Bird note: This is pure angst. I made myself cry with this….
You were sitting on the floor, your back against the wall, watching the others finish up soundcheck on the monitor. You hadn’t said much all day; not because you were upset, but because Hyunjin had been acting weird since the night before. You’d caught him laughing way too easily with one of the staff girls and hadn’t said anything about it, and it somehow made you feel… invisible.
Hyunjin walked in first when they came back, tossing a towel at a chair like it had personally offended him. His eyes flicked over to you.
“You could’ve come out and watched,” he said, dropping onto the couch beside your spot on the floor.
You didn’t even look up. “Didn’t feel like it.”
He scoffed. “Right. You’re so supportive.”
Your jaw tensed. “I don’t need to be glued to your side to be supportive.”
Hyunjin leaned forward, “You sure? You seemed pretty glued last night, until I talked to someone else.”
You looked at him then, the slow burn of irritation rising. “Wow. So we’re doing that?”
“Doing what?” he said, clearly baiting you, lips twisted into something halfway between a smirk and a sneer.
You stood, brushing off your legs. “You want me to say it? Fine. Maybe I just didn’t feel like watching you be charming with everyone but me.”
Hyunjin stood too, a little too fast, like your words hit something. “You’re jealous?”
You laughed once, not amused. “I’m not jealous. I just don’t like feeling invisible.”
“That’s rich,” he said, stepping closer. “Coming from the girl who treats me like I’m annoying 90% of the time.”
“Only because you are,” you snapped back, folding your arms even though it made your chest feel tighter. “You push every button I have and act like it’s cute.”
He didn’t flinch, didn’t step back. “Maybe I do it because it’s the only way to get a reaction out of you.”
You blinked at that. You hated how true it felt. There was a pause, the kind that hangs too long and says too much. Someone laughed from the hallway. Neither of you moved.
Then Hyunjin exhaled and looked away. “You’re exhausting, you know that?”
“Yeah?” you said quietly.
His voice dropped, quieter now. “But I don’t want anyone else to exhaust me like this.”
You stared at him, arms still folded. “Then stop making me feel like I don’t matter.”
The tension had to be cut thanks to Han who entered the room to get Hyunjin to go get ready for the show. He left the room without saying anything else.
Later that night, after the concert, the green room was mostly empty now, just the hum of vending machines and the distant clatter of someone wheeling cases out near the stage exit. Everyone else had drifted out to change or head to the hotel. You stayed behind. You hadn’t spoken much since rehearsal ended, and neither had Hyunjin.
He was scrolling on his phone, leaning against a makeup table with one leg propped up, his expression unreadable but his energy was sharp. Cold, even.
You sat across from him on a chair, your arms loosely wrapped around your knees. You knew he was irritated.
“Are you gonna stay quiet all night again?” he finally asked, not looking up.
You hesitated. “I didn’t know we were talking.”
He scoffed, putting his phone face down. “Yeah. Because talking with you lately is so fun.”
Your stomach sank. “I didn’t say anything wrong.”
“That’s the thing,” he said, standing up straight. “You never say anything. You just sit there with that look like I’m the bad guy and wait for me to fix it.”
You looked down. “I’m not trying to make you feel like anything.”
“No?” He took a few steps closer. “Then maybe tell me what’s going on instead of acting like a sad little ghost every time I talk to someone else.”
You flinched at the phrasing but stayed quiet.
He sighed, pacing now. “God, Y/N. It’s like… I try. I flirt, I joke, I give you all this attention, and you just… blink at me like I’m annoying you.”
“I’m not… ” you started, but he cut you off.
“Yes, you are. You always are, and then the second someone else actually talks to me, you shut down like I’ve cheated on you or something.”
You pressed your lips together. “I never said that.”
“You don’t have to say it. You feel it and you don’t even try to hide it.”
You stood up now, voice quiet. “I didn’t know I wasn’t allowed to feel anything.”
“Oh, but you feel everything,” he said with a bitter edge. “You just don’t say anything until it’s too late, then you sulk and disappear and expect me to figure it out.”
“I never ask you to figure me out,” you said. “You do that on your own.”
Hyunjin’s jaw clenched. He looked at you like he didn’t recognize you for a second. Then, in a voice low but razor-sharp, he said:
“Maybe I’m just tired of trying so hard for someone who clearly doesn’t know what they want.”
You blinked. The words hit like a slap. Your stomach dropped, your chest went cold, but you didn’t say anything. You just looked at him, your face completely still.
From down the hall, Bang Chan appeared at the doorway, looking like he’d just come back to grab something, but the tension in the room stopped him. You didn’t move. Hyunjin didn’t either.
“Y/N,” Chan said gently, “can you give us a second?”
You nodded without speaking, brushing past him quietly, not making eye contact.
Chan stepped in, shutting the door behind you with a soft click.
Hyunjin didn’t look at him.
There was a silence, then Chan spoke, calm, even, but not casual. “I know I shouldn’t interfere in stuff like this. Your relationships are your business.”
Hyunjin stared at the floor. “Then don’t.”
Chan’s voice didn’t change. “Normally I wouldn’t, but I heard what you said just now.”
That made Hyunjin glance up, briefly, then away again.
“And I just…” Chan let out a soft breath. “I know you. I know you’re not mean. Not really. But that?” He shook his head. “That wasn’t okay.”
“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” Chan continued. “But I need you to hear this: it’s not fair to tear someone down just because you’re frustrated, especially not someone who never fights back.”
That made Hyunjin’s jaw twitch.
“She’s not built to yell or push or throw words back at you. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t feel them, and you know that.”
“I didn’t mean it,” Hyunjin said finally, voice flat. “I just… ” He cut himself off.
Chan watched him closely. “But you did say it. And you said it knowing she wouldn’t say anything back.”
Hyunjin’s eyes dropped again, shoulders tightening.
Chan’s voice softened. “I’ve seen the way you look at her, Jinnie. And I’ve seen the way she looks at you when she thinks no one notices. So if you want her, really want her, you’ve gotta learn how to not throw knives just because you’re scared or frustrated.”
There was a heavy silence between them. Then Chan turned to leave, pausing at the door. “I’m not judging you. I’ve said things I regret too. Just… don’t wait too long to fix it.”
He left the door slightly ajar as he stepped out, his footsteps fading into the hallway.
Hyunjin didn’t move for a while. He just stood there, staring at the floor, the echo of what he said and the look on your face when he said it sitting heavy in his chest like a bruise that hadn’t formed yet.
Back in the hotel room, lights off, you’re curled under a blanket, your phone on silent. Your chest had carried that low, heavy ache all night, the kind that feels like you swallowed something too sharp to digest.
There was a knock at the door. Three taps. Then nothing.
Then came a voice, quiet and familiar.
You stayed silent. More silence followed. Then, the voice, a little lower this time, more cautious.
You thought about pretending to sleep. About waiting for him to give up, but eventually, something gave in you and you got up, padding barefoot across the carpet to open the door.
“Can I come in?” he asked.
You nodded, barely, and moved aside. He stepped in slowly. Didn’t sit, just stood near the wall, fidgeting with his sleeves.
“I… didn’t mean what I said,” he began, voice low and shaky. “Earlier. I didn’t mean it.”
You sat on the edge of the bed, arms around yourself. You didn’t say anything.
“I was frustrated. Not with you. Just… everything. And you were just there. And I said something to hurt you because I felt like you weren’t letting me in.”
You looked at your hands.
He ran a hand through his hair, pacing a little now, trying to find the right words and failing.
“I don’t know how to handle this thing between us,” he muttered. “You’re quiet, and I’m loud. You shut down, and I take it personally. I know I shouldn’t. I just… I like you, and I hate feeling like I’m the only one feeling everything.”
That made your throat tighten.
“I’m not saying that to guilt you,” he added quickly, softer now. “I’m just… I don’t know. I wanted to hurt you, and that makes me feel disgusting.”
You looked up finally. Your voice was small.
You swallowed hard. “I don’t know what I want.”
You felt the truth dig in deeper as you spoke. “I get scared every time you get too close. I don’t know how to let people in without wondering when they’ll leave. I just thought if I didn’t say anything… if I stayed quiet enough… maybe you wouldn’t notice how hard it is for me.” You looked down again. “So yeah. Maybe you’re tired of trying for someone like me, and maybe you should be.”
“Don’t do that,” he said, quietly.
You shook your head, the words coming slowly. “It’s not your fault I don’t know how to ask for things or to tell you when I’m hurting. It’s not your fault I always wait for the worst to happen. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I did,” he cut in, stepping closer. “I did. I said something cruel because I felt powerless and insecure and I wanted to get a reaction. That’s not okay.” Hyunjin knelt in front of you “I did say something cruel,” he whispered again. “And I hate myself for it.”
You let his words linger there. But then you leaned back, pulling away slightly, your arms still wrapped tightly around yourself.
“I know,” you said, voice calm. “And it’s okay. You were being honest and I needed to hear it.”
He blinked, confused. “Y/N… “
You looked at him then. Not angry. Not distant. Just… clear.
“I’m not good for you,” you said gently, and his entire body stiffened.
“Don’t say that,” he whispered.
“It’s true,” you continued, even as your throat closed. “I shut down. I disappear. I hold everything in until it poisons both of us. I make you question yourself without even meaning to.”
Hyunjin shook his head, eyes wide now. “Stop, no, you’re scared, that’s all. You don’t have to push me away.”
“I’m not pushing,” you said softly. “I’m letting go. That’s different.”
He stood abruptly, hands on his hips like he didn’t know what to do with them. “You don’t get to do this right after I apologize. After I tell you I want to try.”
“That’s the problem,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “You want to try. And I make it hard. I make you feel unseen. You said it yourself, you’re tired. And you’re right to be.”
“I said that because I was hurt,” he snapped. “Not because I meant it!”
“But it came from somewhere, didn’t it?” you said, quieter. “Things like that don’t come out of nowhere.”
He turned to face you again, eyes glassy. “You think I care how hard it is? You think I don’t want you, even like this? Messy and quiet and guarded and complicated?”
“I think,” you said, standing now, “that you deserve someone who doesn’t make love feel like a burden.”
And then, shakily, he said: “Please don’t do this.”
You looked at him: Hyunjin, with all his softness wrapped in sharp edges, with his heart out in the open for you, and it broke something in you to say it, but you did.
“I think I need to be alone. And I think… you need someone who isn’t still trying to learn how to be loved.”
He looked at you like he didn’t recognize you. “So that’s it? Just like that?”
You shook your head, tears threatening now but never falling. “Not just like that. I’ve thought about it. I just couldn’t admit it until tonight.”
Hyunjin’s chest rose and fell like he was holding something in. A scream. A sob. Something that would unravel him.
So instead, you whispered, “I’m sorry,” and stepped toward the door.
He reached for you, but stopped himself.
“I think…” you start, your voice trembling despite how calm you try to sound, “I need to be alone.”
Hyunjin stares at you, like he’s waiting for a punchline that never comes. “No.”
Your hands twist in the hem of your shirt. You force yourself to meet his eyes. “You should go.”
“No.” His voice is louder now. Cracked. “Don’t say that.”
He’s already shaking his head, chest rising unevenly. “You don’t mean this. You’re overwhelmed. I get it. I messed up, I said something awful, but we can talk through it. You don’t have to… You don’t have to do this.”
You swallow hard, fighting the sting in your eyes. “I do.”
His eyes are already wet.
“Don’t… ” He moves toward you, eyes desperate. “Don’t do that. Don’t make me leave when I just… I just figured out how to be honest with you. Don’t throw that away.”
“I’m not throwing it away,” you whisper. “I’m setting it down before it destroys us both.”
He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes. His voice comes out broken. “God, Y/N, please don’t… please don’t do this.”
You reach up and touch his wrist gently, not to hold him there, but to say goodbye.
“I’m not angry,” you say, barely above a whisper. “You didn’t do anything unforgivable”.
He starts crying then, real tears, no holding back and it kills you. But you cry too. Soft, quiet, resigned. Not because you don’t love him, but because you do.
“I can be better,” he says, voice shaking. “Just give me a chance. I’ll wait, I’ll… I’ll be patient… “
“I know you would,” you whisper, tears sliding down your cheeks. “But I wouldn’t forgive myself if I stayed and kept hurting you every time I get scared.”
He looks at you for a long time, like he’s trying to memorize your face, like maybe he won’t see it again, and then, slowly, you reach for the door.
“…Please don’t make me leave,” he says one last time.
But you don’t answer. You step aside. The silence says everything. He doesn’t move. You gently place your hand on his chest, light pressure, just enough to guide.
And he breaks, but he lets you.
Hyunjin walks out with a stifled sob and a shattered look, his steps slow like he’s dragging his heart behind him.
You close the door with a trembling hand, and then you slide down to the floor, your back to the wood, and let yourself finally fall apart.
The door clicked shut behind him.
His hand was still halfway lifted, like he might knock again, like maybe this wasn’t real, like maybe he was dreaming and you were going to open it and say, “Come back.”
But the silence was deafening, and then came the sting in his chest. The unbearable, aching pressure building from the center of his ribs, crawling up his throat.
He pressed a hand over his mouth and stumbled down the hallway. His eyes were burning, his breathing uneven. He moved fast, too fast, barely able to see through the blur. The hallway stretched out like a tunnel, too long, too bright, too exposed.
He couldn’t let anyone see him like this. Not a manager. Not a staff member. Not a bandmate.
He reached the corner and turned sharply, fumbling his key card out of his hoodie pocket with shaking hands. He dropped it. Cursed. Picked it up again.
His chest hiccuped, sobs building too fast for him to control.
“Come on come on come on”
The light on the door turned green, he shoved it open, slipped inside, and slammed it shut behind him. The lock clicked into place.
And then he collapsed, back against the door, sliding down it like someone had pulled the floor out from under him. He hit the carpet hard, breath catching in short, painful bursts.
Then the tears came, raw, silent at first, then louder. He curled into himself, hands in his hair, teeth clenched, like he could hold his body together just long enough for the grief to pass, but it didn’t. It just kept coming. The sound, the pain, the emptiness. Everything.
Not literally, not physically, but in all the ways that mattered.
You’d said you weren’t angry.
You weren’t angry. You were hurt and tired, and still sweet even while pushing him out of your life. Hyunjin let out a rough, trembling sound and buried his face in his knees.
He wasn’t supposed to break like this, he was supposed to be able to fix it.
And he couldn’t go back through that door and make you change your mind, so he stayed there, on the floor, alone in his hotel room, while his heart broke so loudly it almost drowned out the quiet.
The carpet beneath him had long since lost its comfort. He’d stopped crying after what felt like hours to him, but the hollowness that followed was worse.
He lay on the floor like he wasn’t sure what to do with his body. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw yours, wide, sad, quiet in a way that begged him not to make you say more than you already had.
It echoed in his head like a curse. You hadn’t even yelled; you’d just… given up.
That was what killed him most. Not the door closing, not the quiet push, but the way you looked at him, like you loved him and it still wasn’t enough.
At some point, he sat up and pulled himself into the bed like a ghost, limbs heavy and slow. He stared at the ceiling, arms crossed over his chest, like maybe if he held himself tight enough, he wouldn’t fall apart again, but the words wouldn’t stop pressing on his ribs, begging to be let out.
So he turned onto his side, reached for his phone, and opened your name in his messages. He stared at the screen for a long time.
I don’t know what I’m trying to say yet, so this will probably be all over the place. I’m sorry in advance. You don’t have to respond. I just need to get this out before it eats me alive.
I think what scares me most right now is that you really believe what you said tonight. That you’re bad for me. That I should want someone else. That being scared makes you unlovable. None of that is true, but you believe it, and I didn’t do enough to make you believe otherwise before it was too late.
You don’t shut down because you want to hurt me. You shut down because you’ve been hurt before. And I should have known that. I should have seen that your silence wasn’t distance, it was survival.
But instead, I made it about me. I wanted more, and I didn’t ask gently. I demanded it. I cornered you. I tried to pull emotion out of you like I was owed it. And when I didn’t get what I wanted, I said something awful just to get a reaction.
And it worked. I got a reaction. I lost you.
I don’t blame you for asking me to leave. I deserved that. I made you feel like love was conditional. Like it came with rules. Like if you didn’t meet my expectations, I’d punish you for it. And the truth is… I think I was punishing myself, too. For being too much. For needing too much. For wanting you the way I do.
You don’t even know how much I want you. All of you. The quiet parts. The messy parts. The parts that hide when things get real.
I want your silence. I want your fear. I want the space between your words. I want the parts of you that think they’re too complicated to be loved.
I know you don’t believe me. But I’d stay, even if you didn’t talk for a week. I’d stay, even if you never figured out how to explain what you’re feeling. I’d stay because loving you isn’t a transaction for me. It’s not based on what I get back.
I didn’t say it earlier. I should have. But I love you.
I’m not sending this to win you back. I know that’s not how this works. I just want you to know that even if we’re done, even if this was it, I’ll always remember the quiet way you looked at me when you asked me to go, and how much love I still saw in your eyes even while your voice was breaking.
I don’t hate you. I never could.
I’m still here, Y/N. Even if you never want me back.
He stared at the screen for a long time before hitting send, and when he did, he set the phone face-down on the pillow beside him, like maybe it would warm the empty space where you would’ve been.
