HEARTBREAK GIRL | Kim Woonhak
genre: angst, hurt, comfort
synopsis: Woonhak has been in love with his best friend since middle school. She's had a boyfriend for three years — a boyfriend who doesn't deserve her. Woonhak is the one she calls when she gets stood up, the one who always shows up, the one who never says a word. Until one day, he can't hold it in anymore.
pairing: nonidol!Woonhak x fem!reader
now you can read part 2 here
"Hold you tight straight through the daylight I'm right here, when you gonna realise that I'm your cure?"
Woonhak is the youngest in the group.
He's also the loudest, the most impulsive, the one who makes everyone laugh when no one else can. The one who shows up to gatherings with energy that seems endless, the one who cheers everyone up when they're down, the one who always has a bad joke ready to come out of his mouth.
Always good. Always smiling. Always saying yes to plans, yes to going out, yes to everything. He's the glue of the group, the one who keeps silences from getting awkward, the one who organizes hangouts and pressures Taesan to leave the house and tells Jaehyun not to drink so much and listens to Riwoo when he needs to vent and makes jokes at Sungho to make him laugh a little.
That's him. The cheerleader. The one who's fine.
But there's something no one knows.
Well, not no one. Taesan knows. Taesan lives with him. Taesan sees him when he comes home after seeing her, when he throws himself on the bed and stares at the ceiling without saying anything, when the smile finally falls off and underneath there's only exhaustion.
Taesan knows. But he doesn't say anything. Because Woonhak asked him not to.
"It's not a big deal," he said once, with fake lightness. "It's just something stupid."
"It doesn't seem stupid," Taesan replied.
"Well, it is. And I don't want the others to know. There's enough drama already with Riwoo and his Canadian exile."
Taesan didn't push. But ever since, when Woonhak comes home after seeing her, Taesan gives him space. Doesn't ask. Doesn't push. Just sits there on the couch, with the bag of chips, in case Woonhak needs to talk.
But when he does, he says things like:
"She laughed at a joke I made today. A bad one. The kind only she thinks is funny."
"She had her hair down. And little blue hair clips. I gave them to her, for her birthday."
"She asked me to go with her to buy a gift for her boyfriend."
And then Taesan frowns. And Woonhak laughs, but not like he means it — with that sound he makes when he wants something to hurt less.
"He's an idiot, that guy," Woonhak says.
"And yet she's with him."
"And I'm her best friend."
"And I can't tell her anything."
"I wish I could hate her," Woonhak says.
And he stares at the ceiling, with the empty chip bag on his lap, and Taesan next to him not knowing what to say because he's already said everything there is to say.
Woonhak has known her since before the group existed.
Since middle school. Since they were fifteen and he was a kid who liked to annoy girls to get them to notice him. She was new. Arrived in the middle of the semester, with long hair and a backpack full of k-pop group stickers he didn't recognize.
And that's where it all started.
It wasn't love at first sight. It was slower. It was sharing lunch in the courtyard, walking together to the bus stop, laughing at the same bad jokes and complaining about the same teachers. It was realizing that with her he could be himself, without having to be the funny one, without having to cheer anyone up.
With her, he could be quiet. And she didn't ask "what's wrong?" She just stayed by his side.
When they turned seventeen, Woonhak realized he liked her.
It wasn't a revelation. It was an accumulation. It was seeing her laugh and feeling his chest fill with something warm. It was noticing that he looked for her gaze everywhere they went. It was realizing that when she wasn't there, he missed her in a way he didn't miss anyone else.
But he didn't say anything.
Because she started dating someone.
A guy from the class next door. Taller than him. Better looking, according to the girls at school. More confident. The typical guy who sits in the back and does nothing but gets good grades.
Woonhak hated him from the first moment.
Not because he was bad. He was a normal guy. Didn't mistreat anyone, wasn't rude, didn't do anything wrong to her. He just... wasn't him.
And Woonhak couldn't compete with that.
He became her best friend. The one who listened when she complained about her boyfriend. The one who made her laugh when she was sad. The one who went with her to buy him birthday gifts.
The one who smiled on the inside while dying on the outside.
And that's how the years passed.
When they started university, Woonhak thought things would change.
He thought the distance, the schedules, the new friendships — all of it would make his feelings cool down. He thought he'd meet other girls, get distracted, get over this stupid thing once and for all.
She kept being her. And he kept being him.
And the boyfriend also kept being the boyfriend. Even though they weren't in the same classes anymore, even though they didn't see each other every day, they were still together. They'd been together for three years now.
Woonhak had counted them.
Three years of watching her smile for someone else. Three years of hearing her say "my boyfriend" like that word didn't pierce his chest. Three years of being the friend, the confidant, the one who never got past that.
The group was at Sungho's place to order chicken and watch a movie. It was Friday. They hadn't all gotten together in weeks, and Woonhak was in a good mood. He'd brought beer and made such a bad joke that even Taesan had laughed.
They were on the couch, arguing about what movie to put on — Jaehyun wanted horror, Riwoo wanted romance, Sungho said he didn't care but then vetoed every option — when Woonhak's phone buzzed.
He didn't think much of it at first. But then it buzzed again. And again.
He took out his phone. It was her.
Woonhak
Are you busy?
I need you to come
Woonhak frowned. His friends were still arguing about the movie. No one was looking at him.
I was supposed to meet him and he didn't show
I've been waiting for an hour
I feel so stupid
Woonhak felt something hot in his chest. It wasn't affection. It was anger.
The usual cafe
I don't want to be alone
He put his phone away. Got up from the couch.
The four of them looked at him.
"What?" Jaehyun asked. "We just ordered the chicken."
"More important than chicken?" Riwoo asked, raising an eyebrow.
Woonhak didn't smile. That shut them all up.
"It's her," Sungho said. It wasn't a question.
"She got stood up," he said, and his voice came out more tense than he wanted. "She's alone at a cafe. She needs me to come."
Jaehyun was about to say something. Something about how it was always the same, how she only called him when the boyfriend failed her, how Woonhak deserved better. But Taesan looked at him and shook his head. Not the time.
"Go," Taesan said. "We'll eat the chicken."
"I'm sorry," Woonhak said again.
"Don't worry," Sungho said. "Go."
He got to the cafe in fifteen minutes. She was sitting at a table in the back, with an empty cup in front of her and red eyes. When she saw him, her face lit up.
He sat across from her. Didn't ask what happened. Didn't need to. She told him everything: that they'd agreed to meet at seven, that he never showed, that she'd texted and called, that after an hour he replied with a "sorry, something came up" and nothing else.
"We've been together for three years," she said, her voice breaking. "How can he do this to me?"
Woonhak wanted to tell her it was because he was an idiot. Wanted to tell her it was because he'd never valued her. Wanted to tell her it was because she deserved better.
But he didn't say anything. He just listened.
He ordered a coffee. They stayed there until the cafe closed. When they left, the street was dark and cold.
"Walk you home?" he asked.
"Yes," she said. "Please."
They walked in silence. Got to her building door. She put her key in, pushed the door open, and before going in, she turned around.
"Thank you. For coming. You always come."
"I always will," he said.
She smiled. A small, tired smile. Then she went inside.
Woonhak stayed on the street, hands in his pockets, watching the light turn on on the third floor.
He didn't leave until the light went off.
When he got back to his apartment, the chicken was cold and his friends had left. Only Taesan was still on the couch, with his headphones on.
"How is she?" Taesan asked.
"Bad," Woonhak replied. "As always."
Woonhak was quiet for a moment.
"Bad," he said. "As always."
Taesan nodded. Didn't say anything else. Handed him a beer.
And they stayed in silence, the two of them, until the clock hit 2 AM.
Over time, Woonhak discovered that the boyfriend wasn't as bad as he wanted to believe.
Not in the sense that he physically hurt her. He wasn't a monster. He was a normal guy, with good days and bad days, who sometimes treated her well and sometimes treated her okay. But what made it unbearable wasn't what he did. It was what he didn't do.
He didn't really listen. When she talked, he nodded but his eyes were somewhere else. He didn't remember the important things. The name of her little sister. Her mother's birthday. The food she liked and the food she hated.
And she, who was so bright, so intense, so "too much" for him, slowly started to dim. Like a lightbulb flickering before it burns out.
Woonhak saw it. Saw it every time they all got together and the boyfriend showed up late, with no apology, no explanation. Saw it every time she told him something excitedly and he replied with an "oh, cool" without looking up from his phone.
He saw it. And it made his blood boil.
One night, after the boyfriend canceled plans at the last minute — again — she called Woonhak.
He went. Brought Chinese food and a horror movie he knew she liked. They sat on the couch, like so many other times. Watched the movie. Ate the spring rolls. She laughed at his bad jokes, as always.
But something was different.
At the end of the night, when he was putting his shoes on to leave, she called him.
"Why are you so good to me?"
Woonhak was quiet. He hadn't expected that question.
"You're my friend," he said, in a voice that sounded more confident than he felt.
"Yeah, but... I don't know. Sometimes I feel like you do more for me than my own boyfriend."
"That's because your boyfriend is an idiot."
She laughed. A short, half-hearted laugh.
"He's not an idiot. He's just... distracted."
"You've been with him for three years. Don't you think he should have learned not to be distracted by now?"
She didn't answer. Stared at the floor.
"Woonhak," she said. "Do you think he loves me?"
Woonhak felt something break inside him.
"I don't know," he replied. "But you love him. And that's what matters."
She nodded. Wiped a tear he hadn't seen fall.
He left. Closed the door. Stayed for a moment in the hallway, leaning against the wall, breathing deep.
He wanted to kick something. Wanted to scream. Wanted to go back inside and finally tell her the truth.
But he didn't do anything.
He walked to his apartment. Went in quietly. Taesan was on the couch, with his headphones on, reading a book.
"Everything okay?" Taesan asked, taking off his headphones.
"Everything's fine," Woonhak lied.
He went to his room. Closed the door. Threw himself on the bed.
And stared at the ceiling until the sun came out.
It was Saturday. Woonhak had invited her over since Taesan wasn't home, to watch a series on the couch. She'd arrived in the afternoon with chips and sodas, and they'd been like that, doing nothing important, for hours.
She was next to him, legs tucked under a blanket, hair down, attention fixed on the screen.
She didn't pay attention. Kept watching the series.
It buzzed again. And again.
She picked it up, unlocked the screen, and stared at it.
Woonhak noticed something change. Her body tensed. Her breathing became shallower.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
She didn't answer. Kept staring at the phone. Her face was going pale.
"Hey," Woonhak said, sitting up. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," she said, in a voice that wasn't hers. "It's nothing."
"Don't lie to me. I know you."
She pressed the phone against her chest. Shook her head.
"It's stupid. Someone sent me some photos."
She hesitated for a moment. Then, with trembling hands, she handed him the phone.
Woonhak looked at the screen.
It was her boyfriend. At a bar. With a girl. They weren't just sitting together. They were close. Very close. His hand on her waist. Their heads together. His smile — that smile Woonhak knew well, the one he made when he wanted to impress.
There were several photos. In different positions. In one, they were kissing.
Woonhak felt something cold run down his back.
"That's not what it looks like," she said, her voice breaking.
"What do you mean that's not what it looks like?" Woonhak looked at her. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "They're kissing."
"It's the angle. The photos were taken from far away. Maybe it's not..."
"Not what? A kiss? It looks like a kiss. It is a kiss."
She was quiet. Her eyes filled with tears.
"I'm sure there's an explanation," she whispered.
"An explanation?" Woonhak felt something inside him break. It wasn't sadness. It was patience. It was the rope that had been tight for years and had finally snapped. "How many more times are you going to make excuses for him?"
"I'm not making excuses..."
"Yes, you are. You always do. He shows up late — there's an explanation. He forgets your birthday — there's an explanation. He stands you up — there's an explanation. And now this. Is there an explanation for this too?"
She looked down. The tears started to fall.
"You don't understand..."
"I understand perfectly," Woonhak said, and his voice wasn't shaking anymore. It was tired. Broken. "He doesn't love you. Not really. If he loved you, he wouldn't make you cry. If he loved you, he wouldn't leave you waiting alone at a cafe. If he loved you, he wouldn't be kissing someone else at a bar."
"You don't know if he kissed her..."
"Don't be naive!" Woonhak stood up from the couch. The blanket fell to the floor. She looked at him, scared. He'd never spoken to her like this. "You've been with him for three years. Three years of watching him treat you like an option, like you're too much, like you're not enough. And you're still there. Making excuses for him. Defending him. While he lies to you and cheats on you and breaks you into pieces."
"Yes, it is. And you know it. That's why you're crying. That's why you call me every time he fails you. Because deep down you know he doesn't love you. But you're scared of being alone."
"Shut up!" she shouted, standing up too. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. "You don't have the right to say that to me. You don't know what I feel. You don't know what we have."
"No, I don't," Woonhak said, and his voice broke. "Because you've never let me know. I've always been the friend. The one who listens. The one who's there when he isn't. But never the one who... never the one you choose."
"What?" she asked, barely audible.
Woonhak looked at her. His eyes were red. His hands were shaking. He'd gone too far. He couldn't go back.
"I love you," he said. "I've loved you since middle school. Since you asked me for a pencil. And I've been here, watching them break your heart over and over, waiting for you to see me someday. But you never see me. I'm never enough."
She opened her mouth. Closed it. The tears kept falling.
"Woonhak..." she said, and her voice was a broken whisper. "I didn't know..."
They were quiet. The TV was still playing the series. Someone told a joke and canned laughter filled the silence.
"I have to..." she said, not finishing the sentence.
"Leave?" he asked, with a bitter smile. "You always leave."
She didn't answer. Grabbed her bag. Her keys. Her jacket.
"Go," he said, not looking at her.
The door closed with a soft click.
Woonhak stood in the middle of the room, alone, with the blanket on the floor and the TV on and a void in his chest bigger than anything he'd ever felt.
He sat on the couch. Turned off the TV. Turned off the light.
And stayed in the dark, staring at the door she'd left through, until the sun started peeking through the window.
He couldn't stop thinking about the way she left. It was eating him up. He was such an idiot. He'd messed everything up. He couldn't stay there, so he grabbed his jacket and went for a walk. Anywhere but here.
He got back to his apartment at dawn.
Taesan was in the kitchen, making coffee. He looked at him and knew.
"I told her," Woonhak replied.
Taesan didn't say anything. Made him a coffee and handed it to him. Woonhak took it. Didn't drink it. Just held it between his hands, feeling the warmth in his palms.
He sat on the couch. Taesan sat next to him.
"You look like shit," Taesan said.
"Do you want me to call the others?"
"Yeah. I don't want them to see me like this."
Taesan nodded. Didn't push. Stayed there, in silence, while Woonhak watched his coffee get cold.
Hours later, Jaehyun showed up unannounced.
"I brought pizza," he said, holding up a box. "I don't know why, but I had a feeling we needed it today."
"I'm not hungry," Woonhak said.
"Well, I am. So you eat with me or I'll eat your share and you'll regret it."
Woonhak didn't smile. But he took a slice of pizza.
Jaehyun sat next to him. Taesan was already on the couch, with his slice. The three in a row, like so many other times.
Riwoo arrived a few minutes later. Didn't say anything. Just walked in, grabbed a slice of pizza, and sat on the floor because there was no more room on the couch.
"We're missing Sungho and Leehan," Jaehyun said, mouth full. "But Sungho said he had something important to do. Something about a laundromat. Don't ask."
"And Leehan's at the fish store," Taesan said. "Said he'd come later."
Woonhak didn't respond. Kept staring at the pizza without seeing it.
"Woonhak," Jaehyun said. "I know you don't want to talk. But I'm going to say something anyway."
"What do you mean, I did good? She rejected me."
"Doesn't matter. You did good. Because you told the truth. And even though it hurts now, it's better than living your whole life with the words stuck in your throat."
"Who made you so philosophical?" Taesan asked.
"My girl," Jaehyun said, smiling. "Take notes."
Riwoo let out a short laugh.
"Speaking of which," Taesan said. "Your girl. From the party. Are you two a thing yet or are you still in the 'trying it out' phase?"
"We're in the 'trying it out' phase," Jaehyun said. "But it's looking good. She gave me a second chance and I'm not going to screw it up."
"You said that the first time," Riwoo said.
"And I screwed it up the first time. But this time I mean it."
"I wish I had a second chance," Riwoo said quietly.
The three of them went quiet.
"Sorry," Jaehyun said. "I didn't mean to..."
"Drop it," Riwoo said. "I'm better now. Not completely, but better."
Woonhak looked at all of them. His friends. His idiots. His brothers.
"You know what," he said, putting his pizza slice back in the box. "You're all hypocrites."
"Excuse me?" Jaehyun asked.
"None of you have the right to give advice. Not one of you."
"Why not?" Taesan asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Because you all have girlfriends. Or almost girlfriends. Or whatever. You got chosen. You got reciprocated. I didn't."
Jaehyun opened his mouth to respond, but Woonhak wasn't done.
"You," he said, pointing at Jaehyun. "Your girl gave you a second chance. You," he said, pointing at Taesan. "The girl kissed you on the terrace. And you," he said, pointing at Riwoo. "Your ex went to Canada, but at least you had something. At least she loved you."
"I don't have a girlfriend," Riwoo said quietly. "She broke up with me, remember?"
"It's not the same," Woonhak said. "But at least she loved you. At least she chose you, even if she left later. I don't even have that. I've always been the friend. The one who's there when the boyfriend fails her. Never the one who... never the one who really matters."
"That's not true," Taesan said. "You matter to her."
"As a friend?" Woonhak laughed. A bitter laugh, no humor in it. "Sure. I always matter as a friend. But it's not enough. It's never enough."
Jaehyun wanted to say something. Something about love not being a competition, something about everyone having their own timing, something about Woonhak being young and having his whole life ahead of him. But he knew those words were useless. He'd heard them himself when he was in the pit, and they hadn't helped.
So he didn't say anything.
Instead, he got up, went to the kitchen, and came back with four cans of beer.
"Here," he said, handing one to each of them. "To the rejected."
"I'm not rejected," Riwoo said.
"You're worse. You're exiled."
Riwoo smiled. A small smile, but real.
"You're an idiot, Jaehyun."
They opened the cans. Drank in silence. Woonhak looked at all of them. His eyes were bright, but he wasn't crying. He wasn't going to cry.
"You're all so annoyingly sappy," he said.
"And you're a crybaby," Jaehyun replied.
Taesan sighed. Took his can. Took a long drink.
"A complete mess," Riwoo said.
"But we're your mess," Jaehyun said.
Woonhak laughed. This time a real laugh. Small, broken, but real.
"You're welcome," the three of them said at once.
And they stayed there, on the couch and on the floor, eating cold pizza and drinking warm beer, not talking about anything important, because sometimes you don't need to.
Sometimes just being there is enough.
Woonhak didn't go to class. Didn't reply to messages. Didn't leave his room. Taesan left food by the door and took away the empty plates. Didn't ask. Didn't push.
On the third day, his phone buzzed.
Woonhak didn't want to look at it. He thought it was the group chat, again, asking if he was okay. Or his mom, asking why he hadn't called. Or anyone else who wasn't her.
Woonhak stared at the screen. His fingers were shaking.
To talk
In person
About what happened the other day...
I need to see you
Woonhak pressed the phone against his chest. Closed his eyes.
He didn't know if he wanted to see her. Didn't know if he could. Didn't know if leaving that room and meeting her in person would fix anything or break it completely.
The usual cafe
Tomorrow at 6
Please
Woonhak stared at the message for a long time.
He put the phone away. Lay back staring at the ceiling.
Tomorrow at 6. The usual cafe.
He was going to go. Because it was her. Because he always went. Because even if it hurt, even if it broke his heart again, he couldn't stop going.
Where everything had started.
And maybe, also, where everything could end.
