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floresierss · 2 months ago

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ೃ⁀➷ JUST FOR ME - hong seunghan x reader

WORD COUNT : 1.6k

TAGS 🏷️ : fluff, slow burn, university setting

AUTHORS NOTE : hello i’m alive, i’ll try to regularly post, i took a break and i hope you can see the improvement in my writing skills!! i have something very special coming up soon so look out for that,, feel free to send any asks or questions! :3. anyways this is pretty much based off of ‘just for me’ by pinkpantheress, enjoy!

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7:45 AM

The SMU campus was alive with its usual morning chaos: students bustling to class, bikes weaving through the crowds, and the sun casting a soft golden glow over the quad. You adjusted your bag strap, taking a careful sip of your coffee as you made your way across campus.

As you passed the library, your mind wandered to Seunghan. You’d seen him yesterday in the library, laughing with his friends—Sungchan, Shotaro, Sohee, Eunseok, Anton, and Wonbin. His smile was bright and genuine, lighting up the space around him, and for a moment, you’d been so caught up in the sound of his laughter that you forgot where you were.

You never spoke to him. Why would he notice you? He was always surrounded by his friends, laughing and chatting with such ease. Yet, something about him lingered in your thoughts, and before you knew it, you were daydreaming about what it would be like to have one of those easy conversations with him.

“My diary’s full of your name on every page,” you muttered under your breath, your heart fluttering at the thought. It wasn��t something you liked to admit, but Seunghan had found his way into your daydreams far too often recently.

10:30 AM

The library was a haven of peace during the mid-morning hours. You sat by the large windows, your laptop open and your notebook beside it, though your attention was far from the research paper you were supposed to be working on. You had no choice but to stare at the empty page before you.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, but your thoughts were elsewhere. The campus newsletter was still open on your screen from earlier. You had barely paid attention to it, but something caught your eye now—Spring Music Festival Lineup Announced!

Seunghan’s band. Riize.

A slow smile crept across your face as you clicked the link, scanning the details about the lineup. You’d heard Seunghan mention his band in passing during class. He’d joked about how they were still working on their setlist, but you had never imagined they would perform at such a major event.

You were practically buzzing with excitement. The idea of hearing him perform live, of seeing him do what he loved, made your heart race.

“I’ll try and try again—one day, you’ll see,” you whispered to yourself, your fingers typing the RSVP link for the event without a second thought.

12:30 PM

You hadn’t expected to see Seunghan on your way out of the library, but there he was, standing by the door. His bag was slung casually over his shoulder, and he was speaking to Sungchan and Eunseok, laughing in that easy way of his.

You hesitated for a moment, your heart picking up speed. Would he even remember you from that brief conversation last week? Probably not. You’d barely exchanged a few words, and you were sure it wasn’t anything special.

But then, to your surprise, Seunghan’s gaze found yours. He smiled, and the moment felt like it stretched in time.

“Hey, are you heading to class?” he asked, his voice light.

“Uh, yeah,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Music theory.”

“Me too,” he said with a grin. “Mind if I walk with you?”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Sure,” you said, trying to sound casual.

You both started walking toward the music building.

“I’ve never seen you around much,” he said, after a beat. “Are you new to this class?”

You nodded, feeling the butterflies stir in your stomach. “Yeah, I transferred here last semester.”

“Cool,” he said, his tone genuine. “How are you liking it?”

“It’s… challenging,” you said, smiling. “But in a good way. I didn’t think it would be so intense.”

Seunghan nodded. “Yeah, I get that. I almost didn’t make it through last semester myself.” He laughed lightly. “But you’ll get the hang of it. And if you ever need help with anything—music-related, of course—I’m happy to help.”

You smiled, trying to hide the rush of warmth in your chest. “Thanks. That’s really nice of you.”

“So, you’ve got the Spring Music Festival on your radar, right?” Seunghan asked after a few moments.

You blinked, surprised. “Yeah, actually, I just RSVP’d this morning.”

His smile grew wider. “Great! I’m really excited for it. It’ll be our first big performance as Riize.”

You nodded enthusiastically. “I’m sure it’s going to be amazing.”

“Thanks,” Seunghan said, looking at you with a soft smile. “It means a lot.”

As you walked into the building together, you couldn’t help but feel a little more hopeful than usual. Maybe this was the beginning of something. You didn’t know what, but there was a connection—however small—that had been formed, and it made your heart race in a way you couldn’t explain.

4:03 PM

The campus café was bustling with students, the smell of coffee filling the air as you sat at your usual spot in the corner, trying to focus on your song. Your notebook was open in front of you, but your mind wandered as it always did when Seunghan was involved.

It had been hours since your brief conversation, but you kept replaying it over and over in your head. The sound of his voice, the way he smiled at you—everything about it felt so effortless.

You sighed, tapping your pen against the table, trying to push the thoughts aside.

That was when Seunghan walked in, his familiar face lighting up when he saw you.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice warm. “Mind if I sit here? It’s packed.”

“Of course,” you said, your heart skipping a beat as he pulled out a chair and sat across from you.

He leaned back, glancing at your notebook. “What are you working on?”

You hesitated, unsure how much to share. “Just… a song,” you said, your cheeks turning warm. “It’s nothing special, though.”

Seunghan raised an eyebrow. “I don’t believe that for a second.”

Your heart raced, but you smiled. “It’s just a work in progress.”

He grinned. “Well, I’d love to hear it sometime. You know, if you’re comfortable with that.”

You met his gaze, feeling a warmth spread through you. “Maybe.”

7:00 PM

You had just finished dinner when you received a message from Seunghan. It was a text asking if you were still going to the Spring Music Festival.

“Yes, definitely! I’m really looking forward to it.” You quickly typed back.

“Awesome. Maybe we can meet up after the show?”

Your fingers hesitated above your phone as your heart raced. Meet up? You quickly typed back: “Sure, I’d love that.”

As soon as you hit send, you felt a flutter in your chest. What was happening?

9:15 PM

The small concert hall was packed with excited students, all eagerly waiting for the Spring Music Festival to begin. You had found a seat in the middle of the crowd, your nerves growing with each passing second.

When the lights dimmed, the crowd went wild. The stage lit up, and there they were—Riize. Seunghan was front and center, his black hoodie a contrast to the colorful lights flashing behind him.

His eyes scanned the crowd briefly, and for a brief moment, it felt like his gaze landed on you. You froze, your heart thudding in your chest.

The band started playing, and the crowd erupted into cheers. The music filled the air, each note making your heart beat faster. Seunghan’s voice was smooth and rich, carrying through the auditorium with ease. He was in his element, effortlessly commanding the stage.

It was hard to focus on anything else as you watched him perform. His smile, his energy—it was magnetic. You couldn’t help but admire him more with each passing song.

11:00 PM

As the performance ended, the crowd roared with applause. You stood with the rest of the audience, clapping and cheering for Riize.

When the band left the stage, you quickly pulled out your phone to check for a message from Seunghan.

seunghan - Hey, want to meet up after the show? :p.

Your heart raced as you typed back:

y/n - absolutely 🫡

A few minutes later, you saw him walk backstage, looking exhausted but happy. Your eyes followed him for a moment before you made your way outside.

Seunghan was standing near the side exit, waiting for you. His smile made your heart do a little flip as he waved you over.

“Hey!” he greeted, his voice still buzzing with excitement from the show. “That was amazing, right?”

You nodded enthusiastically. “You were incredible.”

Seunghan chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “Thanks. It means a lot.”

“Of course,” you said softly. “You really have something special.”

“Maybe,” he said, his tone softening. “But it’s more fun with people like you around.”

The moment felt electric, as if the world had narrowed to just the two of you. Your heart raced, and for the first time in a while, you felt truly seen.

1:00 AM

You returned to your dorm, your head spinning from the night’s events. You sat at your desk, staring at the lyrics you had written earlier.

“When you wipe your tears, do you wipe them just for me?” you whispered, thinking back to Seunghan’s smile, his kindness, and the way he had looked at you.

You smiled, closing your notebook and settling into bed, drifting off to sleep with thoughts of Seunghan still swirling in your mind.

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eunseoksimp · 4 months ago

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Fractured ; Hong Seunghan

Pairings: Situationship! Hong Seunghan x Fem! Reader

Genre: Angst

Description: in the shadows of a love that was never meant to be, you find yourself entangled with seunghan—a charming enigma who keeps his heart locked away. as desire clashes with emotional distance, the truth emerges: he cannot give you what you crave. torn between longing and acceptance, you grapple with the haunting realization that some loves are destined to remain unfulfilled, leaving you to navigate the painful aftermath of a love that was always out of reach.

Warnings: none

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

the air is heavy tonight, thick with unspoken words that hang between you like ghosts, reminders of everything he never says. outside, the city hums, cars passing, the distant sound of laughter creeping through the open window. but in this room, there’s only silence—dense, suffocating, and louder than anything else.

seunghan lies beside you, his body warm against yours, but there’s a coldness that you can’t shake. you wonder how he manages it—how he can be so close and still feel so far away, like a shadow slipping through your fingers.

you turn your head, gaze tracing the sharp line of his jaw, the way the faint light catches on his skin. he’s beautiful. god, he’s beautiful. but there’s something almost cruel in that beauty, like a dream you can’t hold onto.

your hand drifts to the space between you, fingers hesitating before they touch his. he doesn’t move, doesn’t pull away, but he doesn’t reach for you either. that’s the thing with seunghan—he’s never cruel outright. he never says anything that cuts too deep. he just... drifts. floats in and out of your life like a passing storm, and you’re always left behind, waiting for the rain to fall again.

you’ve been here before, in this bed, in this room, with him. and every time, it feels like you’re getting closer to something—something real, something more. but then he pulls away. maybe not physically, not always, but emotionally. he never gives you more than the barest touch, the faintest hint of something that could be called affection. and yet, here you are again, lying next to him, wanting more.

the scent of him—faint cologne mixed with something deeper, something uniquely him—fills your lungs, intoxicating and dizzying. it’s familiar, yet it feels like a warning, a reminder that this, whatever this is, will never be enough. you inhale deeply, trying to hold onto it, as if somehow it’ll anchor you to him. as if the smell of him can make him stay.

but it never does.

you can hear his steady breathing, slow and even, and it should comfort you. but instead, it just makes the emptiness more pronounced. you want to reach into his chest, pull out whatever it is that keeps him so distant, so untouchable. you want to know if there’s anything in there at all, anything that can love you back the way you love him. or if it’s just a hollow space, one you’ve been trying to fill with your longing, your desire.

you close your eyes, frustration coiling tightly inside you, like a vine wrapping around your ribcage, squeezing, suffocating. it’s not fair. it’s not fair that he can make you feel so much when he seems to feel nothing at all. you turn on your side, facing him, watching the rise and fall of his chest. in the low light, he looks peaceful. like he has no idea of the storm raging inside you. like he doesn’t even care.

and maybe he doesn’t.

"seunghan," you whisper, your voice barely audible. his name on your tongue feels fragile, like a secret you shouldn’t speak aloud. he stirs, but doesn’t open his eyes. for a moment, you consider not saying anything more. maybe it’s better this way—to keep pretending, to keep living in the illusion of what you have. but something in you snaps, a quiet desperation that’s been building for too long.

"what are we?" your voice is louder this time, enough to break the silence.

his eyes flutter open, and for a second, you think you see something—something real. but it’s gone just as quickly, replaced by that familiar, unreadable mask he wears so well.

he doesn’t answer right away. he never does. instead, he stretches, his body shifting closer to yours, his arm lazily draping over your waist. it’s automatic, practiced. like he’s done this a thousand times with a thousand different people. and maybe he has.

"does it matter?" he asks, his voice low, thick with sleep but also with something else. indifference. it’s the indifference that stings the most, the casual dismissal of something that means everything to you.

your heart clenches, the weight of his words pressing down on your chest.

"it matters to me," you say, trying to keep your voice steady. but there’s a tremble there, a vulnerability you wish you could hide. he shifts again, finally meeting your gaze, his dark eyes staring into yours like he’s searching for something. you don’t know what he’s looking for, but you’re afraid he won’t find it.

"don’t think so much," he says softly, brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

it’s such a small, intimate gesture, but coming from him, it feels like a slap. like he’s placating you, giving you just enough to keep you hanging on, but never enough to satisfy the ache inside you.

"just... be here. with me."

you want to scream. you want to push him away, to demand more, to force him to see you. to really see you. but you don’t. because deep down, you know the truth. you know that if you push too hard, if you ask for too much, he’ll disappear. and that thought—that fear of losing even the small piece of him you have—keeps you quiet.

so you stay. you let him pull you closer, let his lips press softly against your forehead. you let him give you just enough to make you feel like maybe, just maybe, this time will be different.

but it never is.

you still remember the first time you saw him. it was at a party—one of those overcrowded, dimly lit gatherings where faces blur together and conversations get lost in the thrum of music. you weren’t looking for anyone that night, weren’t even in the mood to be there, but your friends had dragged you out. they said it would be fun. they said you needed to stop hiding, to get back out there.

and then, you saw him.

he stood out from the crowd in that effortless way some people do—like the light caught him differently, like the world shifted slightly to accommodate his presence. he wasn’t doing anything special, just leaning against a wall, drink in hand, talking to someone you didn’t know. but there was something about him. something in the way he held himself, the way his gaze swept over the room, indifferent but all-seeing. like nothing could touch him. like he was above it all.

you couldn’t stop looking at him. your friends noticed, nudged you, teased you about the way your eyes kept drifting in his direction. they pushed you toward him, told you to go say hi, but you hesitated. what would someone like him even want with you?

but then, as if he felt your gaze on him, he looked up. and in that moment, everything else disappeared. the room, the music, the people—it all faded away, and there was only him, staring at you with those dark, unreadable eyes. he didn’t smile, didn’t gesture for you to come over. he just watched you, as if he were deciding something, as if he were weighing whether you were worth his time.

and somehow, you ended up in front of him.

“hey,” you said, your voice more nervous than you’d intended. he looked you up and down, his expression cool, almost bored. but there was something in his gaze that made your heart race, made you feel like he could see right through you.

“hey,” he replied, his voice smooth, low. it sent a shiver down your spine.

you don’t remember much of the conversation that followed. only that his words were like a current pulling you in, drawing you closer, making you feel like you were the only one in the room. and by the end of the night, you were walking home with him, his arm slung casually over your shoulders, your heart pounding with something you couldn’t quite name.

he wasn’t like anyone you’d ever met before. he was charming, yes, but not in the way most people were. he didn’t try too hard. he didn’t need to. there was something magnetic about him, something that made people want to be around him, made them crave his attention. and when he gave it to you, even for a moment, it felt like the world stopped spinning.

but that was the problem, wasn’t it? it was never just you. there were always others. even in those early days, when things between you were new, fresh, and exciting, there was always a part of him that stayed locked away. untouchable. he gave you just enough to keep you coming back, just enough to make you feel special.

but never enough to make you feel secure.

it started with little things. the way he’d disappear for days, only to reappear with a casual text like nothing had happened. the way he’d make plans with you, then cancel at the last minute because something "came up." the way his phone would buzz constantly when you were together, and he’d never tell you who was on the other end.

you tried to ignore it at first. tried to convince yourself that this was just how things were with him—that he was busy, that he had a life outside of you. but deep down, you knew. you always knew that you were never going to be his priority.

still, you stayed. because when he was with you—really with you—it felt like the world could fall apart, and it wouldn’t matter. when he touched you, when he kissed you, when he whispered your name in the quiet of the night, it felt like you were the only thing that mattered to him. and you lived for those moments. you clung to them, even as the distance between you grew wider.

the thing is, you don’t even know when it happened—when you went from being someone he saw casually to someone who cared too much. it crept up on you slowly, like the tide, until one day, you realized you were drowning.

you fell for him in pieces. it wasn’t just the way he looked at you, or the way he touched you, though that was part of it. it was the way he made you feel, like you were special, like you were different from everyone else in his life. the way he could say so little and still make you feel so much. and that was his power, wasn’t it? he didn’t have to do much to make you fall. it was effortless. it was easy.

you told yourself it was just physical at first. that it didn’t matter if he wasn’t emotionally available. that you didn’t need anything more from him. but somewhere along the line, you started to want more. you started to need more.

it was the nights, you think. those nights when he’d come over, his guard down just enough to let you glimpse the man beneath the surface. the man who wasn’t always so cold, so detached. the man who could be gentle, who could make you laugh, who could make you feel like maybe, just maybe, there was something more between you.

but those moments were fleeting. they never lasted. because as soon as the sun came up, as soon as the world crept back in, he was gone again. back to being the playboy, the heartbreaker, the guy who couldn’t be tied down. and you were left picking up the pieces, trying to figure out what, if anything, you meant to him.

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

the mornings are the worst. when the sun rises and the weight of the night lifts, seunghan always leaves. it’s like clockwork, the way he slips out of bed, his body already cold before you even open your eyes. you can hear him now, the quiet rustle of clothes being gathered, the sound of his phone vibrating against the table. and then, just like that, he’s gone.

you lie there, staring at the ceiling, the empty space beside you a glaring reminder of what you’ve become. a placeholder. something temporary, something that’s there to fill the silence, but never meant to last. the sheets still smell like him, and for a moment, you bury your face in them, inhaling deeply, trying to hold onto the remnants of him. but it’s fading. already, it’s fading.

you drag yourself out of bed, pulling on his t-shirt—another piece of him that doesn’t really belong to you. it’s too big, hangs loosely on your frame, but you wear it anyway. it’s pathetic, you know that. but you can’t help it.

he leaves, but he never takes everything. there’s always something left behind—a shirt, a jacket, a text that you stare at for too long. little breadcrumbs that lead you back to him, no matter how hard you try to walk away.

you make your way to the kitchen, every step feeling heavier than the last. the apartment is quiet, the only sound the ticking of the clock on the wall. you glance at it. 7:45 am. he’s probably already gone to wherever it is he goes when he’s not with you. you never ask, and he never tells.

it’s better that way, you tell yourself. less messy. less real.

but is it? is it really?

you sink into a chair, hands gripping the edge of the table as if holding on to something solid will keep you from unraveling completely. your mind races, going over the same thoughts, the same questions that have haunted you for months.

what are you to him? does he think of you when he’s gone, or are you just another fleeting moment in his life? a moment that, eventually, he’ll forget.

you hate how much you want him. how much you need him. it’s not just the physical—the way his body feels against yours, the way he makes you forget everything else when he’s touching you. it’s more than that.

it’s the quiet moments, the ones where you catch a glimpse of something deeper in him, something raw, something real. but those moments are rare, and they’re always followed by the inevitable distance, the emotional wall he builds up between you.

it’s like trying to hold onto smoke, the way he slips through your fingers no matter how tightly you try to grasp him.

you take a deep breath, the weight of your thoughts pressing down on you like a heavy fog. it’s exhausting, this constant cycle of wanting and not having, of hoping and being let down. and yet, you can’t bring yourself to walk away. not yet. because what if—what if this time, he stays? what if this time, he gives you more?

you hate yourself for thinking that way. you know it’s foolish, know that seunghan is who he is. he’s not going to change. but there’s a part of you—a small, desperate part—that clings to the hope that maybe, just maybe, he will.

you sigh, standing up slowly from the table, the creak of the wooden floor loud in the silence of your apartment. everything feels heavier in the mornings after seunghan leaves, like the day itself is pulling you down, dragging you into that same space where his absence lingers. your hands shake slightly as you grab the cold cup of coffee you’d made earlier. you take a sip, but the bitterness only deepens the hollow ache in your chest. the cup clinks softly as you set it down, forgotten.

it’s always like this, isn’t it? you replay every word, every glance, trying to find meaning in the way he touches you, the way he looks at you—desperately searching for proof that you mean more to him than just another fleeting thing. but each time, the evidence feels thin, like water slipping through your fingers.

still, you stay. you let yourself believe that maybe today will be different. maybe tonight, when he comes back, he’ll look at you with something more than casual affection. something real, something deep. maybe he’ll stay a little longer, hold you a little tighter, and the void inside him will fill.

but it never happens. and every time he leaves, you’re left trying to rebuild yourself from the wreckage, piecing together fragments of your heart that are growing more fragile by the day.

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

the sun hangs low in the sky, dipping below the horizon, casting the world in soft shades of pink and gold. twilight. the time when things that are normally clear start to blur, and everything feels uncertain, suspended between light and dark.

it’s been hours since seunghan left, and you haven’t heard from him. you wonder where he is—who he’s with. the thought of him with someone else gnaws at you, the sharp edges of jealousy scraping against your skin. you try to push it away, tell yourself that you have no right to feel this way, but the truth is, you do. you want to be the one he chooses. the one who matters. but you know better than to expect that from him.

your phone buzzes on the table, and your heart jumps, fingers trembling as you grab it. it’s him. a simple text, as casual as ever.

'might come over tonight. don’t wait up'

the words feel like a blow. not because they’re unexpected—this is how it always goes with him—but because they’re so indifferent. it’s like you’re a convenience, something he can drop in and out of when it suits him. you hate how much those words sting, how much power he has over you with just a few careless taps on a screen.

you don’t reply. you don’t know what to say that wouldn’t sound pathetic or desperate, so you just sit there, staring at the screen, your mind racing with thoughts you can’t control.

what would happen if you didn’t open the door when he showed up tonight? if you finally stood your ground, told him you couldn’t do this anymore? would he even care? or would he just move on to someone else, someone who doesn’t ask for more?

hours pass, and the apartment grows darker. you sit by the window, watching the city’s lights flicker on one by one, your mind restless, your heart heavy. you think of all the times seunghan has slipped in and out of your life, leaving behind traces of himself but never enough to hold onto.

the knock on the door comes later than expected. it's past midnight, and you’ve been sitting in the silence, the tension in your body building with every passing hour. your heart races as you approach the door, your hand hovering over the handle for a moment too long. part of you wants to lock it, to let him stay on the other side, shut out from your life, just as emotionally distant as he’s always been.

but you can’t. you never can.

you open the door, and there he is—leaning against the frame, his hair slightly tousled, eyes dark and unreadable as they meet yours. he steps inside without waiting for an invitation, his presence immediately filling the space. there’s something intoxicating about him, the way he moves, the way he looks at you. it’s maddening, how easily he commands your attention, your desire.

he doesn’t say anything as he walks past you, heading toward the living room like it’s his own place. like he belongs here. and maybe he does, in a way that makes you feel sick to your stomach. because as much as you want him to belong to you, you know deep down that you’ll never belong to him.

you follow him, your heart in your throat, trying to find the words that have been tangled in your chest for weeks—months, maybe. but when you see him, sprawled out on your couch, one arm resting casually across the back, you hesitate. he looks so comfortable, so at ease, like nothing in the world could ever touch him. and maybe nothing ever does.

“you didn’t have to come,” you say, your voice quieter than you intended. it’s not an accusation, but it’s not welcoming either. it’s somewhere in between, a space that mirrors the one you’ve been living in with him for too long.

he glances at you, one eyebrow raised in mild curiosity, but there’s no real emotion there.

“you didn’t have to wait up,” he replies easily, his voice smooth, effortless. he’s always like this—cool, detached, as if nothing really matters. and you hate how much that gets under your skin.

“i wasn’t waiting,” you lie, your arms crossing over your chest defensively. he smirks, and it makes something twist inside you, because you know he can see right through you. he always can.

“okay,” he says, like he doesn’t believe you, but also like he doesn’t really care. and maybe he doesn’t. you wonder if he ever did.

you sit down across from him, the space between you feeling wider than the room itself. you want to say something—anything—that will make him understand how much this is tearing you apart. but the words feel stuck, lodged deep in your throat, suffocating you.

“seunghan,” you start, your voice barely above a whisper. he looks at you then, really looks at you, and for a moment, you think you see something in his eyes. something soft, something vulnerable. but it’s gone in an instant, replaced by that same indifferent mask he always wears.

“what’s wrong?” he asks, his tone casual, as if the answer doesn’t really matter to him. and maybe it doesn’t. but to you, it feels like everything. everything you’ve been holding in, all the pain and frustration and longing, it’s all bubbling up to the surface now, and you don’t know how to keep it inside any longer.

“i can’t keep doing this,” you say, your voice trembling. “i can’t keep pretending that this—whatever this is—is enough for me.”

there’s a long pause, the weight of your words hanging in the air between you like a storm about to break. seunghan’s expression doesn’t change, but you can see the tension in his posture, the way his jaw tightens slightly, the way his fingers twitch.

“what do you want from me?” he asks, and there’s something almost dangerous in his voice now. it’s not loud, not angry, but there’s an edge to it, like he’s warning you not to push too far.

“i want more,” you say, the words spilling out before you can stop them.

“i want to know that i mean something to you. that i’m not just another person you run to when you’re bored or lonely. i want to feel like you care about me, like you actually see me.”

he stares at you for a long moment, his eyes unreadable, his expression cold. and then he laughs—a soft, bitter sound that makes your heart sink.

“you think this is about you?” he asks, his voice sharp now, cutting through the air like a knife. “this was never about you.”

his words hit you like a punch to the gut, knocking the breath out of your lungs. you try to speak, try to make sense of what he’s saying, but all you can do is stare at him, your mind reeling.

“you wanted more? i never promised you that,” he continues, his voice cold, detached.

“you knew what this was from the beginning. you knew i wasn’t looking for anything serious. so don’t stand there and act like i owe you something.”

tears sting at the corners of your eyes, but you blink them back, refusing to let them fall. you won’t let him see how much he’s hurt you. not again.

“i never asked for much,” you say, your voice shaking with the effort to stay calm. “i just wanted you to care. even a little.”

he sighs, running a hand through his hair, frustration clear on his face.

“i do care,” he says, but the words feel hollow, empty. “but not in the way you want me to. and i’m not going to change that just because you decided you wanted more.”

his words are a death sentence. final, unyielding. you realize, with a sinking feeling, that this is it. this is the moment you’ve been avoiding, the truth you’ve been running from. he will never be what you need him to be. he will never give you the love you so desperately crave.

and yet, even now, you still want him. despite everything, despite the pain and the rejection and the cold, unfeeling way he’s looking at you right now—you still want him.

you can’t breathe. the weight of the realization presses down on you, suffocating, crushing. your mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, your heart pounding so hard it feels like it might break through your chest. you try to speak, to say something that will break this horrible, suffocating silence, but the words are caught in your throat.

seunghan stands up, running a hand through his hair, exasperation clear in his every movement. he paces in front of you, like he can’t quite stand to sit still in this moment, like the very thought of being here, with you, in this conversation, is too much for him.

"you always do this," he mutters, more to himself than to you. "you always want more. i told you from the start, i’m not that guy. i’m not going to be what you want me to be."

his voice cuts through the air like a blade, sharp and cruel, and you flinch, the pain in your chest growing deeper with every word he says.

“you don’t understand,” you say, your voice quiet but firm.

“you don’t know what it’s like to be in love with someone who keeps you at arm’s length. someone who makes you feel like you’re always reaching for something you can never quite have.”

he stops pacing, turning to look at you, his eyes dark and piercing.

“i never asked you to fall in love with me,” he says, and his words are like a slap in the face. they knock the wind out of you, make your heart lurch in your chest.

you swallow hard, trying to keep your voice steady.

“i know you didn’t. but it happened anyway. and now i don’t know how to stop.”

there’s a long silence. the kind that feels like it could break you if it stretches on too long. seunghan’s eyes are fixed on you, but there’s no warmth there. no softness. just that same cold detachment that has always kept you at a distance.

“i told you from the beginning,” he says, his voice low, almost tired. “i’m not that guy. i’m not the one you settle down with. you knew that.”

“i did,” you admit, the words bitter on your tongue.

“but i thought—i thought maybe, if i stayed long enough, if i was patient enough, you’d change. i thought maybe you’d realize that i’m not like the others. that i’m worth it.”

his expression doesn’t change, but you can see the way his jaw tightens, the way his fingers clench into fists at his sides.

“i never asked you to wait for me,” he says, his voice cold. “i never promised you anything.”

“no, you didn’t,” you say, tears stinging your eyes.

“but you let me believe it, didn’t you? you gave me just enough to keep me hanging on, just enough to make me think that maybe, one day, you’d give me more.”

his gaze flickers, just for a moment, and you think you see something—regret, maybe. but it’s gone as quickly as it came.

“you’re right,” he says finally, his voice softer now, but no less cutting.

“i gave you just enough. because it was easy. because i didn’t have to try. and maybe that was selfish. but i never meant to hurt you.”

you laugh, but there’s no humor in it. only bitterness, only the sharp edge of a broken heart.

“well, you did.”

the silence that follows is unbearable, thick with everything you’ve never said and everything he’ll never admit. you can feel your chest tightening, your throat closing up, as the weight of the truth finally settles in.

he will never be what you need him to be. he will never give you the love you want, the love you deserve. and staying here, with him, hoping for something more, is only going to tear you apart.

seunghan doesn’t say anything for what feels like an eternity. the silence between you is a living thing, thick and suffocating, curling around your throat, squeezing. he glances at the door, and you feel it—the moment he decides to leave. it’s a subtle shift, a quiet resignation in the way his shoulders drop, the way his gaze flickers past you, like he’s already somewhere else. somewhere far from here. far from you.

seunghan’s gaze falls to the floor when he notices your staring, his fingers flexing and curling as if searching for something to hold on to—some excuse to stay. but then his eyes lift, meeting yours, and they are colder than you’ve ever seen. it’s like watching a storm gather, violent and unyielding, dark clouds rolling in behind the calm.

“i think…” his voice is low, hesitant at first, like he’s wrestling with the words that are about to rip you apart. “…we should stop this.”

you feel your stomach drop, the floor tilting beneath you as if the whole world is crumbling in slow motion. but he isn’t finished.

“we can’t keep pretending,” he continues, his voice growing steadier, harder, as if he’s steeling himself against your reaction, against the break that’s about to come.

“there’s no future where i can give you what you want.”

his words slice through the room like the snap of a noose tightening. the finality of it wraps around your chest, choking off your breath. he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t soften, just stands there—stone-cold, unreachable, and as distant as the sky on the darkest night.

you hear it in his tone, feel the sharp, unforgiving truth of it. he’s already gone, already on the other side of this, and you’re left standing in the wreckage of a love that never really existed, staring into the void where your hope used to be.

his footsteps echo through the quiet room, slow and deliberate, as if even the act of leaving costs him nothing. you watch him move toward the door, your heart pounding in your chest like it’s trying to escape, like it can’t bear to stay inside you if he walks out. you want to scream, to beg him to turn around, to stay, but the words lodge in your throat, trapped beneath the weight of your pride and your pain.

he pauses with his hand on the doorknob, and for a brief, agonizing second, you think maybe—just maybe—he’ll turn around. maybe he’ll say something that will pull you back from the edge, something that will make this hurt less. but when he speaks, his voice is cold, distant.

“this was always going to end like this,” he says softly, like he’s stating a fact, like this is something you should’ve known all along.

his words hit you like ice water, sharp and numbing, and you feel something inside you splinter, a deep crack running through the foundation of everything you’ve held on to. you’ve known, somewhere deep down, that this was how it would end. you’ve always known. but hearing him say it, hearing him confirm it—it breaks you in a way you didn’t expect.

seunghan opens the door, the cool air from outside rushing in, swirling around you, making you shiver. he doesn’t look back. not once. the door closes behind him with a soft click, and just like that, he’s gone.

it feels like the world has dropped out from beneath you. like the air has been sucked out of the room, leaving you gasping, grasping at nothing. the silence is deafening, pressing in on all sides, filling the empty space where he stood only moments ago.

you collapse onto the couch, the fabric rough against your skin, but you barely notice. all you feel is the hollow ache in your chest, the sharp, relentless throb of a heart that’s been broken in a way that can’t be fixed. it’s as if every piece of you has been unraveled, pulled apart at the seams, leaving you exposed, raw, and bleeding.

the tears come slowly at first, hot and silent, sliding down your cheeks in rivers that you can’t stop, won’t stop. your breath catches in your throat, shallow and uneven, and soon the sobs break free, shaking your entire body. it’s like every ounce of pain you’ve been holding back, every moment of doubt, every stolen glance, every night spent waiting for something that was never going to come—they all crash down on you at once, a tidal wave of grief you can’t escape.

your hands clutch the cushions beneath you, your nails digging into the fabric as if holding on to something—anything—could stop the flood inside you. but there’s no stopping it. it’s everywhere now, filling every corner of the room, every inch of your body, this overwhelming, unbearable sense of loss.

because he wasn’t yours to lose, was he? he was never yours. you were reaching for something that was never within your grasp, chasing after the ghost of a love that only existed in your mind. and now, you’re left with nothing. nothing but the echoes of his footsteps fading into the night, the empty space where he once stood, the shattered pieces of your heart scattered at your feet.

the room feels colder without him, like the warmth he brought with him has seeped out the door, leaving you to drown in the chill of his absence. the air tastes different, bitter, laced with regret and all the words you should have said, all the ways you should have protected yourself from this. from him.

but you didn’t. you let yourself fall, let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, you could be the one to make him stay. and now you’re paying the price, your heart a bruised, broken thing, barely beating in the wake of his departure.

time stretches out in front of you, an endless, aching expanse. the night presses in, thick and suffocating, wrapping itself around you like a shroud. you’re alone now. really, truly alone. and it hurts. god, it hurts in ways you didn’t know were possible. in ways that make you wonder how you’ll ever breathe again, how you’ll ever pull yourself out of this dark, suffocating pit of longing and pain.

you bury your face in your hands, your shoulders shaking with the force of your sobs. the world outside moves on without you, indifferent to the way your heart is breaking, the way you’re shattering into a thousand pieces.

but inside, everything is still. frozen. broken.

and you wonder, as the tears keep falling, as the pain keeps pulsing through you in waves, how you ever thought you could love someone like seunghan. how you ever thought that a love so cold, so distant, could ever be enough. because it wasn’t. it was never enough.

and now, you’re left to pick up the pieces of a heart that was never whole to begin with. a heart that loved someone who was never yours to love.

and maybe, just maybe, that’s the worst kind of heartbreak there is.

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hongssimi · 3 months ago

Text

don't wanna cry // hong seunghan

ᝰ synopsis .ᐟ seunghan didn't know how loved he was. he thought leaving was for the better. if only he had realised earlier, would things have changed?

ᝰ pairing .ᐟ hong seunghan x those who love him

ᝰ genre .ᐟ angst

ᝰ word count .ᐟ 1.4k+

ᝰ warning .ᐟ mentions of events from october 11th to october 13th including funeral wreaths, hate, bullying, and death threats

ᝰ author's note .ᐟ got on tiktok and got depressed, again. so i guess… here's an angsty, sad, and traumatic one shot that would probably make you cry. song recommendation while reading, seventeen's don't wanna cry.

i think it's better for the team if i leave.

seunghan didn't expect the amount of funeral wreaths left for him in front of his company's doorstep. piles, after piles, after piles of them. each more hurtful than the next.

"riize is 6"

"hong seunghan out"

"freeloader, get lost!"

"i respectfully pray for the peace of mind for the deceased"

respect? where was the respect in question? they were treating him as dead. a perfectly alive and breathing 21-year-old who had just celebrated his birthday just days prior. what had he done so bad to be treated like this?

his head was feeling so complicated. where exactly did he go wrong? he had discussed with the company and the members. they seemed to be in support of him coming back, despite the risks of losing the current fanbase that was built around the six members while he was on hiatus.

seunghan used to hear the members tell him stories in the dorms about their fans holding up banners with his face or slogans with the phrase "riize is seven". they would excitedly text him after performing, telling him that he shouldn't give up. everyone wanted him back. but he didn't believe them. he knew it was just make him feel better. or he thought he did.

walking away from the wreaths, the black-hooded boy headed towards his favourite space. his advertisement board at seoul forest station. a place of comfort. he remembered the very first time he had his face on the board was when he debuted. and then it appeared again in january. since then, it was always his face at that specific location in the station. fans nicknamed the location "seunghan's spot".

the last time he read the notes on the board, the words of support were so sweet. in those messages, fans really missed and cared for him. he was even approached by someone, giving him support and telling him to stay strong. that they would wait for him to come back.

seunghan's birthday board was fuller than ever. he almost couldn't see his face on the board. he just stood far away, staring at the countless amount of notes, feeling apologetic. seeing the backlash for the past two days, the company asked to meet with him, asking him if he was sure he wanted to stay.

seunghan wasn't sure why they asked him that. he was even more confused why they did nothing about the funeral wreaths outside the company. was it not illegal? he had so many thoughts, all left unanswered. where was the "family" that he thought there was, the reason to why he even decided to join this company?

seunghan was not a boy to be left alone. he was one to make rash decisions, and needed someone to hold him back. as an F, he needed his fellow F to empathize with him. he needed his Ts to ground him down that he should stay. but they weren't there.

all his bandmates could do was to post a thinkpiece on weverse, saying they convinced him to come back, in the midst of an overseas schedule. they thought long and hard about the decision and decided to risk it all. they were willing to get scolded for the post, willing to lose fans to be on stage again, but with him. but they got called liars, accused of having the post ghostwritten, words being put in their mouths that they never wanted him back.

seunghan felt guilty. the members never deserved the hate. they've achieved so much without him. he didn't want to ruin it by coming back. he put the members first, like the sweet boy he was.

he got in contact with the company. and that's when he realised he made a big mistake. hashtags were trending. boycotts were happening. protest trucks were driving in. in-person protests were held. international news were covering his story. he realised he was essentially coerced into leaving the team.

"no seunghan no riize"

"riize is seven"

"sm, why did you listen to the minority?"

"sm supports bullying"

"sm, where's the protection you said you would do?"

"sm, reveal the lawsuit processions. if you even did any, for the past 10 months."

there were much, much, more people anticipating his comeback. they were truly, supporting him. he never realised how much of a human rights issue the funeral wreaths were until it was pointed out. he never realised the company was all talk, no action. he was their artist, why didn't they post about filing lawsuits when they announced he came back?

seunghan realised his idea of the company's image being family was just extremely clouded. he finally understood what it meant when people said to never trust companies that market themselves as family.

at some point, at night, he was called to the company again. he was crossing the street, all covered up, when he saw someone with his photocard dangling on their bag. he lowered his cap, apologetically, knowing it was a fan who was probably hurt by him leaving. he didn't want to be recognised and hurt them further. he left quietly, heading into the company building.

he was told they would write up a notice about monitoring any slander written against him. until the notice was posted. did the company never wanted him back? how come his friends had ongoing lawsuits, but there was nothing in his notice? what about the past 10 months where people were saying just about anything? what about the person who lied about his ex-girlfriend being a minor? what about the person who invaded his privacy by leaking photos of his private life?

seunghan was honestly sick and tired of it all. he was always kind to everyone. hell, he was even kind to animals. he even bought a necklace to support a cause related to animals, even though he's afraid of all animals. what did he even do to deserve such treatment?

more projects came out. some were even writing public letters, making an e-book of letters for him. he read all of them. even those he couldn't understand. he just stared at the foreign words and smiled adoringly, knowing it was messages of good wishes for him.

some foreign fans even wrote in korean. some were in perfect korean while some were painfully obvious that it was translated by machine. seunghan tried his best to understand it all, and it was all so sweet.

"seunghan, i miss you"

"i miss you with rii7e"

"hani, i wish you stayed"

"seunghan-ie, i'm not crying so please come back"

"seunghan, come back before i steal sohee"

"seunghan, come back, let me lure you with crayon shin-chan merchandise"

some of the messages were truly hilarious. coping with sadness by being funny. he loved his fans. they were truly positive. their jokes made him smile.

"have you eaten? are you living well?"

"eat some rice, don't just eat bibimmyeon, okay?"

"are you doing well? i'm not doing so well, but i hope that at least you are"

"seunghan, we will always be proud of you. keep your head up"

"hani, don't apologise. you didn't do anything wrong."

"seunghan-ie, you were just a teenager who made some mistakes. we all have mistakes"

"seunghan, cheer up!"

"seunghan, we're always with you"

so many messages were concerned for him and his well-being. even though he knew that they weren't doing well either. they waited ten months and lost him just only after two days, without even getting to see his face.

one of the messages he read stuck to him, "i really want to cry, but if i cry now, i might not be able to see you at all. so i'll fight for you."

reading the messages just made him break down, and cry. guilt, apologetic, comforted, sorry, sad, happy... seunghan felt all kinds of emotions. he didn't want to cry, he wanted to pretend he was fine. but how was he supposed to be fine, when his fans were crying because their words of love weren't enough to make him stay?

he didn't know how to fix the problem. he didn't have much power. the last time seunghan came back, he was previously just on hiatus. this time, he had truly left the team. he wondered if he could even come back. at least to make briize — no, brii7e — happy? he just cried, cried, and cried. he didn't know how to make it a happy ending.

why didn't he hold on just a bit longer?

why couldn't he see the amount of support he had this whole time?

if he knew, would things have turned out differently?

why didn't i realise sooner?

✶⋆.˚꩜ AFTERTHOUGHTS .ᐟ˙⋆✶ i'm crying as i write this. seunghan, i miss you so bad. how are you? are you eating well? you are so strong. i'm sorry i couldn't do more to protect you. just know that i will always be proud of you, always. and so will all brii7e and hongjjanggus. we love and miss you so much.

✶⋆.˚꩜ PERMANENT RII7E TAGLIST .ᐟ˙⋆✶

#ssimi.sai #hong seunghan #seunghan #riize is seven #bring seunghan back #seunghan scenarios #seunghan imagine #riize imagines #riize scenarios #i miss rii7e #i miss seunghan

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