starve because of me”

That’s when everything made sense.

Because Naoya, though he may hate paperwork, essays, and all that deviated from exorcizing curses, he was still an excellent student and always delivered on time. Might’ve coerced someone to do his work from time to time when not in the mood, but it still brought you back to the same conclusion.

A realization that sparked your anger, bitterness��jealousy.

But most importantly, sadness.

Which you could no longer hide the fateful day of your trip.

“Wait, Y/N—! Why are you in such a rush? We’re still on time for the train!” Naoya would say after catching up to you. The two had previously agreed to meet up just outside your dorm and go to the train station together from there; but alas, you were nowhere to be seen when he eventually arrived, and this caused him to be very surprised.

After all, you were virtually inseparable from him; you would’ve spent the night with him if only it wasn’t prohibited. So… why the sudden indifference?

One could only try to be compassionate when remembering this was his first, serious relationship, so there were many things he had yet to learn about having a girlfriend and how to treat her.

It’s just a misfortune he’d come to learn that lesson harshly so.

“I'm fine, thank you.” you frown, ignoring Naoya as you continue to pull your suitcase towards the exit. The faculty gave students two options, either take the provided transportation and ride with the rest of your classmates to the train station or go by yourself.

Solitude was only appetizing with the silent turmoil you carried.

Your boyfriend doesn't say much after that, though he does note the striking difference of your usually bubbly personality with this… muted version of his girlfriend.

When you once harbored excitement to travel to a completely new city, you now… well, it looked as if you'd rather get sick than do this. And it didn’t seem to be caused by anxiety either, he’d seen you nervous and this was not the way you behaved when such.

Not exactly the disposition he hoped for today's happening, and yet, he’s still light years away from figuring why!

Was it better to simply… leave you alone?

“Y/N, let me help you.” he decides otherwise, at least your stubbornness is something he’s familiar with and thus, not easily swayed to back off when you ignore him again. “Princess—”

“Don’t touch me!” You exclaim, pulling your hand away from his. “I said I'm fine, now leave me alone!”

Naoya blinks, at first startled by your sudden outburst, before growing irritated, never one to enjoy being lashed out on—less if it came from someone as important as you.

“What the hell has gotten into you?!’ Naoya scorns, trying to get a hold of your hand only for you to dismiss him again. “I'm just trying to help you!”

“Yeah, right. Just to get there quicker, huh?” you frown.

“I mean, is that not ideal?”

“You're unbelievable.”

“Huh??? Will you at least care to explain why you’re so moody out of the sudden??”

His choice of dismissing words stabs your heart in a sharp, painful way that only serves to ignite your anger even more. Naoya really had no idea, did he?

Or did he believe you were as naïve as he desperately intended to portray you?

“Oh, it’s nothing. Nothing at all! In fact, how about I just step aside so you can do everything you want in Kyoto? Go see who you want to see while I stay behind, quiet, so you won't have to worry about me?!”

“But—what?? Did you forget were supposed to spend time together over there?? Show you the city?!” Naoya exclaims. “What happens to that??”

“I don't know, you tell me!” You cry back. “No, you know what, don't tell me. I don't feel like hearing—”

“Oh, no you're not.” Naoya says, take ahold of your arm and forcing you to see him face to face—getting a good look of your red, swollen eyes from undoubtedly spending the whole night crying, that only made his determination to find out what ailed you even stronger.

And deal with whomever was responsible for this dreadful act.

Even if it was yourself, or unwittingly himself too.

“We're going to spend two hours on a bullet train which I don't intend to have by you ignoring me through the entirety of it.” He goes on.

“Naoya—”

“Who did this to you? Tell me who hurt you and I'll make sure they—”

“Just stop it already! You don't have to set up all these… theatrics just so you can feel less guilty about seeing her!”

“Her?” He breathes, of all things you could’ve sputtered, this is the least, most shocking one he could’ve received. Where did you even get this idea?? “Pray tell, who am I seeing?”

“I don't—I don't want to talk anymore.”

“Y/N!” Naoya exclaims, you flinch—a reaction that has him immediately regretting his act, softening his voice. “I can't help but feel there's a sort of misunderstanding here, just tell me what's going on… Please.”

“...I just want to know if you— if you still harbor feelings for that person before me?”

“Huh?” Naoya frowns. “Talk clearly, mochi. I don't understand a word you're saying—”

“I'm asking if you still like the girl you liked before me!” You cry. “Or perhaps never stopped liking…”

“Who did I like?” He asks back, genuinely confused.

“Are you going to make me say it?!”

“I mean, if we're to get anywhere.”

“Fine! I’m referring to Utahime! You like her, don't you?!”

“Uta—what?? Where did you get that idea?!”

“Don't—don’t act like you don't know what I'm talking about!” You insist. “Satoru told me…”

“Ah, and he's nothing but a reliable source, isn't he?”

“Suguru confirmed it too! Or at least his reaction did…”

Naoya pinches the bridge of his noise, exasperated.

“When are you going to stop believing the stupidities they spew at you?”

“Well, Satoru had no reason to lie about that!”

Naoya can think of many, thousands in fact, and they always boil down to malice…

It's hard to believe how he once used to admire him, even thought of himself as very similar to him. But now that he keeps needlessly tormenting his love, that sentiment is far gone—he’ll deal with that matter soon enough, right after reassuring you he doesn’t have feelings for his past classmate.

Not anymore, that is.

“... Just tell me if you still like her, so I can stay out of your way—”

“I don't like her, Y/N.” Naoya declares. “Honestly, I don't think I ever did.”

“Then why did he say that?”

All must’ve started back when he was still a first-year student, having just transferred from Kyoto after demanding to be close to one of his admirations.

Satoru, always the obnoxious one since the beginning of time, had the tradition of pestering all newcomers in hopes of finding a victim to let out all his frustrations on for the following years; however, his sights were specifically the Zen'in heir whom he was previously acquainted with and was quite surprised to see “interacting with the mortals”, since their families often preferred to homeschool their talents.

Of course, now that he was within reach, he just couldn't miss the opportunity of mocking him in any conceivable shape and form, beginning with questions intended to get a rise out of him.

“Are you trying to tell me you don’t like any of the girls here?” Satoru would begin, for the nth time that day. “Or perhaps left a darling back at home?”

“No, I do not” No matter the insistences, Naoya remained strong in his beliefs, much to Satoru’s disappointment. But if anything, this made it into a far more gratifying challenge.

“Oh, really? Do you expect me to believe the great Zen’in heir has trouble getting with girls?” He continues to tease. “Hm, should’ve known—the only way anyone could tolerate you people is by coercing—"

“Fine! Alright! I like Utahime!” Naoya promptly declared, making Satoru’s expectations… well, shatter. Whatever he had in mind was nothing compared with the seeming reality!

“No way, you like her???!!”

Obviously, for someone as aggravating, set to get the worst of people, he could never truly find enjoyment in Utahime that wasn’t from tormenting her.

But to Naoya… well, he’d soon find out there was more to his answer than just selecting the one he found attractive at the moment.

Just as it was stated, he found Utahime to be quite… alluring. She was fairly good looking, and conservative enough in certain aspects, at least the ones he considered his clan would care of.

Perhaps the only thing he didn’t enjoy was that explosive temperament of hers, how she always fell victim to Satoru’s provocations instead of ignoring him, as a proper lady would’ve.

But he still gave her a chance, tried approaching her, get to know what she thought of him, how much he knew of the Zen’in clan, and most importantly, if she enjoyed being a miko—because such lifestyle could prove detrimental if they got together, and the last thing he needed was more personal struggles to deal with.

Yet, as much as he insisted…as much as Utahime tried to ignore his preceding reputation and give him the benefit of the doubt, nothing would come out from someone that didn’t have the patience to see past of his rough exterior and understand why Naoya was the way he was.

Who he could truly be.

Such things were meant for soulmates, after all.

And all that could’ve been was effectively terminated the moment he decided to transfer to Tokyo.

But for the only other person who saw everything unfold, Satoru, there was still much, much more to exploit.

“...Satoru said you’d always get all flustered whenever she was around” you quietly continue. “So, if you really didn’t like her, why would he say that?”

“Because he'd follow me everywhere to tease me, it was becoming quite… irritating.” He answered honestly, but still not enough to ease your poor heart of its selfish, hurtful assumptions.

“It still doesn't explain why you were talking with her these past few days” you go on, as much as a part of you desired not to. You just wish that whatever you found out, it wouldn't shatter you. “You’d even hide your phone from me…”

Naoya, understanding how bad this looked, sighs. Nonetheless, if he wishes to preserve your affection he cannot hold back on the truth.

“I… I didn't want to tell you, it was meant to be a surprise, really… but, well, I managed to figure out where the exchange event is to happen, which is coincidentally, an area to which Utahime is native to. And since I promised to show you around, take you to the best places…. I thought it might've been productive to ask for her input.

I know I pride myself on being from Kyoto, quite arrogantly so, but the truth is… I barely know anything outside what my family has shown me. I wasn't much of a friendly person so I didn't have anywhere to hang out.

And I didn't want to disappoint you, I couldn't let you down, especially after instantly listening to your excitement. The thought alone of ruining your first trip to the city is enough to drive me mad, so… I believed that doing all this was the right path to take.

… But had I known this would be the outcome, I would rather face your disappointment that to never have you by my side again.”

At his explanation, conformed of genuine words and concerns, all you could do is cry.

Weep at the incredulity of your assumptions, ashamed of your distrustful behavior towards him for once again, believing the past that once plagued Naoya.

How long would it take for your insecurities to finally free you? To stop listening what others whisper at your ear, of how he was the wrong person for you?

Until he decides he’s had enough of your childish antics and leaves for good?

Naoya’s far from perfect, undoubtedly so, but he's trying his hardest and he's changing because of it: when he once cared for nothing but his needs, all he could think of now is your happiness.

Were you willing to disappoint him? Rupture this relationship and lose him forever?

You'd never forgive yourself, which is why you wept, and wept, and wept.

Because you had, right before you, the only thing you ever wanted in life— a man that loved you just as you are—and almost ruined it.

But Naoya, whom perhaps regretted this situation the most, didn’t see the reason behind your tears and instead, believed them to be caused by his own failure, the lack of oversight to realize the gravity of his acts and subsequently poorly attempting to bridge his misjudgment.

A part of him doesn’t worry about your solitude, because he knows you’ll always have your friends and family to support you.

But him… without you, he’s truly alone. And he can’t—couldn’t let you go.

“Tell me, Y/N. What do I need to do for you to believe me? For you to trust me again?” he quickly begins to beg, spew just about anything that might earn him your compassion and forgiveness—one last chance.

Though a simple remedy was all that he needed.

“A—A—hug…!” You sob, and Naoya doesn’t need to be told twice to quickly wrap his arms around you and pull you close into his chest, hoping that by his warmth you’d be reassured into ceasing the one thing that always shattered his heart. “I’m—I’m sorry, I should’ve never distrusted you, it’s just that I—”

“You don’t have to say anything, princess. It was just a mistake.” He says, pressing his face against the top of your head.

“But I shouldn’t have treated you the way I did!” you retort. “I shouldn’t have accused you of something that I wasn’t certain of! Of something you would’ve never done, now I know…”

“Why did you believe that I’d have eyes for another woman in the first place…? Have I not shown you what you mean to me?”

“Ye—yes, but…”

“But?”

You sniffle, before swallowing.

“I guess a part of me always felt undeserving of you.” You confess. “Skeptical to believe I found someone that truly loved me, that’d be willing to do all you’ve done for me.”

Naoya at first remains quiet, starting at you in complete disbelief before letting out a warm chuckle, making you frown.

“What’s funny?”

“Nothing, I just… learned we’re not so different, after all.”

You look up to him. “What do you mean?”

“I too, at times, feel underserving of you.” He confesses. “You don’t know how many times I’ve feared the possibility of you simply… deciding you were no longer happy with me; that you might realize there is someone infinitely better than me and leave.”

A certain friend of yours made sure to revive such sentiment within him whenever nearby.

But just as him, you never had eyes for anyone else that wasn’t the love of your life.

“…I guess that’s another way to know we’re meant for each other.” You quietly discern, resting your face back into his chest while Naoya laughs once more. “Does that mean you’re not… upset with me anymore?”

“Upset? If anything, I was quite delighted to see you jealous; you’re quite cute when you are, you know?” He teases, gently pinching your cheek.

“I wasn’t jealous!” You cry, he raises an eyebrow. “I mean… not without reason.”

“Have I not told you already that you are the most beautiful, adorable, gentlest woman in the whole world?” Naoya continues, you turn bright red.

“Now you’re just embarrassing me!” you gasp, pushing your face deeper into his chest.

“The list is honestly endless, but we do have a train to catch.” He reminds you, making your eyes widen and gasp.

“Oh, my god you’re right! We have to hurry!” you say, ready to fetch your suitcase, before bashfully looking back to him. “…Are you still sitting with me?”

“Unless you’re saving it for a random person.” He raises an eyebrow.

“Nope, and I do not want to run the risk of being paired with a weirdo!” you exclaim. “You have a lot to catch up with me, anyways.”

“I know.” Naoya responds. “Though I doubt talking about preparations and schoolwork will be any exciting.”

“I was thinking something a bit more… personal. Like kisses.” You murmur, and he smirks before leaning down to peck your lips, heart fluttering in return.

“Is that a good way to start?”

You smile, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him back.

“Perfect.”

Your trip to Kyoto proves to be just as exciting as you expected, if not more thanks to all his precedent planning, that you simply couldn’t wait for the day you’d come again.

Thankfully, you’d have plenty of time to do so once convincing Naoya to take you to visit the Zen’in… much to his chagrin. But anything to make you happy, he supposes.

yes i love setting up more stories should I be blamed? NO. ahahaha

anyways, I hoped you enjoyed it 🙈 I couldn't (nor wouldn't) write anything that might be interpreted as slander against utahime cause i don't feel that way about her (though I feel incredibly disappointed that we didn't get to see more of her 😒😒😒😒) but also I couldn't write her in such way that would make one ask "well, if she was so good for naoya then why is he with y/n? lol"

yet I hope I was able to show how immature/selfish he was with her 🤣 asking questions like "I wonder if she's heard of my clan" instead of trying to genuinely get to know her and such. it's the power of love y'all.......................................

aaaah what i mean to say is, I hope you enjoyed this :') i think it's the first time I ever write Naoya taking interest in someone else, even though it was in the past 🤔 still...

take care and hope to see y'all soon!!

p.s. what do y'all think utahime's reaction was to naoya dating y/n? I have a few ideas but have yet to choose one lol.

#naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen

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2i1han · 1 day ago

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if time stood still, would you?

Rewind.

♬ pairing: musician!taesan x fem!reader

♬ word count: 12k

♬ genre: oneshot, angst, romance, nostalgia

♬ tags: 90's au , first love , bandmember!taesan , musicshopowner!taesan , boyfriend!taesan , college!reader , 90's grunge inspired

♬ warnings: mention of accidents/injury , unrequited love , mention of loss/tragedy

♬ synopsis : follows a story about youth, and the passage of time. on your every birthday, you watch an old tape—one you've held onto for decades. in it, a familiar voice from the past makes a promise that was never fulfilled. some things change, but some feelings never do.

♬ playlist : everything/the black skirts , reality/richard sanderson , the last stop of our pain/hanroro , back to the old house/the smiths, no surprises/radiohead , all apologies/nirvana , drain you/nirvana , about you/the 1975 , shower/1968 , silence/sunwoojunga , sunsetz/cas , no.1 party anthem/arctic monkeys , this life/moon sung nam , dream/han hee jung , you&i/kim jong wan , space/the poles

"happy birthday, my beloved y/n."

taesan's voice crackled through the old television speakers, distorted by time yet still undoubtly his. the grainy vhs footage flickered, casting a dim, bluish glow across the room. there he was— forever twenty, wearing his classic nirvana shirt. his face was bright with the kind of smile that had once made your world feel infinite.

"i'm sorry i can't be there today. you know i love you, right?"

your fingers curled tightly around the edge of the couch, knuckles turning white as you tried to keep yourself steady. but it was useless. the warmth of his tender voice, familiar, and you yearn for, sent a fresh wave of tears pooling in your eyes.

"the first time i met you, it was as if my world pressed 'play' for the first time. before you, my life felt like a song stuck on pause—waiting, and unfinished. but then you came along, and suddenly, everything made sense. you are the music that turned my silence into something beautiful."

the screen flickered as the tape struggled to play smoothly, but you didn't need to hear the rest. you already knew every word, every pause, every soft breath he took between sentences.

"y/n, today is your day, and i need you to promise me something—smile, even if i'm not there. celebrate, even if it's just for yourself. because you deserve every bit of happiness this world has to offer. and don't you worry, next time, we'll celebrate together. i promise it. we'll be together soon."

this message had been meant as a temporary goodbye—a placeholder for the promise that never came.

"i love you more than yesterday, and less than tomorrow, my dear darling, always."

han taesan. the only man you had ever loved. the only man you would ever love.

a sharp pain formed in your throat as you reached for the remote, pressing the power button with trembling fingers. the tv screen faded to black, leaving only your miserable reflection staring back at you.

a soft knock came from the door.

"come in," you called.

the door creaked open, and your niece, yujin, stepped inside, her gaze immediately landing on your pale face.

"you're crying," she said knowingly, her voice was gentle as she walked closer. "watching his clip again?"

you didn't answer, only swallowing back the lump in your throat as you wiped at your damp cheeks. careful taps, trying not to ruin the mascara you had applied earlier. you turned to the mirror, fixing the smudged edges of your makeup carefully—as if concealing your tears was something you had mastered over the years.

yujin sighed softly. "come on, the guests are waiting downstairs." she hesitated for a moment.

"happy 49th birthday, auntie."

you forced a small, tired smile and turned to her, pulling her into a gentle hug.

"let's go downstairs," you finally said.

as yujin walked ahead, you turned back toward the vhs player. your hands slightly trembled as you ejected the tape, the small cassette still warm from playing. you placed it carefully inside a worn-out box, the edges are frayed but you still refuse to let go of it.

with one last glance at the screen, you followed yujin out of the room.

▶• ılıılıılılılıılıılı.

the laughter still lingered through the dining area, the hum of conversation echoed through the house. plates clinked in the kitchen, wine glasses half-empty on the white table. the warmth of candlelight flickered across the walls, reflecting orange hues over the framed photographs—pictures of years that passed too quickly.

"going out?" your sister asked as she cleared the plates, glancing at you from the kitchen.

you stood by the coat rack, adjusting the sleeves of your white coat. "yeah, gonna fetch some, uh... more wine from the store." you offered her a small smile, though it didn't reach your eye.

she didn't question it, she already knew.

your sister just gave you a nod, the same look she always did whenever you slipped away. making excuses while you go out.

you turned toward the door, exhaling as you stepped outside. the cold air brushed on your skin, opposite to the warmth of the house behind you. your feet moved instinctively, leading you to your car. but you weren't heading for the wine store. no, this was something else entirely.

a habit of yours from a wound that never healed.

the drive was short. five minutes away from home. a lifetime away from your past that you still keep on returning to.

as you pulled up by the sidewalk, your hands stayed on the steering wheel, looking at the music shop stood just outside, unchanged. a piece of memory frozen in time.

you then stepped out, clutching your coat around yourself as you made your way to the entrance.

the door was the same—beige paint slightly chipped, a large glass pane in the middle. the brass bell chimed softly as you pushed it open, and the scent of aged vinyl wrapped around the room, enveloped in nostalgia.

inside, are the same shelves, the same wooden counters, the same dim lighting that cast an old glow over rows of vinyl records. the walls were lined with faded posters—nirvana, oasis, the beatles. his personal favorites.

your fingers grazed the spines of the records, stopping at the one you always reached for— mtv unplugged, nirvana.

"the usual?"

a familiar voice came from beside you, the shopkeeper—now in his 50s— wore a smile.

you just looked for a moment, then nodded. "yeah... this one's a classic."

"you know, you could always buy it," he chuckled. "you've been a regular here since back then."

you exhaled softly. "no... i'm fine with listening to it here. every week, through that old player."

you nodded toward the turntable in the corner, the needle was worn but still working, still playing the soundtrack of your youth.

the shopkeeper didn't push. he never did. instead, he just gave you a nod before turning away.

and then, the bell chimed again.

a woman walked in, followed by two girls in their early twenties. their laughter filled the room—light, gentle, untouched by the weight of the past.

"hi, dad!" one of the girls beamed, holding up a paper bag. "we stopped by the store. figured we'd bring some snacks!"

the shopkeeper—their father, smiled as he walked toward them, his voice livelier, happier than you'd ever heard it before.

and for the first time in years, you allowed yourself to look. really look.

one of the girls had his eyes. the same deep gaze you had drowned in long ago. and the other had his smile. that comforting smile that once made your whole life felt complete.

you stood there, vinyl still clutched in your trembling hands, as you watched the scene in front of you. the way they laughed, the way they easily existed in a world you no longer belonged to— you once belonged to.

your vision blurred, but you didn't cry. not yet.

instead, you closed your eyes for a little moment, letting the nostalgia sink in.

and then, the memories rewound.

↺ rewind, to 1994

detention, again.

you sat slumped at your desk, one foot tucked up on the chair, the other tapping impatiently against the floor. the loose jogging pants you had sneakily worn under your school skirt bunched at your ankles, but at least they kept you warm in this freezing classroom.

the culprit behind your punishment?

blasting rock music through the entire school's p.a. system like some kind of teenage anarchist.

the sentence of your crime?

will not trespass in the p.a. room again. written over and over on a sheet of lined paper, front to back, no gaps, no mercy.

you sighed loudly—for the fifth time. maybe sixth. you had lost count.

your teacher, the one who was supposed to be watching over you? passed out at their desk, head tilted back, mouth slightly open, snoring softly.

then, you eyed the window, thinking of an escape plan. but, when you second looked towards it, ryujin's grinning face popped up out of nowhere.

"psst—hey!" she whispered through the glass. same mischievous smirk.

"what now?" you muttered, barely looking up as you kept scribbling.

"new arrivals at mr. han's shop." she wiggled her eyebrows, waving both hands to hurry you up.

your head snapped up. new arrivals?

that changed everything. your mild consideration of escaping turned into a fully thought-out plan in less than a second.

the only problem? you were on the second floor.

but, of course, ryujin had a plan—she always did. she clung to a pillar outside, balancing on a maintenance ladder that neither of you were supposed to have access to. the school had confiscated it multiple times, but ryujin, being the delinquent mastermind she was, had bribed some p.e. students into sneaking it out.

"hurry up, dude!" she hissed, motioning for you to move.

you glanced at your sleeping teacher one last time. and then, out the window you went.

the cold metal of the ladder chilled your palms as you climbed down, ryujin barely holding it steady. both of you hit the pavement without getting caught. bingo.

giddy with adrenaline, the two of you bolted for the front gate, ducking past groups of students as if you were fugitives on the run.

your destination? flannel culture. your sacred safe haven. the best record shop in town.

ryujin had barely finished telling you about the new vinyl arrivals before you were both sprinting down the street, nearly tripping over your own feet in your hurry to get there first. your neatly tied ponytail had come completely undone, strands of hair flying everywhere.

by the time you reached the shop, breathless and slightly messy, mr. han—the owner, was already grinning behind the counter.

"morning, mr. han!" ryujin greeted, barely winded.

"i knew you two would get here before anyone else," he chuckled, arms crossed like he had been expecting this exact scenario.

you barely heard him. you were already beelining for the vinyls.

"sweet! these are fresh off the press!" you gasped, flipping through the stack, fingers gliding over brand-new releases.

"ditto," ryujin muttered, just as focused.

"i'll be behind the counter if you girls need anything," mr. han called out, but you were already in the zone.

your fingers immediately skimmed through the fresh arrivals, heart hammering in anticipation.

"definitely maybe" by oasis.

"dookie" by green day.

"weezer" by weezer.

"holy shit," you whispered, eyes widening as you flipped through the stack.

"jar of bells..." no idea.

then, you found it.

"mtv unplugged."

you had barely muttered the title under your breath when another voice joined in.

"mtv unplugged..."

you turned to find yourself face-to-face with a guy you hadn't noticed before—probably because you had been way too invested in the stack of squares in front of you.

and he was cool. nirvana shirt, ripped jeans, red flannel tied around his hips, short black hair, clear skin, a damn good jawline, and a smirk that only grew as he caught you staring.

your eyes flickered back to the vinyl still clutched in your hands, grip tightening. he was looking at it. he wanted it.

no way in hell.

your grip tightened.

"mtv unplugged. new release," he mused, glancing down at the album still clutched in your hands.

your hold on it locked. damn right, it was.

the boy chuckled, clearly entertained by the death grip you had on it.

"you should go for nevermind first." his voice was casual—like he wasn't trying to steal your vinyl right in front of you.

you shot him a narrow-eyed stare. "i've already listened to every single song on nevermind."

his smirk grew, realizing you weren't going to budge, he let out a short laugh and reached for a cd.

"fine, i'll let you have that one."

he grabbed nevermind instead, the cd, inspecting it with an approving nod.

your heart rate finally slowed down. victory is mine.

as he turned to go to the counter, he glanced over his shoulder one last time. "good taste, by the way."

and with that, he turned his back, leaving you standing there—still clutching your vinyl like your life depends on it.

ryujin strolled back over, a comic book in hand, the corners of her mouth curling into a knowing smirk.

"dude… who was that?" she asked, raising an eyebrow, her voice low enough not to attract any unwanted attention.

you exhaled slowly, trying to hide the faint blush creeping up your neck. "i don't know, but he tried to rob me off a good vinyl," you muttered, still clutching the album in your hands.

ryujin snickered. "classic." she bumped your shoulder lightly before pulling out the book, flipping it open to the next page. "come on, let's listen to it."

with a shrug, you led the way to the player, and the two of you settled next to each other, comic books in hand. the needle dropped onto the record, you plugged in the headphone jack. the soft crackle travelling through before the music swelled. for the next few minutes, you both silently absorbed the music through wires.

by the time the last track played, you were practically fighting back tears. it was almost dramatic how much you adored the album.

"that was gnarly," you said, as you carefully set the vinyl back in its case, treating it like the treasure it was.

ryujin nodded without looking up from her comic. "nirvana was the real shit." she shifted, tapping the side of her comic with a finger. "go look for more new arrivals. we haven't even finished this one yet."

you let out a half-hearted groan but couldn't resist. you liked the idea of finding more gems, anyway. but as you strolled back toward the shelves, your eyes caught something familiar.

it was him.

the guy from earlier. he was sitting near the counter now, leaning against the wall with a cd player in hand, his earphones hanging loosely around his neck. his relaxed posture and the way he completely disappeared into the moment caught your attention.

you looked down at the album in your hand, then back at him.

"poor guy…" you muttered under your breath. "if he doesn't get to listen to it right away."

without thinking, you walked over, tapping his shoulder lightly. he glanced up, removing his earphones with a raised brow.

"hey," you said, offering him the vinyl. "i noticed mr. han doesn't have the mtv unplugged cd in stock yet. it'd be a shame if you didn't get to listen to it instantly. it's really good."

the guy smiled, his eyes softening as he accepted the record from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours just for a moment.

"thanks," he said, the gratitude in his voice making you feel like you had done something right for once.

"you can use the turntable over there," you gestured toward the corner of the shop, where the record player sat. "there's a headphone jack available."

he nodded and walked past you, heading over to the turntable while you returned to ryujin's side.

"where was it?" she asked, nudging your shoulder.

you shrugged, your attention still on the guy who was now setting up the record player, eyes already closed as he settled into the music. "let's just play another after he finishes," you muttered, your head leaning closer to ryujin's comic, pretending to focus.

ryujin narrowed her eyes at you, the smirk creeping back. "you're way too generous today."

you flicked her arm. "focus. i don't want to wait for you to flip the page." she rolled her eyes but continued reading, letting you do what you do best.

it wasn't long before ryujin's stomach growled, cutting through the silence between the two of you.

"go grab something to eat," you said, pointing to the door. "i'll wait here."

she shot you a look, rolling her eyes dramatically. "you better not flip through the pages while i’m gone."

"promise nothing," you replied without missing a beat.

as soon as ryujin disappeared out the door, you leaned over and sneakily turned the comic to the next page.

but then, a voice caught your attention again.

"thank you," the guy from earlier said, appearing beside you, looking almost embarrassed to interrupt.

you jumped up, startled. "oh, it's nothing," you quickly reassured him, trying to brush off the awkwardness. "how was it?"

he smiled, almost sheepish. "as expected, it was great." he chuckled softly, adjusting his cd player.

you smiled in return, feeling the familiar rush of excitement when talking about music. "i freaking know, they've always been the best." the conversation flowed just naturally.

"i'm taesan," he said, a hand rising awkwardly in the air like he wasn't quite sure whether to offer a handshake or just a wave. "i'm the son of the owner of this shop."

you froze for a second. internally, you cursed your luck. of course, you had competed over the vinyl with the son of the shop's owner. but whatever, the early bird gets the worm, right?

"jang y/n," you replied with a smile, reaching for his hand. "nice to meet you."

you both sat down, the tension easing as you settled into conversation.

"were you playing nevermind earlier on the cd player?" you asked, curiosity getting the best of you.

taesan hummed, his lips pouting as he thought for a moment. "yeah, i was. what's your favorite song?"

you leaned back slightly, thinking. "hmm, probably all apologies. especially the instrumental break. god, i love that song." your voice trailed off as you grinned widely, caught up in the thought of the song.

taesan laughed softly, eyes glimmering with something like amusement. "you're passionate. i like that."

you chuckled awkwardly, hoping the blush creeping up your cheeks wasn't too obvious.

"so," you said, eager to keep the conversation going. "do you go to school here?"

he nodded. "yeah, i'm at a university just one bus ride away from here."

you processed that for a moment, realizing with a small sigh that he probably wasn’t talking about your university. but still, you smiled. "oh, cool."

a comfortable silence settled between you two but that didn't feel awkward at all.

then, the chime of the record store door rang out, and you barely had time to look up before ryujin strolled back in, but her hands were empty. no takeout bags, no snacks—just an exhausted expression as she groaned dramatically.

"where' the food?" you asked, frowning.

ryujin groaned like she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. "the convenience store ran out of kimbap, and the cashier was taking a lifetime to restock. let's just go eat at the food court. i need actual fuel if you want me to swing around longer."

"but—" your eyes flickered toward the bench where your bag sat. taesan was still there, his fingers idly drumming against the wooden surface as he looked at you and ryujin, confused. you hesitated, glancing between ryujin and the him.

before you could make a decision, mr. han waved you off with a smile. "go ahead, kid. your stuff's safe here."

ryujin had already grabbed you "move it. you'll live."

you barely had time to turn to taesan and wave. "we'll be back!" with a sigh, you let ryujin drag you out the door.

▶• ılıılıılılılıılıılı.

you spent the next twenty minutes watching in mild horror as ryujin absolutely demolished two platters of bibimbap and a side of banchan. she didn't even pause between bites.

"you know, for someone who complains about getting broke from buying comics, you sure eat like a king," you muttered, stabbing at your food halfheartedly.

ryujin barely looked up, shoving another spoonful into her mouth. "shut up—'s called survival."

you exhaled, pushing a few grains of rice around your plate.

you wanted to get back to mr. han's shop.

at first, you convinced yourself that it was just because of the new vinyl arrivals. you hadn't even finished browsing yet—there were at least three more shelves to go through, and you hadn't checked if they had any used tapes in stock.

but then your mind drifted back to taesan.

you could still picture his thoughtful expression, the way his eyebrows furrowed when he was trying to pick a favorite nirvana song. the way he had smirked slightly when he caught you rambling about all apologies.

you shook your head. nope. it was definitely about the records.

and the moment ryujin swallowed her last bite, you practically dragged her back toward mr. han's store.

but as soon as you stepped inside—taesan was gone.

you scanned the shop, almost hoping he'd just moved to a different section, but his spot near the turntable was empty. the warmth that had settled in your chest earlier flickered out, replaced by something you didn't know what.

you deflated instantly. ryujin barely noticed, already flipping through another volume of the comic she was reading earlier. you debated for a second before hesitantly walking over to mr. han at the counter.

"mr. han?"

the old man didn't even look up from his book. "mmm?"

you shifted awkwardly. "uh… do you know where taesan went?"

that's when he finally glanced up with a smirk. "i knew both of you would instantly match," he said, amusement laced in his voice.

you blinked. huh?

he simply chuckled, flipping a page. "he went back to school for a band practice. he has a packed schedule on weekdays."

you tried and failed not to look too disappointed as you dragged yourself back to the bench where ryujin was sitting.

she barely looked up from her comic. "what was that gloom all about?"

you flopped down next to her. "nothing."

"also," she continued, flipping a page dramatically, "why are you suddenly being all buddy-buddy with that music thief?"

you rolled your eyes. "come on, he's nice, ryu."

ryujin scoffed. "wow, you're saying that like you weren't just playing tug-of-war with him over a vinyl a few hours ago."

you ignored her, pulling out your book from your bag—then froze.

there, stuck to the back of your bag, was a small yellow sticky note.

your eyes narrowed as you peeled it off, fingers smoothing over the inked numbers scrawled in slightly messy handwriting. a pager number. and beneath it, just one word:

—taesan.

you froze, staring at the note like it had just fallen from the heavens, and for a moment, you forgot how to function.

your face went from deadpan to pure joy in under three seconds. you had to physically stop yourself from grinning too hard because ryujin would never let you live it down.

carefully, you peeled the sticky note off your book and folded it neatly. you then placed it inside your pencil case like it was some kind of rare artifact.

firmly, securely, so it wouldn't fly away.

ryujin finally looked up, her eyes narrowing. "why do you look like you just won the lottery?"

"no reason," you said quickly, zipping your pencil case shut.

ryujin stared at you for a long moment before muttering, "i don't like the look on your face."

you just smiled, pushing her shoulders.

and, the second you got home, you threw your bag onto the floor and face-planted onto your bed. you rolled onto your back and snatched your beeper off the nightstand like it was holy.

you sat up, unfolded the sticky note, and traced the inked numbers with your thumb.

your heart thumped.

should you page him now? would that seem too eager? maybe you should wait. play it cool.

you glanced at your clock. it had literally been twenty seconds.

groaning, you rolled onto your stomach, kicking your feet against the mattress like some schoolgirl in a romance movie. then, without giving yourself time to overthink—you punched in the numbers and sent a simple message:

"hope class didn't bore you to death. thanks for the sticky note. - jang y/n"

the second you hit send, you muffled a scream into your pillow.

what the hell were you doing? what if he didn't reply? what if he thought you were annoying? what if—

your beeper vibrated almost immediately and quickly scrambled so fast you nearly dropped it.

"would've been worse if i didn't have all apologies stuck in my head. consider this your official music karma. - taesan"

a stupid, uncontrollable grin stretched across your face. you flopped onto your back, rolling around in pure, ridiculous giddiness, nearly sending your comforter tumbling to the floor.

before you could even type a response, another beep flashed across the tiny screen.

"7 pm? dad's store. - taesan."

you froze.

you clutched your beeper like it was a lifeline, rereading the message again. and again. was he… asking you out? no. no way. it was just a hangout. a casual thing between new friends.

you shook your head, forcing yourself to focus, and typed back quickly:

"sure! meet you there. - y/n"

then, you practically leaped off your bed and dashed to your closet. your hands flew across the hangers, eyes scanning every piece of clothing like you were preparing for the most important night of your life.

denim skirt? too much.

plaid jeans? too casual.

then you caught yourself.

you groaned, pressing your forehead against the closet door. why am i even stressing over this? it's not a date. it's not.

exhaling sharply, you grabbed a denim skirt and a brown flannel, slipping them on before you could second-guess yourself.

▶• ılıılıılılılıılıılı.

you were walking ridiculously slow.

your heart drummed against your ribs, your hands fidgeting with your sleeves. you told yourself you weren't nervous. you told yourself this was just some casual meet-up.

but the second you spotted taesan standing outside the now-closed store, your breath caught in your throat. he hadn't noticed you yet.

earphones in, cd player in hand, his head tilted slightly upward as if lost in the music. his eyes were closed, his expression relaxed—lips barely parted, a faint, smile playing at the edges.

you hesitated, just watching him for a second.

the streetlights cast a soft golden hue over him, making the moment feel unreal—like something out of an indie film, grainy and warm, like a memory you were supposed to witness and never forget.

you bit your lip. then, finally, you stepped forward and lightly tapped his arm.

taesan's eyes fluttered open, turning to meet yours. his expression shifted instantly—calm turning to warmth, like the moment you step into a sunlit room after the cold.

"hey," he said, pulling his earphones out and tucking his cd player into his large pocket.

"hey," you echoed, stuffing your hands into your skirt's pockets. you glanced at the shop door behind him. "so... where to? mr. han already closed the store."

taesan just grinned. then, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a key, dangling it between two fingers. "i'm not the owner's son for nothing."

a subtle laugh escaped your lips. you shook your head as he turned, unlocking the door and pushing it open. the blinds remained closed, keeping the outside world at bay.

inside, the air was warm. the scent of old records and faint aroma of coffee hung in the contained air. taesan flipped the switch, and the shop lit up—not with the bright, fluorescent glare of daytime but with the muted, greenish glow of the overhead bulbs. the only other source of light came from the street lamps outside, their soft yellowish tint seeping in through the cracks of the blinds.

you puckered your lips, stepping in and looking around.

taesan closed the door behind you with a soft click before roaming around the store.

"i have a favorite here, and i want you to listen to it," taesan said as he made his way to a shelf tucked in the corner.

you watched as he ran his fingers over the spines of records. then, with a small, satisfied hum, he pulled one out and turned to you, holding it up to show you.

you leaned in, studying the cover. the title and artist were unfamiliar. taesan noticed your puzzled look and smirked.

"you haven't heard of it, huh?"

you shook your head, but a smile crept up your lips. but that only made you more eager. something new. something taesan liked.

a small smile tugged at your lips. "i've never heard of this one."

"even better." he grinned.

taesan walked over to the turntable by the counter, motioning for you to follow. you stood close beside him as he carefully placed the vinyl onto the platter. the way he handled it—gentle, the kind only someone who truly cherished music would have, made you watch him a little longer than necessary.

"it's reality, by richard sanderson," he murmured, lowering the needle. "me and dad used to listen to this a lot when it first came out. i was eleven."

then, he turned to you, slipping the headphones gently over your ears.

you blinked up at him, caught off guard by the sudden closeness. his fingers barely brushed your skin as he adjusted the ear cups, making sure they sat just right. he was so close that you could see the way his lashes fanned over his cheeks, the way the dim lighting softened his already soft features.

for some reason, you couldn't bring yourself to say anything.

the vinyl crackled. and then—music.

a slow, dreamy melody slipped into your ears. nostalgic, like the kind of song that belonged to another lifetime. your lips parted slightly as a smile crept onto your face.

you let your head tilt slightly, eyes fixed on the wall in front of you, absorbing every note. your fingers tapped lightly against the table in time with the beat, a small, unconscious movement.

and taesan— he just stood there, watching you.

the muffled sound of the song spilled from the headphones, barely audible, but he didn't need to hear it to know exactly what you were experiencing. he saw it in the way your eyes shimmered slightly, the way your breath seemed to sync with the rhythm, the way you looked like you were slipping into some other world entirely.

for a moment, everything slowed.

he should've looked away. should've focused on the music, or the record spinning beneath the needle, or literally anything else. but he didn't.

he just stood there, completely still, watching you as if you were the song itself.

you let your eyes flutter shut, surrendering to the music, letting it paint a scene behind your eyelids. a quiet, hazy film reel of things you couldn't quite place—warm streetlights, cityscapes blurring past, the kind of love that only existed in faded polaroids.

and taesan, he only saw one thing, a whole moment right in front of him.

the song had already started to fade out.

you opened your eyes, expecting taesan to finally move— to lift the needle off the vinyl, maybe say something about the track, but he didn't. he just stood there, watching you, completely still, as if he hadn't noticed the music had ended.

"i loved the song. really." you smiled, still caught in the the melody. "thank you for letting me hear it. it's something special to you, so... i feel honored."

your lips curled into a small, tight-lipped smile as you tilted your head slightly.

but taesan didn't reply.

he only stared, looking at you in that same quiet, unfazed way—as if he was trying to memorize you, to carve this exact moment into his mind so he wouldn't forget it.

you tried looking anywhere else. the wall behind him, the floor, the logo on his shirt, but your eyes kept finding its way back to his.

then, finally, he spoke.

"you're interesting." his voice was low, almost amused, a small, endearing smile on his face.

you let out a nervous chuckle, trying to shake off the weight of his stare. "i am always interesting." you threw in a playful shrug, encouraging whatever thought had just crossed his mind.

taesan laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he turned back to the turntable, carefully placing the vinyl back into its sleeve. "no, i mean it. you are interesting."

you froze for half a second before sinking onto the bench beside the turntable desk, looking up at him. "you just met me."

taesan placed the vinyl on the desk before settling next to you. his head tilted back slightly, gaze drifting up to the ceiling, lost in thought.

"it's the first time someone's ever beaten me to a vinyl," he said with a chuckle, recalling what had happened earlier morning. "the way you gripped onto it with that look on your face—i don't know, i just thought it was funny. interesting. made me wanna know you."

his voice was quieter now, as you carefully listened.

"but then..." he exhaled, his hands resting loosely on his knees. "the way you listened to music—the way you get lost in it, i think that's what really got me."

he turned slightly, just enough so that you could see the corner of his lips quirk up.

"and when you gave me that vinyl, i guess that was it."

you blinked. that was it?

"but, you know," he added with a slight laugh, "your friend kinda stole you away before i could even say anything. then i had band practice, so..."

you remembered something then. the sticky note.

narrowing your eyes, you leaned forward. "how did you even know which bag was mine?"

taesan chuckled. "hmm... let's just say you have a pretty unique in utero keychain hanging from your zipper."

you let out a breath—half a laugh, half genuine disbelief.

"you're observant," you muttered.

taesan's smile faded slightly. "i'm observant when it matters."

he then turned his head toward you, while yours remained far away, simply existing in the moment. the air between you was still, the occasional whoosh of cars passing by outside, blurred and distant. it was quiet, but not empty.

then, as if sensing his gaze, you turned your head—only to find him already looking. but he didn't look away.

"let's go out," he said. his tone was steady, and effortless. no hesitation can be sensed

you nodded, tapping your lap before pushing yourself up to stand in front of him. "let's go?"

taesan let out a low chuckle, shifting upright from his relaxed lean, his eyes still fixed on you. "out." a smirk tugged at his lips, "like, a date."

you stood there, blinking at him, gazing in the way his eyes shimmered—starrier than the sky outside. you didn't think. you didn't need to. it felt like a decision had already been made long before this moment.

"okay," you said. "let's go out."

there was no rush of surprise, no shift in the air—just a mutual understanding, easy and natural, like falling into place. the way you spoke, the way he asked, the way his voice filled the quiet, and the way you both existed in each other's presence. it felt like you had known him in every lifetime before this.

taesan simply smiled, standing up with ease. "it's a date, then. but—" he said, glancing at the store's old stereo, "we're not going out just yet. it's still early, and we've got more music to dance to." he grinned, stepping away to browse through the shelves, searching for the next song.

you watched him move, the way he hopped from one record to another, flipping through them with an enthusiasm that made the moment feel infinite. and just like that, the night went on in your own little world.

two month had passed since you and taesan made it official.

at first, it was almost amusing how natural it felt—how seamlessly he fit into your life, as if he had always been there. after weeks of getting to know him, of late-night messages filled with laughter and quiet walks where words weren't needed, saying yes to him wasn't difficult at all. the only real challenge had been your parents, who—like all parents—wanted to make sure he was worthy of you. they made him chop firewood for grill nights, tested his patience with endless questions, and gave him skeptical looks whenever he came over. but taesan, with his charm and sincerity, had won them over before long. now, he was not just your taesan, but theirs too.

after spending the day hanging out with ryujin and the others, you were heading home. and there he was—waiting at your gate, earphones over his head as always.

even after all this time, the sight of him still made your heart race. it reminded you of the first time you both went out, of how everything had started.

smiling, you skipped toward him and playfully shook his shoulders.

"hi!"

taesan's expression immediately shifted, his cold face melting into the warmest, brightest smile.

"you made it." he beamed. "how was today?"

before you could answer, he wrapped his arms around you, swaying you gently from side to side.

"fine," you mumbled against his chest. "but i'm tired."

taesan pulled back just enough to hold your shoulders, leaning down slightly so your faces were level.

"wanna go for a walk? or stay in?" he reached up, tucking a few stray hairs behind your ear.

you smiled. "come on, let's walk."

he would've objected. if it weren't for the genuine excitement in your voice, he would've already ushered you inside and made you dinner.

but instead, he laced his fingers with yours, walking around the quiet neighborhood, hands swaying back and forth.

then, after a few moments of silence, taesan glanced at you.

"i wanna show you something," he said.

you raised a brow. "what is it?"

he only chuckled before moving behind you, gently placing his hands on your shoulders and guiding you forward.

"come on. trust me."

and of course, you did. you always do.

as you neared a greener part of the neighborhood, taesan suddenly spoke again.

"close your eyes."

you blinked up at him.

"if you look now, the surprise will be spoiled," he added, a small smirk on his face.

wanting to play along, you let out a soft laugh before nodding and shutting your eyes. taesan's pace slowed as he led you forward, his hands still firm on your shoulders.

your heart beat faster with each step. then, finally, you came to a stop.

you could feel taesan's presence in front of you, towering. his voice was gentle when he said, "open your eyes."

slowly, you did.

as your vision adjusted, the first thing you saw was his glowing smile. and behind him— a tree.

not just any tree, but a large, beautiful one standing tall in the night, its branches stretching over a small wooden bench. fireflies floated lazily through the air, their soft glow twinkled like tiny stars. dimly lit post lights stood around, casting everything in a cozy dim.

it was breathtaking. like something out of a dream. like something you'd only read about in a story, but never expect to see in real life.

and yet, here it was. with taesan.

your chest swolled with joy as your eyes welled up. you turned back to him, voice barely above a whisper.

"this is beautiful..." without thinking, you pulled him into a hug. "i love you, taesan."

for a moment, he didn't say anything.

then, he gently grabbed your shoulders again, tilting your chin up so you were looking into his eyes.

"i love you most, y/n."

then, with a small nod toward the bench, he spoke, "come, let's sit. i prepared something for you."

you followed as he led you to the seat, your fingers still tangled together.

then, you noticed a brown acoustic guitar leaning against the tree. taesan reached for it, settling next to you as he rested the instrument on his lap.

you smiled, leaning your head against his shoulder.

"i've sung a lot of songs for you already," taesan said. he let his fingers glide across the strings of his guitar, testing the weight of the moment before continuing. "but this one... this one's different."

you looked up as his lips curved into the smallest smile, his gaze shifting between you and the instrument in his hands. the glow of the streetlamp nearby cast golden light over his face, making him look almost unreal—like something out of an old, forgotten film.

"i started writing this the night we first went out. i add to it day by day," he admitted, his voice hushed, as if the confession itself was fragile. "after we crashed at my dad's shop. i don't know... i just felt like i had to put it into words. and now, i think it's time for you to hear it."

something in your heart ached at his sincerity. the night was quiet, save for the hum of cicadas and the occasional rustling of the leaves with every breeze that passed. the world seemed to pause just for the two of you.

then, the first strum. a comforting sound, followed by the melody that caressed you like a lullaby.

"you're my everything, the light that lingers in my eyes, the whisper in the quiet rain—the warmth that fills my empty skies."

you closed your eyes, letting the music pull you in. each note, each lyric, felt like it was written from the very core of your moments together—the stolen glances, the panicked laughter under sudden rains that caught both of you, the silence in the back of the store just listening to old tunes.

"on rainy days, we lie in silence, no words, just breathing, heart to heart. with closed eyes, the world dissolves—only you and i exist in the dark."

taesan's voice was dreamy, filled with something deeper than words could capture. it wasn't just a song; it was a piece of him.

and then, without realizing, a single tear slipped past your closed eyelids.

taesan's voice softened as he reached the last verse, his gaze never leaving you.

"and if you change, if time should fade you, know i will take you as you are, for even then, you'll be my always, my everything—my guiding star."

the song faded, but the air still hung with its presence. taesan placed the guitar down, his hands immediately finding their way to your face, thumbs brushing against your damp cheeks.

"open your eyes, my love," he whispered.

you did, only to find him looking at you as if you were the only thing in the world worth seeing.

"you're the most precious thing that's ever happened to me, y/n," he said, his forehead resting against yours. "no music, no melody—nothing will ever compare to the harmony you brought into my life."

a soft kiss landed on your forehead, filled with so much meaning.

"happy birthday, beautiful."

you barely found your voice, still drowning in the moment. "but... my birthday isn't for another two days," you whispered.

taesan chuckled, his fingers tracing along your jawline. "i know. but i'll be leaving for gwangju tomorrow. my mom needs me for a while." his voice held a slight hesitation. "just for a week. and when i'm back, i swear, we'll do whatever you want. just you and me."

you wanted to believe those words more than anything. but deep inside, something held you back, a feeling you couldn't describe. as if a part of you already knew—this moment, this song, this night, would be the last perfect memory you'd have of taesan.

still, you smiled, pushing the unease aside.

"okay," you whispered, reaching for his hand, squeezing it just a little tighter.

"i'll wait."

and in that moment, you had no idea that those two simple words would become the cause of your life falling apart.

▶• ılıılıılılılıılıılı.

morning arrived too soon, and with it, the inevitable farewell. you stood at the station, watching taesan board the train. at that moment, it felt like nothing more than a temporary goodbye—a short hurdle to overcome before he would be back in your arms in just a week.

but now, looking back, the memory plays differently in your mind. the scene isn't just a brief separation anymore—it's the sight of watching your life leave you, like grains of sand slipping through the gaps of your fingers, no matter how tightly you tried to hold on.

you waited. the two of you depended on a single beeper for communication, and though the messages were short and few, you cherished every one.

then, as the morning of your birthday approached, you found yourself at mr. han's vinyl store with ryujin.

"good morning, mr. han," you greeted, pushing through the door.

"early today, huh?" the old man smiled at you, his eyes kind. "happy birthday, daughter. i'm sorry taesan couldn't be here for your special day, but rest assured, he'll be back by monday."

his words melted in your heart. mr. han had always been more than just the owner of your favorite record store—he had been a constant presence in your life since you were thirteen, and now, he was taesan's father. the thought alone made you feel closer to him, even with the miles between you.

"she can't 'rest assured' anymore, mr. han," ryujin teased. "your daughter-in-law nearly got a fever from homesickness, you know. being away from her home and all."

you rolled your eyes, nudging her shoulder. "shut up."

mr. han chuckled. "here, i'm gifting this to you." he reached beneath the counter, pulling out a vinyl wrapped carefully in plastic.

you took it hesitantly, but as soon as your eyes landed on the cover, your face lit up. "in utero? no way! this is so sweet, thank you so much, mr.—"

"ah," he held up a hand, stopping you. "no more 'mr. han.' call me dad from now on."

"you've been a regular here since you were a stubborn 7th grader," he continued, smiling easily. "and now you're my son's girlfriend. so, no more formalities, alright?"

something in you softened at that. without thinking, you leaned against the counter, wrapping your arms around him in a hug.

"i feel like i'm at a family reunion i wasn't invited to," ryujin joked, shaking her head beside you.

mr. han grinned, then reached for another package. "oh, and this—this one's from taesan. he mailed it here yesterday and told me to give it to you today."

your fingers curled around the box, taking it with both hands. "thank you... dad," you whispered, testing the word on your tongue.

mr. han's smile widened. "anytime."

the entire morning passed in the record store, the feeling of missing taesan softened—if only for a little while. and by evening, you and ryujin returned home, where your family had set up a small celebration for your birthday.

fhe two of you found yourselves in your bedroom, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the tv, the muffled chatter from the living room fading into the background.

"ew, you're nineteen now," ryujin teased, wrinkling her nose. being a year younger, she never missed a chance to remind you.

you rolled your eyes, tossing a pillow at her. "still far away from thirty," you snorted, laughing as you fidgeted with the box in front of you—the package taesan had sent.

ryujin nudged your arm. "what's that, anyway?"

you shrugged. "guess we'll find out."

carefully, you untied the yarn wrapped around it, peeling back the flaps to reveal its contents. a mixtape, a vhs tape, and a stack of cds from your favorite bands sat neatly inside.

you let out a soft chuckle, shaking your head. "he knows me a little too well."

ryujin leaned in. "damn, he really went all out. let's check what's on the tape."

without hesitation, you crawled to the player beneath the tv, sliding the vhs inside before grabbing the remote. the screen lit up to life, static buzzing before clearing—revealing taesan's face.

a bright smile, soft eyes. he looked straight into the camera, and for a second, it felt like he was right there in the room with you.

"happy birthday, my beloved y/n."

his voice crackled through the old speakers, slightly distorted, yet every syllable carried the sincerity of someone who loved you with every fiber of his being.

he smiled, pausing for a brief second as if searching for the right words.

a trail of silence.

"i love you more than yesterday, and less than tomorrow, my dear darling. always."

he leaned closer to the camera, and then, the screen faded back to static.

you exhaled, with a shaky breath. a lump formed in your throat, but you refused to cry—this wasn't meant to be sad. it was meant to make you feel loved, even from miles away.

ryujin glanced at you, then patted your back. "you okay?"

you nodded, still staring at the screen.

ryujin leaned back against your bed, staring at the ceiling. "damn, taesan really does love you." she grinned, then looked at you. "i'm happy for you, y/n. happy birthday, my guy."

and in that moment, despite the distance, despite the ache in your chest, you felt whole.

you were happy. you really were.

lying on your bed after the long day, you stared at the ceiling, letting the glow of the streetlights outside reflect against your walls. after ryujin left, you stayed up, replaying taesan's message again and again, as if you could carve his voice into your mind, make it something permanent.

the way he smiled. the way he said your name, the way his voice crackled through the old speakers but never lost its warmth.

"i promise it. we'll be together soon."

you pressed your earphones closer, the mixtape he had sent playing, the song he sang for you that night before he left. it felt like he was right there, fingers strumming the chords.

you could already picture it—the week passing by quickly, and then he'd be back. he'd step off that train with the same boyish grin, shaking his head at you for missing him too much, even though he would've missed you just as much. he'd pull you into his arms, teasing you for being dramatic, but still holding on a little tighter, a little longer.

nothing bad could happen.

with that thought warming your chest, you drifted off to sleep with a smile on your lips.

and then, before you knew it, a noise.

the sudden, loud sound of footsteps storming up the stairs. the door swinging open with too much force.

▶• ılıılıılılılıılıılı.

"y/n!"

you stirred, groggy. you've overslept. the afternoon sunlight streaming through your window, instantly blinding you. headphones still in your ears. for a second, you thought it was just ryujin being ryujin—barging in like she always did, shaking you awake for something stupid.

but then you felt it, the weight in the air. something was wrong.

you sat up, fast, the mixtape player tumbling from your hands. your pulse pounded, a sudden chill creeping up your chest as your best friend stood frozen in the doorway.

ryujin was breathless, shoulders rising and falling in quick, uneven pace. her hands trembled at her sides. but what scared you the most was her face—pale, drained of every bit of mischief and joy she always had.

she couldn't look at you.

"ryu...?" your voice barely came out, your own heartbeat drowning it.

she swallowed, her throat bobbing. she opened her mouth, but nothing came out at first. then—

"taesan."

one word. just one. and suddenly, the world wasn't real anymore.

your breath hitched. you felt it before you even knew what it was, a weight pressing down on your chest, curling around your ribs, tightening, squeezing.

your hands clenched the sheets, your mind racing, trying to fill in the blanks. maybe she was overreacting. maybe he just missed his train. maybe his beeper was out of range. maybe—

"taesan, what?" you gasped. barely recognizing your own voice. "what, ryujin?"

she flinched, her lips parting, but she still wouldn't look at you. her fingers dug into the fabric of her jeans.

seconds passed. she finally lifted her gaze, eyes trembling.

and before she even said another word, before she could let the next sentence leave her lips— you already knew.

you can barely remember what happened after ryujin told you. everything blurred together, the world tipping over, voices had muffled, your own heartbeat drowning out everything else.

she had gone to mr. han's store early in the morning, like she always did. but today, instead of the usual quiet hum of records playing inside, she found the store getting closed, with mr. han outside, hands shaking as he fumbled with the keys, his face was pale and stricken with terror.

"taesan... he's caught in an accident."

that was all it took.

the next time you became fully aware of your surroundings, you were already running through the cold, sterile halls of the hospital, barefoot, still in your pajamas. your breath came out in ragged gasps, tears blurring your vision, but you didn't stop. you couldn't.

everything hurt—your legs, your lungs, your head. but none of it compared to the fear clawing at your chest, the paralyzing dread wrapping around your throat like a noose.

left. right. where is he?

your heartbeat pounded in your ears, blocking out the sounds of nurses passing by, the beeping of machines, the low murmur of worried families.

and then you saw him— mr. han.

sitting in the waiting area in front of the emergency room, his face buried in his hands. the moment your eyes landed on him, the final thread holding you together snapped.

"dad..."

the word fell from your lips in a broken whisper as you collapsed onto the chair beside him.

he didn't say anything at first. he just pulled you into his arms, his embrace just as tight, just as desperate as yours.

you both sat there. painfully long hours passed, but time meant nothing.

then, they let you see him.

mr. han went in first. you hesitated at the doorway, unable to move, unable to breathe, scared of what might lie before you.

and then you saw himyour heart audibly shattered.

taesan lay in the hospital bed, his face was pale, his body wrapped in layers of bandages. his left leg was lifted, secured in a cast, wires and tubes connected to him like a lifelines. he looked small, fragile. so unlike the taesan you knew—the one who always stood tall, always carried himself with effortless ease, always made you feel safe.

now, he was unconscious. a deep, unmoving stillness. you couldn't step forward. you couldn't bear to get any closer.

"taesan... he went home earlier than he was supposed to."

mr. han's voice was rough, almost a whisper low.

"but i hope you won't blame yourself for this, y/n. it was his choice... an unfortunate one."

guilt wrapped around you like a claustrophobe. he was here because of you.

he was in pain right now because he loved you.

you pressed a trembling hand over your mouth, trying to stifle the sob trying to break free. but nothing could stop the way your chest caved in, the way your entire body ached with something so heavy.

mr. han reached out, squeezing your shoulder gently.

"at least he's alive. and he'll be okay."

that was all you could hold onto. that was all you could hope for.

▶• ılıılıılılılıılıılı.

the first few days after the accident were unbearable.

you visited the hospital every single day. sat by his bedside, hands folded in your lap, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. you had already memorized the sound of the machines, the way the heart monitor beeped in slow, rhythmic pulses. sometimes, you spoke to him—soft, whispered words that never received an answer.

"hey, taesan... it's me."

"ryujin's been making me eat properly, but you know how she is. she doesn't know how to cook for shit."

"i've been playing the mixtape you gave me. over and over. it's still my favorite thing in the world."

but taesan never responded.

his fingers never twitched. his breathing never changed.

he was there, but he wasn't.

and that was the worst part—watching him sleep, watching him remain so still, and not knowing when he would wake up. if he would wake up.

mr. han tried to stay hopeful. "he's a fighter, y/n. he's strong."

but late at night, when the nurses thought no one was listening, you overheard the hushed conversations between doctors. the uncertainty in their voices. the way they said "if he wakes up" instead of "when."

and it terrified you. some nights, you didn't sleep at all.

you sat by your window, hugging your knees to your chest, playing the last recording taesan ever sent you. his voice the only thing keeping you together— cracked slightly as he sang. you closed your eyes and imagined he was still here, still whole, still the same boy who left with a promise to return.

you whispered to yourself, like a prayer. "please come back to me."

and then—

one morning, the beeper went off.

you almost didn't answer. you had spent the entire night awake again, too afraid to close your eyes, too afraid that when you opened them, something worse would happen.

but then you saw it's from taesan's father.

"y/n, he's awake."

the phone nearly slipped from your fingers.

you didn't even bother grabbing your jacket. you just ran.

your legs felt weak as you reached the hospital doors, but the rush of adrenaline kept you moving. every step felt like you were running towards something unreal, something you had spent weeks desperately hoping for.

you imagined it over and over—

taesan waking up, his tired eyes landing on you, his lips curving into the smallest, weakest smile. "you're here," he would say, and you would laugh through your tears, grabbing his hand, feeling his warmth.

you wanted that moment— you needed that moment.

but when you stepped into his room, when his eyes finally met yours, you expected to be greeted with the same eyes you've seen just a month ago, the same smile you saw in the vhs clip.

but his direct, empty, and confused gaze says otherwise.

"dad, who is she?"

your heart stopped, and the world suddenly spun faster. you had prepared for everything—except this.

except for the possibility that when he woke up, you wouldn't exist to him anymore.

petrified, you couldn't do anything but stare at him, your vision blurring, body turning ice cold.

this wasn't how it was supposed to go.

"taesan, she's..." mr. han hesitated.

but taesan's confused gaze never flinched. he didn't know you, didn't remember you.

every memory, every moment, every smile, every night spent whispering about forever— gone.

you turned abruptly, stumbling out of the room, your hands shaking so violently you could barely push open the door. the walls of the hospital hallway felt like they were closing in, suffocating you, crushing you under the weight of a new reality you never thought you would have to face.

you pressed your back against the nearest wall, gasping for air.

the nausea hit first. then the dizziness. then the overwhelming, unbearable grief.

mr. han followed you out, his face lined with concern, his voice was comforting when he knelt beside you.

"i'm sorry, y/n."

you shook your head, gripping your arms as if holding yourself together.

"no, no, no..." the words came out as broken whispers.

"the doctor said the trauma to his head was too severe," mr. han explained gently. "he's lucky to be alive. his memory... it's in pieces. some things, he remembers. some things, he doesn't."

you barely heard him.

everything else drowned in the roaring noise in your head. it felt like someone had reached inside you and ripped out your heart, leaving a hollow, aching space behind.

"give yourself time," mr. han said. "i'll help you reintroduce yourself to him—"

"no."

it came out sharper than you intended.

mr. han blinked, taken aback.

"no, mr. han. don't." your voice cracked at the end.

you couldn't do this.

you wouldn't do this.

because the taesan you loved—the one who knew your favorite songs, the one who always hugged you from behind when you least expected it, the one who promised to come back to you— that taesan was gone.

and maybe it was selfish. maybe it was weak, but you didn't want to be just another stranger in his life.

mr. han exhaled slowly, his eyes filled with something close to sorrow. but he didn't argue.

"i understand," he murmured. "but i'll be here if you ever change your mind."

except, you didn't. you never did, and that's it.

the guilt still sat in your chest like a sickness that had no cure, a lifetime illness that never fafrd. you spent the next year drowning in it, avoiding everything that reminded you of him—the store, the streets you once walked together. you kept yourself hidden in the comfort of isolation, blaming yourself until the weight of regret became unbearable. the only constant was ryujin, who sat with you through every sleepless night, listening to your sobs, carrying the same sorrow in her own heart.

but you never wanted to see taesan again. not because the love had faded—no, it was because it hadn't. because it still lived inside you, and that love had nearly destroyed him.

and just like that, in the blink of an eye, you were erased from his world.

two years later, after mr. han's passing, you left. you went overseas, studied, worked, and tried to piece yourself back together. you built a life—a good one, stable, structured. you had everything, everything except the warmth you once held in your hands. the kind of love that once made your heart feel alive.

that emptiness stayed with you for the next 16 years.

▶▶ fast forward, to 2010

the air smelled the same. that was the first thing you noticed when you stepped out of the taxi, suitcase in hand, standing in front of the house you called home. it had been a decade and a half since you last walked this street, yet the scent of the trees, the faint saltiness from the nearby river, and the warm, lingering aroma of your mother's cooking still clung to the air.

your mother was the first to rush out, arms wide open, pulling you into a warm hug. the comfort of her touch was the same, but her body felt smaller, frailer. her hair was streaked with more silver than before, and the deep lines on her face told stories of the years she had spent waiting for you to come back.

"you've gotten thinner," she muttered as she held your face, eyes scanning you as if trying to memorize every detail. "are you eating well?"

you let out a small laugh. "i'm fine, mom."

your older sister, now a mother herself, stood behind her, smiling softly. in her arms was yujin, her six-year-old daughter, peeking at you with curious eyes. she looked so much like your sister when she was younger—same round cheeks, same smile.

at lunch, the dining table was livelier than you remembered. your sister talked about her job, your mother shared neighborhood gossip, and yujin, growing more comfortable, proudly told you about a drawing she made in school. you listened, letting their voices fill the hollow that had followed you for years.

then, the conversation shifted.

"are you settling back here for good?" your sister asked.

you nodded while slicing into your food. "yeah, i've earned enough, but i still took a job at a company nearby. i'll be staying here for a while until i find my own place around the city."

your mother and sister exchanged glances but said nothing. you could already tell they wanted you to stay, but they wouldn't push. at thirty-five, you had already built a life away from home—except,

"y/n, dear," your mother spoke after a pause, setting her utensils down. "when are you getting married?"

you froze for just a second, but it was enough.

the room quieted, only present was the sound of yujin humming to herself. you didn't look up, simply pushing the food around on your plate.

your sister cleared her throat, sensing the tension. "mom—"

"i'm just worried," your mother interrupted softly. "you've been alone for so long."

you sighed, putting down your fork. "let's not talk about it."

she lowered her gaze, nodding in understanding. "we just want you to be happy."

happy.

the word sat heavy in your chest. you weren't unhappy, not really. you had built a life, studied, worked, traveled. you had done everything you were supposed to do.

but happiness? that was different.

"i'll figure it out," you said finally, offering a small, reassuring smile.

your mother let it go after that, but the thought stayed in your mind even as the conversation moved on.

and then, as if drawn by an invisible string, your thoughts drifted back.

to the store. to the past you had locked away.

to taesan.

▶• ılıılıılılılıılıılı.

after lunch, you found yourself holding on the car keys. the decision to drive to the store mr. han used to own wasn't made on impulse—it had been in the back of your mind since you arrived in town. you told yourself it was curiosity. you just wanted to see if it was still there, if time had been kind to it, if someone else had taken over.

it wasn't about him.

at least, that's what you convinced yourself as you pulled out of the driveway.

the thought of taesan crossed your mind like a wind. once, the idea of seeing him again would have sent your heart into a spiral, would have made you rehearse scenarios in your head. but now? it didn't thrill you anymore. it had been sixteen years. whatever was left of those feelings had dulled with time, worn down like an old photograph left in the sun too long.

or so you thought.

as you pulled up to the familiar street, your eyes brightened. the store was still there.

a small, involuntary smile formed on your lips. it looked the same, almost eerily so—like it had been preserved in amber, untouched by the years that had changed everything else. the sign still hung above the door, its paint slightly faded but still legible. the same large glass windows framed the front, revealing shelves lined with records, just as they had always been. not a single thing seemed altered.

it was as if time had stood still here.

and for a moment, you let yourself believe it had.

your grip on the steering wheel loosened as memories flooded in—memories of you and ryujin, laughing as you ran up the sidewalk, her voice echoing in your ears. you could almost see it, the shadows of your younger selves running past, breathless from excitement, pushing open the door with a little too much force. mr. han would already be at the counter, a cup of coffee in his hands, shaking his head with a grin.

the memory felt so vivid, so real, that you had to blink yourself back into the present.

through the window, you peered inside, searching for a figure behind the counter. but no one was there. the space looked empty.

you hesitated. then, exhaling softly, you stepped out of the car.

the afternoon air was slightly cold, carrying the slight scent of autumn leaves from the ground. your steps were slow, as you walked toward the entrance. the familiar wooden panels creaked beneath your weight as you reached for the door handle.

the store smelled the same—dusty vinyl, aged paper. it wrapped around you like the old times.

your gaze instinctively drifted toward the counter. it was empty.

your fingers hovered over the small bell placed neatly beside the register. for a second, you debated leaving. maybe this had been a mistake. maybe digging through old places would only unearth things better left buried.

but then, before you could retreat, you tapped the bell.

a few seconds passed. and then, footsteps.

a door creaked open at the back of the shop— a man stepped out, taller, and hair slightly longer.

everything went in slow-motion.

you had thought you were past this. you had convinced yourself that all those feelings, all those stupid heartbeats, had faded with time.

but the moment you saw the man walk through that door— looking different, but still painfully the same, everything came crashing back.

taesan.

your fingers curled instinctively, gripping the hem of your sleeve.

he looked more matured. his hair was neatly styled, and there were faint lines around his eyes. but his presence—his quiet, effortless presence was the same.

and he was smiling, but not in the way he used to.

this wasn't the smile that had once made you feel like the world had paused just for the two of you. this wasn't the same expression he had worn that day when he first saw you holding mtv unplugged, standing right behind where you were now.

no, this smile was polite. distant. the kind of smile you give to strangers.

"hello, ma'am. can i help you?"

his voice was calm, and professional.

you tried not to look, not to search for any remnants of the boy you once loved in his still-starry eyes. but in doing so, your own eyes began to glisten with the weight of sixteen years that had passed too quickly, and yet, not quickly enough.

before he could ask if you were okay, the bell chimed again.

a voice called out—

"hi, honey!"

and there it was. the smile. the one you had been searching for.

but it wasn't for you.

your gaze shifted toward the woman who had just walked in.

she had short hair. a soft yellow dress flowed around her frame. her presence was gentle, warm, as she stepped closer in a way that made something in you sink.

taesan's face softened. his entire posture changed.

"how's eunyoung?" he asked, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

"your daughter's been really naughty. good thing her sister's a responsible one," the woman chuckled.

daughter.

your ears rang.

you turned away before you could hear more. before you could process what it meant. before the tight wrap of reality could fully drag you down.

your steps carried you—perhaps instinctively, to the back of the store, where the old shelves stood. the same ones where you and taesan had once stood, side by side, two teenagers who thought the world only revolved around music and endless possibilities.

your fingers skimmed the edges of the records. some were familiar, old classics that had stood the test of time. others were newer, fresh additions to replace old ones.

and then— your hand stilled.

a single vinyl, untouched, tucked carefully between the others.

mtv unplugged.

a whisper of a memory stirred.

"mtv unplugged."

the voice echoed behind you.

you turned, and suddenly, you weren't standing in a record store in 2010—you were eighteen again.

"that's been a personal favorite," taesan said, his voice lighter now. "i don't know why no one buys it."

your lips parted, but no words came.

he glanced at you, but not like before, not with the warmth of love. just as a store owner speaking to a customer.

"gonna buy it?"

"no," you murmured, gripping the record a little tighter. "i'll just rent it."

taesan nodded, unfazed. "great. i'll be at the counter if you need recommendations."

and just like that, he walked away. without a second look. not realizing who you were.

without realizing what this place—what he, had meant to you.

but that didn't matter. you had no intention of crashing back into his life. he was happy.

and for you, that had to be enough.

▐▐ resume, to 2024

your eyes flutter open.

for the first time in three decades, the weight in your chest isn't unbearable anymore. it lingers— like a memory that no longer claws at your chest but merely exists somewhere distant. you exhale, grounding yourself back to the present.

turning back to the shelf, you run your fingers along the spines of the vinyls, their covers weathered by time. you pause, pulling out nevermind, feeling the rough texture under your fingertips. then, without hesitation, you stacked the vinyl along with the mtv unplugged in your arms.

the bell above the door chimes again.

you sense taesan's presence before he even speaks, his footsteps light as he steps beside you.

"nevermind too?" he said, amusement in his tone.

you let out a soft chuckle. "yeah, someone once told me i should go with nevermind first."

he hums in approval, the corners of his lips tugging into an easy smile. "sounds like a wise man advice."

you both laugh—softly, naturally.

the moment feels strangely effortless, as if the years between now and then have thinned into something preserved.

then, without warning, taesan reaches for a different shelf, pulling out a cd from a tucked-away spot. you glance at it—reality by richard sanderson.

"here," he says, offering it to you. "recommendation. i listened to this out of pure boredom once, and for some reason, i was drawn to it. it felt like—" he pauses.

you turn to him, waiting.

"...home?" he finishes.

you smile, nodding, taking the cd from his hands. "yeah. some songs do that to you."

a comfortable silence passed between you as you stare down at the album in your hands. then, almost without thinking, you speak.

"do you ever feel like you've lost something important, but you don't know what?"

taesan tilts his head slightly, his gaze drifting toward the ceiling in thought. he exhales through his nose, contemplative.

"sometimes," he admits. "i get these dreams, and... weird feelings whenever i sense something familiar. maybe old things i should remember."

you nod at his response, lips pressing into a flat line. there's no sadness in his voice, only curiosity—like someone who has long accepted that some pieces of his past are just that: lost, but not necessarily missed.

that freed you.

"well," you say, lifting the cd slightly. "maybe you loved this song in another life."

a small smirk forms on his lips. "maybe."

you adjust the stack in your arms. "alright, i'll take all these. buying them, finally."

taesan follows behind you as you walk to the counter. the transaction is simple—just another routine exchange. but as you take the bag from his hands and turn to leave, his voice stops you.

"you've been visiting here since 2010, if i remember correctly," he says. "but i don't think i ever got your name."

you hesitate. then, with a steady stance, you turn back to him.

"jang y/n."

for a fleeting moment, you swear you see something—a flicker of recognition, a spark of something buried deep in his eyes. but just as quickly as it appears, it's gone, replaced by his usual easygoing expression.

taesan nods, polite, casual. "okay. please take care on the road, ma'am jang. i'll remember you."

you nod back, stepping out of the store for the final time.

▶ ılıılıılılılıılıılı.

tonight— an hour before your birthday ends, the air feels lighter than it has in years.

settling into your bed, you turn on the old vhs player, the usual static rustling before the screen flickers on.

there he is, again. smiling through the grainy footage, his voice carrying through the years like a remnant of your youth.

"today is your day, and i need you to promise me something—smile, even if i'm not there. celebrate, even if it's just for yourself. because you deserve every bit of happiness this world has to offer."

for the first time, your chest doesn't tighten. your eyes don't glisten with unshed tears.

maybe, after all these years, this wasn't a promise left unfulfilled. maybe this message was never meant to be a placeholder for something that never came.

maybe it was closure all along.

maybe, the answer taesan gave you at the store earlier was the final piece of it—the confirmation that you were never completely erased from his world. buried, perhaps. forgotten in some ways. but never truly gone.

we all exist in someone's life, even if only in echoes. and maybe that truth—that you were once there, that you once mattered, is enough.

you glance back at the screen one last time.

taesan—your taesan is still there, frozen in time, forever twenty, forever smiling. wishing you happiness.

you reach for the remote, pressing the stop button.

the screen fades to black.

ejecting the tape carefully, putting it back in its place, you finally lay him—and the past—to rest.

■ fin.

#bnd x reader #bnd #taesan bnd #han taesan #taesan x reader #taesan #taesan boynextdoor #han dongmin #fanfic #au #boynextdoor #romance #taesan fanfic #han taesan x reader #90s au #90s #taesan angst

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kinkyniragi · 1 day ago

Text

Until the debt is paid – Chapter 3: Crave

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader Genre: Smut 18+ Word count: 1,5k Summary: As payment for your father’s debt, you’ve been handed over to Thomas Shelby—a ruthless criminal with a reputation as dangerous as his smirk. Tommy puts pressure on you with increasing hunger. You suddenly wake up at night and feel that something is wrong… CN: Power play, slight choking, dubious consent Author’s note: After writing a lot of smut for Niragi from Alice in Borderland, I’m now diving into the world of Cillian Murphy. Feel free to leave comments and share my story if you enjoy it—I truly appreciate every bit of motivation to keep writing. Also, I’m not a native speaker, so if you spot any creative grammar choices… let’s just call them artistic liberties, shall we?

***

<<Chapter 2

After Tommy has left the barn, you barely dare to breathe. What is he planning? Will he come back?

Your throat is so dry you almost cough. With trembling fingers, you grab the glass jug and drink greedily—until you force yourself to stop halfway. Who knows when you’ll get more? The cool water fills your stomach, but it can’t mask the gnawing hunger.

Outside, you hear a match striking against a box.

No doubt, Tommy is still there. Casually smoking.

That bastard. He knows you’re starving—

The bread. The one his lackey dropped.

Could you somehow reach it?

You glance around. Of course, Tommy has ensured that nothing useful—or dangerous—is within reach. But there, half-buried in straw, lies a torn halter. He must have overlooked it. Or thought it useless. Maybe you could reach it with your feet.

But Tommy is still outside.

Is he waiting? For you to call him? To beg him for a few hard breadcrumbs?

If you could use the halter as a lasso, you might be able to drag the small chunk of bread toward you. A miserable scrap. But better than begging Tommy on your knees—risking awakening something far worse in him.

But just as you move, you stop.

The metal rings on the halter—he’d hear them the second they clinked against the floor. He’d be in the stable before you even had a chance to eat.

No. You have to wait.

***

Dusk is setting in. Cold seeps from the ground into your bones. Your nightgown is long but thin. Another sleepless night awaits. Hunger and exhaustion begin to numb your senses, dulling even the ever-present fear. If Tommy left, he did so quietly.

Slowly, you drift off into vivid dreams of the subsequent encounters you had with Tommy, after you started working in that bar and he bluntly asked you if you were a whore.

***

He was a regular at the establishment and you had orders that all his drinks were on the house. You remember the first time you felt his gaze on you. It was the way he’d watched you from across the room, calm, predatory. Like a lion studying its prey from a distance, biding its time. You had been wiping down a glass, keeping your head low, trying to stay unnoticed. But Tommy, Tommy didn’t miss a thing.

He had sauntered up to the bar, all confidence and quiet power, his eyes sharp with calculation. "Pour me a drink," he’d said, leaning in a little too close, just enough for you to feel the heat of his presence.

You’d done as he asked, first because it was an order—but also because some twisted part of you ignored the fact that this man was a walking red flag. And maybe, just maybe, you’d been a little too polite, a little too willing—enough to make him think you were inviting him in.

As you handed him the drink, his fingers brushed yours. For a moment, you could almost taste the electricity between you, but you refused to let it affect you.

“First time working as a bartender, eh?” he asked, voice smooth like velvet but with an edge that made your spine stiffen.

You nodded, glancing up at him briefly.

He smiled, though it barely passed as friendly. “You know, it’s dangerous, a woman like you working in a place like this.”

The words hung heavy in the air, and despite your best efforts, you could feel your heart race. But you didn’t show it.

“Why?” you’d asked, your voice cool despite the undercurrent of tension.

“You might just be too tempting for the wrong people,” he replied, taking a long sip of his drink. His gaze lingered on you, assessing, as if weighing a thought before speaking it aloud. Then, almost bored, he added, “Or maybe you purposely are dressing up as prey and act all surprised when the wolves start circling.”

You’d swallowed hard. His words had felt like a warning. A deliberate one.

There was something about the way he said that, something possessive and calculating. You wanted to push back, but there was that glimmer in his eyes that made you hesitate. He wasn’t just a man at the bar; he was a force to be reckoned with, and you had just stepped into his territory.

***

It must be the dead of night when you jolt awake. The cold bites into your skin.

Something is wrong.

You don’t even dare to open your eyes.

You hold your breath.

Listen.

Nothing but the creaking beams in the wind. Somewhere in the distance, geese murmur softly.

And yet… the feeling lingers.

Something is here.

Someone.

The sharp scent of Tommy’s aftershave reaches your nose.

Shit—

Then suddenly—

A gentle tug at your hair.

A warm breath against your ear.

You don’t dare to move.

Your body remains still, frozen in either terror or calculation.

He can’t know you’ve noticed him.

“Mmmh… such a good girl, sleeping so soundly?” he murmurs, his tone dripping with a twisted kind of pleasure.

You don’t react.

His fingers trace your cheek. Then, a rustling behind you—Tommy settles in the straw, pressing his body against yours. His lips ghost over your ear, trailing down your neck. His arm coils around your waist like a constrictor, slowly tightening.

“I could do anything to you, and you wouldn’t make a sound, eh?” he taunts.

His hand slips beneath your nightgown, a slow, deliberate movement that sends an unbearable tingling through your core. His touch is full of desire, almost possessive, but there’s a distinct challenge in it, as if he’s pushing your boundaries, trying to provoke a reaction—forcing you to show him you’re not as passive as you pretend to be. You know he’s not just after pleasure; he’s after control, seeing how far he can push before you break, how much he can tease you out of your silence.

It isn’t just the pleasure he’s seeking, you think, it’s the thrill of the hunt. He wants you to fight back, to resist—because the challenge is what excites him. It’s never enough to just take; he needs to feel that rush of overpowering you, of breaking you down piece by piece. His satisfaction lies in conquering, in seeing how far he can go before you finally surrender, whether physically or emotionally. If there’s even a hint of truth in these thoughts, this isn’t going to stop here.

"He chuckles. "Your breathing betrays you, you know that?"

You open your eyes.

What a stupid girl you have been to think you could fool him.

In the flickering glow of an oil lamp that he must have brought with him, his face hovers close. The warm, wavering light almost disguises the bitter cold of the night.

"Tommy—"

A low laugh. “What’s wrong? Did I wake you?”

You try to pull away.

He tightens his grip around your waist. His other hand slides up—to your throat.

No.

Fingertips ghost over your skin.

First gentle. Then with pressure.

"Hmm," he murmurs, voice like a blade. "Your heart is racing. I wonder why?"

You don’t answer.

You can’t.

You know better than testing him.

You withhold the answer from him while trying to stay calm—lest his sadistic instincts take over and he strangles you just for the fun of it.

Tommy watches you for a moment—amused, curious, with that faint smirk you despise and yet can’t seem to look away from. His fingers linger at your throat, pressing just enough to remind you of who’s in control.

"Good girl," he murmurs when you remain still. His thumb brushes over your pulse, exploring the delicate skin as his grip slowly loosens. But instead of letting you go, he lowers his head until his lips graze your neck—a fleeting, almost tender kiss, so at odds with the cold dominance in his hands.

"I could fucking tear you apart… if I wanted to." His voice is barely audible, yet every syllable seeps into your mind like poison. He slides your nightgown higher. "I wonder… would you beg me to stop, or to keep going?"

A tremor moves through you before you can stop it, giving you away. Because the truth is—you don’t know. The thought alone sends a deep, unsettling heat coursing through you. Would you fight him? Would you surrender? Or worse… would you even want to, exactly as he wants to make you believe?

A low chuckle ghosts over your skin, as if he can hear the war raging inside your head. And maybe, just maybe—he already knows the answer.

And then, just as suddenly as he came, he pulls away, as if he’s already lost interest.

"Sleep tight, love."

You hear the crunch of straw beneath his boots as he rises. He walks away slowly, deliberately, savoring the power he holds over you. But you know one thing for certain—

Tommy Shelby always comes back.

New to the Cillian party so just let me know if you wanna be tagged to my next stories! @prettycay23 @fourleafcloves-blog @mlioravanfleet @sunbeamseas @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @death-of-the-golden-days @amanda08319 @elysiannook @borntodiemp3 @cillshot @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @juleshadalittlelamb @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @milkpwuff @1-fuzzy-squirrels @iambored24601 @mcookie @letixslvdr @untitleddd74 @iwantadilfplease @leomiloo @nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @matilda-jone @bonahona @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @hunnibearrr @lunyyx @nadloves @lost-fantasy @mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @cherrycilly @victoriak01 @leviackermannsupremacy

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