SO, UM Im Not Sure Why But My Draft For This Story Got Posted By Accident! A Few Of You Guys Reblogged

SO, UM 😭 I’m not sure why but my draft for this story got posted by accident! A few of you guys reblogged it, so if you did, can you please delete it and act shocked when I post the final version? Please? 😭

PERM TAGLIST: @agi-ppangx @sunnyrisee @jisunglyricist @nxtt2-u @nebugalaxy @bokk-minnie @tajannah-price1 @lixies-favorite-cookie

POST TAGLIST: @stascence @xxdwaekkaxx @raspberrii @joyofbebbanburg @drewsandsebastianswife @minholover1 @vangoghsear0 @theodorenottgf @chanshyunjin @cafffeineconnoisseur @villainstayy @qwonyoung23 @fawnoverdawn @sofix-hc7 @softkisshyunjin @madewithchildlabor (Still open!)

( 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐑 ): Release Date: September 10th

──── * ˚ ✦ ECHOES OF US ( stray kids )

❛ After a painful breakup, you and Jeongin struggle to maintain a civil front for your mutual friends, but when he accidentally calls you by your old pet name, unresolved emotions resurface, forcing you both to confront the lingering feelings between you.

𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐣𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧 + gender neutral reader ೯ ( 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 )

𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 10.5k~

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ This is sort of still a work in progress, but really it just means that I have to finish writing the ending of the final draft before finally moving on to proofreading. Since this is my first official long-fic (a story for a single member that's over 10K), I thought it might be fun to announce it now and see who's interested! This was anonymously requested! (Anon, I'm sorry it took me a hot minute to finally finish this, but I hope I made up for it with how long it ended up being 🫠) Reblogs for this teaser are always appreciated! Requests are currently open! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Mentions of sibling death and grief, very brief mention of a dysfunctional home, brief explanation of sibling death, Y/N's sibling has their own name, mentions of being abandoned, heartbreak, awkward re-encounter after almost a year, discussions on mental health, a whole lot of angst, comforting ending.

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ) ( 𝐭𝐢𝐩 𝐣𝐚𝐫 )

Want to be alerted when I post this? Let me know in the comments so I can tag you!

hi i’ve really enjoyed reading your work 🤗 can i make a request?

exes to lovers w/ jeongin where reader & him still try to have a good relationship & hang out w each other for the sake of their friend group but he kind of screws up by accidentally calling reader their pet name from when they were together?

(even better if it’s extra angsty🙂‍↕️)

Hey! Thank you so much for the request! I’m sorry it took me a hot minute to get it done, but I hope the length makes up for it 🥹 Please feel free to request again! ── ( 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐬 )

────* ˚ ✦ ECHOES OF US

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ) ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ) 12.6K

i’m crying your theme and formatting is ABSOLUTELY GORGEOUS (I hope you don’t mind if I borrow some ideas from your blog 😭💓)

THIS IS SO SWEET WHAT THE HECK TYSM 😭🫶 But no baby, I don’t mind you borrowing some ideas from me! Literally my own theme was inspired by so many different layouts and ideas until I finally created my own, so I totally get it!! Thank you for asking!

hiii i adored the caught in the act piece! all the situations seemed so organic and realistic, your writing is so good, share a crumb of talent with the rest of us pls 🤲🤲

(btw just wanted to let you know that in caught in the act you misspelled jeongins name in the title part of his section <33)

Hello! Thank you so much 🥹 Here are some crumbs, hold on 🫳✨

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR LETTING ME KNOW 😭 I promise I proofread it, but I guess I didn’t bother to check their names 💀

────* ˚ ✦ CAUGHT IN THE ACT ( stray kids )

❛ The reactions of each member of Stray Kids' Maknae line when they're caught kissing you by another member.

𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐬 + gender neutral reader ೯ ( 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 )

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.6k 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: 32 mins

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ This was honestly so much fun to write! My personal favorite has got to be Felix's piece :) Reblogs and feedbacks are always appreciated! Requests are currently open! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Getting caught kissing, established relationship for every member except for Felix, Reader is a brat in Seungmin's piece, Seungmin's part is also kinda suggestive but nothing too serious, let me know if I missed anything!

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ) ( 𝐭𝐢𝐩 𝐣𝐚𝐫 )

HYUNG LINE | MAKNAE LINE

한지성 ── HAN JISUNG.

The elevator chimed softly, announcing its arrival at the well-worn floor of your boyfriend’s apartment building. The sound, almost like an old friend’s greeting, blended with the soft rustle of takeout bags in your hands. Each step you took down the hallway was instinctive, as if your feet had memorized the path from countless visits. You mused that, at this point, you might as well be contributing to the rent, considering how often you wandered through these doors.

As you reached Jisung’s door, a sense of familiarity washed over you. The door, just as he’d assured you, was slightly ajar—a silent invitation into the cozy haven within. You gently nudged it open and slipped inside, the comfort of the space wrapping around you like an old, cherished blanket. 

With a practiced ease, you kicked off your shoes, the soft thud of their landing on the floor barely registering amidst the quiet. The scent of warm, delicious takeout, mingled with the faint aroma of Jisung’s cologne, filled the air as you made your way to the kitchen. You placed the bags atop the counter with a satisfied sigh, the familiar clink of containers and the gentle crinkle of paper marking the end of your journey and the beginning of another evening spent together.

“Honey, is that you?” Jisung’s voice, warm and familiar, drifted from the depths of his bedroom. The sound, gentle and inviting, coaxed a smile from your lips. You responded with a soft, affirming call, and set about unpacking the array of takeout food onto the kitchen counter, carefully sorting out the dinner you’d planned for Minho to enjoy later. The task, once mundane, felt infused with a sense of anticipation.

Yet, a curious feeling nudged at you. The curiosity won over practicality, and you decided to investigate the source of Jisung’s call. Leaving the neatly arranged containers behind, you approached his bedroom with soft footsteps, the hallway dimly illuminated by the subtle glow from the adjoining rooms. As you pushed open the door, a veil of darkness initially concealed the room’s contents.

You peered inside, eyes straining to adjust to the shadows. Slowly, shapes began to emerge from the obscurity. Jisung’s figure, snug and enveloped in the cocoon of his bed, came into view. His gaze, tender and filled with warmth, met yours through the gloom. The softness of his smile mirrored the affection in your own, as if sharing a silent, intimate conversation in the quiet of the room.

“Why aren’t you coming to eat?” you asked, your voice carrying a blend of playful curiosity and genuine concern, as you took in the serene sight of him waiting for you.

Jisung remained silent, his only response a slow, deliberate lift of his arm—a silent, yet eloquent invitation for you to join him. With a tender smile curling your lips, you moved toward him, feeling the comforting warmth of his presence. You sank into the plush embrace of his bed, a sigh escaping your lips as you settled beside him. He promptly draped the soft sheets over your body, their gentle weight providing a cocoon of warmth as he drew you closer, his arms encircling you with a sense of tender possessiveness.

In the dim, intimate glow of the room, you felt his breath, warm and soothing, as he nestled his face into the curve of your neck, a contented sigh escaping him. His closeness enveloped you in a cocoon of serene affection. You reached up, your fingers gently threading through his tousled hair, your touch both soothing and affectionate.

“Are you okay, my love?” you murmured, your voice a blend of concern and tenderness. Jisung’s response was a subtle nod, his eyes closing briefly as he savored the moment. 

“I’m just very tired,” he mumbled, his voice muffled and soft. “Spent the entire day with Chan and Changbin, working on some songs, and then we had dance rehearsal.” His words were nearly lost in the gentle hum of exhaustion that colored his tone. “Honestly, I feel like I could sleep for a hundred years.”

You chuckled softly, the sound a gentle ripple of warmth against the quiet of the room. Leaning in, you pressed a tender kiss to his temple, the gesture imbued with both affection and understanding.

“Since we’re not eating just yet, how about I put away the food first before we settle in for a nap together?” you suggest softly, the words slipping gently into the quiet space between you. As you attempt to wriggle free from his tender embrace, Jisung responds with a playful squeeze, a muffled whine of disapproval escaping his lips. His arms tighten around you, cocooning you in warmth and affection, unwilling to let go.

You can’t help but giggle at his stubbornness, your fingers tapping lightly on his biceps in a playful plea for release. Despite your gentle insistence, he remains resolute, his embrace as comforting as it is firm. “Please, just a moment,” you implore, your voice a soothing blend of amusement and persistence. “I promise it’ll only take a second.”

The room seems to hold its breath as you wait for his response, the soft rustle of the sheets and the rhythmic beat of your hearts creating a quiet symphony of intimacy and warmth.

He groans dramatically, his head falling back with a sleepily exaggerated pout that tugs at your heartstrings. Unable to resist, you lean in, capturing his lips in a tender kiss. The moment is soft and fleeting, a quiet affirmation of your affection. However, before the kiss can deepen, an unexpected yelp of surprise pierces the tranquility.

Startled, you both turn to see Chan standing in the doorway, his cheeks flushed a vivid shade of crimson. He stands there, momentarily frozen, as he fumbles with the light switch, the room flooding with sudden brightness. “Sorry,” Chan mumbles, his voice a hesitant whisper. His eyes dart away from the two of you, clearly embarrassed as he steps further inside. “Hannie said I could come in here to grab the cable I need. I didn’t realize you’d be here—I thought he would be at your place.”

With a sheepish nod, Chan dives into the drawers of Jisung’s desk, his movements quick and purposeful as he searches for the elusive cable. Within moments, he triumphantly retrieves it, his gaze flickering back to you and Jisung in an apologetic glance. Bowing awkwardly, Chan’s cheeks remain flushed as he hurries to exit. Jisung, watching the whole scene unfold, can’t suppress a chuckle, the sound rich with amusement. Chan, now thoroughly embarrassed, flicks the lights off with a swift motion before making a hasty exit, his footsteps echoing as he bolts out of the apartment.

“He’s so ridiculous,” Jisung mutters, his voice laced with a blend of amusement and exasperation. He finally loosens his embrace, allowing you to slip away as he sinks back into the plush depths of the bed. His eyes drift shut, heavy with fatigue, leaving the space beside him achingly vacant.

You rise, your movements gentle as you tread softly across the room, the dim light casting a warm glow over the scene. Jisung’s words hang in the air, a tender plea that tugs at your heart. “Hurry up,” he murmurs, his tone a soft blend of longing and affection. “I miss you already.”

The quiet intimacy of his request fills the room, a promise of the warmth and closeness awaiting you as you return to his side.

이용복 ── LEE YONGBOK.

The melody had woven itself into a relentless loop, its notes echoing and intertwining with the fabric of time for the past two hours. Despite the growing monotony of its repetition, your admiration for Yongbok’s unwavering commitment remains undiminished. Each echo of the song was met with his tireless pursuit of perfection, his every move an intricate dance of effort and grace.

As you watched him, your gaze was drawn to the artistry of his movements, which seemed to inch closer to flawless execution with every cycle of the song. Yet, your focus wavered slightly, ensnared by the sight before you. The relentless dance had left Yongbok drenched in perspiration, his thin white tank top clinging to his toned frame as though it were a second skin. His long hair, once neatly styled, now adhered to his neck and forehead in damp tendrils, framing his face with an unrestrained charm.

Under the harsh, bright glare of the overhead lights, Yongbok's sweat caught the illumination, casting a mesmerizing shimmer that made him appear almost ethereal, as if he were a creature of light and shadow dancing beneath a celestial spotlight. The sight of him, glowing with an otherworldly radiance, was enough to pull your thoughts away from the task at hand.

Suddenly, you jolted back to the present, your mind snapping into focus just in time to catch a subtle misstep in Yongbok's otherwise flawless routine. The small error, though minor, stood out against the backdrop of his otherwise meticulous performance, a testament to both his dedication and the endless pursuit of perfection.

With a practiced flick of your thumb, you paused the relentless song. Yongbok, spent and breathless, trudged over to you, each step heavy with fatigue. His once sharp movements were now slower, his chest rising and falling in labored breaths. He reached for his water bottle with a grateful, weary groan, tilting it back to quench his thirst before collapsing onto the floor beside you in a defeated slump.

A sympathetic chuckle escaped your lips as you rose from your spot, now relinquished to the worn patch of ground Yongbok had recently vacated. You adjusted your position, preparing to offer guidance. "Yongbokie," you began, your voice soothing and encouraging, "you’re slowing down the transition between these two moves, which disrupts the rhythm. It’s causing you to fall out of sync with the tempo."

With a patient, guiding touch, you demonstrated the movements, your body moving with the precision you hoped to convey. The graceful flow of your actions contrasted with the slower, labored efforts of Yongbok’s earlier attempts. "If you can manage to execute the transitions a bit faster," you said, illustrating the corrected pace with fluidity, "you’ll stay in perfect harmony with the beats. Let’s try it one more time. You’re so close to getting it just right, I promise."

Though Yongbok huffed in exhaustion, his resolve remained steadfast. He nodded, a spark of determination igniting in his eyes as he pulled himself off the ground to face the challenge once more. You patted his backside affectionately, your smile radiating warmth and encouragement. With a final, reassuring glance, you settled back into your own spot, your hand poised to restart the song and guide him through one more round of practice.

As the challenging segment of the choreography approached once again, a wave of anticipation rippled through the room. This time, as Yongbok executed the intricate moves with newfound precision, a burst of joy erupted from you. The moment he flawlessly completed the sequence, a triumphant cheer escaped your lips, filling the air with infectious excitement.

Yongbok’s face lit up with a radiant grin, his pride palpable as he executed the final steps with flawless grace. The relief was evident in his posture as the last notes of the song drifted into silence. Breathless and spent, he leaned heavily against the choreography’s completion, his body glistening with the sheen of hard-earned sweat.

Without hesitation, you sprang into action, wrapping your arms around him in a jubilant embrace. Despite the stickiness of his sweat-soaked form, your excitement and affection overshadowed any discomfort. Yongbok’s chuckle, light and appreciative, resonated in the space between you. His weight shifted onto you, causing a delighted giggle to bubble from your lips as you wobbled slightly, struggling to maintain your balance.

With a joyful determination, you steadied yourself, ensuring you could support both of you. “That was exactly what I was hoping for, Yongbok! You nailed it perfectly!” you exclaimed, your voice brimming with admiration. The connection between you two, now solidified by the shared triumph, felt both exhilarating and endearing, marking the culmination of a well-deserved moment of celebration.

"Does this mean we’re finished for today?" Yongbok’s voice was laced with a mixture of hope and weariness as he slowly lifted himself off you, his gaze searching for confirmation. His eyes, wide and gleaming with anticipation, met yours with a fervent intensity that made your heart skip a beat. 

You laughed softly, a warm sound that mingled with the dim glow of satisfaction in the room. Nodding, you placed a gentle hand on his damp abdomen, the contact reassuring and tender. Yongbok’s tired cheer was a muted echo of his earlier exuberance, a blend of relief and lingering fatigue.

However, the moment was charged with a different kind of energy as Yongbok’s eyes fixed on you with an almost palpable intensity. The depth of his gaze was impossible to ignore, and it made you shift uneasily, feeling a pang of discomfort mixed with longing. You were acutely aware of the electric chemistry between you two, the unspoken tension that lingered just beneath the surface. Though the desire to explore something beyond your professional boundaries was strong, the reality of your roles—idol and choreographer—kept you tethered to the confines of your current relationship.

With a heavy heart, you took a step back, the space between you now marked by a careful, deliberate distance. The flicker of disappointment in Yongbok’s eyes was quick and fleeting, though it did not escape your notice. In an instant, his expression softened, and a shy smile crept onto his lips, a tender acknowledgment of the boundaries you both knew you had to maintain.

"Do you happen to know where the other members should be right now?" Yongbok asked, his voice carrying a note of curiosity as he ambled back towards his water bottle. With a swift motion, he downed the remaining liquid in a single, satisfying gulp, the action accompanied by a soft, relieved sigh.

As Yongbok wiped away the sweat from his brow with the hem of his drenched tank top, the fabric clinging to his form, you couldn't help but be drawn to the sight of his toned, glistening abs. The subtle sheen of perspiration against his skin created an almost mesmerizing glimmer. You inhaled sharply, your breath catching in your throat at the unexpected display.

Embarrassment quickly flush your cheeks and ears with a deep, vibrant crimson. You cleared your throat, the sound a weak attempt to regain composure, and shifted your gaze to the opposite side of the dance room. There, your belongings were scattered haphazardly across the familiar leather couch. You made a beeline for it, desperately seeking refuge from the heat rising in your face.

"I think Chan is in his studio with Changbin and Han, as usual," you managed, your voice wavering slightly as you unplugged your charger and hastily stuffed it into your bag. "But I'm not entirely sure about the rest of the members." As you fumbled with your bag, you recalled a recent conversation. "Wait, Minho mentioned something about going out to eat with I.N, if I remember correctly."

The words stumbled out with an air of nervous distraction, as you tried to steady yourself amidst the lingering flush of embarrassment.

When you turned around, a jolt of surprise raced through you. Yongbok stood so close behind you that you could almost feel the warmth of his breath. His eyes, shimmering with a daring glint, set your heart racing uncontrollably. The intensity of his gaze made your breath hitch and your body tense, an intoxicating wave of anticipation washing over you.

His presence, almost overwhelming in its proximity, brought an unexpected silence between you. Yongbok’s smirk, laden with a hint of arrogance, conveyed a quiet confidence that seemed to pierce right through your defenses. The way he loomed over you, casting a shadow of both authority and allure, was a detail that had always stirred something deep within you. You realized with a start that you were holding your breath, caught in a moment where your unspoken dreams felt tantalizingly close to reality.

As his gaze slid deliberately to your lips, the unspoken possibility of what could happen next seemed to hang in the air. The thrill of breaking boundaries and rules danced at the edge of your consciousness, but the electric current of desire was stronger. Your knuckles turned white as you gripped the strap of your bag tightly, a physical manifestation of the mixture of anxiety and adrenaline coursing through you.

In that charged moment, the consequences of your actions felt distant and inconsequential. The possibility of Yongbok leaning in and shattering the boundaries of professionalism made your thoughts swirl in a haze of longing and exhilaration. You allowed yourself to be consumed by this desire, choosing to embrace the intensity of the moment and deal with any repercussions later. For now, logic faded into the background as you surrendered to the intoxicating allure of what might unfold.

"I, um," Yongbok began, his voice dropping to a hushed murmur that barely cut through the silence of the dance room, which was usually a whirlwind of sound and energy. The room's rare quietude made his words stand out, their subtle weight heavy in the calm.

"I always enjoy these private sessions with you. Even if it’s just for a short while, having you to myself truly becomes one of the highlights of my day." The sincerity in his voice was unexpected, and it struck you with a force that made your heart flutter. As you absorbed the depth of his words, your cheeks warmed, turning a deeper shade of red. The weight of his intention was clear, and it sparked a genuine smile that spread across your face, unable to be contained.

Seeing your reaction, Yongbok’s smirk softened into a tender, almost shy grin. His eyes, previously sharp and intense, now crinkled into crescent moons, their corners adorned with the sparkling constellation of his freckles. The sight was endearing, a stark contrast to the intensity of moments before.

"I also really enjoy these sessions with you," you whispered back, your voice barely more than a breath. You noticed his gaze linger on your lips once more, an unspoken conversation passing between your glances. "You make a pretty good student." The compliment was light but sincere, a playful acknowledgment of the bond you shared in these intimate moments of practice.

The low, rumbling chuckle that emerged from Yongbok's chest had a mesmerizing effect on you, leaving you momentarily dazed. Your gaze drifted slowly to his exquisitely plump lips, each curve and line illuminated by the soft light that bathed the room. 

"Yeah?" he teased, his voice carrying a playful challenge. The sound elicited a soft, involuntary giggle from you, a delightful echo of your shared tension. You watched as he inched closer, his presence growing more intoxicating with each passing second. His warm breath, gentle and inviting, fanned across your face in a way that was almost addictive. The sensation sent a shiver racing down your spine, a physical reminder of how close you now were. 

In this moment, you were acutely aware that this was the closest you had ever been to him. A silent prayer formed in your mind, hoping that this proximity wouldn’t be a fleeting encounter but the beginning of something more. The air between you crackled with anticipation, making you feel almost intoxicated by the intensity of the moment. 

Yongbok paused just before your lips could meet, his gaze locking onto yours with an unexpected intensity. The question that followed was softly spoken, almost reverent in its delivery. "Could I... may I kiss you?" His eyes searched yours for any sign of hesitation or discomfort, but all he found was a mixture of eagerness and affection. 

You nodded, your movements almost frantic in their urgency, as if you were desperate to reassure him. "Yes," you whispered, your voice trembling with the whirlwind of emotions that enveloped you. His gaze softened, and with your consent granted, he closed the distance between you. 

His lips met yours in a kiss that was both tender and passionately charged, a culmination of all the unspoken desires and longings that had simmered between you. The sensation was electrifying, and you felt your bag slip from your shoulder, landing softly on the floor with a muted thud. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you pulled him closer, savoring the intimate connection you had yearned for so long.

You barely registered the low, appreciative groan that escaped Yongbok as his arms encircled your waist, pulling you irresistibly closer against him. The sweat and stickiness from hours of rigorous rehearsal faded into insignificance, overshadowed by the profound intimacy of the kiss. 

As your lips melded together, the kiss deepened, a powerful exchange that spoke volumes of the years of unspoken longing and desire. Each movement was desperate, as if trying to communicate all the feelings that had been kept hidden for so long. The connection was so intense that you found yourself almost panting with the fervor of it, each breath a testament to the depth of your emotions.

In this sacred moment, you felt as though you were observing yourself from a distance, as if through a veil or a screen. Standing on the tips of your toes, you sought to bridge the remaining space between you, craving more of the warmth and closeness that he offered. The kiss seemed to transcend the physical act itself; it was a vessel for the profound yearning you had harbored throughout your time working together. Every touch, every brush of his lips, was a way to convey just how deeply you had longed for this connection.

To your utter dismay, the cherished moment you had longed for was abruptly shattered by the sharp sound of a scandalized gasp from across the room. The noise jolted you from your reverie, and you instinctively pushed Yongbok away, stumbling backward in a daze. Your eyes widened in shock as you turned to see Hyunjin standing at the entrance of the dance room, his jaw hanging open in astonishment and his eyes wide with disbelief.

Hyunjin’s gaze darted rapidly between you and Yongbok, his expression a mix of confusion and surprise. The air seemed to thicken with tension, each second stretching into what felt like an eternity. You floundered, desperately trying to summon a coherent excuse, but the words seemed to elude you in your state of panic. Yongbok, for his part, wore a deep crimson blush and offered a sheepish smile, clearly as taken aback as you were.

The silence between you was heavy, suffused with the weight of unspoken words and mounting anxiety. Hyunjin, despite his apparent shock, didn’t seem like the type to make a fuss, but the thought of potential consequences gnawed at your gut. The fear of losing the job you had come to cherish so deeply loomed large. Dancing had always been your sole passion, and the opportunity to choreograph for such an incredible group had been a dream come true. The confidence you had felt moments ago evaporated, leaving you trembling and vulnerable, a far cry from the composed professional you had aspired to be.

To your astonishment, a broad, teasing grin spread across Hyunjin’s face, his eyes glinting with mischief as he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. His gaze shifted from you to Yongbok with an air of playful challenge. “Lixie, when did you get so daring?” he drawled, his voice laced with amusement. “I never thought you’d actually go for it.”

The shock of his words made you whirl your head to face Yongbok, who was now blushing deeply, his cheeks a vivid shade of red. He shot Hyunjin a half-hearted glare, his embarrassment palpable. “How long have you two been seeing each other?” Hyunjin continued, his voice rising with mock indignation. “And why haven’t I heard anything about it?”

Leaning casually against the doorframe, Hyunjin crossed his arms over his chest, adopting a playful pout that made the whole situation feel oddly lighthearted despite the tension. His demeanor was almost too casual for the gravity of the moment.

Yongbok, still flushed and clearly flustered, waved his hands in front of him in a frantic gesture. “You haven’t heard anything because you just interrupted our first kiss, you idiot!” The exasperation in his voice was evident, mingled with the lingering blush of his cheeks.

As Hyunjin’s realization dawned upon him, his entire demeanor shifted from playful mischief to genuine remorse. His face flushed with sudden guilt, and he bowed repeatedly, his hurried apologies tumbling out in a rush. With a final, sheepish glance, he bolted from the room with surprising speed, leaving behind a palpable silence.

You stood there, momentarily stunned, your eyes fixed on the spot where Hyunjin had just been. The shock of the interruption lingered, making the stillness around you seem almost tangible. After a few moments, Yongbok cautiously stepped back into your line of sight. He resumed his previous position but with a respectful distance, his gaze searching for any sign of your reaction.

"I'm sorry about that," Yongbok mumbled, his voice tinged with a shy, almost bashful quality. "I may or may not have been crushing on you for quite a while." His confession hung in the air, and you felt a flutter of amusement at his honest admission.

Shaking yourself out of the daze, a soft giggle escaped your lips, breaking the lingering tension. You bent to retrieve the bag you had dropped in the frenzy of the moment, your cheeks still flushed with a persistent blush. "I think it's actually quite cute," you said sincerely, meeting his gaze with warmth. "If it helps, I’ve also had feelings for you for a while. I guess that makes us even."

The smile that bloomed on Yongbok’s face was radiant, transforming his earlier embarrassment into an endearing display of joy. Seeing his expression light up made your heart swell with affection, and your own smile widened in response. The shared understanding between you felt like a promise of something beautiful beginning to unfold.

Finally, as the realization of your earlier intention to leave washed over him, Yongbok reached out with a gentle, reassuring gesture. His hand, warm and steady, closed around the handle of your bag, taking it from your grasp despite the evident confusion that flickered across your face.

With a soft, earnest smile, he met your gaze. "I'd like to walk you home, if you'll allow me," he offered, his voice carrying a tender note of sincerity. The invitation hung in the air, a promise of continued closeness and shared moments, as he stood there, waiting for your response with a hopeful glint in his eyes.

김승민 ── KIM SEUNGMIN.

The heavy, cumbersome bags dug relentlessly into your forearms as you and Seungmin trudged through the labyrinthine corridors leading to his apartment. Each step you took felt like a battle against the relentless weight, the rough straps cutting into your skin. Despite your intimate familiarity with this maze of hallways—so well-known that you could navigate it even with your eyes closed—Seungmin led the way with a quiet confidence. 

The silence between you was filled with a subtle, unspoken ease. The only sounds punctuating the stillness were the occasional rustle of plastic and the soft, steady rhythm of your breath. Your panting was light, a testament to the slight strain you felt as you wrestled with the bags' burdens. Seungmin had insisted on carrying every single bag in one go, a decision born from a practical desire to avoid the inconvenience of multiple trips. You could grudgingly acknowledge the wisdom in his suggestion, even as you shot occasional glares at the back of his head, cursing the added effort required.

Despite your murmured complaints, the truth was that Seungmin had taken on the lion's share of the load. His gentlemanly nature had ensured that the majority of the burden fell upon him, leaving you with only a few bags to manage. His consideration was evident, and though you resented the extra strain, you couldn't deny the relief it brought you.

With a deep, grateful sigh, you finally spotted the familiar door that marked the threshold of your boyfriend’s apartment, where he shared his space with his friend Yongbok. The door stood at the end of the hallway, a beacon of familiarity in the dimly lit corridor. As you and Seungmin rounded the final corner, a cacophony of sounds spilled out from within, a vivid reminder of the lively chaos unfolding just beyond the threshold.

Even from this distance, the din was unmistakable. The clamor of laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the occasional burst of playful shouts drifted through the walls, painting a vivid picture of the evening’s revelry. It was a weekly ritual, a cherished tradition among the group: a night dedicated to drinks, games, and movies. The venue for these gatherings rotated among the four apartments, and tonight was Seungmin and Yongbok’s turn to play host.

This familiar routine was the reason for your last-minute excursion, a hurried shopping trip undertaken with Seungmin. The promise of good company and the comforting familiarity of these gatherings made every effort worthwhile, even if it meant bearing the burden of heavy bags and enduring the bustle of a lively home.

As the two of you finally approached your destination, the hallway seemed to stretch out in slow motion. You observed Seungmin with a mixture of anticipation and amusement as he fumbled with his keys, his fingers deftly searching for the right one to unlock the door and liberate you both from the burdensome weight of the grocery bags. Each moment seemed to elongate as he concentrated intently on the task at hand, his brow furrowed in concentration.

A spark of mischief flickered within you, and a playful smirk curved your lips as an impish idea took shape. Seizing the opportunity, you inched closer to him despite the heavy bags you still carried. With a mischievous glint in your eye, you leaned in and gently nipped at his earlobe—an area you knew to be particularly sensitive, a delightful secret you alone had the privilege of knowing.

The effect was immediate and electrifying. Seungmin's task came to an abrupt halt as he shot you a look of mock indignation, though the glint in his eyes betrayed his amusement. You could almost feel the jolt of pleasure radiating through him, and the sight of his reaction filled you with giddy satisfaction. Your smirk widened, thoroughly pleased with the ripple of surprise and delight you'd managed to provoke.

“You’re a brat, you know that, right?” Seungmin’s voice was laced with playful reprimand, but the intense glimmer of desire in his eyes was unmistakable—a fiery spark that you could discern from miles away. An exhilarating surge of adrenaline coursed through your veins, yet you maintained an innocent facade, one you knew perfectly well would drive him to distraction. Teasing him was a delight, particularly because he was so wonderfully easy to provoke.

With a resigned shake of his head, Seungmin decided to forgo engaging further in your tantalizing game. He returned to his task, wrestling with the tangled keys and the cumbersome grocery bags. Despite his frustration, he eventually managed to grasp the elusive key he’d been searching for, his movements a blend of determination and exasperation.

You pouted slightly, trying to ignore the discomfort of the heavy bags digging into your arms as you once again leaned in, eager to continue your playful assault. But before you could take another nip at his ear, you were met with an unexpected turn of events. A startled gasp escaped your lips as Seungmin swiftly maneuvered you against the wall beside the entrance door. The thud of the grocery bags hitting the floor was a distant sound, overshadowed by the deliciously stern gaze Seungmin now directed at you. His eyes, fierce and intense, held you captive in a moment of electrifying silence, leaving you utterly captivated and breathless.

You were unrepentantly shameless in your brattiness whenever Seungmin was near; it was a facet of yourself that you relished, an irresistible indulgence that compelled him to respond with a roughness that only fueled your excitement further. The thrill of this dynamic was too captivating to forgo, and the sight of him now made your knees quiver slightly, though his firm grip on your waist steadied you, his hands pressing down with a force that bordered on painful.

"You're going to need to be on your best behavior once we go inside, pup," he murmured, his voice low and commanding. The warm breath against your ear sent thrilling shivers cascading down your spine, a tangible reminder of his proximity and the intensity of his focus. The sternness of his tone only added to the charged atmosphere between you.

In response to the overwhelming sensation, you let the bags you’d been clutching fall to the floor with a grateful thud, the weight lifting from your arms like a welcome reprieve. You eagerly wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer, the warmth of his body merging with yours. A startled gasp escaped you when Seungmin’s teeth suddenly grazed the nape of your neck, his bite both sharp and exhilarating. His gaze, a blend of silent challenge and teasing, held you captive as he pulled back slightly, his eyes gleaming with unspoken promises and the lingering thrill of the moment.

Without a second thought, you leaned in with fervor, capturing his irresistibly warm lips in a heated kiss. Your body pressed eagerly against his, a blend of warmth and excitement fueling your playful exchange. The kiss was both urgent and tender, a passionate dance that seemed to defy time itself.

Yet, just as suddenly as you had initiated the kiss, you broke away, a mischievous glint in your eyes. You pushed him gently, feigning a lighthearted annoyance. "Come on, Min, we have to get inside quickly—I don't want my ice cream to melt," you said, your voice adopting an innocent tone that belied the intense arousal you felt. You moved to retrieve the fallen grocery bags, determined to restore some semblance of normalcy.

However, your attempt to distance yourself was swiftly thwarted. Before you could get very far, Seungmin's hands were firmly on your shoulders, and you found yourself pressed against the wall once more. His eyes, ablaze with a mix of irritation and desire, locked onto yours with an intensity that you found intoxicating. 

"No, pup, you started this," he murmured with a gruff edge to his voice. His lips then descended upon your neck, expertly finding that sensitive spot you so loved. His tongue traced and teased with a skill that made you sigh in deep satisfaction. As he lavished attention on your neck, you instinctively wrapped your arms around him again, savoring the thrilling intimacy of the moment.

As you began to rock your hips in a desperate bid for more friction, a sudden distraction interrupted your moment. The front door creaked open, its sound briefly pulling your focus away. Yet, Seungmin remained undeterred, his determination to stir your passions evident in the way he continued to work you up with unrelenting intensity.

You craned your neck, your gaze settling on Minho, who stood at the threshold with an amused snort. His eyes danced with barely concealed laughter as he took in the scene before him. His gaze dropped to the grocery bags strewn haphazardly on the floor, abandoned in the midst of your playful struggle. 

"They're back!" Minho's voice rang out, cheerful and slightly teasing. "Our Seungminnie is a bit preoccupied at the moment—busy being his usual doggy self. So if someone could lend me a hand with these bags, I'd appreciate it. I need to get dinner started," he added, his laughter causing his voice to break with a playful edge. With a few deft motions, he gathered several bags and turned to head back inside, leaving you and Seungmin in a bubble of intimate chaos.

Moments later, Chan emerged, his expression one of affectionate amusement as he playfully cooed at Seungmin. With a grin, he took hold of the remaining bags, his presence adding a warm, reassuring energy to the scene. As he followed Minho inside, he closed the door gently behind him, leaving you and Seungmin to resume your private interlude amidst the soft echo of the apartment’s lively ambiance.

A startled moan escaped your lips as Seungmin’s teeth sank into the tender flesh of your neck once more, his bite more forceful and insistent than before. The sensation sent shivers coursing down your spine, a raw mixture of pleasure and surprise. 

Seungmin’s voice, though laced with a sarcastic edge, only served to heighten the intensity of the moment. “Thanks for that,” he murmured, his words dripping with mock irritation. Yet, his actions betrayed the playful harshness of his tone. He pulled you impossibly closer, his grip tightening around you with a fervent, possessive energy. The closeness only served to underscore his own arousal, an unspoken testament to the charged atmosphere between you. His body pressed firmly against yours, each movement conveying a depth of desire that matched your own heightened sensations.

양정인 ── YANG JEONGIN.

In the gentle hum of late afternoon, the table in front of you became a tapestry of neatly folded garments, each piece meticulously arranged. The clothes, a delicate mix of your own and Jeongin's, formed soft, colorful mounds, their textures inviting a closer look. You worked silently, your fingers deftly handling the final batch of freshly dried laundry that Jeongin had just brought in. The room was filled with a tranquil rhythm, punctuated only by the soft rustling of fabric and the occasional sigh of contentment.

Jeongin's presence was like a warm breeze, a comforting whisper against the backdrop of domesticity. He slipped into the space beside you with effortless grace, his lips pressing a gentle, affectionate kiss to your cheek. It was a sweet, fleeting gesture that spoke of deep affection, a moment of intimacy amidst the mundane task of folding clothes. 

This was the first time you had woven your lives together in such a simple, yet profoundly meaningful way. The day had unfolded with a natural ease, as though you both were actors playing out a scene from a well-loved script. The apartment, once a chaotic landscape of disarray, now felt like a canvas being painted with the colors of shared domesticity. 

Jeongin had seized the opportunity of his day off to tackle the untidy corners of his home, a task he had long postponed. Yet, in his desire to make the most of the day, he found himself yearning for your company. You had offered to assist with the chores, with the playful condition that you would also tend to your own laundry in his space. The agreement was made with a lighthearted chuckle, an unspoken promise of more moments like this—simple, joyful, and richly woven with the threads of companionship.

From the edges of your vision, you caught the sight of his dimples making a gentle appearance, etched into his cheeks like sweet indentations. They were the result of the tender smile that danced upon his lips, a subtle curve that spoke of warmth and quiet joy. Drawn to the softness of his expression, you turned to face him fully, your own smile beginning to bloom, pulling at the corners of your mouth with a playful grace.

“What has you so delightfully smiley?” you inquired, your voice tinged with a teasing lilt that fluttered through the air. His response came as a light-hearted chuckle, a sound as soft as a whispering breeze, accompanied by a modest shrug that seemed to carry the weight of his contentment. Seeking to coax more from him, you nudged his arm gently with your elbow, a tender gesture meant to elicit a deeper revelation.

“I don’t know,” he replied, his voice a soft murmur, the smile remaining steadfast and sincere. “I usually find chores like this a bit of a drudge, but today has been different. It’s been so lovely to do this with you.” His heartfelt confession unfurled in the quiet space between you, causing your heart to swell with a warm, affectionate glow. The earnestness in his eyes and the simplicity of his words stirred something deep within you, and a soft, melodic giggle escaped your lips, blending with the gentle rhythm of your shared moment.

In truth, the tapestry of your relationship was still being woven, with threads of time only recently beginning to intertwine. The two of you had yet to travel far from the fresh, unblemished shores of early romance. The incessant fluttering of your hearts, a constant and delicate dance, was a telltale sign that you were still immersed in the radiant bubble of your honeymoon phase. Each shared glance, every fleeting touch, seemed imbued with an ineffable sweetness that colored the world with a softer hue.

In these tender moments, such as folding each other’s clothes, the act felt imbued with a quiet sanctity. What might seem like mundane tasks in the eyes of the world were transformed into sacred rituals between you. Each folded garment was more than just fabric; it was a silent promise, a whispered vow of a future enriched with even more tenderness and intimacy. The simplicity of these acts became a testament to the budding depth of your connection, a gentle assurance that these early days were but the beginning of a beautifully unfolding story.

As you folded the final pair of Jeongin's socks, the rhythmic motion of your hands was accompanied by a contented sigh. Leaning against the table, you turned to face him, your gaze meeting his with an unspoken connection. Moments later, he completed the task of hanging the last of your tops onto a hanger—a humble relic from your own home—his movements graceful and deliberate.

He turned to you, his face illuminated by the same dimpled smile that had captured your heart so effortlessly. “I think this means we’re done cleaning,” you said, a note of cheerful satisfaction in your voice. Jeongin's nod of agreement mirrored your own contentment, his eyes twinkling with shared joy. “How about we watch a movie now? I could make us some popcorn,” you suggested, your voice carrying a hopeful lilt.

As you spoke, you couldn’t help but notice the dreamy expression on his face. It was as though he were enchanted by the sight of you, his gaze filled with a deep, almost reverent adoration. Despite his usual aversion to physical contact, Jeongin’s arms, strong and reassuring, encircled you with a surprising tenderness. The embrace was warm and enveloping, your arms gently pinned between your bodies. Laughter bubbled up, filling the cozy confines of the laundry room with a light, melodious sound.

He looked down at you, his eyes shimmering with an affectionate gleam, his smile broad and adorably sincere. In that moment, you felt yourself melting into the safety of his embrace, a profound sense of belonging washing over you. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you, wrapped in a cocoon of warmth and joy.

The world around you seemed to dissolve into a serene stillness, each moment stretching languorously as you lost yourself in the profound warmth of his eyes. Their depths seemed to draw you in, a captivating ocean of affection and sincerity. Your fingers, almost unconsciously, traced the delicate chain resting against his chest, their movements a gentle counterpoint to the intensity of his gaze.

In the midst of this tranquil exchange, you were not the least bit surprised when his soft, tender lips met yours in a kiss that was both gentle and deeply heartfelt. The touch was a whisper of warmth and intimacy, a silent promise that spoke volumes. You returned his kiss with equal fervor, your lips melding with his in a dance of shared emotion.

Despite the familiarity of the gesture, the effect on you was anything but ordinary. Your heart, ever so responsive, performed an elegant pirouette within your chest, fluttering with a rhythm that felt both exhilarating and soothing. It was as though each kiss with Jeongin carried a unique magic, a spellbinding effect that rendered each encounter as thrilling as the first. His presence seemed to ignite a vibrant, ineffable energy within you, making even the simplest of moments feel profoundly significant.

As the kiss deepened, its tender embrace seemed to hold time in suspension. Yet, the tranquility of the moment was abruptly interrupted by a voice that sliced through the intimacy like a sudden breeze. "Oh, well I guess not," Seungmin mumbled to himself, his voice laced with bemused resignation as he turned to make his exit.

Before Seungmin could disappear from view, Jeongin’s voice rang out, a note of curiosity threading through his words. “Hey! You guess not what?” Seungmin’s head poked back into the laundry room, his face a mask of nonchalance. He offered a brief, impassive nod in your direction as a greeting, his eyes flickering between you and Jeongin. 

"I just wanted to see if you wanted to go out to eat," Seungmin explained, his tone casual yet inviting. "Channie told me you'd be here. If Y/N wants to join, it’s on me." The offer was accompanied by a small, friendly smile, a gesture of genuine camaraderie.

You returned his smile, your eyes drifting up to meet Jeongin’s as you awaited his response. The two of you exchanged a glance, a silent dialogue unfolding in the brief, wordless moments. Jeongin’s eyes held a spark of consideration, his gaze reflecting the warmth of shared understanding. After a heartbeat of contemplation, he turned back to Seungmin with a decisive nod. "Yeah, we’ll go."

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Permanent taglist: @agi-ppangx @sunnyrisee @jisunglyricist @nxtt2-u @nebugalaxy @bokk-minnie (Click on the link to join! All you have to do is answer a few questions to help me stay organized!)

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Post taglist: @stayconnecteed @ihrtlix @unabasheddeanrebellover-blog @zerefdragn33l @bakugohoex @pixiiebutt @chuuyaobsessed @estella-novella @minszn @telemarcs @hannieslovebot @d-chagi @iambangchanswife @j1998v @oc3anfloor @minminmoew @tajannah-price1

🍉 FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE! DAILY CLICKS!

──── * ˚ ✦ ECHOES OF US ( stray kids )

❛ After a painful breakup, you and Jeongin struggle to maintain a civil front for your mutual friends, but when he accidentally calls you by your old pet name, unresolved emotions resurface, forcing you both to confront the lingering feelings between you.

𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐣𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧 + gender neutral reader ೯ ( 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 )

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 12.6k 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: 50 mins

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ Say hello to my very first long-fic! It took me an eternity to get this done, but I'm actually very proud of how it turned out! Also, my very rough draft for this was accidentally posted a few days ago, so if you saw that...no you didn't! This was anonymously requested! (Anon, I'm sorry it took me a hot minute to finally finish this, but I hope I made up for it with how long it ended up being 🫠) Reblogs for this teaser are always appreciated! Requests are currently open! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Mentions of sibling death and grief, very brief mention of a dysfunctional home, use of they-them pronouns for Y/N, brief explanation of sibling death, Y/N's sibling has their own name, mentions of being abandoned, heartbreak, awkward re-encounter after almost a year, discussions on mental health, a whole lot of angst, comforting ending, let me know if I missed anything!

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ) ( 𝐭𝐢𝐩 𝐣𝐚𝐫 )

When Jeongin stepped through the door he had once shared with you, a sense of dread already coiled tightly around his heart, squeezing with every breath. He knew you'd kept your promise to move out by the end of the week, but the reality of it hit harder than he could have imagined. The front hallway, once cluttered with a chaotic jumble of shoes that you always left haphazardly by the entrance, now stood painfully bare, save for his own neatly aligned row of frequently worn sneakers. The absence of your presence echoed louder than any argument ever had, and suddenly he found himself longing for those moments of trivial annoyance—wishing, with a deep, aching desire, that he could quarrel with you about it just once more.

He kicked off his sneakers, setting them carefully amongst the rest of his now lonely footwear. For a moment, he stood there, hesitant, almost willing to call out your name, hoping against hope that you might answer from the bedroom or kitchen, your voice cutting through the oppressive silence that now smothered the apartment. But he knew better. He moved forward with heavy steps, not even bothering to put on his house slippers. The silence that greeted him as he wandered further inside was a deafening reminder of what he had lost. You were gone, and with you, the vibrant energy that had once filled these walls had vanished too.

The living room—once a collage of your combined tastes—was now stripped of the personal touches that made it home. The furniture remained, the couch where you both had laughed and argued, the coffee table marked with rings from careless mugs of tea during lazy mornings. Yet, all the little decorations, the framed art you insisted on hanging, the plants you’d tried so hard to keep alive—they had all disappeared with you. The emptiness was jarring, like a canvas half-painted and abruptly abandoned, leaving every wall and surface barren, the once warm and cozy atmosphere now reduced to a cold, unfamiliar space.

By the time Jeongin reached the bedroom, the last thread of his fragile composure snapped. The bed—where countless memories had been woven—was stripped down to its bare mattress, the sheets gone. The framed photographs of the two of you were turned face down on the bedside table, as if you couldn’t bear to look at them one last time. His eyes moved to the corner where your ridiculously large collection of stuffed animals had once spilled over, crowding half of the bed. That too was empty now. An overwhelming wave of loss washed over him, dragging him to his knees. 

Jeongin's breath came out in shaky gasps as he looked around the hollow shell of what had been your shared sanctuary. You were truly gone. Though he had been the one to end things between you, a decision made in a moment of confusion and pride, he was still hopelessly, painfully in love with you. The realization of his own foolishness crashed over him with unbearable weight, suffocating him in the silence that was once filled with your laughter, your presence, and your love.

Jeongin couldn’t summon a shred of resentment toward you, even if he tried. He understood, all too painfully, that everything that had unraveled between you over the past year was nothing but a sorrowful consequence of your grief. You had once been a soul overflowing with light, always searching for the silver lining amidst the clouds, a spirit who could find a glimmer of hope even in the darkest of times. You, who would often conspire with his mischievous best friend, Seungmin, forming a relentless duo to tease him until he’d feign a pout, forcing you to shower him with kisses until he laughed again. You, who came home every evening brimming with stories about the children you counseled at the school, your eyes alight with passion and care for each of them. All that Jeongin had loved so deeply about you seemed to have been buried alongside your sister, Nari, and this loss was a truth he still grappled with, even now.

As he crawled onto the empty, cold bed that had once been a warm sanctuary for both of you, Jeongin curled into himself, his body folding inward as if trying to shield himself from the harsh reality. His sobs came in ragged waves, tearing through him so violently that he trembled, his breath hitching with each shaky inhale. He missed you more than words could convey—he missed everything about you. The sound of your laughter echoed in his mind like a haunting melody, its tones shifting with your moods: soft and lyrical when merely amused, and loud, unrestrained when joy truly overwhelmed you. He missed those sounds, the ones that used to fill this now desolate space with life and love.

He missed the lazy afternoons you'd spend together, brainstorming new exercises for his music therapy sessions. Those moments would often devolve into impromptu concerts, filled with your carefree, barefoot dancing across the living room floor and his voice following your lead, blending into a harmony of shared happiness. It was in those moments that everything felt right in the world, where nothing existed but the two of you, lost in your own little universe of melodies and movements. He missed those afternoons like one misses the warmth of the sun after too many days of rain.

He missed teasing you in those quiet moments when you were deeply focused, often catching you sticking your tongue out ever so slightly—a quirk of concentration that never failed to endear him. He’d gently pinch it between his fingers, earning himself a mildly exasperated huff as you’d swat his hand away. But he knew that a smile would inevitably creep up on your lips, and you’d turn away to hide it, cheeks flushing with a mix of amusement and affection. It was the kind of simple, tender moment that spoke volumes about the depth of your bond, a bond that now felt irreparably severed.

Every corner of this home whispered memories of you, and he was haunted by them all—the good, the bad, the ones that made him laugh, and especially those that made him cry. Your absence left a void that nothing could fill, a hollow silence where there had once been laughter and love. And even though he knew it was your grief that had driven a wedge between you, he couldn’t help but wish he could find a way back to you, to the person you used to be, and to the love that once made him feel whole.

The night that shattered your world was meant to be a day of celebration: your younger sister Nari’s high school graduation. Jeongin could still see you in his mind's eye that morning, almost vibrating with pure, uncontainable joy. Your eyes were bright, brimming with excitement, and your smile—so wide and beautiful—tugged at his heart each time it graced your lips. Nari was the center of your universe, your pride, your joy, your true soulmate in a world that often felt uncertain and cold. You had been more than just a sister to her; you had been her guardian, her comforter, her everything. You were the one who took on the weight of raising her through the chaotic turmoil of your parents' messy divorce, providing stability where there was none. 

Jeongin could recall countless times Nari would recount how you shielded her from the constant, venomous arguments that echoed through your childhood home. Despite your own young age, you found ways to distract her, to pull her out of the chaos—whether it was with whispered jokes or made-up games that filled her mind with something brighter than the screaming. To Nari, you were a star, someone who had hung the moon just for her. She often spoke with a mix of awe and adoration about the afternoons you both spent sneaking into the little ice cream shop on the way home from school, spending hours laughing over melting cones until you were sure your mother had left for work. 

Jeongin also remembered the quiet, tender moments he would witness after you had graduated and moved out. Nights when Nari would sleep over, curled up beside you, as if you were her very own safe haven in a world that could be so unforgiving. There was a beauty in how you held her close, how you seemed to provide her with an anchor when everything else felt adrift. Yet, no relationship, no matter how deeply cherished, is without its storms. For as vividly as Jeongin could remember the soft, loving moments, he could just as clearly recall the bitter weeks leading up to Nari's graduation—weeks marked by harsh words and heated arguments.

You and Nari shared many things—your fierce loyalty, your protective instincts—but perhaps most notably, the sharp edge of your words. When tempers flared, both of you possessed a mercilessly cutting tongue that could lash out with a force that left deep, stinging wounds. Jeongin hated those fights, hated the cruel things you would shout at each other in the heat of the moment, words that cut so deeply and yet meant nothing once the anger faded. The conflict had started when Nari began dating an older guy who had already graduated. Neither you nor Jeongin liked him, sensing the danger in his recklessness, his penchant for illegal activities that threatened to drag your sister down a path she wasn't prepared for. But Nari, stubborn and convinced she had found the love of her life, refused to listen. The tension between you both grew unbearable, each argument driving another wedge between you and your beloved sister, and Jeongin could do nothing but stand helplessly on the sidelines, watching as she slowly pushed you away.

The real fracture came on what should have been a night of celebration. Nari was supposed to have dinner with you and Jeongin to celebrate her graduation. She promised to meet you both, to share in the joy of her achievement, but instead, she turned off her phone and ran off with her boyfriend to a party that everyone knew would be dangerous. For hours, you and Jeongin called and texted, reaching out to everyone who might have known where she was, each unanswered ring heightening the tension, every minute stretching into a painful eternity. 

And then, the call came—the one that brought your entire world crashing down. Nari had been found dead inside her boyfriend’s car. Both were intoxicated when he decided to drive, his recklessness steering them straight into a tree. The impact killed them both instantly. 

Jeongin would never forget the sound that tore through you in that moment, a wail of agony so deep and raw it seemed to shatter the very air around you. It was a sound that would forever echo in his heart, a haunting melody of a love lost too soon and a pain that could never be soothed.

The piercing sound of Jeongin's phone ringing in his back pocket cut through the thick, oppressive fog of memories that had been drowning him ever since he stepped into the cold, empty apartment that was once alive with the warmth of your shared moments. His body still trembled with the aftershocks of his own heartbreak, his face still wet with a cascade of tears that seemed endless. For a moment, he considered ignoring it, letting it fade away into the void of everything else that felt lost to him. But something compelled him to move, to reach into his pocket and pull out his phone. The screen flashed with a name: Chan. 

Jeongin’s first instinct was to let it ring out. He wasn’t sure he could bear the gentle, pity-laden concern he knew he would hear in Chan’s voice. The idea of facing someone else’s worry, of being forced to articulate the emptiness clawing at his chest, felt like too much. But he also knew that Chan wasn’t just calling for the sake of it—he was worried. Maybe that thought, the notion that someone still cared enough to reach out, was what finally convinced Jeongin to answer. With a shaky breath, he pressed the phone to his ear.

“Yes?” His voice came out rough and broken, as if he’d swallowed shards of glass, a hoarse rasp that even he barely recognized. On the other end, there was a sharp intake of breath, a small hitch that spoke volumes, followed by the sound of Chan clearing his throat in that awkward, nervous way he had when he didn’t know how to approach a delicate subject.

“Hey, how are you holding up?” Chan’s voice was gentle, tentative, as if afraid that anything more might cause Jeongin to shatter completely. The simple question, so innocuous yet loaded with care, brought fresh tears to Jeongin’s eyes. He swallowed thickly, trying to keep his composure, not wanting to add more weight to Chan’s worry.

“As well as I can be...everything is gone.” The words felt heavy on his tongue, sinking like stones into the silence that followed. There was a sigh on the other end, deep and empathetic, filled with an understanding that was both comforting and unbearable.

“I’ll stop by later, yeah?” Chan’s offer came with a note of encouragement, trying to lift the heavy blanket of despair. “I can bring Minho so he can cook you some food, and we can figure out what comes next.” There was kindness in his words, an attempt to pull Jeongin from the pit he’d found himself in, but the weight pressing on Jeongin’s chest didn’t budge, didn’t ease in the slightest.

“Maybe another time, Channie, thank you,” Jeongin murmured, his voice carrying the exhaustion of someone who had been running a losing race against his own emotions. “I think I just need a few days alone.” The silence that stretched between them after was telling, thick with Chan’s unspoken disapproval. Jeongin could almost see the frown on his friend’s face, the way he’d be chewing on his lip, holding back what he really wanted to say.

Eventually, Chan spoke again, his tone carefully measured, almost as if he were walking on eggshells. “Right. Um, hey...Felix wanted to pay Y/N a visit to make sure everything’s alright and to help with the moving. The problem is, none of us really know where they moved, and we thought that maybe they might’ve told you or something?”

The mention of your name was like a punch to the gut, a sharp twist of the knife that had already been embedded in his heart. Jeongin’s breath caught, and he could feel his throat tightening, the sting of tears threatening to spill over once more. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to stay composed, to not break apart all over again.

“No,” he sighed after a moment, rolling onto his back and staring up at the empty, featureless ceiling that seemed to stretch on like an abyss. “I thought you guys would’ve known... but maybe Y/N needs some time alone for a while too. I’m sure they’ll call when they’re ready.”

The words felt hollow, a brittle hope that tasted more like ash on his tongue, but it was all he could offer. And in the silence that followed, Jeongin could only listen to the faint sound of Chan’s breathing, the weight of their shared helplessness settling in like a cold, unwelcome presence in the room.

Jeongin had clung to a fragile hope that, in time, you would reach out to the circle of friends who had once been your shared lifeline. He never imagined that you would confide in him directly—he knew all too well that the pain of his departure still festered like an open wound. You had made it painfully clear how much you resented him for breaking things off when you needed him most. He could still hear your voice, raw with anger and hurt, echoing in his mind as you stormed out of the apartment for the last time.

But never in his darkest nightmares had he expected you to vanish completely, as if swallowed by the earth itself. There wasn't even a whisper of your whereabouts, not the faintest trace left behind to hint at where you might have gone. It was as if you had been erased from existence. When you left, you didn't just walk out of Jeongin's life—you walked away from everything that had tied you to this place. You resigned from your job as a school counselor, the one located just a short distance from Jeongin’s apartment where you had once found solace in guiding young lives through their own turmoil. Your phone number had changed, your social media accounts lay abandoned and untouched, gathering digital dust like forgotten relics of a past life.

For what felt like an eternity, each member of your once tightly-knit group of friends wore the weight of worry like a second skin, tirelessly searching for any sign of you, some confirmation that you were still out there, somewhere, still breathing. Nights were spent in hushed conversations and whispered theories, each one more desperate than the last, wondering if you were even alive. The silence you left in your wake was deafening, a void that consumed every bit of hope they tried to hold onto.

Yet, as the months dragged on and there was still no word—no signal, no letter, not even a single fleeting message—Jeongin and the others were forced to confront a harsh new reality. The absence of your presence became a palpable thing, a hollow emptiness that settled in their chests. Slowly, reluctantly, they began to understand that they might never see you again. And in that painful understanding, they had no choice but to piece together their broken hearts and try, however feebly, to move forward. 

But even as they moved on, a part of Jeongin remained anchored in that lingering silence, waiting for the day it would finally break.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Eight months had passed since you vanished without a word, leaving behind a void that swallowed everything and everyone you once knew. Jeongin found himself seated on a low stool in the center of his sunlit office, a space designed to cradle broken spirits. The room was filled with warmth, the soft, earth-toned walls bathed in a gentle, golden glow that made it feel like a sanctuary amidst the chaos. Around him, cushions were scattered like islands of comfort, and the soft hum of a guitar rested against his body, its strings vibrating gently with each subtle shift of his calloused fingers.

In front of him, a small group sat in a circle, each person a vessel of silent sorrow. Some had their eyes shut tight, trying to shut out the world, while others stared ahead, their gazes distant, lost in the labyrinth of their own pain. Today’s session was centered around grief—a familiar theme that Jeongin had come to understand all too well. His eyes swept over the group, his expression soft and understanding, a silent invitation for them to share their burdens. Directly across from him, a young woman who had recently lost her mother sat rigid, her shoulders taut as bowstrings, her fingers anxiously picking at the frayed edge of her sleeve. Beside her, an elderly man kept his gaze fixed on his wrinkled hands, folded so tightly in his lap it seemed as if he was afraid he might fall apart if he let go.

Jeongin's fingers began to dance over the guitar strings, coaxing out a few gentle notes that floated through the room like a soft breeze on a warm day. The melody was simple, almost like a lullaby—tender and soothing, a soft hand reaching out in the enveloping darkness. It was a song he had crafted with your help, your voice whispering in his mind, guiding the melody with your mesmerizing ideas and gentle critiques. He tried not to think of you now, of the countless hours you'd spent together creating this very piece, but the memory lingered like a ghost.

“Let’s take a deep breath,” he murmured, his voice a low hum that barely rose above the delicate strumming. “Breathe in... and out. Feel the music as it moves through you.” His voice was smooth and warm as he began to sing, threading through the air like a comforting embrace. The lyrics were a balm for weary souls, speaking of finding peace amid the storm, of a quiet place where one could lay down their burdens. He watched the room with quiet intent, observing as the music began to weave its subtle magic.

The young woman’s shoulders, once so tense, began to loosen ever so slightly, her breath easing into a more natural rhythm. The elderly man’s grip on his hands softened, his fingers unclenching as if the melody had given him permission to let go, if only for a moment. Jeongin’s heart ached as he shifted the melody into a new key, a hint of melancholy now woven into the notes. His voice leaned into the emotion, allowing it to crack and falter in just the right places, like a mirror reflecting the fractures of a breaking heart.

He knew the power of those small imperfections—the way a slight fracture in the music could resonate with the cracks in a person’s soul, giving them the courage to confront their own pain. The room felt heavy with unspoken sorrow, yet somehow lighter, too, as if each note was drawing out a little of the darkness from within. And as he continued to sing, Jeongin allowed himself to feel the weight of his own grief, letting it pour into the song, knowing that sometimes, in the quiet beauty of shared pain, there was a kind of healing.

Moments later, a soft sob broke the fragile silence. The young woman's face crumpled as she brought a trembling hand to her mouth, tears spilling down her cheeks in rivulets that caught the light. Jeongin’s heart ached for her, a deep, familiar pain unfurling in his chest. His mind flashed back to countless moments where he had seen that same expression etched across your own face—the anguish, the vulnerability. But he didn’t stop playing. Instead, he allowed the melody to swell, his fingers coaxing the guitar strings through the dark waters of sorrow and guiding them back toward a glimmer of hope, like a lighthouse in a storm.

“Let it out,” he murmured, his voice a soft, comforting undertone to the music. “There’s no need to hold back here.” His words were a gentle invitation, a permission to release the emotions that had been held back for far too long. And as if on cue, the room filled with the raw sounds of grief—soft, stifled sobs, muffled cries, the quiet sniffles of those who had long forgotten how to weep openly. Jeongin continued to play, his music becoming a vessel for their pain, a safe harbor where tears could flow without shame or judgment. 

Across the circle, he caught a glimpse of the elderly man, his head bowed low, his lips quivering as he mouthed the words of the song. His eyes were squeezed shut, as if trying to ward off a memory too painful to face. Jeongin’s gaze softened, and he let the melody shift, his fingers moving with practiced ease into something softer, gentler—like a lull after the fury of a storm. Each note was deliberate, a quiet caress to soothe the raw edges of the room's collective sorrow. He watched as the weight of grief began to lift, ever so slightly, and the room took a deep breath, exhaling the heaviness that had clung to them like a shadow.

When the final note faded into the stillness, Jeongin let the silence settle, heavy but not suffocating. He set his guitar down gently, his eyes meeting each person’s in turn, offering a silent acknowledgment of their pain. “Thank you for sharing this space with me,” he said, his voice a soft balm even as his own heart bore the scars of past regrets. Too often did Jeongin lose sleep over how he, despite his profession, had failed to help you through your own grief. “Grief is heavy, but together, we can carry it, even if just for a moment.”

The young woman wiped at her tears, her face still etched with the rawness of her emotions, but in her eyes, there was a faint spark—a glimmer of relief, as if, for the first time in a long while, she felt a little less alone. The elderly man’s shoulders sagged, a heavy breath escaping his lips, as though a burden had been lifted, if only for a moment. Jeongin offered a small, gentle smile, a subtle curve of his lips that spoke of understanding and quiet encouragement. He picked up his guitar again, fingers brushing against the strings with a familiar, comforting touch.

“How about we end with something light?” he suggested, strumming a few upbeat chords, his eyes brightening with a hint of mischief. “Maybe a song that reminds us of hope. Even when it’s hard to see, it’s always there… waiting for us.” His words hung in the air like a promise, a tender reminder that there was light even in the darkest of places.

And so, with his voice soft but steady, Jeongin led them into another song—one that spoke of healing, of finding strength in the most shattered places, and of a quiet, enduring joy that could bloom even in the darkest seasons of life. This was a song Jeongin had written and composed in the wake of your absence, in the silence that followed your sudden departure. It was a song born of hope, crafted in those long months of not knowing, a song he had always dreamed of sharing with you. And as he sang, he let that hope fill the room, weaving through the notes, a quiet, resilient thread that held the promise of brighter days.

Nearly thirty minutes had passed since the group therapy session had officially ended, but Jeongin's office was still filled with the quiet shuffling of his patients gradually making their way out. This wasn't unusual; some of them often lingered, seeking a few more moments to connect or share their thoughts, and Jeongin never minded. He found these moments invaluable—an opportunity to touch base, to offer a final bit of encouragement or reassurance. 

As Jeongin turned to watch the last patient leave, he was surprised to find his friend Changbin leaning against the doorframe. Changbin’s muscular arms were crossed over his broad chest, his eyes twinkling with a mix of admiration and amusement. A soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and it only grew wider when Jeongin’s gaze finally met his. "Bin," Jeongin greeted with a slight bow, his dimples appearing as he returned his friend's smile. He moved toward his desk on the opposite end of the room, a space that served as both his office and a therapy room within the clinic.

Without waiting for an invitation, Changbin followed him, settling himself comfortably into the leather chair meant for Jeongin. With a roll of his eyes and a shake of his head, Jeongin let out a small huff of amusement at his friend's antics. He took a seat in one of the smaller chairs intended for his patients, his gaze fixed on Changbin. "What are you doing here?" Jeongin finally asked, watching his friend lounging back in the chair, hands interlocked casually behind his head.

Changbin's playful demeanor slowly shifted, his eyes losing their mischievous spark as they settled into something more serious. He sighed, leaning forward to rest his forearms on Jeongin's desk, the sudden shift in atmosphere making Jeongin's heart pick up a little in pace. He tried to keep his expression soft, maintaining a small smile even as he braced himself for whatever Changbin had come to say.

For a moment, the room was filled with a heavy silence as Changbin seemed to struggle with his words, his brows furrowing in thought. Finally, he cleared his throat and spoke, "You know how Yongbok and Hannie wanted to have a joint celebration for their birthdays this Friday, right?" Jeongin's brows knit together in confusion; he hadn’t expected such a mundane topic. Still, he nodded, waiting for the real reason behind Changbin's visit.

"Well, everything will be pretty much the same... but we wanted to tell you this before you showed up." Changbin paused, his worried eyes meeting Jeongin's increasingly anxious gaze. After a deep breath, he continued, "Y/N moved back here a little over a week ago and reached out to us almost immediately. We helped them settle back down, and we've been spending some time with them, catching up on everything. Yongbok and Hannie wanted them to be included in their birthday celebration, but we also wanted to check in with you. Make sure you're okay with that first."

Jeongin felt his entire world tilt on its axis, Changbin's words crashing into him like a wave he hadn’t braced for. A million questions stormed through his mind, so fast and furious that he couldn’t quite grasp a single one. "Wait." His hand shot up, signaling his need for a pause as he shifted forward, perching on the edge of his chair. His voice, tinged with betrayal and hurt, spilled out in a rushed breath, "What do you mean Y/N moved back here a week ago? Why am I just learning about this now?"

A look of guilt shadowed Changbin's face, his expression softening with regret. "Y/N asked us not to tell you for a little bit because they weren't ready to handle it yet... but now that everything's settled, they have a new job and everything—Y/N is ready to meet with you if you'd like." He hesitated, and a flicker of panic widened his eyes as he quickly added, "But you didn't hear that last part from me. Y/N wanted to be the one to reach out at some point today or tomorrow."

The silence that followed was heavy, all-consuming, wrapping around Jeongin like a thick fog. He struggled to wrap his mind around the news of your return, the idea of seeing you again so unexpectedly unsettling. The weight of your absence, the questions left unanswered, all resurfaced in that single moment, leaving him adrift in a sea of emotions he wasn’t prepared to face.

Jeongin didn't quite know how to feel about you moving back into town after leaving him without so much as a goodbye. The news of your return stirred a storm of emotions within him, each one more complicated than the last. On one hand, he understood your reasons for leaving—the desperate need to escape from everything that reminded you of your younger sister, Nari, and the weight of your relationship with him, which had grown heavy with grief and unresolved pain. He could see why you had to flee, to distance yourself from the memories that clung to every corner of the town like shadows that wouldn't let you breathe. 

But understanding didn't erase the sting of abandonment. Jeongin couldn't ignore the countless sleepless nights he’d endured, his mind spiraling into an abyss of what-ifs and could-have-beens. He thought back to the moments when your relationship had still felt beautiful and safe, long before it had quietly begun to crumble beneath the weight of tragedy. In truth, he realized, the love between you had started to fray the very moment you received the devastating news of Nari’s fatal accident. It had unraveled slowly, painfully, until there was nothing left but a hollow shell of what once was. By the time he officially ended things, the love you shared had already been gone, replaced by a haunting emptiness.

For months after you left, Jeongin had nearly driven himself to madness, caught in a vicious cycle of regret and self-blame. Every waking moment was spent agonizing over all the different ways he might have pulled you out of your grief. Could he have said something different, done something more? Could he have been more patient, more understanding? He had replayed these thoughts over and over, like a broken record stuck on a painful refrain. There was a time when he couldn’t even look at his own reflection without being reminded of his failure—his inability to be the anchor you needed in the storm of your sorrow. He blamed himself for your sudden departure, believing that if he had fought for you a little harder, if he had held on just a bit longer, maybe things would have turned out differently.

Slowly, though, Jeongin had begun to emerge from the shadows of his own grief. He had started to come to terms with the loss—not just of Nari, whom he had loved deeply through you, but also the loss of the future he had imagined with you by his side. He’d begun to accept that his own heartbreak, mixed with the suffocating weight of guilt, was something he needed to release in order to move forward. Jeongin had finally allowed himself to realize that in the grand scheme of things, staying by your side would have meant losing himself in the process, trying to bring back a version of you that had vanished the day Nari did. He’d come to understand that you were never going to be the same person again, and neither was he.

And now, just when he was starting to find a semblance of peace, you chose this moment to step back into his life. It felt like the ground he had just managed to steady himself on was beginning to shake once more. Jeongin wasn’t sure if he was ready to face you again, to reopen wounds that were only just beginning to scar over. Yet, there was also a flicker of something else—a hope, perhaps, or maybe just curiosity—about what this new chapter could bring. But whatever it was, it left him feeling unsettled, standing on the precipice of a past he had tried so hard to leave behind.

As his mind continued to swirl with a torrent of thoughts, Jeongin was startled by the bitterness that began to simmer beneath the surface of his heart. The resentment was unexpected, an emotion so potent that it almost frightened him. It clawed at him, leaving a sour taste in his mouth, a stark contrast to the calm demeanor he usually carried. But as his gaze lifted, his eyes locked with Changbin's, and he saw the concern etched in his friend's face. The anxiety in Changbin's sincere eyes was unmistakable, quietly tracking the cascade of emotions that flickered across Jeongin's vulnerable features like a storm passing through. 

Despite the sharp sting of betrayal—the feeling of being kept in the dark by his closest friends, who had not only hidden your return from him but also lied to him so they could spend time with you—Jeongin found a small measure of solace in Changbin’s quiet empathy. It was as if Changbin's presence anchored him, a silent reassurance that he wasn’t navigating these turbulent waters alone. In that brief moment, Jeongin’s chaotic thoughts cleared enough for him to take a deep, steadying breath. He slumped back into his chair, his eyes dropping to his sneakers, suddenly feeling the weight of his own exhaustion. His shoulders sagged, heavy with the burden of emotions he could no longer ignore.

"I don’t know if I’ll be ready to meet with Y/N before the party," Jeongin confessed in a low murmur meant only for Changbin’s ears. The sadness in his voice was unmistakable, a raw and tender ache that clung to every word. He took a moment, trying to gather his thoughts that seemed to scatter like leaves in the wind. "But I’m not going to stand in the way of Y/N joining the birthday party—especially since it’s not my place to decide that. I’ll still be there, and I want to be as civil as possible. So, please, don’t let anyone make it more awkward than it needs to be, or I don’t think I’ll be able to handle it."

His voice trembled by the end, his courage wavering as he finally lifted his eyes to meet Changbin's once more. There was a flicker of something fragile there, something almost hopeful, despite the tangled mess of his emotions. Changbin nodded, a soft smile pulling at his lips, a small gesture of gratitude and understanding. He stood up, moving closer to lay a firm, reassuring hand on Jeongin’s shoulder—a rare show of affection, knowing how Jeongin tended to shy away from touch, especially when his emotions were laid bare like this.

"I’ll talk to the boys," Changbin promised, his voice steady, grounding. It was the most he could offer in that moment, aware of how delicate the situation was. 

With that, Changbin turned and quietly exited Jeongin's office, leaving the younger man alone with his thoughts. The room seemed to close in around him, heavy with the weight of everything he was yet to fully comprehend. Jeongin remained seated, lost in the labyrinth of his own complicated emotions—anger, sadness, regret, and something else, something almost like a glimmer of hope—all swirling together in a chaotic dance that he had no idea how to untangle.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

In the three days leading up to the eagerly awaited joint birthday party on Friday—an event hosted by Chan for Felix and Jisung—Jeongin found himself ensnared in a relentless spiral of anxiety and anticipation. The looming prospect of encountering you after nearly a year of absence gnawed at him with a persistence that bordered on torment. He grappled with a thousand imagined scenarios, each one an intricate tapestry of potential outcomes and emotional landmines. The uncertainty was a constant, unsettling presence in his life.

Jeongin’s small apartment, once shared with you, had become a labyrinth of memories and regrets. He often wandered its confines, the soft thud of his footsteps a mournful echo of the unease that had taken residence in his chest. The apartment seemed to sigh with each step he took, as if mourning the lost echoes of a time when you had been there. Despite his efforts to bury himself in work, the thought of you lingered like an unwelcome shadow, a constant undercurrent that refused to be ignored. He would catch himself staring at his phone, repeatedly re-reading the message you had sent him just hours after Changbin’s visit—a message that had become both a lifeline and a tormentor.

Your text, which read: 

Hey, Jeongin. It’s been a while. I know I left without much of an explanation and cut off contact... I’m sorry for how I handled things. I’m sorry for a lot of things, actually. But I wasn’t in the best place back then, and I needed time to figure things out on my own. I’m back in town now, and I’d like to talk sometime if you’re open to it. No pressure—I just feel like there are a lot of things that were left unsaid between us. Take care!

Every time Jeongin read these words, a storm of emotions would churn within him. The initial formality of your greeting felt like a cold draft from a distant past, a stark contrast to the warmth that had once existed between you. The passage of time loomed large, a reminder of the endless stretch of days that had passed since your sudden disappearance. He was struck by a poignant blend of nostalgia and pain, the abruptness of your departure a constant reminder of how unfinished your story had been.

Your apology, though a balm of sorts, stirred a complicated mix of relief and frustration within him. On one hand, it acknowledged the hurt you had caused, but on the other, it left a multitude of unresolved questions hanging in the air. Why did you leave so suddenly? Why did you sever all contact? Jeongin understood that you were not in a good place and needed space, but that understanding did little to soothe the sting of abandonment he felt. The sense of being left in the dark, coupled with a profound sadness over his inability to help you, left him grappling with a blend of guilt and anger.

The mention of wanting to talk now jolted him, a surge of conflicting emotions rushing to the surface. He was torn between the desire to reconnect and the fear of reopening old wounds. The prospect of addressing the myriad of things left unsaid between you brought with it a flood of memories—regrets, unresolved issues, and a yearning for closure. Each re-reading of your message plunged him deeper into a whirlpool of complicated thoughts and emotions, the turbulence of his feelings both paralyzing and consuming.

Ultimately, Jeongin found himself unable to craft a suitable response, and so he chose silence. His decision not to reply was one shrouded in uncertainty, a choice that left him questioning whether it was the right one. The silence that followed was both a refuge and a torment, a delicate balance between preserving his own peace and the unresolved echo of your return.

The night of the party arrived under a canopy of crisp, clear sky, the stars shimmering with an almost mocking brilliance. Jeongin drifted through the evening like a specter, his senses overwhelmed by a world that seemed too bright, too noisy, and far too indifferent to his turmoil. His apartment, once a sanctuary, had become a chaotic jumble of discarded outfits—each one cast aside with a frustrated sigh and a sense of resignation. The fabric of his clothes lay strewn about like the remnants of a battle fought and lost against his own anxiety. Nothing felt right, and the more he tried, the more he was convinced that nothing ever would.

Eventually, he settled on a modest ensemble—simple, unobtrusive, and devoid of any hint of personal flair. As he dressed, he glanced at his reflection in the mirror, and what he saw was a stranger staring back—an image of confusion and trepidation. He attempted a smile, one that was supposed to be confident and reassuring, but it fell flat, a mere shadow of what he hoped to project. By the time he arrived at Chan's place, his nerves were a live wire, sparking and fizzing with every heartbeat.

The apartment, already abuzz with the lively hum of music and the warm murmur of laughter, was suffused with the rich, inviting aroma of a feast. Jeongin took a deep breath, steeling himself before stepping into the vibrant chaos. Felix, ever the beacon of warmth, was the first to greet him. His smile was a radiant crescent, eyes sparkling with the playful twinkle of a galaxy etched upon his cheeks and nose. Felix enveloped Jeongin in a tight, enthusiastic hug, and Jeongin could almost gauge the number of drinks Felix had indulged in by the exuberance of the embrace. As he disentangled himself from the fervent welcome, he was met with a slew of half-hidden concern and reassuring smiles that nearly suffocated him with their well-meaning pity.

He made his way to the kitchen, where the counter was a tableau of gifts—boxes and bags for Felix and Han piled high in cheerful disarray. Jeongin added his own contribution to the heap and then sought refuge in the cool solace of the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water to soothe his parched throat. But then, as if fate itself had conspired to make this night even more unbearable, you appeared in the kitchen doorway.

You had been laughing lightly, a melodic sound that seemed to dance on the air, but upon spotting Jeongin, you froze mid-step. The sight of you was like a flash of brilliance in an otherwise dim landscape. You looked as radiant as ever, with a glimmer of the light that had once illuminated your eyes returning to them—a light Jeongin had once lost himself in with reckless abandon. At that moment, the gravity of his own emotions hit him with a brutal clarity. Despite having ended the relationship, he realized with a heavy heart that he was still desperately, achingly in love with you. Even after nearly a year of separation, the feelings remain undiminished.

You slowly composed yourself, though your body remained taut with the remnants of surprise. The smile you gave him was both disarming and electrifying, sending a shiver through him. With a polite bow, you greeted him, your voice soft and warm as you said, “I’m really glad to see you again, Jeongin.” The way you spoke his name made his knees feel weak, the sheer depth of his longing crystallizing in that single, familiar sound. He had not fully grasped how much he had yearned to hear his name on your lips again until that very moment.

Unable to find words, Jeongin merely bowed in return, his smile shy and tremulous. He watched you turn and leave the kitchen with a hurried pace, your earlier purpose forgotten. The realization dawned on him that he might need more than just water to navigate the emotional maelstrom of the evening.

Chan's party was a sanctuary of familiarity, a gathering of a close-knit circle of friends who had weathered years together. The night had unfolded in a haze of laughter and lively banter, and now, as Jeongin found himself pleasantly intoxicated from the endless rounds of drinking games, he couldn't help but revel in the camaraderie that had once again enveloped the room. It felt undeniably comforting to have everyone gathered under one roof again, especially you.

The past year had cast a shadow over the group's dynamic, your absence an unspoken void that lingered between them, palpable despite the silence. Yet now, with your return, the room seemed to breathe with a renewed vitality. It was as though the very air had shifted, carrying with it a sense of ease that had been sorely missed. Jeongin observed you from a distance, his gaze drawn to you as you reengaged with the group. He noted with quiet awe how you moved through conversations with an effortless grace, the same grace that had once been your hallmark.

It was apparent that you had emerged from the clutches of your grief, a revelation that stirred a profound admiration within Jeongin. The way you laughed, genuinely and freely, was a testament to your resilience. Though you had left without a word, seeking solace far away, you had returned with a newfound lightness. The laughter that now danced from your lips was a melody Jeongin had missed, a balm for the aching absence that had haunted him throughout the past year.

Jeongin watched with a bittersweet smile as you engaged with everyone—how your eyes crinkled at the corners when joy sparked within you, how they would occasionally meet his gaze with a fleeting, shy acknowledgment before darting away, leaving behind a gentle blush. Each moment was a delicate brush stroke on the canvas of your reunion, painting a picture of someone who had found a way to heal and reconnect.

The sight of you dancing playfully with Han to a song you both claimed had been crafted just for you was particularly poignant. Your movements were a symphony of carefree delight, a stark contrast to the somber image Jeongin had harbored of you. In these shared, joyful moments, as you reintegrated into the tapestry of old friendships, Jeongin felt his heart tugged with an intensity that defied explanation.

Though the effects of alcohol swirled around him, amplifying emotions and blurring the edges of reality, Jeongin knew that the depth of his feelings for you transcended any inebriation. The love he harbored was as real and potent as ever, a force that no amount of alcohol could replicate or diminish. He was falling for you once more, each glance and shared laugh reaffirming the connection that had never truly faded, only waiting for the right moment to reawaken.

Despite the undeniable truth of his lingering affection for you, Jeongin remained uncertain of how to navigate these turbulent emotions. For now, he chose to keep his feelings veiled in silence, retreating into the solitude of his thoughts. The haze of confusion was abruptly dispelled by the firm, reassuring weight of Minho’s hand settling on his shoulder, grounding him in the present moment.

Minho, his eyes glazed with the soft blur of alcohol—though not nearly as intoxicated as Felix and Han—clapped his hands together, a signal for attention. His voice, amplified by cupped hands, cut through the ambient noise of music and conversation. "Guys! Guys!" he bellowed, drawing the attention of the increasingly inebriated crowd. The room fell into a collective hush, eager eyes fixed on Minho as he continued with a grin that spoke of mischief. "As per Yongbok’s request, we’re about to kick off a game of UNO! But there’s a twist: every time someone lands a Plus Four card, we all take a shot. And the loser—well, they get a revolting concoction of mixed alcohols and juices!"

The announcement ignited a burst of enthusiastic cheers, the crowd’s energy crackling with anticipation. Laughter and playful shoves accompanied the clumsy shuffle to the circular coffee table at the heart of the living room. Jeongin, with a flicker of hope in his heart, watched as you navigated the sea of friends. His wish to have you beside him was met with a hint of disappointment as you chose a seat directly across from him, nestled between Hyunjin and Seungmin.

The seating arrangement became a familiar circle of camaraderie and chaos: You directly across from Jeongin, Seungmin to your right, Chan to Seungmin’s right, Felix to Chan’s right, Jeongin to Felix’s right, Minho to Jeongin’s right, Han to Minho’s right, Changbin to Hyunjin’s right, and Hyunjin bridging the gap between you and Changbin. The table soon overflowed with the raucous sound of drunken laughter, mischievous plotting, and playful bickering.

Jeongin found himself in an unexpected streak of triumph, his luck seemingly endless as he conquered each round of UNO. The others began to whisper suspicions of cheating, their playful accusations accompanied by slurred speech and tipsy frustration. Chan’s voice, tinged with exasperation, rose above the din. "How is it even possible that you’ve been winning non-stop?" he demanded, his words distorted by a chorus of drinks and Seungmin’s relentless strategy.

Jeongin rolled his eyes, a gesture that had become almost automatic in the face of such claims. Han, who had just suffered the fate of the foul concoction, gagged dramatically as he placed the empty cup down with a groan. The room’s attention shifted to you as you slammed your palm onto the table, a spark of mischief lighting up your eyes. The gesture was a beacon of playful challenge, and it made Jeongin’s heart flutter unexpectedly.

"Stand up then, if you’re not cheating," you teased, your voice laced with both suspicion and amusement. The room buzzed with agreement, and Jeongin could not suppress the smile that tugged at his lips as he rose to his feet. He had sobered somewhat since the game began, the action feeling less consequential for him than for the others.

Throughout the night, the games were interspersed with moments of easy banter between you and Jeongin, a reminder of the lighthearted days before the heartache had set in. Each playful remark, every shared glance, and the way you laughed at his jokes tugged at him, rekindling memories of warmth and affection. The realization of how deeply he missed the feeling of being in love with you clenched his heart painfully.

As Jeongin turned around slowly to prove his hands were empty, he couldn’t resist a smirk. "You didn’t empty out your pockets," you persisted, your stubbornness both charming and exasperating.

He met your gaze with a playful smirk of his own, the words slipping out before he could fully process their impact. "Come on, baby, don’t be like that," he said, his tone teasing.

The room fell silent in stunned unison, the playful atmosphere abruptly shifting to one of surprise and second-hand embarrassment. The weight of Jeongin’s unintended endearment hung in the air, leaving everyone, including him, to grapple with the sudden shift in the night’s delicate balance.

Jeongin’s heart sank as he watched the color drain from your face, a pallor of shock and disbelief that spoke volumes in the charged silence that followed. The name he had unintentionally let slip—a relic of a time when you were together—seemed to strike a chord deep within you. For a fleeting moment, your eyes revealed a heartache that cut through the pretense of composure you so desperately tried to maintain. The expression of hurt was almost palpable, like a silent scream against the fabric of the night.

You managed to reassemble yourself with a stubborn facade of mischief, your smile a delicate mask that barely concealed the storm within. Your words, though laced with playful banter, seemed to cut through the tension with a sharp edge. "I just think it's unnatural how many times you’ve won," you remarked with a smirk that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Jeongin’s slip-up hung in the air, a tangible weight that seemed to sour the atmosphere of the gathering. Despite your attempt to downplay the incident with a light-hearted quip, the sting of the old nickname echoed like a ghost of past intimacy, making the room feel suddenly foreign and strained. The previously buoyant mood had shifted, leaving behind an undercurrent of unease that neither the laughter nor the playful jabs could dispel.

Jeongin could feel the churning turmoil within him, his heart pounding relentlessly in his chest. The game continued around him, but he found himself withdrawing, purposefully avoiding your gaze. Each stolen glance, each forced smile, was a reminder of the painful reminder of how things had changed. The night, which had started with such promise, now felt heavy and laden with unresolved emotions.

As the hour grew late and the laughter waned, the group, sensing the shift in energy, collectively decided it was time to call it a night. The revelry that had marked the evening dissolved into a subdued murmur as everyone prepared to leave. For Jeongin, the end of the night came as a relief, though it was tinged with a sense of lingering regret and an unspoken wish for things to be different.

As Jeongin made his way through the dimly lit apartment, exchanging farewells with the departing guests, he caught a fleeting glimpse of you darting out of the building. His heart, already heavy with a tumultuous mix of emotions, quickened its pace as he instinctively sought to follow. With an urgency driven by both concern and an aching need to make things right, Jeongin scrambled to retrieve his jacket and pull on his shoes, the night air already beginning to bite at his skin as he hurried after you.

He managed to intercept you just as you stepped out onto the cold street. Your name slipped from his lips before he could catch it, a desperate utterance that hung in the frosty air between you. You paused, your breath visible in the night’s chill, and both of you stood there for a moment, hearts racing in unison. Jeongin's breath came in ragged bursts as he caught up with you, the weight of his impulsive actions settling heavily on his shoulders.

“Let me walk you home,” Jeongin implored, his voice trembling slightly with a mixture of anxiety and hope. The words, simple yet laden with his longing, seemed to hang in the air, as though the night itself held its breath in anticipation of your response. Your eyes softened, reflecting a tempest of emotions as they met his, and your lips parted slightly as if struggling to find the right words.

Instead of speaking, you turned and began walking forward, your steps deliberate yet hesitant. Jeongin, interpreting your silence as tacit consent, fell into step beside you. The street stretched out before you, unfamiliar and shadowed, and the air between you was charged with unspoken sentiments and lingering regrets. Walking side by side felt oddly reminiscent of days gone by, a bittersweet echo of times shared with friends, now tinged with the ache of what had been lost.

In the week since Jeongin learned of your return, he had been trapped in a cycle of conflicting emotions. The pangs of missing you, of realizing the depth of his feelings that still burned despite everything, battled with the frustration of your unexplained departure. Each time anger threatened to overwhelm him, guilt swiftly followed, a reminder of the suffering you must have endured. His internal struggle was a storm of longing and resentment, a turbulent sea he had yet to navigate.

As he stole glances at your profile in the dim streetlight, the familiar contours of your face brought an unexpected rush of grief. Memories of your younger sister, Nari, flooded his mind—her laughter, a joyful sound that once filled the air, her enthusiastic embraces that had always greeted him with warmth. Your eyes, once so bright with shared mirth, now seemed dimmed by her absence.

The realization that Nari would never again tackle him in playful greeting, that her laughter would never again ring out, was a heavy burden. It pressed down on Jeongin’s heart, a reminder of the irreplaceable void left behind. The twinkle that once danced in your eyes when you laughed at Nari's jokes was now a distant memory, a reminder of how deeply her loss had affected both of you. As you walked together through the unfamiliar streets, the weight of these lost joys seemed to bear down on Jeongin, making each step feel heavier than the last.

Engulfed in the whirlpool of his own somber reflections, Jeongin barely noticed when you came to a halt before an old, weathered apartment building. Absorbed in his tumultuous thoughts, he continued forward for a few steps, his mind adrift in a sea of regret and longing. It was only when the melodic sound of your giggle reached his ears, a playful echo that cut through the fog of his melancholy, that he realized he was walking alone. With a start, he turned, his face flushing with a sheepish smile as he moved to stand before you.

You were standing there, your knuckles clenched tightly around the strap of your bag, a telltale sign of the anxiety simmering beneath the surface. Your lips were caught between your teeth, a nervous habit that Jeongin had come to know all too well. The sight of your distress mirrored his own internal turmoil, causing his foot to tap restlessly on the pavement as he waited for you to speak. The tension in the air was palpable, a heavy shroud that seemed to settle between you.

After a few moments of strained silence, you released a shaky breath and offered him a small, timid smile. "It was good to see you again," you said softly, the words tinged with a trace of the anxiety that laced your voice. It was the same sentiment you had voiced earlier in the night, when you had first reappeared in Chan's kitchen after an eight-month absence.

This time, Jeongin’s response came with a gravity that reflected the depth of your absence. "I’m glad you came back," he said, his voice carrying the weight of the months spent apart, yet softened by a flicker of genuine contentment.

Your smile, though hesitant, shone brightly against the backdrop of the night. It was a beacon that pierced through the haze of Jeongin’s heartache, and despite the unresolved tension, he couldn’t help but return it with a warm, albeit uncertain, smile of his own. The air between you crackled with the weight of unspoken words and unresolved feelings, a delicate balance between the urge to bridge the gap and the inability to articulate the depth of your emotions.

As you cast an awkward glance back at the entrance of your apartment, Jeongin understood that you were grappling with the same indecision that plagued him. "This is me," you said, your voice betraying a trace of nervousness as you cleared your throat. "My place is a bit of a distance from our—sorry, your apartment. If you’re comfortable, I can offer you my couch for the night."

Despite the initial reluctance that had gripped him, the prospect of spending more time with you, however fleeting, was too inviting to resist. Jeongin found himself smiling softly, a gesture of acceptance that was both hesitant and heartfelt. Your genuine, wide smile in response seemed to illuminate the night, lifting the veil of uncertainty that had surrounded him. With a renewed sense of hope and a lingering trace of longing, Jeongin followed you inside, each step towards your apartment a tentative step towards mending the fragile thread that connected your hearts.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Your new apartment, though modest in size, exudes a quiet charm, nestled in a serene part of town far removed from the familiar streets you once traversed with Jeongin. The moment he crosses the threshold, he is enveloped by a dissonance of emotions—a strange fusion of comfort and estrangement. The space is distinctly different from the apartment you once shared, yet your presence lingers in every corner, making Jeongin feel both intimately connected and like an outsider peering into a world that has shifted just out of reach.

The living room, modestly furnished, reflects a minimalist elegance. A soft, neutral-colored couch rests against the wall, draped with a knitted throw blanket that adds a touch of warmth. This room is a far cry from the eclectic mix of your past home—a space once filled with a vibrant blend of your belongings and his—but it still bears the subtle imprint of your personality. A small shelf brims with books, many titles familiar from your old collection, but new ones have also appeared, whispering of the changes and growth you’ve experienced in your absence. The windowsill cradles a few houseplants, their greenery a delicate contrast to the sprawling flora that once filled your old living space. They are smaller, more contained, reflecting a more subdued chapter of your life.

Jeongin’s gaze drifts to the walls, bare and unadorned, stark in their emptiness. Gone are the framed photos and art prints that once animated every corner of your shared apartment. The absence of pictures—particularly those of the two of you—leaves an unexpected sting, a painful reminder of what has been left behind. Instead, there is a single framed photograph of your younger sister on a side table by the window, surrounded by a cluster of candles. It stands as a quiet tribute, a poignant memorial that tugs at Jeongin’s heartstrings, reminding him of the grief that ultimately drove a wedge between you both.

The apartment is imbued with a subdued quietness, a stark contrast to the lively energy of your former home, where laughter and soft music once intertwined to create a vibrant ambiance. Here, the atmosphere is more solitary, introspective, as if the space has been intentionally crafted as a sanctuary for healing—a refuge from the chaos of the past. A small kitchen table, cluttered with a few empty glasses and a half-read book, suggests many solitary evenings spent with your thoughts, lost in the pages or gazing into the distance, ensnared by memories.

The kitchen itself bears no evidence of the late-night culinary adventures you used to drag him into, those joyous moments of laughter and flour-covered countertops. As Jeongin takes in the scene, he is overwhelmed by a complex weave of emotions—nostalgia for what was, sorrow for what has been lost, and a poignant ache for the version of you who now stands before him. The differences are striking, revealing a careful, deliberate solitude you’ve constructed around yourself in this new space. It feels as though you’ve created a bubble of tranquility, a place where you can breathe freely from the weight of the past, and he wonders if there is still a place for him within it or if you have moved on to a new chapter without him.

The emptiness of your new apartment weighs heavily on him. It’s not merely the physical void but the absence of the vibrant, unfiltered you that he used to know. Standing there, a guest in what might have been his world, Jeongin is acutely aware of how much has changed and how deeply he still yearns for the comfort of what once was, now replaced by the stark reality of what is.

As Jeongin steps into your new apartment, he takes in its subtle details with a blend of curiosity and nostalgia. You move about with a quiet, almost anxious energy, as if the mere act of tidying is a way to manage the fluttering tension between you. Your hands, unsure of their purpose, engage in small, inconsequential tasks: smoothing the corner of the knitted blanket draped over the couch, adjusting the book that rests on the kitchen table, and shifting a houseplant slightly to the left. It is evident that you are aware of his gaze, but you strive to give him space to absorb his surroundings.

The silence stretches until you break it, your voice soft yet resolute. "It's not much, but... it's mine." There’s a delicate balance in your tone, a mixture of pride laced with vulnerability. You glance at him, seeking to gauge his reaction, your eyes reflecting a world of untold emotions. As you move towards the small kitchen area, you open a cabinet and retrieve two glasses. "Do you want some water? Tea? I think I have some wine if you'd prefer that." Your words tumble out in a gentle stream, an attempt to fill the quiet with something tangible, yet they carry an earnestness that reveals your underlying uncertainty about where you both stand.

Jeongin watches you, his gaze softening as he observes the careful grace of your movements—each gesture imbued with a quiet protectiveness, as if you're safeguarding something tender within yourself. The silence deepens for a moment before he responds, his voice subdued and tentative. "Water's fine." It is clear that he is navigating this new terrain with caution, his tone reflective of the delicate balance between past familiarity and present distance. You nod and move towards the fridge, your back turned to him as you pour the water.

Jeongin’s eyes wander around the apartment once more, deliberately avoiding the back of your head as you focus on the task at hand. When you hand him the glass, your fingers brush against his, sending a shiver through him. It’s a sensation he’s not quite accustomed to after all this time apart. He accepts the glass with a quiet "thanks," savoring the cool water as it soothes his dry throat. 

"Let’s sit," you suggest, motioning towards the couch. There is a steadiness in your voice that carries a quiet confidence, reminiscent of the times you had managed to ground him amidst the chaos. Jeongin follows you and settles beside you on the couch. The cushions feel foreign and different from those he remembers, amplifying his sense of longing for the comfort of the home you once shared. 

For a brief moment, Jeongin is at a loss for words, overwhelmed by the tangled emotions in his chest. He is unsure where to begin, but you gently ease the tension. "How’s work been?" you inquire, your voice a soothing balm to the heaviness in the room. "Are you still at the same clinic?" 

Grateful for the opening, Jeongin nods. "Yeah, still there. We started a new program recently... working with kids who've been through some really tough stuff. It’s been challenging, but rewarding." He watches as your eyes soften, a sign of the empathy and kindness he’s always admired in you. The sight of your genuine smile, the one he’s missed so dearly, is like a balm on a wound that has long ached. 

"That sounds so nice. You've always been so good with children." Your compliment is heartfelt, and Jeongin feels a pang of longing.

He responds with a light-hearted joke, "That’s more your area of expertise," referring to your work as a school counselor. You chuckle softly, taking a sip of water, and Jeongin senses there’s more you wish to share.

"And... what about everything else? How have you been holding up?" Your question is gentle but probing, and Jeongin’s grip tightens around his glass.

"It’s been... different," he admits. "The apartment feels empty without you there. Like something’s missing."

Jeongin hadn't intended for his words to emerge with such raw intensity, but they tumble out before he can rein them in. He watches as they land upon you, the way your gaze falls and a shadow of sorrow flits across your face. "I'm sorry," you murmur, the words almost lost in the quiet of the room. "For leaving like that. I didn’t know what else to do."

Your apology strikes a chord deep within him, a resonance of shared pain and regret. "I know," he replies softly, his voice carrying the weight of understanding. "I don’t really blame you. We both had to figure things out." The atmosphere between you shifts, the earlier tension giving way to something more tender—like an old wound beginning to mend. 

Jeongin sits beside you on the couch, his nerves stretched taut, a wire humming with unspoken words. His hands are clenched in his lap, a desperate attempt to hold himself together as the silence stretches, thick and heavy. His gaze is drawn to you, to the way you hold your glass of water—fingers wrapped around it as if it were a lifeline, anchoring you to some semblance of normalcy. 

He recognizes that look in your eyes—the one that signals you are about to reveal something profound, something that has been weighing on you. "When I left," you start, your voice so faint it nearly dissolves into the air. Jeongin’s breath catches in his throat. He had no clear expectations for the evening, but he can feel that whatever is coming will be laced with pain.

"I didn’t really have a plan," you continue, your voice trembling with the weight of your confession. "I just... needed to get away." He watches as your eyes drift to the water in your glass, your reflection shimmering and distorted. The impulse to reach out and offer comfort is almost overwhelming, but he remains still, his focus entirely on you.

"I ended up halfway across the country," you say, your voice gaining a faint thread of strength. "I reached out to Lily. You remember her, right? From college?" Jeongin nods, a wistful smile tugging at his lips despite the ache in his chest. He recalls Lily’s vivacious spirit, her constant care for you, and feels a pang of gratitude that she was there for you in a way he couldn't be.

"She didn’t ask questions; she just told me to come," you add. Jeongin’s heart clenches at the image of you in a strange, distant place, the weight of your grief looming like an oppressive storm. He loathes the thought of you feeling so alone and adrift, needing to travel so far for solace.

"She lives in this tiny coastal town," you continue, your voice lightening slightly as you recall the memory. "For a while, I thought maybe that was what I needed—being somewhere far away from everything." Jeongin can almost visualize it—a serene seaside town where the waves gently erase footprints, a place where time seems to stretch indefinitely, offering a balm for the wounded soul.

Yet, beneath the surface of your words, Jeongin senses an undercurrent of dissatisfaction. The coastal retreat, while soothing, evidently fell short of the healing you sought. His heart aches, burdened by the realization that he wasn’t able to provide the support you needed, even as he too was grappling with his own struggles. The distance between your shared past and the present feels vast, and he yearns for a way to bridge that gap, to be the anchor you needed, even though he was floundering himself.

You pause, and Jeongin watches as you swallow hard, the movement of your throat a testament to the weight of your words. "I eventually realized that it wasn't enough," you say, your voice trembling with the effort to hold back tears. "I needed more help. So, I checked myself into a grief recovery program..." The words falter, and Jeongin feels a tightening in his chest, the emotion reflected in your wavering tone. "A place where people go when they've lost someone and don't know how to keep living."

He stares at you, his vision blurring as he grapples with the magnitude of your suffering. He's known grief, but seeing it through your eyes—so raw, so utterly consuming—is a new experience for him. Guilt crashes over him like a relentless wave. He wasn't there for you. He couldn't help. He didn't even know how to begin.

Jeongin opens his mouth, an apology poised on his lips, but you continue, your voice cutting through the silence with a quiet determination. "There were days I wanted to leave, but I stayed. I wrote a lot. I planted a small garden there, just to feel like I was nurturing something again, you know? And slowly, I started to remember things without feeling like they were completely breaking me."

His hands tremble in his lap, the truth of your words stirring a deep regret within him. He should be happy that you found a way forward, relieved that you began to heal, but instead, he is overwhelmed by the ache of not being there for you—by the realization that he had abandoned you when you needed him most. His eyes search yours, desperate for some sign that you don’t harbor hatred towards him.

"I can't imagine what that must've been like," he finally manages, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry I ended things when you needed me. I didn’t know how to help you through it, and I—"

You shake your head, a wistful smile curving your lips. "I didn’t know how to let you help me, either. And I wasn’t ready to accept Nari’s death and move on yet. That’s why I left." Your words settle into the spaces between his ribs, a cold weight pressing heavily on his chest. He wants to explain, to tell you that he was lost too, that he struggled to keep his own head above water while watching you drown. But he stays silent, knowing that this moment belongs to you, just as much as it does to him.

"I needed to find a way to live with the grief," you say softly, "to not let it define every part of me. And maybe I needed to see if I could come back and face everything, including you."

Jeongin’s heart skips at that, a flicker of hope igniting within him. There is a softness in your eyes that he hasn't seen in so long, a hint of something that almost resembles hope. He takes a breath, feeling a slight loosening of the weight of his own regrets. "I'm glad you did," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "I missed you—missed this, even if it wasn’t always easy."

You nod, and he sees a myriad of emotions dance across your face—relief, uncertainty, and perhaps the faintest trace of affection. There is much to unpack, many layers to explore, but for now, this moment of quiet honesty, of shared pain and cautious hope, feels like a tentative step towards understanding.

Jeongin notices his hand is closer to yours than he had realized, and for a fleeting moment, he wonders what it would be like to reach out, to touch your skin once more. But he doesn’t. Not yet. For now, he is content to sit beside you, to listen, and to cherish the hope that this—whatever it is—might be the beginning of finding each other again.

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