#modern magic!AU | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

seongwars · 2 months ago

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forget me not | iv

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x witch!Reader AU: non-idol | supernatural Summary: Yunho should be happy--he's got everything going for him and he's set to marry the love of his life! So why is he standing outside of your shop on the night of his engagement party? Word Count: 7.5K (my bad) Warnings: infidelity, use of the k word

Fic Masterlist

a/n: my stitches reopened and I had to go back and get restitched 😬 so I spent all day in bed editing this chapter. i love reading everyone's theories and feedback is always welcome!

The first time Haewon saw Yunho, it was at your dorm during a study session. You were both surrounded by books, notes, and various pieces of stationary scattered across the floor. While you were focusing on writing out your note cards, Haewon was dancing around the room in an attempt to “activate her brain cells”.

She had been caught up in her own world until the sound of a knock interrupted her antics. You stood up to answer the door, and a low voice followed, mingled with a chuckle—deep, familiar, and warm.

Yunho.

He was your best friend, someone she’d heard about but hadn’t paid much attention to. But that day, something was different. He sat with a pile of books and a look of quiet concentration that intrigued her. His presence was magnetic, though subtle, and without realizing it, Haewon found herself sneaking glances at him, captivated by the calm determination in his demeanor.

She wasn’t sure when it happened exactly, but at some point, between stolen glances and shared laughter over late-night group study sessions, she started to fall for him. Yunho was kind, always the first to offer a helping hand, and his dedication to his friends and family was unwavering. He had a way of making everyone feel valued and heard.

And when he asked her to be his girlfriend, she was over the moon.

"Did you know Yunho was going to ask me out?" she beamed, her voice laced with an excitement that made your heart sink.

You froze for a second, your pencil hovering above the page. There was a flicker of something—disappointment, maybe even hurt—but you quickly swallowed it down.

"Maybe," you muttered, your voice light, almost teasing, though it took everything in you to keep it that way. Haewon didn’t see the way your grip tightened on the pencil, or how your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes.

"I can’t believe it," she gushed, oblivious to the turmoil behind your composed expression. "I mean, I’ve liked him for a while now, and I wasn’t sure if he felt the same way, but when he asked me…God, it was perfect."

"That’s great, Haewon" you said, your voice quieter than before, trying desperately to sound convincing.

You fell in love with the way Yunho truly saw you, even when you tried to hide parts of yourself. He understood you in ways no one else ever had, knowing your fears, your dreams, and all the things that made you tick. Somewhere along the line, you stopped worrying about what he would think of you because with Yunho, you never had to pretend.

That’s when you knew you loved him—because the idea of life without him didn’t feel like life at all.

But how could you tell him? You weren’t like Haewon—bold and unafraid, able to voice her feelings as if vulnerability wasn’t terrifying. She was all confidence and ease, speaking her mind without a second thought, while you were cautious, overthinking, content to blend into the background.

Telling Yunho how you felt would mean stepping into the unknown. You couldn’t bear the thought of losing him if things went wrong. So you stayed silent, burying your feelings deep, hoping that somehow, you could protect what you had by keeping your secret.

But things went wrong anyway.

You tried not to not let their relationship affect you, told yourself you were happy for them. Haewon and Yunho were two of the most important people in your life, and they deserved happiness. You repeated that to yourself like a mantra, hoping that if you said it enough, you might actually believe it.

It hurt seeing them together, knowing that while you were happy for them, you couldn’t help the ache in your chest every time Yunho laughed a little too easily at something she said, or when she rested her head on his shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The worst part was that you couldn’t even be angry. How could you? Haewon hadn’t done anything wrong; she hadn’t stolen Yunho from you, and Yunho hadn’t abandoned you. It was like watching sand slip through your fingers—nothing to hold on to, nothing you could do to stop it.

Yunho was happy, and you cared about him enough to want that for him, even if it wasn’t with you.

After you disappeared, everything fell apart in ways neither of them expected. Yunho and Haewon participated in search parties, posted on social media about your disappearance, and cooperated with law enforcement. But there were no answers, no trace of where you’d gone or why. The emptiness you left behind was palpable, a gaping hole in both their lives.

At first, Haewon believed they were grieving together. She felt the weight of your absence in every corner of her life, and Yunho, in his quiet way, did too. But then, she began to notice the way their relationship shifted.

It was subtle at first: a slight distance in Yunho’s eyes, the way he seemed preoccupied even when they were alone. He would zone out in the middle of conversations, and even when he held Haewon in his arms, his heart wasn’t fully there.

Slowly, painfully, she realized the truth. Yunho wasn’t just mourning you—he was waiting for you. He was still tethered to you, pulled by an invisible force that Haewon couldn’t compete with.

She never considered herself a mean girl. Sure, she had grown up in a comfortable world, surrounded by friends who were a little more tightly wounded and concerned with appearances. But now, standing on the other side of it, Haewon could see the truth for what it was. Yunho was never really hers to begin with. She hadn’t stolen him—not intentionally—but she had taken something that was never really hers to claim.

Then there was Sungjae.

Sungjae had never been a close friend, not really. He was more of a background figure—someone on the outskirts of Haewon’s social circle who, little by little, had weaseled his way in. He was everything Yunho wasn’t: impulsive, flirtatious, unpredictable. And it was those very qualities that ignited something in her.

The affair began quietly, like a secret Haewon wasn’t ready to admit even to herself. It started innocently enough—casual conversations, coffee outings after shared classes. They’d stay up late in the library, long after everyone else had left, talking about things that felt too personal, too vulnerable to share with anyone else. Haewon convinced herself it was nothing more than a close friendship—after all, she had a large circle of friends. What harm could one more friend do?

As time passed, the line between friendship and something more blurred. In the quiet moments following your disappearance, Haewon found herself relying on Sungjae in ways she hadn’t with Yunho in years. He became her anchor when the world felt uncertain, someone who made her feel alive and seen.

At first, it was easy to justify: she and Yunho had been drifting apart. Haewon had noticed it in the way their conversations had become shorter, less meaningful; the way they sat together in silence more often than not, the air between them filled with unspoken tension.

But there was also something darker about Sungjae—something tied to the past Haewon desperately tried to forget. The night you disappeared, Sungjae had humiliated you, his cruel words cutting through the air as everyone watched in uncomfortable silence. And Haewon had stood by, doing nothing. She had stayed silent, too afraid to confront him, too indifferent to speak up.

Yunho had done nothing, either. His usual kind, gentle demeanor had turned into passive inaction, making excuses whenever Haewon brought up the topic like "It's just a phase" or "They’ll work it out."

“Do you think Sungjae had something to do with Y/N’s disappearance?” Haewon suddenly blurted out as the two were cooking dinner.

Yunho froze, his jaw tightening. He knew the answer—he had always known. The last time anyone had seen you was when you stormed out of the apartment, cheeks flushed with shame and frustration. And yet, Yunho couldn’t admit it out loud. Admitting that Sungjae was responsible meant confronting his own failure, his own role in pushing you away.

“If he did,” Yunho said, his voice low, a dangerous edge creeping in, “I’ll kill him myself.”

“But you were the last one who saw her.”

His entire body tensed, the weight of Haewon’s accusation hitting him harder than he expected. He turned to face her fully, eyes dark and cold.

“You think I had something to do with Y/N’s disappearance?” His voice was low, hurt and anger threading through each word. He could feel the bile rising in his chest, burning with the injustice of her suspicion.

“That’s not what I said—”

“But it’s what you meant.” Yunho cut her off. “You think I’m the reason she’s gone?”

“I’m just trying to figure out what happened,” she murmured, her voice softer now, though the accusation still lingered between them.

“All I did was walk her out, and the CCTV proved that! You have no idea how much Y/N’s disappearance is affecting me! But to even suggest that I could’ve done something…” His voice trailed off, swallowed by a surge of emotion.

“I can’t do this,” Yunho muttered, his voice barely audible now as he turned away from her. Grabbing his jacket off the chair, he headed for the door, his movements tense and deliberate. “I’m done with this conversation.”

His footsteps faltered just before reaching the door, the frustration inside him boiling over. He spun back to face Haewon, his voice sharp and biting.

“Every time it comes to Sungjae, you choose him. Why?”

“I–” Haewon’s voice cracked, but Yunho didn’t stop. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving a deafening silence in his wake.

Haewon knew it wasn’t fair to keep dragging him along when her heart was no longer fully his. But the thought of actually leaving—the finality of it—terrified her. The knowledge that once she walked away, there would be no going back was something she wasn’t sure she could handle.

And then Yunho proposed.

It caught her completely off guard—a moment she hadn’t prepared for despite all her doubts and uncertainty. She hadn’t expected him to propose, not now. But instead of facing the truth, instead of admitting that her heart had drifted away and she was entangled in an affair with someone else, Haewon did the only thing she could think of: she convinced herself that accepting Yunho’s proposal would fix everything.

Haewon felt trapped. She felt the walls closing in, suffocating her as she tried to play the part of the happy fiancée. On the night of the engagement party, everyone around them was celebrating, toasting to their future, but all she could think about was how wrong it all felt. Her heart wasn’t in it—not fully—and she knew it.

The alcohol didn’t help. Glass after glass, Haewon drank to drown out the noise in her head, to silence the guilt and doubt. She wanted to forget, to numb herself to everything, but instead, it only made her feel more exposed.

She avoided Yunho most of the night, choosing instead to party with her friends, laughing too loudly, her smile brittle around the edges. Yunho tried to get her to slow down, to pull her back to him, to hold her close, but every time he did, it felt like the air was being sucked out of her lungs. It wasn’t his fault, but being near him only made the weight of her choices heavier.

Finally, something inside her snapped. Right there, in front of everyone. The frustration, the guilt, the suffocating pressure of pretending—it all came to the surface. She knew it was unfair, that Yunho didn’t deserve it, but she couldn’t stop the words from spilling out.

Now, as she laid in bed next to Sungjae, the weight of her betrayal closed in on her. The wedding was fast approaching, a date circled on the calendar like a death sentence, and there was no backing out now. The dress had been chosen, the invitations sent. Everyone was expecting a celebration, but all Haewon could feel was dread.

Yunho had betrayed you too, hadn’t he? He had stood on the sidelines, just as complicit, watching as Sungjae’s cruelty unraveled you. And yet, he had stayed—stayed with her, proposed to her, tried to build a future with her. It was laughable.

The two of them, pretending like they could escape what they’d done, like they could forge something real out of ashes. But the truth had always been there, lurking beneath the surface.

They were no better than the man lying next to her now.

Perhaps this was what she and Yunho both deserved—two people who had betrayed you, condemned to a life of misery together.

Life in the Emporium was nothing short of magical surprises.

Each day began with a quiet ritual, a moment of calm before the shop's unique energy fully awoke. The first thing you’d do each morning was reach for the incense—carefully selected for its cleansing properties—and light it. As the fragrant smoke curled into the air, it seemed to reset the entire space, gently sweeping away the lingering energies left behind by the previous day’s visitors.

Above, the flowers in the hanging garden stirred with the first touch of morning light, their vibrant petals responding as if in greeting. You watered them with a flick of the wrist, though it felt more like a gesture of care than necessity—they thrived on the shop's magic more than on water.

The shop had its own rhythm, a delicate balance between the mundane and the mystical. Travelers, clients, and even the occasional spirit wandered in, drawn by the promise of wishes granted—some simple, others far more complicated. You had seen all kinds: the weary traveler who just wanted safe passage home, the desperate lover seeking a second chance, or the ambitious merchant hoping to change their fortune.

But nothing in the emporium was granted without a cost, and the price wasn’t paid in gold or silver. Every transaction required something far more precious—a wish. Not the kind made on a whim, but a deeply held desire, pulled from the very core of one’s soul.

You would watch as they approached the counter, hands trembling ever so slightly as they revealed their request. Their eyes flickered with doubt as the weight of the exchange settled upon them. Standing before you, they were caught between what they needed and what they were about to give up, realizing that their wish, once surrendered, would be gone forever.

You always asked if they were certain. If they understood the nature of their sacrifice. But the emporium never rejected a payment once it was offered.

You had become accustomed to the shop’s quirks, trusting its ancient magic to maintain a balance that you could only partly comprehend. It was more than a shop; it was a living entity, guiding not only the customers but you, its keeper, shaping the course of both your lives in subtle, unseen ways.

Everything functioned smoothly, like clockwork—until the day Yunho arrived.

From the moment Yunho stepped into the emporium, his presence unsettled you. There was a calm assurance in the way he carried himself, grounding everything around you. Despite never having met him before, something inside you insisted Yunho wasn’t a stranger.

You recalled the strange memories that had flooded your senses—the wind whipping around you as you sat in a car with Yunho, the sun illuminating the way the corner of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. It felt so real, as if you’d lived that moment before, but then it dissolved into something deeper, something raw.

The emotions had gripped you before you could react, dragging you under like a riptide. Your knees buckled, and the world tilted, leaving you gasping for air. Yunho was there, of course. Even through the thick haze of your feelings, he kept you steady, his arms the only thing keeping you from crumbling completely.

Even now, the echoes of that moment lingered in your body. You could still feel the weight of the emotions that had passed through you, as if the magic had left an imprint on your soul.

“Fate has already tied their threads together.”

Your mind raced, trying to grasp Hongjoong and Wooyoung’s conversation.

What did that mean? What threads? Could the connection you felt—this strange, undeniable pull—be part of some cosmic plan, one that had existed long before you even stepped foot in the emporium?

But how could you accept something so profound when you couldn’t even remember him? The thought haunted you, and yet, deep down, the pull toward Yunho only grew stronger, as if Fate itself refused to let you walk away.

You sighed, taking a long drag from your pipe, leaning back as you watched a few late summer blooms drift down from the skylight’s hanging garden. Their petals fluttered like tiny omens in the gentle breeze. Fall had arrived, and with the change in seasons, the line between the living and the departed would thin, bringing even more travelers and clients from different realms.

The bell above the door jingled faintly, drawing your attention. You glanced over, catching the sleek, shadowy form slipping through the crack in the door—a flash of fur before it darted out into the evening. You immediately knew who it was.

“Wooyoung,” you called out. The cat froze mid-step, his tail twitching with surprise. Slowly, he turned his head, his onyx eyes gleaming mischievously in the dim light.

“Don’t even try it,” you added, placing your hands on your hips. He blinked at you, feigning innocence, but you weren’t about to let him slink away without answers this time.

The cat stretched lazily, as if he hadn’t just been caught trying to sneak out, then padded toward you with that familiar, too-casual saunter. By the time he reached you, he shifted back into his human form with a dramatic sigh, ruffling his messy hair as if you’d truly inconvenienced him.

“I was just stepping out,” Wooyoung said, giving you that infuriating smirk of his. “Needed some air. It’s stuffy in here with all this—" He waved his hand around vaguely, “—magic.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of it. “You are magic, Wooyoung.” Your tone was teasing, playful. “Haven’t you had enough of the outside world and tormenting humans for one lifetime?”

“I’m a cat. Gotta see what the world’s up to,” he shrugged.

There was a beat of silence, and you took a breath before speaking. “I heard your conversation with Hongjoong last night.”

Wooyoung froze for the briefest moment, his eyes widening just slightly before he masked it with another lazy grin. The shift in his demeanor was quick, but you’d known him long enough to recognize the flicker of panic he tried to bury.

"It’s not polite to eavesdrop," he teased, his voice light but edged with a subtle wariness.

You weren’t about to let him wiggle his way out of this one. You had seen the way he was squirming, avoiding the real issue, and this time you needed answers.

"What does fate have to do with me and Yunho?"

His smile faltered, a crack in his usual carefree facade. Wooyoung shifted uneasily, searching for the right words to soften the blow, but knowing there was no easy way out. He could feel your frustration mounting, the tension stretching unbearably thin.

"It’s... well, it’s like this," His voice lowered, and for once, he sounded serious. "Hongjoong thinks you and Yunho are bound together in ways that we don’t fully understand. It’s something that’s deeper and older…something that humans refer to as soulmates."

Soulmates.

It sounded ridiculous, unbelievable. You and Yunho, tied together by fate? He was just a traveler, someone the shop had revealed itself to. There was nothing special about him.

"How?" you scoffed, shaking your head as if the mere action would dispel the ridiculous notion. "He’s a stranger, Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung shook his head, his eyes never leaving yours. He shifted uncomfortably, looking anywhere but at you.

"Well… the thing is you have met him before.” But the thing is... you don’t remember. Because you can’t, Wooyoung wanted to say.

"What are you talking about? Then why can’t I remember him? What did I forget?"

Your chest tightened. The frustration, the confusion, the pull you’d felt around Yunho ever since he first entered the shop—it all started to transform into something deeper, something more unsettling. It was as if a fog was lifting, revealing shadows of memories you couldn’t quite grasp.

He let out a long breath, rubbing his face. "It’s complicated. There are things...about you, that you don’t remember. That you chose not to remember."

Your mind raced. Memories? With Yunho? The man you barely knew, who had walked into your life like any other traveler? It didn’t make sense. None of this did.

"If I erased him from my life, then maybe I had a reason," you snapped, the words tasting bitter. Wooyoung winced but didn’t argue.

"Fate doesn’t just disappear because you forget. He’s still tied to you, even if you can’t feel it." He paused, his eyes searching your face, hoping for some sign of understanding. "Maybe it’s why the shop revealed itself to him. It’s fate, pulling you back together."

You could feel the ground slipping from beneath you, your grip on reality loosening with every word he spoke. What Wooyoung was suggesting—soulmates, forgotten love, fate—it sounded like something out of a dream, a fantasy too far removed from the life you knew.

"Why does it matter if I’m connected to him or not?" you continued, your throat tightening as the question lodged itself there, too painful to speak.

The air grew heavy, thick with tension, as if the walls themselves were reacting to the storm brewing inside you. The shelves rattled, and the shop’s energy pulsed erratically, reflecting the confusion and fear you could no longer keep at bay. The lanterns flickered wildly, casting frantic shadows that danced along the walls, twisting in the growing unease.

You tried to steady your breathing, to calm the chaos within, but your mind raced with unanswered questions, with the gnawing suspicion that Wooyoung was right, and it terrified you.

Wooyoung’s face fell, the spark of his usual wit dimming into something darker, something almost sorrowful. He shifted uncomfortably again, as though he wished to be anywhere but here, at this moment.

"Because no one wants to see you hurting, Y/N,” His voice was barely above a whisper, thick with regret. "You were in so much pain that you thought forgetting him and becoming the keeper would make it stop."

That name again. Y/N. It echoed in your mind, a foreign weight on your chest. It felt like a name you should know, but it slipped through your grasp. A name tied to a life you no longer remembered.

"That toy," he continued, "it triggered something, didn’t it? The memories—the emotions—they were too strong. And when you felt that, your magic went unstable. The shop could barely handle it."

You shuddered, the memory of that moment still fresh, still raw. But one question clawed at you, louder than the chaos you’d unleashed.

What had been so unbearable that the only answer was to forget?

“Why is it so cold?” you groaned, bouncing on your toes and rubbing your hands together, trying to get the blood flowing.

The train station was always drafty, but today it felt like the cold had settled into your bones, refusing to leave. You shivered and glanced around, surprised to see no snow on the ground. It was odd—this time of year usually meant blankets of white everywhere, the world covered in a quiet stillness. Yet now, all you had was the biting wind and a gray sky threatening snow that never seemed to come.

Yunho stood beside you, his breath puffing out in small clouds as he huddled deeper into his coat. He laughed softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked at you.

“You’re always cold,” he teased, nudging your arm with his elbow. “Should’ve worn more layers.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re practically a furnace,” you grumbled.

The two of you had decided to take the train home for the holidays after your first semester of university. You were both exhausted—finals had drained whatever energy you had left—but there was excitement in the air as Christmas approached.

“I’m surprised there’s no snow,” you mused, gazing up at the dull, overcast sky. The clouds hung low, thick and heavy, but still no sign of snowflakes falling. “Feels weird, doesn’t it? Christmas without snow.”

Yunho hummed in agreement beside you, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat as he followed your gaze. “Yeah, it’s like something’s missing. Hopefully, it’ll snow while we’re home.”

His voice was hopeful, and you could see the small spark of excitement in his eyes. Yunho loved snow—it wasn’t just the beauty of it, but the way it brought a sense of stillness and magic to the world. The kind of magic that reminded you both of simpler times, of building snowmen as kids and staying out too long until your fingers were numb.

The next morning, Yunho’s wish came true.

Snow. Fresh, untouched snow covered everything. The rooftops, the streets, the trees—it all glistened under the early morning light, as if the entire world had been dipped in magic overnight.

This was the moment he’d been waiting for, the moment he hoped for when you both had been standing at the train station, wondering if Christmas would even feel like Christmas without snow. Now, it was here. His wish had come true.

But more than that, he wanted to share this moment with you.

You blinked up at the sky, a few lazy snowflakes still drifting down, landing on your lashes and melting against your skin. Yunho stood beside you, watching the way your eyes lit up, the way you took in the moment like it was something precious.

The two of you stood there for a while, wordlessly watching the snowfall together. It was the kind of stillness that felt sacred, the kind that only came with the first snow of the season.

As Yunho glanced at you, his breath caught. You weren’t doing anything special—just standing there, bundled up in your oversized hoodie, your hair slightly messy from sleep, your cheeks flushed from the cold. You weren’t trying to impress anyone, least of all him. You were just you, in the most effortless way, and somehow, that had always been enough.

There was a simplicity to the moment that felt different, more profound than he expected. Last summer, when you’d spent long, sunny days together, he’d thought he understood what he felt for you. He cared about you more than anyone, maybe more than he should’ve let on. It was a love that had grown quietly, steadily, and was beginning to envelop him.

It was too easy to love you. Too effortless, too natural, as if his heart had always been meant for you. And that’s what made it so dangerous.

He knew that sometimes, love—no matter how powerful—wasn’t enough. The thought of risking what you had—this simple, effortless connection that meant everything to him—for something as unpredictable as love felt like falling into the ocean.

And Yunho wasn’t ready to make the jump.

He groaned, pressing the heels of his hands against his temples as if that could somehow ease the pounding in his skull. His head felt like it was being split open, a dull, relentless ache that refused to let up. The events of the previous night were a blur—fragments of conversation, too many drinks, and the sinking realization that he’d gone well past his limit.

He’s supposed to head back to Seoul today, back to his life and the steady rhythm of work that usually kept his life in order. But there was no way he could face that right now, not with the amount of alcohol that had been consumed.

The events of last night came back to him in disjointed, hazy flashes. He remembered the way your fingers brushed against the plush toy, followed by the sudden paling of your face right before you collapsed to the floor.

Yunho’s heart had nearly stopped at that moment, the world around him crashing into stillness. The usual hum of the emporium faded into nothing, the vibrant colors of the shelves and strange objects blurring into meaningless shapes.

His legs moved before his mind could catch up, and he was running, sprinting toward you as if the very air had been torn from his lungs. The world shrank, narrowing to the sight of you lifeless in his arms.

"Y/N, stay with me," he whispered, panic thick in his voice as he cradled your unconscious body. It was the same terror he’d felt the day you disappeared, the same helpless, gut-wrenching fear that had kept him awake at night, haunted by the thought that he’d never see you again.

Yunho held you like his entire world depended on it, his arms wrapped tightly around you, desperate and unrelenting. He pressed his forehead against yours, as he cradled your head against his chest, the warmth of your skin barely noticeable as panic surged inside him.

“I’m sorry, just please, please don’t leave me,” he begged, his voice barely holding together. His fingers tightened their grip on you, trembling with the fear that if he let go, even for a second, you’d slip away for good.

He couldn’t lose you, not when he had just found you again.

Then came Wooyoung’s revelation. You had chosen to disappear from his life. It wasn’t an accident, or some cruel twist of fate. You had asked the shop to erase your memories—all of them. He could still hear Wooyoung’s voice, bitter and sharp, recounting the details, but the exact reason why Wooyoung had been so angry at him was lost in the fog of the night.

He remembered the sting—the way the door slammed behind him, the coldness of the night hitting his face as he stood there, dazed, confused and frustrated. You were alive, bound to this strange realm by forces he didn’t fully understand. But worse than that, you had willingly cut him out of your life.

After that, things blurred even more. He’d ended up at a bar, the numbness setting in as he ordered drink after drink, trying to drown the sea of emotions that threatened to consume him. Somewhere along the way, Yeosang had joined him, and Yunho found himself pouring his heart out—his frustrations, his guilt, his failures. He had ranted about the weight of trying to be the good guy while everything around him crumbled.

Now, in the harsh light of day, the weight of it all hit him with a different kind of intensity. His heart felt heavy, and he had no idea where to go from here.

Yunho sat up, staring at his phone as if it might give him the answers he was too afraid to ask for. His thumb hovered over Haewon’s name on the screen, trembling slightly. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say—he didn’t have a plan, only a sinking feeling in his chest that told him he couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine.

The line rang once, then twice. By the third ring, his heart had started racing, the weight of everything he had to confront pressing down on him like a vice. When it went to voicemail, Yunho’s stomach dropped.

“Hey, it’s Haewon! Sorry I missed your call, but leave a message and I’ll get back to you soon!”

The artificial cheer in her voice made his skin crawl, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. He could almost picture her—smiling, carefree, the version of her that had loved him wholeheartedly. But that wasn’t who she was anymore. That wasn’t who they were.

"Hey..." he finally whispered, “give me a call when you get a chance.” Yunho waited for a beat, as if hoping she might pick up at the last second, but the line remained silent, empty.

“Yunho? Aren’t you getting ready to head back?” His mom’s voice was gentle, but it startled him from his thoughts. She appeared in the doorway, concern etched in the lines of her face.

He didn’t respond immediately, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I don’t know if I’m going back,” he admitted softly, his voice thick with uncertainty.

His mom walked in, taking a seat on the edge of his bed, her presence warm and calming. She had always been able to read him better than anyone, even when he was trying his best to hide. Mrs. Jeong didn’t say anything for a moment, just letting the silence hang between them, giving him the space to breathe.

“Tell me more.”

Yunho sighed, running a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of everything he’d been holding in. It was strange—he felt like a teenager again, venting to his mom about his problems, but this time it felt more suffocating. The future he had thought he wanted, the life he had worked so hard to build, no longer felt like his.

“I’m hungover. I’m miserable. I don’t want to marry Haewon. I’m not happy with my job or where I am in my life. Mingi is my only friend, Yeosang kind of hates me, and Y/N…” He let out a watery chuckle, the sound laced with bitterness. “She’s gone.”

There it was, the truth laid bare—the reality that had been gnawing at him for months, too terrifying to confront. The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of everything he had been trying to ignore.

Mrs. Jeong’s gaze softened as she listened, her heart heavy with a mother’s instinct to protect, but knowing she couldn’t fix this for him. She reached out, placing a hand over his.

“You’ve been carrying this for a while, haven’t you?” Her voice was soft, laced with a sadness that only came from witnessing the quiet battles of someone you love.

Yunho looked down to their joined hands, his throat tightening. The words he had held back for so long hovered on the edge of his lips, threatening to escape.

“I thought I could handle it. But—" He paused, his fingers gripping hers a little tighter, his chest heaving as he fought to keep the floodgates closed.

"I don’t want to keep pretending I’m okay,” he continued, voice cracking slightly. “I’m tired, Mom. Of the job, the engagement, everything. It’s like I’m suffocating, and I don’t know how to breathe anymore.” he replied, quieter now, almost like he was talking to himself. It was the first time he’d admitted it out loud. The fear that had been chaining him to a future he didn’t want.

His mother exhaled softly, her brow furrowing as she absorbed his words. After a moment, she squeezed his hand and spoke gently, her voice calm but firm.

“You’ve always been so considerate. Always thinking of others. But have you thought about what you want? Truly want, not just what you think you should want?”

It wasn’t something Yunho had ever allowed himself to consider fully, and even now, the thought seemed almost too outlandish, too selfish. But the way his mother looked at him, with such understanding, made it feel less frightening, less impossible to confront.

“You’re allowed to want something different, Yunho. You’re allowed to change your mind. You’re allowed to choose yourself.”

Her words struck something within him, unraveling the tightly wound rope of expectations he had tangled himself in for so long. He hesitated, his heart pounding as he dared to voice the question that had haunted him for months.

“So you wouldn’t be upset if I called off the wedding?” His voice was small, almost as if he were afraid the very mention of it might cause everything to collapse around him.

His mother shook her head, her expression soft and reassuring. “Of course not, Yunho. Haewon is lovely, but…” She paused, choosing her words carefully, as she looked at him. “I always felt like she wasn’t the one for you.”

Yunho blinked, surprised by the admission. His mother had never said anything like that before, and in all their talks about the wedding, she had always been supportive, never giving any sign that she might have doubts of her own.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” he asked, almost incredulous.

“Because you’re finally listening to yourself. This is your life, not mine, not anyone else’s. It wasn’t my place to tell you how to live, Yunho. I wanted to believe that you knew what was best for you.”

“And if I quit my job?” he asked, testing the waters, anxiety sparking in his voice.

“Gunho would be thrilled,” she laughed. “You know, he was absolutely livid when you took the finance job over the Tigers. I’ve never seen him so upset with you! He ranted for weeks about how you were wasting your talents behind a desk instead of being out there building the ultimate dream team.”

His mother’s laughter faded, replaced by a more serious expression. “We’ve all had our hopes for you, Yunho. But those were our hopes, not yours. Life’s not a straight line. It’s full of twists and turns. You don’t have to stay on a path that doesn’t feel right anymore.”

There was something comforting about the idea, the notion of stepping away from the path he had chosen, back to something that felt more like home—more like himself. Sitting with his mother, he began to wonder: What if it wasn’t reckless? What if choosing the life he truly wanted wasn’t some wild, selfish fantasy? What if it was okay to dream again?

His mind wandered to you, to the quiet snowfall and how the snowflakes caught on your lashes. He thought of that summer, driving to the beach, the wind in your hair and the sun beaming down on you, like the world itself couldn’t touch you as long as you were together.

He thought of meeting you for the first time at six years old, running across the street and greeting you as if he’d known him your entire life. It was as if he’d found his other half that day, the person who made him feel complete even in his innocence.

But then, more painfully, he thought of meeting you for the first time again. Only this time, you hadn’t known him at all.

With you, there was no need to fill the silence. Everything felt easy, natural, like you were meant to exist beside each other. You were his best friend, the one person who made him feel like himself. And suddenly, Yunho knew.

It was you.

The version of himself that existed when he was with you—that was who he truly was. It was a terrifying realization, but at the same time, it was the most certain thing he’d felt in a long time. You had always been the one constant in his life, the one person who made everything feel okay, even when it wasn’t.

And he didn’t want to lose that. He didn’t want to lose you.

He wanted a future with you.

Yunho swallowed, his pulse quickening, but for the first time in what felt like forever, his mind was clear.

“I think…” he began, his voice steady, resolute, “I know where I want to go from here.”

Pushing open the door, the familiar chime rang through the shop. It was empty, save for you, and Yunho’s breath caught when he saw you standing behind the counter, bathed in the glow of fading daylight.

He glanced over at you, watching the way you moved, how you seemed so different and yet so familiar. The person standing in front of him was still you, the same person he’d known since childhood. The memories from childhood rushed back again—the snow, the summer sun, the first time you played baseball together. It all made sense now, in ways it never had before.

“Yunho,” you greeted, your voice carrying a warmth as you lifted your hand with a graceful flick. The scroll hovering beside you shimmered for a moment, then dissolved into the air, disappearing as if it had never existed.

“How are you feeling?” Yunho asked quietly. There was something boyish, almost shy, in the way he looked at you, like he was a kid again, standing in front of his crush, hoping for something, anything, that would tell him he was making the right choice.

“Better. Thank you for being here the other night. It seems like you were a big help to Wooyoung.”

"I'm glad to hear that," he murmured, his voice soft as his gaze lingered on you, his eyes softening as if he were seeing you for the first time all over again. There was a quiet admiration that he couldn’t quite hide, no matter how hard he tried to keep his emotions in check.

"I uh…" he hesitated, his eyes flickered away for a moment, as if searching for courage in the silence between you, “I’m leaving for Seoul. Just to take care of some things. I wanted to see you before I left.”

You tilted your head, curiosity lighting up your eyes, the corners of your lips lifting in that familiar way that made his heart stutter. A playful yet gentle hum escaped your lips.

“Oh? And why’s that?”

Your question hung in the air, teasing him, pulling at the tangled mess of feelings he'd tried to bury for so long. He looked at you, a faint flush creeping up his neck as he struggled to find the right response.

“I—” he started, but his voice faltered. His pulse quickened, and for a moment, he felt completely exposed. “I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye.”

The air around you seemed to still, the gravity of his admission settling like dust in the corners of the emporium. The idea of leaving felt wrong to him, and yet it was inevitable, something he had to do.

Your eyes softened with understanding, feeling more like home than any place he could go. Something in your gaze recognized him, sensing the invisible thread that tied you together.

“No matter where you are,” you said quietly, your voice carrying the same calm assurance that had always soothed him, “the emporium will always be within reach. As will I.”

The words were simple, yet they held a promise—a promise that went beyond physical space or memory. The emporium was never bound by the ordinary rules of the world, and neither, it seemed, were you. Your small, understanding smile made Yunho feel that, despite the uncertainty, everything would be okay.

“Besides,” you continued, a playful glint flickering in your eyes, “I can always ask Wooyoung to lend a helping hand. He knows the way.”

“That cat does nothing but bully me,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, recalling how Wooyoung had made him a target of mischief.

Your laugh filled the space between you, a sound that seemed to chase away the heaviness for just a moment. Though Yunho tried to maintain his frown, the corners of his lips betrayed him, lifting into a reluctant smile.

Even though you didn’t remember him, it didn’t matter. There was something deeper between you, something unshakeable. And that, in its own way, gave him the strength he needed to leave.

You stepped forward, that invisible thread that had always seemed to exist between you tugged at your heart, drawing you toward him. It was a connection that transcended words, possibly even space and time. Yunho’s eyes lingered on you, their quiet intensity making your heart skip a beat.

“The next time I come into the shop,” he began, his voice low, “I’ll be ready to make my wish.”

You searched his face, trying to read the depths of what he meant, but all you found was that same gentle fervor staring back at you.

“You’ve thought about it?”

“I have,” he admitted. “With everything that’s happening, I think I finally know what I want.”

The weight of his words settled between you like a promise. Whatever his wish was, it wasn’t something to be rushed—it belonged to the future, a time when he was ready to claim it. And somehow, you understood that.

“I’ll be waiting,” you whispered, though you knew Yunho heard it.

As he turned to leave, a sudden thought gripped you, pulling you back from the brink of your goodbye. “Yunho… before you leave…”

He froze at the sound of his name on your lips, his heart fluttering. Every breath, every glance, vibrated with something unspoken, something powerful.

“Who are you?” you asked, your voice soft, tentative. “To me?”

<< iii | v >>

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#ateez #ateez fanfic #jeong yunho #ateez yunho #yunho x reader #yunho x you #ateez fic #modern au #ateez au #magic au #yunho #ateez imagines #yunho angst #forget me not #supernatural au

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seongwars · 3 months ago

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forget me not | i

Fic Masterlist

a/n: the long awaited first chapter of my Yunho mini series I've been struggling with is finally here (and yes I was inspired by xxxholic)

Jeong Yunho considered himself to be lucky.

He had a successful career in investment banking at KQ Bank, where his strategic acumen and relentless work ethic had earned him respect and a solid reputation among his peers and leadership.

His social life was equally fulfilling; he mingled with influential figures in his field, enjoyed lively gatherings, and maintained a close circle of friends who valued his thoughtfulness and charisma.

And he was set to marry the love of his life–Haewon. Their engagement was the kind of story people loved to hear, a testament to their enduring love and shared journey from pulling all-nighters at the library to the challenges of real adulthood.

To those around them, their union seemed like a fairytale—a perfect blend of romance and stability that they had carefully cultivated over the years. Friends and family often remarked on how well-suited they were for each other, their complementary personalities creating a harmonious balance.

Yet, despite the joy and excitement that should have accompanied the impending nuptials, Yunho couldn’t shake the sensation in his gut that something was amiss. There was a persistent unease that clung to him, a whisper in the back of his mind that the world wasn’t as perfect as it seemed.

The stark contrast between his inner turmoil and the outward celebration became even more apparent as he stepped into the vibrant atmosphere of his engagement party. The event was in full swing, alive with laughter and the clinking of glasses. Soft lights twinkled around the cozy restaurant, casting a warm glow over the guests who mingled and celebrated the joyous occasion.

Despite the festive atmosphere, Yunho found himself at odds with his fiancée. As he wove through the crowd, exchanging polite smiles and nods, he couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that had settled in his chest. He scanned the room, his eyes finally landing on Haewon. There she was, surrounded by her friends, her laughter ringing out above the din. She looked radiant, her face flushed with happiness, but Yunho couldn’t help but notice the almost empty glass of champagne in her hand. Again.

He made his way over to her, his steps slow and deliberate. As he approached, Haewon turned and saw him, her smile widening.

“Babe! Come join us!” she slurred, her voice bright and cheerful despite her flushed state. Her friends echoed her invitation, their faces glowing with the effects of the evening’s festivities.

Yunho forced a smile, trying to mask his concern. “Hey,” he greeted, slipping an arm around Haewon’s waist. “Having a good time?”

Haewon leaned into him, her balance slightly off. “The best time!” she exclaimed, her words blending together. She raised her nearly empty glass in a toast, her eyes sparkling with the effects of the alcohol. “To us!” she cheered, and her friends joined in, raising their glasses and laughing.

Yunho’s smile wavered as he felt the weight of Haewon against him. He could smell the sharp scent of champagne on her breath, and it only deepened his worry. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself,” he said, his voice gentle but tinged with concern. “Maybe it’s time for some water, yeah?”

Haewon pouted, her expression turning petulant. “Okay, fun police,” she chided, her tone playful but with an edge of irritation. “I’m fine. Just having fun with my friends.”

One of Haewon’s friends, Sungjae, sensing Yunho’s irritation, threw an arm around him and grinned. “Come on, Yunho, let her enjoy the night. It’s a celebration, after all!” he said, a hint of condescension in his tone.

Yunho forced a tight smile, feeling the weight of Sungjae’s arm on his shoulders. “I know,” he replied, trying to keep his voice steady. “I just want to make sure she’s okay.”

Sungjae chuckled, giving Yunho a light squeeze. “She’s fine, man. It’s just one night. Let loose a little,” he said, his words slurring slightly. “You’re always so serious.”

“Yeah babe,” Haewon added, “Loosen up a little. Why do you care so much about what these people think?”

Yunho’s jaw tightened, but he nodded, not wanting to cause a scene. He could feel the eyes of their friends and family on them, the weight of their expectations pressing down on him. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his emotions.

“It’s not about what they think,” he said quietly, his voice strained. “It’s about us. I want to celebrate with you, not just stand on the sidelines while you’re with your friends.”

Haewon rolled her eyes, clearly exasperated. “So now I’m not allowed to have fun with my friends? Is that it? I thought we were having a party, not a private event just for the two of us.” She set down her champagne flute with a sharp clink, her irritation evident.

Yunho’s face fell at her sharp words, the frustration in her tone piercing through him. He took another deep breath, trying to keep his voice steady. “That’s not what I’m saying. Look, we should take this outside. I don’t want us fighting in front of everyone.”

Haewon, visibly drunk, glared at Yunho with frustration. “You know what? Maybe you should’ve been more clear about what you wanted from this party,” she snapped, her voice rising. “I’m here, I’m celebrating with everyone. Now you’re just making me feel like I’m doing something wrong.”

Yunho’s shoulders sagged, frustration clouding his features as partygoers began turning their attention towards the couple. “It’s not about doing something wrong. I just wanted us to share this moment together, not have me feel like a spectator at my own engagement party.”

“This is ridiculous. I’m not going to change how I enjoy myself just because you’re having a problem with it,” she retorted, turning on her heel. Sungjae followed her out as she stormed towards the exit.

“You’re always trying to play the role of the perfect fiancé, but it’s never about what I want or how I feel,” Haewon continued, her voice echoing through the hall. “Maybe if you stopped worrying so much about everyone else and focused on what really matters, you’d see that I’m trying to enjoy myself.”

Yunho’s heart sank at her words, the warmth and joy of the engagement party now feeling hollow. The lively chatter and music of the party seemed to blur into background noise as Yunho stood alone, grappling with the weight of her accusations and the growing distance between them.

Yunho Age 20

It was the spring semester of his first year of university. You had invited him over to your dorm to study together, and he was eager to catch up with you. As he approached your room, he could hear the faint sound of music and laughter from inside.

He knocked on the door, and it swung open to reveal a lively scene. You were sitting on the floor, surrounded by books and notes, while a girl with a bright smile and sparkling eyes was dancing around the room, her energy infectious.

You looked up from your study materials, your expression shifting from concentration to playful mischief. With a grin, you held up a hand and called out, “What’s the password?”

The question was delivered with a familiar teasing tone, and Yunho’s eyes twinkled with recognition. He didn’t miss a beat. “Spidey Swings,” he answered, his voice filled with the kind of nostalgia that came from years of shared jokes and childhood memories.

“Fine, I guess you can come in.”

Yunho stepped inside, the warmth of the room and the familiarity of the password bringing a comforting sense of home. The girl, still smiling, gave him a friendly wave before resuming her lively routine. You patted the space next to you, inviting him to sit down amidst the scattered notes and textbooks.

“This is my roommate, Haewon,” you added. Haewon turned to face him, her smile widening.

“Hi, Yunho! Nice to meet you,” she greeted with a small bow. “Sorry for the mess, we were just taking a break from studying.”

Yunho shook her hand, feeling a bit overwhelmed by her vibrant presence. “Nice to meet you too,” he replied, stepping inside and setting his bag down. “I brought some snacks. Thought we might need them.”

“Perfect timing!” Haewon exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “We were just about to take a snack break!”

The three of you spent the evening studying, chatting, and laughing. Haewon’s lively personality added a new dynamic to the group, and Yunho found himself enjoying her company. She had a way of making everyone feel included and at ease, and it wasn’t long before Yunho felt like he had known her for years.

Yunho watched as Haewon discussed her passions—her enthusiasm for art, her love for literature, and her drive to make a difference in the world. There was a fire in her eyes, a passion that lit up the room and captivated Yunho. She spoke with an earnestness that was both refreshing and inspiring, weaving her dreams into the conversation with effortless grace.

As the evening progressed, Yunho found himself increasingly drawn to Haewon. Her warmth and generosity were undeniable, and he felt a growing respect and admiration for her. They exchanged stories and laughed together, and Yunho began to see Haewon not just as a friend but as someone who brought a unique and positive energy into his life.

As the night drew to a close and the room fell silent, Yunho realized the depth of his growing connection with Haewon. In the following weeks, they spent more time together, their relationship blossoming into a cornerstone of support and happiness that Yunho hadn’t known he needed.

A few weeks later, you found yourself sitting in Yunho’s dorm, watching him pace frantically. The light from his desk lamp cast long shadows, highlighting the stacks of textbooks and notes scattered around. You had come over, expecting a routine study session, but Yunho’s demeanor was different tonight—he was a nervous wreck.

Sitting at the edge of his bed, you felt a knot tighten in your stomach, sensing the gravity of the conversation ahead. You had always been there for Yunho, studying together and planning your futures, but tonight was different. Tonight, you were about to hear something that would cut deeper than you had expected.

“I’ve been thinking a lot lately. About Haewon.” Yunho finally blurted out, his voice tinged with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

“Yeah? What about her?” you asked.

Yunho took a deep breath, as if gathering the courage to say what he had been holding back. “I’m planning to confess to her. I’ve realized I really care about her—a lot.”

Your heart sank. You had noticed Yunho and Haewon getting closer, but hearing him say it out loud felt like a punch to the gut. You forced a smile, hoping it didn’t look as strained as it felt.

“Oh, really? That’s great! Have you thought about how you’re going to do it?”

“Yeah, probably at the coffee shop she likes. Every time I’m with her, it just feels right. But I don’t want to ruin our friendship if she doesn’t feel the same.”

You nodded, trying to keep your emotions in check. “That sounds like a good plan. The coffee shop is a nice, relaxed place. I’m sure she’ll appreciate the thought you’ve put into it.”

You sat there for a moment, the weight of your emotions pressing down on you. You had loved Yunho for as long as you could remember. His laugh, his kindness, the way he always knew how to make you smile—everything about him had captured your heart. But you had never had the courage to tell him, fearing it would ruin the friendship you cherished so much.

“Just be yourself and be honest,” you encouraged him with a reassuring smile, though the lump in your throat betrayed the flood of emotions you were trying to contain.

As Yunho continued to talk about his plans, you listened, offering support and encouragement. But deep down, you couldn’t shake the feeling of loss, knowing that things were about to change in ways you hadn’t anticipated.

Yunho wandered aimlessly, his gaze fixed on the stars above, each one a silent witness to his regrets. His earlier confrontation with Haewon replayed in his mind—her dismissive words, the hurtful accusations and the way she had turned away with that sharp, unyielding look in her eye.

The more he thought about their argument, the more his frustration bubbled to the surface. He stopped by a bench near the waterfront of the venue, sinking onto it with a heavy sigh. The cool breeze brushed against his face, but it did little to calm the storm swirling within. Yunho stared into the darkness, struggling to make sense of the fractured emotions and the shifting dynamics in his relationship. The night seemed to stretch endlessly, a reflection of the uncertain and painful path he now faced.

He closed his eyes and for a moment wished things could be different.

First, he wished he hadn’t proposed to Haewon out of desperation, trying to salvage their deteriorating relationship. The memory of her storming out of the engagement party with Sungjae right behind her replayed in his mind, a constant reminder of his misguided attempt to hold onto something that was already slipping away.

Yunho stood nervously in the center of the beautifully decorated garden, the soft glow of fairy lights casting a magical ambiance. The scent of blooming flowers filled the air, mingling with the faint sound of a nearby fountain. Every detail had been meticulously planned—from the arrangement of the candles to the delicate petals scattered along the path. Yunho wanted this moment to be nothing short of perfect.

Is this really the right thing to do? The question echoed in the back of Yunho’s mind, a persistent whisper that refused to be silenced. The small velvet box felt like it was burning a hole in his pocket, its weight far heavier than it should be, laden with all his doubts and fears.

As Haewon approached, her eyes widened in surprise, taking in the romantic setting. Her heart raced as she realized what was about to happen. Yunho’s hands trembled slightly as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small velvet box. With a deep breath, he got down on one knee, holding out the ring that symbolized his commitment to her.

Tears of joy welled up in her eyes as she looked at Yunho, her emotions overwhelming her. Her lips parted, and through her tears, she managed to say, her voice trembling with raw emotion, “Yes! Yes, Yunho,” she finally managed to say, between sobs.

The crowd of friends and family, who had been watching from a distance, erupted in cheers and applause. For Yunho and Haewon, it felt like they were the only two people in the world.

Please let this be enough, he silently pleaded.

But the months following the proposal were fraught with doubts, especially regarding Sungjae, Haewon’s long-time friend. Yunho couldn’t ignore the ease with which Haewon and Sungjae interacted—their shared jokes, the effortless understanding between them. It made him question if Haewon confided in Sungjae more than she did in him, and whether Sungjae had been filling emotional gaps that he hadn’t been able to for years.

Second, he regretted passing up an opportunity with the KIA Tigers for an investment baking position. The memory of that pivotal moment was etched in his mind—an offer from the Tigers, a chance to work closely with the team he had idolized for as long as he could remember, slipping through his fingers because he had chosen to pursue a more secure, yet uninspiring, career in finance.

He remembered the excitement in his voice as he spoke about the possibility of becoming a scout, the chance to blend his passion for baseball with a professional role. It had felt like the ultimate dream, a convergence of his personal passion and career ambitions. But when the time came to make a choice, he recalled the pressure he felt from his family to choose a path with financial stability, their voices echoing in his mind with phrases like "responsible choice" and "practical future."

Their expectations, though well-intentioned, had overshadowed his own aspirations. The investment banking opportunity, with its promise of stability, was seen as a safer bet, a way to meet his family's expectations and ensure a secure future.

Now, as he sat alone by the waterfront, he could almost hear the cheers from the ballpark, feel the crack of the bat and the thrill of the game that he had sacrificed for the illusion of financial security. It was a safe choice, a pragmatic one, but it lacked the excitement and fulfillment he had once envisioned. Each day at the desk felt like a reminder of a dream deferred, a passion left unpursued.

And lastly, he wished you were still here. Yunho missed your presence more than he could convey. You had a way of making him feel grounded, no matter how chaotic life became. He often thought about the times you spent together, laughing over silly jokes or sharing deep conversations late into the night. You were his best friend, the one person he could always lean on, telling him that everything would be fine.

That night, Yunho didn’t return to his apartment—he couldn't, especially not after his fight with Haewon. Instead, he found himself on the highway, the city lights fading in his rearview mirror as he made the long drive back to his parents' house. The place where he grew up. The place that, no matter how much time had passed, still held a part of him.

The house was quiet when he arrived, his parents long asleep after leaving the party earlier in the evening. It felt strange to be back here, like stepping into a time capsule where everything had remained the same even as he had changed.

He climbed the stairs slowly, each step bringing back memories of late-night chats with you on the phone, trying to keep his voice down so his parents wouldn’t hear. When he reached his old bedroom, he hesitated, his hand on the doorknob. It had been so long since he'd been in this room, yet the moment he opened the door, it was like he had never left.

Everything was still in place—his bed, neatly made with the same comforter he’d had since high school. His desk and walls were cluttered with the remnants of his teenage years: baseball memorabilia, trophies from tournaments, and framed photos of his high school baseball team. He noticed a few with you in them, your smile always bright and full of life.

His gaze landed on a polaroid nestled between a postcard and a team photo. It was of you and him, taken years ago when you were probably 8 or 9. The two of you were sitting on the steps leading up to Mt. Bukhansan, grinning with a mix of pride and exhaustion. You had insisted on taking the picture because it was the first big hike you’d done together.

The polaroid was worn, the edges slightly frayed from years of being handled. Yunho’s thumb brushed over your smiling face, a bittersweet ache settling in his chest. You were so young, so carefree—neither of you had any idea how much your lives would change, how much you would lose.

It was then that he noticed a small, battered box tucked under his desk, nearly hidden by an old baseball bat leaning against the chair. Curiosity piqued, Yunho knelt down to pull the box out into the open. He sifted through years of ticket stubs, notebooks, and magazines–each item bringing back a memory, a fleeting image of the life he once had.

And then he saw it.

At the bottom of the box, beneath the pile of knicknacks, was a leather-bound book. It was worn, the corners frayed and the spine slightly cracked. Yunho’s breath caught in his throat as he recognized it immediately. This was your journal—the one you had carried with you everywhere, always scribbling something inside, your thoughts, your dreams, your frustrations.

Yunho’s fingers traced the edges of the pages before he flipped it open, revealing the sketches you had created over the years. Your talent for art was undeniable, yet you had always hesitated to pursue it professionally, fearing that turning your passion into a livelihood might extinguish the joy it brought you.

He stopped to look at one of his portraits. You had captured him perfectly, every line and shadow carefully rendered with an artist’s precision. His eyes, his smile—everything about the sketch was so vivid, so full of life. But it wasn’t just the accuracy of the drawing that struck him; it was the way you had drawn him, the way you had seen him.

In the drawing, Yunho looked confident staring out into the outfield, his expression relaxed and warm. There was a softness in his eyes, a quiet strength that you had always admired but that he had never really seen in himself.

Your sudden disappearance at 22 had been both bewildering and devastating.

It was your father who first noticed the gaps in your routine. You regularly checked in with your parents, recounting your day, the kind of photos you’d taken in your photography course, to the kind of food that was being served in the cafeteria. When a day passed without your usual call, he brushed it off as a busy day. But when two days went by, his concern grew.

“Have you heard from Y/N?” your father had asked Yunho, his voice laced with worry when he couldn’t get a hold of you. Yunho, who had been preoccupied with his own life, felt a pang of guilt. He hadn’t heard from you either, not since your last argument.

When Yunho confessed he hadn’t, his worry deepened. He tried calling you multiple times, but each call went straight to voicemail. Panic started to set in. He stopped by your apartment and checked your social media, but there were no new posts, no updates. It was as if you had vanished.

Your family coordinated with the police, attending briefings and following up on every lead. Their days were filled with frustration as false tips and unconfirmed sightings piled up, each one a fleeting hope that crumbled into disappointment. The news of your disappearance even made local headlines, capturing the concern and sympathy of the public.

“Tonight at 6:00, we bring you a developing story that has left authorities baffled. The sudden disappearance of 22-year-old Lee Y/N has sparked a widespread search effort. Y/N was last seen on the evening of November 11th, following a night with friends. Concerned family and friends reported her missing after she failed to return home and did not respond to calls or messages. Law enforcement officials are actively investigating and following up on all leads as the search continues. Stay tuned for more updates on this unfolding situation.”

As the months turned into years, the intensity of the search began to wane. The once-hopeful posters and media coverage faded into the background of daily life, leaving your parents in a painful limbo of uncertainty. Each passing day without news felt like an eternity, their hearts heavy with the ache of your absence.

He carefully placed the journal back into the box, closing the lid before crawling into bed.

After what felt like hours of tossing and turning, he finally gave up. The stillness of the room felt suffocating, the darkness pressing in on him from all sides. He needed air, needed to move, to do something—anything—to quiet the storm inside him.

The night was calm, the streets empty, and for a moment, Yunho felt a strange sense of peace. The world was asleep, and in the stillness, he could almost pretend that everything was okay.

He started walking, his footsteps echoing softly in the quiet. The familiar sights of the neighborhood, usually bustling with activity during the day, now seemed serene, bathed in the gentle glow of the streetlights. As he wandered through the quiet streets, lost in thought, he found himself pausing at a familiar corner. His footsteps slowed as he glanced across the street, where your childhood home stood.

Yunho's heart ached as he looked at the house. He remembered how close you had been, how your home had been a second haven for him growing up. It was where you had shared countless memories, where you had talked for hours about everything and nothing. The house seemed like a monument to the past, a place frozen in time while he struggled to move forward without you.

The night breeze carried the scent of jasmine and incense, luring him toward a small park—the one he had often visited with you and his brother Gunho during happier days. He inhaled deeply, letting the soothing aroma momentarily distract him from his worries. His eyes shot open, snapping out of his dreamlike haze as he looked around, feeling an inexplicable pull drawing him toward something unseen.

As he turned, a storefront appeared—as if by magic. The building was unlike any he had seen before, its traditional façade glowing softly in the dim light, surrounded by an overhang of flowers forming a vibrant canopy.

He took a hesitant step forward, then another, drawn by an inexplicable force that seemed to tug at his very soul. Each step felt both heavy and light, as if he were walking through a dream. The soft glow from the storefront bathed him in a warm, inviting light, contrasting sharply with the cool night air.

Cautious and intrigued, Yunho’s heart pounded in his chest. He could feel the gentle hum of energy emanating from the shop, a subtle vibration that resonated deep within him. The same scent of jasmine and incense, wrapping around him like a comforting embrace, urging him to continue.

As he approached the door, he paused, his hand hovering just inches from the brass knocker. The wood felt warm, almost alive. Taking a deep breath, he touched the door, feeling a slight tingle run up his arm.

Yunho pushed the door open, revealing shelves filled with an array of curious objects—ancient books with gilded covers and delicate glass bottles filled with clouds of stardust. Above, the ceiling was a marvel: an expansive skylight with intricately patterned glass panels allowed a cascade of soft, dappled light to filter through an enchanting tapestry of hanging plants and flowers.

He quickly realized he had crossed a threshold into a realm where the ordinary rules of reality no longer applied.

“Welcome to the Astral Emporium.”

He whipped around, trying to locate the source of the voice that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere all at once.

“Down here!”

His gaze landed on a black cat with an elegant red ribbon fastened around its neck. The ribbon’s vibrant hue contrasted sharply with the cat’s inky fur, and his onyx eyes glowed with an otherworldly intelligence. The cat cleared its throat, a sound that was oddly formal and out of place coming from such a small creature.

Yunho blinked in surprise, his confusion evident. “You can talk!?” he exclaimed, his eyes widening as he crouched down to get a closer look at the feline. The cat regarded him with an air of casual indifference, its tail flicking lightly.

“Didn’t you hear me when you walked in?” the cat replied, its tone almost bored, as if it were used to the astonished reactions of newcomers.

“You’re talking. A cat... is talking. How is that even possible?”

The cat stretched languidly, its body arching gracefully.“This is a realm of possibilities,” he yawned, revealing sharp, white teeth and a pink tongue. His voice was a deep, resonant purr that seemed to vibrate through the air. “The rules of reality are… somewhat relaxed. So, are you here to have a wish granted or what?”

“Wooyoung, stop giving the traveler a hard time,” came a soft, melodic voice from behind.

Yunho’s breath caught in his throat. He knew that voice, a voice he thought he’d never hear again. His eyes widened as emotions coursed through him—hope, disbelief, and a deep longing.

“Y/N?” he whispered, the name trembling on his lips, as if saying it aloud would shatter the fragile moment.

The moment you stepped into the light, your elaborate dress captivated his attention. The silk skirt flowed gracefully to the floor, adorned with intricate patterns of iridescent clouds that shimmered softly in the ambient glow. The vibrant hues of the jacket draped over your shoulders contrasted beautifully with the delicate floral embroidery that wound its way across the fabric.

You chuckled softly, the sound as gentle as a breeze through the leaves. “I’m sorry, traveler, my familiar is quite the cheeky one.”

As you moved, the tassels of your ornate hairpin clinked softly in your side-swept chignon, creating a gentle, melodic chime with each step. You circled Yunho with a curious gaze, your eyes sparkling with intrigue.

He blinked in surprise, momentarily taken aback. His gaze flickered from the elongated smoking pipe in your hand to the enigmatic expression on your face, trying to determine if it was all an illusion. His mind raced, grappling with the impossible reality before him.

“Y/N,” Yunho began, reaching out slightly “is it really you?”

You were the same, yet different—there was a newfound confidence in your posture and a whimsical glint in your eyes that he hadn’t seen before. His heart pounded in his chest, torn between relief and confusion.

“I have many names, unfortunately Y/N is not one of them.” You watched him with sympathy, recognizing the skepticism in his eyes. “It seems you’ve mistaken me for someone else.”

“No, you have to be Y/N.” Yunho’s eyes flickered with uncertainty, the question hanging heavily in the air. His breath hitched as he watched you, his mind struggling to reconcile the familiarity of your face with the strangeness of your words. “Wait! What’s your favorite baseball team?”

You tilted your head, a puzzled expression crossing your face. “Baseball?”

Yunho’s shoulders slumped, the weight of your words pressing down on him. He felt a crushing sense of defeat, his hope slipping away like sand through his fingers. “I don’t understand,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

You took a deep breath, your expression softening with an empathy that was both comforting and sorrowful. “I’m simply a keeper of this place, bound to fulfill the wishes of travelers like yourself. This place, and my role within it, has existed for far longer than either of us can imagine.”

The thought that this could be another version of you—someone who looked and spoke like you, but wasn’t the same person he once knew—was unbearable. How could he accept that the best friend he believed he lost forever could exist in a form that wasn’t entirely the same?

“So why am I here?” he asked, his voice tinged with defeat.

“The shop responded to your call,” you sighed softly, as an intricate counter materialized before you, its surface adorned with dragons soaring through the clouds. Leaning against it, you rested your chin in one hand, while the other held the pipe, from which a wisp of smoke curled lazily into the air.

Yunho’s brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean it responded to my call?”

“The shop exists in a realm between the supernatural and the living, responding to the energy of your desires. It sensed that you possessed a strong desire for something and made its presence known.”

“A desire?” Yunho’s gaze drifted to the counter, the dragons seeming to move and shift as if alive.

You smiled gently, the smoke from your pipe forming delicate patterns in the air. “A wish. Not quite like the fairy tales, but wishes are the desires that reside deep within your heart. They can be as simple as wanting a moment of peace or as complex as seeking a purpose in life.”

“And as for who grants the wishes,” you continued, leaning in slightly, “that would be me. Travelers usually refer to me as a witch.”

Yunho swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper. “How do you grant wishes?”

“The process is simple,” you explained, your tone both gentle and firm. “For a wish to be granted, you must exchange something of equal value in return.”

“What kind of exchange?” Yunho asked, his voice tinged with apprehension.

You took a slow, deliberate puff from your pipe, the smoke curling around you like a protective veil. “It depends,” you replied, twirling your pipe between your bejeweled fingers. “Sometimes it’s a memento, a cherished item that holds personal significance. In ancient times, travelers might have offered a blood sacrifice, though we’ve moved beyond such extremes. The more powerful the wish, the more it exacts in return. The magic here is potent and unpredictable, and it demands balance.”

His eyes widened, the weight of your words sinking in. “So, I have to give up something important to me?”

“Not necessarily,” you confirmed, your gaze steady. “The shop only takes what you are willing to offer. The choice is always yours, though I caution that you cannot take back a wish once it’s been granted.”

Yunho didn’t know why his thoughts drift back to that fateful night. Maybe it was because it was the last memory he had of you before everything changed. The words you exchanged, the hurt in your eyes, replayed in his mind like a haunting echo. He wondered if things could have been different, if he had just made a different choice, said something else.

You were at Yunho’s apartment, enjoying a rare evening of relaxation. The soft hum of conversation and laughter filled the room as Yunho's friends mingled. You were perched on the couch, absorbed in your sketchbook, the quiet joy of drawing grounding you amidst the cheerful chaos.

The tranquility was shattered when Sungjae, ever a thorn in Yunho’s side, staggered over. His inebriated state was evident; he moved with a lack of coordination that drew your attention only when he was almost upon you. Without warning, Sungjae lurched forward, his hand grabbing the edge of your journal with a clumsy urgency.

“What’s this?” he slurred, his voice a mix of drunken curiosity and derision. He dangled the open pages in front of you, the sketch of Yunho exposed and vulnerable.

“What the fuck are you doing? Give it back!” you demanded, trying to reach for the journal, but Sungjae was too quick, his movements fueled by liquid courage.

“You’re always scribbling in this book,” Sungjae sneered, flipping through the pages with exaggerated, careless motions. “What’s the big deal?”

Your frustration surged. “Seriously, Sungjae, just give it back!” you urged, your voice rising. The journal was more than just sketches to you; it was a reflection of your thoughts, your feelings—an intimate part of yourself you’d chosen to share with no one but yourself.

He brought the journal closer to his face, a cruel smirk spreading across his lips as he turned the pages. “Yunho! Hey Yunho! Check this out!” Sungjae’s voice cut through the room, mocking and loud.

Yunho looked up from his conversation with Mingi, confusion and concern crossing his face as he saw Sungjae holding your journal. He began to walk over, but the unease in his eyes was clear as he approached.

Sungjae flipped through the pages with exaggerated movements, revealing sketch after sketch of Yunho. “Look at this!” he laughed, his voice dripping with mockery as he showed Yunho your illustrations. “You’ve got a whole gallery dedicated to him!” He turned to face you, your cheeks burning with fury. “What are you, obsessed with him or something?”

“It’s not like that,” you protested, reaching for the journal again. Your fingers brushed the edge of the book, but Sungjae yanked it out of your grasp, his laughter growing louder.

“Oh, come on. You’re totally in love with him, aren’t you? That’s why you’re always drawing like some kind of freak!” His voice dripped with contempt, and his words felt like a dagger to your heart. He tossed your journal aside carelessly, the soft thud echoing in the now silent room.

You immediately snatched the journal and held it securely against your chest before storming towards the door. The once warm and inviting apartment now felt like a stark reminder of the awkwardness and discomfort that had unfolded. The laughter and easy conversations from earlier seemed like a distant memory, eclipsed by the confrontation with Sungjae.

As you moved toward the door, Yunho approached you, his expression a mix of concern and hesitance. “Hey, let me walk you out,” he said, his voice softer than before.

You nodded, appreciating the gesture despite the uneasy atmosphere. The two of you left in silence out into the night, the noise of the party grew fainter, replaced by the subtle thrum of the city.

“I’m sorry about what happened,” Yunho said quietly, his eyes locked on the ground as he stuck his hands into his pockets. He kicked a stray pebble, watching it roll away.

“You’re sorry?” you snapped, your voice shaking with hurt as you spun around to face him. “If you were really sorry, you’d have done something about that asshole.”

The tension in his shoulders was palpable as he shot back, “What do you expect me to do, Y/N? I can’t come to your rescue every single time!” Yunho’s tone was edged with frustration, and the defensiveness in his voice was unmistakable.

“I’m not asking you to rescue me!” you shouted. The anger in your voice grew sharper, your hands clenched into fists. “I’m asking you to stand up for me, to not let some asshole humiliate me in front of everyone in your own apartment!”

“Oh, so now it’s my fault because I didn’t want to start a scene? I’m trying to keep the peace here!”

“Keep the peace?” you shouted, your voice breaking as your tears spilled over. “Is that what you call it? Keeping the peace by standing there like a coward and letting someone walk all over me?”

“He’s Haewon’s friend. What was I supposed to do?” Yunho’s tone was clipped, each word laced with his own frustration.

Your eyes filled with tears as you looked at him, feeling the weight of his indifference. “Are you seriously telling me that your girlfriend’s shitty friend matters more than me? You don’t even like him, Yunho!”

Yunho looked away, his jaw set in a hard line. “Haewon’s friends are important to her, and I didn’t want to make things awkward.”

A bitter laugh escaped you, but it quickly turned into a choked sob. “So fuck my feelings, right?” you said, your voice trembling as tears streamed down your face. “You’d rather protect that asshole than stand up for me?”

Yunho’s eyes finally met yours, but they were empty, cold, devoid of the warmth you once knew. “She’s my girlfriend, Y/N. I have to prioritize her!” He spat, his voice growing harsher. “And maybe if you weren’t such a loser, always clinging to that stupid journal, you wouldn’t be in this mess! You’re so embarrassing, it’s pathetic.”

You felt as if the ground had been pulled out from under you. The words cut deep, each one a dagger to your heart. You took a shaky breath, the pain piercing through you.

“The truth finally comes out,” you whispered, barely able to speak through the agony gripping your heart.

For a fleeting moment, Yunho’s expression softened, as if he realized just how cruel his words had been. But the apology you desperately needed never came. He just stood there, silent and distant, his eyes refusing to meet yours, the coldness in his gaze now replaced by a hollow emptiness that only deepened your pain.

Feeling utterly betrayed, you turned away, your vision blurred by tears. Each step you took felt heavier than the last, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a physical burden. The person you thought would always have your back had just torn you apart.

In a moment of despair, you tossed your journal into the nearest trash bin. The hollow thud it made echoed in your ears, a haunting reminder of how irrevocably your trust had been shattered. It didn’t matter if the world saw your deepest thoughts; the one you trusted the most had already broken your heart.

Yunho watched in stunned silence as you turned away, your shoulders trembling with the weight of your emotions. He had never seen you like this—so broken, so hurt. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut, leaving him breathless, but still, he remained frozen, helpless to do anything as you retreated further into the night.

Then he heard it. The hollow thud of the journal hitting the bottom of the bin echoed in the night air. It was a sound that would haunt him for years to come—a sound that marked the moment everything between you changed. Yunho stood there, staring at the trash bin long after you had disappeared from his view.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he forced himself to take a step forward. His hands shook as he approached the bin, and he felt a lump form in his throat as he looked down at your journal, lying there among the discarded remnants of the day. Without thinking, he reached in and retrieved it, tucking it protectively into his side.

He sank onto a nearby bench, the cold metal seeping through his clothes, but he barely noticed. The night was quiet, save for the distant hum of the city, and the stars above seemed indifferent to his suffering.

Yunho cradled the journal to his chest, feeling the weight of its significance. This wasn’t just a collection of pages; it was a piece of your heart that he had let Sungjae, with his sharp words and cruelty, tear it apart.

Now, all that was left were the remnants of what once was, and the haunting realization that he had played a part in its destruction.

ii >>

taglist: @babymbbatinygirl

#ateez #ateez fanfic #jeong yunho #ateez yunho #yunho x reader #yunho x you #ateez fic #modern au #ateez au #magic au #yunho #ateez imagines #yunho angst #forget me not #supernatural au

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