Summary: After a frustrating day, Y/N meets Minho, a stranger who feels oddly familiar. Their connection moves quickly, but things take a mysterious turn when Han, a cryptic newcomer, inserts himself into their conversation with unsettling ease. As deja vu lingers, Y/N begins to wonder if their meeting was really just coincidence.
Part 1
Tag List: @eridanuswave
The rain didn’t stop.
Y/N watched the droplets race each other down the now fogged window as she absentmindedly traced the rim of her coffee cup with her finger. The cafe had emptied out slowly over the past hour, leaving only the soft hum of the espresso machine and the quiet shuffles of the barista cleaning and sweeping behind the counter.
Minho was still there, seated across from her, his jacket now draped lazily over the back of his chair. His eyes followed the patterns in the condensation on the glass window, as if the outside world held answers neither of them could put into words that made sense.
Han had left twenty minutes ago, disappearing with little more than a cryptic “See you soon,” and an infuriatingly knowing smile.
The silence stretched comfortably between them now–no forced conversation, no awkwardness, just a mutual understanding that neither of them wanted to leave each other’s presence just yet.
Y/N finally broke the silence. “Do you ever feel like….you’re waiting for something, but you don’t know what?”
Minho’s gaze shifted towards her, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah,” he said after a beat. “All the time.”
The answer came too easily to him, like it wasn’t just a casual admission but a confession of something deeper.
She studied him for a bit longer. His chocolate brown eyes were still warm, but distant, like he was only half-present, half-trapped in thoughts that he really didn’t want to voice.
“What brought you here?” She asked, nodding towards the window, the city outside becoming more and more obscured by the heavy downpour.
“The weather, mostly.” Minho smiled faintly, as though amused by the simplicity of his thinking. “I like the rain. It makes the world quieter.”
“Quieter?” Y/N echoed, tilting her head to the side.
“Yeah. Like everything slows down for a little while. It gives you space and time to think.” He leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms out lazily. “You? Why this cafe?”
Y/N shrugged. “It’s familiar. I used to come here when I first moved to the city. It felt safe and welcoming when everything else in my life was brand new and overwhelming.”
“Makes sense.” Minho said, his voice low, almost reverent. “Places like that will stick with you.”
Another moment of silence passed.
She cleared her throat, trying to shake off the strange weight lingering in the air. “So, you mentioned that you’re a dancer, right?”
His lips twitched into a real smile. “Yeah. Contemporary mostly, but I mess around with hip-hop when no one’s watching.”
“Do you perform?”
“Sometimes.” He said, his gaze dropping to the cup between his hands. “It’s more personal though. Less about the audience, more about what I’m trying to let go of.”
That surprised her. “You don’t seem like the type of person to have trouble letting things go.”
Minho looked up to meet her eyes, and for the first time since their meeting, his mask slipped just enough to reveal a flicker of vulnerability. “That’s the thing about appearances. They’re easier to manage and disguise than whatever the hell is going on underneath.”
The thickness of his words lingered between them longer than either of them would have liked to acknowledge.
Before she could respond, the door chimed again. Another presence entered–a blur of motion shaking of the rain. But this time, Y/N didn’t bother to look.
Minho’s presence suddenly felt like a pulling force of gravity.
“So.” She said, forcing her voice to lighten up a little. “Since you’re clearly a man of many secrets, what’s the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to you?”
Minho’s smile returned, softer this time. “Weirdest?” He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “I once dreamed about a place I’d never been to before. When I woke up the next morning, I knew exactly how to get there.”
Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the total honesty in his voice. “And did you go?”
“Yeah.” Minho said quietly. “It was this small park–hidden away from the city. You wouldn’t even stumble on it by accident, even if you happened to live nearby. It was old, forgotten in a way. The grass grew in uneven patches and colors, and the stone paths were cracked like crazy, like they hadn’t been walked on in years and years.”
His voice dropped lower, almost like he was afraid of breaking the memory. “There was a fountain in the middle, but it didn’t work anymore and I don’t think water had run through it in god knows how long. The basin was cracked down the center and moss was growing in the gaps. But the strangest part was the stone bench next to it. Old, worn down by weather and time. It looked like no one had sat there in forever but….I felt like I had.”
Y/N’s heart clenched, a shiver crawling up her spine.
“I sat there for over an hour.” Minho continued, his voice growing distant. “It felt like I was waiting for someone. Like someone was supposed to meet me there. But no one came.”
Y/N swallowed hard, forcing herself to stay composed. She knew that place.
The cracked fountain, the overgrown green and brown grass, the forgotten bench–all of it was familiar because….she had dreamed of it too.
Not just once, but many times. Each dream left her with the same longing ache in her chest, the same lingering sadness when she awoke. But she couldn't tell him that. Not when the very idea of sharing it right now felt too fast, too vulnerable, too intimate.
“That’s….oddly specific.” She said carefully, trying to mask the slight tremor in her voice.
Minho’s gaze dropped again, his fingers tracing idle patterns on the wooden table. “Yeah. It certainly felt specific.”
The tension in the air shifted, the playful curiosity between them giving way to something heavier, something unknown.
The rain continued its steady rhythm outside, a backdrop to the storm brewing inside their little corner.
“Y/N.” Minho said suddenly, breaking the spell.
“Yeah?”
“Why do you feel so familiar?”
Her stomach twisted. “I was thinking the same thing about you earlier.”
She didn’t mention the park. She couldn’t. Not yet.
They didn’t press the subject further. Instead, the silence returned, this time thicker with the weight of shared questions that they weren’t sure how to ask.
Eventually, the cafe’s lights dimmed as the staff began closing up for the night. Had they really stayed there for that long?
Minho stood up first, grabbing his jacket and slipping over his shoulders. “I should go.” He said, though his tone lacked conviction.
Y/N nodded, gathering her things slowly, as if prolonging the inevitable.
When they finally stepped outside, the rain had softened a little bit into a drizzle, the air cool and damp around them. Minho turned towards her, hands stuffed in his pockets.
“Hey.” He said, voice even lower now. “If you’re around tomorrow….same time?”
The invitation hung in the air for a moment.
Y/N’s lips curved into a small smile. “Yeah. Same time.”
A taxi rolled to a stop by the curb, headlights cutting through the rain. Minho offered her a soft smile as he opened the door and slid into the back seat. Â
Y/N caught a glimpse of the driver–a flash of dark eyes in the rearview mirror, tousled hair beneath a baseball cap. Her breath caught. For a second, just a second, the driver looked like Han.
No way, she thought, shaking her head as the cab pulled away.
But the unease didn’t stop there.
As she turned to head home, the reflection in the rain-streaked window yet again caught her eyes with Minho’s face. His expression was weighed down by years and emotion that she couldn’t explain. Y/N stood there, frozen, the drizzling rain sliding down the collar of her jacket. Minho’s reflection looked just like him–only older. The lines on his face were deeper, carved by time and something more than exhaustion. His eyes held a sadness that made her chest tighten. What made her blood run cold was that the reflection seemed to be staring back at her.
By the time she blinked next, the reflection was gone.
I’m just tired, she told herself, trying to brush away the chill across her skin. The logical part of her mind scrambled for answers–fatigue, over-caffeination, the strange energy of her evening catching up on her all at once. As she tried to rationalize it, her heart pounded with a certainty that this wasn’t just exhaustion. Â
Get a grip, Y/N, she told herself, pulling her jacket around her frame. You’re tired, that’s all.
As she started walking home, the eerie familiarity of possibly Han’s gaze in the taxi mirror replayed in her mind like a scene from a dream she couldn’t fully recall. The rain fell around her, each drop a reminder that tonight was different–like the pieces of a puzzle she didn’t yet realize she was a part of had just shifted into place.
And she had absolutely no idea what picture they were starting to piece together.
Summary: After a frustrating day, Y/N meets Minho, a stranger who feels oddly familiar. Their connection moves quickly, but things take a mysterious turn when Han, a cryptic newcomer, inserts himself into their conversation with unsettling ease. As deja vu lingers, Y/N begins to wonder if their meeting was really just coincidence.
Part 2
Y/N had always dismissed the idea of fate. It always sounded much too convenient, too much like an excuse that people gave themselves when life didn't go quite according to plan. Coincidences? Sure. Random chance? Absolutely. But destiny? Fate? The notion that the universe had some grand, intricate plan weaving everyone's lives together felt like nothing but wishful thinking.
At least, until today.
Her morning had been cursed from the moment she opened her eyes. She had overslept, thanks to her cat, Phoenix, knocking her phone charger unplugged and her phone dying in the middle of the night. And the stubbed toe on the corner of her dresser edge was practically a personal attack from the universe itself. Toothpaste had found its way onto her favorite cream colored sweater, an offense she couldn't even be mad about because of how absurdly typical it felt at this point.
And thennnn came the rain.
Not a gentle drizzle, but a heavy, unrelenting downpour that started the moment she set foot outside without her umbrella. She sprinted for the public bus, clutching her powder blue tote bag tightly to her body to keep her sketchbook safe, only to watch in horror as the bus rolled away from the stop just as she arrived out of breath.
By the time she finally stumbled into her favorite cafe, soaked to the bone and seething, she was convinced that if fate was real, it had a particularly cruel sense of humor.
The sharp chime of the cafe's doorbell greeted her, along with the comforting scent of freshly ground coffee. The warmth of the space seeped into her chilled wet skin, wrapping her in its familiar soothing embrace. The low murmur of conversations and the soft hum of indie music offered a reprieve from the chaos of the outside world.
Y/N ordered her usual; a hot latte with extra foam, and retreated to her typical booth tucked in the corner by a rain speckled window. She sighed as she wrapped her cold fingers around the warm coffee cup, letting the heat sink into her palms. Her eyes traced patterns in the swirling cream, trying to shake off the creeping sense that today was just off somehow.
The door chimed once more.
At first, she didn't look up. But something about the shift in energy, a subtle tension in the air, made her glance toward the entrance.
He walked in like any other customer, shaking droplets of rain from his dark leather coat. His black hair was damp, sticking slightly to his forehead, and he looked like he had just stepped out of a melancholy indie film. His sharp features were softened by the dim light of the cafe, but what caught her attention wasn't necessarily his appearence.
It was the strange, unsettling pull in her chest.
There was something about him. Something familiar.
His gaze swept over the cafe with casual indifference until his eyes landed on her. For the briefest of moments, time seemed to stutter. His eyes were a deep brown, warm and inviting, but behind the seemingly calm exterior was something unspoken; an echo of recognition that neither of them could place.
And then he walked towards her.
Her pulse quickened as he approached, though she couldn't pin point why. He stopped beside her booth, hesitating just long enough for her to wonder if he was just going to turn and walk away from her after all.
"Mind if I sit here?" His voice was low and smooth with a thread of hesitation beneath his suddenly confident exterior.
Y/N blinked. "Uh, sure?"
The stranger slid into the seat across from her without another word, then resting his hands on the table. The almost guaranteed awkwardness she expected never actually arrived. Instead, an unusual calmness settled over her, as if it hadn't been the first time they'd shared a table in a quiet cafe on a rainy day.
"I'm Minho." He said simply.
The name tugged at something deep inside of her mind, but the connection slipped away before she had the chance to grab hold of it.
"Y/N." She replied, her voice quieter than she intended.
A beat of silence stretched between them. It wasn't exactly uncomfortable, but it was heavy, like there was more to be said but neither of them knew where to start.
Minho's gaze lingered on her, studying her with a curious intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. "Have we met before?"
The question wasn't accusatory, it was gentle, almost thoughtful, as if he genuinely wasn't sure of the answer.
Y/N's throat felt suddenly dry. "I don't think so. I feel like I'd remember." She wasn't entirely sure what she meant by that.
He let out a small, humorless chuckle. "Yeah, me too."
Their conversation stumbled into neutral topics--how long they'd lived in the city, other favorite cafe's and restaurants, the inexplicable magic of rainy days. Underneath every word, there was an unspoken undercurrent. Every smile felt too familiar, every glance lasted a second too long. Y/N couldn't shake the feeling that they weren't strangers at all. They were....something else.
Just as she was about to ask Minho another question, the door chimed again.
Another stranger walked in, shaking off the cold with the same ease as Minho had. His messy black hair and oversized blood red hoodie gave him an effortless, casual coolness vibe. His eyes scanned the cafe with sharp precision until they landed on Y/N and Minho.
Then he smiled, wide and knowing, and just a little too pleased.
Without any hesitation, he made his way toward them and slid into the booth next to Minho like he belonged there.
"Fancy seeing you two here." The newcomer said with a grin that felt almost practiced.
Minho's posture tensed slightly. "Han."
Y/N blinked, the tension between the two men suddenly palpable. "You guys know each other?"
Han's grin widened. "You could say that. We cross paths more often than we should."
Minho's jaw tightened. "Or you're just good at showing up uninvited. What do they call that word? Stalking?"
Han chuckled, leaning back into his seat. "Coincidence? Fate? Who's to say?"
Y/N frowned, feeling like she stumbled into a conversation that had already been in progress. "Okay, seriously, what's going on?"
Han's gaze settled on her, and for a moment, the playful sparkle in his eyes dimmed. "I think you'll figure it out soon enough."
Minho cleared his throat, trying to redirect the tension off of her. "So, Y/N, what do you do?"
She blinked at the sudden shift. "I'm a freelance illustrator. I do commissions and some comic projects."
His eyes lit up with genuine interest. "That's amazing! It takes real skill to bring stories to life through art."
Before she could even respond, Han leaned forward in his seat, hands in his pockets. "Artists are always the ones who notice patterns first. You should pay attention to them."
Minho shot him a glare. "Can you not be so damn cryptic for once?"
Han smirked but said nothing more.
The rest of the conversation flowed naturally--too naturally, with the exception of a few of Han's odd additions that seemed almost like riddles. Every laugh shared, every moment of connection felt like layers of an unfinished puzzle slowly sliding into place.
Yet, under it all, there was a question that no one voiced aloud:
Why did it feel like they already knew each other?
Just as Y/N tried to shake the feeling, something bizarre happened, even compared to Han's presence. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the reflection in the rain streaked window beside them--an image of Minho's face, but somehow different. Older, perhaps, pr cast in a light that didn't exist within the cozy cafe. Her stomach twisted uncomfortably as she blinked, and the image vanished just as swiftly as it had appeared.
"Are you okay?" Minho's voice pulled her back into the present.
Y/N forced a smile, but the unease lingered and was hard to hide. "Yeah, just....I thought I saw something. Must've just been the rain."
Han's gaze lingered on her longer than she would have liked, the playful spark in his eyes dulled by something heaver, seemingly knowing. "Rain has a funny way of showing you things you're not ready to see."
Summary: Seungmin and Y/N's seemingly unbreakable relationship begins to fade.
A frigid winter wind swept through the city streets, sending brisk chills down Seungmin's spine as he zipped up his puffer jacket and walked quickly through a busy alley. The night was dark, but the city street lights painted the night sky with a faded orange yellow glow, hinting at the promise of a new day. His mind, however, was anything but glowing and clear.
A few hours ago, he had just left the recording studio, feeling an overwhelming sense of exhaustion and fatigue from the continuous sessions. But there was something else fogging his mind--something that had been weighing him down for days. It was a heavy weight he couldn't shake off, no matter how much he tried to focus and dive into his work.
As he approached the all too familiar front door to his apartment, he hesitated for a moment, glancing back at the street corner. Across the road, there was a small cafe where he and Y/N had spent so many mornings together. The thought of her made his chest tighten, a feeling that only intensified as he unlocked the door.
Inside, his place was quiet. Too quiet. He dropped his keys on the nearby end table and kicked off his shoes, stopping to sigh heavily and lean back against the closed door. He could hear his own deafening heartbeat in the stillness of the living room. It felt like a deafening reminder what he knew was very close to changing. His phone buzzed in his pocket at that moment, but he didn't have to look at it first before he knew who texted him.
Y/N.
His stomach churned as he slowly pulled out his phone from his pants pocket. The message was short but heavy.
"We need to talk."
It wasn't necessarily the first time he had seen a message like that, but this one felt incredibly different. It wasn't just a simple disagreement or misunderstanding. He could feel it in his bones--this was the very moment when everything was about to change.
With a shaky sigh, Seungmin opened the message, fingers trembling trying to think of a reply. Before he could muster up the courage to type, another message came through.
"I think it's time for us to let go."
Seungmin's heart sank lower than it ever had before and for a split second, the world seemed to stop spinning. The warmth that had enveloped him in his memories of their time together seemed to fade. It wasn't the first time they had faced challenges in their relationship but the depth of her words cut through him more than anything else possibly could have.
"I'm sorry, Seungmin. It's time for us to move on."
His throat tightened as he reread her texts over and over again. His mind raced, trying desperately to come up with something, anything, that would fix this. But deep down, he knew there was nothing that could be said that could change her mind at this point.
Seungmin sank down into the living room couch, his fingers gripping the phone so tightly that it almost popped out of his hands. The room was even more still and quiet now, yet it felt like a violent storm was raging inside of his soul. All of the memories they had shared--the laughter, the late-night talks, the way she would smile whenever he brought her her favorite coffee from the cafe on days she didn't feel like going out, were suddenly just echoes of a past he could no longer reach.
Seungmin closed his eyes and he could immediately see her face in his mind. Her eyes, always full of a loving warmth and understanding. The way she would listen to him, no matter how tired or distracted his rambling was. And that smile--god, that smile. It lit up his darkest days.
Now, that smile in the dark felt like distant memory, a fleeting moment he would never get back.
He opened his eyes and blankly stared at the ceiling. It's time to move on.
The texts she sent played over and over in his mind. He had always known that relationships weren't easy, especially with his busy schedule as an idol, but he never would have imagined that it would come to this. They had been together for just over three years, and within that time, he had come to realize just how much he needed her. She had been his anchor, his safe place in a world that often felt like it was spinning out of control. Now, he could quickly feel the distance growing between them, even though she was still just a text message away.
The ache in his chest grew, and before he could stop it and calm down, a tear slid down his cheek. He quickly wiped it away, standing up and walking over to the living room window. Outside, the world continued on like nothing happened, indifferent to the pain and suffering that was suddenly consuming him. The neon lit shop signs blinked and cars drove by, but none of it mattered. All he could think about was Y/N and how his world just came crashing down.
Her future absence was already beginning to feel like an unbearable crushing sensation. He had tried his best to push it to the back of his mind and tough it out but as he stared out into the night thinking about how many of those passing cars could possibly have couples returning from date night, or celebrating an anniversary, he couldn't even slightly push past the anguish of it all. There was no going back.
There's no going back.
He had told himself that before, after every argument, every time things seemed just too complicated to fix. On this night, those words felt different. They felt real. This time, it wasn't just an argument that they'd have to work past. It was the end of something genuine and the end of his beautiful life. The realization hit him like a hard punch in the gut.
Why now? He though, his hands gripping the edge of the window. What really just happened?
The questions gnawed at him, but deep down, he knew the answer. He had been so focused on his own career, so wrapped up in his own complicated world, that he had neglected her. Y/N had always been extremely patient with him and understanding when he had to cancel plans, miss dates, or suddenly have to catch a flight to another country. Even the most patient person has their limits. Y/N seemed to have reached hers.
Seungmin knew he was anything but blameless. He had taken her for granted, assuming she would always be there no matter what waiting for him. But love isn't something you can take for granted. It's fragile, and requires effort from both sides to thrive and survive.
As he stood there, lost in the endless vast ocean of his thoughts, his phone buzzed again. This time, the message was different. It was a voice memo. His heart skipped a beat as he tapped on it to listen.
"Seungmin."
Y/N's voice came through the speaker, soft and hiding a tremble.
"I don't want to hurt you but I can't keep pretending that everything is okay when it's not. We've drifted apart, you can't deny that, and I've tried to ignore it, but the truth is....we're just not the same anymore."
Seungmin closed his eyes again, her words hitting like a tsunami wave crashing against a city. He could hear the sadness in her voice, the pain that she had now so clearly been hiding from him. He had never wanted to be the cause of that pain, but now it was inevitable.
"I don't know where we went wrong, but I think I've lost myself somewhere along the way too. I don't want to keep holding on to something that just isn't working anymore."
She continued.
"I think it's time to let go, Seungmin. I really do care about you and love you but....it's too late."
The last few words of her voice lingered in the air, a final nail in the coffin of their relationship. It was final. It was over.
Seungmin sat back down on the couch, his head cradled in his hands. The tears came rushing down then, falling freely, the weight of everything crashing down on him all at once. He had always prided himself on being strong, on being able to handle whatever came his way. This was different. This wasn't something he could control. This wasn't something he could fix this time.
It was over.
After a while, the tears slowed down and stopped for the time being and Seungmin was left with nothing but emptiness. He had loved her with all his heart and soul, and now, she was gone. There was no going back to the way things had been before.
A FEW WEEKS LATER
The days that followed were some of the hardest of Seungmin's life. He threw himself into work, focusing on the music, the performances, the interviews. No matter how hard he tried to immerse himself in his career life, he couldn't escape the emptiness that lingered in his mind wherever he went.
He missed her. He missed the way she made him feel. Most of all, he missed the person he had been when they were together. She had been his balance, his reminder of the simple things in life. Without her, everything felt more difficult and chaotic.
One evening, Seungmin found himself at the same cafe where they had shared so many fond memories. He sat at a small table by the window, staring out into the street. The world outside seemed unchanged, but he was completely different. The person he had been before was gone, and in his place, there was an empty shell of a man who was still learning to face the reality of moving on.
The bell above the cafe door rang and Seungmin glanced up. A familiar figure stood in the doorway--Y/N.
Their eyes met for a brief moment, and for a second, Seungmin's breath stopped. His heart skipped a beat, and he stood up without thinking.
"Y/N." He spoke softly, his voice rough from emotions he had been holding back.
She looked at him, her expression unreadable. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, Y/N took a deep breath and walked over to his table.
"I didn't expect to see you here," she said quietly, sitting down across from him.
"I didn't expect to be here either," Seungmin replied, forcing a small smile. "But....I guess, this is where we ended up."
They both sat in silence for a long time, the weight of their shared history hanging in the air between them.
Finally, Y/N spoke again. "I've been thinking a lot about everything. I know we can't go back to the way things were and I just wanted to tell you....I think....I think I'm ready to move on fully."
Seungmin nodded, feeling a lump in his throat. "It's not easy, but I understand. I've been trying to figure out how to do this."
She gave him a sad smile, her eyes filling with a quiet understanding that the break up was still not mutual. "There really is no going back, Seungmin but that doesn't mean we can't find our peace with it."
He nodded again, unable to stop a tear from slipping down his cheek. This time, it wasn't out of regret, it was out of acceptance. There was no changing things and returning to his old life, but maybe he would be okay.
They sat there together for a few minutes longer, not needing to say anything else. It wasn't the closure either of them had expected, but it was enough. It was time to move on.
