user hoonigiris idk if u remember me at all but i'm in my yearly tumblr phase and i miss u on my feed.... đđđ idk what ure up to but i hope ure doing ok. <3 also do u play genshin. i also play gneshinđ I'm so sorry it's 5am for me i haven't slept
user chenfleur i could never forget about you! i am unfortunately not in a very enhypen time of my life right now, but i do miss the whimsy i would get on here :( recently i have been busy with WORK đ€ź. grateful but forever cursed by my big girl job. i had a brief stint being into jjk and writing for it on my other account but unfortunately i have not been in a very writing mood in my life recently either :((
itâs also my moral obligation to pitch my newest obsession with you: this cdrama called pursuit of jade. PLEASE watch i promise u will never regret it. you must join me PleaseâŠâŠ. the main lead is like one right step away from sunghoon in both appearance and the pathetic yearnful sopping wet dog version of sunghoon that spins around in my head in most hours of my day.
and i Do play genshin how did u know⊠genshin friends? genshin friends? genshin friends? genshin frie
pairing . jungwon x fem! reader (ft. sunghoon)
about . 16.2k+ words, angst, unrequited love + hanahaki
synopsis . jungwon doesn't think there's anything scarier than watching his best friend, who he's secretly been in love with his whole life, get married to another. however, as he coughs up blood and tries to ignore the ache in his chest, he starts to believe that maybe, there just might be something worse: death.
warnings . major character death, blood, throwing up, alcohol/drinking, cursing, themes of suicide and death overall, this is a hanahaki au so i cannot stress enough how much grief there is in this, miscommunication, heavy angst, depression, sickness, there's like 1 suggestive line, its barely implied reader is shorter than jungwon but it doesnt matter too much, if you are reading this hoping for a good time there is none ok
playlist . flowers in december by mazzy star, bonfire by wave to earth, no one noticed by the marias, romantic homicide by d4vd, space song by beach house, favorite crime by olivia rodrigo, beaches by beabadoobee
notes . first fic on this account hello!! also this was written for @hoonigiris i hope you enjoy my grad gift to u! (let's ignore how this was supposed to be done by last august.) also thank you to @sungbeam for dealing with me crashing out every single time and for beta-ing, i love u so much. genuinely writing this has ruined me i'm so sorry jungwon for putting you through this much pain but at least i finished the fic yknow đ
The light that streams in through the blinds is unbearably bright today.
Usually, Jungwon can ignore it. He can reach over to tug the blinds shut or bury his face into his perfectly fluffed pillow. He can pretend he has no other obligations and surrender to the slumber that consumes him once more. At least, until his alarm rings, he can exist in a world of peace where his only soulmate is the quilted pattern of his blanket.
Unfortunately, though, he cannot replicate this sequence of actions today. Mainly because no matter how hard he tries, the ever-so-persistent buzzing of his phone doesnât seem to quell.Â
Jungwon reaches for his bedside dresser unquestioningly, not wanting to open his eyes, which currently feel weighted down by dumbbells. His fingers fumble around the hardwood until they land on something smooth, and he grips his phone with whatever strength he has this early in the morning. With one eye, he peeks at his phone screen to see a flashing call appear on the glowing screen. With a grumble, he picks up.
âHello?â he whispers. Only then does he register the dryness of his throat, that scratchy, aching feeling he gets after one too many vodka shots at the club.Â
âJungwon, finally!â he hears from the other end. It takes him a little bit to recall your chirpy voice from the other end of the phone. âDo you know how many times Iâve called you? This isââ
âY/n,â he starts, his eyes scanning the clock hanging across his room. âItâs seven in the morning. I never wake up this early. You never wake up this early.â
Jungwon hears a rustle of sheets next to him, a soft whine echoing out from his sleeping hyung. Jayâs tired eyes blink open, and he throws an arm over his eyes as if the light streaming in personally insulted him.
âFuck, my head hurts. What time is it?â Jay mumbles.
âSeven.â
Jungwonâs headache makes its presence known on cue, and flashes of last nightâs misadventures spring through his memory. He groans, already regretting tagging along with Jay to the bar near his house, the one with Jayâs bartender friend that always gives them half off on drinks. Nights like these are ones he always regrets, never too fond of the aftermath of a raging headache, but sometimes he just needs a little something after a long day of work.
âAre you with Jay?â Jungwon hears on the other end, and he hums softly. âGood, because I have something important to tell you both!â
Your voice is wispy, full of breaths and almost-stutters as if you landed in some sort of unescapable trouble. Jungwonâs heart picks up, worry pounding through him as he puts your call on speaker and climbs out of bed. He fumbles around the room, tugging on a shirt and searching for his keys as he responds.
âWhatâs wrong? Did you miss your bus again? I can come pick you upââ
âNo, Won, nothingâs wrong.â Your breathing staggers on the other end, as if you were controlling every inhale and exhale, and he finds himself not believing your words.
âAre you sure?â
âJungwon. Listen to me.â
He stops, pausing for a beat, and listens. He listens, just like he always does.
âHe proposed, Won. Sunghoon proposed.â
And suddenly, Jungwon feels like heâs suffocating.
He doesnât register much after that, only Jay expressing a small âcongratsâ as you both continue talking. His knees buckle, and heâs forced to sit back down on the bed with his shirt half-on and shaking hands. He doesnât even realize heâs crying until he hears shuffling across the room and finds his tears staining Jayâs bare torso, pressing into his chest as Jay brings him in for a hug.
Jay doesnât say anything at first; he just rubs circles into his back with a touch so delicate that it barely registers. When Jungwon cries harder, he breaks, whispering apologies into his ear as if they can do anything to crush the tidal wave of anguish that just swept over Jungwon.Â
âIâm sorry. Iâm so, so sorry,â he repeats, over and over again like a mantra, but Jungwon doesnât understand why. Did he do something wrong? Did you do something wrong? Is loving someone who isnât him wrong?Â
Or is it he thatâs wrong, loving you irrevocably despite your heart belonging to another? Loving you and lying to everyone about his true feelings with only a selfish desire to keep you close. Was it so wrong that he just wanted to be with you, even if it was as your best friend and nothing more?
All the memories of you suddenly resurface, handpicked moments where he couldâve confessed at any moment, but instead remained silent. Moments where he watched you chase your happiness, even if that didnât involve him. A small, gnawing feeling in his chest makes itself known, crawling its way up his intestines and up his throat.
âHyung,â Jungwon whispers. Jay pulls back, searching his eyes and anticipating any sort of grief-filled reaction that comes Jungwonâs way. âI⊠I think Iâm going to throw up.â
Jay frowns, already reaching for the pink Hello Kitty bucket in the corner of Jungwonâs room, reserved for hangovers, rough nights, and maybe in rare cases like this, heartbreak. Jungwonâs eyes flutter shut as he heaves, and heaves, and heaves, all his yearning leaving through his mouth until nothing remains and heâs pulling the bucket away with a slight cough.Â
âWon, you need to rinse your mouth,â Jay starts, patting his back. Jungwon stares into the bucket, his face contorting into something of confusion.
âWon?â he hears again, but this time he rubs his eyes in disbelief, blinking three times before tilting the bucket towards his hyung.
âLook, hyung. Petals.â
White, curled petals, sitting against the baby pink interior of the bucket. A sight so unrealistic that it doesnât even look real until Jay shakes the bucket and the petals flutter to the bottom. Jungwon can only stare in shock, almost in wonder, until he throws up again.
(He finds out later, after heâs calmed down and the tears on his cheeks have become one with his skin, that Sunghoon proposed to you on that mountain. The one that you and Jungwon discovered first together, back in high school when you ventured off the trail for your senior pictures and stumbled upon the view of a beautiful sunrise studded with pine trees. The mountain that youâd revisit with Jungwon every summer, dragging him, and later Sunghoon, along because it became something of a tradition, sitting at the top of the world with the whole forest spread beneath you.
You would stare at the view. Jungwon would stare at you.)
In retrospect, itâs not like Jungwon didnât see it coming.
Heâd anticipated it for a while now, or at least started expecting it after Sunghoon had pulled him aside during a house party months ago and shyly asked him for his photographer friendâs number, the one who specialized in weddings and surprise proposals. Sunghoon had stared at him so cutely from behind his thick-rimmed glasses that Jungwon had no choice but to ignore the sinking feeling as he forwarded his friend Rikiâs phone number, tapping him on the shoulder and wishing him good luck.
(That sinking feeling that heâs always had when he sees you with Sunghoon, as if he doesnât have a Pinterest album of his ideal wedding that heâs imagined you walking down the aisle in. As if he hasnât daydreamed about sliding a ring on your finger since he was seventeen, mourning the distance between you two as you headed off to college without him. As if he hasnât imagined how heâd get down on one knee in the midst of a rainy afternoon and ask to be yours forever.)
Itâs just that Jungwon didnât expect it to be this soon. He thought heâd have more time to bury his reverence for you, to pretend as though you really just were two best friends. Heâd wanted to imagine himself cradled in your arms one last time before he lost you for good.
Instead, he has to settle for watching you from a distance. He glances at you one too many times today, admiring the flowy sundress you have on as you sit in the wicker chair next to Sunghoon. Itâs like his body knows that youâre slipping from his grasp, because his eyes flicker over to you like itâs second nature, and he has to fight to regain his focus.Â
Itâs the first time heâs seen you, physically, in a long while. You look different, almost as if youâre glowing, so giddy with every movement that Jungwon feels it radiate off you. Conversely, Jungwon feels as though thereâs a storm cloud brewing in his stomach, twisting and turning and flipping over and over again as though heâs sick. The complementary croissant from the restaurant lies untouched on his plate, and he busies himself with his phone, reading through the influx of messages from Jay about whatâs supposedly wrong with him and his newfound ability to throw up petals.
âJungwon,â you start, abruptly enough that he almost drops his phone before his eyes glance back up towards you, âand Jake. Thank you for coming.â
âYouâre welcome? What is this, an announcement?â Sunghoonâs best friend chimes in, stifling a laugh at your formal behavior.
âSort of, actually,â Sunghoon responds, observing Jungwonâs confused expression. âWe, um,â he clears his throat, the pink rising to his cheeks. âWeâre getting married. In two months.â
Time seems to hate Jungwon. It trickles down at moments where Jungwonâs impatient, watching the clock tick as he taps his foot in rhythm, and it crashes through like a tsunami when he craves some peace and quiet. Time seems to slide through his fingers like sand from a broken hourglass, escaping through every crack as if it's running away from something. He never seems to have enough of it, either too much or too little, and right now, he wishes that it was more friendly to him because he knows that getting over you will take a lot longer than two months.
(Really, heâs had a lifetime to do this, but heâs deluded himself into thinking that getting over you is measurable. A process he can start once he needs to. Itâs not. Getting over you is an immeasurable entity that he will be battling for the rest of his life. Itâs not time thatâs unfair to him; itâs himself.)
âThatâs so⊠soon,â Jungwon finds himself saying lamely.
âYeah,â Jake echoes. âDidnât you guys just get engaged?â
âSunghoon has a work trip early next year, so we thought itâd be best to tie the knot before he goes off,â you explain. Your ring glints from the soft sunshine as you meet Sunghoonâs gaze, like a cheesy romance scene in a movie Jungwon wishes heâd never seen. âAnd weâd like you both to be part of the wedding party.â
The swirling in Jungwonâs stomach intensifies.
âLike, Iâd be your maid of honor?â Jungwon lets out, drinking a glass of water to calm the weirdness in his chest.
âOr like, a dude of honor,â Jake comments. Jungwonâs too preoccupied waiting for your reaction to notice Sunghoonâs eye roll.
âYeah, basically.â
He canât stop his brain from overthinking, trying any way to get out of something heâd regret. Something youâd regret.
âAre you sure about this? I mean, like, what about Wonyoung?â he asks, knowing how close you are with your college roommate. âShe probably knows more about this wedding thing than I do. Or what about Ningningââ
âWon,â you interrupt, placing your hand over his. Your touch is delicate, like always, but he finds it scathingly hot today, as if youâve set him on fire. âYouâre my best friend. Why would I want anyone other than you by my side?â
Oh, how he wishes he could be by your side, not just as your best friend, but as your lover. Sometimes he thinks you know this gaping secret heâs hiding, choosing to say innocent little musings about him and you as if they have no effect on his sanity. He feels sick again, that same sickness from when he gripped Jayâs shirt tightly as tears cascaded down his face, and all he had was the overwhelming urge to get it out. He canât necessarily do that now, though, not when Sunghoonâs stare is piercing into the side of his head, waiting for a response.
No matter how fucked up this all is, how you unknowingly take and take from him until he has nothing left to give, he still prefers this over not knowing you at all. So he agrees, just like he always does.
âYouâre right. Okay,â he says numbly, watching your face light up in a grin as you clutch his hand a little tighter, as if his skin hasnât been burnt off enough. Even though the whole table radiates with joy, infectious from your laughter, he feels like his heart is being ripped to pieces with every smile you throw his way.
He excuses himself to go to the bathroom a few minutes later, the urge to vomit becoming unbearable with every word he watches you say. He watches the petals float down into the toilet basin, scoffing as he slumps down on the gray tile and wipes his mouth. His hands are finding Jayâs contact before he can even register it, and he tries his hardest not to cry and make a fool of himself in front of you as the phone rings.
He wishes he could go back to a time when he wasnât in love with you. When all you were to him was just another friend, when he didnât feel guilty for staring at you a little too long or wanting you more than he wanted anyone else. He wishes he could go back to that time, even though he knows that it never existed, because all heâs ever known is how to love you. He knows heâs been put on this Earth to love you, and to wish otherwise would mean heâd cease to exist.
âHyung,â Jungwon whispers when the call goes through. His throat is raw and scratchy again, aching just like his feelings for you.
âItâs called hanahaki disease, Won,â Jay whispers slowly, as if it pains him to say. âItâs rare, but it happens when youâre in love with someone who doesnât love you back. Youâll keep coughing up petals until eventually you die from it.â
Jungwon laughs bitterly because somehow, death doesnât seem that bad compared to losing you for a lifetime. In the end, death seems better than this sick and twisted fate of his.
Jungwon has always known that you wanted to get married in a garden.
He knows that itâs been a dream of yours to get married with the river flowing behind you and the dandelions peeking through the blades of grass. Early enough that the morning dew still prickles beneath your feet, but not too early for you to complain about your heavy eye bags from lack of sleep.
Jungwon hates that he knows little details about you like this. He hates that he has the ability to read you faster than heâs read himself, as if youâre a book filled with annotations and dog-eared pages from a life well-lived. If Jungwon were a mere acquaintance, crushing on you from afar, he thinks it wouldâve been easier to distance himself emotionally. It would be easier to stop loving you without the weight of the world crashing down on his shoulders.
To his dismay, however, Jungwon is not a random nobody to you. Heâs your best friend, your other half, the one who completes your sentences and ties your shoelaces. Jungwon knows you like to think of yourself as a star, a tiny, twinkling star that somehow found its place, but to him, you are the epicenter of every universe. A universe where he handpicked all the stars and galaxies, painted the darkness behind you with a soft brush as if it barely exists in comparison to your glow, because he sees you for all that you are. A universe where he settles for being a small planet that orbits you because he is bound to you by heart and soul, and he wonât be able to escape that, no matter how hard he tries.
Your relationship is so tightly knit that heâs the one helping you pick out flower arrangements today instead of Sunghoon. He adjusts uncomfortably in the too-smooth leather couch in the floral shop, watching your fingers flick through the guidebook and trying not to stare at the ring that has now become a permanent placeholder on your body. He subconsciously makes note of the flower arrangements that you linger on for too long, knowing that you wonât remember them until you retrace your line of thought.
(Itâs okay, though. Heâs always been there to remember things for you. Like the time you forgot your notecards for your sociology presentation, and he printed out spare just in case. Or when you forgot to ask for mango sago in your drink, so he pulled the cashier aside after to let her know. Even if youâre not aware of how much he does for you, heâll still continue to do it just to see that glow on your face. That same glow that spreads slowly, the one that barely appears, but the one he still notices because he loves you.)
âTheyâre all pretty,â you murmur, flipping back and forth through a couple of different arrangements. âWhat about the petunias?â
Jungwon eyes the multicolored flowers in the photo, his brows arching skeptically. âYou didnât want flashy colors, though,â he reminds you gently, taking the book from your hands.
You sigh, slumping against the couch as if youâre over this whole ordeal, even though itâs only been thirty minutes. Jungwon flips to the next page, ignoring your disinterested gaze because even though your eyes glaze over, he knows how important this is to you, and therefore how important it is to him, too.
He scans the pages until his fingers pause, pressing indents into an arrangement with white colored flowers and pretty green springs. His heart rate spikes as his mind races with every intention to turn the next page, to forget about the same flowers that continue to plague him, but youâve already noticed his silence and leaned in curiously to examine the page.
âThose are pretty, arenât they?â you echo, your fingers tracing over the white crysanthemums. Even in the picture, they look delicate, as if one harsh gust could blow away the petals, and all Jungwon can think about is how much they remind him of you.
(Theyâre the same white flowers he wanted to ask you out with. Heâd preordered the bouquet weeks in advance, waiting until the cherry blossoms bloomed to plan the perfect date. The collared shirt he picked out matched how pure the flowers looked in his hands, and he purposefully waited to get his hair cut because he knew you liked to run your fingers through the silky length.Â
The date never happened, though, because you told him about your crush on Park Sunghoon three days later. The cute barista who always drew hearts on your coffees and added extra boba to your tea. Jungwon smiled back at you as if every word didnât pierce through his chest, and the bouquet stayed in his dorm, shriveling up until the color became unrecognizable.)
âThey are pretty,â he whispers. âAre you sure, though? White flowers tend to wilt faster.â
âTheyâll only be for the centerpieces, Won. Besides, the color is versatile enough to go with everything, so itâll be easy to make a theme around it.â
He wants to tell you that he wonât be able to bear seeing you walk down the aisle with white crysanthemums, a pointed reminder of what couldâve been if you had reciprocated even an ounce of his feelings. He wants to tell you that heâll die because of this very flower, that the petals he throws up because you donât feel the same way are the same ones you want to center your entire wedding around.
He wants to tell you that white chrysanthemums mean death, not for you, but for him.
He canât say any of that, though. Not when you speak so happily to the cashier, discussing logistics and deciding this is the one you want. He can never say no to you, because denying your happiness is like denying his whole existence, even if it causes every part of him to wither away until all that remains is a singular white petal.
The wind whips through Jungwonâs hair as he peeks his head out of the car window, but even that is not enough to stop the ever-so tumultuous feeling in his stomach.
His disease is getting worse. Initially, heâd only throw up after being close to you for prolonged periods of time, or when you sat a little too close for comfort, a little too close to even function. The petals were annoying, and it felt hard to breathe at times, but it was bearable enough that he could deal with it. He could pretend everything was fine when you stared him in the eyes or when your voice fluttered through his ears.
Itâs harder now, though, because even the mere thought of you is enough for him to find solace in the Hello Kitty bucket again. There are more petals, too, stained with blood at the tips as if they really are a part of his body and not some figment of his imagination. He chokes on his words more often, always accompanied by a cough and wheezing. Heâs gotten paler, enough that he has to apply copious amounts of foundation to resemble his usual self, and his lips are chapped from the number of times heâs had to throw up in the past month.
Jay has moved into his apartment indefinitely, treating him like a sick patient because, well, thatâs what he is. Thereâs no cure, no medicine that can make him feel better, and he has to suffer with this terminal illness until he either dies or kills himself at your altar. Jungwon just hopes he dies after your wedding, while youâre blissfully aware on your honeymoon with Sunghoon. He hopes that when he dies, your last memories of him consist of nothing but happiness.
The Hello Kitty bucket joins him on the way to the cake shop, becoming a permanent fixture in his hands as Jay drives in the seat next to him. Jayâs fingers grip his thigh every time Jungwon coughs, but he manages to make it to the store in one piece.
At least, until he sees Sunghoonâs car parked outside, and all that he has tried to hold back spills out (all the secrets he has buried, one flower at a time).
âItâs okay,â Jay says, wiping the blood from the corner of Jungwonâs mouth, âIâll be here. Iâll come up with dumb excuses when you need a break.â
The soft aromatics of the bakery waft through Jungwonâs senses as he steps out, and he just prays that heâll be able to hold on for long enough today in your presence. He wonders how heâs supposed to survive your actual wedding if he can barely even make it through cake testing today, but he knows heâll have to figure out a way without making you suspicious of whatâs going on.
As much as he hates that Sunghoon loves you, itâs hard not to see why. Youâre incredibly perceptive, even having noticed the lack of color in Jungwonâs skin despite his best efforts to try and hide it. Youâve seen how much heâs been coughing recently, even calling him more often to check in on him. You make him chicken noodle soup when he feels notably worse, and even if he doesnât have the heart to see you, you deliver little gift baskets to his door with medicine. If anything, the question is, how could someone not love you?
The doorbell jingles when you walk in, and your eyes immediately light up when Jungwon walks in. Already, youâre skipping over to him and shoving some flavor of cake in his mouth. Knowing you, youâre probably on some sugar rush from all the sweetness, but if anything, it just makes you seem even more adorable in his eyes.
âRed velvet,â he says through bites and shaking his head, âItâs good, but itâs a hit or miss for a wedding cake.â
âBack to the drawing board,â Sunghoon sighs behind you, picking up another slice of cake and sliding it over to Jungwon. He shovels it into his mouth, already grimacing at the sour lemon taste and glancing over to see your reaction.
âGod, I hate this,â you say, and Jungwon hands you the water glass before you can even reach for it. You thank him before taking a big swig, finishing the water in the cup, and you step aside to refill it with Sunghoon in tow.
âCan you be any more obvious?â Jay whispers from his side, and Jungwon quirks an eyebrow.
âWhat are you talking about?â
âCome on, man. You look at her with googly eyes. You have to be a little more subtle with these kinds of things before Sunghoon catches on.â
âYeah, but,â Jungwon sighs, running his hands through his hair, âthatâs how weâve always been.â
âYou have to understand that it canât be like that anymore.â Jay rests his palm on Jungwonâs shoulder, gripping it to emphasize his words. âTheyâre getting married. You canât take care of her forever because thatâs Sunghoonâs job, not yours.â
Jungwon already feels it crawling up his throat before Jay can finish, and his feet fly towards the bathroom, locking the door behind him as he empties his stomach. Jungwon watches in horror as the once white petals are now blood-stained to the core, soaked in deep red as they make their way down the drain. One look in the mirror shows the blood coating his lips, and he tries his best to wipe off the residue so he doesnât leave the bathroom looking like a vampire.
Loving you is destroying him, he admits to himself with a bitter laugh. Heâs living in this sick, twisted version of fate where heâs punished for wanting what his heart desires.Â
(When in reality, loving you has always been a form of punishment for him. Watching you at your college graduation as Sunghoon pulls you in closer with your purple graduation stole, leaving featherlight kisses on your cheeks as if you two were the only ones to exist in this world. Knowing that, as he recorded you throwing your graduation cap high in the air, heâd never be enough for you. The sleepless nights when heâs agonized over you, haunted by being in your shadow because heâs simply not worth it, have already burned his soul to ashes. His heart is already a decayed, shriveled version of what couldâve been; heâs just too late to realize it.)
Jay is waiting for him by the door as he steps out. One look at his face, and Jay can already tell how much worse his condition has become, but he chooses not to comment on it as they walk back into the room.
âAre you okay?â you ask, scanning his face in worry as he walks over to you. âYou were in there for a while.â
âYeah. My stomach was kind of acting up from the lemon flavor.â
âI didnât like that one either,â Sunghoon responds, eyes trailing over Jungwon before his brows furrow. âHey, you have something on your lips.â
Jungwonâs thumb runs over the corner, pulling back to reveal a smidge of blood heâd missed in the bathroom. He pales, and Jay tenses up next to him, trying to think of an excuse so you wouldnât overanalyze things.
âItâs probably from the dark chocolate raspberry, right?â
Jungwon laughs, dry and hollowed out. âYeah! I had a lot cause it was pretty good.â
âI wanna try,â you say, scanning the tables for the flavor. Your fingers reach for the cup, and Jungwon watches your eyes light up as the fork disappears behind your lips. âThis is pretty good,â you say between muffled bites, ânot too sweet and not too tart.â
Sunghoon grips your shoulder, and you turn slowly, facing him with wide eyes. Your eyes lock, and he blinks once, twice, a silent exchange passing between you both before he pulls back to disappear behind the cake counter.Â
(Jungwon canât help the bitter taste in his mouth that spreads when he looks at you. Once, that was you and he, sharing secrets between your eyes in a language you both could only understand. Now, he has to watch his form of love being exhibited by another. A love that heâs now a bystander in front of.)
âThanks for the save,â Jungwon whispers to his hyung when the noise has settled down.
âDonât mention it.â
Jay passes him a leftover cake slice, and Jungwon shakes his head. The back of his throat burns, and he canât tell if itâs from throwing up earlier or the raw intensity of his feelings pounding through his chest every time he looks at you. And even though his heart echoes in his ears, he knows you canât hear it.Â
He has always been on mute for you, just static background noise in a world where only you and Sunghoon exist.
Jungwon doesnât like looking at his reflection in your mirror.
Itâs not that he hates how he looks, per se (although he does look like a shell of his former self, vampirish with how pale his skin is and how chapped his lips are). Heâs just constantly reminded of how out of place he is in your apartment, all long legs, floppy hair, and that constant nagging feeling that he doesnât really know you anymore.
He feels a little more disconnected every time he visits. Even though heâs seen it evolve from beige walls and empty floors, even though there are remnants of him everywhere he looks, heâs always felt like an outsider looking in.Â
From the stain on your carpet when he spilled beer in a drunken stupor to the cat magnet on your fridge, which heâd bought at an Asian market years ago, physically, he knows you. However, Sunghoonâs things scattered throughout the apartment remind him that, emotionally, you are not the same person you once were. A casual hoodie draped over the bar stool is enough to make his stomach stir.
(These days, he has to focus on breathing. In and out. In and out. However, so many ins and so many outs cannot help him hide how left out he feels in your presence. He hates to bear witness to you and Sunghoon sharing glances, as if he is the only one that matters to you. He hates the thought of Sunghoon trailing kisses down your stomach, of whispering breathy words against your thighs like a poem made just for you. He hates knowing that no matter how much Sunghoon loves you, he could love you better.)
Jay was right. Your eyes donât search for his anymore. They search for Sunghoonâs.
âStop thinking,â Jay chastises. âI can practically hear your thoughts from here.â
He canât, though. To him, youâre second nature, a permanent fixture in the back of his mind like an itch that wonât stop bugging him. Itâs so irrevocably easy for him to think of you because he searches for you in everything. In every flower bouquet he passes by at the market, in every banana pudding recipe he finds on the internet, in every gray cat he sees running by on the street. Asking him to stop thinking of you would mean losing the very thing thatâs been keeping him going.
He hears Jay sigh beside him, turning to place an envelope and a wedding invitation card in his hand.
âFocus on this first. You can think about her when you cry yourself to sleep at night.â
Jungwon nods, slipping the card inside the pocket absentmindedly. His heart is never really there during your wedding preparations, or really anything that has involved you lately, but he hopes you appreciate the effort he puts into trying to show up. Itâs hard, especially when he feels the blood swirl in his stomach after seeing your name carved next to Sunghoonâs on the envelope, but heâd rather sacrifice his happiness for yours instead of being apart from you.
Heâs gotten better at training himself, though. Focusing on his breathing and counting down from ten seems to do the trick most of the time. However, it comes with a heavy price tag. The blood gets worse when he holds back, and it almost feels like heâs hyperventilating once he does find a chance to empty his stomach. Itâs always worse in your presence, too, but good thing youâre not here today, leaving your friends to mail out the invitations as you figure out the decorations.
âJungwon,â Jake calls out from beside him, âdo you think the white stamp or the gold stamp looks better?â He flashes both colors in front of Jungwonâs face, the lights glittering from the clear reflection of the gold one.
âGold. Sheâll like that itâs shiny.â
Subconsciously, his eyes flicker toward Sunghoon, looking at him for approval. He nods, not looking up from the table, and Jungwonâs eyes linger before turning back to his own task.
Jungwon doesnât really harbor any resentment towards Sunghoon. Heâs always viewed him through your eyes, always your boyfriend before anything else. Itâs not like heâs done anything wrong other than being the unfortunate human being that you happened to be in love with, the person that took everything away from him. Itâs hard to see why not, too, because Sunghoon loves in that silent, caregiving way that you donât realize until you really get to know him. Sticky notes you find on the counter after you come home from work, dishes cleaned if youâre feeling particularly down, holding your hand in his jacket pocket because he loves deeply, not openly. In many ways, Sunghoon is everything Jungwon has ever wanted to be for you.
Jungwon has always wondered if Sunghoon knows about the extent of his feelings towards you. He always stares into Jungwon as if heâs reading his soul, with that piercing gaze thatâs not harsh or unkind but rather, telling. Theyâre not ridiculously close, but they play video games together sometimes and share a cup of coffee after a long few weeks. Sometimes, late at night, when Jungwon gets roped into Jayâs drinking escapades and doesnât want you to know, Sunghoon will pick him up and let him sleep over. Heâs always gone by the time Jungwon wakes up, but he never leaves without leaving fresh hangover soup and painkillers on the bedside table next to him.
Sunghoon is not a bad person, which makes everything incredibly difficult. In fact, heâs the ideal boyfriend, and the guilt eats Jungwon alive whenever he interacts with you and Sunghoon stares a little too long.
âJungwon,â he hears. It takes him a moment to register that he zoned out, staring at Sunghoonâs face. Sunghoon smiles awkwardly before asking him if heâs alright.
âSorryâ I was just lost in thought.â
Sunghoon hums, and he feels Jayâs stare burning into him as Sunghoon continues.
âActually, I wanted to talk to you about the orchestra arrangement.â He stands abruptly, beckoning Jungwon to follow him into the kitchen.
Already, Jungwon has that sinking feeling in his stomach because he knows this conversation will be about anything but the orchestra arrangement. He wipes his sweaty palms against his cardigan, and Sunghoon frowns.
âLook, Jungwon. Weâre all excited for this wedding, and Iâm sure you are too, but if itâs too much, weâll understand, okay?â
Jungwon looks at him with a blank stare.
âIâ I just mean, you just look exhausted, Won. And I know that,â Sunghoon sighs, running his fingers through his hair as if heâs bracing himself, âI know that Iâm not exactly your best friend, but Iâm here if you want to talk about it. I care about you, even if it doesnât seem like it.â
Jungwon feels horrible. In his mind, itâs always been him and you, or you and Sunghoon, but heâs never really considered how Sunghoon thinks about him. Sunghoon is genuine, caring about Jungwonâs health, even though heâs five seconds away from ruining his marriage.
(Jungwon doesnât deserve any of the good around him. Not Jay, who loves him more than he loves himself. Not Sunghoon, who has always tried to be there for him when no one else was. Not even you, who cares for him even when there is nothing left to care for.)
âIâve just been feeling a little under the weather, hyung. Iâm feeling a lot better, so donât worry about it.â He coughs, and Sunghoon looks unconvinced. âI promise.â
âAre you sure, I meanââ Sunghon starts, reaching out with his fingers in an attempt to graze his cheek. Jungwon flinches, and his fingers pause midair. âSorry, youâre probably right. Iâm just overthinking.â
Sunghoon has that shyness to him, the one that makes his cheeks pink. He looks guilty, and Jungwonâs heart breaks.
âThank you for checking up on me, though, hyung. It means a lot.â
Sunghoon smiles, but it doesnât reach his eyes. Jungwon turns to leave before the room feels too suffocating, before the walls close in on him and taunt him for how much of a horrible human being he is, but he pauses once he feels Sunghoonâs palm on his shoulder.
âWait, Jungwon, Iââ he pauses, trying to find the right words. âI know, Jungwon.â
Jungwon stills.
âI know that you love her.â
It feels like his heart is decomposing, burning alive from just the mere mention of you. It hurts a little too much, and he doesnât even register that heâs crying until he sees the droplets staining the floor. Heâs not standing in your apartment anymore, crafting wedding invitations with his friends and debating what color looks better under your cheap lighting. All that he now knows is himself, the tears that slide down his face, and the weight of Sunghoon standing behind him.
âIâm sorry, Jungwon-ah. Iâm so sorry,â Sunghoon chokes out. Sunghoonâs fingers grip his shoulder tightly, and Jungwon can distinctly feel the way he trembles underneath Sunghoonâs touch.
He can feel the cool metal of Sunghoonâs rings through his thin shirt. The tears fall too freely now, silently as if heâs afraid to make himself known, and a singular teardrop finds its place against the smooth skin of Sunghoonâs hand.
âWhy are you apologizing?â Jungwon whispers so quietly that heâs not even sure Sunghoon hears it. His chest feels too tight, as if heâs curled into a cocoon. âI should be the one apologizing. Itâs my fault.â
Jungwon has been hearing a lot of apologies lately. Apologies for loving too much, apologies for loving not enough. He doesnât really know whether he deserves these apologies, if they really mean anything, or are just words that are intended to fill that gaping hole in his heart, but what he does know is that heâs sick and tired of hearing them. These apologies symbolize that there is something to blame, someone who is guilty, when really, there is only one culprit here.
When really, everything is his fault. Jungwon is the one who learned to love, and now he has to learn to forget. The apologies that fly around his head, whether of pity or sorrow, are worthless to him because, if anything, he is the one who should be saying sorry. Sorry to Sunghoon, sorry to Jay, sorry to you, and sorry to the universe for loving so much that it hurts even to mention it.
âI was too selfish,â Sunghoon whispers. The word sounds foreign in his voice, too unassuming and soft, as if Sunghoon doesnât even know what it really means.
Jungwon laughs bitterly. Right then and there, he realizes exactly why you fell for Sunghoon and not him.
Sunghoon is too kind to the world. He cares about everyone and everything, from the little caterpillars in the weeds to the dandelion waiting for its dying wish. Jungwon is the opposite. His heart is blood-stained. He feels only for one person, you, and only you. His heart beats too fast because his love for you is like that, someone who feels too much and too intensely. Jungwonâs love is ruination, destroying everything along its path until itâs just the two of you in this universe.
Maybe Sunghoon is selfish, but at least he knows moderation. Jungwonâs love has no limits. He only knows how to take, to take and suck you dry until all you know is him.
âYouâre not the selfish one, hyung. Itâs me. Itâs always been me.â
After he goes home, he throws up. Jay brushes his hair out of his face, and when Jungwon pulls back, all that meets his eye is dark, soul-crushing blood. No more petals. Just blood.
âMaybe you should tell her,â Jay suggests off-handedly as Jungwon drinks water. âIt might be good to let it out of your system.â
He canât, is what he tries to tell Jay. He canât because admitting he loves you is like confessing the worst of his mistakes. Speaking it into existence will only force him to confront the horrifying truth that you always viewed him as a best friend, or worse, a brother, and he would rather live with the what-ifs and the daydreams than let you leave because of one stupid confession.
Instead, he finds himself nodding. âSure,â he squeaks out miserably, with every intention of not doing what heâs told. And then he throws up once more.
Jungwon wakes up from a nightmare.
He doesnât remember what exactly itâs about, only that heâs now dehydrated and his phone is buzzing on the counter next to him despite how late it is.
He sees your name flashing on the screen, and heâs already tugging on his jeans as he answers. Itâs like clockwork to him, answering your calls, worrying about you even though youâre probably fine, but he still canât stop his racing heart or his trembling hands.
Itâs as if his brain is hardwired for you. Every beat of his heart, every blink of his eyes, every twitch of his legs, itâs all for you. Jungwon has never lived a single moment without being reminded of your existence in some shape or form. He has never lived a single moment without knowing how to love you.
âHello?â he asks, almost tripping over his keys.
It takes him a few moments to recognize you crying on the other end.
âWhere are you?â he whispers, gentler this time, so as not to scare you away.
âPractice room,â you mumble, so softly as if you donât want to say it.
He finds you slouched on the ground as he walks into the studio a couple of minutes later, tears staining your light-washed jeans as you furrow into yourself. Youâre not crying anymore, not visibly, but somehow knowing that this is the aftermath makes him feel ten times worse.
Heâs never really heard you cry before. He knows youâre a private person, someone who likes to share your happiness but keep your sadness to yourself. So, the fact that he could hear your hiccups over the phone meant you were holding back too long, trying to do it all and ruining yourself to the point where you couldnât hold back your tears anymore.
He hates that you never recognize heâs right here for you. All heâs ever wanted was to be the person you could lean upon, the chest you could curl into as you cried your heart out. He wants to be that person that you share your sorrows with, the one to take hold of your burdens and shoulder them himself, but you never let him do it.
(So it brings him, with sickening greed, a small amount of satisfaction to be the one thatâs here for you tonight. Even though his mind tells him not to, even though his body physically forbids him to be near you, his heart only beats your name as he slides down next to you.)
âWhatâs wrong?â
âItâs stupid,â you mutter. Your fingers pick at the dry skin near your fingernails, and he can see the redness of your eyes as you look up at him. âYou shouldnât have come.â
âI wonât judge,â he says, repeating himself when you donât respond. âPlease.â
You sigh. âHoon and I had dance practice today. You know, for our first dance. But Iââ you laugh, wiping away the tears that make their appearance, âI canât seem to do it right. He moves so effortlessly, and it feels like Iâm stumbling and picking up the pieces. Itâs dumb, but I canât stop thinking about not being good enough.â
One thing Jungwon has learned about you, so subtle that he doesnât even think Sunghoon knows it yet, is that youâre fragile. He knows you hold your heart in pieces, begging the universe to glue you back together, even though he knows it canât. So, in lieu of the universe, Jungwon tries. You never give him direct liberty to, but he holds you. He holds you and your broken pieces, and even though it eats him alive that he canât help you more than this, somehow, it works. It always works for you because he treads carefully, gently, never pushing too hard to keep you grounded.
Right now, as you stare up at him with glossy eyes and the world in your hands, Jungwon knows he has to prove to you that, truly, you are enough. Just as he always has, like when you failed your physics exam in ninth grade, or when you didnât get that promotion at work even though you tried so hard for it. All he knows in this life is how to be there for you, even if youâre not there for him.
He takes your hand in his, pulling you up from the floor as he turns on the music. âLetâs practice. Iâll help you until you get it right.â
A soft melody floats through the air, spinning around the two of you until heâs clutching your waist. His touch is so light that heâs pretty sure you can barely even feel it, but already heâs regretting being in such close proximity with you as the blood swirls throughout his stomach. Your hands clasp each other behind, wrapped around his neck, and you canât see the way Jungwon stares at you because your eyes focus on the ground with staggered steps. You stumble as he moves you left, and then right, and the concentration in your gaze wavers as you try not to step on his feet.
âI canât do this, Iââ
âShh,â he whispers. Your arms loosen, and he grips your waist a little tighter. âThis isnât a performance. Itâs just a dance.â
Youâre still unconvinced, a frown working its way onto your face. One of his hands comes up to cradle your chin, tilting your face up so that you can meet his gaze.
âJust focus on me.â
You let Jungwon lead you, your eyes never leaving his as the music flows between you both. A slight blush makes its way across his cheeks, but he reminds himself to focus on the steps, back and forth, as if youâre not right in front of him. Jungwon moves like magic, flitting across the dance floor as if he has wings, and you quickly learn how to soar with him, to match his pace and create a rhythm of your own. He notices how relaxed youâve become when he dips you, a little too low, and you just giggle and hold onto him tighter.Â
âThought you were going to drop me,â you gasp after he lets you up. He shakes his head, twirling you around before bringing you in.
âNever,â he murmurs. âI would never drop you.â
Heâs so close that he can see the texture on your skin and the light reflecting across your hair. Your irises seem to swirl, lulling him in, and your lips have the curve of a faint smile that heâs worked hard to bring back to your face. Heâs so close that he could kiss you, so close that every inch of his curiosity could be satisfied if he just leaned in, but the music behind him slows to a stop as you pull away from his grasp.
âThank you,â you say, breathless. Then, teasingly, âIt would be easier if it were you up there with me instead of Sunghoon, right?â
And suddenly, Jungwon remembers his nightmare. It wasnât really a nightmare, not something that was frightening enough for his heart to race in fear. Instead, it was a dream tinged with blurred lines and all his what-ifs, a dream of him kissing you after your first dance and how brightly youâd smiled. It was a dream tinged with his blood, a dream that could never be true because you would never think to look at him the way he looks at you.
You busy yourself with packing up your stuff, too focused to see the absolute pain on Jungwonâs face as he clutches the barre next to him. The world caves in around him, and he has to try his absolute hardest to wave goodbye to you as if heâs not crumbling on the inside. Of course, his feelings are nothing but a joke to you, as if theyâre not the very reason heâs currently on his deathbed surrounded by a pool of flowers.
He wishes it were him, too. As the blood spills from his lips, dripping down his face, his arms, down to the very floor he stands on, all he wishes is that it could be him dancing with you, being in your arms legitimately, instead of yearning from afar as he twirled you around today.
Maybe, if it really were him dancing with you at the end, this wouldnât be his last dance alive.
You look happy.
Itâs the first thing he notices as you climb into the car, already a little tipsy from the alcohol youâd consumed at your pregame. Your friends, not faring much better than you, help you keep your balance as you buckle your seatbelt and motion for him to start the car. You look genuinely happy. Not just in the way a drunk person looks, but in the way that itâs infectious. You radiate with that kind of energy that makes him want to tug close and kiss the life out of you.
The streetlights twinkle through the window as he drives, filtering out the loud bass of your music and your friends singing along in the backseat. The club youâd chosen for your bachelorette party was a little far from your apartment, but your group doesnât really seem to mind as they control the aux on his phone and queue another Britney Spears song. The air is charged with that upbeat feeling, the kind that has him drumming his fingers along to the music as he steps on the gas.
He notices your silence in the front seat, watching your head tilt out of the window and the wind whipping through your hair. Usually, youâd be singing along, especially after a little bit of alcohol in your system, but you seem lost in thought today, and it makes him a little worried.
âYou okay?â he asks. He wonders if you even hear him over the loud karaoke of your friends, but you turn back to him with a soft smile.
âYeah. Itâs all just kind of hitting me right now, you know?â
âWhat, the alcohol?â
Thereâs a soft pause before you look back at the window, pressing the button and watching it roll up.
âNo, the wedding,â you say, playing with your engagement ring absentmindedly. âIt just feels so surreal.â
Jungwon chooses to say nothing, turning up the volume of the music instead. He feels your eyes on him, but he doesnât know what to say as he grips the steering wheel tighter. Heâs glad he chose to stay sober tonight because maybe he wouldâve responded with something not particularly appropriate. Perhaps he wouldâve decided to tell you that he does wish this wedding were just a figment of his imagination. Maybe, he wouldâve told you that heâs scheduled to die soon because of your surreal wedding, your surreal love for Sunghoon, and his not very surreal love for you.
He doesnât say any of that, though. He keeps his emotions in check and drives, watching the headlights of the car next to him race by. He drives until the bright neon lights of the bar flash through the mirror, and he barely has a chance to park before you and your friends clamber out, giddy with excitement.
The club has this dizzying sort of atmosphere, the flickering lights from the dance floor and the loudness of the music hitting him all at once. He feels like he canât breathe, he really, really canât breathe, and heâs already making his way to the bathroom before you have a chance to drag him to the center.
I canât do this, he texts Jay. The multicolored ceiling tiles blur before his eyes as he slumps against the bathroom stall door. He hears someone throwing up next to him, and he wonders briefly that if everything were normal, that if he werenât dying because you loved him back, maybe heâd be a drunk idiot throwing up in his Hello Kitty bucket too.
Heâs not normal, though. Every time he inhales, it feels painful as if somethingâs stuck in his throat. His voice has become too raspy, and he swears he can feel the weight of his lungs through every breath, pounding against him particularly hard whenever heâs near you. Every ticking moment reminds him that you are genuinely content with all this. Content with Sunghoon, content with this wedding, and content living a life Jungwon may not even be in.
He doesnât know how long he stays in the bathroom stall, pouring his feelings out, but he wipes the blood off with a tissue and leaves the stall. His eyes look bloodshot in the mirror, and his heart pounds with every beat of the EDM music reverberating through him. He hasnât had a sip of alcohol, but this is the sort of effect you have on him, world-spinning and regret seeping through his every vein.
His eyes scan the dance floor for you, and he relaxes slightly when he finds you swinging your arms in the air to a Charli XCX song. Youâre in your own little world as your friends dance around you, and Jungwon feels like heâs standing on the edge of it, one foot in and one foot out. It's as if heâs almost there, but not quite.
(Lately, though, heâs been choosing to stay out. Choosing not to get devoured by the force that is you, all-consuming and leaving him with no room to breathe. Once upon a time, he would choose to drown every time, to feel the burn in his lungs as he swam towards you.
Now, there is no more burning left in his lungs. There is no more you. Itâs just him and his thoughts, floating endlessly in the ocean until the point of no return.)
Heâs scrolling on his phone, slouched against the bar stool, when he hears two taps on the marble next to him. He looks up to find the bartender sliding over a glass of fizzy liquid, topped with a sliced lime and a salted rim.
âOh, I didnât order this,â Jungwon sputters, reaching to push it back, but the bartender clasps his hand and wraps Jungwonâs fingers around the glass.
âItâs on the house, and itâs non-alcoholic, so donât worry about it.â The bartender smiles, a contagious sort of grin that makes Jungwon want to smile too, and he leans over slightly to speak closer to him. âYou look like you need it.â
Jungwon thanks the bartender, sipping at his drink slowly and feeling the bubbles fizz down his throat. Itâs a Sprite, mixed with something a little fruity, and already it has him feeling lighter than a couple of moments before.
âIâm Sunoo, by the way,â he hears. Sunooâs nameplate flashes from the strobing lights, dancing from all the colors around him. âSo, tell me, which girl is it?â
Jungwon coughs, the drink going down the wrong pipe, and Sunoo merely blinks, watching him.
Jungwon sighs, running his fingers through his hair. âIs it that obvious?â
âYouâre like a dejected puppy. Even a five-year-old could probably tell.â
Jungwon sips at his drink, carrying it while peeking back over his shoulder. His eyes search until they land on your figure, now at the far left near the DJ.
âThat one, over there,â he says, pointing at you. âThe one in the white.â
âSheâs pretty,â Sunoo says absentmindedly, and Jungwon finds himself agreeing before turning back to face him. âDid she reject you?â
âNo,â Jungwon starts. His throat feels parched, suddenly, despite his dedication to sipping the drink in his hands. âIâ I never told her. Sheâs getting married next week.â
Sunooâs gaze softens. âOh. Iâm sorry.â
The drink tastes bitter now, prickling in Jungwonâs mouth. His lips press into a line as his fingers play with the straw in his glass. He swishes it, around and around, watching the little cyclone that appears when he moves the straw too fast. He wants to tell Sunoo that itâs okay. Thereâs no reason to apologize, and heâs sick of every sorry that comes his way because itâs fine. In a normal world, Jungwon would have moved on, slowly but surely, and heâd have come back to this bar in the future as a healed person.
Itâs not okay, though. Itâs not okay because how can Jungwon move on when you make up every inch of him? How can Jungwon move on when the reason he lives and dies is because of you? You pour life into him and take it away from him all at the same time. You are the one to poison him and you are the one to heal him, and Jungwon just has to stand there and take it until he physically isnât able to anymore. Jungwon will never be able to find someone who loves him just as much as he loves you, because he only has space in his heart for you and no other. So even if it means that Sunooâs last memory of Jungwon is right now at this bar, pining after you from afar, heâs forced to accept it.Â
After all, there is no him without you.Â
There is only you without him.
Jungwon should be at the venue already. Instead, heâs lying against his mahogany rug, fingers twisting in the strings that are woven into it as he tries to reach for his phone.
He was having a good day, or at least, he thought he was having a good day. He woke up early to run some errands before work. His presentation proposal went spectacularly well, and there was barely any traffic as he sped home. He got a free hot chocolate today with the welcome of a new month, a new December, and he didnât have to spend any portion of today hunched over a sink waiting for his guts to spill out.
He was having a good day until, well, everything started to go wrong.
He was searching for his keys as he straightened his suit tie and fixed that annoying strand of hair that kept falling in his face. He was on call with Jay, who had offered to drive him to the restaurant where your rehearsal dinner was being held. It was all fine.Â
He was fumbling around for his suit jacket when suddenly, he couldnât breathe. He doesnât know how he ended up on the floor, or how the sharp, radiating pain spread from his lungs to his heart. All he knows is that heâs crying, and Jayâs voice is somewhere distant, telling him to stay calm and to wait for him. He canât respond, every hoarse attempt to speak failing miserably with a cough. His insides feel like theyâre being burned alive, and distinctly he can feel the tears drip down his cheeks, or maybe the blood spill from his mouth.
He canât seem to move, not when he tries to reach for his phone, not when Jay shows up and shakes him by the shoulders, not when the paramedics show up at his apartment and shine a bright light in his eyes. He canât move when heâs hooked up to the oxygen mask, or when the ambulance shudders beneath him and Jayâs tears drip down his arm.
Somewhere along all of this, he fades in and out of consciousness, dizzy from the bright lights and the emergency siren. He canât tell if the pain gets worse or if it gets better, but he tries to focus on the beeping of his heart rate and how grounded Jayâs hand makes him feel.
And throughout all of this, despite his best efforts to ignore it, he thinks of you. He thinks of how youâre probably at your rehearsal dinner right now, holding hands with Sunghoon. Youâre probably talking about how you met him, how you fell in love with him, and how you will continue to love him just as he loves you. Youâre probably talking to all your friends and family and serving your homemade banana pudding recipe that you worked hard to make. He knows you probably have that stupid little grin on your face, the one he sees in his daydreams of you and him, and other words that donât belong together.
Heâs still dreaming about you when he wakes up, barely registering the pain from the IV needle as he scans the room. His eyes land on Jay in the chair next to him, whoâs already rushing over as soon as Jungwonâs eyes open.
âWhere am I?â Jungwon says groggily. His free hand clutches his forehead, aware of the dull headache that rests on the sides of his forehead. âIs this the hospital?â
âJungwon,â Jay breathes, cradling Jungwonâs face. âYouâre awake.â
âHow long was I out for?â
âNot long,â Jay says, pulling away and sitting on the edge of the bed. His fingers clutch Jungwonâs hand tightly, as if heâs still in disbelief over Jungwon breathing and talking right in front of him. âA couple of hours.â
âA couple of hours?â Jungwon shrieks. He tugs the needle from his arm, wincing from the sharp pain as it rips out. âWeâre so late. So late. Sheâs probably waiting for me! I told her I was gonna help set up the decorationsââ
âJungwon,â Jay whispers, gripping his wrist. Jungwon sees the frown lines etched on his face and pauses. âI sent her a text about us being late. She never even responded.â
âNoâ thatâsâ she would never,â Jungwon scoffs. His fingers reach for this phone on the bedside table next to him, dialing your number before Jay can even stop him.
The line rings, once, twice, too many times before the sound of your voicemail filters in. He tries again, and again, and each time feels like a stab to his freshly wounded heart. His eyes fog up, and he canât stop the tears that escape him as he dials over and over again. His tears fall on his phone screen, staining the glass until he canât even click on the call button, and the phone slips from his grasp.
His body pulses in his hyungâs hold as he hugs him, heavy sobs erupting from him as he finally lets go. He lets go of all the pain and misery heâs faced from you, about you, like an asteroid that burns up when it reaches too close to the sun. No matter how hard he tries, itâs impossible for him to accept that heâs just another person in your orbit, fading in and out when you need him.
He remembers all the times heâs centered himself around you. Every moment when he thought he was wanted by you, even if it was just as a friend. Now, all he can see is how convenient, how easy he is for you. How pathetic he is to fall in love with you, to keep loving you even though he knew you would never love him back. And yeah, heâs always there when you need him, but even now, as he sits inches away from his death, youâre never there for him.
âYou always put her before yourself,â Jay murmurs in his shoulder. âEven if sheâs the reason youâre dying, youâre still addicted to her.â
âI canât help it, hyung. I love her.â
Jay exhales, pulling away from Jungwon. Even though Jungwon is stupid, the never-give-up kind of stupid, he appreciates Jay for still trying to save him, even if there is nothing to be saved.
Jay reaches over to grab a folder from the table, the bright blue color matching the print of his hospital gown. He flips through a few pages before pulling out a black, semi-translucent slip of film, flipping it over for Jungwon to see.
It takes a few minutes for Jungwon even to register what heâs seeing. The scan is zoomed in on his upper half, centered on his lungs and vertebrae, but whatâs in his lungs is anything but typical. Flowers bloom through every crevice of his lungs, sprouting, growing as if theyâre meant to be there. Theyâre still small, but Jungwon can already see the buds and even tiny flowers that have sprouted. Thereâs not an inch of space left empty, every alveolus filled with a leaf or a stem or a flower.
âIs this what I was coughing up?â Jungwon asks, fingers tracing his chest where his lungs reside. âThatâs inside of me?â
âYeah. The doctors said that as the disease progressed, there were too many flowers to cough up, so they started growing in you.â Jay speaks with incredulity, as if he canât even believe itâs real.
âWhat do you mean, progressed? Is it not still progressing?â
Jay turns to him, and only then does Jungwon register his bleary eyes and the tear stains that have dried on his cheeks. His fingers tremble as he holds the page, and he speaks so softly as if he refuses to solidify the statementâs existence.
âYouâre in your final stages, Wonie. You have a week left at best until the flowers bloom fully and youâll die of oxygen poisoning.â
Jungwon thinks that if he werenât so adamant about making it to your wedding and seeing you at the altar, he wouldâve killed himself a long time ago. Maybe the day you asked him to be your maid of honor, or maybe even as early as when you got proposed to. Killing himself wouldâve rid him of all this yearning, yearning that presented itself in the form of this disease that takes and takes until his very last breath. This disease, that no matter how hard he tries to avoid, reminds him of you.Â
You with the soft fingers that he wishes he could intertwine his with. You with the eyebrow you always arch expressively when you dislike something. You with the back tattoo of a sparrow thatâs a little chubby, just the way you wanted it. You with the soft voice that heâs blessed to hear through the little song covers youâd always send him. You whoâd never notice the cherry blossoms that fell in your hair, the ones that heâd have to pick out imperceptibly every time.
You who heâs so irrevocably in love with. You, who despite having a heart full of love, have never loved him back.
And then, thereâs him. Jungwon. That same Jungwon, with a heart full of love to give only to you. Jungwon, who stays by your side even if you never notice it. That same Jungwon, who worries about you when there is nothing to worry about. That same Jungwon, who kept a mental list of your favorite foods so you wonât feel indecisive at restaurants. That same Jungwon, who holds your hair when you drink a little too much and whispers that itâs okay in your ears, that itâll all be over before you know it.
They say moles are marks of where your soulmate kissed you in your previous life. Jungwon knows where all of yours are: the one on your eyebrow, the two on your lower torso, the ones on your hands that he noticed when he interlocked fingers with you, and even the one on your forearm that he memorized as he watched you fall asleep during a sleepover. He doesnât know if he was your soulmate that kissed those moles into existence in a previous life, or in any life at all, but heâs tried his hardest to be the one for you, even if youâre destined for another.
And even now, knowing that you two are never fated to be together in this life, heâll still try. Because who is he, if he doesnât even exist to love you?
And distinctly, he remembers the time he did confess to you. The time that he tells no one about because itâs a moment too pathetic to remember.
It was during break, the summer before his senior year of college. You and a couple of others, newly graduated seniors, were at a karaoke bar five minutes away from campus. Jungwon had to watch as you cozied up to Sunghoon from the other end of the couch, a little too drunk and a little too loose. His heart had simmered beneath him, tinged with jealousy every time Sunghoon had pressed a kiss to your cheek or pulled you closer.
He didnât really mean to avoid you that day. He just didnât want to third-wheel you and your boyfriend, especially since he was a little tipsy and didnât trust himself to remain sane around you. You looked so happy, with a giddy voice and a bright smile, and he didnât want to do anything to hurt your mood.
So, he stayed on the other side of the room. Even when you wanted him to join you in a karaoke battle, to that one song you always queued while he drove you around, he shook his head and remained in his spot. He didnât drink too much, just enough to feel the buzz, but he still couldnât shake off how pretty you looked in that dress, or how much you laughed as you curled into Sunghoonâs side.
After some point, the lights in the room and the loud bass of the music start to get too suffocating. He excuses himself for some air, grabbing the empty boxes from the food youâd ordered to throw them away. He doesnât notice your eyes on him as he balances the carts and slides open the door.
The hallway is long and winding, and by the time Jungwon finds the trashcan and a water fountain, heâs a little out of breath. The walk has sobered him up a little bit, so he doesnât feel as dizzy as he was when he walked here on the way back. He turns, wiping the corner of his mouth from the dribble of water that slid down, but he finds you standing right behind him instead, with a frown on your face and a bottle of Pink Whitney in your hands.
Already, he knows youâre more shitfaced since the last time he saw you. Pink Whitney has never treated you kindly, and as he sees you struggle to stand upright with your heels on, he knows youâve passed that limit of tipsiness and charted into dangerous, drunken territory, the kind that he knows youâll regret the next morning.
âThatâs enough of that,â he says, grabbing the bottle. You protest weakly, attempting to snatch it back, but he holds it behind his back so you canât reach. âWhy did you leave the room? You can barely walk.â
âI missed you,â you hiccup. He notices how your tears pool in your eyes, as if you donât want to cry but canât really stop it. âWhy have you been avoiding me?â
âWhat?â he breathes. He didnât really think youâd notice the distance that heâd tried to maintain, assuming you were too preoccupied with Sunghoon to even care that he made no effort to talk to you.
âYou refused to share your fries with me. You always share your fries with me.â Youâre full-on sobbing at this point, and your fingers find home in his jacket lapel as you sniffle. âDid I do something wrong? Why do you hate me?â
His heart hurts seeing you like this, being the reason that youâre reduced to this mess. His arms curl around you, pulling you in closer so he can rest his head on your shoulder. Your fingers grip his jacket tightly, and heâs too focused on your feelings to notice how your tears stain his shirt.
âWhy would I hate you?â he murmurs against your ear. âDonât say stupid things like that.â
And he means it. Not one inch of his body could feel any sort of resentment towards you, no matter how hard he tried. He wishes it could, so he could hate you peacefully and move on from all the grief heâs been shouldering, but thereâs some invisible string tied between you two that he canât seem to break, no matter how far he goes.
âThen why havenât you talked to me today?â
He sighs, thumbing the strands of your hair. âI was just giving you space since you were with Sunghoon.â
You pull back, and through your glossy tears, he sees your lips pull into a pout.
âBut, I want you too.â
You say it so simply, as if itâs easy for him to accept how you still want him in your life, even though you already have the world with Sunghoon. So simply, as if itâs easy for him to admit that sometimes you love unfairly, and he doesnât have it in him to seek anything otherwise. So simply, as if itâs easy for him to accept how you still want him even though you have no more love left to give.
Like a puppy on a leash, he glows after hearing those words, even if they hold no weight coming from you. He cradles your face, brushing away the tear streaks across your cheeks.
âYou already have me,â he says honestly. âIâm already yours.â
You smile with your eyes closed. Itâs the kind of smile thatâs earnest, one that stretches across your whole face. Jungwon would run to the ends of the universe if it meant he could see it again.
âI love you.â
The confession slips out of his mouth, raw and unfiltered, as he stops breathing. He didnât mean to admit it, especially not in front of you like this with your boyfriend a few rooms over. It was supposed to be a secret he carried to his grave, not some abrupt confession he said in hushed tones in front of a karaoke bar water fountain. He was supposed to say it on that day, the day when the cherry blossoms bloomed, and he wore that white shirt to match the flowers in his arms. He wasnât supposed to say it like this, holding an uninhibited version of you and taking advantage of the fact that youâre not sober enough to process his words.
He stills, like a frame paused, in time waiting for your reaction. He knows youâre going to hate him, not want him anymore, even if itâs selfishly, and he knows this is the last time heâll ever get to see you like this. His heart pounds against his chest, erratic as if itâs escaping, and he canât seem to find the words to apologize or take it all back before you slip from his grasp.
You donât do any of that, though. You remain in his hold, with his fingers holding you like a porcelain doll, and that soft smile. Instead, your hands wrap around his, your fingers sliding between the crevices as you open your eyes.
âI love you so much, too, Wonie. Youâre the bestest friend ever. My best friend.â
His lungs release the breath he didnât even know he was holding, but itâs not loud enough to disguise the sound of his heart breaking. You donât hear it, of course, oblivious to the tumultuous storm that rages inside him, and you just pull him tighter as you hug him again.
He cries. He cries against you just as you cried against him, only stronger with the weight of all his unsaid confessions pouring out of him. Itâs silent enough for your drunk self not to notice, but the droplets plink against your hair, and he has to wipe away the tears rapidly before you catch on. It hurts so, so much. It hurts more than anything else heâs ever felt because, while youâre the center of the universe to him, he means nothing to you. While youâre everything to him, heâs just a fleeting moment to you.
Unmistakably, he wonders if anything wouldâve even changed had he confessed to you properly then. Or if anything wouldâve even changed if he confessed to you now, mere days before your wedding. If maybe the pain in his lungs wouldâve eased away, if maybe the flowers wouldâve withered and died right inside him.
Deep down, though, he knows that confession wouldnât have healed him one bit, because you have never felt anything for him in return. From the very first time he laid eyes upon you, sculpting castles in the sandbox alone, to now, he has always cared for you and your impression of him. Even when that impression is anything but what he really is, what he really wants to be, he still cares.
He knows that even if he confessed to you, the flowers in his heart would still continue to bloom, unconstrained without the very thing he desires from you: love.
The air is a little breezy today.
Not breezy enough that Jungwon feels cold (although his suit jacket provides him plenty of warmth already), but just enough to make the blades of grass sway softly, as if theyâre dancing along to the faint melody of the music in the background. Itâs early in the morning, a time when he can still hear the birds chirping and the sun rays peeking above the horizon.
On a regular day, heâd still be in bed waiting for his alarm clock to ring. Or maybe heâd be hungover from a long weekend with his friends, choosing to sleep in and ignore a headache. Today, though, he stands under the drapes of the altar, next to the podium where Sunghoon shifts nervously.
Waiting for you.
Jungwonâs fingers fumble with the flower in his pocket, a singular, white chrysanthemum against the black of his suit. Your bridesmaids have the same flowers as corsages, but Jungwonâs is different because the flower rests right in front of his heart, beating, echoing with every pulse.
And already, Jungwon knows today is his last day alive, because today is your wedding. Today is the day heâll lose you forever, the day that you step out of every daydream of his and into another manâs. Standing here, as your man of honor, is the most twisted punishment the universe could make him face. On the day of his reckoning, instead of wishing him away with peace, youâve decided to make him bear witness to the very act that caused his ruin.
Sunghoon stares at him knowingly. He canât tell if itâs with pity, or even worse, with pride.
All Jungwon wants is to get this over with. Heâs agonized over this moment for months now, from the beginning of autumn to last night as he wrote his man of honor speech. Once upon a time, he had hoped he would be able to accept your marriage with a healed heart. Now, as the music shifts into something slower and the audience hushes, he knows he will leave with nothing but pain. With nothing but pure, raw desire simmering through his heart and burning every flower that grows inside of him until he no longer remains.
He feels like heâs dreaming when he finally sees you.
You, in your long, white gown, with handwoven patterns of silk and thread stitched across the front. A dress with patterns of all kinds of flowers, patterns of every stem and leaf that glimmer against the white cloth. The flowers sprout against the exterior of the mesh, with petals that sway with every step as you make your way to the altar.
And beyond all that, youâre wearing that smile. That same smile that heâd give up everything for. That same smile heâs yearned for his entire life, from the very first moment up until now. That same smile that heâs now dying for.
He doesnât recognize his breath staggering until he feels lightheaded, hands finding purchase on the decoration behind him as he steps back. Iâm so close, not now, is all he can think as you step even closer to the platform. He starts to see spots in his vision, black circles dancing around, and heâs thankful enough that everyoneâs eyes are too focused on you to see him stepping off to the side and rushing to the bathroom.
Jungwon doesnât make it that far, though. His eyesight blurs around him, and his fingers grip some random door handle before he stumbles inside. Faintly, he can recognize the mess of your makeup room around him, but he trips over a spare piece of clothing and falls before he can fully register his surroundings.
Sharp, dull pain blooms on the side of his head, but he canât seem to move his arms to feel for any blood that mightâve been triggered from his fall. The pain in his head is nothing compared to the strain on his lungs now, though, as if every breath of his is poison. His senses are painfully aware of the weird, cracking noise inside him, but he canât seem to figure out what itâs from. His ribcage? His neck? His throat? Or maybe even everything? He feels like heâs choking on air as the blood spills from his lips. His speech, the man of honor speech that holds everything he wanted to say to you one last time, falls out of his jacket pocket, and blood drips across the corner as if itâs ink. He canât move, he canât breathe, he canât even think anymore as his vision fades out into nothingness.
And even in his final moments, like this, he remembers you. This universe is so, so unkind to him, to his soul that hoped to see you like this one more time before he left forever. Oh, how he wishes he were still alive to watch you recite your vows. To hear what itâs like to be loved by you, to be cherished until death do us part. To hear what maybe, in another life, what was meant for him instead of Sunghoon.
As it all comes crashing down before his eyes, all he wishes is that you will find peace. He hopes the flowers that bloom in December will treat you kindly, and every white chrysanthemum will be a poignant reminder that you are always loved. Even if he is not physically present with you on Earth anymore, he will love you through the gentleness of the breeze, through the swaying of the grass blades, through the sun rays that appear before the horizon, and through the smiles of everyone you hold dear to your heart.
And with this clarity, he is able to let go. To let go of all that heâs known of you through every flower that blooms in his heart. To let go of a timeline in which you and he coexist.
To let go of you, and therefore, him. Because without you, there is no him. And without him, there is only you.
Jay has never understood love. Or rather, the unbecoming of it.Â
But he has never seen it ruin someone so wretchedly as it did Jungwon.
Itâs Jay who finds Jungwon first, lifeless in a pool of his own blood and tears. The world blurs around him as he kneels down, shaking Jungwonâs shoulders in every effort, every plea for him to wake up. The words fall on closed ears. Dead ears. Jungwon is long gone, from misery only his heart could produce. Heâs long gone from the flowers that surround every inch of him, buried in his own, sickly love for you.
His fingers clutch tightly onto Jungwonâs man of honor speech, one he refuses to read because he canât justify that torture. Itâs you who needs to read it, to recognize the consequences of your actions, of how greedy you were to have the most wonderful human being beside you and still yearn for another. He needs you to read this speech in all its glory, tear-stained, blood-stained, flower-stained, until you recognize the extent of how much Jungwon truly loved you.Â
Of how much he truly still loves you.
The funeral happens on a Tuesday evening. The once forgiving December now releases its inhibitions, pouring from the sky as if it has been holding back this entire time. The universe thunders with anger and rage, and every strike of lightning is a furious reminder of whatâs all been lost in the process.
Jay stands before Jungwonâs coffin. He has no umbrella to shield him from the fury of the universe, but he doesnât care. He deserves this form of retribution for not trying harder, for not being able to save him, even though there was nothing more he could do for him.
You stand next to him. Sunghoon holds an umbrella above your head, and it sways with the sudden wind gusts and cracks of lightning. You havenât said a word all day. You havenât said a word since you found your best friend dead, veins protruding and eyes rolled to the back of his head.
(Your fingers trembled as you brushed his eyelids shut, watching as they carried him out with a stretcher. Even with his eyes closed, he still looked like he was in pain, shouldering it all upon himself, no matter how hard youâd tried to get him to open up. Youâd wanted to shake him open, for him to let go of everything heâd held back, but he stayed in place, eyes boring into yours as if he had nothing more to say. Closing his eyes felt like finality, like he was finally gone from every memory youâve had together and every memory you were supposed to have together in the future.
Now, all that was left was the remains of him and his soul. You cried against the pool of blood heâd left behind, letting it stain the pearly whites of your gloves until you drowned in his essence.)
Jay watches as you grab something from Sunghoonâs hold, walking over to the edge of Jungwonâs grave. The freshly buried dirt sinks slightly under your steps, and you place a bouquet at the center before you walk back under the protection of the umbrella.
Jay cracks when he sees the familiar white chrysanthemums against the dirt.
âWhat the hell is your problem?â
Your head twists sharply toward him, not expecting him to say anything of that sort, or anything at all. The wind whips through your hair as you stare at Jay with bloodshot eyes, and itâs only then that you recognize the single tear thatâs slid down his cheek.
âWhat? What did I do wrong?â
Jay laughs, sharp and twisting. You feel it through your bones, the hatred seeping through you until you, too, start to cry. Sunghoon stares at Jay from behind you, begging him with wide eyes not to say anything that could ruin you even more, but Jungwonâs unsaid confessions rush out of Jayâs lips like the roar of every lightning strike behind him.
âWhat havenât you done wrong? Were you that fucking stupid to see that he died because of you? Because of how you never loved him back?â
His words hit you like a truck, slamming into you with the impact of the wind behind you. You stumble back, one, two steps before youâre rushing forward and grabbing the lapels of Jayâs jacket.
âWhat are you talking about? What do you mean, he loved me?â
Jay gives you a stare that is almost murderous, his voice dropping octaves as he responds. âHe loved you. Heâs been in love with you since the day you two met. He died from a disease caused by unrequited love, you fucking asshole!â
Your tears stain the edges of Jayâs jacket, and although he tries to push away from your grasp, away from you and everything you stand for, your grip on him remains tight.
âGod,â he continues, laughing bitterly, âhe loved you. He loved you so much that in the endâŠâ
He canât even finish his sentence because his voice breaks and he canât breathe. And in that moment, he wonders if this is how Jungwon felt, if he was experiencing even a fraction of the hurt, the suffocation he had to endure on a daily basis.
âJay, please,â Sunghoon echoes from behind him.
Your fingers finally release themselves from their grasp as you turn back to look at Sunghoon. His eyes never leave yours, and although he tries to lean forward to shield you from the rain with the umbrella, you push him away.
âDid you know about this?â you ask, even though you already know the answer. The rain seeps through your hair, wetting your eyelashes and streaming down your face, but even it cannot hide your cries as you sob in front of him. âDid you know he loved me?â
Sunghoon swallows so audibly that he doesnât even have to say any more, and you start laughing. Ballistically, without any form or reason, you laugh with that crazed look in your eyes, your hands swaying against the wind as you turn back toward Jay.
âSo you all knew about this and decided not to tell me?â
âYou donât get to act like the victim in this.â Jayâs words feel like a harsh slap in your face, but he continues. âHow were we supposed to tell you months before your wedding? Oh, hey, by the way, Jungwon is in love with you, and heâll die if you donât love him back. Jungwon was an idiot for loving you, for sure, but he wasnât stupid.â
He hates that he has to speak about Jungwon in the past tense now. He hates that he has to talk about Jungwon to someone who never reciprocated his feelings, someone who never saw him for who he truly was. He hates that he canât put into words the extent to which Jungwon loved you, even if it meant putting you before himself and committing to death.
âWhatâ what was I supposed to do?â you whisper. Jay has to restrain himself from telling you that you donât have the right to cry, that youâre a murderer in his eyes, and he canât even bear to look at you.
âYou were supposed to love him back. All he ever wanted was to be loved by you.â
And, as if the universe is responding, the rain picks up. It drowns you, completely, as you stand in a sea of graves for the one person who maybe loved you more than anyone else ever could.
You remember meeting Jungwon for the first time. How he tapped your shoulder politely after watching you play in the sandbox alone, asking if he could build sandcastles with you, even though his other friends waited for him beside the playground. He always did that, putting you first before anyone else, and you canât believe it took you so long to realize truly how much Jungwon really cared for you.
Even in all the little things, youâre reminded of him. From the buttons on your coat jacket that he thrifted to your shoes that he scrubbed clean after a long hike, Jungwon has always been that stagnant reminder that life keeps going. Even during your darkest days, when all you wanted to do was hide from the rest of the world, he sat beside you and nursed you back to health, piece by piece. Itâs taken you so long to realize how Jungwon is your center, the gravity that pulls you back to Earth and keeps you grounded, the star that orbits around you in every universe.
How Jungwon has always been yours.
As Jay leaves, his footprints tracking through the dirt as a permanent reminder he was always there, he presses a slip of paper into your hands. The corner is speckled with blood, and your eyes flicker up to Jayâs gaze, already knowing what it is.
âHave fun on your honeymoon,â he mutters. Heâs gone just as quickly as he came, the wind sweeping him away until he is no more.
As you sit in Sunghoonâs car, shivering underneath the heater from your wet clothes, you find your fingers opening the paper in your hands, smoothing out the crinkles from Jayâs rough grasp. And as you read, the warmth is not enough to stop the frigid cold that suddenly rushes through you, that crazed feeling that you canât shake off, no matter how much time passes.
As you read, you cry. You cry for what lived, and now, for what youâve lost, because this piece of paper represents all of Jungwon in his entirety, all of whatâs left of the boy who paved the Earth so that you could walk on it. Of Jungwon, who sacrificed himself just to sustain a world with you in it, even while knowing that he and you are two parallel lines never meant to intersect.Â
Of Jungwon, who didnât know what love meant if it wasnât made of you.
Dear you,
First of all, you know I have performance anxiety. So, making my speech come last feels like some sort of specially-inflicted torture that you and Sunghoon designed for me (cue the audience laughter. I hope they laugh).
I wrote many drafts of this. Theyâre all sitting in my trash can right now, because coming up with a speech to summarize everything I want to say about my best friend just isnât something that can be done in one sitting. No amount of words can describe the extent to which I feel for you, of how much joy youâve brought into my life and everyone around us.
I should probably be talking about Sunghoon and how heâs perfect for you, which, I mean, he kind of is (letâs hope the audience laughs again). I should probably be wishing you a happy married life, where you get that gray cat you always wanted. And I genuinely do want to convey all that to you, and so much more, because you deserve everything good in the world.
But I wanted this speech to be about you. For you to realize how much I, and everyone in the audience around us, care for you. Iâve been your best friend since childhood, watching you grow from that awkward little kid to the beautiful person you are today. You have uplifted and supported me in so many ways that no one else has, and I think I speak for everyone when I say that we are so grateful to have you in our lives.
Sunghoon, you are so blessed to have the most wonderful wife in your life. Cherish her, adore her, lift her up with all your strength, and twirl her around until you hear that beautiful laughter and see that beautiful smile. Itâs so worth it. So, so worth it. As her best friend, I resign all my duties to you, for you to be her new best friend and her life partner. Love her wholeheartedly, with every fiber of your being until it hurts, and then a little more.
And you. No matter what comes your way, never lose your energy, your resilience, your joy, and everything that makes you who you are. I love you, and I canât wait to see where lifeâs journey takes you, one step at a time.
Hello.... after having this fic marinate in my thoughts for a week i am Here . i sent you my initial reactions in the dms when i first read it but now i am here to read it in full. In detail . so lets get started (a gun to my head.)
The light that streams in through the blinds is unbearably bright today.
scene setting... usually he can ignore it but today its something persistent and pressing that makes him open his eyes and face reality . HAH!!!!!! this double meaning.... fuck my baka life
âFuck, my head hurts. What time is it?â Jay mumbles.
sorry i got such whiplash when i first read this line MDSFJLSDFKMFD Me when i call my best friend to tell him about my wedding but he's in bed with his boyfriend .
Or is it he thatâs wrong, loving you irrevocably despite your heart belonging to another? Loving you and lying to everyone about his true feelings with only a selfish desire to keep you close. Was it so wrong that he just wanted to be with you, even if it was as your best friend and nothing more?
Should i kill myself
He finds out later, after heâs calmed down and the tears on his cheeks have become one with his skin, that Sunghoon proposed to you on that mountain. The one that you and Jungwon discovered first together, back in high school when you ventured off the trail for your senior pictures and stumbled upon the view of a beautiful sunrise studded with pine trees.
BTW THIS IS SOOOOSDFMSDFLSDLF?!?!?! ID BE PISSED AS HELL... like what is HE (derogatory) doing at Our place in the first place.... yn is kind of fake for that .
Sunghoon had stared at him so cutely from behind his thick-rimmed glasses that Jungwon had no choice but to ignore the sinking feeling as he forwarded his friend Rikiâs phone number, tapping him on the shoulder and wishing him good luck.
riki at the scene of the crime as usual
As if he hasnât imagined how heâd get down on one knee in the midst of a rainy afternoon and ask to be yours forever.
i can't lie doing this when he's never had the courage to even ask you out is peak delusion and honestly i can't even blame him
Itâs just that Jungwon didnât expect it to be this soon. He thought heâd have more time to bury his reverence for you, to pretend as though you really just were two best friends. Heâd wanted to imagine himself cradled in your arms one last time before he lost you for good.
He is so pathetic /gen....... (eyes glazed over)
âWeâre getting married. In two months.â
wedding planning in two months... so you want me (and jungwon.) to die...
âLike, Iâd be your maid of honor?â Jungwon lets out, drinking a glass of water to calm the weirdness in his chest.
âOr like, a dude of honor,â Jake comments. Jungwonâs too preoccupied waiting for your reaction to notice Sunghoonâs eye roll.
JAKE IS SOOOOSDFMSDFL
No matter how fucked up this all is, how you unknowingly take and take from him until he has nothing left to give, he still prefers this over not knowing you at all. So he agrees, just like he always does.
won is like the meme of the fat bird in between two skinny cage bars...
He wishes he could go back to a time when he wasnât in love with you. When all you were to him was just another friend, when he didnât feel guilty for staring at you a little too long or wanting you more than he wanted anyone else. He wishes he could go back to that time, even though he knows that it never existed, because all heâs ever known is how to love you. He knows heâs been put on this Earth to love you, and to wish otherwise would mean heâd cease to exist.
SHIBAL..... OHH MY GOD HES SO PATHETIC.............
Itâs okay, though. Heâs always been there to remember things for you.
FUCK!!!!!!!! FUCK............. to love is to notice... i bet if jungwon were here i wouldn't have lost my stupid credit card .
âThey are pretty,â he whispers. âAre you sure, though? White flowers tend to wilt faster.â
him saying that white crysanthemums remind him of you when really they're supposed to be Him. but then again there isn't much of a difference is there,,, you're intrinsically a part of him... shibal. wilts fast... hah.....
He wants to tell you that he wonât be able to bear seeing you walk down the aisle with white crysanthemums, a pointed reminder of what couldâve been if you had reciprocated even an ounce of his feelings.
also this is sooo crazy bc he truly is the fat bird between tiny cage bars. how could she reciprocate if she didn't know... HOW COULD SHE HAVE KNOWN!!!! jungwon when he's upset at the repricussions of his own inaction
his lips are chapped from the number of times heâs had to throw up in the past month.
he is so me...
he has to suffer with this terminal illness until he either dies or kills himself at your altar.
JUNGWON WHEN HE KILLS HIMSELF IN FRONT OF YOU TO CHANGE THE TRAJECTORY OF YOUR LIFE FOREVER?????
Jayâs fingers grip his thigh every time Jungwon coughs, but he manages to make it to the store in one piece.
just kiss already...
âTheyâre getting married. You canât take care of her forever because thatâs Sunghoonâs job, not yours.â
WHAT IS HIS ISSUEEEE....
Sunghoon grips your shoulder, and you turn slowly, facing him with wide eyes. Your eyes lock, and he blinks once, twice, a silent exchange passing between you both before he pulls back to disappear behind the cake counter.Â
?????? WHAT WAS HE TRYING TO SAY..... and jungwon realizing that his special language is yet another thing he's been replaced from.... KMS.
In every flower bouquet he passes by at the market, in every banana pudding recipe he finds on the internet, in every gray cat he sees running by on the street. Asking him to stop thinking of you would mean losing the very thing thatâs been keeping him going.
MY BANANA PUDDING.
Itâs hard to see why not, too, because Sunghoon loves in that silent, caregiving way that you donât realize until you really get to know him. Sticky notes you find on the counter after you come home from work, dishes cleaned if youâre feeling particularly down, holding your hand in his jacket pocket because he loves deeply, not openly. In many ways, Sunghoon is everything Jungwon has ever wanted to be for you.
FUCK...............sorry i really do love him..... but him telling won he can talk to him about his problems as if he doesn't know the exact reason jungwon is suffering LIKE???!?! this performative ass....
He hates that you never recognize heâs right here for you. All heâs ever wanted was to be the person you could lean upon, the chest you could curl into as you cried your heart out. He wants to be that person that you share your sorrows with, the one to take hold of your burdens and shoulder them himself, but you never let him do it.
JUST LIKE NOONA FIC...!?!?!?!
One thing Jungwon has learned about you, so subtle that he doesnât even think Sunghoon knows it yet, is that youâre fragile. He knows you hold your heart in pieces, begging the universe to glue you back together, even though he knows it canât. So, in lieu of the universe, Jungwon tries.
oh you are so mean.... U ARE SO MEAN. him always being there for you even if you aren't there for him?!?!?!!! YN........
You let Jungwon lead you, your eyes never leaving his as the music flows between you both.
this entire scene made me rock back and forth and start chanting btw. like an insane person. like first of all this is cruel and unusual punishment to put jungwon through this but this entire fic is just you putting him under a magnifying glass and the sun and laughing while he's burning like he's a little ant so. at least its on brand... its just soooo like. a vision of what could have been...
Of course, his feelings are nothing but a joke to you, as if theyâre not the very reason heâs currently on his deathbed surrounded by a pool of flowers.
this makes yn seem so mean MSDFJDSFL JUSTICE FOR MY GIRLLLL BRO SHE DOESNT KNOW!!!!!
He drives until the bright neon lights of the bar flash through the mirror, and he barely has a chance to park before you and your friends clamber out, giddy with excitement.
him being the only guy at your bachelorette party and being the DD while also being miserable and dying Please leave him alone... .đđđđđđ
He hasnât had a sip of alcohol, but this is the sort of effect you have on him, world-spinning and regret seeping through his every vein.
THIS IS SOOOO??!?!?!?! OHHHH MY GOD... this whole fic is like watching a slug try to make its way out of a salt maze thats too small for its fat body
After all, there is no him without you.Â
There is only you without him.
KYSSSSSSSSS
He remembers all the times heâs centered himself around you. Every moment when he thought he was wanted by you, even if it was just as a friend. Now, all he can see is how convenient, how easy he is for you. How pathetic he is to fall in love with you, to keep loving you even though he knew you would never love him back. And yeah, heâs always there when you need him, but even now, as he sits inches away from his death, youâre never there for him.
ohh my jungwon..... also the mole paragraph goes crazy Hello. existed to love you / existed to suffer because of it .
âI love you so much, too, Wonie. Youâre the bestest friend ever. My best friend.â
ah shibal..... shook my head slowly and dropped it into my open palms..... good scene though.... good use of a flashback........ fuck........ also yn not checking up on him being missing at her rehearsal dinner is crazy like Girl im trying so hard to be on your side rn but you make it so hard sometimes...
His fingers clutch tightly onto Jungwonâs man of honor speech, one he refuses to read because he canât justify that torture. Itâs you who needs to read it, to recognize the consequences of your actions, of how greedy you were to have the most wonderful human being beside you and still yearn for another. He needs you to read this speech in all its glory, tear-stained, blood-stained, flower-stained, until you recognize the extent of how much Jungwon truly loved you.Â
first of all jungwon dying at your wedding is CRAZY my jaw dropped when i first read it and SECOND can jay chill please... HSDFMSDFLKJSDF LIKE SORRY YOUR BOYFRIEND DIDNT LOVE YOU BACK.... GREEDY!?!?!?!
Youâd wanted to shake him open, for him to let go of everything heâd held back, but he stayed in place, eyes boring into yours as if he had nothing more to say.
fuck exactly... EXACTLY.... bc its like. like this is your best friend who kept trying to hold everything back from you because he kept wanting to Be there for you and be a martyr for his own feelings instead of considering how you would have felt about it... instead of truly letting you in.... FUCK!
âWhat havenât you done wrong? Were you that fucking stupid to see that he died because of you? Because of how you never loved him back?â
No like what did i do wrong.... feeling wrongly accused. The injustice of it all....... being called a MURDERER?!?!! THIS GUY....
Itâs taken you so long to realize how Jungwon is your center, the gravity that pulls you back to Earth and keeps you grounded, the star that orbits around you in every universe.
How Jungwon has always been yours.
SHIBAL.........SHIBAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HEAD IN HANDS......
Dear you,
kys.....kys........ putting the whole letter at the end is SOOOO?!?!?! FROM YOUR NOW EX-BEST FRIEND.......... KILL YOURSEELLFFFFMSDFLSDF FUCK!!!!!!!!!
UGH. ok. final thoughts. first off thank you for dealing with me being annoying and panhandling you for this fic for this long and actually writing me something this good....... i'm not even lying i was thinking about this fic for like a straight week before i could properly sit down and reviewed it >_< I LOVE JUNGWON I LOVE GRIEF I LOVE ANGST! I LOVE...you.... i suppose..... Sorry you know words of affirmation comes difficult for me but i try my hardest .
light streams through the shutters, evening sun warming your room in a slow, steady drawl of golden hour. jake lays on the side of your twin bed, crammed alongside you as he balances precariously near the edge of the mattress.
it smells like youâthe pillow, the blanket, the room. all warm and familiar and so full of home he just wants to close his eyes and fall asleep like when you were kids. the scent of cinnamon drifts into the room, and jake knows your mom is probably making her pumpkin spice cookies downstairs, the way she always does when the weather starts getting chilly. jake wonders if he can steal a freshly baked one before he goes home tonight, just like he used to.
but he supposes it's not like how it was before. maybe it can never be the same.
"i broke up with minju."
the word strikes a fracture in the air, your body stiffening slightly beside his before you relax, voice taking on a casual lilt he can tell is masking something beneath. âoh, really? why?â
"it just..." jake pauses. "didn't work."
"oh." short, concise, maybe a little hurt. and then, timidly, "sorry to hear that."
he shakes his head, pillow rustling. "don't be. not your fault."
"you just really seemed to like her a lot."
he shrugs, biting back his words. "yeah."
"you know," you start, almost timidly. "i almost thought you hated me, or something."
"what?" jake's head turns to you on instinct, swift motion that leads his nose to almost brush against yours. his breath hitches, a split second of smelling the leftover peppermint on your breath, before he turns back again, ironing out his cracking voice. "what makes you say that?"
"i don't know, you just..." you trail off. "we just stopped hanging out. like you were avoiding me."
you try to make it lighthearted, but the hurt peeks through enough for the pang in jake's chest to shoot into his throat. he swallows hard, eyes pinned on the leftover glow-in-the-dark stars still stuck on the ceiling.
âthatâs notâŠâ jake manages, but the rest of words lump up and lodge in his throat. he canât lie to you. âitâs complicated.â
a pause. "is it?"
he hesitates, blinking. the peppermint still lingers. "yeah."
jake hopes you'll just leave it at that and not press him further, because if he were being honest then he'd say yes, he has been avoiding you. that's the partial truth, at least.
the whole truth is that he can't look at you the same after the night of your 18th birthday, not after you had three tequila shots too many and blacked out for the rest of the night. not after he can still taste the feeling of your lips on his, even months since that night has passed.
jake likes youâhe's admitted that to himself for a while now. in fact, he may even be in love with you, but that seems way too big and scary of a concept for a guy his age to even wrap his head around. at the very least, like or not, in love or not, jake knows he loves you. he has for as long as he can remember, as his twin flame, as his best friend, as just who you are wholly, as a person.
but he knows you best, which means that there's no way in hell he can tell you that he started dating minju to distract himself from a kiss you don't even remember and feelings he's fairly sure you don't even return. jake can't even tell you that minju is the one that dumped him, because the truth would come tumbling out that the reason she did was because she was sick and tired of him never being able to shut up about you.
(when minju broke it off, she said she was setting him free. "untethered to follow his heart," or whatever that means. she probably thought she was doing a good deed, considering the wise look she gave him when she left his house, but it really just set him back to square one. without anyone stopping him, jake would always find himself coming back to you.)
it's not like he's proud of his bout of ghosting, but at the time, it was the only thing he felt like he could do to get his newfound feelings under control. he's better at it now, more practiced. jake is happy to shove his feelings underneath the rug and continue like everything is normal if it means things will continue like they always have been.
it's fine. it'll all be fine. as long as he doesn't lose you, it'll all be okay.
jake peers to his side, catching a glimpse of your face. brows scrunched, lips set in a slight frown, body slightly turned away from him. his fault, admittedly. jake pushes aside the slight guilt and pokes your side, watching you squirm and yelp.
the best solution to avoidance is distractionâjake's tried and true method.
"do you think your mom will let us have a cookie before dinner?"
you drag yourself up, hair mussed from the pillow as you look down at him. "when has she ever?"
sunlight tinges your hair warm, the dust particles floating between the streams of light through the window. there's a pillow mark on your face that draws the corners of his lips up before he can stop himself.
tried and true, jake repeats to himself. tried and true.
"how long do you think it'll take her to notice two are missing?"
you hum, tilting your head. "only one way to find out."
he grins, sitting up beside you. "then let's find out."
summary: between handling all the incoming holiday orders from your bakery, warding off your best friend's attempts at matchmaking, and actively avoiding the ex you're stuck living with for another six months, christmas is the least of your worries. that is, until heeseung's parents come into town. million dollar question: what's worse than having your ex's parents stay with you? answer: having your ex's parents stay with you, not knowing that you two have already broken up.
notes: hallmark movie coded, exes-to-lovers, fake dating au, sorta angst, mostly not! ok, so you got me. it is in fact NOT christmas anymore (it's not even december anymore) but hopefully this fic revitalizes your leftover holiday spirit. everyone knows that christmas starts after thanksgiving and ends in february!!! send me an ask if you want to be added to the taglist!
So maybe Sunoo was right. Maybe you canât avoid Heeseung forever.
If there was one thing you hated, it was hearing the taunting âI told you soâ echoing in the back of your mind. Unfortunately for you, that is the only thing running through your head as you stand at the doorway of your room, face-to-face with Lee Heeseung. Ex of your nightmares, ground zero of your many woes.
âHi.â He has the decency to look embarrassed, at least.
You blink. âHeyâŠ?â
You stare at each other for a few seconds longer. You shift your weight from one leg to the other, hand still on the doorknob. Tuna, your cat, looks at the scene from behind, curious.
Maybe you should end this now, as to not further confuse the children through the divorce. Or whatever they say. (âNo,â you picture yourself saying to Tuna through a sack of catnip, âMommy and Daddy are not getting back together.â)
âDo you⊠need something?â you try civilly. Whatever it was, surely it could have been communicated through a note stuck on the fridge or something. To not confuse the kids, you repeat to yourself. And to not confuse me.
You canât even remember the last time you talked. Probably around the time he was moving all his stuff from your shared bedroom to his office. Hell, you canât even remember the last time you saw each other in the same vicinity, considering you were always at work, and Heeseung was always either in his office or at the university or something. Never here. Never where you could see him.
âI, um,â Heeseung starts awkwardly, shifting back and forth. His eyes drift everywhere around him, maybe to find what to say, but eventually he seems to make up his mind. ââŠHow are you?â
âSeriously?â
It comes out of your mouth before you can stop yourself, a bit harsher than if you would have said intentionally. He cringes at the rebuke (Heeseung 2-0 for self-awareness, at least), hurrying to apologize.
âHi, I know, sorry. I didnât know what to say.â
âHeeseung,â you say, not unkindly. itâs rather plain, the way you say his name now. âWhy are you talking to me?â
What could you possibly want after five months of not speaking to each other? Youâre surprised heâs even home at this hour, considering he always got back from work late at night. You always made sure to get all your stuff done in the shared space before he returned home, to avoidâwell, to avoid whatever this is.
Heeseung pinches his nose and sighs deeply. âOk well, thereâs no easy way to say this, butâŠâ Like ripping off a bandaid. âRemember my mom?âÂ
What kind of fucking bandaidâ âOf course I remember your mom.â
âGreat. Well,â Heeseung continues, sheepish at the poor buildup. âShe may or may not have heard that my grad program gives us a holiday break, and it just so happens that this year is the first year that my parents arenât going on a fancy Europe trip during the holidays.â
You nod slowly.
âAnd, well, the reason theyâre not is becauseâokay, do you remember my grandma?â
âHeeseung.â
âSorry, okay. Long story short.â He takes in a deep breath and says everything else in one breath. âItâs my grandmaâs 100th birthday this year and you know sheâs a Christmas baby so we always celebrate her birthday and Christmas together, and you know, itâs her 100th, haha, and she lives close by, sorta, soââ
âHeeseung.â
âMy parents want to crash at our place until New Years.â
âOkay...â You could work with that, ex-almost-in-law awkwardness aside. Definitely something he could have brought up through post-it, but you appreciate the transparency. âThatâs fine. I mean, youâre probably going to have to sleep on the couch if they take your room, but thatâs up to you guysââ
âThey donât know we broke up.â
Pin drop silence. You churn the words carefully in your head, Sunooâs background loopings of âI told you soâ slowly getting replaced with âThey donât know we broke upâthey donât know we broke upâthey donât know we broke upâtheyââ
âWhat?!â
Tuna startles at the loud noise, ears flattening, eyes darting from you to Heeseung to you again. MommyâDaddyâMommyâDaddy. so much for not confusing the kids.
âI justââ Heeseungâs embarrassed. He should be, considering the fact that heâs been lying to his parents for the past five months, or at the very least, omitting the truth. The very important, crucial truth. âI meant to.â
âTell them,â you insist. Heeseung falters. âTell them before they book the plane.â
And then Heeseung presses his lips together, and shakes his head. âI canât.â
You would have flung your hands into your hair and started pulling at the strands if you werenât such a calm, collected, and mature individual. So you start pacing.
âOk, fine, so they already booked the plane. Tell them now, so they know what kind of mess theyâre about to walk into.â Heeseung looks a little offended at the description, but at least he knows better to keep his mouth shut. You pace a few more rounds, before you turn to him. âWell, what are you waiting for?â
âY/N, i canât.â
You swing your head at him with wide, wild eyes. âAnd why the hell not?!â
Heeseung winces, and says weakly, âMy mom really likes you.â
You gape at him.
âListen,â Heeseung stresses (as if he has any right to be stressed, that filthy liar). âI was going to tell them, okay? I donât like lying to them any more than you do, but what was i supposed to say? âHey Mom, long time no talk! My girlfriend of five years broke up with me but oh, by the way, weâre still living together for another seven months. Love you too!ââÂ
Well, when he puts it like that.
You did exactly that, but your parents did give you a disappointed speech, and your mom never fails to give you a reproachful glance or two every time sheâs reminded of your living situation, so maybe Heeseung was onto something.
âAnd you know my mom,â Heeseung adds. âSheâŠâ
âWould not take it well,â you finish, morosely. There wouldnât be screaming, but there would be crying. Lots and lots of crying. and you liked his momâyou didnât want to see her cry, or else youâd be likeâyou donât knowâthe most evil ex-almost-in-law in history. The ex that ruined christmas.
You cannot be the ex that ruined christmas.
âFine,â you grit out eventually, the ultimate seal in ending your peaceful solitude. âIâll play nice and pretend to beâŠâ you gesture vaguely, â âŠwith youâŠagain.â
Heeseung sighs, so very relieved. He almost moves forward to give you a hug, or clasp you on the shoulder, or something, but he decides against it, arms falling awkwardly at his sides. You watch it linger, and you donât know whether to be grateful or strangely disappointed. âThank you,â he says, still, even without the proximity. âReally, Iâll make it up to you, I promise.â
âYeah, yeah,â you wave off, smiling thin. âI like your parents anyway, itâll be good to see them again. We can talk details later.â
Heeseung shoots you another smile, leans down to scratch Tuna behind the ears, and walks away. Finally.
You look down at Tuna, gazing up at you with large pupils that fiend for more Churu. It isnât the first time the thought âoh, to be a catâ has crossed your mind recently, and it certainly wouldnât be the last.
Tuna pads up to you, purring and rubbing his face against your leg. Distantly, the thought âoh, to be a cat with divorced parents that have to pretend to not be divorced anymoreâ appears in your head, and it sounds infinitely less appealing. It seems like no one in this household is winning this month.
âOh Tuna,â you sigh, squatting down to meet him at eye level. âWhat the hell did I just get myself into?â
summary: between handling all the incoming holiday orders from your bakery, warding off your best friend's attempts at matchmaking, and actively avoiding the ex you're stuck living with for another six months, christmas is the least of your worries. that is, until heeseung's parents come into town. million dollar question: what's worse than having your ex's parents stay with you? answer: having your ex's parents stay with you, not knowing that you two have already broken up.
notes: hallmark movie coded, exes-to-lovers, fake dating au, sorta angst, mostly not! ok, so you got me. it is in fact NOT christmas anymore (it's not even december anymore) but hopefully this fic revitalizes your leftover holiday spirit. everyone knows that christmas starts after thanksgiving and ends in february!!! send me an ask if you want to be added to the taglist!
So maybe Sunoo was right. Maybe you canât avoid Heeseung forever.
If there was one thing you hated, it was hearing the taunting âI told you soâ echoing in the back of your mind. Unfortunately for you, that is the only thing running through your head as you stand at the doorway of your room, face-to-face with Lee Heeseung. Ex of your nightmares, ground zero of your many woes.
âHi.â He has the decency to look embarrassed, at least.
You blink. âHeyâŠ?â
You stare at each other for a few seconds longer. You shift your weight from one leg to the other, hand still on the doorknob. Tuna, your cat, looks at the scene from behind, curious.
Maybe you should end this now, as to not further confuse the children through the divorce. Or whatever they say. (âNo,â you picture yourself saying to Tuna through a sack of catnip, âMommy and Daddy are not getting back together.â)
âDo you⊠need something?â you try civilly. Whatever it was, surely it could have been communicated through a note stuck on the fridge or something. To not confuse the kids, you repeat to yourself. And to not confuse me.
You canât even remember the last time you talked. Probably around the time he was moving all his stuff from your shared bedroom to his office. Hell, you canât even remember the last time you saw each other in the same vicinity, considering you were always at work, and Heeseung was always either in his office or at the university or something. Never here. Never where you could see him.
âI, um,â Heeseung starts awkwardly, shifting back and forth. His eyes drift everywhere around him, maybe to find what to say, but eventually he seems to make up his mind. ââŠHow are you?â
âSeriously?â
It comes out of your mouth before you can stop yourself, a bit harsher than if you would have said intentionally. He cringes at the rebuke (Heeseung 2-0 for self-awareness, at least), hurrying to apologize.
âHi, I know, sorry. I didnât know what to say.â
âHeeseung,â you say, not unkindly. itâs rather plain, the way you say his name now. âWhy are you talking to me?â
What could you possibly want after five months of not speaking to each other? Youâre surprised heâs even home at this hour, considering he always got back from work late at night. You always made sure to get all your stuff done in the shared space before he returned home, to avoidâwell, to avoid whatever this is.
Heeseung pinches his nose and sighs deeply. âOk well, thereâs no easy way to say this, butâŠâ Like ripping off a bandaid. âRemember my mom?âÂ
What kind of fucking bandaidâ âOf course I remember your mom.â
âGreat. Well,â Heeseung continues, sheepish at the poor buildup. âShe may or may not have heard that my grad program gives us a holiday break, and it just so happens that this year is the first year that my parents arenât going on a fancy Europe trip during the holidays.â
You nod slowly.
âAnd, well, the reason theyâre not is becauseâokay, do you remember my grandma?â
âHeeseung.â
âSorry, okay. Long story short.â He takes in a deep breath and says everything else in one breath. âItâs my grandmaâs 100th birthday this year and you know sheâs a Christmas baby so we always celebrate her birthday and Christmas together, and you know, itâs her 100th, haha, and she lives close by, sorta, soââ
âHeeseung.â
âMy parents want to crash at our place until New Years.â
âOkay...â You could work with that, ex-almost-in-law awkwardness aside. Definitely something he could have brought up through post-it, but you appreciate the transparency. âThatâs fine. I mean, youâre probably going to have to sleep on the couch if they take your room, but thatâs up to you guysââ
âThey donât know we broke up.â
Pin drop silence. You churn the words carefully in your head, Sunooâs background loopings of âI told you soâ slowly getting replaced with âThey donât know we broke upâthey donât know we broke upâthey donât know we broke upâtheyââ
âWhat?!â
Tuna startles at the loud noise, ears flattening, eyes darting from you to Heeseung to you again. MommyâDaddyâMommyâDaddy. so much for not confusing the kids.
âI justââ Heeseungâs embarrassed. He should be, considering the fact that heâs been lying to his parents for the past five months, or at the very least, omitting the truth. The very important, crucial truth. âI meant to.â
âTell them,â you insist. Heeseung falters. âTell them before they book the plane.â
And then Heeseung presses his lips together, and shakes his head. âI canât.â
You would have flung your hands into your hair and started pulling at the strands if you werenât such a calm, collected, and mature individual. So you start pacing.
âOk, fine, so they already booked the plane. Tell them now, so they know what kind of mess theyâre about to walk into.â Heeseung looks a little offended at the description, but at least he knows better to keep his mouth shut. You pace a few more rounds, before you turn to him. âWell, what are you waiting for?â
âY/N, i canât.â
You swing your head at him with wide, wild eyes. âAnd why the hell not?!â
Heeseung winces, and says weakly, âMy mom really likes you.â
You gape at him.
âListen,â Heeseung stresses (as if he has any right to be stressed, that filthy liar). âI was going to tell them, okay? I donât like lying to them any more than you do, but what was i supposed to say? âHey Mom, long time no talk! My girlfriend of five years broke up with me but oh, by the way, weâre still living together for another seven months. Love you too!ââÂ
Well, when he puts it like that.
You did exactly that, but your parents did give you a disappointed speech, and your mom never fails to give you a reproachful glance or two every time sheâs reminded of your living situation, so maybe Heeseung was onto something.
âAnd you know my mom,â Heeseung adds. âSheâŠâ
âWould not take it well,â you finish, morosely. There wouldnât be screaming, but there would be crying. Lots and lots of crying. and you liked his momâyou didnât want to see her cry, or else youâd be likeâyou donât knowâthe most evil ex-almost-in-law in history. The ex that ruined christmas.
You cannot be the ex that ruined christmas.
âFine,â you grit out eventually, the ultimate seal in ending your peaceful solitude. âIâll play nice and pretend to beâŠâ you gesture vaguely, â âŠwith youâŠagain.â
Heeseung sighs, so very relieved. He almost moves forward to give you a hug, or clasp you on the shoulder, or something, but he decides against it, arms falling awkwardly at his sides. You watch it linger, and you donât know whether to be grateful or strangely disappointed. âThank you,â he says, still, even without the proximity. âReally, Iâll make it up to you, I promise.â
âYeah, yeah,â you wave off, smiling thin. âI like your parents anyway, itâll be good to see them again. We can talk details later.â
Heeseung shoots you another smile, leans down to scratch Tuna behind the ears, and walks away. Finally.
You look down at Tuna, gazing up at you with large pupils that fiend for more Churu. It isnât the first time the thought âoh, to be a catâ has crossed your mind recently, and it certainly wouldnât be the last.
Tuna pads up to you, purring and rubbing his face against your leg. Distantly, the thought âoh, to be a cat with divorced parents that have to pretend to not be divorced anymoreâ appears in your head, and it sounds infinitely less appealing. It seems like no one in this household is winning this month.
âOh Tuna,â you sigh, squatting down to meet him at eye level. âWhat the hell did I just get myself into?â
oh man here hoonigiris go again... if u know where this is originally from props 2 u! cw: suggestive
"you're pretty, you know that?"
a small noise sounds from the back of jake's throat, something akin to a protest all caught and tangled into a whine. his adam's apple bobs slightly at the touch of your finger on his neck.
"what," you prod, teasing. "you don't agree?"
slowly, your palm lies flush to his skin, fingers curling around his throat. his breath catches.
you're waiting for it, the switch you've been coaxing out of him this entire time. his eyes flicker in the silence, chest rising and falling, watching for your next move; some days it was easier than others, days where jake builds his walls a little more purposefully, stubbornly, but the anticipation is half the fun, you suppose.
you wonder what will cause it this time, twisted heat pooling in your core at the thought. perhaps the warmth of your breath on the pulse of his neck will make him break, the slightest adjustment of your body slotted against his, or maybe evenâyou tighten your grip just slightly, and ahâthere it is.
almost immediately, jake's eyes go fuzzy, mouth gaping open, the silent way where you know the added pressure on old bruises dappling his skin hurts a little. the way where you know he likes it like that. he puffs out a quiet gasp, hand at your hip going limp and falling to his side, and you truly think this is your favorite part of the game: the prize.
his walls crumbling to pieces onto the mattress, all dirtied in sweat and sin, the jake he prides himself so strongly vanishes, leaving only jaeyun in its wake. the jaeyun that begs for even the tiniest amount of your attention, laps almost pathetically at the slightest taste of you, the jaeyun that all but melts into putty in your hands.
you mouth at the spot between his jawline and ear, thighs tightening around his waist. "i think you're the prettiest, jaeyun. but you know that already."
"please," jakeâjaeyunâ breathes.
"'please' what?" you ask, fingernail trailing down the hollow of his neck to his chest, down, down, down.
jaeyun says your name like a prayer, breathy and small and pleading with desire. "please, i need you." his voice hitches when you start trailing upwards again from his abdomen.
and if you were feeling cruel today, you'd press him even further, make him beg and grovel before you started to indulge in his wants. the image of jaeyun with teary eyes and pure desperation almost tempts you to follow through, but your own growing desire stops you before it goes too far.
still, you want to have fun before the game comes to an end. you hum in deep thought, playfully distant as you grind your hips against his, a strangled moan finding its way past his lips. his hips jerk up once before stilling at the nails digging into his skin.
how obedient, you almost coo.
"maybe," you say in response, and his eyes widen before you place a hand on his abdomen, eyeing him in warning. patience. your hand trails lower again, a smile ghosting on your lips as your hand comes to rest on his waistband. "only because you've been so good for me."
chat, what do you do when you accidentally sleep with your TA that you didn't know was your TA? asking for a friend.
fuck my life.
it's the only thought you've had in the last two hours, maybe even three, if you count the expletives that flew out of your mouth this morning when you woke up to an alarm clock blaring the wrong set of numbers at you.
the clock on the wall ticks with each bounce of your knee. you swallow hard, palms clammy, eyes darting to anything that isn't the man sat at the desk in front of you. it's like some kind of sick jokeâmaybe even cruel and unusual punishmentâto be sat in this chair with too-soft cushioning in deafening silence as you wait for someone to say something.
(not you though. you think you've done enough to last a lifetime.)
if there was one thing you liked about your major, it's that everything was predictable. the same classmates sat next to you, the same bespectacled old professors teaching at the front of the classroom, the same books lining the shelves of every office you enter. until today, that is.
predictable my ass. you distantly wonder if it's too late to switch to another major in the last semester of your senior year. maybe even switch schools.
objectively speaking, heeseung looks downright sinful: perfectly mussed hair, forearms exposed, thin-wired glasses drooping a little on his nose. your eyes catch onto the bit of skin left bare from where he's kept his shirt unbuttoned. you almost can't help yourself, trailing your eyes down, down, downâyou blink hard. maybe you need holy water.
he hums in thought, drawing his thumb up to his lip to lick and flip to another page in the packet, and you let out a small, strangled sound. like a shark to blood in water, his eyes flit to you through his glasses, an eyebrow raised.
are you okay? you're pretty sure he asks, but it all comes muffled in your ears when all you can think of is how that's the same exact look he gave you a few nights ago. back when he was just some guy at the bar who offered to buy you a drink, someone that was nice enough and, most importantly, hot enough, to help you forget about the fact it was holiday season and you were freshly alone.
(at the time, you had told yourself that it didn't matter that you hadn't flirted with anyone since your break up with your long-term exâyou'd never learn if you didn't try. at least that's what you had told yourself when you went up to the mystery man you'd been exchanging glances with all night.
hi, he'd said, tilting his head. i'm heeseung.
dark eyes, messy hair, kissable lips, it was exactly what you needed to get off your training wheels again. pulling out the stool next to him, you sat close enough to ignore the way your head spun a little at the sudden movement.
you definitely downed your drinks too fast after your friends left you alone, but you pushed the feeling aside and fixed your eyes on heeseung as best you could in the lowlight. come here often?
no, actually, i'm new in town.
really? it was hard to believe anyone would willingly come to a town where nothing ever happened except stagnancy. not for fun, i'd imagine.
he laughed. i start my new job in a few days, at nearby university. would you call that fun?
you hummed, intrigued. hot and smart, you really scored big time with this one. but small talk could only ever interest you so far, especially when the top thing rolling in your mind was the scent of his cologne, the bob of his adam's apple, the chain around his neck just close-fitting enough to catch the eye and lead your gaze downwards to the dip in his throat. at least this one, you know to be indecent. i could show you something more fun, if you wanted?
he raised his eyebrow, setting down his glass and leaning close. bergamot, lilac, patchouli. maybe i'll take you up on that, then.
the rest you remember was getting an uber home, tugging him into your apartment the second you managed to push the door open after fumbling with your keys for god knows how long, making out with him in the kitchen for longer than you care to admit, and the trail of scattered clothes you found the morning after, leading from the living room couch to the bedroom.
well, you remember this too: the hot touch on the couch cushions, the laughing against the softness of each other's mouths as you tried to shuffle your way to the bedroom while keeping as much intimacy as possible, and of course, the actual sexâ)
"you're off to a good start, but you need to work on your sentence structure." you jump, back straightening. heeseung looks up at you, neutral-faced as ever. "there are only so many loopholes to not ending a sentence before you just have to use a period."
ok. you frown. that was uncalled for. "that's notâ"
"also," he turns the paper around, pointing at the third paragraph. "make sure to check if your em and en dashes are used appropriately. it's a sloppy look, otherwise."
it's like it never happened. he hasn't even spared you an extra glance, not when you saw him during discussion section, not when everyone else filed out of the classroom, not even when he called you in for individual office hours to check over your paper. you'd made the appointment days ago, of course, before you knew of the...predicament you would land yourself in, but the nonchalance in which he barely looks at you has the wolf inside you howling the longer you sit here pretending nothing happened.
(if you didn't know better, you'd think you were mistakenâit's what you'd initially thought when you saw him in front of the blackboard. maybe Hot Guy At The Bar had a twin brother. if he was also named heeseung, that was more of their parents' concern than yours.)
but you do know better, which means you know there are sinister intentions beneath his act. he's playing mind games on you, watching carefully, waiting to see when you'll crack. a trap laid specifically for you.
if there's one thing you don't do though, it's lose. so you push aside all memories if his hands anywhere on you and the feeling of his bare back underneath your nails and his mouth on your neck and you clear your throat, blinking rapidly.
"are you listening?"
"yes." he looks up at you again through his ridiculously slutty glasses, gaze smoldering. a sudden vision hits you, of the big pile of papers on his desk getting shoved in a big sweeping motion to the floor, of you and him getting up to no good in this very office, on the chair, on the desk, under the deskâ
"âunderstood?"
"i agree."
he blinks. you blink back at him. "sorry," you clear your throat, speech jilted. "i mean yes. completely understood."
you grab your bag and scoot your chair out, standing to leave before any more beastly imagine spots threaten to further shatter your academic and professional life to pieces.
maybe this is a good thing, you think. maybe you were being paranoid and he didn't even remember you at all. maybe if you played it cool, you could pretend like nothing ever happened at all, dignity in tact. your pride was another matter, but you'll soothe that over with a nice trip to the college bar tonight, a strict 'NO TEACHER ASSISTANTS' sign plastered on your forehead for your next hookup.
"thanks, heeseung," you say oh-so-professionally, turning back to nod him goodbye.
heeseung nods back, a slight smile tugging at his lips. "i look forward to working with you, miss y/n. i'm sure we'll have a lot of fun this semester."
it's nothing special, you're sure he says that to everyone, but the way he says it... you freeze, hand on the doorknob.