No Apologies Can Explain How I Feel
â¶â.Ë The 9 times Megan apologized and the 3 times you wish she lost the habit.
Pairing: Megan Skiendiel x 7th member!Reader Word Count + Genre: 8.2k, Angst, kinda friends to lovers to strangers/coworkers, A/N: Ngl writing this kinda hurts um⊠wow :( I still remember that an old moot was super excited to see this come out but yea :/ hope my moots don't mind being mentioned :) Content Warnings: This is not a real portrayal of any of the individuals mentioned in this fic. All events are completely fictional and are only intended for entertainment purposes. Swearing
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âApologies are dumb, donât you think?â the words hum out of your mouth and into the hot and humid summer air.Â
You watch as Megan's brows furrow, âwhy do you say so? I mean⊠what else are people supposed to say?â
âThatâs exactly what I mean!â you chuckle, âpeople say sorry because they have nothing else to say. People say sorry when theyâre out of excuses and canât⊠reason their way out anymore. Sorryâs are dumb. Theyâre like⊠a bandaid over a bullet wound. They donât fix a thing, you know?â
The girl smiles, âwell I apologize a lot.â She looks towards you, one of her iconic smiles that would usually send fans screaming plastered her lips as her head quirks, almost like sheâs challenging you to a duel of the wits.
You scoff, a playful roll breezing over your eyes while a smile pulls onto your cheeks, âugh, shut up Megan!â A shove is thrown her way as she grabs onto her arms like you fatally wounded her.
âNow you have to say sorry!â
âOh please,â your head turns to the girl, âIâm sorry. Happy?â
âOkay sure, whatever,â Megan says, pretending to ponder your words with a faux unamused scowl.Â
A weight dips onto Meganâs shoulders, her head tilts to watch yours slowly fall into place, âIâd always forgive you Megan Meiyok Skiendiel.â
âDonât full name me!â the girl gasps as she swats at your head. Your hands flew up to cover your scalp as you retreated back into your space.
âHey! I mean it. Youâre my best friend. Iâll always forgive you,â you grin.
âYou better!â
Those words didnât age so nicely now, but you were right.
You would always forgive the girl. No matter what.
No matter what reason or logic or virtue or morals in your head it went against.Â
You will always forgive Megan.
1. Iâm so sorry I messed up the choreo.
Megan loved to utter those beautiful words, and you loved to watch them fall from her lips even before you realized the way they would make your heart stutter and your brain blank. You paid no mind to the wedge it pried open in your chest. The way the words sank somewhere you didnât enjoy. Somewhere too deep to decipher at first.
The first time Megan formally apologized to you was in the dance studio. The two of you were trying to film a video for a tiktok. The girl, a perfectionist, spent her time tweaking the way her heel struck the vinyl floor or analyzing the angle her elbow bent during a beat drop. That landed the two of you here, you trying to teach Megan this so-called âsickâ hand trick they did in the choreography, while the skilled dancer, who you firmly believe probably started dancing in the womb, managed to lose every ounce of her composure as her eyes followed your wrists.
âOkay Meggie,â you smiled. It was a nickname you gave the girl. One reserved only for your use. A rule only written in the fine print of your lives. An unspoken understanding. âYou put your wrists together and point up, okay? Elbows perpendicular to the ground. You twist them around so both your palms face you, then do that in reverse, like a 180?â you say demonstrating the gesture with your hands moving in fluid motion.Â
The girl beside you nods along, hands following the action with immaculate precision. As always. That was something you admired about Megan. Her intentionality. She always knew what to do. Where to place her hands. How to perform. What expression to make. It was like she knew the job as an idol inside and out. What to lay bare, and what to keep hidden behind the gates of her heart.Â
You wish you could too.
Still, her wrist was too stiff in some aspects. That was unusual for the fluid movements and groove she was known for. Yet, you shrugged it off. You always did. Something in your mind snaked through your thoughts with perfectly pieced together lies and excuses. The stiffness mustâve been from the stress, or the pressure, or the coming performance. Nothing similar to the word that had been dangling around the two of you now. Nothing like the concept people yearned for daily, but the two of you danced around like second nature. Love.Â
Youâre not sure if your brain purposely ignored the way her cheeks visibly flushed bright red as you pulled her into frame after setting up the camera and pressing record. Youâre not sure if your ears meant to drown out the way her breath audibly hitched at the skin on skin contact when your fingers met hers. In that moment though, from the screen you could see the way Meganâs movements began 2 beats after when she was supposed to. A mistake the girl would never usually make.
You didnât ponder on it.
You didnât even scold her for messing up the take.
You laughed. The throw your head back type of laughter one would do when a friend made a silly mistake that you promised to remember forever.
Yes. One of those laughs.
Megan just spirted out apologizes like her life depended on it, âshitâ Iâm so sorry I messed up the choreo. I promise it wonât happen againââ
âMeggie, itâs fine,â you grinned, waving her off as you picked up your phone to reset the recording.
You didnât bother to think too hard about why. Just blaming the incident on the girl zoning out like she usually did. You didnât think that hard in general. If you did, you would have seen the way her eyes were glued onto your figure when she fumbled her counts, or the way her jaw was slightly unclasped when you began to move your hips to the beat. You were too focused on completing the dance challenge instead. In hindsight, all probably for the better. If only it stayed that way.
2. Iâm so sorry, I didnât mean to.
From then on, Meganâs apologies only grew in number. They piled into towers which rested on top of your chest. A heavy weight you learned to carry because love wasnât supposed to be easy. At least that was what you were told. You could forgive this flaw. It was just who Megan was. Loud, at every function until the doors close and her voice drops to a soft whisper as if anything louder than a mouse would send you packing and out the door. Excited, about basically anything she could get her hands on. Yet, every time she saw you walk over, her fingers would begin to fiddle while her words turned to gibberish. She became a nervous wreck. It was as if she couldnât imagine how someone like you could love someone like her. Unpolished. Rough around the edges in the most beautiful way possible. A hindrance.Â
But you did.
Oh so much.Â
So much you could excuse her little habit. A habit that always gets on your frayed nerves.
Her stupid apologies.
Still, how could you blame her? Theyâre just words. Harmless sounds which come out of her mouth.
It would always happen. You learned to live with it. Today was one of those days.Â
All the girls were in the dance studio. A new comeback meant new choreography. It was routine. Nothing out of the ordinary. The stares you could feel at the side of your face were nothing out of the ordinary either. Also practically routine. You could always tell who it was.
Megan.
Who else could it even be?
You listened as Sohey explained this one dance move for the fifth time that day. His tone dripped with annoyance as he continued, âstomp and then hip. Not the other way around. Not at the same time. Just come on.â His rant continued while he demonstrated the action, stomping his foot on the ground before popping his hip to strike the desired pose.
The group of you reentered formation, running the dance from the start. The words echoed in your head. Point your toes, now straight arms, isolate the chest, kick and strut. Then, you felt your right knee bend when it shouldnât have. Horror ripping through your body as your legs gave out beneath you, sending you straight to the floor. The vinyl flooring zoomed into view while your hands went out to try and break the fall. Within seconds you were on the floor, palms pressed against the dusty plastic. Your knee screamed at you in a dull pain.Â
âFuck!â you hear Megan blurt out beside you. Her foot was located where yours were moments ago. A trip. A simple trip that left you pushing yourself off the floor and back onto your feet because the show never stopped. The fans never waited. Meganâs apologies came tumbling, âIâm so sorry, I didnât mean to. I shouldnât have rushed the beat and tripped you and hurt you. It was all a mistake I promise, I swear. Please. Please Y/nââ
ââitâs fine, Megan. It really is,â you say like it was nothing, dusting off your knees and returning to formation as Sohey chanted for the group to run the dance again.
Megan didnât need anyone to call her out to know the reason for your fall. One glace. One movement out of focus, and she sent you straight to the floor.Â
Apologies didnât feel like enough for her back then.
Now, they certainly arenât enough for you anymore.
3. Sorry.
For how unpolished Meganâs apologies were, the sounds she uttered in front of a camera was never so. Clean cut, purposeful. A talent she learned from growing up in the unforgiving claws of the entertainment industry for so long. A talent she forgot only around you.
All it took was one interview. One camera picking up on where her field of vision landed.
âMegan Skiendiel. What are you looking at?â the interviewer remarks. Her voice cut through the peaceful atmosphere of the radio station's recording booth, sending everyoneâs heads snapping to the sound.Â
Meganâs head whips around until sheâs faced towards the interviewer, spluttering, âIâ what? Iâ I donât know what youâre talking aboutââ
The way her head turned towards you every two syllables while she stuttered didnât help her case. The way she panicked and became redder than a tomato didnât help either. Sophia, ever vigilant, ever composed, jumped in the way she always did, âI think what Megan meant was how you asked about pillars of support, right? Megan and Y/n have always been close. Two peas in a pod since Dream Academy days. Theyâre each other's biggest pillars of support. Right, Megan?â
A flustered girl swiftly grasped onto the olive branch their leader extended, âyes yes. Exactly that. I donât know where Iâd be without Y/n supporting me all this way.â
You just laugh at the scene. Something in your stomach churned at the lie. The way the intimacy of your friendship was reduced to mere companionship, like it was all luck that forged the way. It glossed over the nights the two of you spent talking on the couch after a misunderstanding. It blurred away the glances across meeting rooms when executives were ripping everyone to shreds. It wiped clean the secret brushes of the knee, hand, foot under dinner tables, when walking through the halls, in every moment possible that meant a little bit more than either of you let on. Moments that made the friendship almost feel like a little bit more. Like it could be a little bit more than just sisterly love.Â
The flushed cheeks, fumbled sentences, clammy hands. Friends donât do that. Families donât do that. You and Megan did. That had to mean something more than what was being let on now. It must.
The interviewer gets a memo through their earpiece. No one knew what it was, just that it made them drop the topic. You watch as Meganâs breathing returns to normal. The anxiety and stress of the slip slowly escaping her. The rest of the group follows suit, but the twist in your chest doesnât ease. It grows instead. It grows as you watch Megan force her head back in front of her every time it drifts even at the slightest angle towards you. It grows as she avoids eye contact even when the group mentioned your names together with hers in a reference to something stupid the two of you did. It never stopped growing.Â
It was after the recording live sign dimmed and everyone filed out of the room that Megan finally found her way back to you. Somewhere where the camera lenses couldnât analyze every movement of her lips. Somewhere where silence filled in the blanks of the internet's scrutiny was when she spoke, just a whisper, âsorry.âÂ
You didnât need to respond. With just a link of your pinky with hers you seemed to bring life back into the girl amidst the pain which spread in your chest. It told her what she should have already known. Youâre forgiven. Today. Tomorrow. Yesterday. Always. Youâre forgiven.
Yet, her apologies continued. Silent. Each a needle to your aching heart. Sorry, the words slipped from her flingers as she almost flinched at your touch. Sorry, the sound drips from her eyes as she refuses to meet your gaze. Sorry, her body repeats as her nails carved crescents into her palms like a silent punishment.Â
This was the first time you thought, maybe, just maybe, Megan wasnât ever quite truly intentional in all she did. Maybe she didnât mean to continue apologizing even after you had repeatedly told her to stop. Maybe, she simply feared making mistakes. Fearing them so badly, she would frantically try to cover them up with an essay-worth of words flowing from her mouth. Apologies on apologies, as if burying the other person alive under them could kill the guilt.
It never did, but Megan, sure as hell, still tried.Â
Rapidly. Intentionally. Desperately.Â
It never did, but you, sure as hell, still drowned.Â
Wordlessly. Unknowingly. Willingly.Â
i. Iâll always forgive you.
Youâre not sure when Megan began to sneak up on you. Youâre not sure when her god forsaken apologies began to sound like music to your ears. You just know they did. They became a steady rhythm in the chaos of idol life, like the thump of your heartbeat ringing between your ribs, or the underlying beat of a new song the group was working hard to record. It was yours. It was special.Â
Maybe it was the interview incident that made you realize your feelings for the girl. The way your soul burned when she refused to acknowledge you until the cameras stopped rolling. It hurt. Too much for it to be platonic in your mind. The two of you couldn't have been just friends for a long time now. Not with the way she looked at you. Not with the way you threw her off balance. Not with the way the same happened to you too. Something wasnât right. Something had to break.
You loved Megan.Â
With her apologies and all.
You were sure the girl mustâve felt the same, but thoughts still nagged your mind, picking apart each of your nerves at the seems. How would management react? Could you go public? Would Megan even want to? It was a lost cause from the start. Yet your mind still dreamed of feeling the way her hand would fit snugly in yours like a missing puzzle piece to the convoluted maze of your life. You ached for it. You hope she did too.
You didnât expect an apology today. You didnât expect to enter the katseye dorms after spending an extra few hours in the vocal studio running warm up exercises to land you standing face to face with Megan Skiendiel. Face to face when you originally thought all the girls agreed to go out to some LA party tonight, leaving the dorms empty for you to ponder in.Â
âYouâ Megan? Why are you here?â you murmur, setting your heavy bag down on the ground against the wall as you took your shoes off.Â
The shuffles approaching were obviously the girls. You could tell from a mile away, but something was off about the sound. Too careful. Too timid for the usually hyper girl. You know this game by heart. An apology, but for what?
âIâm sorry,â the words echo from the girl's mouth.Â
Your brows visibly furrow at the sound. âFor what?â you hum out. Finally standing up to face her. Only now do you see her puffy eyes, her twisting fingers, the balls of her feet shifting weight from side to side.Â
âIâ I know weâre not supposed to do this,â she hiccups while her head tilts down and the action sends a pang to your heart.
âNo no Meggie, talk to me. I⊠Come on. Whatâs the matter?â you say a little faster, worry beginning to claw on your chest.Â
You watch as she presses her eyes closed like it could wake her from this nightmare before she continues, âshit y/n, I like you, okay? I like you more than bandmates should. Sorry, youâre justâŠÂ Iââ
Time stops. You swear it does as the words settle in your chest. âMean it?â you ask back, unable to believe whatâs coming out of her mouth, âmean it mean it?â
âWhat?â the girl whispers out almost flabbergasted, âof course and Iâm sorry because this is so unprofessional of me and you know, you donât even like me back like that and well, I bring you so much trouble with my pinning and itâs just not cool or fun or endearing. Itâs just annoying,â she heaves out in one breath, immediately starting on the next, âannoying as hell like these apologies I know you hate! Justâ I canât keep pretending anymore! Shit, I shouldnât be saying any of this anyways. Itâs gonna ruin the whole group dynamic and Soph is gonna be livid and managementââ
A swift motion cuts off her panicked spiral. Before you could even comprehend the action, you stepped towards her. Everything in you was moving by itself at this point. Every ounce of reason spilling out of your mind like her words had opened a gate to your soul. Her eyes quickly catch up to your train of thought as her breath hitches. A breath of air croaks out of her throat while her eyes widen at you in shock. Her lips go to form a sentence. You beat her to it, pressing your mouth to hers. A quiet gasp precedes her before she kisses back. Sweet like the candy she loved and the way she grinned.Â
This love-struck giddy grin graces her lips when she pulls away. âWait⊠Sorry⊠Youâre not mad at me? Like at all?â she questions almost in complete shock.
A laugh escaped you, as if she just asked an absurd question. You had quickly learned that no matter how much you hated apologies, you loved Megan Skiendiel way more. âStop saying sorry, Iâll always forgive you. No matter what you do,â you say, tucking a fallen strand of hair behind the girl's ears.
âMean it?â
âGosh, I mean it so much.â
You just wish that was still true now.
4. Iâm sorry.
Maybe the apologies had snuck up on you as much as the person who spoke them had done the same. You couldnât lie and pretend the sweet apologies hadnât begun to sound like music to your ears. Every apology was a balm over your soul, a way Megan showed she cared. It was her love language, you convinced yourself. The phrase rang in your ear like a growing melody of her love. A confession strung in teary eyes and trembling lips. A sight you wish could be framed in your mind, hung in every corner of your soul, stored in your memories for eternity.Â
You wanted to stay here. A limbo you once believed was hell itself.Â
The apologies had taken root in your mind. It was almost a representation of the girl herself. Her care. Her reverence. Her love. You had long forgotten all sense as you swore this was how love was supposed to feel like. Apologies that clattered upon each other in an endless pile. A lake of tears which you kissed away from her cheeks.Â
You thought this was home.Â
You shouldâve known you had thought wrong.Â
You shouldâve known this was a disaster in disguise. Yet isnât that the beauty of love? You reminisce. The gauze over bullet holes and kisses over broken bones? It mends and heals without a care in the world, like it can bend fate itself.Â
You had called those apologies, love. The first time you did so was in the kitchen, like forever was a concept the two of you had won at an arcade game. Tangible. Straightforward. Permanent.
âMegan, can you check if the cookies are good? I feel like itâs been in the oven much longer than 15 minutes now!â you call out to the girl staring at her phone, endlessly scrolling through reels or posts or something you didnât truly care much about while you washed the tower of mixing bowls and measuring cups stacked tidy on the counter.Â
âSounds good,â she hums, walking over to the oven with her phone still in her hand, thumbs scrolling endlessly.
You sigh, still scrubbing away oily residue from a spatula. The silence is eerie as you wait for the sound of a burning hot baking pan to hit the grills of the stove. Nothing. You pause your motion now, letting the water waste away into the drain, waiting for the sound to spring into your ears.
âMegan?â you ask, waiting for the emptiness to finally break.
âIâm sorry,â she whispers, like anymore would break the fragile string that strung us together.
You finally stop the faucet and set the spatula down, âsomething happened?â Your heart barely lurches at the apology now.
A meek sound answers your question, âI think I mightâve set the timer wrong⊠the cookies are burnt⊠Iâm so sorry I donât know how Iââ
You shrug in return, âjust cookies Meg, no biggie.â
âYou sure?â
A soft grin makes its way onto your face, âsuper sure, Megan.â
âSo Iâm forgiven?â the girl practically beams.Â
âIn what world would you not be?â you laugh back.
Except that phrase didnât feel so funny anymore.
It really didnât feel so funny anymore.
5. Sorry, sick.
It was only natural that the apologies would fade into routine as time went on. What fool would believe otherwise? You found yourself waiting for them during your day. A droplet of spoiled milk, a miscount in choreography, a step on your toes during a photoshoot. You discovered solace in the sound of those two words on her lips. A sanctuary she cut out of her soul for you.Â
Over time, your heart has built a tolerance to the words. The more they were uttered, the less your chest ached at its sound. The words would slide into your ear channel and out the other without the bat of an eye. Calming even. If you dared to call it so.Â
It was a quiet morning. One where the world seemed to flow in rhythm with time. A small hum on your lips as you flipped pancakes on the stove. Toast popping out of the toaster with the perfect cha-ching right as you turned to check on it. Sunlight streaming in from the windows, right onto the dining table where the house plants basked in its radiant glory. It was early enough your other members werenât awake yet, but late enough the birds were already happily chirping, hopping from one tree branch to another.Â
So peaceful, you didnât even hear Meganâs footsteps until a small sneeze echoed in the quiet serenity.Â
âBless you,â you say, continuing to work on the pancakes. Usually, Megan would apologize. A meek sorry thatâd tumble out before you could stop her, instead, a weak sniffle was heard. With a swift flick of your fingers, you shut the stove and turned around to stare at her. In front of you stood Megan. Hair tussled, the collar of her sweatshirt sliding off her left shoulder, face pale and her lips glistening as she stood there in a small pout. Within seconds, she sniffled again, grabbing a tissue to whip away at her runny nose.Â
âSorry, sick,â she mumbles into the thin sheet of paper.
The words donât even register in your mind at the sight of her well-being. Your feet slide across the floor in seconds to cup her face, feeling her forehead for a fever. âLove, youâre burning up,â the words rush out of your lips, âgod why are you up?â
âPâpracticeââ she quickly defends before you cut her off with a huff, âpractice? In this state? No, youâre going to sleep, babes.â
âY/nââ
âDonât even think about it.â The words are stern with no room for negotiation. Only at the tone does Megan resign.
âSorry I ruined your morningââ
Sorry.Â
That word again.Â
Yet your brain simply floated over it, filling the syllables with empty space instead. You donât mind that she broke your hard earned peace this morning with her sickness. You donât even dwell on the apology she uttered.Â
You shush her.
You bring her back to her room.
You grab medicine from the bathroom cabinet.
You grab her a cold wet towel.
You text management then Sophia that the two of you canât make it to practice today.
As simple as that.
6. Sorry.
You had better things to worry about than apologies now.Â
Idol life. Invasive fans. Managementâs demands. Performances. Brand deals. A secret relationship. Did you even have to continue?Â
You donât have time to be bothered about those two words.
It had already been a long day. Back to back rehearsals, vocal runs, filmed tiktoks, interviews. Another day, another thing pulling you in a million directions. Fatigue was a constant companion now. Rest was a foreign concept.
You had been sprawled face first on Meganâs bed. Phone thrown onto the bedside table. Meganâs body pressed over yours as she grumbled on and on about the ridiculous schedule.
âMegan, is that your phone?â you sigh with your eyes closed as vibrations swim through your body from the rectangular shaped warmth buzzing over your lower back.Â
The girl groans, âfine,â before she pushes herself up and takes out her phone to put it on do not disturb mode. You wait for her to set it aside and drape back over you, but cool air is all that awaits for moments on end.
Slowly, vision returns to you once you peel your eyelids apart. âWhatâs the matter?â you rasp out, eager to return to the rest you had been desperately craving.
âManagement wants us to do a live, babe,â Megan says, voice soft, careful.
Immediately your face falls back into the sheets of her bed, âtell me you're kidding me.â Still, after a few moments you pull yourself together, roll onto your back and sit up to Megan already setting the phone camera up.
It doesnât take long for the fans to file in once your girlfriend pressed the livestream button.
@/luluvrs: ARE WE FINALLY GETTING A MEGY/N LIVE? @/hereagain4u: this is historic?? @/miagamegirl: Missed you guys a lot <33
It didnât take long for conversation to flow. It was the reason why everyone loved your livestreams with Megan anyways. It just made sense.Â
Megan hummed as she leaned in closer to the screen in order to read a comment. The live felt so natural. Thatâs probably the reason why the following words flowed out of her mouth before she could stop it.
@/lovelee4u: someone pls drop a fun question :D @/manzix: is this a Q&A? @/ongoingchaos: who is your celebrity crush?
âOoo, easy question! My girlfriend y/n of course!â Megan blurts out without a second thought before the realization dawns on her. In an instant, her already tired face somehow manages to pale even more.Â
@/hermslore: UH IS THAT A HARD LAUNCH? @/lafortezasboy: Iâm not sure if this is good⊠@/vivilvr: SO MEGY/N IS REAL?? WAIT WHAT??
You feel your eyes widen. Your eardrums boom at the side of your face. There wasnât even a chance for you to stop her before she unveiled the secret even management was unaware of. The feeling of your blood draining from your face was instant as both Megan and you sat there in shock.
Comments flew by in seconds as the world zeroed in on Meganâs sentence. There was no backtracking available. The words were out. Their meaning was undeniable.
@/mayzini: theyâre gagged rn @/emdashofficial: PR NIGHTMARE? @/g7rlcrush: um so⊠I donât think this live is staying up after this
Once Megan snapped out of her daze, her hand flew in lighting speed to the end live button.Â
But the damage was done.Â
Both your phones were blowing up with messages from your fellow members and management, yet all you hear is Meganâs whispered apology.
âSorry.â
Youâre not sure if sorry will cut it this time.
ii. Youâre forgiven, you know you always will be.
Once the live ended. You knew this day would come. Every breath you took hung mid air inside your chest as you waited for the pin to drop.
You ran through every probable consequence in your mind. You prepared yourself for every worst case scenario. Maybe some executive will pull Megan out of a rehearsal and give her a long winded speech, say something like, âMegan Skiendiel. We get it. You're young, you want to fall in love, but with someone in the group? Do you understand how big of a scandal this is? You need to break it off. You could be with anyone in the world, HYBE x Geffen can be lenient with that, but someone in the group with you is too far. Especially with you explicitly stating it.â Perhaps theyâd say it softer, âMegan⊠You need to understand that this is bad PR. You and y/n must break it off for the sake of the group.â Maybe there was even a chance that the whole ordeal would blow over swiftly and silently though text, with Megan getting a message like âMegan Skiendiel. End it.â
That was until it finally happened.
That was when you realized it was nothing like what you envisioned. It was worse, because it was raw, it hurt, and it visibly tore her apart and you in relation. Because at the end of the day, what else could you expect? It just had to contain those two words.
Iâm sorry.
And she meant it.Â
It wasnât the throwaway apology you detested.
Megan meant it.
Megan Meiyok Skiendiel was deathly apologetic.
Maybe to a flaw.
It was a quiet night. One where all the other members left to go hang out with friends or their lovers while you were too anxious to go anywhere. Thus, you settled on keeping yourself cooped up inside the dorms.
That was when Megan Skiendiel found you.
Legs to your chest, feet on the sofa, chin on your knees. It was almost a sorry sight.Â
She didnât mean to, but she peeled the bandaid off slowly. Tediously. Too gentle.Â
âY/nââ she began but you cut her off before she could finish.
âJust donât Megan,â you whisper, already knowing where the conversation was headed.
Megan paused before she restarted, âyou know I donât want toââ
âBut youâre still doing it so whatâs the difference?â you retort back, head finally lifting off your knees to stare back at her.
You watch the tears churn in her eye socket, the way those big brown orbs glistened under the soft living room lighting. The girl had to physically peel her lips apart to mutter the next phrase, âwe have to break upâŠâ
A bitter laugh leaves your mouth, âhave to? Of course we have to Megan. Are you kidding me? What else could even possibly occur now? Lose it all?â
The words shoot out sharper than usual, making Megan shrink back a little, forcing the tears to finally ease out onto her cheeks, dripping onto the sofa, leaving salty marks in its wake. Her mouth opens and you can almost predict what sheâs going to say next. âDonât,â you warn.
Megan doesnât listen.
âMegan, just donât,â you repeat, voice stern before fading. A sinking feeling pulling your stomach underwater while an indescribable itch clawed up your esophagus. You tried to hide the tears that brimmed your eyes by looking away from the girl.
Meganâs brows furrowed. You knew she never intended on making you cry. âY/n, please. This can be temporary. After a while longer maybe theyâll let us, Iââ
âOh who are you kidding?â you laugh, choking down on a sob, âwho are you fooling, Megan? You know what? Just donât say it⊠please donât say it,â your voice finally breaks.Â
âButââ
âStop MeganâŠâ her name hung in the empty cabinet of your chest, the only thing that now remains as you continue to beg and plead the girl to swallow her following sentence, âplease just no-ââ
âI still love you⊠Iâm sorryâŠâ
A delicate, broken, wreaked scoff escapes your lips, âI told you to stop, Megan. Donât make it any more real than neededâŠâ You finally turn back to look at her. Your own tear streaked face mirroring hers, âwhy did you say it knowing itâd hurt me?â
âIâm sorry Iââ Megan fumbles over her words.
Again, those three syllables. You just wished that sound would die on her tongue, stick to the roof of her mouth like superglue and never be able to escape again. Yet, you continued, âyouâre forgiven, you know you always will be.â
Because that was the truth. Youâd always forgive Megan Meiyok Skiendiel. At the end of the day, you still remember your promise to her all those summers ago. You remember it all so vividly now. Why the lighthearted hatred for the word now ran so deep in your veins.
All because of Megan.
You hated how that phrase dangled off her tongue like a sweet candy. How it had burrowed under your skin to the extent where you forgot the pain. It burned you. Every. Single. Time, but she never stopped. No. She always continued.
For apologies were her love language.
And Megan loved you.
Oh, just why did you have to love Megan Meiyok Skiendiel back?
7. I just wanted to say Iâm really sorry.
Youâd been avoiding Megan ever since, putting Lara or Sophia between the two of you in every interview, leaving a room the second she showed up, refusing to meet her eyes. It was evident to everyone that something had broken after that live.Â
Yet, the world is a funny thing.
It only made sense for fate to play a cruel joke on you with a around the circle moment.Â
It only made sense the next time the memories came flooding back it would be another livestream.
Thankfully, this one was with the whole group instead.
@/edamameiyok: ot7 the group is back! @/charlvr: lowkey miss seeing everyone @/av4nzini: my girls <33
Before the stream started, you had taken meticulous measures to make sure Megan and you were seated on opposite ends of the couch. A remark to Sophia to keep the two of you apart. A drag to pull Yoonchae right next to you on the edge. Insisting Megan should sit on the furthest end from you, beside Lara, so it was easier to grab her bag on the table though the extra step genuinely made no difference. You didnât want this live to go astray again. It couldnât. Youâre not sure if you could handle it if it did.
It was a simple livestream. Everyone hops on and promotes the new album coming out. Quick Q&A. Show the fans nothing was wrong. It was supposed to be straightforward, but of course, nothing was ever straightforward with Megan Skiendiel.
It didnât take long before you felt a stare boring into the side of your head. You tried to ignore it, you really did, turning to Yoonchae to talk about your favorite lyrics, teasing the fans with potential spoilers, helping Lara freestyle a song. Nothing worked.
You felt it. The silent apology. The wave of silent apologies for ruining the special thing the two of you had.
@/raspberridani: Why is megan staring so hard @/angelwings-fly: this feels awkward as hell⊠@/modanisgf: uh did we miss a chapter?
It didnât take long for fans to catch on either.
@/coolwyous: 1-800-yearner? @/katseyeluv: is she okay?? @/theosanctuary: the side eye Megan got is insane
You watched as Lara quickly nudged Megan, and how your leader had shot the girl a glare to knock it off. It didnât work. Megan's eyes stayed locked on you, the whole entire livestream.
After the live, it didnât take long for Megan to come find you in the dorm kitchen to utter those horrendous words.
âI just wanted to say Iâm really sorryââ
âKnock it off Megan,â you bite with no regret for the harsh words when the version of you from mere weeks ago would have profusely apologized for such a tone.
The pitiful apology irritated you now. It reminded you of every reason that you hated those words. Every reason the words sounded like nails on a chalkboard to your eardrums.
They only came when it was already too late.
They only came to mend a wound that was already bound to leave a scar.Â
They only came when everything was beyond salvageable.
They only came now.
8. I just wanted to say I'm sorry I slipped like that.
Every time someone would mutter the darn word, you were reminded of her again. You wanted to curse the girl for ruining such a simple phrase. Somehow, leaving your hatred for the phrase deeper than before, something you didnât even think was possible.
You can still recall when you looked forward to the tour. A chance to be around your girlfriend more. A chance for lingering touches and carefully placed eye contact to be acceptable, mere fan service. A dream that was now crushed. A mere infatuation with a simple what if.Â
Now every time at a tour stop, you had to hear her stupid apologies everywhere. From a worker who accidentally stepped on your foot, to a fan that apologized for bothering you before asking for an autograph. You swear the world was haunting you at this rate, keeping the wound fresh, making it ache so you would remember how painful love is, so youâll avoid it for eternity now.Â
You shouldâve known Megan would slip up during the tour. Forget the careful balance the two of you were keeping and return to before, the version of the two of you that didnât tip toe around each other or read into each other's words. A version of the pair of you that held trust like it was a given, instead of something fragile to protect and shield.
It was the last stop on the tour, you were almost certain that Megan would remember to leave you alone for the full duration.Â
You were wrong.
Soundcheck.
A microphone in your hands as you waved to the fans and read their personalized signs. You made hearts to cameras and blew kisses to eager eyes. You barely felt the pair of arms slide around your waist.Â
That was until you felt the familiar feeling of Meganâs chin resting on your shoulder. The way she used to, with a slight quirk of her head and a calm breath.
You could feel your world freeze.
You swear you stopped breathing for a second before the world zeroed back in. Before Megan felt your body pause and immediately let go like the memories of the breakup only just arrived in her brain.Â
The fans were too ecstatic to notice, and your feet moved at lightning speed so you could run across the stage to a corner far away from her.
You spent the rest of your night avoiding the girl.
You spent the rest of the night avoiding the one person who had once made the thought of going on tour a fever dream in your mind.Â
The show had ended, you were backstage. You were desperately hoping sheâd keep her distance, but of course, how could she resist.
Those three syllables begged to be let out, and those three syllables found its way to you.
âWait!â you heard her exclaim, stopping you in your path, âI just wanted to say I'm sorry I slipped like that. I didnât mean to, it just⊠happened and Iââ
âCut it out, Megan. Itâs fine. Itâs whatever.â
9. Sorry, I shouldnât have done that.
You genuinely hoped that would be the last time youâd hear her say those words back to you. You were wrong. Of course you were.
An award show where everything had dragged on for too long. A seating arrangement you didnât choose but had to abide by, and of course, a girl you had too much history with sitting right next to you.Â
Katseye was nominated for many awards tonight. You were hoping that fact would keep her occupied enough to forget your presence beside her. It didnât.
You felt naive for thinking it couldâve.Â
You watched as glitter danced off of Meganâs skin. If it had been a few months ago, you wouldâve thought she looked ethereal. Now, you just feel like sheâs a battered and bruised siren wearing angel wings, luring you into her depths. Begging for you to drown in her wake, as she was drowning too. What a fitting dynamic. Her dress hugged her figure perfectly. Truly a sight to behold, while the lace trim danced in the chilly venue air, fluttering against the air conditioning.Â
You hope you look as good as Megan did right now. You hope your own outfit made it just as hard for her to take her eyes off you as it was for you to take yours off her. It felt almost petty, but pettiness wasnât an emotion you strayed away from anymore.
It had become a companion to the unknown pain that always lurked in your chest.
It almost made everything almost bearable.Â
The whole ceremony had continued without a hitch until the group was announced as one of the nominees for a major award. That was when you felt the touch. That was the second you felt Meganâs fingers find yours.Â
You could almost curse her for the action on the spot, but you let the anger simmer. It was an award show after all. The two of you were groupmates at the end of the day, right?
Nothing more.Â
You felt her finger curl around yours as all of you held your breath waiting for the winner to be announced. The silence between words were too loud to be ignored, yet you couldnât tell if it was from the anticipation of a trophy, or the silent battle happening in Megan and your heart.Â
It didnât matter at the end of the day, as when all seven of you returned back to your hotel rooms that night, your worst nightmare found its way back to you.
You listened as Megan paused, tapped your shoulder, then apologized for interlocking your fingers together before the awards were announced. âSorry, I shouldnât have done that. Even though we were sitting beside each other, that was out of line,â the girl spoke, fiddling with her fingers and picking at her acrylic nails.
For some reason, you just replied back, âand Iâm sorry for letting you. We should stop blurring the line.â
For the first time ever. You apologized. You apologized the exact way Megan did.
The girl who had once been your world nodded back.
You did too.Â
And somehow, that was the end of that dreaded exchange where apologies were uttered too fast, too informally. For you had caught onto the game now, apologies were easy to say.
Apologies, said more than what the word itself meant.
It enveloped a lot more.Â
Words that couldnât be said. Not anymore.
iii. Then stop.
You thought that was the end of it all. A silent truce. A silent agreement that apologies were just a norm between the two of you now. Megan would swallow down her pride and guilt and you would swallow down your own hatred for the word.Â
It shouldâve been enough.
But of course it wasnât. Of course it wasnât when Megan felt the silence between the two of you eat away at her soul every moment it could.Â
Thatâs why she stopped you. A quiet morning where you expected tranquil peace. Thatâs when she planned her attack. A day you thought would be reserved just for you.Â
âY/n, can we just talk quickly?â she blurts out the second you leave your solo dorm room.
You blink in response, still slightly groggy from the night's sleep before responding, âsure?â The uncertainty in your tone was clear. Megan shouldâve taken it as a sign to back down. You let her enter your room. You let the door shut. You let her speak, and she did.Â
âIâm sorry I never tried to make it work. I just⊠I never should have outed us. I should have fought when they tried to break us up. I⊠Iâve apologized so much in this relationship and Iâve done nothing to change, and⊠Iâm sorry about thatâŠâ Megan says, the words rumbling out of her throat desperately as she tries to understand her own mind.
Megan Skiendiel spoke words that should have mended your soul, but they didnât. They came a little too late.
âI never wanted to hurt youââ she added.
That phrase was your last straw, because at the end of the day⊠âYou did,â you responded, âyou hurt meââ
âI know,â the girl sighed back, and before another excuse would make its way out of her lips, you said something unexpected.
âThen stop.â
Because in every world you were supposed to forgive her. In every world where the sky is blue and the grass is green you were supposed to stand in front of Megan Skiendiel and forgive her. Tell her it was all okay. That at the end of the day you couldnât care less because you had promised her, youâd always forgive her. You loved her. Forgiveness was a guarantee. Until now, where it no longer was one.Â
Instead, you stood there, your eyes met hers, and you asked her in opposition, âdo you ever wonder what would have happened if we had chosen differently?â
Then you watched. You watched as Meganâs face morphed into emotions you didnât know existed, before it landed into something pained. Guilty and pained. Guilty, regretful, and pained. âAll the time,â she whispered back.
âDo you think in every one of those, in every one of those what ifâs, we'd still be together?â the words hum out delicately into the still air.
âYea⊠I think we would.â
A small smile grazed your lips, âI think we would too.â
In that moment you knew, apologies were her. Megan Skiendiel was a puzzle pieced together by small apologies, and you were a candle, where every match was a simple sorry. In any other world, the candle would brighten up a dimly lit room, but in this one, it fell, and the puzzle caught flame instead.Â
Apologizes no longer seemed so bad. They just seemed like Megan, the girl who spoke them into song like a sun's rays and quiet companionship.Â
The both of you had tried too hard. She had tried to stop her habit of apologizing, while you had tried to stop your hatred for them. Both of you were trying to change yourselves and each other into people you werenât. Megan into someone who didnât feel every little mistake to the biggest degree, and you, someone who was willing to push aside small mistakes as long as you got to hold her in your arms.Â
Megan had rooted herself in every sorry, while you had rooted yourself into every I forgive you.
The two of you followed each other around like shadows.Â
Ever so close, but also so far away.Â
Now, every time you hear an apology, all that comes to mind is Megan Skiendiel.
Her laugh, her dimples, her puppy dog eyes.Â
Her apologies.Â
That's when it hit you.
You never stopped loving Megan Skiendiel.
You just stopped remembering that love wasnât perfect.Â
Maybe in a different world itâd still be you and her.Â
Maybe in a different world, people would joke that the apologizer and forgiver would make a perfect pair.
damn âčïž
















