"You should try Park Me Up, " Jake suggested, his Australian accent stretching the words.
"fuck what up?" you asked, your voice unintentionally louder in confusion.
Jake stifled a laugh. "dude, Park Me Up. It's a guitar shop that sells vinyls, too. Heard the selection's pretty dope. Apparently, the owner's nephew curates it." He chuckled, rolling his eyes when he realized what you'd misheard. Danielle, sitting to your right, let out a quiet laugh at your expense.
pairing - guitar shop worker! jay x female reader
w.c - 22.4k
content: y/n is a reserved individual, who moves to seattle for university, where she meets a silver haired boy working in a guitar shop while looking for vinyls. ( mentions of members from other groups, or in enha)
warnings! jay is very very indecisive, mentions of cheating, kissing, heavy heavy angst, kissing, mutual pinning, slow burn. (lmk if i missed out anything...)
a/n: hello everyone ! i finally published my first full length fic after forever lol... It's christmas already and it should be a jolly fic but... im a sucker for angst... i hope you guys like it ! Happy holidays lovelies! Also thank you to my offline friend who proofread this for me, and thank you grammerly for correcting my grammers LOL.
You never expected yourself to fall for Jay. You really didn't. You never intended to be so completely enamored by the boy who worked at his uncle's guitar shop—the boy who always showed up in an oversized white shirt and gray sweats, hair falling messily over his forehead, yet somehow looking effortlessly perfect. The boy with silver hair that shimmered under the dim store lights as he strummed chords on a guitar he probably didn't plan to buy. But here you were, hopelessly in love with a boy who had a girlfriend.
Moving to Seattle had been a decision more practical than emotional, but it still hurt. You stood by the window of your tiny apartment, staring out at the city as it buzzed with energy, even on a quiet Wednesday night. The view was breathtaking—glittering skyscrapers against the dark sky, streets glowing with endless streams of headlights and neon signs. Yet, despite the beauty, there was an ache inside you. You missed home, the warmth of your family, and the familiarity of your old life.
Your parents hadn’t made the choice any easier. Both renowned architects, they had high hopes that you would follow in their footsteps. Seattle was where they had both studied, fallen in love, and started building their careers. To them, sending you here felt like a full-circle moment, a chance for you to experience what they had cherished so deeply. To you, it felt like being uprooted.
“You need this,” your mother had said, her voice softer than usual as she helped pack your bags. “A new city, new challenges—it’ll be good for you. Just promise me you’ll explore. Don’t hide away in your room with your vinyls all day.”
You’d reluctantly agreed, not wanting to disappoint her.
A few weeks had passed since school started, and to your surprise, things weren’t as bad as you’d feared. Your decision to major in architecture felt natural, like a familiar rhythm you’d always known. Growing up with two architects as parents meant you had a solid foundation, and the workload—while demanding—was manageable.
But school wasn’t the part that scared you. It was the loneliness you dreaded most. Your mom’s parting words echoed in your mind as you forced yourself to step out of your comfort zone, accepting an invitation from a friendly classmate named Beomgyu to grab lunch. That one small decision changed everything.
Beomgyu quickly became one of your closest friends, and through him, you met Danielle and Ning Ning, two of the most vibrant people you’d ever known. They, in turn, introduced you to their wider circle—Jake, Jungwon, and Sunoo. Jake and Jungwon were Twitch streamers, a detail you found both amusing and fascinating.
“Jake’s not even good at the games he streams,” Jungwon teased one afternoon as you all sat around a table at a cozy ice cream shop downtown. “He keeps dying and getting pity donations from girls who think he’s cute.”
Jake let out a dramatic whine, lips jutting into a pout as he folded his arms. “That’s not true! I’m good at some games.”
Danielle snorted, pointing her spoon at him. “You literally called Fall Guys a ‘competitive battle royale.’”
Jake turned to you for backup, his eyes wide and pleading. “You believe me, right?”
You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound bubbling out of you before you could stop it. Moments like these felt warm and grounding, like you were finally finding a place for yourself in this unfamiliar city
"Did you see? Daniel Caesar's new album just dropped," Jake whispered, leaning closer to you in class. His eyes flicked toward the front of the lecture hall, where the professor was mid-sentence.
"Never Enough, right? Yeah, I saw," you replied, keeping your voice low to avoid getting caught. "I think I'm gonna hit up a store to buy the vinyl. I need it for my collection."
"You should try Park Me Up," Jake suggested, his Australian accent stretching the words.
"fuck what up?" you asked, your voice unintentionally louder in confusion.
Jake stifled a laugh. "dude, Park Me Up. It’s a guitar shop that sells vinyls, too. Heard the selection’s pretty dope. Apparently, the owner’s nephew curates it." He chuckled, rolling his eyes when he realized what you'd misheard. Danielle, sitting to your right, let out a quiet laugh at your expense.
"Oh, right. Got it," you mumbled, quickly typing the shop's name into Google. It was only fifteen minutes from campus—definitely worth checking out.
Later that afternoon, curiosity got the better of you. With your classes done for the day and a spare hour on your hands, you decided to make the trip to Park Me Up. Jake's recommendation had piqued your interest, and you figured it wouldn't hurt to check out the shop.
The small bell above the door jingled softly as you pushed it open, stepping into the cozy, slightly dim space. The scent of polished wood and aged vinyl filled the air, and rows of guitars lined the walls, their polished surfaces gleaming under the warm light. In the corner, a shelf was dedicated to records, a modest but eclectic collection that immediately drew your attention.
You were flipping through the vinyls, scanning the neatly labeled dividers, when a voice startled you.
“Looking for something specific?”
You glanced up to find a boy standing behind the counter, his silver hair catching the light in a way that made it impossible not to stare for a second too long. He was wearing a slightly oversized white shirt over his grey sweats, the casual look somehow amplifying his presence rather than diminishing it. The silver haired boy was already looking at you curiously, albeit an amused smile on his face.
“Uh, yeah,” you managed, your voice almost catching. “I was looking for Daniel Caesar’s Never Enough. Heard you guys might have it.”
He smiled faintly, the kind of smile that felt effortlessly genuine. “Good choice. We just got a shipment in. Let me grab it for you.”
You watched as he moved to the back, his stride unhurried but purposeful. When he returned, he held the vinyl in his hands like it was something sacred, carefully placing it on the counter between you.
“Here you go,” he said, his voice soft. “This one’s already been pretty popular.”
“Thanks,” You hesitated before asking, “So, do you curate the collection here?”
He blinked in surprise before nodding. “Yeah, I do. How’d you know?”
“Word of mouth,” you said, shrugging lightly. “A friend recommended the shop. Said the vinyl selection’s great because of you.”
His smile widened slightly, and there was something in his expression that made your stomach flip. “Glad to hear it. I try to make it as diverse as possible. Let me know if there’s something you’re looking for, and I’ll see what I can do.”
You opened your mouth to say something, but the boy beat you to it. “What genre of music do you listen to?” he asked, his tone casual but curious.
You hesitated, feeling a little self-conscious. Some of your friends always teased you for having the music taste of a middle-aged woman. “Um, I’m not sure if you’d know them, but... Oasis? Red Jumpsuit Apparatus, The 1975—and, you know, the more basic ones like Frank Ocean, Tyler, Kendrick…” Your voice trailed off, and you missed the way the boy’s smile grew wider with every name you mentioned, his eyes lighting up with excitement.
“Oasis? No way. That’s my favorite band,” the silver-haired boy blurted, his enthusiasm catching you off guard. “Usually, there aren’t many people our age who listen to them. My friends always call me an old soul because of my taste in music. But finally—finally—I don’t have to be an old soul alone!”
He leaned back, grinning from ear to ear. “Honestly, I think I've met my match. I listen to almost every artist you just named. You might even be better at curating playlists than I am,” he chuckled, the sunlight streaming through the window catching on his silver hair and making his honey-tanned skin seem to glow.
Your cheeks flushed slightly at his enthusiasm, the way his eyes lit up as if he’d just stumbled upon some rare treasure. You hadn’t expected this reaction, let alone from someone who looked like they belonged on the cover of a magazine instead of behind the counter of a record shop.
“You're just saying that,” you said with a shy laugh, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I'm not that great at curating. I just... listen to what feels right, you know?”
The boy shook his head, his smile unwavering.“No, I mean it. Oasis is a bold choice, especially for someone who looks…” He trailed off, suddenly catching himself.
Your brow arched slightly. "Looks what?”
He cleared his throat, his confidence faltering for just a moment. “Looks like they'd be more into pop or something.”
You rolled your eyes, but there was no bite in your response.“Yeah, well, don't judge a book by its cover. Or a person by their playlist.”
His laugh was soft, the kind that made your chest tighten unexpectedly. “Fair enough.”
The conversation settled into a comfortable rhythm, the initial awkwardness melting away.
“Okay, I have to ask,” Jay said suddenly, leaning against the counter with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Favorite Oasis song?”
You hesitated, pretending to think it over even though you already knew the answer. “Don’t Look Back in Anger. Classic.”
He nodded approvingly, his grin widening. “Respect. Though, Live Forever might just take the top spot for me.”
You tilted your head, a playful challenge in your tone. “Strong choice. But I think Champagne Supernova could give it a run for its money.”
Jay’s laughter filled the shop, warm and unrestrained. “You’re good. I might just have to hire you as my personal music consultant.”
You were about to respond when the door chimed again, signaling another customer. Jay turned slightly to greet them, but his feet remained planted, standing in front of you with that wide, easy smile. To him, it felt like looking into a mirror—like seeing himself, just in the opposite gender.
You wanted to speak, to ask for his name, but the customer broke the moment, calling for his assistance.
“i've, um, got to go. See you around? ” he said softly, giving you one last glance. A dimple appeared on his left cheek as he smiled, the kind of smile that lingered, just like the glint of his silver hair catching the light. For a fleeting moment, it felt as though the world slowed down.
“See you,” you whispered to yourself, knowing he couldn’t hear you anymore. You carefully placed the vinyl back where you found it, a small smile tugging at your lips—because you knew you’d be coming back.
The soft click of the door echoed behind you, and the quiet hum of the city greeted you as you stepped onto the sidewalk. The night air was crisp, brushing against your cheeks, and for some reason, you couldn’t wipe the small smile off your face.
You couldn’t stop thinking about him. About his silver hair, the excitement in his voice when you mentioned Oasis, and the way he had lingered—just a little longer than he needed to—before walking away.
As you walked, your thoughts kept drifting back to the shop. To him. It was silly, really. You barely knew him. He was just a boy in a guitar shop. But something about him tugged at you in a way you couldn’t quite explain, as though a song you’d forgotten had started playing in the background of your life, soft and familiar.
Meanwhile, inside the shop, Jay was still standing behind the counter, his head tilted slightly as he watched you through the large front window. The orange glow from the streetlights traced the outline of your figure as you disappeared down the street, and for reasons he couldn’t quite articulate, his chest tightened.
It wasn’t often that someone caught his attention like that. Sure, plenty of customers passed through the shop, and Jay, ever the charmer, knew how to win people over with a smile or a bit of small talk. But this felt different. The way you spoke, the way you looked at him—like you really heard him, like you understood. It was rare. And it left a mark.
The sound of the other customer clearing their throat broke him from his trance. He turned back, hastily fixing his expression into something neutral, professional, but the remnants of his smile were still there.
“Sorry, what was that?” he asked, trying to focus.
The customer repeated their request, but even as Jay worked, his mind stayed far away, replaying your words, your quiet demeanor, the way your face flushed when you saw him smile at you. It was such a small thing, but it had stuck with him—how you’d looked so startled, yet soft and genuine all at once, like no one had smiled at you that way in a long time.
He wasn’t quite sure why it mattered. Or why it kept tugging at the corners of his thoughts, refusing to let go.
Jay’s hands moved on autopilot as he rang up the customer’s purchase, his mind somewhere else entirely. He thought about the way your voice had softened when you spoke about the bands you loved, how your fingers brushed the edge of the vinyl as though it were something precious. And the way you whispered—so quietly he wasn’t even sure he’d heard it—“see you.”
You’d meant it, hadn’t you? That you’d come back?
Jay blinked back into focus as the customer grabbed their bag and left, muttering a “thanks” on their way out. He let out a breath, leaning back against the counter, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck. This was ridiculous. It wasn't like he hadn't met interesting people before.
But you weren't like the others.
You didn't try to impress him, didn't try to force conversation. You were just... yourself. Unapologetically quiet, honest, and deeply sincere in that brief moment. It felt like a melody he couldn’t place but one he already knew by heart.
He ran a hand through his silver hair, glancing out the shop window to the darkened street. You were long gone now, but the image of you—standing there in the soft glow of the shop’s lights, lips quirking into that small, shy smile—lingered in his mind.
“Get it together, Jay,” he muttered to himself. But the truth was, he already knew he’d be watching for you. Waiting for that door to chime again.
And when it did, he wasn’t sure what would happen—he just knew he wanted to find out.
The soft jingle of the bell above the door announced your arrival. You stepped into the shop, your eyes darting instinctively toward the counter—only to find it empty.
He must not be working today, you thought, a tinge of disappointment settling in. Still, the familiar scent of old vinyl records mixed with the faint tang of guitar polish surrounded you, offering its usual comfort.
Then you heard it. Soft, deliberate strums of a guitar, playing the chords to “Beside You” by Keshi—one of your favorite songs. Curiosity tugged at you, and you ventured deeper into the store, following the sound.
The shop was quieter today. A few customers lounged in the listening area, sipping coffee or flipping through newspapers. As you rounded a shelf, your eyes landed on him.
The silver-haired boy sat perched on a wooden stool, a black-and-white guitar cradled in his lap—a Fender Stratocaster, you’d later learn, named Veronica.
You stood there, captivated. Every movement—the way his fingers glided along the strings, the way the melody hummed through the shop, the way his expression softened when he played—held you still. An unspoken feeling stirred inside you, unfamiliar and warm, as you watched him.
The soft strums of the guitar reverberated through the small shop, blending seamlessly with the faint crackling of a vinyl playing somewhere in the background. Your heart thudded softly against your chest as you watched him, completely lost in his own world—eyes low, brows furrowed in concentration, the slightest pout on his lips.
It wasn't fair. How could someone look so effortlessly perfect in such a simple moment? The silver strands of his hair fell over his forehead, catching the warm afternoon light filtering in through the shop’s windows. The oversized white shirt he wore draped lazily over his frame, the sleeves pushed up just enough to reveal his forearms as his fingers moved gracefully over the frets.
And the song—your song.
It wasn’t just the way he played it that captivated you, but the feeling in every note. It was as if he wasn't just strumming chords; he was speaking in a language that only the two of you understood.
You didn't want to interrupt. You didn't want to break the spell. So you stayed there, hovering silently between the shelves of vinyls, letting yourself get lost in the way he swayed slightly with the rhythm, the way his foot tapped softly against the floor.
Then, the song ended with a final, lingering note. The hum of the strings faded into silence, leaving the air thick and still. For a moment, he stayed there, letting his hands rest on the guitar strings, eyes still downcast.
And then he looked up.
The sudden shift in his gaze nearly made you flinch, your breath catching in your throat. His eyes—soft brown, filled with a quiet warmth—locked onto yours, and for a second, neither of you spoke. His expression flickered from surprise to something unreadable before that familiar smile crept onto his face.
“You came back.” His voice was soft, laced with both surprise and something else—something you couldn't quite place.
You nodded, a little breathless as you stepped forward. “I—I didn't mean to interrupt. You were playing Beside You. It's… it's one of my favorites.”
His smile widened just a touch, dimples peeking through. “Yeah? Mine too. Guess we really do have the same taste.”
He carefully set the guitar down on its stand—Veronica, you remembered—and turned toward you, leaning back against the counter. “What brings you in today? Another vinyl to add to the collection?”
You shrugged, trying to play it cool despite the nervous fluttering in your chest. “Something like that. I actually just—” you hesitated, unsure how to finish the sentence. “—wanted to see what was new.”
Jay raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You sure? Or did you come back to listen to me butcher more songs?”
You laughed softly, shaking your head. “I didn't know you could play the guitar, but You’re too good to butcher anything.”
His smile faltered just slightly, as if caught off guard by your words, but he recovered quickly, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, I've got a long way to go, but thanks. I’ve picked up guitar since i was a 5, it's quite normal if your uncle owns a guitar shop. "His voice was quieter now, a bit more vulnerable.
There was a beat of silence, but it didn’t feel awkward. It was comfortable, like the calm right before a storm, where something hung unsaid between the two of you.
“Want me to play something else?” he asked, suddenly breaking the stillness.
You blinked, startled. “For me?”
“Yeah, you're already here, so why not? Pick a song,” he chuckled, settling back down onto the stool with an easy smile.
You paused, considering. “What about… Oasis?‘Wonderwall’ ?”
His head shot up, eyes lighting up like a kid at Christmas. “You're seriously making my day right now.”
The shop seemed to fade away, the quiet hum of the world outside disappearing into the soft, unpolished notes of the guitar. It was just you, the boy with silver hair.
I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now.
Your breath hitched when his gaze met yours. It wasn’t just a fleeting glance this time. It lingered—his brown eyes holding yours with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. His lips curled into the faintest smile, as if he’d felt the weight of the words, too, as if the song were meant for this moment.
For you.
You gripped the edge of the shelf behind you, knuckles turning pale as you tried to steady yourself. The warmth flooding your chest, the flutter in your stomach—you’d never felt this before. Not like this. It wasn’t some grand moment in a romantic movie, but it felt just as significant. Like something you weren’t supposed to feel but couldn’t resist.
You wondered, then, if he felt it too.
The way his eyes softened every time he looked at you. The way he smiled like he was holding onto a secret you didn’t yet know. The way he played this song, one so simple yet so heavy, as if the lyrics were carving a space just for the two of you.
Your heart whispered things you weren’t ready to say out loud. Does he see me the way I see him? Does he feel this, too?
It felt like magic, the kind of moment that you’d replay in your head on sleepless nights, the kind of moment you’d tuck away carefully, afraid it might slip through your fingers.
The strumming grew softer as he reached the final verses, his fingers deftly strumming the last chords. But even as the sound faded into stillness, the look he gave you lingered, as though he, too, had felt something shift.
The silence between you was heavier now, filled with words neither of you dared to speak.
“ that was… really good,” you said softly, breaking the silence. Your voice came out quieter than you’d intended, almost trembling.
The boy’s smile widened, though his expression held something else—something deeper, more uncertain. He set the guitar down gently, leaning back slightly on the stool as his eyes stayed on you. “Thanks. I haven't played that one in a while.”
“Well, it didn't sound like it,” you replied, forcing a small laugh to break the tension that seemed to have wrapped itself around you both.
He tilted his head, his silver hair falling into his eyes before he brushed it away. “You really love this song, huh?”
You nodded, your fingers nervously playing with the hem of your sleeve. “Yeah. It's… special. Makes you feel things, you know?”
His gaze softened again, and for a moment, you thought he was going to say something—something important, something you weren't sure you were ready to hear. But instead, he smiled softly, a little wistfully.
“Yeah. I get that.”
And just like that, the moment passed, leaving you teetering on the edge of something unknown.
You both fell into a quiet that wasn't uncomfortable, but it wasn’t easy either. It was the kind of quiet where feelings settled heavy in the air, unspoken but undeniable. You wondered if he could hear how fast your heart was beating or if he could see the questions swirling in your mind.
“I just realized I don't even know your name. Mind gracing my ears with it?” the boy teased, his dimple deepening as he broke into a warm laugh.
He only has a dimple on the left side of his cheek, you thought to yourself, unable to ignore how effortlessly charming it made him look.
Your face flushed at his words, and you laughed softly, trying to play it cool. “It's Y/N.”
“Y/N,” he repeated, as if testing how it sounded. His grin widened. “Interesting name. I'm just plain old Jay. Or—if you're feeling formal—you can call me Jongseong. Most people just stick with Jay, though.”
He leaned casually against one of the shelves that displayed vinyls, crossing his arms as he watched you, the playful glint in his eyes never fading.
“Jay suits you,” you said quietly, the name lingering on your tongue like it belonged there. You glanced down at the vinyls displayed in front of you, fingers brushing absentmindedly over the edges, though your attention was nowhere near the records. It was on him—the way his smile tugged slightly higher on one side, the way his silver hair framed his face like it was meant to catch the light perfectly.
“Does it?” Jay mused, his tone teasing but gentle. “I always thought it was kind of boring. Plain. But I guess I’ll take your word for it.”
You laughed softly, shaking your head. “It’s not plain. It's…” You hesitated, meeting his gaze. “It's fitting.”
He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Fitting, huh? What’s that supposed to mean?”
You bit your lip, feeling the heat creeping up your face again. Why did he have to look at you like that—like you were the only person in the room? “I just mean… you don’t seem like a ‘Jongseong.’ You seem like a ‘Jay.’ Simple. Warm.”
Your voice trailed off as you realized what you’d said, your heart pounding in your chest. Warm? Did you really just say that out loud?
Jay’s dimple appeared again as he smiled, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. “Warm, huh?” He shifted his weight, leaning more comfortably against the shelf, and for a split second, it looked like he was trying to hide how flustered he was. “You’ve got a way with words, y/n.”
You looked away quickly, suddenly fascinated with the cover of a vinyl on the shelf. “I’m just being honest,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.
For a moment, the two of you fell into a comfortable silence, the tension settling like a quiet hum in the air between you. It wasn’t heavy, but it wasn’t light either—it was something else. Something unspoken.
Jay tilted his head, breaking the silence first. “So, y/n… what’s your story? You seem like someone who has one.”
You blinked, caught off guard by the question. “My story?”
“Yeah,” he said with a small shrug, his tone softer now. “Everyone’s got one. You don’t seem like the kind of person who just ends up here by accident.”
You exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of his question. “I… moved here for school,” you said, choosing your words carefully. “Architecture. My parents are both in the field, so it kind of feels like… I don’t know, like a path I’m supposed to follow.”
Jay’s expression softened, his head nodding slightly as if he understood more than you were saying. “That’s a lot to carry, huh?”
You looked up at him, startled by how easily he’d seen through you. “Yeah,” you admitted, your voice quiet. “Sometimes.”
There was no pity in his gaze, only understanding—like he’d felt the weight of expectation before too. “Well,” he said after a moment, his tone lighter, “for what it’s worth, it sounds like you’re doing fine. You’ve got good taste in music, so you can’t be that lost.”
You laughed at his attempt to lighten the mood, grateful for the small reprieve. “That’s your bar for success? Good taste in music?”
“Absolutely,” Jay replied, grinning. “It says a lot about a person.”
“And what does my music taste say about me?” you challenged, tilting your head slightly.
Jay’s smile faltered for just a moment, something unreadable flashing in his eyes before he answered. “It says you’ve got depth. You feel things. You appreciate what’s real.”
His words struck something deep in you, leaving you momentarily speechless. How could someone you’d barely met see you so clearly?
Jay cleared his throat, as if realizing he’d said too much. “Anyway,” he said, pushing himself off the shelf, his voice returning to its usual playful tone, “you’ll have to come back so I can keep quizzing you on music. I can’t let you win the ‘good taste’ trophy just yet.”
You smiled, your heart fluttering. “I’ll think about it.”
“You better,” he teased, his dimple reappearing. “Veronica and I will be waiting.”
“Veronica?”
He gestured toward the guitar leaning against the stool where he’d been playing earlier. “She’s temperamental, but she’s good to me.”
You laughed, shaking your head. “You named your guitar?”
“Of course I did,” Jay said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “She deserves it.”
You smiled as you watched him, your heart inexplicably light despite the unfamiliar feelings tugging at you. “Alright, Jay. I’ll be back to check in on you… and Veronica.”
“Looking forward to it,” he replied, his voice softening.
As you walked out of the shop, the bell chiming softly above you, you couldn’t help but glance back through the window. Jay was still standing there, watching you leave, a small smile resting on face.
You hadn’t gotten far when a familiar voice called out to you. It wasn’t hard to recognize—Jay.
Turning back in confusion, you spotted him jogging toward you, something tucked under his arm. As he got closer, you realized what it was: the vinyl you’d meant to buy on your first visit. Never Enough was nestled carefully against his chest, the moonlight catching his silver hair and making it glow like a halo.
Stopping in front of you, slightly out of breath, Jay held up the record and offered it to you.
“This is… for you,” he said, panting softly as he caught his breath. “Consider it a ‘nice to meet you’ gift.”
Your mouth fell open in shock, completely caught off guard. You stared at the vinyl, knowing you hadn’t paid for it. “I can’t,” you stammered, shaking your head and waving your hands frantically. “It’s too expensive, and… won’t your uncle beat you up for this?”
Even as you protested, the thought of his kindness sent a quiet warmth spreading through you.
That’s when it struck you how tall Jay really was. Looking straight ahead, you only met his shoulder. He leaned down, a teasing grin tugging at his lips as he whispered, “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
As quickly as he leaned in, he straightened back up, his playful expression unwavering. “Besides,” he exclaimed louder, puffing his chest out for effect, “I’m his nephew. What’s he gonna do? Fire his best employee and the guy with the best taste in the shop?”
He grinned, brushing a few stray strands of silver hair away from his face, the confidence in his voice making you laugh despite yourself.
You stared at him, stunned and unable to form a coherent response. The vinyl now resting in his hands, being held out to you like some kind of offering. It didn’t help that the teasing grin on his face had you feeling lightheaded, your heart hammering wildly in your chest.
“I really can’t take this,” you said again, though your voice wavered, betraying how much you wanted to accept it. “It’s too much.”
Jay tilted his head, the grin softening into something gentler, more sincere. “Y/n, it’s just a record,” he said quietly, though there was something in the way he said your name that made your heart stutter. “It’s not about what it costs. I just… I thought you’d like it.”
You met his gaze then, and the sincerity you found there nearly knocked the air out of your lungs. He meant it. There was no teasing now, no charm for the sake of charm. Just Jay—simple, warm, and standing in front of you with an earnestness that made your walls crumble just a little more.
Your lips parted, searching for something—anything—to say, but all you managed was, “Thank you.” The words were small, almost insignificant compared to the way your chest felt full and heavy all at once. “I really mean it.”
Jay’s grin returned, softer this time, and he placed the vinyl carefully in your hands. “Good,” he said, his voice quiet as if this moment was fragile. “Then it’s settled.”
You stared down at the vinyl, tracing the edge of it with your thumb as you tried to process the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. He didn’t have to do this for you. He barely even knew you. And yet, here he was, going out of his way to make sure you left with a smile.
“You’re really something, Jay,” you muttered, shaking your head in disbelief, though a smile tugged at the corners of your lips.
“And you’re really stubborn,” he shot back playfully, his dimple making another appearance as he chuckled. “But I guess we balance each other out.”
You rolled your eyes, clutching the vinyl closer to your chest as you tried to ignore the fluttering in your stomach. “You’re lucky you’re funny.”
“Lucky, huh?” he teased, tilting his head to the side as he looked at you. “I’ll take it.”
There was a brief pause, a moment suspended in time where neither of you spoke. The afternoon sun cast long shadows on the pavement, the light softening everything around you. For a second, you let yourself take in the sight of him—the way his silver hair fell just slightly over his eyes, the way his smile lingered even when he wasn’t speaking.
The silence between you wasn’t awkward, though it brimmed with something new. Something unsaid. You clutched the vinyl close to your chest, a smile tugging at your lips as you watched Jay recover his usual composure.
“Well,” you said finally, breaking the silence as you tried to steady your heartbeat. “I should get going before I take up your whole day.”
Jay smirked, his hands sliding back into the pockets of his grey sweats. “You say that like it’d be a bad thing.”
“Well,” he said after a beat, copying your words,“You better come back soon, okay? Veronica and I have more songs to play for you.”
You laughed, the sound light and genuine. “You really can’t go two minutes without mentioning Veronica, huh?”
“She’s a big part of my life,” Jay replied with mock seriousness, though the teasing sparkle in his eyes gave him away. “But don’t worry—I’ve got room for other important things too.”
Your heart stumbled over itself at his words, and you quickly looked away, pretending to be interested in the vinyl again. “I’ll come back,” you promised, your voice soft. “I’m starting to think this place might be my new favorite spot.”
Jay’s smile widened, a dimple peeking through on his left cheek. “Good. I’ll hold you to that.”
As he stepped back toward the shop, you watched him go, his silver hair catching the light one last time before he disappeared through the door. You stood there for a moment longer, clutching the record against your chest as a smile broke across your face.
You hadn’t expected to meet someone like him. Someone who made you feel seen without even trying. Someone who handed you a vinyl you’d wanted as though it were the easiest thing in the world.
Back inside the shop, Jay stood by the window, watching you disappear down the street with the vinyl tucked securely in your arms. His smile lingered, but there was a new weight settling in his chest—something unfamiliar, something he couldn’t quite name.
“She’s cool,” he murmured to himself, running a hand through his hair.
And as much as he tried to shake it, the image of your smile stayed with him, refusing to leave.
You found yourself visiting the record shop more often, stopping by every few days after classes, just to say hi to Jay. It always ended with you staying until the store closed, lost in conversation with him.
He greeted you with a warm smile every time, like he was anticipating your arrival. Time flew by when you were having fun. You’d pop in during the afternoon and leave only when the crickets began singing. It became a routine so familiar that even some customers started mistaking you for an employee.
Talking to Jay was easy. He seemed to understand how you felt, sharing his own experiences that mirrored yours. The more you talked, the more Jay couldn’t help but notice the way your eyes would light up when you found that you shared the same thoughts or tastes. It was like two puzzle pieces fitting perfectly together. Jay was a mirror image of you—until the conversation turned to ice cream.
“Mint chocolate tastes like toothpaste,” Jay deadpanned, making you laugh.
“Does not. That’s like saying matcha tastes like grass,” you shot back, rolling your eyes playfully.
“No, it doesn’t! I’d rather eat grass than have toothpaste for dessert,” he replied, his tone teasing, a grin tugging at his lips.
Your jaw dropped in exaggerated disbelief as you crossed your arms over your chest. “Oh, so now you’re a grass-eating expert? Should I grab you a handful from outside?”
Jay let out a laugh, the sound full and genuine, echoing through the quiet shop. “Hey, don’t twist my words! All I’m saying is, grass might be the superior option here.”
“You’re impossible.” You shook your head, though you couldn’t stop the grin tugging at your lips. It was hard to stay fake-mad at him when he looked so effortlessly charming, his silver hair falling into his eyes as he leaned back casually against the counter.
“Impossible but right,” he shot back, that dimple on his left cheek peeking out as he smirked at you. “You’re really defending mint chocolate like your life depends on it, huh?”
“Because it’s amazing and you have no taste,” you retorted, pretending to look insulted. “I feel bad for you. You’ll never know true joy.”
Jay clutched at his heart dramatically, wincing as if you’d just stabbed him. “That hurt, y/n. Truly. I think I need Veronica to comfort me now.”
You couldn’t hold back a laugh as you watched him make his way to the stool where his guitar sat. He grabbed her gently—like she was something fragile—before slinging her across his lap. “Fine, go cry to your guitar,” you teased. “She probably agrees with me anyway.”
“Oh, she definitely doesn’t,” Jay argued, already strumming a playful tune. “Veronica has class.”
You rolled your eyes, but your chest felt light, warmth spreading through you. Moments like these—full of laughter, teasing, and easy conversation—made you forget about everything else. Your classes, your homesickness, the weight of your parents’ expectations… none of it mattered when you were here, talking to Jay. It scared you how much you looked forward to these moments.
Unbeknownst to you, Jay felt the same way. The first few times you visited, he thought it was just a coincidence—that you were probably there for the records. But now… now, he knew better. Every time the bell above the door chimed, his head would snap up, hoping it was you.
You had become his favorite part of the day.
As he played soft, absent-minded chords on Veronica, his eyes flickered toward you. You were leaning against the counter, flipping through a box of vinyls, your expression relaxed and content. For a moment, Jay just watched you, his fingers faltering slightly on the strings.
“Hey, y/n,” he called out, drawing your attention.
You looked up, curious. “Yeah?”
He hesitated for a second, the words on the tip of his tongue. Something about how much he appreciated you coming here, how he felt like the days were brighter when you were around. But instead, he defaulted to teasing, a grin tugging at his lips.
“Promise me something.”
“What?” you asked, raising a brow.
“When I’m right about mint chocolate being trash, you’ll admit it publicly. Maybe we’ll record it and everything. Sound fair?”
You groaned, tossing your head back. “You’re impossible. Truly.”
He chuckled softly, the sound mixing with the hum of his guitar. “But I’m right.”
And for a while, you both sat in that moment—filled with music, banter, and the quiet comfort of knowing you weren’t alone.
Neither of you dared to admit it, but this routine you’d fallen into? It felt dangerously close to something more. But you couldnt shake that uneasy feeling when you looked at jay. He seemed like he was conflicted between telling you something.
As you perched on the familiar stool, your gaze drifted to Jay, who stood at the counter wrapping up a vinyl for a customer. His small, focused smile tugged at something deep inside you. The soft melody of Mac Ayres' Easy played in the background, and you found yourself humming along, lost in the rhythm.
You were so engrossed in the music and your thoughts that you didn’t notice Jay walking toward you until he was standing right in front of you. Startled, you jumped, nearly toppling off the stool.
Jay’s reflexes were quick. His hand shot out to grab your arm, the other steadying you by your waist. “Careful there. Someone must be deep in their feels, huh?” he teased with a grin, his laugh soft and warm.
The contact sent a jolt through you, like a spark lighting your nerves. His touch was firm but gentle, his proximity overwhelming. The scent of his cologne—a mix of cedar and wood—wrapped around you, intoxicating and grounding all at once. Your face burned as you tilted your head to meet his gaze.
“Yeah, it’s hard not to when the curator has such good taste,” you whispered, your voice quiet in the closeness between you. You felt yourself soften under his touch, curious to see how he’d respond.
Jay’s heart stuttered as he looked down at you. Your words carried more weight than they seemed, and something about the way you said them made his chest tighten. He cleared his throat, the heat rising to his cheeks as he tried to keep his composure. His hands lingered a fraction longer than necessary before he let go, his reluctance almost palpable.
“Well,” he murmured, his voice low, “you’re right, considering you picked this one with me.” His eyes held yours, glinting with something unspoken—something you dared to hope might be fondness.
You felt your heart flutter at his words, the shared memory softening the ache you’d tried so hard to bury. For a moment, it was just you and Jay, suspended in the quiet hum of the record shop, with the melody weaving around you like a thread tying you together.
“I know how to play this on the guitar. Wanna listen?” Jay asked, already moving toward Veronica without waiting for your reply.
You nodded, your eyes following his every movement. The way his forearm flexed as he picked up the guitar and adjusted it in his lap, his fingers effortlessly finding the chords—it was mesmerizing. The first familiar notes of Easy filled the shop, his playing smooth and precise, as if the guitar had been made just for him.
Halfway through the song, you couldn’t hold back your curiosity any longer. “Why haven’t I seen anyone else play this guitar?” you asked, breaking the gentle spell of the melody. “I mean, I know the rest of the guitars are free for trial and use, but no one ever touches Veronica.”
Jay chuckled softly, his fingers continuing to dance over the strings. The sound was warm and unhurried, perfectly complementing his low, quiet response. “Let’s just say I don’t like other people touching what’s mine.”
The possessiveness in his tone caught you off guard, sending a shiver down your spine. His words hung in the air, deliberate and weighted with something unspoken. When he tilted his head to look at you, his dark eyes lingering, you couldn’t help but wonder—did he mean the guitar, or was there more to his statement?
Jay's words hung in the air, the weight of them sending a spark of electricity through you. You blinked, momentarily stunned, unsure how to respond. His fingers never faltered on the strings, the melody of the song weaving around the quiet tension that had settled between you.
"Yours?" you repeated, your voice soft but questioning.
Jay smirked faintly, his eyes still on you, an unreadable emotion swirling in their depths. "Veronica," he clarified, though the slight upturn of his lips hinted that he knew exactly what his words had done. "She’s special to me. I guess I’m a little protective."
You nodded slowly, trying to ignore the way your heart raced in your chest. "I get it," you murmured. "She’s beautiful. Sounds even better when you play her."
Jay’s smirk softened into a genuine smile, his fingers continuing to strum as he looked back down at the guitar. "Thanks. But I think she just likes the company," he said, his tone light, though there was something unspoken beneath his words.
The melody shifted, and he began playing something softer, more intimate. You watched him, mesmerized by the way his hands moved effortlessly across the strings, the music flowing from him like a second language.
"You know," he began, his voice low, "there’s something about playing for someone who actually listens. Makes it... feel different." He glanced up at you, his gaze steady and vulnerable. "You always listen."
Your breath hitched, and you felt your cheeks heat up. "Of course I listen," you replied quietly. "You’re... talented. And music—it says a lot about a person. About what they feel, even when they don’t say it."
Jay’s fingers stilled for a moment, and he looked at you as if seeing you in a new light. "That’s true," he said softly. "Music has a way of saying things words can’t."
For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence filled only by the faint hum of the shop’s ambiance and the distant buzz of conversation. Jay’s gaze lingered on you, as if he were trying to decipher a melody only he could hear.
Then, with a soft chuckle, he resumed playing. "Guess I’ll have to keep playing for you, then," he said, his tone playful but his eyes betraying a hint of something deeper.
You smiled, your heart swelling despite yourself. "Guess you will," you whispered, wondering if Jay realized just how much his music—and his presence—meant to you.
That day, you and Jay exchanged numbers, texting each other occasionally to share songs from different artists. Things were going surprisingly well—so well that it stirred an uneasy feeling in your chest. How is this going so smoothly?
There was never a shortage of topics to talk about with Jay. One evening, you were in the shop again. Jay sat on the stool, absentmindedly strumming chords on Veronica, while you animatedly recounted your two-day camping trip to snag Bailey Zimmerman’s Religiously record.
Jay listened attentively, his warm eyes fixed on you, and that damn smile—the one that made your heart race every single time—resting on his face.
“You should come see my record collection sometime,” you said, your words bubbling with excitement. “It’ll blow your mind. I’ll even let you borrow some if you’re nice enough.”
Jay chuckled softly, his voice dropping slightly. “Yeah? Haven’t I been nice enough to you already?”
The air shifted. His words carried more weight than his playful tone suggested.
“Yeah, you’re really nice to me,” you mumbled, suddenly feeling self-conscious as you looked down at your shoes, your cheeks growing warm.
Jay leaned forward slightly, his voice softer now. “You know what? I’d love to—”
The chime of the shop’s door interrupted him. Startled, you turned to see who it was, only to meet the gaze of a striking blonde woman standing in the doorway.
“Seongie, are you done packing up?” she called cheerfully as she stepped inside.
She wore a denim dress, her blonde hair cascading down her back, paired with knee-high boots. There was an undeniable air of elegance about her—a confidence and beauty that made your stomach churn.
Seongie? The name echoed in your head. You’d never heard anyone call him that. Who is she?
You glanced back at Jay, your eyes wide with confusion. But he was already looking at her, his face lighting up with an expression you’d never seen before—soft, adoring, and unreserved.
“Hey, pretty,” Jay greeted, setting Veronica down and standing up to embrace her.
Your heart dropped into your stomach as you watched them. The warmth of the shop suddenly felt suffocating.
When they finally pulled apart, Jay turned to you, though his gaze never really left her. “Y/N, meet my girlfriend, Giselle. Giselle, this is Y/N.”
Girlfriend? The word hit you like a punch to the chest. Your mind spiraled, replaying every interaction with him, every shared moment. Of course, he had a girlfriend. How could someone like him not have a girlfriend?
“Hi, Y/N. Nice to meet you,” Giselle said politely, though her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. She studied you, her gaze curious, as if trying to figure out your connection to Jay.
You forced a smile, willing your voice to sound steady. “Hi. Nice to meet you, too.” But the strain in your tone betrayed you, and you cringed inwardly at how obvious it sounded.
Giselle’s attention shifted back to Jay, who began explaining how the two of you met. Halfway through his story, you blurted out, “I should go. It was really nice to meet you, Giselle. I can see why Jay would fall for you.”
You smiled, but the sadness in your eyes was unmistakable. If Giselle noticed, she didn’t show it, happily bidding you goodbye as she rested her head on Jay’s shoulder.
But Jay noticed. He saw the way your usual spark had dimmed, the way your gaze flickered with hurt when it shifted from him to Giselle. A pang of guilt tugged at his chest, but he quickly pushed it aside, chalking it up to excitement at seeing his girlfriend.
“Y/N—wait,” Jay called out as he watched you gather your things, already halfway to the door.
“Bye, Jay,” you whispered, your voice soft but resolute.
Jay frowned, the ache in his chest growing as he watched you leave. There was no see you tomorrow or see you again soon—just bye.
He exhaled deeply, his chest tightening as he stared at the closed door, your figure growing smaller in the distance.
The shop felt colder after you left, the faint jingle of the door chime lingering in the air. Jay’s eyes stayed fixed on the spot where you’d stood moments before, his jaw tightening slightly. He barely registered Giselle’s hand sliding into his, her cheerful voice breaking through the sudden heaviness in his chest.
“Who is she?” Giselle asked, her tone light, but the underlying curiosity was unmistakable.
Jay blinked, forcing himself to refocus. “She’s a regular,” he said casually, rubbing the back of his neck. “She’s really into music, so we hit it off talking about records.”
Giselle raised an eyebrow, her perfectly manicured nails tapping against the counter. “You seem close,” she said, her words measured. “She looked… comfortable here.”
Jay hesitated, sensing where this was headed. “She’s just a friend,” he said quickly, though the words felt strangely hollow as they left his mouth.
Giselle didn’t reply immediately, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly as if she were trying to read between the lines. “Hmm. A friend, huh?” She let the word hang in the air before shrugging, a smile spreading across her lips. “Well, as long as that’s all she is.”
But Jay felt the weight of her gaze, even as she moved to pick up a vinyl from the shelf. For a moment, he considered telling her more—explaining the connection you two had, how effortless it felt—but something stopped him. Maybe it was the way Giselle leaned into him, her confidence unwavering, or maybe it was the faint trace of guilt bubbling in his chest.
As they left the shop together, Giselle chatting animatedly about her plans for the evening, Jay found his thoughts drifting back to you. He replayed the look on your face when he introduced Giselle—the flicker of pain you tried so hard to mask. It had been subtle, but it was there, and it gnawed at him.
You, on the other hand, were trying to pull yourself together as you walked briskly down the dimly lit street. The ache in your chest was sharp, but you scolded yourself for feeling it. How could you have let yourself get so carried away?
Of course, Jay had a girlfriend—someone stunning, confident, and poised, someone who seemed perfect for him. What had you been thinking? That you, with your hesitant smiles and awkward jokes, could be someone special to him?
Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and for a moment, you thought it might be Jay. But it wasn’t—it was a message from Sunghoon, your classmate about an upcoming project. Letting out a shaky breath, you tucked your phone away and kept walking, refusing to let yourself look back toward the shop.
Later that night, Jay sat on the edge of his bed, his phone in his hand. Giselle had fallen asleep beside him, her even breathing filling the quiet room. He stared at the screen, debating whether to text you.
A part of him knew he shouldn’t. He had no reason to—no justification for reaching out beyond the nagging feeling in his chest that he couldn’t shake. But as his thumb hovered over your name in his contacts, he stopped himself.
Instead, he locked his phone and leaned back, staring up at the ceiling. Giselle shifted slightly beside him, murmuring something in her sleep, and he turned his head to look at her. She was beautiful, kind, and everything he thought he wanted.
So why couldn’t he stop thinking about the way your voice had trembled when you said goodbye?
And why, when he closed his eyes, was it your face that lingered in his mind?
It had been a month since you stopped visiting Jay at the record shop. Neither of you had reached out—no texts, no calls, no accidental run-ins. On the surface, everything seemed normal. You fell back into your routine: hanging out with your friends, spinning the same familiar vinyl records, letting music fill the void. But deep down, you knew it wasn’t the same.
How could it be, when your thoughts kept drifting back to him? The silver-haired boy with warm, expressive eyes. The boy whose dimple only appeared on his left cheek when he smiled. The boy with that small, barely noticeable mole between his brows, leaning slightly to the left.
You couldn't forget him, no matter how hard you tried.
Many nights, your thumb hovered over his contact, debating whether to message him. Maybe you could send a song—something by Mac Miller, perhaps—and pretend it didn’t mean anything. But each time, you stopped yourself.
He had Giselle. He was happy with her. And who were you to ruin that?
Sighing, you locked your phone and let it fall onto your bed, as the second verse of Daniel Caesar’s Valentina played softly in the background. The lyrics seemed to mock your longing, your hesitation, your inability to move on.
Across town, Jay was struggling with his own thoughts.
Every shift at the shop felt emptier without you. Every time the door chimed, his head snapped up, hoping—praying—to see the girl with the mole on her neck, the one that matched his birthmark, just on the opposite side.
You.
The girl who had the same music taste as him. The girl who loved mint chocolate despite his protests.
Jay knew it was wrong—so wrong—to be thinking of you while Giselle stood by his side. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop.
He remembered the way your eyes lit up when he handed you that vinyl, the soft smile you gave him as you watched him play the guitar. Those moments played on a loop in his mind, haunting him with what could’ve been.
His shoulders slumped every time the door opened, only to reveal someone else. You were nowhere to be found. And the shop—once his sanctuary—felt hollow without you there.
It was strange, this emptiness that had taken root in his chest. You weren’t just a customer or a casual friend. You had seen him. The real him. Not the charming, silver-haired boy everyone else knew, but the boy who could talk for hours about Oasis, who played guitar on quiet afternoons, who laughed at stupid arguments about ice cream flavors.
You had understood him in a way that no one else did—not even Giselle.
And now, you were gone.
Days turned into weeks, and Jay started to believe he’d never see you again. Maybe you hated him. Maybe you were angry that he hadn’t told you about Giselle sooner.
Or maybe he had imagined the connection altogether.
But the memory of the sadness in your eyes that day—your voice strained when you said goodbye—stuck with him. It made him wonder. Did you like me?
The thought filled him with equal parts hope and guilt.
Jay sighed, dragging a hand through his silver hair as he stared out the shop window. The world outside seemed as distant as the one he shared with you, the one that had slipped away before he even realized how much it mattered.
He wanted to see you again.
But did you feel the same?
The air in the record shop felt heavier these days. Jay had tried to distract himself, pouring his energy into curating the shelves, perfecting his playlists, and helping customers find hidden gems. But none of it filled the quiet void you’d left behind.
One evening, as the shop neared closing, Jay sat on the wooden stool where he used to play Veronica for you. He strummed absentmindedly, his fingers faltering on the chords. “Beside You” by Keshi came to mind, and he played the opening notes, but the melody felt hollow without you there to listen.
“Why does it feel like I lost something I never even had?” he muttered to himself, letting his hands fall into his lap.
You thought you’d have to get over Jay in your own time, quietly and painfully. But apparently, your friends had other plans.
“Y/N, we’re going to Park Me Up,” Jake announced after class, his voice brimming with excitement as you zipped up your bag.
You froze for a moment, trying to think of an excuse. “Oh, I, uh… I need to go somewhere. To buy cupcakes,” you blurted out, wincing at how unconvincing it sounded even to you.
Jake gave you a deadpan look before his lips curved into a playful pout, his puppy-dog eyes locking onto yours.
“Aw, come on, Y/N! Ning Ning needs our help picking out a gift for Beomgyu. His bandmates decided on a guitar for his birthday, and she’s clueless. It’ll be fun! Don’t be a party pooper,” he said, clasping your hand for dramatic effect.
Before you could protest further, Ning Ning and Sunoo appeared out of nowhere, already hyped about the plan. They didn’t even give you a chance to escape—Jake grabbed one arm, Sunoo grabbed the other, and Ning Ning cheerfully led the way.
“Guys, I really don’t think I should—”
“Too late, Y/N!” Ning Ning sang, ignoring your protests.
You sighed in defeat, letting them drag you toward the destination. Park Me Up wasn’t just any guitar shop—it was Jay’s guitar shop.
The thought sent a wave of dread through you.
The shop was just as you remembered it: cozy, filled with the scent of polished wood and vinyl records. The familiar bell jingled as the four of you stepped inside.
You scanned the counter immediately, your heart pounding, but Jay wasn’t there. Instead, his uncle, Peter, stood behind the register, greeting your group with a warm smile.
“Welcome in, folks! Let me know if you need any help. Oh, hey, Y/N, haven’t seen you around lately. Jay’s been chewing my ear off asking if you’ve stopped by. Pretty sure his neck must be sore from how much he cranes it looking for you,” Peter teased.
Jay? He’s been looking for me? Why? A flush crept up your cheeks, your heart racing even faster at the thought of Jay being nearby.
Your friends glanced at you in confusion as you hovered awkwardly near the entrance, trying to stay out of sight.
“Jay?” Danielle tilted her head curiously, while Sunoo snickered.
“Jay’s my nephew,” Peter explained, leaning casually against the counter. “He and Y/N here hit it off pretty well. She was here so often, I was even considering paying her for helping out around the shop.”
His warm eyes sparkled with amusement, so reminiscent of Jay’s, but his words left you flustered.
Jake’s brows shot up as he smirked at you, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Ooh, hit it off pretty well, huh?”
“It’s—it’s not like that,” you stammered, voice dropping to a whisper. “Jay has a girlfriend. We just had a lot in common, that’s all.” The word girlfriend cut like a knife, the ache in your chest returning.
Your friends didn’t press further, shrugging it off as they scattered toward the guitar section. But Jake lingered, his brow furrowing as he noticed you rooted in place. Without hesitation, he grabbed your hand, tugging lightly.
“Y/N, come on!” Jake urged. “You’re supposed to be helping!”
Just then, the sound of shuffling from the storage room caught everyone’s attention. A moment later, Jay stumbled out, brushing dust from his silver hair.
“Uncle, did you just mention Y/N? Is she here? I swear i heard her voice,” he asked, his voice quick and eager as his eyes darted around the shop—until they landed on you.
The world seemed to slow as your eyes met his, and your heart leapt into your throat. How was it possible for him to look even better, with the roots of his hair starting to grow out, giving him an effortless charm? You swallowed hard, almost breaking eye contact, afraid Jay might see through the carefully constructed facade you’d built to convince everyone—yourself included—that you were fine. Just like he always did.
His gaze shifted downward to where Jake’s hand still held yours, and you swore you saw something flicker in his expression. His brows furrowed slightly, but was it disappointment? Anger? Defeat? You couldn’t tell, but the uncertainty sent a shiver down your spine.
“Hi! You must be Jay. I’m Y/N’s boyfriend, Jake,” Jake said smoothly, his voice cutting through the silence, his blatant lie delivered with practiced ease. He was testing a theory, watching Jay’s reaction like a scientist observing an experiment.
Jay’s brow furrowed deeply, the tight-lipped smile he’d worn vanishing in an instant. In its place was a frown, his expression growing colder and more guarded by the second. His gaze shifted from you, but not before you noticed the way his jaw clenched and his shoulders tensed. Was he... jealous? Did this really affect him? The questions raced through your mind as you struggled to process the shift in his demeanor.
Your jaw dropped in shock as you turned to Jake, practically yanking your hand out of his grasp. “He’s not my boyfriend!” you exclaimed, frantically waving your hands in front of your chest as if to dispel the misunderstanding. “I don’t have a boyfriend. He’s just joking! Don’t take it seriously...” Your voice trailed off into an awkward blabber, cheeks flushed as you tried to explain yourself to Jay.
Jake stood to the side, grinning knowingly as he watched the scene unfold. His eyes flicked to Jay, and his suspicions were confirmed when he saw the subtle change in Jay’s posture. The moment you clarified that Jake was joking, Jay’s shoulders eased, and the tension in his jaw loosened, though his guarded expression lingered.
Jake’s grin widened. “Just wanted to see something,” he muttered under his breath, barely loud enough for you to hear, as he stuffed his hands into his pockets.
“Not funny, man,” Jay said, his tone attempting lightness but still laced with a hint of irritation. He glanced briefly at Jake before turning his gaze back to you, his eyes searching yours.
Jake shrugged, clearly unbothered. “Just testing the waters,” he said nonchalantly, giving you a wink. “I’ll leave you two to… whatever this is.” With that, he turned and walked back toward Ning Ning and Sunoo, leaving you alone with Jay.
Jay stepped forward, his movements hesitant, as if testing the waters. “Y/N,” he called softly, his tone laced with a mix of relief and uncertainty.
You stopped, turning to face him. “Hi, Jay,” you replied, trying to keep your voice even despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you.
“It’s been a while,” he said, his hands fidgeting in his pockets. “I… I didn’t think I’d see you again.”
You swallowed hard, your eyes briefly meeting his before darting away. “Yeah, I’ve been… busy.”
Jay took another step closer, the corners of his lips tugging into a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Busy, huh? Too busy to even text?”
His words hit you like a wave, leaving you momentarily speechless. “I thought…” you began hesitantly, your voice barely above a whisper, “I thought it’d be better if I stayed away. You seemed happy. With Giselle.”
Jay’s expression faltered, and he dropped his gaze to the floor, exhaling a slow, measured breath. “Yeah, I’m happy with Giselle,” he admitted quietly, his voice tinged with something you couldn’t quite place. “But that didn’t mean you had to stay away. We’re friends, right?” His tone softened as if he hoped that saying it gently might lessen the weight of the words.
Hearing him confirm his happiness with Giselle was like a dagger to your heart. You nodded numbly, biting your lip in a futile attempt to keep your emotions in check. But your eyes betrayed you, filled with the sadness you desperately tried to hide. It was a cruel reminder that the growing feelings you had for Jay would always be unrequited.
Life seemed to take away the one good thing you had just when you started to believe in it again. You knew better than to come between Jay and Giselle. You knew better than to linger in his life, where your feelings would only deepen, making it harder to pull away. But how could you not fall for him? How could you resist the silver-haired boy who made your heart race, who smelled like cedar and coffee, whose hair fell into his face as he played your favorite songs with that endearing focus?
A bitter laugh escaped your lips, masking the sound of your heart breaking. “I know I might not mean anything to you,” you began, voice trembling, “and you might not even care, but I don’t think I can stay friends with you, Jay.” Your words cracked as tears threatened to spill. “Because I know I’d just keep falling for you. And you have Giselle. I’m glad you’re happy with her. I don’t want to ruin the good thing you have in your life.”
Your voice dropped to a whisper, but the quiver betrayed the storm raging inside you. Jay’s eyes snapped to yours, his face softening as he registered the raw emotion you couldn’t conceal. You were on the brink of breaking, and both of you knew it.
Jay’s eyes widened as your words sank in, the color draining from his face. He took a small step closer, his hand twitching like he wanted to reach for you but stopped himself. “Y/N,” he started, his voice cracking. “It’s not… it’s not like that.”
You forced a smile, though your trembling lips betrayed the façade. “It’s okay, Jay,” you said softly, your voice laced with heartbreak. “You don’t have to explain. You don’t owe me anything.”
Jay opened his mouth, but no words came out. His heart ached at the sight of you—so vulnerable, so heartbreakingly honest. He felt like the worst kind of person, watching you lay your emotions bare before him, offering your heart only for him to crush it. And the worst part? He knew you anticipated his response. You always understood him too well, the uncanny compatibility between you two making it all the harder for him to let this moment pass.
But before he could say anything, you spoke again, your voice trembling with raw emotion. “I think…” you began, your tone fragile, “I think it’s best for us to just leave this as it is, Jay.”
Your words came out as a plea, each one pulling at his chest. You blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears from falling, but the strain in your voice betrayed how close you were to breaking. Sniffling quickly, you kept your gaze fixed on the ground, refusing to look at him. You couldn’t bear to see the pity—or worse, indifference—in his eyes.
“I wish you well, Jay,” you choked out, barely managing to suppress a sob as you turned to leave, each step away from him feeling like it might break you entirely.
Jay froze, the words lodging in his throat as he watched you crumble before him. He wanted to reach out, to pull you into his arms and tell you that you were wrong—that he didn’t want to leave things like this. But your trembling voice, laced with heartbreak, stopped him in his tracks.
“Y/N…” he whispered, his voice laden with desperation, as if searching for the right words to hold you there. His mind raced, trying to form an explanation, an excuse—anything to stop you from walking away.
But you shook your head quickly, a silent plea for him not to make this even harder. “Don’t, Jay. Please,” you interrupted, your voice trembling, your resolve wavering as the words hung in the air.
He froze, his throat tightening at the finality in your tone.
Jay’s chest tightened, the weight of your words suffocating him. “You weren’t wrong,” he said, his voice breaking. “You weren’t wrong about us.”
You offered him a sad smile, one that didn’t reach your eyes. “But it doesn’t matter, does it?”
He stepped closer, his presence warm yet hesitant, his hand hovering just inches from yours. For a moment, it seemed like he might take your hand, his fingers twitching with an unspoken yearning. But he hesitated, his hand lingering in the air, uncertain and desperate. It was as if he wasn’t sure if he had the right to hold onto you, to ask you to stay.
“It matters to me,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper, but the weight of his words carried straight to your heart. His gaze burned into yours, raw and unguarded, his emotions laid bare. “You matter to me, but not in the way you want it to be. ”
The vulnerability in his tone, the way his voice cracked slightly at the end, made your breath catch. You wanted to believe him, wanted to trust those words, but the pain in your chest reminded you of the boundaries that couldn’t be crossed. Still, his proximity, the sincerity in his eyes, made it harder to walk away.
Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you let yourself believe him. But the hurt was too deep, the scars too fresh. You knew you mattered, just not the way you wanted it to be. You took a step back, creating a physical barrier between you that mirrored the emotional one you were building.
“Bye, Jay,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you turned and walked away.
Jay stood there, rooted to the spot, watching you leave for the second time. He wanted to chase after you, to tell you everything he couldn’t put into words, but his feet refused to move. He could only watch as the person who had come to mean so much to him disappeared from his life, leaving him with a hollow ache in his chest and the echoes of what could have been.
For both of you, the goodbye felt final, even though your hearts whispered that it didn’t have to be.
Your friends exchanged bewildered glances, their confusion palpable, but you didn’t turn back. You couldn’t. With each step, the weight of your feelings threatened to crush you, but you forced yourself forward, knowing it was the only way to protect your heart.
“Hey, Jay,” Jake started cautiously, his voice steady but low. “What just happened?”
Jay’s gaze remained fixed on the door you’d just walked through, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. He couldn’t bring himself to answer. How could he possibly explain what had just transpired?
Sunoo sighed, placing a hand on Jake’s shoulder. “I think we should give them space,” he said softly, gesturing toward the door. “Let’s go check on Y/N.”
The group nodded in agreement, leaving Jay standing there, his silver hair catching the dim light of the shop. His uncle’s voice broke the silence.
“Jay,” Peter said gently, coming out from behind the counter. “You care about her, don’t you?”
Jay’s shoulders slumped, and he let out a shaky breath. “Yeah,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “I do.”
Peter gave him a sympathetic look, his brow furrowing in thought. “Then maybe it’s time you figure out what you really want. Don’t let her slip away without a fight, Jay. Not if she means this much to you.”
Jay nodded, but his heart felt heavy. He didn’t know if he deserved to fight for you after everything he’d put you through. But he did know one thing—losing you felt like losing a part of himself.
As the shop grew quiet again, Jay sat down on the stool, his hand instinctively reaching for Veronica. He strummed a few chords aimlessly, his mind replaying every moment he’d shared with you. The sound of the door chime echoed in the background, but this time, it wasn’t you walking through. It was emptiness, a reminder of what he had just lost.
Months had slipped by, yet Jay was still a ghost in your thoughts. You told yourself you were over him—that time and distance had healed the wound. But every now and then, a memory of his warm smile or the shared laughter over an inside joke would surface, and you couldn’t help but chuckle softly to yourself. It was fleeting, but the ache it brought lingered.
You convinced yourself you’d moved on. After all, you no longer visited the shop, no longer hovered over his contact late at night. But distance, as they say, often makes the heart grow fonder. Deep down, you knew your feelings for Jay weren’t just a fleeting crush or infatuation. They were deeper, more real than you wanted to admit.
On days when the ache felt unbearable, you found yourself wandering near the record shop. You told yourself it was coincidence, that it wasn’t intentional. But each time, your gaze would be drawn to the glass panel, and there he was. Sometimes he’d sit at the counter, lost in thought, his lips forming a soft pout. Other times, he’d strum Veronica on the stool where you used to sit, or move around the shop, chatting animatedly with customers.
And sometimes, just sometimes, it felt like he sensed your presence. His head would turn suddenly, eyes scanning the street. Your heart would leap, and you’d duck behind a pillar, pulse racing as if caught in a forbidden act. Surely, he hadn’t seen you. Right?
Eventually, you stopped. Sunoo, ever the voice of reason, had convinced you that spying from a distance wouldn’t help you move on. You listened. Or at least, you tried.
But Jay had noticed. Every time you came, he saw you—your wide eyes peeking around the corner, the way you hurriedly hid whenever he looked up. He felt a pull to step outside, to call your name, to close the distance between you. Yet, he held back. He told himself it wasn’t fair—to you, to Giselle, to the delicate balance of their lives. He was happy with Giselle—or at least, that’s what he repeated to himself.
So why did thoughts of you creep in when he wasn’t paying attention? Why did he catch himself searching for your laugh in the shop’s quiet, or remembering the way your eyes lit up when he played your favorite song? Could it be that he was falling for you too?
When he realized you’d stopped coming entirely, the tightening in his chest was unbearable. Did you finally move on? Had you met someone who played the guitar better than he could? Someone who shared your love for mint chocolate? The idea was suffocating, but he couldn’t shake it.
And for the first time in a long while, Jay wasn’t sure if he’d made the right choice.
One evening, Jay and Giselle went out for dinner, a rare chance to unwind amidst their busy schedules. After their meal, Giselle beamed, her eyes lighting up as she suggested, “Let’s grab some ice cream. There’s a new shop just down the block.”
Jay nodded, following her lead as they strolled into the cozy shop, the warm lights and cheerful atmosphere inviting them in. The server greeted them with a bright smile. “Welcome! Would you like to try our new flavors?” they asked enthusiastically, motioning to the chalkboard menu listing options in colorful script.
As Giselle scanned the choices, debating between strawberry basil and caramel pretzel, Jay’s eyes drifted over the menu absentmindedly. When the server turned to him, he surprised himself by blurting out, “I’ll have a cup of mint chocolate, please.”
Giselle’s head snapped toward him, a puzzled expression on her face. “Wait, mint chocolate? Don’t you hate that flavor?” she asked, her voice tinged with amusement and disbelief.
Jay froze for a moment, caught off guard by his own decision. The truth was, he hadn’t been thinking about himself when he ordered. He’d been thinking of you. Memories of your playful arguments over ice cream flooded his mind—how you’d stubbornly defended mint chocolate while accusing him of having the palate of a goat for liking matcha. He could almost hear your voice now, teasing and full of life, and the thought made his lips curl into a faint smile.
“Oh, yeah,” he said, trying to play it off casually. “Y/N used to love mint chocolate. She always said it didn’t taste like toothpaste. One time, I told her matcha was better, and she told me to eat grass instead.”
Giselle laughed softly, though there was a flicker of something in her eyes—curiosity, perhaps, or even unease. “Sounds like you and Y/N had a lot of… interesting debates.”
“Yeah,” Jay admitted, his voice quieter now. He didn’t elaborate, but as he took the first bite of the ice cream, a wave of nostalgia hit him. It was bittersweet, much like the flavor he once swore he disliked.
“I haven’t seen her around the shop lately. Did something happen between the two of you?” Giselle asked, her voice light but her gaze sharp, studying Jay’s reaction.
Jay’s brows furrowed as flashes of memory ran through his mind—your tearful goodbye, the way you’d pulled away from him, the words you’d whispered, so final and resolute. His chest tightened, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. He hated how those memories stirred feelings he couldn’t quite name, feelings that made him want to clutch onto them selfishly, as if preserving them for himself would somehow keep you closer.
“Yeah, uh… we’re not really friends anymore,” Jay said lightly, though his tone betrayed him. The seriousness in his voice, the subtle edge, told Giselle everything she needed to know. “But I don’t really want to talk about it.”
Giselle raised an eyebrow, intrigued but cautious. Jay wasn’t one to dwell on relationships that ended; he always kept his circle small, rarely letting people in. Usually, it was just his longtime friends—Heeseung and Sunghoon—who truly knew him. But you? You had broken through those walls in a matter of weeks. How had you done it?
Even Giselle, who had been dating Jay for months, had taken her time to chip away at his guarded exterior. Yet, with you, it seemed effortless. It gnawed at her—a quiet curiosity mixed with something she didn’t want to name.
Giselle studied Jay’s face, noticing the slight tension in his jaw and the way his grip on the ice cream cup tightened. It was rare for Jay to get so guarded, especially with her. She had always admired his calm and collected demeanor, but this was different. This was about you.
“You don’t want to talk about it?” Giselle repeated softly, her voice gentle but probing. “Jay, you know you can tell me anything, right?”
Jay exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair as if trying to shake off the weight of the conversation. He met Giselle’s gaze, his expression unreadable. “It’s not about not trusting you,” he said carefully. “It’s just... complicated.”
Giselle nodded slowly, though the curiosity in her eyes remained. “Complicated how?” she pressed, her tone still soft but laced with concern.
Jay hesitated, torn between the desire to keep the memories of you to himself and the need to reassure Giselle. “She... meant a lot to me,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, almost as if he were confessing something. “We connected in a way that felt different, you know? But it’s over now. She walked away, and I let her.”
Giselle’s brows furrowed at his words. “Different how?” she asked, the question slipping out before she could stop herself.
Jay paused, searching for the right words. “She just... got me,” he said finally. “In a way that didn’t feel forced or complicated. It was easy. She understood things about me that I didn’t even have to explain.”
Giselle’s heart sank at his honesty. She couldn’t ignore the pang of jealousy that crept into her chest, but she pushed it aside. “And what about us?” she asked, her voice tinged with vulnerability. “Do you feel that way with me?”
Jay’s eyes widened slightly, guilt flashing across his face. “Of course I do,” he said quickly, reaching out to take her hand. “Giselle, you’re amazing. You’re my girlfriend. This isn’t about comparing anyone to you. It’s just... a chapter in my life that I wasn’t expecting, and now it’s closed.”
But even as the words left his lips, Jay couldn’t ignore the hollow ache in his chest. Because while he might have closed that chapter, it didn’t mean he had stopped rereading it in his mind. And the more he tried to convince himself otherwise, the more your name lingered on the tip of his tongue.
You sat in the library with your project partner, Sunghoon, discussing how to split the workload. You realized that, despite his quiet demeanor, Sunghoon was actually pretty funny. He often described himself as a "loud introvert," and the more you got to know him, the more you agreed with that description. He gradually integrated into your friend group, quickly becoming close with everyone.
As school grew busier, you started pushing aside the feelings you had for Jay and focused on your studies. With Sunghoon, you managed to score a high grade on your assignment, leading you both to agree to partner up for every project from then on.
To celebrate the end of the school term, your friend group decided to take a trip to Rome, Italy. Everyone was excited to experience the breathtaking architecture. But, as always, life had other plans.
On your second day in Rome, Sunghoon suggested visiting a vinyl shop he had read about online. It wasn’t surprising; you’d come to learn that Sunghoon shared your love for music and had an appreciation for vintage records.
“I need to grab a gift for a friend,” Sunghoon explained as you both waited for a taxi. “He’s really into vinyls. Works in his uncle’s guitar shop.”
The mention of a guitar shop made you freeze for a moment, Jay’s face flashing in your mind. But you quickly pushed the thought aside. Rome was a big city; there was no way this could be connected.It had been a while since you'd last seen him or even spoken to him, and you couldn't help but wonder how he was doing. But the memory of him telling you that he couldn’t see you as more than a friend still lingered, and it made your heart ache even after all this time.
You were standing outside a café, scanning for a place to sit. You noticed a table with a guy sitting alone, an empty seat across from him. Something about the broad shoulders felt familiar. For a moment, you thought it was Jay, but then you remembered that Jay had silver hair, not black, and you doubted he would be in Rome. But you were completely wrong.
Summoning your courage, you walked over to the boy, tapping him lightly on the shoulder. You tried to sound cheerful, “Hi, I’m so sorry to bother you, but would it be possible to share the table? I’m just waiting for someone.” You flashed your best smile, attempting to appear friendly.
But as soon as he looked up, your breath caught. Sitting at the table with a book in hand was Jay, Jongseong. You gasped in shock, and his surprised gaze met yours.
His gaze shifted from confusion to surprise, and then to something you couldn't quite place—longing? Relief? Happiness?
"Y/N?" Jay's voice was filled with disbelief. "Is that you?"
"Jay? What are you doing here?" you responded, equally shocked. How was he in Rome?
You took a moment to take in his appearance—his silver hair was now dyed back to black, and he wore a pair of black-framed glasses perched on his nose. His outfit was simple: a black shirt, blue jeans, and Rick Owens sneakers, yet somehow he looked even more handsome. You couldn’t help but notice the other female customers in the café subtly glancing in his direction, likely drawn to his effortless charm.
Suddenly, the feelings you had buried for so long began to resurface—faster and more intensely than you had expected. You missed him. You missed him more than you cared to admit. You hadn’t expected to see Jay again, but here he was, in front of you, and everything about this moment felt overwhelming.
When Jay felt a tap on his shoulder, he was expecting it to be Giselle, ready to tell him it was time to go. To be honest, the only reason he was even in Rome was for the vinyls and guitar shops—he knew there would be rare finds, given how long some of the shops had been around.
But he didn’t expect to see you.
You were standing in front of him, wearing a sundress in his favorite color—green. The way you smiled brightly at him, only to pause when you realized it was him, made his chest tighten. You looked so beautiful in that dress, the fabric flowing all the way down to your ankles, making you look like something straight out of a fairy tale. Jay’s heart began to race as he took you in, unable to tear his eyes away.
His mind raced, thoughts colliding with the reality of the situation. How was it possible that after all this time, here you were—standing in front of him in Rome? The emotions he had carefully tucked away began to surface again, sharper than before. The feelings he had suppressed, buried in the quiet moments when he let himself think of you, were now resurfacing with an intensity he wasn’t prepared for.
“I–you–how?” Jay’s voice came out as a strained whisper, his words caught in his throat. He missed you, he truly did. It wasn’t right to feel this way when he had Giselle, but he couldn’t help it. Not when you were standing there, wearing his favorite color, looking so beautiful with the sunlight catching your hair. His heart ached, watching the way your smile faltered after you recognized him.
“I’m here with Giselle,” he said, his voice low, almost as if trying to explain himself, “She wanted to go on a trip.”
The way your eyes dimmed at the mention of her made a sharp pain hit his chest. He didn’t know why it hurt so much, but that wasn’t important right now. He needed to talk to you. He needed to know how you were doing, how school had been, how you were holding up. He wanted to tell you that he had changed his mind about mint chocolate, that he now secretly liked it, and how he couldn’t stop listening to White Ferrari by Frank Ocean because the lyrics reminded him of you. He needed to know if you had moved on from him, if you were okay.
Before he could say any of this, you spoke. “I think I should go. Sorry to bother you. Have a good trip, Jay.” Your voice was soft, and Jay could hear the pain you tried to hide, the yearning that lingered beneath your words. How much you missed talking to him, how much you missed watching him play Veronica.
“Wait—Y/N.” His hand shot out, grabbing your wrist gently but firmly, holding you in place as he stood up.
“Please don’t run away from me again,” Jay’s voice was softer now, but it trembled with vulnerability. The desperation in his words made his chest ache, and the way he looked at you, his gaze so open and raw, left no room for doubt—he needed you to stay.
He knew deep down it was wrong. So, so wrong. But in that moment, all he could think about was how much he longed to see you again.
“Jay? What are you—who’s that? Oh, y/n?” Giselle’s voice sliced through the tension as she neared the two of you, her footsteps faltering slightly as she took in the scene.
Giselle's voice rang out sharply, pulling Jay’s attention toward her. Her eyes, once confident, now flickered with something unsettling. As she got closer, the look of confusion and concern on her face grew. She took in the sight of Jay still holding onto your wrist, the gentle way his fingers were wrapped around you. His gaze was soft, almost pleading, something that made her heart twist. She could feel the weight of the shift in the air, the subtle change in Jay's demeanor, and she knew something was different.
The sight of him looking at you like that, so vulnerable and open, made her stomach churn with unease. Giselle had always been sure of Jay—sure of the way he looked at her, sure of the space he made for her in his life. But now, it felt like something was slipping out of her grasp, something she couldn’t quite define.
She knew about Jay’s past relationships—how his exes would beg him to take them back, and yet he never budged. Jay had always been laidback, never one to push things or chase anyone. He’d let things happen naturally, even if that meant moving on when things got tough. But this? This was different.
As she studied you, her gaze softened just a little, but it was enough for you to feel the shift. She could tell by the way you carried yourself that there was more to your relationship with Jay than just a casual meeting. There was history in the way he held your wrist, in the way his eyes searched yours for something he seemed to have lost. It wasn’t hard to see it now. Giselle had been with Jay for long enough to know the subtleties of his body language, but she had never seen him like this. Never seen him plead with anyone.
The jealousy bubbled up in her chest, rising faster than she could control it. She hated feeling like this, but she couldn’t stop it. The effortless way you had him wrapped around your finger was something she could never seem to achieve. No matter how hard she tried to get close to him, how much effort she put into learning about his music, his favorite bands, his quirks—Jay had always been a little distant, a little elusive, like he was holding something back.
But with you? It was different. The connection was palpable, even if it was unspoken. You had always been able to reach him in ways she couldn’t, and the sight of him wanting to talk to you, to stay with you, made her feel invisible.
As Giselle’s gaze turned bitter, she watched Jay’s grip on your wrist loosen, his hand dropping back to his side, defeated. She saw you step back, but the look in your eyes—mirroring Jay’s longing—was all the confirmation she needed. You weren’t just infatuated with her boyfriend; you were in love with him. You were in love with Jay.
“Y/n, what a coincidence!”
Giselle’s smile was tight, laced with an air of false cheerfulness as she greeted you. The subtle intertwining of her fingers with Jay’s was intentional— a clear display of ownership, a silent message that she wasn’t going anywhere. She wanted you to see it, wanted you to feel the distance between you and Jay, wanted you to know that no matter the history, the connection, or the lingering feelings that might still exist, Jay was hers. And she would make sure you understood that.
Jay’s fingers curled against hers, a motion so small, yet filled with so much meaning. Giselle wasn’t sure if it was a silent reassurance for her or a subtle signal to her, telling her not to overstep, not to push too far. He wasn’t looking at her as much as he was looking at you—his gaze was distant, almost apologetic, as though there was a silent conversation going on between the three of you without words. But Giselle was determined to play her part, to hold onto what she thought was hers.
She watched you, her eyes narrowing just slightly, noticing the way your gaze flickered to their intertwined hands, the way your lips pressed into a thin line as the sadness in your eyes became undeniable. For a moment, Giselle felt a flicker of guilt. She could see it in your eyes—the resignation, the hurt, the unspoken words. But that flicker was fleeting, quickly buried beneath a layer of pride and possessiveness.
She watched your expression falter, the realization hitting that the distance between you and Jay was no longer something you could ignore. The subtle disappointment in your face was enough for her to feel a cruel satisfaction. It was like the pieces of a puzzle falling into place. Giselle wasn’t stupid—she could read the way Jay’s body language changed when he was around you, the way his eyes lingered a little too long, the way his tone softened. She could feel it now—the same undercurrent of something that had once been hers. And she wasn’t about to let that slip away without a fight.
The quiet ache in her chest was still there, but it was drowned out by the heat of her jealousy, her insecurity, her need to win. And if that meant pushing you to your breaking point, to make you feel as small and as invisible as possible, then she was willing to do whatever it took. You weren’t going to be the one to take him away. Not after all the effort she had put in to build her life with him.
As Giselle turned her head to kiss Jay on the lips, she heard the small gasp escape from you, and in that moment, she knew she had won.
Your heart shattered, watching Giselle kiss Jay. You wished it could be you, to hold his hand, to feel his arms around you, to feel his lips against yours. But that would never happen, not when all Jay saw you as was a friend. You wanted to turn and walk away, but the ache in your chest kept you rooted to the ground, helplessly watching the scene before you.
Silently, you prayed for someone—anyone—to pull you from the situation. It felt like the universe answered your silent plea when Sunghoon arrived.
“Y/n, let’s go—Jay?” Sunghoon’s voice called out, confusion creeping into his tone as he noticed Jay standing in front of you.
“Hoon?” Jay responded, just as confused, wondering how you and Sunghoon knew each other.
“What are you doing here?” Both of them asked in unison.
“I’m here with Giselle for a holiday. You? How’d you know Y/n?” Jay cleared his throat, trying to keep things lighthearted, though his voice held an edge of protectiveness that Giselle quickly noticed.
Sunghoon glanced back and forth between you and Jay before offering Giselle a polite smile in greeting.
“You guys know each other? Y/n, that’s the friend I told you about who works at a guitar shop. That’s Jay,” Sunghoon explained, oblivious to the tension in the air.
Ah, so they were friends.
Before anyone could say another word, Giselle cut through the silence, her voice a little too bright. “Oh my god, are you guys dating? Jay, look at their matching bracelet! It’s so cute. Should we get one too?” She gestured toward the friendship bracelet that Jungwon had made your whole friend group get, but since the others weren’t around, it made it look like you and Sunghoon were a couple.
Jay’s breath hitched. Were you dating Sunghoon now? How did he not know about this? Sunghoon had never mentioned anything about you when they hung out. Why were you alone with him?
You wanted to explain, to deny the accusation, because it felt wrong to even entertain the thought of being with someone other than Jay. But as your eyes locked with Giselle’s, she gave you a look that made it clear what she was trying to do. You could feel the guilt washing over you. No matter how hard you tried to distance yourself from Jay, the pull was still there.
So, with a heavy heart, you nodded and whispered, “Yeah, we’ve been dating for a while now. We’re in the same class, and we got closer.” You rushed the words out, hoping they sounded convincing.
Sunghoon looked down at you, his brow furrowing in confusion, but he knew better than to expose your lie in front of everyone now. He played along, extending his hand to hold yours.
“Sorry I didn’t tell you guys sooner. I just wanted to find the right time to properly introduce her,” Sunghoon lied smoothly, glancing at Jay.
The weight of the lie you just told settled heavily in your chest. Every word felt like a betrayal, not just to Jay, but to yourself. You could see the confusion flicker in his eyes, the way his lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to ask more, to understand, but he couldn’t. Instead, he swallowed whatever questions he had, and his gaze drifted to Sunghoon, his brows furrowed.
Giselle, on the other hand, was smiling too brightly. She was the one who had won, the one who had forced your hand. Her expression was smug, satisfied as she watched the situation unfold. When you nodded and agreed with her assumption, it was like she had claimed her victory. The small, almost imperceptible twitch in Jay's expression wasn’t enough to make her question her dominance. Instead, she looked between the two of you, a thin veil of sweetness hiding the bitterness she felt beneath the surface.
Jay couldn’t look at you directly. He turned to Sunghoon, his voice casual, yet there was a hint of uncertainty in it. "I didn’t know you two were... close," he said, the words like they were heavier than they sounded.
You couldn’t help but feel like you were suffocating. Every part of you wanted to reach out to Jay, to tell him the truth, to explain that you never intended for this to happen. That it wasn’t about Sunghoon at all. But Giselle’s gaze held you firmly in place, daring you to break, daring you to unravel.
Sunghoon’s hand on yours felt oddly comforting, but it couldn’t block out the ache in your chest. He squeezed your hand, the pressure there like a silent reassurance. He had always been protective, always there for you when you needed someone. But even in this moment, his presence felt like it wasn’t enough to shield you from the heaviness of the lie. The guilt gnawed at you, the burden of keeping up this façade pulling you further away from the truth.
"Right," Jay said finally, his voice quieter now. He gave a small nod, but it was clear that something was weighing on him. His gaze flickered back to you briefly, but you couldn’t meet his eyes. You couldn’t bear to.
Giselle leaned in a little closer to Jay, her fingers tightening around his. "Well, if you’re all set, I think we should go, baby. We have a lot of things to do, don’t we?" Her tone was overly sweet, but it cut through the tension like a knife. She was reminding everyone who Jay was with, reminding you where you stood.
You nodded, your heart sinking deeper into your chest. "Yeah, you should go. I should go too," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.
Sunghoon gave you a gentle nudge, his thumb brushing against the back of your hand, and you took a step away, trying to escape the suffocating atmosphere. But as you turned away, you caught one last glimpse of Jay—his face unreadable, his body tense. He was still holding onto something, still fighting the pull between you and Giselle, between what was real and what had to be hidden.
You turned your back before your emotions could get the best of you, walking away with Sunghoon by your side. But even as you put distance between yourself and that moment, you knew the lie you had told wouldn’t just fade. It was going to hang over you, a shadow you wouldn’t be able to outrun. And Jay? Well, you had no idea where things stood with him anymore. But you knew one thing for sure—everything had just become so much more complicated.
“What was that?” Sunghoon asked softly once you were out of sight of the couple.
“I didn’t know you two were friends,” you mumbled, your gaze fixed on the ground. “I met Jay when I visited the guitar shop he worked at. We got along really well, and I...” You hesitated, your voice faltering. Sunghoon’s reassuring nod gave you the courage to continue.
“And I fell for him,” you admitted quietly. “But then I found out he was dating Giselle. I tried to move on, Sunghoon. I really did. But now, seeing him here in Rome... it’s like all those feelings are coming back, stronger than before.”
Your voice dropped to a near-whisper, trembling with emotion. “I think I’m in love with him, Sunghoon. But I can’t have him, and it hurts so much.”
Sunghoon stopped walking, his expression serious as he took in your words. He didn't interrupt, letting you speak your heart, and when you finished, there was a long pause. You could feel the weight of the silence between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.
He let out a quiet sigh before looking at you with understanding eyes, his tone soft. “I had no idea you felt that way about Jay,” he said slowly. “I could tell something was off, but I didn’t know it went this deep. You don’t have to carry this burden alone, Y/n.”
You looked up at him, the vulnerability in your eyes showing the rawness of your feelings. "I feel so stupid," you admitted, "for letting myself fall for someone who’s already with someone else. And now I don’t know what to do. I can’t just… turn it off. But seeing him with Giselle, holding her hand, it was like a slap in the face."
Sunghoon’s expression softened, his voice firm and caring. “You’re not stupid, Y/n. Love isn’t something you can control. You can’t just turn it off because it’s inconvenient. And I know it hurts to see him with her, but you have to remember that his relationship with Giselle doesn’t define you. You deserve someone who sees you the way you see them, someone who won’t make you feel like second place.”
You closed your eyes, the weight of his words settling in. You wanted so badly to be that person for Jay, but the reality of the situation made it feel impossible.
“I know,” you whispered. “But it doesn’t change how I feel.”
“I get it,” Sunghoon replied quietly. “And you’re allowed to feel that way. But you have to focus on healing, Y/n. If you keep holding onto something that isn’t yours, it’s only going to hurt more in the long run.” He paused, watching you carefully. “You deserve someone who’s going to choose you, not someone who’s already made their choice.”
Your chest tightened as Sunghoon’s words echoed in your mind. You nodded slowly, but a part of you still longed for something that seemed so far out of reach.
“I don’t know if I can move on from him, Sunghoon,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper.
Sunghoon gently squeezed your hand. “You don’t have to right away. But take it one day at a time. You’ll get through this, Y/n. And no matter what happens, I’m here for you, okay?”
You gave him a small, grateful smile, the first one in what felt like a long time. "Thank you, Hoon. I really needed to hear that."
Jay couldn’t focus on anything Giselle was saying because his thoughts were consumed by you: the way you looked in that green dress, the brightness of your smile. He had always thought he was good at making decisions, at choosing the right path. But sitting alone in a café in Rome, he realized that when it came to you, he didn’t even know what the right thing was anymore.
“Are you falling for her?” Giselle’s voice broke through his thoughts, sharp and accusing. She stared at him, waiting for an answer.
Usually, Jay would have shaken his head defensively, pouring extra effort into reassuring her—just as he always did when she questioned his feelings. But this time, he couldn’t.
When Jay started dating Giselle, he thought she was the one. He pictured himself ten years down the road, marrying her, starting a family. That vision had seemed so clear and solid. But now, everything was blurry. Everything was you.
His head hung low in shame and guilt. He couldn’t bring himself to meet her gaze or deny it. He didn’t want to lie to himself anymore, and he didn’t want to lie to Giselle either.
The sight of Jay’s silence, his lowered head, shattered something inside Giselle. She felt her heart plummet, realizing what he wasn’t saying aloud—that he was starting to fall for someone else, and it was happening right in front of her eyes.
Hurt and sadness flickered across her face as she looked at him. She wasn’t ready to let him go. Not yet. She had loved him dearly and used to feel so secure in their relationship. She never had to question his loyalty or love. Jay had always been kind, warm, respectful—a man anyone would admire. He had been her perfect match.
But then you came into his life, and everything changed. You unraveled their relationship without even trying. She could see it in the way Jay’s face lit up when he talked about you, in the private jokes he’d share that only the two of you could understand. Even when they were out together, he would somehow bring you up.
There were nights when insecurity gnawed at her, especially when she noticed how his shoulders slumped as if he were expecting someone else to walk through the door—someone who wasn’t her. She knew, deep down, that he was looking for you.
Frustration and anger consumed her, and eventually, those feelings overwhelmed her guilt. She sought solace elsewhere. Intak had been a distraction, a way to fill the void left by Jay’s drifting attention. Initially, she felt guilty about going out with Intak while still with Jay, but over time, she convinced herself it wasn’t her fault. It was your fault.
You had turned Jay’s head. You had ruined what they had. And now, standing there, she could feel her anger boiling over, fueled by the bitterness of knowing she had been losing him long before this moment.
“Giselle…” he finally murmured, his voice low and uneven. He looked up, and the heartbreak in her eyes made his chest tighten painfully. “I—I don’t know what to say.”
Jay felt the weight of Giselle’s silence as it stretched between them, the tension thick and suffocating. He could feel her gaze boring into him, searching for answers he wasn’t ready to give. He didn’t have the courage to look at her, his shame tethering him to the ground, keeping his eyes fixed on the polished table in front of him.
The truth was messy, tangled in emotions he didn’t want to acknowledge. He knew it wasn’t fair to Giselle, and he hated himself for it. She didn’t deserve this—not the doubt, not the hesitation, not the betrayal that lingered unspoken between them.
Giselle let out a shaky breath, her hands clenched into fists on her lap. “Do you even realize what you’ve done to me, Jay? Do you know how hard I’ve fought for us, for this relationship, while you—” Her voice broke again, and she took a moment to steady herself. “While you were busy thinking about her?”
Jay flinched at the accusation, the raw truth cutting deeper than he expected. He wanted to deny it, to tell her that it wasn’t like that, but he couldn’t. He didn’t have the right to argue when he knew she was right.
Her words hung heavy in the air, and Jay felt like he couldn’t breathe. He wanted to say something, anything, to make it better, but every word felt hollow, insincere. He could only sit there, his mind racing with thoughts of you, of Giselle, of the tangled mess he had created.
“Do you love her?” Giselle asked suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Jay froze, the question hitting him like a punch to the gut. Love? The word echoed in his mind, stirring up feelings he wasn’t ready to confront. He didn’t know how to answer. All he knew was that when he thought of you, his heart felt full and aching all at once, and the thought of losing you—of never seeing you again—made it hard to breathe.
“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice cracking. “But I think…I think I could.”
Giselle’s breath hitched, and she stood abruptly, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. “I can’t do this right now,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. She grabbed her bag and stormed out of the café, leaving Jay sitting there, alone and drowning in the weight of his guilt and confusion.
For the first time, he wondered if he’d already lost everything he thought he wanted—and if you were the one he’d been searching for all along.
Jay watched Giselle’s silhouette disappear into the distance, a heavy weight settling in his chest. He should feel relief, should focus on being the boyfriend she deserved—but his thoughts were tangled, knotted around you. If he truly loved Giselle, there wouldn’t be room for this ache, this restless longing that clawed at him every time he thought of you.
You weren’t his. You never were. And now you were with Sunghoon, his best friend. It should have been easy to let you go, to convince himself that you belonged to someone else. But watching you walk away again felt like someone had ripped a piece of him out, leaving behind a hollow that pulsed with a dull, relentless pain.
Jay told himself he needed to stop. Stop complicating things, stop dreaming of something that could never be. Maybe you were always destined to be a "what if," a fleeting possibility that would haunt him for years to come. He owed it to Giselle to be better, to finally close the door on these feelings. But before he could force himself to let go, he needed to see you one last time.
Later that night, just as you were trying to convince yourself to sleep, your phone buzzed. The screen lit up with a message from Jay.
“Hey, can we talk?”
Your chest tightened. You stared at the words, your hands trembling as you debated your response. Another text followed almost immediately:
“Please.”
The desperation in that one word hit you like a punch to the gut. You wanted to say no, to protect yourself, to end this painful cycle before it broke you completely. But what right did you have to talk to Jay? You weren’t friends, weren’t lovers. You were barely even anything at all anymore.
Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, the tears already falling as you typed:
“Jay, we can’t. This isn’t right. Please don’t make this harder than it already is. We’re both happy. Maybe it’s time to put an end to this.”
You stared at the message, knowing how false it was. Happy? How could you call this agony happiness? The boy you loved was in someone else’s arms, and yet here you were, lying to him and to yourself.
The moment you hit send, your phone rang. Jay’s name flashed on the screen, and your heart lurched violently. You answered, your voice barely above a whisper.
“Hello?”
“Y/N, I’m— I’m downstairs. At your hotel,” Jay’s voice came through, rushed and uneven, like he was struggling to breathe. “I asked Sunghoon. I’m sorry, but I need to see you. Just for a while… please?”
His words were frantic, pleading. You could hear the urgency, the raw edge to his voice that shattered what little resolve you had left.
“I’ll wait until you come down,” he added, his voice softer now, almost broken, before hanging up.
You gripped your phone tightly, your heart a storm of emotions you couldn’t contain. You hated him for doing this to you, for making it impossible to stay away. But more than that, you hated yourself for never being able to say no to him. Jay was your weakness, your undoing. He was the boy who had stolen your heart so effortlessly and left you with nothing but pain in its place.
Before you knew it, your feet carried you out the door, down the elevator, and into the night. Each step felt heavier than the last, the weight of your emotions pressing down on you.
When you reached the street, you saw him immediately. He was leaning against the wall, head hung low, his hands nervously twisting the jacket he held. As you approached, trying to keep your steps quiet, his head snapped up, his eyes finding yours instantly.
For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence between you felt deafening, loaded with everything you couldn’t say. The world around you faded, the hum of the city dimming as the two of you stood there, suspended in time.
The soft glow of the streetlamp illuminated his face, highlighting the tension in his jaw and the storm in his eyes. He looked at you like you were both the answer to every question and the reason for every problem. And you hated how much you wanted to fall apart right there, in front of him, just to feel his arms catch you.
But you knew better. This was a game you could never win, and yet here you were, ready to lose all over again.
Before you could even process what was happening, Jay closed the distance between you, his hands cradling your face with a mix of urgency and tenderness before his lips crashed onto yours. The kiss was electric, chaotic, and raw, filled with emotions that neither of you had been able to express in words. His lips moved fervently against yours, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, and you felt the weight of his desperation, longing, guilt, and frustration pouring into every movement.
You froze at first, your mind screaming at you to push him away. This was wrong—so, so wrong. He had a girlfriend. You had Sunghoon. This moment wasn’t supposed to exist, and yet, as his warmth enveloped you, you found yourself unable to resist.
You weren’t supposed to enjoy the way his lips felt on yours, the way they ignited a fire in you that you’d tried so hard to extinguish. You weren’t supposed to let your hands drift up to clutch at his shirt, pulling him closer as though he was the only thing keeping you grounded. But you did.
The world around you disappeared, and all that remained was Jay—his touch, his breath, his presence overwhelming you entirely. Your lips moved against his with the same frantic energy, your emotions spilling out in a silent confession. You kissed him back with everything you had, trying to imprint this moment into your memory because deep down, you knew it wouldn’t last.
This wasn’t yours to keep. This wasn’t yours at all. And yet, for this fleeting moment, you allowed yourself to believe that it could be. Tonight, you let yourself forget the consequences, the heartbreak waiting just beyond the glow of the streetlamp. Tonight, you gave yourself to Jay completely, even as your heart fractured under the weight of knowing that this would only ever be a stolen moment.
The world seemed to blur around you as Jay’s lips moved against yours. The cold night air faded, replaced by the heat of the moment, the intensity of emotions you both tried so hard to suppress. His hands were warm, firm yet tender as they cradled your face, grounding you in the whirlwind of feelings you had been running from for so long.
But the weight of reality loomed over you like a shadow, tugging at your conscience even as your heart begged you to stay in this fleeting moment. The kiss was a storm—fierce, unrelenting, and consuming—but you knew storms always passed, leaving devastation in their wake.
“Jay,” you gasped, breaking away, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Your hands, still clutching his shirt, trembled as you looked up at him. His eyes were dark, searching yours for answers, for reassurance, for anything to justify what had just happened.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, but his hands didn’t leave your face. “I just... I couldn’t hold back anymore.”
You shook your head, tears welling up as the weight of what had just happened crashed over you. “This isn’t right, Jay. We can’t do this,” you said, your voice cracking. “You have Giselle. And me—I’m with Sunghoon.” The words felt hollow, but you forced them out, hoping to remind both of you of the lines you’d just crossed.
His jaw tightened at the mention of Sunghoon, and he looked away briefly, as if the thought pained him. “I know,” he said quietly. “I know this is wrong. But I couldn’t stop myself. I needed to see you.” he admitted, his voice laced with regret. “But I can’t stop thinking about you, Y/N. I’ve tried—I’ve tried so hard, but no matter what, you’re always there.”
His confession tore through you, the raw vulnerability in his words igniting something deep within your chest, but the guilt that followed was sharper. “Jay, you don’t understand what this will do to everyone,” you said, wiping at your tears. “This isn’t just about us. Giselle loves you. Sunghoon trusts me. We can’t destroy them for something that might not even last.”
Jay’s jaw tightened, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “Do you really believe that? That this—” he gestured between the two of you, his voice trembling—“is nothing?”
You hesitated, your heart battling your mind, the truth caught in the space between. “I don’t know,” you finally admitted, your voice barely audible. “I don’t know what this is, Jay. But I know it can’t happen like this.”
Jay took a shaky step back, his face falling as the reality of your words sank in. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling deeply as if trying to compose himself. “You’re right,” he said quietly, his tone resigned. “This isn’t fair to anyone.”
You nodded, your chest aching as you watched the boy you loved wrestle with the same emotions tearing you apart. “We need to let this go,” you said, even though the words felt like knives in your throat. “For them. For us.”
Jay looked at you one last time, his eyes filled with sorrow and longing, before nodding slowly. “Goodbye, Y/N,” he said, his voice heavy with finality.
You watched as he turned and walked away, the distance between you growing with each step. You were hoping that he didnt look back, because he would have seen your legs give out, as you sobbed silently, your tears falling freely under the soft glow of the streetlamp.
Tonight was supposed to be the night you let him go, but as you stood there, your heart breaking, you realized letting go was far harder than you could have imagined.
But then, Jay did look back.
He froze when his eyes found you, crouched on the pavement with your head buried in your hands, your shoulders trembling. You weren’t looking at him, but the sight alone cut through him like a blade. He could feel your pain, raw and unrestrained, and it twisted in his chest until he couldn’t breathe.
He knew what this was. He felt it too—the tension, the connection, the pull. But if he felt it so deeply, why couldn’t he take the leap? Why couldn’t he let go of Giselle if every fiber of his being was drawn to you?
Jay knew the answer. Deep down, he was a coward. Afraid of the consequences, afraid of shattering the life he’d built, even if it meant suffocating the part of him that longed for you. He hid behind Giselle, behind the facade of comfort, because facing the truth meant risking everything.
But now, watching you fall apart, something inside him snapped. It was as if an unseen force dragged him back to you. His feet moved before his mind caught up, and suddenly, he was kneeling beside you, his voice trembling as he whispered, “What am I going to do with you?”
His expression was strained, filled with anguish as he reached for you, pulling you into his arms. The warmth of his embrace broke the dam you’d been holding back.
“I missed you so much, Jay,” you sobbed, your voice trembling and raw. “I’m sorry. I know I messed everything up. I complicated things for you, but I’m in love with you. I know you’re not mine to have, but it hurts so much, Jay. I love you, but I know you’re happy with someone else, and I—”
Your words dissolved into breathless cries as Jay tightened his hold on you. His arms wrapped around you as if trying to shield you from the very pain he’d caused, his own silent tears slipping into the night as he held you close. For that moment, the rest of the world didn’t exist—only the two of you, broken and vulnerable under the glow of the streetlamp.
Jay’s heart clenched at your words, each syllable carving deeper into the conflict he carried. He didn’t speak immediately, just held you tighter, his own emotions threatening to spill over as he buried his face in your hair. Your sobs echoed through the quiet street, raw and unfiltered, and for the first time in a long while, he felt utterly powerless.
“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice trembling as he pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your tear-streaked face. His thumb brushed against your cheek, wiping away a stray tear as his own eyes glistened. “I’ve missed you too. More than I should, more than I ever wanted to. You have no idea how many nights I’ve stayed awake thinking about you, wondering what it would be like if things were...different.”
The pain in his voice was undeniable, and it only made your tears fall harder. “Then why, Jay?” you whispered, your voice breaking as you searched his face. “Why can’t we—why can’t you—”
“Because I’m scared,” he admitted, the words spilling out before he could stop them. His voice cracked under the weight of his confession, and he looked away, ashamed. “I’m scared of ruining everything. Of hurting Giselle. Of losing you if this doesn’t work. I don’t know how to let go of her, and I don’t know how to let go of you.”
His honesty only made the ache in your chest grow. You reached out, placing a trembling hand on his cheek, guiding his gaze back to you. “Jay, you can’t have it both ways,” you said softly, your voice heavy with both love and pain. “You have to choose. And if you can’t, then maybe...maybe I have to make the choice for you.”
“No,” Jay said quickly, his hand flying to cover yours. “Don’t. Don’t leave me, Y/N. Please.” The desperation in his tone made your heart twist, but you knew deep down that something had to give.
“I can’t keep holding on to someone who was never mine to begin with, Jay,” you whispered, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “You’re you, and I’m… me. Can’t you see? You’re talented, warm, kind, gentle—and I’m a mess. Giselle… she suits you. She’s beautiful, patient, everything I’m not. You two look perfect together.”
You paused, your breaths shaky as you tried to steady yourself, but the pain in your chest only grew heavier. “I’m so tired, Jay. I’m tired of the nights I lie awake, wishing I could be the one in your arms. I’m tired of being afraid of myself because I want so desperately to be the one you look at with that gentleness in your eyes. I want to be the one who makes you laugh, the girl who loves you with her whole heart.”
Your voice faltered, breaking into a strained whisper as tears streamed down your face. “But I can’t. I can’t be that girl, Jay. I’ll never be her.”
Your sobs softened into quiet sniffles, the silence between you thick and suffocating. You couldn’t bear to look at him, afraid of what you might see—pity, regret, or worse, nothing at all. All the words you’d kept locked inside were now laid bare, and yet, the ache in your chest only deepened, the weight of your unspoken love threatening to crush you.
Jay’s chest tightened with every word you spoke, each one laced with pain, longing, and a finality that made his heart feel like it was being crushed. He reached out for you instinctively, his hands trembling, but he stopped himself, letting them fall to his sides. He knew he had no right to comfort you—not when he was the source of your pain.
“Y/N…” he began, his voice hoarse and broken. “Don’t say that. Please, don’t say that about yourself.” His eyes glistened with unshed tears as he took a shaky step toward you, though the weight of your words kept him from getting too close. “You don’t see what I see, do you? You’re not a mess. You’re—” He swallowed hard, his voice cracking. “You’re everything, Y/N. Everything I didn’t even know I needed. And I hate myself for making you feel like you’re not enough because you are. You always were.”
Your lips trembled as you shook your head, stepping back. “Don’t do this, Jay. Don’t say these things when you know you can’t follow through. You’re with her, and I’m… I’m not a part of that world. I can’t keep pretending like there’s a place for me in your life when all I’m doing is hurting myself.”
He reached out again, his hand hovering near yours before pulling it back, defeated. “I don’t know what to do, Y/N,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m so lost. I thought I had everything figured out, but then you walked into my life, and now—now nothing makes sense. I don’t want to lose you, but I also don’t want to keep hurting you like this. I don’t know how to let go of you, Y/N. I don’t know how to stop wanting you.”
You bit your lip, forcing yourself to stay strong even as his words tore you apart. “You have to,” you said, your voice steady despite the tears streaming down your face. “For both of us. You have to let me go, Jay. Because I can’t keep living like this. I can’t keep loving someone who’s never going to be mine.”
The finality of your words hung heavy in the air, and Jay felt his knees go weak. He wanted to argue, to plead with you to stay, but deep down, he knew you were right. He had been selfish, holding onto you while refusing to make a choice. And now, it was too late.
“Okay,” he whispered, his voice cracking as tears rolled down his cheeks. “Okay, Y/N. If that’s what you need, I’ll—I’ll let you go. But just know that I…” He hesitated, the words caught in his throat. “I’m sorry. For everything. For not being brave enough to choose you. For hurting you. For loving you when I shouldn’t have.”
You nodded, your chest heaving as you tried to steady your breathing. “Goodbye, Jay,” you whispered, the words barely audible but heavy with meaning.
And this time, when you walked away, Jay didn’t follow. He stayed rooted to the spot, watching you disappear into the night, his heart shattered into pieces he wasn’t sure he could ever put back together.
Maybe in another life, maybe in another universe, he would have been the one to hold you close, his arms your safest place. He would have been the one to press soft kisses to your temple, nuzzling his nose against your neck as though the world outside didn’t exist. He would have been the one to wake beside you each morning, his fingers gently brushing through your hair, his gaze filled with the quiet adoration of someone who’d found their forever.
He would have carried you on his back when your legs gave out, laughing at your complaints but never letting go. He would have cooked your favorite meals, waiting for the sound of your keys turning in the door because coming home meant coming back to him. He would have been the one to stand at the end of the aisle, his heart racing as he watched you walk toward him in a gown that made you look like a dream.
He would have been the one you said “I do” to, your voice steady and full of promise. He would have been the one who vowed to hold you through the storms and the sunshine, in moments of joy and in those of despair. For better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health—he would have been the one to love and cherish you until your very last breath.
In another life, in another universe, he would have been the one. But here, in this tangled mess of reality, he could only dream of the love that could have been.
Maybe in another life, Jay thought, the universe would have been kinder to the both of you. In that life, there would be no Giselle, no tangled strings of guilt and confusion, no walls of "what ifs" and "too lates." In that life, he wouldn't have hesitated. He wouldn't have second-guessed every decision, every step closer to you.
He could imagine it so clearly, almost cruelly vivid in his mind. You, standing in the kitchen in the morning light, your laugh filling the air as he teased you about something silly. The way you’d rest your head on his shoulder during quiet moments, your presence a comfort he never knew he needed until it was gone.
He would have been the one to carry you when life got heavy, to wipe away your tears and kiss your worries away. He would have known, deep in his soul, that he didn’t just love you—he belonged with you.
But this wasn’t another life. This wasn’t another universe. And in this one, he had made his choices, and you had made yours. The weight of that reality pressed heavily on his chest, a bitter ache he knew he’d carry for a long time, maybe forever.
As he stood under the same stars that had once seemed to shine so brightly for him, Jay let the tears fall freely, his heart whispering a silent prayer to a world that didn’t exist.
Maybe in another life, you would have been his, and he would have been yours. But in this one, all he could do was love you from afar, a love that would remain untouched by time but buried deep within his heart.
ahhh thanks for reading up till here everyone! let me know if you liked it! this fic actually hit very close to home while i was writing because i subconsciously inserted my own feelings towards jay in this LOL😞
it’s been 6 months since i posted wonderwall T^T some people were asking if i’d do a part two for wonderwall (which i did draft) but i got side tracked and wrote other fics instead because it was actually quite hard for me to move out of the angsty ending between jay and yn… so progress on it is still very slow…
but i plan to start posting my other completed fics and drabbles here sometime soon!! the next fic i’m planning to post would be a sunghoon! childhood best friend trope ~ and i’m also working on a jay fic right now, and drafted a heeseung fic hehehehehe
feel free to let me know if there’s any trope you would like to see me write and i’ll try to work on it!! i hope i eventually get more active on here so i can open requests for drabbles 😭
i know i have a really small following but feel free to let me know if you guys have any questions or just wanna talk!! i’m always open to having moots 😆
okie that’s all~ thank you for reading and stay safe everyone :3
"You should try Park Me Up, " Jake suggested, his Australian accent stretching the words.
"fuck what up?" you asked, your voice unintentionally louder in confusion.
Jake stifled a laugh. "dude, Park Me Up. It's a guitar shop that sells vinyls, too. Heard the selection's pretty dope. Apparently, the owner's nephew curates it." He chuckled, rolling his eyes when he realized what you'd misheard. Danielle, sitting to your right, let out a quiet laugh at your expense.
pairing - guitar shop worker! jay x female reader
w.c - 22.4k
content: y/n is a reserved individual, who moves to seattle for university, where she meets a silver haired boy working in a guitar shop while looking for vinyls. ( mentions of members from other groups, or in enha)
warnings! jay is very very indecisive, mentions of cheating, kissing, heavy heavy angst, kissing, mutual pinning, slow burn. (lmk if i missed out anything...)
a/n: hello everyone ! i finally published my first full length fic after forever lol... It's christmas already and it should be a jolly fic but... im a sucker for angst... i hope you guys like it ! Happy holidays lovelies! Also thank you to my offline friend who proofread this for me, and thank you grammerly for correcting my grammers LOL.
You never expected yourself to fall for Jay. You really didn't. You never intended to be so completely enamored by the boy who worked at his uncle's guitar shop—the boy who always showed up in an oversized white shirt and gray sweats, hair falling messily over his forehead, yet somehow looking effortlessly perfect. The boy with silver hair that shimmered under the dim store lights as he strummed chords on a guitar he probably didn't plan to buy. But here you were, hopelessly in love with a boy who had a girlfriend.
Moving to Seattle had been a decision more practical than emotional, but it still hurt. You stood by the window of your tiny apartment, staring out at the city as it buzzed with energy, even on a quiet Wednesday night. The view was breathtaking—glittering skyscrapers against the dark sky, streets glowing with endless streams of headlights and neon signs. Yet, despite the beauty, there was an ache inside you. You missed home, the warmth of your family, and the familiarity of your old life.
Your parents hadn’t made the choice any easier. Both renowned architects, they had high hopes that you would follow in their footsteps. Seattle was where they had both studied, fallen in love, and started building their careers. To them, sending you here felt like a full-circle moment, a chance for you to experience what they had cherished so deeply. To you, it felt like being uprooted.
“You need this,” your mother had said, her voice softer than usual as she helped pack your bags. “A new city, new challenges—it’ll be good for you. Just promise me you’ll explore. Don’t hide away in your room with your vinyls all day.”
You’d reluctantly agreed, not wanting to disappoint her.
A few weeks had passed since school started, and to your surprise, things weren’t as bad as you’d feared. Your decision to major in architecture felt natural, like a familiar rhythm you’d always known. Growing up with two architects as parents meant you had a solid foundation, and the workload—while demanding—was manageable.
But school wasn’t the part that scared you. It was the loneliness you dreaded most. Your mom’s parting words echoed in your mind as you forced yourself to step out of your comfort zone, accepting an invitation from a friendly classmate named Beomgyu to grab lunch. That one small decision changed everything.
Beomgyu quickly became one of your closest friends, and through him, you met Danielle and Ning Ning, two of the most vibrant people you’d ever known. They, in turn, introduced you to their wider circle—Jake, Jungwon, and Sunoo. Jake and Jungwon were Twitch streamers, a detail you found both amusing and fascinating.
“Jake’s not even good at the games he streams,” Jungwon teased one afternoon as you all sat around a table at a cozy ice cream shop downtown. “He keeps dying and getting pity donations from girls who think he’s cute.”
Jake let out a dramatic whine, lips jutting into a pout as he folded his arms. “That’s not true! I’m good at some games.”
Danielle snorted, pointing her spoon at him. “You literally called Fall Guys a ‘competitive battle royale.’”
Jake turned to you for backup, his eyes wide and pleading. “You believe me, right?”
You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound bubbling out of you before you could stop it. Moments like these felt warm and grounding, like you were finally finding a place for yourself in this unfamiliar city
"Did you see? Daniel Caesar's new album just dropped," Jake whispered, leaning closer to you in class. His eyes flicked toward the front of the lecture hall, where the professor was mid-sentence.
"Never Enough, right? Yeah, I saw," you replied, keeping your voice low to avoid getting caught. "I think I'm gonna hit up a store to buy the vinyl. I need it for my collection."
"You should try Park Me Up," Jake suggested, his Australian accent stretching the words.
"fuck what up?" you asked, your voice unintentionally louder in confusion.
Jake stifled a laugh. "dude, Park Me Up. It’s a guitar shop that sells vinyls, too. Heard the selection’s pretty dope. Apparently, the owner’s nephew curates it." He chuckled, rolling his eyes when he realized what you'd misheard. Danielle, sitting to your right, let out a quiet laugh at your expense.
"Oh, right. Got it," you mumbled, quickly typing the shop's name into Google. It was only fifteen minutes from campus—definitely worth checking out.
Later that afternoon, curiosity got the better of you. With your classes done for the day and a spare hour on your hands, you decided to make the trip to Park Me Up. Jake's recommendation had piqued your interest, and you figured it wouldn't hurt to check out the shop.
The small bell above the door jingled softly as you pushed it open, stepping into the cozy, slightly dim space. The scent of polished wood and aged vinyl filled the air, and rows of guitars lined the walls, their polished surfaces gleaming under the warm light. In the corner, a shelf was dedicated to records, a modest but eclectic collection that immediately drew your attention.
You were flipping through the vinyls, scanning the neatly labeled dividers, when a voice startled you.
“Looking for something specific?”
You glanced up to find a boy standing behind the counter, his silver hair catching the light in a way that made it impossible not to stare for a second too long. He was wearing a slightly oversized white shirt over his grey sweats, the casual look somehow amplifying his presence rather than diminishing it. The silver haired boy was already looking at you curiously, albeit an amused smile on his face.
“Uh, yeah,” you managed, your voice almost catching. “I was looking for Daniel Caesar’s Never Enough. Heard you guys might have it.”
He smiled faintly, the kind of smile that felt effortlessly genuine. “Good choice. We just got a shipment in. Let me grab it for you.”
You watched as he moved to the back, his stride unhurried but purposeful. When he returned, he held the vinyl in his hands like it was something sacred, carefully placing it on the counter between you.
“Here you go,” he said, his voice soft. “This one’s already been pretty popular.”
“Thanks,” You hesitated before asking, “So, do you curate the collection here?”
He blinked in surprise before nodding. “Yeah, I do. How’d you know?”
“Word of mouth,” you said, shrugging lightly. “A friend recommended the shop. Said the vinyl selection’s great because of you.”
His smile widened slightly, and there was something in his expression that made your stomach flip. “Glad to hear it. I try to make it as diverse as possible. Let me know if there’s something you’re looking for, and I’ll see what I can do.”
You opened your mouth to say something, but the boy beat you to it. “What genre of music do you listen to?” he asked, his tone casual but curious.
You hesitated, feeling a little self-conscious. Some of your friends always teased you for having the music taste of a middle-aged woman. “Um, I’m not sure if you’d know them, but... Oasis? Red Jumpsuit Apparatus, The 1975—and, you know, the more basic ones like Frank Ocean, Tyler, Kendrick…” Your voice trailed off, and you missed the way the boy’s smile grew wider with every name you mentioned, his eyes lighting up with excitement.
“Oasis? No way. That’s my favorite band,” the silver-haired boy blurted, his enthusiasm catching you off guard. “Usually, there aren’t many people our age who listen to them. My friends always call me an old soul because of my taste in music. But finally—finally—I don’t have to be an old soul alone!”
He leaned back, grinning from ear to ear. “Honestly, I think I've met my match. I listen to almost every artist you just named. You might even be better at curating playlists than I am,” he chuckled, the sunlight streaming through the window catching on his silver hair and making his honey-tanned skin seem to glow.
Your cheeks flushed slightly at his enthusiasm, the way his eyes lit up as if he’d just stumbled upon some rare treasure. You hadn’t expected this reaction, let alone from someone who looked like they belonged on the cover of a magazine instead of behind the counter of a record shop.
“You're just saying that,” you said with a shy laugh, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I'm not that great at curating. I just... listen to what feels right, you know?”
The boy shook his head, his smile unwavering.“No, I mean it. Oasis is a bold choice, especially for someone who looks…” He trailed off, suddenly catching himself.
Your brow arched slightly. "Looks what?”
He cleared his throat, his confidence faltering for just a moment. “Looks like they'd be more into pop or something.”
You rolled your eyes, but there was no bite in your response.“Yeah, well, don't judge a book by its cover. Or a person by their playlist.”
His laugh was soft, the kind that made your chest tighten unexpectedly. “Fair enough.”
The conversation settled into a comfortable rhythm, the initial awkwardness melting away.
“Okay, I have to ask,” Jay said suddenly, leaning against the counter with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Favorite Oasis song?”
You hesitated, pretending to think it over even though you already knew the answer. “Don’t Look Back in Anger. Classic.”
He nodded approvingly, his grin widening. “Respect. Though, Live Forever might just take the top spot for me.”
You tilted your head, a playful challenge in your tone. “Strong choice. But I think Champagne Supernova could give it a run for its money.”
Jay’s laughter filled the shop, warm and unrestrained. “You’re good. I might just have to hire you as my personal music consultant.”
You were about to respond when the door chimed again, signaling another customer. Jay turned slightly to greet them, but his feet remained planted, standing in front of you with that wide, easy smile. To him, it felt like looking into a mirror—like seeing himself, just in the opposite gender.
You wanted to speak, to ask for his name, but the customer broke the moment, calling for his assistance.
“i've, um, got to go. See you around? ” he said softly, giving you one last glance. A dimple appeared on his left cheek as he smiled, the kind of smile that lingered, just like the glint of his silver hair catching the light. For a fleeting moment, it felt as though the world slowed down.
“See you,” you whispered to yourself, knowing he couldn’t hear you anymore. You carefully placed the vinyl back where you found it, a small smile tugging at your lips—because you knew you’d be coming back.
The soft click of the door echoed behind you, and the quiet hum of the city greeted you as you stepped onto the sidewalk. The night air was crisp, brushing against your cheeks, and for some reason, you couldn’t wipe the small smile off your face.
You couldn’t stop thinking about him. About his silver hair, the excitement in his voice when you mentioned Oasis, and the way he had lingered—just a little longer than he needed to—before walking away.
As you walked, your thoughts kept drifting back to the shop. To him. It was silly, really. You barely knew him. He was just a boy in a guitar shop. But something about him tugged at you in a way you couldn’t quite explain, as though a song you’d forgotten had started playing in the background of your life, soft and familiar.
Meanwhile, inside the shop, Jay was still standing behind the counter, his head tilted slightly as he watched you through the large front window. The orange glow from the streetlights traced the outline of your figure as you disappeared down the street, and for reasons he couldn’t quite articulate, his chest tightened.
It wasn’t often that someone caught his attention like that. Sure, plenty of customers passed through the shop, and Jay, ever the charmer, knew how to win people over with a smile or a bit of small talk. But this felt different. The way you spoke, the way you looked at him—like you really heard him, like you understood. It was rare. And it left a mark.
The sound of the other customer clearing their throat broke him from his trance. He turned back, hastily fixing his expression into something neutral, professional, but the remnants of his smile were still there.
“Sorry, what was that?” he asked, trying to focus.
The customer repeated their request, but even as Jay worked, his mind stayed far away, replaying your words, your quiet demeanor, the way your face flushed when you saw him smile at you. It was such a small thing, but it had stuck with him—how you’d looked so startled, yet soft and genuine all at once, like no one had smiled at you that way in a long time.
He wasn’t quite sure why it mattered. Or why it kept tugging at the corners of his thoughts, refusing to let go.
Jay’s hands moved on autopilot as he rang up the customer’s purchase, his mind somewhere else entirely. He thought about the way your voice had softened when you spoke about the bands you loved, how your fingers brushed the edge of the vinyl as though it were something precious. And the way you whispered—so quietly he wasn’t even sure he’d heard it—“see you.”
You’d meant it, hadn’t you? That you’d come back?
Jay blinked back into focus as the customer grabbed their bag and left, muttering a “thanks” on their way out. He let out a breath, leaning back against the counter, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck. This was ridiculous. It wasn't like he hadn't met interesting people before.
But you weren't like the others.
You didn't try to impress him, didn't try to force conversation. You were just... yourself. Unapologetically quiet, honest, and deeply sincere in that brief moment. It felt like a melody he couldn’t place but one he already knew by heart.
He ran a hand through his silver hair, glancing out the shop window to the darkened street. You were long gone now, but the image of you—standing there in the soft glow of the shop’s lights, lips quirking into that small, shy smile—lingered in his mind.
“Get it together, Jay,” he muttered to himself. But the truth was, he already knew he’d be watching for you. Waiting for that door to chime again.
And when it did, he wasn’t sure what would happen—he just knew he wanted to find out.
The soft jingle of the bell above the door announced your arrival. You stepped into the shop, your eyes darting instinctively toward the counter—only to find it empty.
He must not be working today, you thought, a tinge of disappointment settling in. Still, the familiar scent of old vinyl records mixed with the faint tang of guitar polish surrounded you, offering its usual comfort.
Then you heard it. Soft, deliberate strums of a guitar, playing the chords to “Beside You” by Keshi—one of your favorite songs. Curiosity tugged at you, and you ventured deeper into the store, following the sound.
The shop was quieter today. A few customers lounged in the listening area, sipping coffee or flipping through newspapers. As you rounded a shelf, your eyes landed on him.
The silver-haired boy sat perched on a wooden stool, a black-and-white guitar cradled in his lap—a Fender Stratocaster, you’d later learn, named Veronica.
You stood there, captivated. Every movement—the way his fingers glided along the strings, the way the melody hummed through the shop, the way his expression softened when he played—held you still. An unspoken feeling stirred inside you, unfamiliar and warm, as you watched him.
The soft strums of the guitar reverberated through the small shop, blending seamlessly with the faint crackling of a vinyl playing somewhere in the background. Your heart thudded softly against your chest as you watched him, completely lost in his own world—eyes low, brows furrowed in concentration, the slightest pout on his lips.
It wasn't fair. How could someone look so effortlessly perfect in such a simple moment? The silver strands of his hair fell over his forehead, catching the warm afternoon light filtering in through the shop’s windows. The oversized white shirt he wore draped lazily over his frame, the sleeves pushed up just enough to reveal his forearms as his fingers moved gracefully over the frets.
And the song—your song.
It wasn’t just the way he played it that captivated you, but the feeling in every note. It was as if he wasn't just strumming chords; he was speaking in a language that only the two of you understood.
You didn't want to interrupt. You didn't want to break the spell. So you stayed there, hovering silently between the shelves of vinyls, letting yourself get lost in the way he swayed slightly with the rhythm, the way his foot tapped softly against the floor.
Then, the song ended with a final, lingering note. The hum of the strings faded into silence, leaving the air thick and still. For a moment, he stayed there, letting his hands rest on the guitar strings, eyes still downcast.
And then he looked up.
The sudden shift in his gaze nearly made you flinch, your breath catching in your throat. His eyes—soft brown, filled with a quiet warmth—locked onto yours, and for a second, neither of you spoke. His expression flickered from surprise to something unreadable before that familiar smile crept onto his face.
“You came back.” His voice was soft, laced with both surprise and something else—something you couldn't quite place.
You nodded, a little breathless as you stepped forward. “I—I didn't mean to interrupt. You were playing Beside You. It's… it's one of my favorites.”
His smile widened just a touch, dimples peeking through. “Yeah? Mine too. Guess we really do have the same taste.”
He carefully set the guitar down on its stand—Veronica, you remembered—and turned toward you, leaning back against the counter. “What brings you in today? Another vinyl to add to the collection?”
You shrugged, trying to play it cool despite the nervous fluttering in your chest. “Something like that. I actually just—” you hesitated, unsure how to finish the sentence. “—wanted to see what was new.”
Jay raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You sure? Or did you come back to listen to me butcher more songs?”
You laughed softly, shaking your head. “I didn't know you could play the guitar, but You’re too good to butcher anything.”
His smile faltered just slightly, as if caught off guard by your words, but he recovered quickly, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, I've got a long way to go, but thanks. I’ve picked up guitar since i was a 5, it's quite normal if your uncle owns a guitar shop. "His voice was quieter now, a bit more vulnerable.
There was a beat of silence, but it didn’t feel awkward. It was comfortable, like the calm right before a storm, where something hung unsaid between the two of you.
“Want me to play something else?” he asked, suddenly breaking the stillness.
You blinked, startled. “For me?”
“Yeah, you're already here, so why not? Pick a song,” he chuckled, settling back down onto the stool with an easy smile.
You paused, considering. “What about… Oasis?‘Wonderwall’ ?”
His head shot up, eyes lighting up like a kid at Christmas. “You're seriously making my day right now.”
The shop seemed to fade away, the quiet hum of the world outside disappearing into the soft, unpolished notes of the guitar. It was just you, the boy with silver hair.
I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now.
Your breath hitched when his gaze met yours. It wasn’t just a fleeting glance this time. It lingered—his brown eyes holding yours with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. His lips curled into the faintest smile, as if he’d felt the weight of the words, too, as if the song were meant for this moment.
For you.
You gripped the edge of the shelf behind you, knuckles turning pale as you tried to steady yourself. The warmth flooding your chest, the flutter in your stomach—you’d never felt this before. Not like this. It wasn’t some grand moment in a romantic movie, but it felt just as significant. Like something you weren’t supposed to feel but couldn’t resist.
You wondered, then, if he felt it too.
The way his eyes softened every time he looked at you. The way he smiled like he was holding onto a secret you didn’t yet know. The way he played this song, one so simple yet so heavy, as if the lyrics were carving a space just for the two of you.
Your heart whispered things you weren’t ready to say out loud. Does he see me the way I see him? Does he feel this, too?
It felt like magic, the kind of moment that you’d replay in your head on sleepless nights, the kind of moment you’d tuck away carefully, afraid it might slip through your fingers.
The strumming grew softer as he reached the final verses, his fingers deftly strumming the last chords. But even as the sound faded into stillness, the look he gave you lingered, as though he, too, had felt something shift.
The silence between you was heavier now, filled with words neither of you dared to speak.
“ that was… really good,” you said softly, breaking the silence. Your voice came out quieter than you’d intended, almost trembling.
The boy’s smile widened, though his expression held something else—something deeper, more uncertain. He set the guitar down gently, leaning back slightly on the stool as his eyes stayed on you. “Thanks. I haven't played that one in a while.”
“Well, it didn't sound like it,” you replied, forcing a small laugh to break the tension that seemed to have wrapped itself around you both.
He tilted his head, his silver hair falling into his eyes before he brushed it away. “You really love this song, huh?”
You nodded, your fingers nervously playing with the hem of your sleeve. “Yeah. It's… special. Makes you feel things, you know?”
His gaze softened again, and for a moment, you thought he was going to say something—something important, something you weren't sure you were ready to hear. But instead, he smiled softly, a little wistfully.
“Yeah. I get that.”
And just like that, the moment passed, leaving you teetering on the edge of something unknown.
You both fell into a quiet that wasn't uncomfortable, but it wasn’t easy either. It was the kind of quiet where feelings settled heavy in the air, unspoken but undeniable. You wondered if he could hear how fast your heart was beating or if he could see the questions swirling in your mind.
“I just realized I don't even know your name. Mind gracing my ears with it?” the boy teased, his dimple deepening as he broke into a warm laugh.
He only has a dimple on the left side of his cheek, you thought to yourself, unable to ignore how effortlessly charming it made him look.
Your face flushed at his words, and you laughed softly, trying to play it cool. “It's Y/N.”
“Y/N,” he repeated, as if testing how it sounded. His grin widened. “Interesting name. I'm just plain old Jay. Or—if you're feeling formal—you can call me Jongseong. Most people just stick with Jay, though.”
He leaned casually against one of the shelves that displayed vinyls, crossing his arms as he watched you, the playful glint in his eyes never fading.
“Jay suits you,” you said quietly, the name lingering on your tongue like it belonged there. You glanced down at the vinyls displayed in front of you, fingers brushing absentmindedly over the edges, though your attention was nowhere near the records. It was on him—the way his smile tugged slightly higher on one side, the way his silver hair framed his face like it was meant to catch the light perfectly.
“Does it?” Jay mused, his tone teasing but gentle. “I always thought it was kind of boring. Plain. But I guess I’ll take your word for it.”
You laughed softly, shaking your head. “It’s not plain. It's…” You hesitated, meeting his gaze. “It's fitting.”
He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Fitting, huh? What’s that supposed to mean?”
You bit your lip, feeling the heat creeping up your face again. Why did he have to look at you like that—like you were the only person in the room? “I just mean… you don’t seem like a ‘Jongseong.’ You seem like a ‘Jay.’ Simple. Warm.”
Your voice trailed off as you realized what you’d said, your heart pounding in your chest. Warm? Did you really just say that out loud?
Jay’s dimple appeared again as he smiled, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. “Warm, huh?” He shifted his weight, leaning more comfortably against the shelf, and for a split second, it looked like he was trying to hide how flustered he was. “You’ve got a way with words, y/n.”
You looked away quickly, suddenly fascinated with the cover of a vinyl on the shelf. “I’m just being honest,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.
For a moment, the two of you fell into a comfortable silence, the tension settling like a quiet hum in the air between you. It wasn’t heavy, but it wasn’t light either—it was something else. Something unspoken.
Jay tilted his head, breaking the silence first. “So, y/n… what’s your story? You seem like someone who has one.”
You blinked, caught off guard by the question. “My story?”
“Yeah,” he said with a small shrug, his tone softer now. “Everyone’s got one. You don’t seem like the kind of person who just ends up here by accident.”
You exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of his question. “I… moved here for school,” you said, choosing your words carefully. “Architecture. My parents are both in the field, so it kind of feels like… I don’t know, like a path I’m supposed to follow.”
Jay’s expression softened, his head nodding slightly as if he understood more than you were saying. “That’s a lot to carry, huh?”
You looked up at him, startled by how easily he’d seen through you. “Yeah,” you admitted, your voice quiet. “Sometimes.”
There was no pity in his gaze, only understanding—like he’d felt the weight of expectation before too. “Well,” he said after a moment, his tone lighter, “for what it’s worth, it sounds like you’re doing fine. You’ve got good taste in music, so you can’t be that lost.”
You laughed at his attempt to lighten the mood, grateful for the small reprieve. “That’s your bar for success? Good taste in music?”
“Absolutely,” Jay replied, grinning. “It says a lot about a person.”
“And what does my music taste say about me?” you challenged, tilting your head slightly.
Jay’s smile faltered for just a moment, something unreadable flashing in his eyes before he answered. “It says you’ve got depth. You feel things. You appreciate what’s real.”
His words struck something deep in you, leaving you momentarily speechless. How could someone you’d barely met see you so clearly?
Jay cleared his throat, as if realizing he’d said too much. “Anyway,” he said, pushing himself off the shelf, his voice returning to its usual playful tone, “you’ll have to come back so I can keep quizzing you on music. I can’t let you win the ‘good taste’ trophy just yet.”
You smiled, your heart fluttering. “I’ll think about it.”
“You better,” he teased, his dimple reappearing. “Veronica and I will be waiting.”
“Veronica?”
He gestured toward the guitar leaning against the stool where he’d been playing earlier. “She’s temperamental, but she’s good to me.”
You laughed, shaking your head. “You named your guitar?”
“Of course I did,” Jay said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “She deserves it.”
You smiled as you watched him, your heart inexplicably light despite the unfamiliar feelings tugging at you. “Alright, Jay. I’ll be back to check in on you… and Veronica.”
“Looking forward to it,” he replied, his voice softening.
As you walked out of the shop, the bell chiming softly above you, you couldn’t help but glance back through the window. Jay was still standing there, watching you leave, a small smile resting on face.
You hadn’t gotten far when a familiar voice called out to you. It wasn’t hard to recognize—Jay.
Turning back in confusion, you spotted him jogging toward you, something tucked under his arm. As he got closer, you realized what it was: the vinyl you’d meant to buy on your first visit. Never Enough was nestled carefully against his chest, the moonlight catching his silver hair and making it glow like a halo.
Stopping in front of you, slightly out of breath, Jay held up the record and offered it to you.
“This is… for you,” he said, panting softly as he caught his breath. “Consider it a ‘nice to meet you’ gift.”
Your mouth fell open in shock, completely caught off guard. You stared at the vinyl, knowing you hadn’t paid for it. “I can’t,” you stammered, shaking your head and waving your hands frantically. “It’s too expensive, and… won’t your uncle beat you up for this?”
Even as you protested, the thought of his kindness sent a quiet warmth spreading through you.
That’s when it struck you how tall Jay really was. Looking straight ahead, you only met his shoulder. He leaned down, a teasing grin tugging at his lips as he whispered, “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
As quickly as he leaned in, he straightened back up, his playful expression unwavering. “Besides,” he exclaimed louder, puffing his chest out for effect, “I’m his nephew. What’s he gonna do? Fire his best employee and the guy with the best taste in the shop?”
He grinned, brushing a few stray strands of silver hair away from his face, the confidence in his voice making you laugh despite yourself.
You stared at him, stunned and unable to form a coherent response. The vinyl now resting in his hands, being held out to you like some kind of offering. It didn’t help that the teasing grin on his face had you feeling lightheaded, your heart hammering wildly in your chest.
“I really can’t take this,” you said again, though your voice wavered, betraying how much you wanted to accept it. “It’s too much.”
Jay tilted his head, the grin softening into something gentler, more sincere. “Y/n, it’s just a record,” he said quietly, though there was something in the way he said your name that made your heart stutter. “It’s not about what it costs. I just… I thought you’d like it.”
You met his gaze then, and the sincerity you found there nearly knocked the air out of your lungs. He meant it. There was no teasing now, no charm for the sake of charm. Just Jay—simple, warm, and standing in front of you with an earnestness that made your walls crumble just a little more.
Your lips parted, searching for something—anything—to say, but all you managed was, “Thank you.” The words were small, almost insignificant compared to the way your chest felt full and heavy all at once. “I really mean it.”
Jay’s grin returned, softer this time, and he placed the vinyl carefully in your hands. “Good,” he said, his voice quiet as if this moment was fragile. “Then it’s settled.”
You stared down at the vinyl, tracing the edge of it with your thumb as you tried to process the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. He didn’t have to do this for you. He barely even knew you. And yet, here he was, going out of his way to make sure you left with a smile.
“You’re really something, Jay,” you muttered, shaking your head in disbelief, though a smile tugged at the corners of your lips.
“And you’re really stubborn,” he shot back playfully, his dimple making another appearance as he chuckled. “But I guess we balance each other out.”
You rolled your eyes, clutching the vinyl closer to your chest as you tried to ignore the fluttering in your stomach. “You’re lucky you’re funny.”
“Lucky, huh?” he teased, tilting his head to the side as he looked at you. “I’ll take it.”
There was a brief pause, a moment suspended in time where neither of you spoke. The afternoon sun cast long shadows on the pavement, the light softening everything around you. For a second, you let yourself take in the sight of him—the way his silver hair fell just slightly over his eyes, the way his smile lingered even when he wasn’t speaking.
The silence between you wasn’t awkward, though it brimmed with something new. Something unsaid. You clutched the vinyl close to your chest, a smile tugging at your lips as you watched Jay recover his usual composure.
“Well,” you said finally, breaking the silence as you tried to steady your heartbeat. “I should get going before I take up your whole day.”
Jay smirked, his hands sliding back into the pockets of his grey sweats. “You say that like it’d be a bad thing.”
“Well,” he said after a beat, copying your words,“You better come back soon, okay? Veronica and I have more songs to play for you.”
You laughed, the sound light and genuine. “You really can’t go two minutes without mentioning Veronica, huh?”
“She’s a big part of my life,” Jay replied with mock seriousness, though the teasing sparkle in his eyes gave him away. “But don’t worry—I’ve got room for other important things too.”
Your heart stumbled over itself at his words, and you quickly looked away, pretending to be interested in the vinyl again. “I’ll come back,” you promised, your voice soft. “I’m starting to think this place might be my new favorite spot.”
Jay’s smile widened, a dimple peeking through on his left cheek. “Good. I’ll hold you to that.”
As he stepped back toward the shop, you watched him go, his silver hair catching the light one last time before he disappeared through the door. You stood there for a moment longer, clutching the record against your chest as a smile broke across your face.
You hadn’t expected to meet someone like him. Someone who made you feel seen without even trying. Someone who handed you a vinyl you’d wanted as though it were the easiest thing in the world.
Back inside the shop, Jay stood by the window, watching you disappear down the street with the vinyl tucked securely in your arms. His smile lingered, but there was a new weight settling in his chest—something unfamiliar, something he couldn’t quite name.
“She’s cool,” he murmured to himself, running a hand through his hair.
And as much as he tried to shake it, the image of your smile stayed with him, refusing to leave.
You found yourself visiting the record shop more often, stopping by every few days after classes, just to say hi to Jay. It always ended with you staying until the store closed, lost in conversation with him.
He greeted you with a warm smile every time, like he was anticipating your arrival. Time flew by when you were having fun. You’d pop in during the afternoon and leave only when the crickets began singing. It became a routine so familiar that even some customers started mistaking you for an employee.
Talking to Jay was easy. He seemed to understand how you felt, sharing his own experiences that mirrored yours. The more you talked, the more Jay couldn’t help but notice the way your eyes would light up when you found that you shared the same thoughts or tastes. It was like two puzzle pieces fitting perfectly together. Jay was a mirror image of you—until the conversation turned to ice cream.
“Mint chocolate tastes like toothpaste,” Jay deadpanned, making you laugh.
“Does not. That’s like saying matcha tastes like grass,” you shot back, rolling your eyes playfully.
“No, it doesn’t! I’d rather eat grass than have toothpaste for dessert,” he replied, his tone teasing, a grin tugging at his lips.
Your jaw dropped in exaggerated disbelief as you crossed your arms over your chest. “Oh, so now you’re a grass-eating expert? Should I grab you a handful from outside?”
Jay let out a laugh, the sound full and genuine, echoing through the quiet shop. “Hey, don’t twist my words! All I’m saying is, grass might be the superior option here.”
“You’re impossible.” You shook your head, though you couldn’t stop the grin tugging at your lips. It was hard to stay fake-mad at him when he looked so effortlessly charming, his silver hair falling into his eyes as he leaned back casually against the counter.
“Impossible but right,” he shot back, that dimple on his left cheek peeking out as he smirked at you. “You’re really defending mint chocolate like your life depends on it, huh?”
“Because it’s amazing and you have no taste,” you retorted, pretending to look insulted. “I feel bad for you. You’ll never know true joy.”
Jay clutched at his heart dramatically, wincing as if you’d just stabbed him. “That hurt, y/n. Truly. I think I need Veronica to comfort me now.”
You couldn’t hold back a laugh as you watched him make his way to the stool where his guitar sat. He grabbed her gently—like she was something fragile—before slinging her across his lap. “Fine, go cry to your guitar,” you teased. “She probably agrees with me anyway.”
“Oh, she definitely doesn’t,” Jay argued, already strumming a playful tune. “Veronica has class.”
You rolled your eyes, but your chest felt light, warmth spreading through you. Moments like these—full of laughter, teasing, and easy conversation—made you forget about everything else. Your classes, your homesickness, the weight of your parents’ expectations… none of it mattered when you were here, talking to Jay. It scared you how much you looked forward to these moments.
Unbeknownst to you, Jay felt the same way. The first few times you visited, he thought it was just a coincidence—that you were probably there for the records. But now… now, he knew better. Every time the bell above the door chimed, his head would snap up, hoping it was you.
You had become his favorite part of the day.
As he played soft, absent-minded chords on Veronica, his eyes flickered toward you. You were leaning against the counter, flipping through a box of vinyls, your expression relaxed and content. For a moment, Jay just watched you, his fingers faltering slightly on the strings.
“Hey, y/n,” he called out, drawing your attention.
You looked up, curious. “Yeah?”
He hesitated for a second, the words on the tip of his tongue. Something about how much he appreciated you coming here, how he felt like the days were brighter when you were around. But instead, he defaulted to teasing, a grin tugging at his lips.
“Promise me something.”
“What?” you asked, raising a brow.
“When I’m right about mint chocolate being trash, you’ll admit it publicly. Maybe we’ll record it and everything. Sound fair?”
You groaned, tossing your head back. “You’re impossible. Truly.”
He chuckled softly, the sound mixing with the hum of his guitar. “But I’m right.”
And for a while, you both sat in that moment—filled with music, banter, and the quiet comfort of knowing you weren’t alone.
Neither of you dared to admit it, but this routine you’d fallen into? It felt dangerously close to something more. But you couldnt shake that uneasy feeling when you looked at jay. He seemed like he was conflicted between telling you something.
As you perched on the familiar stool, your gaze drifted to Jay, who stood at the counter wrapping up a vinyl for a customer. His small, focused smile tugged at something deep inside you. The soft melody of Mac Ayres' Easy played in the background, and you found yourself humming along, lost in the rhythm.
You were so engrossed in the music and your thoughts that you didn’t notice Jay walking toward you until he was standing right in front of you. Startled, you jumped, nearly toppling off the stool.
Jay’s reflexes were quick. His hand shot out to grab your arm, the other steadying you by your waist. “Careful there. Someone must be deep in their feels, huh?” he teased with a grin, his laugh soft and warm.
The contact sent a jolt through you, like a spark lighting your nerves. His touch was firm but gentle, his proximity overwhelming. The scent of his cologne—a mix of cedar and wood—wrapped around you, intoxicating and grounding all at once. Your face burned as you tilted your head to meet his gaze.
“Yeah, it’s hard not to when the curator has such good taste,” you whispered, your voice quiet in the closeness between you. You felt yourself soften under his touch, curious to see how he’d respond.
Jay’s heart stuttered as he looked down at you. Your words carried more weight than they seemed, and something about the way you said them made his chest tighten. He cleared his throat, the heat rising to his cheeks as he tried to keep his composure. His hands lingered a fraction longer than necessary before he let go, his reluctance almost palpable.
“Well,” he murmured, his voice low, “you’re right, considering you picked this one with me.” His eyes held yours, glinting with something unspoken—something you dared to hope might be fondness.
You felt your heart flutter at his words, the shared memory softening the ache you’d tried so hard to bury. For a moment, it was just you and Jay, suspended in the quiet hum of the record shop, with the melody weaving around you like a thread tying you together.
“I know how to play this on the guitar. Wanna listen?” Jay asked, already moving toward Veronica without waiting for your reply.
You nodded, your eyes following his every movement. The way his forearm flexed as he picked up the guitar and adjusted it in his lap, his fingers effortlessly finding the chords—it was mesmerizing. The first familiar notes of Easy filled the shop, his playing smooth and precise, as if the guitar had been made just for him.
Halfway through the song, you couldn’t hold back your curiosity any longer. “Why haven’t I seen anyone else play this guitar?” you asked, breaking the gentle spell of the melody. “I mean, I know the rest of the guitars are free for trial and use, but no one ever touches Veronica.”
Jay chuckled softly, his fingers continuing to dance over the strings. The sound was warm and unhurried, perfectly complementing his low, quiet response. “Let’s just say I don’t like other people touching what’s mine.”
The possessiveness in his tone caught you off guard, sending a shiver down your spine. His words hung in the air, deliberate and weighted with something unspoken. When he tilted his head to look at you, his dark eyes lingering, you couldn’t help but wonder—did he mean the guitar, or was there more to his statement?
Jay's words hung in the air, the weight of them sending a spark of electricity through you. You blinked, momentarily stunned, unsure how to respond. His fingers never faltered on the strings, the melody of the song weaving around the quiet tension that had settled between you.
"Yours?" you repeated, your voice soft but questioning.
Jay smirked faintly, his eyes still on you, an unreadable emotion swirling in their depths. "Veronica," he clarified, though the slight upturn of his lips hinted that he knew exactly what his words had done. "She’s special to me. I guess I’m a little protective."
You nodded slowly, trying to ignore the way your heart raced in your chest. "I get it," you murmured. "She’s beautiful. Sounds even better when you play her."
Jay’s smirk softened into a genuine smile, his fingers continuing to strum as he looked back down at the guitar. "Thanks. But I think she just likes the company," he said, his tone light, though there was something unspoken beneath his words.
The melody shifted, and he began playing something softer, more intimate. You watched him, mesmerized by the way his hands moved effortlessly across the strings, the music flowing from him like a second language.
"You know," he began, his voice low, "there’s something about playing for someone who actually listens. Makes it... feel different." He glanced up at you, his gaze steady and vulnerable. "You always listen."
Your breath hitched, and you felt your cheeks heat up. "Of course I listen," you replied quietly. "You’re... talented. And music—it says a lot about a person. About what they feel, even when they don’t say it."
Jay’s fingers stilled for a moment, and he looked at you as if seeing you in a new light. "That’s true," he said softly. "Music has a way of saying things words can’t."
For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence filled only by the faint hum of the shop’s ambiance and the distant buzz of conversation. Jay’s gaze lingered on you, as if he were trying to decipher a melody only he could hear.
Then, with a soft chuckle, he resumed playing. "Guess I’ll have to keep playing for you, then," he said, his tone playful but his eyes betraying a hint of something deeper.
You smiled, your heart swelling despite yourself. "Guess you will," you whispered, wondering if Jay realized just how much his music—and his presence—meant to you.
That day, you and Jay exchanged numbers, texting each other occasionally to share songs from different artists. Things were going surprisingly well—so well that it stirred an uneasy feeling in your chest. How is this going so smoothly?
There was never a shortage of topics to talk about with Jay. One evening, you were in the shop again. Jay sat on the stool, absentmindedly strumming chords on Veronica, while you animatedly recounted your two-day camping trip to snag Bailey Zimmerman’s Religiously record.
Jay listened attentively, his warm eyes fixed on you, and that damn smile—the one that made your heart race every single time—resting on his face.
“You should come see my record collection sometime,” you said, your words bubbling with excitement. “It’ll blow your mind. I’ll even let you borrow some if you’re nice enough.”
Jay chuckled softly, his voice dropping slightly. “Yeah? Haven’t I been nice enough to you already?”
The air shifted. His words carried more weight than his playful tone suggested.
“Yeah, you’re really nice to me,” you mumbled, suddenly feeling self-conscious as you looked down at your shoes, your cheeks growing warm.
Jay leaned forward slightly, his voice softer now. “You know what? I’d love to—”
The chime of the shop’s door interrupted him. Startled, you turned to see who it was, only to meet the gaze of a striking blonde woman standing in the doorway.
“Seongie, are you done packing up?” she called cheerfully as she stepped inside.
She wore a denim dress, her blonde hair cascading down her back, paired with knee-high boots. There was an undeniable air of elegance about her—a confidence and beauty that made your stomach churn.
Seongie? The name echoed in your head. You’d never heard anyone call him that. Who is she?
You glanced back at Jay, your eyes wide with confusion. But he was already looking at her, his face lighting up with an expression you’d never seen before—soft, adoring, and unreserved.
“Hey, pretty,” Jay greeted, setting Veronica down and standing up to embrace her.
Your heart dropped into your stomach as you watched them. The warmth of the shop suddenly felt suffocating.
When they finally pulled apart, Jay turned to you, though his gaze never really left her. “Y/N, meet my girlfriend, Giselle. Giselle, this is Y/N.”
Girlfriend? The word hit you like a punch to the chest. Your mind spiraled, replaying every interaction with him, every shared moment. Of course, he had a girlfriend. How could someone like him not have a girlfriend?
“Hi, Y/N. Nice to meet you,” Giselle said politely, though her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. She studied you, her gaze curious, as if trying to figure out your connection to Jay.
You forced a smile, willing your voice to sound steady. “Hi. Nice to meet you, too.” But the strain in your tone betrayed you, and you cringed inwardly at how obvious it sounded.
Giselle’s attention shifted back to Jay, who began explaining how the two of you met. Halfway through his story, you blurted out, “I should go. It was really nice to meet you, Giselle. I can see why Jay would fall for you.”
You smiled, but the sadness in your eyes was unmistakable. If Giselle noticed, she didn’t show it, happily bidding you goodbye as she rested her head on Jay’s shoulder.
But Jay noticed. He saw the way your usual spark had dimmed, the way your gaze flickered with hurt when it shifted from him to Giselle. A pang of guilt tugged at his chest, but he quickly pushed it aside, chalking it up to excitement at seeing his girlfriend.
“Y/N—wait,” Jay called out as he watched you gather your things, already halfway to the door.
“Bye, Jay,” you whispered, your voice soft but resolute.
Jay frowned, the ache in his chest growing as he watched you leave. There was no see you tomorrow or see you again soon—just bye.
He exhaled deeply, his chest tightening as he stared at the closed door, your figure growing smaller in the distance.
The shop felt colder after you left, the faint jingle of the door chime lingering in the air. Jay’s eyes stayed fixed on the spot where you’d stood moments before, his jaw tightening slightly. He barely registered Giselle’s hand sliding into his, her cheerful voice breaking through the sudden heaviness in his chest.
“Who is she?” Giselle asked, her tone light, but the underlying curiosity was unmistakable.
Jay blinked, forcing himself to refocus. “She’s a regular,” he said casually, rubbing the back of his neck. “She’s really into music, so we hit it off talking about records.”
Giselle raised an eyebrow, her perfectly manicured nails tapping against the counter. “You seem close,” she said, her words measured. “She looked… comfortable here.”
Jay hesitated, sensing where this was headed. “She’s just a friend,” he said quickly, though the words felt strangely hollow as they left his mouth.
Giselle didn’t reply immediately, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly as if she were trying to read between the lines. “Hmm. A friend, huh?” She let the word hang in the air before shrugging, a smile spreading across her lips. “Well, as long as that’s all she is.”
But Jay felt the weight of her gaze, even as she moved to pick up a vinyl from the shelf. For a moment, he considered telling her more—explaining the connection you two had, how effortless it felt—but something stopped him. Maybe it was the way Giselle leaned into him, her confidence unwavering, or maybe it was the faint trace of guilt bubbling in his chest.
As they left the shop together, Giselle chatting animatedly about her plans for the evening, Jay found his thoughts drifting back to you. He replayed the look on your face when he introduced Giselle—the flicker of pain you tried so hard to mask. It had been subtle, but it was there, and it gnawed at him.
You, on the other hand, were trying to pull yourself together as you walked briskly down the dimly lit street. The ache in your chest was sharp, but you scolded yourself for feeling it. How could you have let yourself get so carried away?
Of course, Jay had a girlfriend—someone stunning, confident, and poised, someone who seemed perfect for him. What had you been thinking? That you, with your hesitant smiles and awkward jokes, could be someone special to him?
Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and for a moment, you thought it might be Jay. But it wasn’t—it was a message from Sunghoon, your classmate about an upcoming project. Letting out a shaky breath, you tucked your phone away and kept walking, refusing to let yourself look back toward the shop.
Later that night, Jay sat on the edge of his bed, his phone in his hand. Giselle had fallen asleep beside him, her even breathing filling the quiet room. He stared at the screen, debating whether to text you.
A part of him knew he shouldn’t. He had no reason to—no justification for reaching out beyond the nagging feeling in his chest that he couldn’t shake. But as his thumb hovered over your name in his contacts, he stopped himself.
Instead, he locked his phone and leaned back, staring up at the ceiling. Giselle shifted slightly beside him, murmuring something in her sleep, and he turned his head to look at her. She was beautiful, kind, and everything he thought he wanted.
So why couldn’t he stop thinking about the way your voice had trembled when you said goodbye?
And why, when he closed his eyes, was it your face that lingered in his mind?
It had been a month since you stopped visiting Jay at the record shop. Neither of you had reached out—no texts, no calls, no accidental run-ins. On the surface, everything seemed normal. You fell back into your routine: hanging out with your friends, spinning the same familiar vinyl records, letting music fill the void. But deep down, you knew it wasn’t the same.
How could it be, when your thoughts kept drifting back to him? The silver-haired boy with warm, expressive eyes. The boy whose dimple only appeared on his left cheek when he smiled. The boy with that small, barely noticeable mole between his brows, leaning slightly to the left.
You couldn't forget him, no matter how hard you tried.
Many nights, your thumb hovered over his contact, debating whether to message him. Maybe you could send a song—something by Mac Miller, perhaps—and pretend it didn’t mean anything. But each time, you stopped yourself.
He had Giselle. He was happy with her. And who were you to ruin that?
Sighing, you locked your phone and let it fall onto your bed, as the second verse of Daniel Caesar’s Valentina played softly in the background. The lyrics seemed to mock your longing, your hesitation, your inability to move on.
Across town, Jay was struggling with his own thoughts.
Every shift at the shop felt emptier without you. Every time the door chimed, his head snapped up, hoping—praying—to see the girl with the mole on her neck, the one that matched his birthmark, just on the opposite side.
You.
The girl who had the same music taste as him. The girl who loved mint chocolate despite his protests.
Jay knew it was wrong—so wrong—to be thinking of you while Giselle stood by his side. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop.
He remembered the way your eyes lit up when he handed you that vinyl, the soft smile you gave him as you watched him play the guitar. Those moments played on a loop in his mind, haunting him with what could’ve been.
His shoulders slumped every time the door opened, only to reveal someone else. You were nowhere to be found. And the shop—once his sanctuary—felt hollow without you there.
It was strange, this emptiness that had taken root in his chest. You weren’t just a customer or a casual friend. You had seen him. The real him. Not the charming, silver-haired boy everyone else knew, but the boy who could talk for hours about Oasis, who played guitar on quiet afternoons, who laughed at stupid arguments about ice cream flavors.
You had understood him in a way that no one else did—not even Giselle.
And now, you were gone.
Days turned into weeks, and Jay started to believe he’d never see you again. Maybe you hated him. Maybe you were angry that he hadn’t told you about Giselle sooner.
Or maybe he had imagined the connection altogether.
But the memory of the sadness in your eyes that day—your voice strained when you said goodbye—stuck with him. It made him wonder. Did you like me?
The thought filled him with equal parts hope and guilt.
Jay sighed, dragging a hand through his silver hair as he stared out the shop window. The world outside seemed as distant as the one he shared with you, the one that had slipped away before he even realized how much it mattered.
He wanted to see you again.
But did you feel the same?
The air in the record shop felt heavier these days. Jay had tried to distract himself, pouring his energy into curating the shelves, perfecting his playlists, and helping customers find hidden gems. But none of it filled the quiet void you’d left behind.
One evening, as the shop neared closing, Jay sat on the wooden stool where he used to play Veronica for you. He strummed absentmindedly, his fingers faltering on the chords. “Beside You” by Keshi came to mind, and he played the opening notes, but the melody felt hollow without you there to listen.
“Why does it feel like I lost something I never even had?” he muttered to himself, letting his hands fall into his lap.
You thought you’d have to get over Jay in your own time, quietly and painfully. But apparently, your friends had other plans.
“Y/N, we’re going to Park Me Up,” Jake announced after class, his voice brimming with excitement as you zipped up your bag.
You froze for a moment, trying to think of an excuse. “Oh, I, uh… I need to go somewhere. To buy cupcakes,” you blurted out, wincing at how unconvincing it sounded even to you.
Jake gave you a deadpan look before his lips curved into a playful pout, his puppy-dog eyes locking onto yours.
“Aw, come on, Y/N! Ning Ning needs our help picking out a gift for Beomgyu. His bandmates decided on a guitar for his birthday, and she’s clueless. It’ll be fun! Don’t be a party pooper,” he said, clasping your hand for dramatic effect.
Before you could protest further, Ning Ning and Sunoo appeared out of nowhere, already hyped about the plan. They didn’t even give you a chance to escape—Jake grabbed one arm, Sunoo grabbed the other, and Ning Ning cheerfully led the way.
“Guys, I really don’t think I should—”
“Too late, Y/N!” Ning Ning sang, ignoring your protests.
You sighed in defeat, letting them drag you toward the destination. Park Me Up wasn’t just any guitar shop—it was Jay’s guitar shop.
The thought sent a wave of dread through you.
The shop was just as you remembered it: cozy, filled with the scent of polished wood and vinyl records. The familiar bell jingled as the four of you stepped inside.
You scanned the counter immediately, your heart pounding, but Jay wasn’t there. Instead, his uncle, Peter, stood behind the register, greeting your group with a warm smile.
“Welcome in, folks! Let me know if you need any help. Oh, hey, Y/N, haven’t seen you around lately. Jay’s been chewing my ear off asking if you’ve stopped by. Pretty sure his neck must be sore from how much he cranes it looking for you,” Peter teased.
Jay? He’s been looking for me? Why? A flush crept up your cheeks, your heart racing even faster at the thought of Jay being nearby.
Your friends glanced at you in confusion as you hovered awkwardly near the entrance, trying to stay out of sight.
“Jay?” Danielle tilted her head curiously, while Sunoo snickered.
“Jay’s my nephew,” Peter explained, leaning casually against the counter. “He and Y/N here hit it off pretty well. She was here so often, I was even considering paying her for helping out around the shop.”
His warm eyes sparkled with amusement, so reminiscent of Jay’s, but his words left you flustered.
Jake’s brows shot up as he smirked at you, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Ooh, hit it off pretty well, huh?”
“It’s—it’s not like that,” you stammered, voice dropping to a whisper. “Jay has a girlfriend. We just had a lot in common, that’s all.” The word girlfriend cut like a knife, the ache in your chest returning.
Your friends didn’t press further, shrugging it off as they scattered toward the guitar section. But Jake lingered, his brow furrowing as he noticed you rooted in place. Without hesitation, he grabbed your hand, tugging lightly.
“Y/N, come on!” Jake urged. “You’re supposed to be helping!”
Just then, the sound of shuffling from the storage room caught everyone’s attention. A moment later, Jay stumbled out, brushing dust from his silver hair.
“Uncle, did you just mention Y/N? Is she here? I swear i heard her voice,” he asked, his voice quick and eager as his eyes darted around the shop—until they landed on you.
The world seemed to slow as your eyes met his, and your heart leapt into your throat. How was it possible for him to look even better, with the roots of his hair starting to grow out, giving him an effortless charm? You swallowed hard, almost breaking eye contact, afraid Jay might see through the carefully constructed facade you’d built to convince everyone—yourself included—that you were fine. Just like he always did.
His gaze shifted downward to where Jake’s hand still held yours, and you swore you saw something flicker in his expression. His brows furrowed slightly, but was it disappointment? Anger? Defeat? You couldn’t tell, but the uncertainty sent a shiver down your spine.
“Hi! You must be Jay. I’m Y/N’s boyfriend, Jake,” Jake said smoothly, his voice cutting through the silence, his blatant lie delivered with practiced ease. He was testing a theory, watching Jay’s reaction like a scientist observing an experiment.
Jay’s brow furrowed deeply, the tight-lipped smile he’d worn vanishing in an instant. In its place was a frown, his expression growing colder and more guarded by the second. His gaze shifted from you, but not before you noticed the way his jaw clenched and his shoulders tensed. Was he... jealous? Did this really affect him? The questions raced through your mind as you struggled to process the shift in his demeanor.
Your jaw dropped in shock as you turned to Jake, practically yanking your hand out of his grasp. “He’s not my boyfriend!” you exclaimed, frantically waving your hands in front of your chest as if to dispel the misunderstanding. “I don’t have a boyfriend. He’s just joking! Don’t take it seriously...” Your voice trailed off into an awkward blabber, cheeks flushed as you tried to explain yourself to Jay.
Jake stood to the side, grinning knowingly as he watched the scene unfold. His eyes flicked to Jay, and his suspicions were confirmed when he saw the subtle change in Jay’s posture. The moment you clarified that Jake was joking, Jay’s shoulders eased, and the tension in his jaw loosened, though his guarded expression lingered.
Jake’s grin widened. “Just wanted to see something,” he muttered under his breath, barely loud enough for you to hear, as he stuffed his hands into his pockets.
“Not funny, man,” Jay said, his tone attempting lightness but still laced with a hint of irritation. He glanced briefly at Jake before turning his gaze back to you, his eyes searching yours.
Jake shrugged, clearly unbothered. “Just testing the waters,” he said nonchalantly, giving you a wink. “I’ll leave you two to… whatever this is.” With that, he turned and walked back toward Ning Ning and Sunoo, leaving you alone with Jay.
Jay stepped forward, his movements hesitant, as if testing the waters. “Y/N,” he called softly, his tone laced with a mix of relief and uncertainty.
You stopped, turning to face him. “Hi, Jay,” you replied, trying to keep your voice even despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you.
“It’s been a while,” he said, his hands fidgeting in his pockets. “I… I didn’t think I’d see you again.”
You swallowed hard, your eyes briefly meeting his before darting away. “Yeah, I’ve been… busy.”
Jay took another step closer, the corners of his lips tugging into a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Busy, huh? Too busy to even text?”
His words hit you like a wave, leaving you momentarily speechless. “I thought…” you began hesitantly, your voice barely above a whisper, “I thought it’d be better if I stayed away. You seemed happy. With Giselle.”
Jay’s expression faltered, and he dropped his gaze to the floor, exhaling a slow, measured breath. “Yeah, I’m happy with Giselle,” he admitted quietly, his voice tinged with something you couldn’t quite place. “But that didn’t mean you had to stay away. We’re friends, right?” His tone softened as if he hoped that saying it gently might lessen the weight of the words.
Hearing him confirm his happiness with Giselle was like a dagger to your heart. You nodded numbly, biting your lip in a futile attempt to keep your emotions in check. But your eyes betrayed you, filled with the sadness you desperately tried to hide. It was a cruel reminder that the growing feelings you had for Jay would always be unrequited.
Life seemed to take away the one good thing you had just when you started to believe in it again. You knew better than to come between Jay and Giselle. You knew better than to linger in his life, where your feelings would only deepen, making it harder to pull away. But how could you not fall for him? How could you resist the silver-haired boy who made your heart race, who smelled like cedar and coffee, whose hair fell into his face as he played your favorite songs with that endearing focus?
A bitter laugh escaped your lips, masking the sound of your heart breaking. “I know I might not mean anything to you,” you began, voice trembling, “and you might not even care, but I don’t think I can stay friends with you, Jay.” Your words cracked as tears threatened to spill. “Because I know I’d just keep falling for you. And you have Giselle. I’m glad you’re happy with her. I don’t want to ruin the good thing you have in your life.”
Your voice dropped to a whisper, but the quiver betrayed the storm raging inside you. Jay’s eyes snapped to yours, his face softening as he registered the raw emotion you couldn’t conceal. You were on the brink of breaking, and both of you knew it.
Jay’s eyes widened as your words sank in, the color draining from his face. He took a small step closer, his hand twitching like he wanted to reach for you but stopped himself. “Y/N,” he started, his voice cracking. “It’s not… it’s not like that.”
You forced a smile, though your trembling lips betrayed the façade. “It’s okay, Jay,” you said softly, your voice laced with heartbreak. “You don’t have to explain. You don’t owe me anything.”
Jay opened his mouth, but no words came out. His heart ached at the sight of you—so vulnerable, so heartbreakingly honest. He felt like the worst kind of person, watching you lay your emotions bare before him, offering your heart only for him to crush it. And the worst part? He knew you anticipated his response. You always understood him too well, the uncanny compatibility between you two making it all the harder for him to let this moment pass.
But before he could say anything, you spoke again, your voice trembling with raw emotion. “I think…” you began, your tone fragile, “I think it’s best for us to just leave this as it is, Jay.”
Your words came out as a plea, each one pulling at his chest. You blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears from falling, but the strain in your voice betrayed how close you were to breaking. Sniffling quickly, you kept your gaze fixed on the ground, refusing to look at him. You couldn’t bear to see the pity—or worse, indifference—in his eyes.
“I wish you well, Jay,” you choked out, barely managing to suppress a sob as you turned to leave, each step away from him feeling like it might break you entirely.
Jay froze, the words lodging in his throat as he watched you crumble before him. He wanted to reach out, to pull you into his arms and tell you that you were wrong—that he didn’t want to leave things like this. But your trembling voice, laced with heartbreak, stopped him in his tracks.
“Y/N…” he whispered, his voice laden with desperation, as if searching for the right words to hold you there. His mind raced, trying to form an explanation, an excuse—anything to stop you from walking away.
But you shook your head quickly, a silent plea for him not to make this even harder. “Don’t, Jay. Please,” you interrupted, your voice trembling, your resolve wavering as the words hung in the air.
He froze, his throat tightening at the finality in your tone.
Jay’s chest tightened, the weight of your words suffocating him. “You weren’t wrong,” he said, his voice breaking. “You weren’t wrong about us.”
You offered him a sad smile, one that didn’t reach your eyes. “But it doesn’t matter, does it?”
He stepped closer, his presence warm yet hesitant, his hand hovering just inches from yours. For a moment, it seemed like he might take your hand, his fingers twitching with an unspoken yearning. But he hesitated, his hand lingering in the air, uncertain and desperate. It was as if he wasn’t sure if he had the right to hold onto you, to ask you to stay.
“It matters to me,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper, but the weight of his words carried straight to your heart. His gaze burned into yours, raw and unguarded, his emotions laid bare. “You matter to me, but not in the way you want it to be. ”
The vulnerability in his tone, the way his voice cracked slightly at the end, made your breath catch. You wanted to believe him, wanted to trust those words, but the pain in your chest reminded you of the boundaries that couldn’t be crossed. Still, his proximity, the sincerity in his eyes, made it harder to walk away.
Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you let yourself believe him. But the hurt was too deep, the scars too fresh. You knew you mattered, just not the way you wanted it to be. You took a step back, creating a physical barrier between you that mirrored the emotional one you were building.
“Bye, Jay,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you turned and walked away.
Jay stood there, rooted to the spot, watching you leave for the second time. He wanted to chase after you, to tell you everything he couldn’t put into words, but his feet refused to move. He could only watch as the person who had come to mean so much to him disappeared from his life, leaving him with a hollow ache in his chest and the echoes of what could have been.
For both of you, the goodbye felt final, even though your hearts whispered that it didn’t have to be.
Your friends exchanged bewildered glances, their confusion palpable, but you didn’t turn back. You couldn’t. With each step, the weight of your feelings threatened to crush you, but you forced yourself forward, knowing it was the only way to protect your heart.
“Hey, Jay,” Jake started cautiously, his voice steady but low. “What just happened?”
Jay’s gaze remained fixed on the door you’d just walked through, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. He couldn’t bring himself to answer. How could he possibly explain what had just transpired?
Sunoo sighed, placing a hand on Jake’s shoulder. “I think we should give them space,” he said softly, gesturing toward the door. “Let’s go check on Y/N.”
The group nodded in agreement, leaving Jay standing there, his silver hair catching the dim light of the shop. His uncle’s voice broke the silence.
“Jay,” Peter said gently, coming out from behind the counter. “You care about her, don’t you?”
Jay’s shoulders slumped, and he let out a shaky breath. “Yeah,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “I do.”
Peter gave him a sympathetic look, his brow furrowing in thought. “Then maybe it’s time you figure out what you really want. Don’t let her slip away without a fight, Jay. Not if she means this much to you.”
Jay nodded, but his heart felt heavy. He didn’t know if he deserved to fight for you after everything he’d put you through. But he did know one thing—losing you felt like losing a part of himself.
As the shop grew quiet again, Jay sat down on the stool, his hand instinctively reaching for Veronica. He strummed a few chords aimlessly, his mind replaying every moment he’d shared with you. The sound of the door chime echoed in the background, but this time, it wasn’t you walking through. It was emptiness, a reminder of what he had just lost.
Months had slipped by, yet Jay was still a ghost in your thoughts. You told yourself you were over him—that time and distance had healed the wound. But every now and then, a memory of his warm smile or the shared laughter over an inside joke would surface, and you couldn’t help but chuckle softly to yourself. It was fleeting, but the ache it brought lingered.
You convinced yourself you’d moved on. After all, you no longer visited the shop, no longer hovered over his contact late at night. But distance, as they say, often makes the heart grow fonder. Deep down, you knew your feelings for Jay weren’t just a fleeting crush or infatuation. They were deeper, more real than you wanted to admit.
On days when the ache felt unbearable, you found yourself wandering near the record shop. You told yourself it was coincidence, that it wasn’t intentional. But each time, your gaze would be drawn to the glass panel, and there he was. Sometimes he’d sit at the counter, lost in thought, his lips forming a soft pout. Other times, he’d strum Veronica on the stool where you used to sit, or move around the shop, chatting animatedly with customers.
And sometimes, just sometimes, it felt like he sensed your presence. His head would turn suddenly, eyes scanning the street. Your heart would leap, and you’d duck behind a pillar, pulse racing as if caught in a forbidden act. Surely, he hadn’t seen you. Right?
Eventually, you stopped. Sunoo, ever the voice of reason, had convinced you that spying from a distance wouldn’t help you move on. You listened. Or at least, you tried.
But Jay had noticed. Every time you came, he saw you—your wide eyes peeking around the corner, the way you hurriedly hid whenever he looked up. He felt a pull to step outside, to call your name, to close the distance between you. Yet, he held back. He told himself it wasn’t fair—to you, to Giselle, to the delicate balance of their lives. He was happy with Giselle—or at least, that’s what he repeated to himself.
So why did thoughts of you creep in when he wasn’t paying attention? Why did he catch himself searching for your laugh in the shop’s quiet, or remembering the way your eyes lit up when he played your favorite song? Could it be that he was falling for you too?
When he realized you’d stopped coming entirely, the tightening in his chest was unbearable. Did you finally move on? Had you met someone who played the guitar better than he could? Someone who shared your love for mint chocolate? The idea was suffocating, but he couldn’t shake it.
And for the first time in a long while, Jay wasn’t sure if he’d made the right choice.
One evening, Jay and Giselle went out for dinner, a rare chance to unwind amidst their busy schedules. After their meal, Giselle beamed, her eyes lighting up as she suggested, “Let’s grab some ice cream. There’s a new shop just down the block.”
Jay nodded, following her lead as they strolled into the cozy shop, the warm lights and cheerful atmosphere inviting them in. The server greeted them with a bright smile. “Welcome! Would you like to try our new flavors?” they asked enthusiastically, motioning to the chalkboard menu listing options in colorful script.
As Giselle scanned the choices, debating between strawberry basil and caramel pretzel, Jay’s eyes drifted over the menu absentmindedly. When the server turned to him, he surprised himself by blurting out, “I’ll have a cup of mint chocolate, please.”
Giselle’s head snapped toward him, a puzzled expression on her face. “Wait, mint chocolate? Don’t you hate that flavor?” she asked, her voice tinged with amusement and disbelief.
Jay froze for a moment, caught off guard by his own decision. The truth was, he hadn’t been thinking about himself when he ordered. He’d been thinking of you. Memories of your playful arguments over ice cream flooded his mind—how you’d stubbornly defended mint chocolate while accusing him of having the palate of a goat for liking matcha. He could almost hear your voice now, teasing and full of life, and the thought made his lips curl into a faint smile.
“Oh, yeah,” he said, trying to play it off casually. “Y/N used to love mint chocolate. She always said it didn’t taste like toothpaste. One time, I told her matcha was better, and she told me to eat grass instead.”
Giselle laughed softly, though there was a flicker of something in her eyes—curiosity, perhaps, or even unease. “Sounds like you and Y/N had a lot of… interesting debates.”
“Yeah,” Jay admitted, his voice quieter now. He didn’t elaborate, but as he took the first bite of the ice cream, a wave of nostalgia hit him. It was bittersweet, much like the flavor he once swore he disliked.
“I haven’t seen her around the shop lately. Did something happen between the two of you?” Giselle asked, her voice light but her gaze sharp, studying Jay’s reaction.
Jay’s brows furrowed as flashes of memory ran through his mind—your tearful goodbye, the way you’d pulled away from him, the words you’d whispered, so final and resolute. His chest tightened, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. He hated how those memories stirred feelings he couldn’t quite name, feelings that made him want to clutch onto them selfishly, as if preserving them for himself would somehow keep you closer.
“Yeah, uh… we’re not really friends anymore,” Jay said lightly, though his tone betrayed him. The seriousness in his voice, the subtle edge, told Giselle everything she needed to know. “But I don’t really want to talk about it.”
Giselle raised an eyebrow, intrigued but cautious. Jay wasn’t one to dwell on relationships that ended; he always kept his circle small, rarely letting people in. Usually, it was just his longtime friends—Heeseung and Sunghoon—who truly knew him. But you? You had broken through those walls in a matter of weeks. How had you done it?
Even Giselle, who had been dating Jay for months, had taken her time to chip away at his guarded exterior. Yet, with you, it seemed effortless. It gnawed at her—a quiet curiosity mixed with something she didn’t want to name.
Giselle studied Jay’s face, noticing the slight tension in his jaw and the way his grip on the ice cream cup tightened. It was rare for Jay to get so guarded, especially with her. She had always admired his calm and collected demeanor, but this was different. This was about you.
“You don’t want to talk about it?” Giselle repeated softly, her voice gentle but probing. “Jay, you know you can tell me anything, right?”
Jay exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair as if trying to shake off the weight of the conversation. He met Giselle’s gaze, his expression unreadable. “It’s not about not trusting you,” he said carefully. “It’s just... complicated.”
Giselle nodded slowly, though the curiosity in her eyes remained. “Complicated how?” she pressed, her tone still soft but laced with concern.
Jay hesitated, torn between the desire to keep the memories of you to himself and the need to reassure Giselle. “She... meant a lot to me,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, almost as if he were confessing something. “We connected in a way that felt different, you know? But it’s over now. She walked away, and I let her.”
Giselle’s brows furrowed at his words. “Different how?” she asked, the question slipping out before she could stop herself.
Jay paused, searching for the right words. “She just... got me,” he said finally. “In a way that didn’t feel forced or complicated. It was easy. She understood things about me that I didn’t even have to explain.”
Giselle’s heart sank at his honesty. She couldn’t ignore the pang of jealousy that crept into her chest, but she pushed it aside. “And what about us?” she asked, her voice tinged with vulnerability. “Do you feel that way with me?”
Jay’s eyes widened slightly, guilt flashing across his face. “Of course I do,” he said quickly, reaching out to take her hand. “Giselle, you’re amazing. You’re my girlfriend. This isn’t about comparing anyone to you. It’s just... a chapter in my life that I wasn’t expecting, and now it’s closed.”
But even as the words left his lips, Jay couldn’t ignore the hollow ache in his chest. Because while he might have closed that chapter, it didn’t mean he had stopped rereading it in his mind. And the more he tried to convince himself otherwise, the more your name lingered on the tip of his tongue.
You sat in the library with your project partner, Sunghoon, discussing how to split the workload. You realized that, despite his quiet demeanor, Sunghoon was actually pretty funny. He often described himself as a "loud introvert," and the more you got to know him, the more you agreed with that description. He gradually integrated into your friend group, quickly becoming close with everyone.
As school grew busier, you started pushing aside the feelings you had for Jay and focused on your studies. With Sunghoon, you managed to score a high grade on your assignment, leading you both to agree to partner up for every project from then on.
To celebrate the end of the school term, your friend group decided to take a trip to Rome, Italy. Everyone was excited to experience the breathtaking architecture. But, as always, life had other plans.
On your second day in Rome, Sunghoon suggested visiting a vinyl shop he had read about online. It wasn’t surprising; you’d come to learn that Sunghoon shared your love for music and had an appreciation for vintage records.
“I need to grab a gift for a friend,” Sunghoon explained as you both waited for a taxi. “He’s really into vinyls. Works in his uncle’s guitar shop.”
The mention of a guitar shop made you freeze for a moment, Jay’s face flashing in your mind. But you quickly pushed the thought aside. Rome was a big city; there was no way this could be connected.It had been a while since you'd last seen him or even spoken to him, and you couldn't help but wonder how he was doing. But the memory of him telling you that he couldn’t see you as more than a friend still lingered, and it made your heart ache even after all this time.
You were standing outside a café, scanning for a place to sit. You noticed a table with a guy sitting alone, an empty seat across from him. Something about the broad shoulders felt familiar. For a moment, you thought it was Jay, but then you remembered that Jay had silver hair, not black, and you doubted he would be in Rome. But you were completely wrong.
Summoning your courage, you walked over to the boy, tapping him lightly on the shoulder. You tried to sound cheerful, “Hi, I’m so sorry to bother you, but would it be possible to share the table? I’m just waiting for someone.” You flashed your best smile, attempting to appear friendly.
But as soon as he looked up, your breath caught. Sitting at the table with a book in hand was Jay, Jongseong. You gasped in shock, and his surprised gaze met yours.
His gaze shifted from confusion to surprise, and then to something you couldn't quite place—longing? Relief? Happiness?
"Y/N?" Jay's voice was filled with disbelief. "Is that you?"
"Jay? What are you doing here?" you responded, equally shocked. How was he in Rome?
You took a moment to take in his appearance—his silver hair was now dyed back to black, and he wore a pair of black-framed glasses perched on his nose. His outfit was simple: a black shirt, blue jeans, and Rick Owens sneakers, yet somehow he looked even more handsome. You couldn’t help but notice the other female customers in the café subtly glancing in his direction, likely drawn to his effortless charm.
Suddenly, the feelings you had buried for so long began to resurface—faster and more intensely than you had expected. You missed him. You missed him more than you cared to admit. You hadn’t expected to see Jay again, but here he was, in front of you, and everything about this moment felt overwhelming.
When Jay felt a tap on his shoulder, he was expecting it to be Giselle, ready to tell him it was time to go. To be honest, the only reason he was even in Rome was for the vinyls and guitar shops—he knew there would be rare finds, given how long some of the shops had been around.
But he didn’t expect to see you.
You were standing in front of him, wearing a sundress in his favorite color—green. The way you smiled brightly at him, only to pause when you realized it was him, made his chest tighten. You looked so beautiful in that dress, the fabric flowing all the way down to your ankles, making you look like something straight out of a fairy tale. Jay’s heart began to race as he took you in, unable to tear his eyes away.
His mind raced, thoughts colliding with the reality of the situation. How was it possible that after all this time, here you were—standing in front of him in Rome? The emotions he had carefully tucked away began to surface again, sharper than before. The feelings he had suppressed, buried in the quiet moments when he let himself think of you, were now resurfacing with an intensity he wasn’t prepared for.
“I–you–how?” Jay’s voice came out as a strained whisper, his words caught in his throat. He missed you, he truly did. It wasn’t right to feel this way when he had Giselle, but he couldn’t help it. Not when you were standing there, wearing his favorite color, looking so beautiful with the sunlight catching your hair. His heart ached, watching the way your smile faltered after you recognized him.
“I’m here with Giselle,” he said, his voice low, almost as if trying to explain himself, “She wanted to go on a trip.”
The way your eyes dimmed at the mention of her made a sharp pain hit his chest. He didn’t know why it hurt so much, but that wasn’t important right now. He needed to talk to you. He needed to know how you were doing, how school had been, how you were holding up. He wanted to tell you that he had changed his mind about mint chocolate, that he now secretly liked it, and how he couldn’t stop listening to White Ferrari by Frank Ocean because the lyrics reminded him of you. He needed to know if you had moved on from him, if you were okay.
Before he could say any of this, you spoke. “I think I should go. Sorry to bother you. Have a good trip, Jay.” Your voice was soft, and Jay could hear the pain you tried to hide, the yearning that lingered beneath your words. How much you missed talking to him, how much you missed watching him play Veronica.
“Wait—Y/N.” His hand shot out, grabbing your wrist gently but firmly, holding you in place as he stood up.
“Please don’t run away from me again,” Jay’s voice was softer now, but it trembled with vulnerability. The desperation in his words made his chest ache, and the way he looked at you, his gaze so open and raw, left no room for doubt—he needed you to stay.
He knew deep down it was wrong. So, so wrong. But in that moment, all he could think about was how much he longed to see you again.
“Jay? What are you—who’s that? Oh, y/n?” Giselle’s voice sliced through the tension as she neared the two of you, her footsteps faltering slightly as she took in the scene.
Giselle's voice rang out sharply, pulling Jay’s attention toward her. Her eyes, once confident, now flickered with something unsettling. As she got closer, the look of confusion and concern on her face grew. She took in the sight of Jay still holding onto your wrist, the gentle way his fingers were wrapped around you. His gaze was soft, almost pleading, something that made her heart twist. She could feel the weight of the shift in the air, the subtle change in Jay's demeanor, and she knew something was different.
The sight of him looking at you like that, so vulnerable and open, made her stomach churn with unease. Giselle had always been sure of Jay—sure of the way he looked at her, sure of the space he made for her in his life. But now, it felt like something was slipping out of her grasp, something she couldn’t quite define.
She knew about Jay’s past relationships—how his exes would beg him to take them back, and yet he never budged. Jay had always been laidback, never one to push things or chase anyone. He’d let things happen naturally, even if that meant moving on when things got tough. But this? This was different.
As she studied you, her gaze softened just a little, but it was enough for you to feel the shift. She could tell by the way you carried yourself that there was more to your relationship with Jay than just a casual meeting. There was history in the way he held your wrist, in the way his eyes searched yours for something he seemed to have lost. It wasn’t hard to see it now. Giselle had been with Jay for long enough to know the subtleties of his body language, but she had never seen him like this. Never seen him plead with anyone.
The jealousy bubbled up in her chest, rising faster than she could control it. She hated feeling like this, but she couldn’t stop it. The effortless way you had him wrapped around your finger was something she could never seem to achieve. No matter how hard she tried to get close to him, how much effort she put into learning about his music, his favorite bands, his quirks—Jay had always been a little distant, a little elusive, like he was holding something back.
But with you? It was different. The connection was palpable, even if it was unspoken. You had always been able to reach him in ways she couldn’t, and the sight of him wanting to talk to you, to stay with you, made her feel invisible.
As Giselle’s gaze turned bitter, she watched Jay’s grip on your wrist loosen, his hand dropping back to his side, defeated. She saw you step back, but the look in your eyes—mirroring Jay’s longing—was all the confirmation she needed. You weren’t just infatuated with her boyfriend; you were in love with him. You were in love with Jay.
“Y/n, what a coincidence!”
Giselle’s smile was tight, laced with an air of false cheerfulness as she greeted you. The subtle intertwining of her fingers with Jay’s was intentional— a clear display of ownership, a silent message that she wasn’t going anywhere. She wanted you to see it, wanted you to feel the distance between you and Jay, wanted you to know that no matter the history, the connection, or the lingering feelings that might still exist, Jay was hers. And she would make sure you understood that.
Jay’s fingers curled against hers, a motion so small, yet filled with so much meaning. Giselle wasn’t sure if it was a silent reassurance for her or a subtle signal to her, telling her not to overstep, not to push too far. He wasn’t looking at her as much as he was looking at you—his gaze was distant, almost apologetic, as though there was a silent conversation going on between the three of you without words. But Giselle was determined to play her part, to hold onto what she thought was hers.
She watched you, her eyes narrowing just slightly, noticing the way your gaze flickered to their intertwined hands, the way your lips pressed into a thin line as the sadness in your eyes became undeniable. For a moment, Giselle felt a flicker of guilt. She could see it in your eyes—the resignation, the hurt, the unspoken words. But that flicker was fleeting, quickly buried beneath a layer of pride and possessiveness.
She watched your expression falter, the realization hitting that the distance between you and Jay was no longer something you could ignore. The subtle disappointment in your face was enough for her to feel a cruel satisfaction. It was like the pieces of a puzzle falling into place. Giselle wasn’t stupid—she could read the way Jay’s body language changed when he was around you, the way his eyes lingered a little too long, the way his tone softened. She could feel it now—the same undercurrent of something that had once been hers. And she wasn’t about to let that slip away without a fight.
The quiet ache in her chest was still there, but it was drowned out by the heat of her jealousy, her insecurity, her need to win. And if that meant pushing you to your breaking point, to make you feel as small and as invisible as possible, then she was willing to do whatever it took. You weren’t going to be the one to take him away. Not after all the effort she had put in to build her life with him.
As Giselle turned her head to kiss Jay on the lips, she heard the small gasp escape from you, and in that moment, she knew she had won.
Your heart shattered, watching Giselle kiss Jay. You wished it could be you, to hold his hand, to feel his arms around you, to feel his lips against yours. But that would never happen, not when all Jay saw you as was a friend. You wanted to turn and walk away, but the ache in your chest kept you rooted to the ground, helplessly watching the scene before you.
Silently, you prayed for someone—anyone—to pull you from the situation. It felt like the universe answered your silent plea when Sunghoon arrived.
“Y/n, let’s go—Jay?” Sunghoon’s voice called out, confusion creeping into his tone as he noticed Jay standing in front of you.
“Hoon?” Jay responded, just as confused, wondering how you and Sunghoon knew each other.
“What are you doing here?” Both of them asked in unison.
“I’m here with Giselle for a holiday. You? How’d you know Y/n?” Jay cleared his throat, trying to keep things lighthearted, though his voice held an edge of protectiveness that Giselle quickly noticed.
Sunghoon glanced back and forth between you and Jay before offering Giselle a polite smile in greeting.
“You guys know each other? Y/n, that’s the friend I told you about who works at a guitar shop. That’s Jay,” Sunghoon explained, oblivious to the tension in the air.
Ah, so they were friends.
Before anyone could say another word, Giselle cut through the silence, her voice a little too bright. “Oh my god, are you guys dating? Jay, look at their matching bracelet! It’s so cute. Should we get one too?” She gestured toward the friendship bracelet that Jungwon had made your whole friend group get, but since the others weren’t around, it made it look like you and Sunghoon were a couple.
Jay’s breath hitched. Were you dating Sunghoon now? How did he not know about this? Sunghoon had never mentioned anything about you when they hung out. Why were you alone with him?
You wanted to explain, to deny the accusation, because it felt wrong to even entertain the thought of being with someone other than Jay. But as your eyes locked with Giselle’s, she gave you a look that made it clear what she was trying to do. You could feel the guilt washing over you. No matter how hard you tried to distance yourself from Jay, the pull was still there.
So, with a heavy heart, you nodded and whispered, “Yeah, we’ve been dating for a while now. We’re in the same class, and we got closer.” You rushed the words out, hoping they sounded convincing.
Sunghoon looked down at you, his brow furrowing in confusion, but he knew better than to expose your lie in front of everyone now. He played along, extending his hand to hold yours.
“Sorry I didn’t tell you guys sooner. I just wanted to find the right time to properly introduce her,” Sunghoon lied smoothly, glancing at Jay.
The weight of the lie you just told settled heavily in your chest. Every word felt like a betrayal, not just to Jay, but to yourself. You could see the confusion flicker in his eyes, the way his lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to ask more, to understand, but he couldn’t. Instead, he swallowed whatever questions he had, and his gaze drifted to Sunghoon, his brows furrowed.
Giselle, on the other hand, was smiling too brightly. She was the one who had won, the one who had forced your hand. Her expression was smug, satisfied as she watched the situation unfold. When you nodded and agreed with her assumption, it was like she had claimed her victory. The small, almost imperceptible twitch in Jay's expression wasn’t enough to make her question her dominance. Instead, she looked between the two of you, a thin veil of sweetness hiding the bitterness she felt beneath the surface.
Jay couldn’t look at you directly. He turned to Sunghoon, his voice casual, yet there was a hint of uncertainty in it. "I didn’t know you two were... close," he said, the words like they were heavier than they sounded.
You couldn’t help but feel like you were suffocating. Every part of you wanted to reach out to Jay, to tell him the truth, to explain that you never intended for this to happen. That it wasn’t about Sunghoon at all. But Giselle’s gaze held you firmly in place, daring you to break, daring you to unravel.
Sunghoon’s hand on yours felt oddly comforting, but it couldn’t block out the ache in your chest. He squeezed your hand, the pressure there like a silent reassurance. He had always been protective, always there for you when you needed someone. But even in this moment, his presence felt like it wasn’t enough to shield you from the heaviness of the lie. The guilt gnawed at you, the burden of keeping up this façade pulling you further away from the truth.
"Right," Jay said finally, his voice quieter now. He gave a small nod, but it was clear that something was weighing on him. His gaze flickered back to you briefly, but you couldn’t meet his eyes. You couldn’t bear to.
Giselle leaned in a little closer to Jay, her fingers tightening around his. "Well, if you’re all set, I think we should go, baby. We have a lot of things to do, don’t we?" Her tone was overly sweet, but it cut through the tension like a knife. She was reminding everyone who Jay was with, reminding you where you stood.
You nodded, your heart sinking deeper into your chest. "Yeah, you should go. I should go too," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.
Sunghoon gave you a gentle nudge, his thumb brushing against the back of your hand, and you took a step away, trying to escape the suffocating atmosphere. But as you turned away, you caught one last glimpse of Jay—his face unreadable, his body tense. He was still holding onto something, still fighting the pull between you and Giselle, between what was real and what had to be hidden.
You turned your back before your emotions could get the best of you, walking away with Sunghoon by your side. But even as you put distance between yourself and that moment, you knew the lie you had told wouldn’t just fade. It was going to hang over you, a shadow you wouldn’t be able to outrun. And Jay? Well, you had no idea where things stood with him anymore. But you knew one thing for sure—everything had just become so much more complicated.
“What was that?” Sunghoon asked softly once you were out of sight of the couple.
“I didn’t know you two were friends,” you mumbled, your gaze fixed on the ground. “I met Jay when I visited the guitar shop he worked at. We got along really well, and I...” You hesitated, your voice faltering. Sunghoon’s reassuring nod gave you the courage to continue.
“And I fell for him,” you admitted quietly. “But then I found out he was dating Giselle. I tried to move on, Sunghoon. I really did. But now, seeing him here in Rome... it’s like all those feelings are coming back, stronger than before.”
Your voice dropped to a near-whisper, trembling with emotion. “I think I’m in love with him, Sunghoon. But I can’t have him, and it hurts so much.”
Sunghoon stopped walking, his expression serious as he took in your words. He didn't interrupt, letting you speak your heart, and when you finished, there was a long pause. You could feel the weight of the silence between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.
He let out a quiet sigh before looking at you with understanding eyes, his tone soft. “I had no idea you felt that way about Jay,” he said slowly. “I could tell something was off, but I didn’t know it went this deep. You don’t have to carry this burden alone, Y/n.”
You looked up at him, the vulnerability in your eyes showing the rawness of your feelings. "I feel so stupid," you admitted, "for letting myself fall for someone who’s already with someone else. And now I don’t know what to do. I can’t just… turn it off. But seeing him with Giselle, holding her hand, it was like a slap in the face."
Sunghoon’s expression softened, his voice firm and caring. “You’re not stupid, Y/n. Love isn’t something you can control. You can’t just turn it off because it’s inconvenient. And I know it hurts to see him with her, but you have to remember that his relationship with Giselle doesn’t define you. You deserve someone who sees you the way you see them, someone who won’t make you feel like second place.”
You closed your eyes, the weight of his words settling in. You wanted so badly to be that person for Jay, but the reality of the situation made it feel impossible.
“I know,” you whispered. “But it doesn’t change how I feel.”
“I get it,” Sunghoon replied quietly. “And you’re allowed to feel that way. But you have to focus on healing, Y/n. If you keep holding onto something that isn’t yours, it’s only going to hurt more in the long run.” He paused, watching you carefully. “You deserve someone who’s going to choose you, not someone who’s already made their choice.”
Your chest tightened as Sunghoon’s words echoed in your mind. You nodded slowly, but a part of you still longed for something that seemed so far out of reach.
“I don’t know if I can move on from him, Sunghoon,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper.
Sunghoon gently squeezed your hand. “You don’t have to right away. But take it one day at a time. You’ll get through this, Y/n. And no matter what happens, I’m here for you, okay?”
You gave him a small, grateful smile, the first one in what felt like a long time. "Thank you, Hoon. I really needed to hear that."
Jay couldn’t focus on anything Giselle was saying because his thoughts were consumed by you: the way you looked in that green dress, the brightness of your smile. He had always thought he was good at making decisions, at choosing the right path. But sitting alone in a café in Rome, he realized that when it came to you, he didn’t even know what the right thing was anymore.
“Are you falling for her?” Giselle’s voice broke through his thoughts, sharp and accusing. She stared at him, waiting for an answer.
Usually, Jay would have shaken his head defensively, pouring extra effort into reassuring her—just as he always did when she questioned his feelings. But this time, he couldn’t.
When Jay started dating Giselle, he thought she was the one. He pictured himself ten years down the road, marrying her, starting a family. That vision had seemed so clear and solid. But now, everything was blurry. Everything was you.
His head hung low in shame and guilt. He couldn’t bring himself to meet her gaze or deny it. He didn’t want to lie to himself anymore, and he didn’t want to lie to Giselle either.
The sight of Jay’s silence, his lowered head, shattered something inside Giselle. She felt her heart plummet, realizing what he wasn’t saying aloud—that he was starting to fall for someone else, and it was happening right in front of her eyes.
Hurt and sadness flickered across her face as she looked at him. She wasn’t ready to let him go. Not yet. She had loved him dearly and used to feel so secure in their relationship. She never had to question his loyalty or love. Jay had always been kind, warm, respectful—a man anyone would admire. He had been her perfect match.
But then you came into his life, and everything changed. You unraveled their relationship without even trying. She could see it in the way Jay’s face lit up when he talked about you, in the private jokes he’d share that only the two of you could understand. Even when they were out together, he would somehow bring you up.
There were nights when insecurity gnawed at her, especially when she noticed how his shoulders slumped as if he were expecting someone else to walk through the door—someone who wasn’t her. She knew, deep down, that he was looking for you.
Frustration and anger consumed her, and eventually, those feelings overwhelmed her guilt. She sought solace elsewhere. Intak had been a distraction, a way to fill the void left by Jay’s drifting attention. Initially, she felt guilty about going out with Intak while still with Jay, but over time, she convinced herself it wasn’t her fault. It was your fault.
You had turned Jay’s head. You had ruined what they had. And now, standing there, she could feel her anger boiling over, fueled by the bitterness of knowing she had been losing him long before this moment.
“Giselle…” he finally murmured, his voice low and uneven. He looked up, and the heartbreak in her eyes made his chest tighten painfully. “I—I don’t know what to say.”
Jay felt the weight of Giselle’s silence as it stretched between them, the tension thick and suffocating. He could feel her gaze boring into him, searching for answers he wasn’t ready to give. He didn’t have the courage to look at her, his shame tethering him to the ground, keeping his eyes fixed on the polished table in front of him.
The truth was messy, tangled in emotions he didn’t want to acknowledge. He knew it wasn’t fair to Giselle, and he hated himself for it. She didn’t deserve this—not the doubt, not the hesitation, not the betrayal that lingered unspoken between them.
Giselle let out a shaky breath, her hands clenched into fists on her lap. “Do you even realize what you’ve done to me, Jay? Do you know how hard I’ve fought for us, for this relationship, while you—” Her voice broke again, and she took a moment to steady herself. “While you were busy thinking about her?”
Jay flinched at the accusation, the raw truth cutting deeper than he expected. He wanted to deny it, to tell her that it wasn’t like that, but he couldn’t. He didn’t have the right to argue when he knew she was right.
Her words hung heavy in the air, and Jay felt like he couldn’t breathe. He wanted to say something, anything, to make it better, but every word felt hollow, insincere. He could only sit there, his mind racing with thoughts of you, of Giselle, of the tangled mess he had created.
“Do you love her?” Giselle asked suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Jay froze, the question hitting him like a punch to the gut. Love? The word echoed in his mind, stirring up feelings he wasn’t ready to confront. He didn’t know how to answer. All he knew was that when he thought of you, his heart felt full and aching all at once, and the thought of losing you—of never seeing you again—made it hard to breathe.
“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice cracking. “But I think…I think I could.”
Giselle’s breath hitched, and she stood abruptly, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. “I can’t do this right now,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. She grabbed her bag and stormed out of the café, leaving Jay sitting there, alone and drowning in the weight of his guilt and confusion.
For the first time, he wondered if he’d already lost everything he thought he wanted—and if you were the one he’d been searching for all along.
Jay watched Giselle’s silhouette disappear into the distance, a heavy weight settling in his chest. He should feel relief, should focus on being the boyfriend she deserved—but his thoughts were tangled, knotted around you. If he truly loved Giselle, there wouldn’t be room for this ache, this restless longing that clawed at him every time he thought of you.
You weren’t his. You never were. And now you were with Sunghoon, his best friend. It should have been easy to let you go, to convince himself that you belonged to someone else. But watching you walk away again felt like someone had ripped a piece of him out, leaving behind a hollow that pulsed with a dull, relentless pain.
Jay told himself he needed to stop. Stop complicating things, stop dreaming of something that could never be. Maybe you were always destined to be a "what if," a fleeting possibility that would haunt him for years to come. He owed it to Giselle to be better, to finally close the door on these feelings. But before he could force himself to let go, he needed to see you one last time.
Later that night, just as you were trying to convince yourself to sleep, your phone buzzed. The screen lit up with a message from Jay.
“Hey, can we talk?”
Your chest tightened. You stared at the words, your hands trembling as you debated your response. Another text followed almost immediately:
“Please.”
The desperation in that one word hit you like a punch to the gut. You wanted to say no, to protect yourself, to end this painful cycle before it broke you completely. But what right did you have to talk to Jay? You weren’t friends, weren’t lovers. You were barely even anything at all anymore.
Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, the tears already falling as you typed:
“Jay, we can’t. This isn’t right. Please don’t make this harder than it already is. We’re both happy. Maybe it’s time to put an end to this.”
You stared at the message, knowing how false it was. Happy? How could you call this agony happiness? The boy you loved was in someone else’s arms, and yet here you were, lying to him and to yourself.
The moment you hit send, your phone rang. Jay’s name flashed on the screen, and your heart lurched violently. You answered, your voice barely above a whisper.
“Hello?”
“Y/N, I’m— I’m downstairs. At your hotel,” Jay’s voice came through, rushed and uneven, like he was struggling to breathe. “I asked Sunghoon. I’m sorry, but I need to see you. Just for a while… please?”
His words were frantic, pleading. You could hear the urgency, the raw edge to his voice that shattered what little resolve you had left.
“I’ll wait until you come down,” he added, his voice softer now, almost broken, before hanging up.
You gripped your phone tightly, your heart a storm of emotions you couldn’t contain. You hated him for doing this to you, for making it impossible to stay away. But more than that, you hated yourself for never being able to say no to him. Jay was your weakness, your undoing. He was the boy who had stolen your heart so effortlessly and left you with nothing but pain in its place.
Before you knew it, your feet carried you out the door, down the elevator, and into the night. Each step felt heavier than the last, the weight of your emotions pressing down on you.
When you reached the street, you saw him immediately. He was leaning against the wall, head hung low, his hands nervously twisting the jacket he held. As you approached, trying to keep your steps quiet, his head snapped up, his eyes finding yours instantly.
For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence between you felt deafening, loaded with everything you couldn’t say. The world around you faded, the hum of the city dimming as the two of you stood there, suspended in time.
The soft glow of the streetlamp illuminated his face, highlighting the tension in his jaw and the storm in his eyes. He looked at you like you were both the answer to every question and the reason for every problem. And you hated how much you wanted to fall apart right there, in front of him, just to feel his arms catch you.
But you knew better. This was a game you could never win, and yet here you were, ready to lose all over again.
Before you could even process what was happening, Jay closed the distance between you, his hands cradling your face with a mix of urgency and tenderness before his lips crashed onto yours. The kiss was electric, chaotic, and raw, filled with emotions that neither of you had been able to express in words. His lips moved fervently against yours, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, and you felt the weight of his desperation, longing, guilt, and frustration pouring into every movement.
You froze at first, your mind screaming at you to push him away. This was wrong—so, so wrong. He had a girlfriend. You had Sunghoon. This moment wasn’t supposed to exist, and yet, as his warmth enveloped you, you found yourself unable to resist.
You weren’t supposed to enjoy the way his lips felt on yours, the way they ignited a fire in you that you’d tried so hard to extinguish. You weren’t supposed to let your hands drift up to clutch at his shirt, pulling him closer as though he was the only thing keeping you grounded. But you did.
The world around you disappeared, and all that remained was Jay—his touch, his breath, his presence overwhelming you entirely. Your lips moved against his with the same frantic energy, your emotions spilling out in a silent confession. You kissed him back with everything you had, trying to imprint this moment into your memory because deep down, you knew it wouldn’t last.
This wasn’t yours to keep. This wasn’t yours at all. And yet, for this fleeting moment, you allowed yourself to believe that it could be. Tonight, you let yourself forget the consequences, the heartbreak waiting just beyond the glow of the streetlamp. Tonight, you gave yourself to Jay completely, even as your heart fractured under the weight of knowing that this would only ever be a stolen moment.
The world seemed to blur around you as Jay’s lips moved against yours. The cold night air faded, replaced by the heat of the moment, the intensity of emotions you both tried so hard to suppress. His hands were warm, firm yet tender as they cradled your face, grounding you in the whirlwind of feelings you had been running from for so long.
But the weight of reality loomed over you like a shadow, tugging at your conscience even as your heart begged you to stay in this fleeting moment. The kiss was a storm—fierce, unrelenting, and consuming—but you knew storms always passed, leaving devastation in their wake.
“Jay,” you gasped, breaking away, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Your hands, still clutching his shirt, trembled as you looked up at him. His eyes were dark, searching yours for answers, for reassurance, for anything to justify what had just happened.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, but his hands didn’t leave your face. “I just... I couldn’t hold back anymore.”
You shook your head, tears welling up as the weight of what had just happened crashed over you. “This isn’t right, Jay. We can’t do this,” you said, your voice cracking. “You have Giselle. And me—I’m with Sunghoon.” The words felt hollow, but you forced them out, hoping to remind both of you of the lines you’d just crossed.
His jaw tightened at the mention of Sunghoon, and he looked away briefly, as if the thought pained him. “I know,” he said quietly. “I know this is wrong. But I couldn’t stop myself. I needed to see you.” he admitted, his voice laced with regret. “But I can’t stop thinking about you, Y/N. I’ve tried—I’ve tried so hard, but no matter what, you’re always there.”
His confession tore through you, the raw vulnerability in his words igniting something deep within your chest, but the guilt that followed was sharper. “Jay, you don’t understand what this will do to everyone,” you said, wiping at your tears. “This isn’t just about us. Giselle loves you. Sunghoon trusts me. We can’t destroy them for something that might not even last.”
Jay’s jaw tightened, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “Do you really believe that? That this—” he gestured between the two of you, his voice trembling—“is nothing?”
You hesitated, your heart battling your mind, the truth caught in the space between. “I don’t know,” you finally admitted, your voice barely audible. “I don’t know what this is, Jay. But I know it can’t happen like this.”
Jay took a shaky step back, his face falling as the reality of your words sank in. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling deeply as if trying to compose himself. “You’re right,” he said quietly, his tone resigned. “This isn’t fair to anyone.”
You nodded, your chest aching as you watched the boy you loved wrestle with the same emotions tearing you apart. “We need to let this go,” you said, even though the words felt like knives in your throat. “For them. For us.”
Jay looked at you one last time, his eyes filled with sorrow and longing, before nodding slowly. “Goodbye, Y/N,” he said, his voice heavy with finality.
You watched as he turned and walked away, the distance between you growing with each step. You were hoping that he didnt look back, because he would have seen your legs give out, as you sobbed silently, your tears falling freely under the soft glow of the streetlamp.
Tonight was supposed to be the night you let him go, but as you stood there, your heart breaking, you realized letting go was far harder than you could have imagined.
But then, Jay did look back.
He froze when his eyes found you, crouched on the pavement with your head buried in your hands, your shoulders trembling. You weren’t looking at him, but the sight alone cut through him like a blade. He could feel your pain, raw and unrestrained, and it twisted in his chest until he couldn’t breathe.
He knew what this was. He felt it too—the tension, the connection, the pull. But if he felt it so deeply, why couldn’t he take the leap? Why couldn’t he let go of Giselle if every fiber of his being was drawn to you?
Jay knew the answer. Deep down, he was a coward. Afraid of the consequences, afraid of shattering the life he’d built, even if it meant suffocating the part of him that longed for you. He hid behind Giselle, behind the facade of comfort, because facing the truth meant risking everything.
But now, watching you fall apart, something inside him snapped. It was as if an unseen force dragged him back to you. His feet moved before his mind caught up, and suddenly, he was kneeling beside you, his voice trembling as he whispered, “What am I going to do with you?”
His expression was strained, filled with anguish as he reached for you, pulling you into his arms. The warmth of his embrace broke the dam you’d been holding back.
“I missed you so much, Jay,” you sobbed, your voice trembling and raw. “I’m sorry. I know I messed everything up. I complicated things for you, but I’m in love with you. I know you’re not mine to have, but it hurts so much, Jay. I love you, but I know you’re happy with someone else, and I—”
Your words dissolved into breathless cries as Jay tightened his hold on you. His arms wrapped around you as if trying to shield you from the very pain he’d caused, his own silent tears slipping into the night as he held you close. For that moment, the rest of the world didn’t exist—only the two of you, broken and vulnerable under the glow of the streetlamp.
Jay’s heart clenched at your words, each syllable carving deeper into the conflict he carried. He didn’t speak immediately, just held you tighter, his own emotions threatening to spill over as he buried his face in your hair. Your sobs echoed through the quiet street, raw and unfiltered, and for the first time in a long while, he felt utterly powerless.
“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice trembling as he pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your tear-streaked face. His thumb brushed against your cheek, wiping away a stray tear as his own eyes glistened. “I’ve missed you too. More than I should, more than I ever wanted to. You have no idea how many nights I’ve stayed awake thinking about you, wondering what it would be like if things were...different.”
The pain in his voice was undeniable, and it only made your tears fall harder. “Then why, Jay?” you whispered, your voice breaking as you searched his face. “Why can’t we—why can’t you—”
“Because I’m scared,” he admitted, the words spilling out before he could stop them. His voice cracked under the weight of his confession, and he looked away, ashamed. “I’m scared of ruining everything. Of hurting Giselle. Of losing you if this doesn’t work. I don’t know how to let go of her, and I don’t know how to let go of you.”
His honesty only made the ache in your chest grow. You reached out, placing a trembling hand on his cheek, guiding his gaze back to you. “Jay, you can’t have it both ways,” you said softly, your voice heavy with both love and pain. “You have to choose. And if you can’t, then maybe...maybe I have to make the choice for you.”
“No,” Jay said quickly, his hand flying to cover yours. “Don’t. Don’t leave me, Y/N. Please.” The desperation in his tone made your heart twist, but you knew deep down that something had to give.
“I can’t keep holding on to someone who was never mine to begin with, Jay,” you whispered, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “You’re you, and I’m… me. Can’t you see? You’re talented, warm, kind, gentle—and I’m a mess. Giselle… she suits you. She’s beautiful, patient, everything I’m not. You two look perfect together.”
You paused, your breaths shaky as you tried to steady yourself, but the pain in your chest only grew heavier. “I’m so tired, Jay. I’m tired of the nights I lie awake, wishing I could be the one in your arms. I’m tired of being afraid of myself because I want so desperately to be the one you look at with that gentleness in your eyes. I want to be the one who makes you laugh, the girl who loves you with her whole heart.”
Your voice faltered, breaking into a strained whisper as tears streamed down your face. “But I can’t. I can’t be that girl, Jay. I’ll never be her.”
Your sobs softened into quiet sniffles, the silence between you thick and suffocating. You couldn’t bear to look at him, afraid of what you might see—pity, regret, or worse, nothing at all. All the words you’d kept locked inside were now laid bare, and yet, the ache in your chest only deepened, the weight of your unspoken love threatening to crush you.
Jay’s chest tightened with every word you spoke, each one laced with pain, longing, and a finality that made his heart feel like it was being crushed. He reached out for you instinctively, his hands trembling, but he stopped himself, letting them fall to his sides. He knew he had no right to comfort you—not when he was the source of your pain.
“Y/N…” he began, his voice hoarse and broken. “Don’t say that. Please, don’t say that about yourself.” His eyes glistened with unshed tears as he took a shaky step toward you, though the weight of your words kept him from getting too close. “You don’t see what I see, do you? You’re not a mess. You’re—” He swallowed hard, his voice cracking. “You’re everything, Y/N. Everything I didn’t even know I needed. And I hate myself for making you feel like you’re not enough because you are. You always were.”
Your lips trembled as you shook your head, stepping back. “Don’t do this, Jay. Don’t say these things when you know you can’t follow through. You’re with her, and I’m… I’m not a part of that world. I can’t keep pretending like there’s a place for me in your life when all I’m doing is hurting myself.”
He reached out again, his hand hovering near yours before pulling it back, defeated. “I don’t know what to do, Y/N,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m so lost. I thought I had everything figured out, but then you walked into my life, and now—now nothing makes sense. I don’t want to lose you, but I also don’t want to keep hurting you like this. I don’t know how to let go of you, Y/N. I don’t know how to stop wanting you.”
You bit your lip, forcing yourself to stay strong even as his words tore you apart. “You have to,” you said, your voice steady despite the tears streaming down your face. “For both of us. You have to let me go, Jay. Because I can’t keep living like this. I can’t keep loving someone who’s never going to be mine.”
The finality of your words hung heavy in the air, and Jay felt his knees go weak. He wanted to argue, to plead with you to stay, but deep down, he knew you were right. He had been selfish, holding onto you while refusing to make a choice. And now, it was too late.
“Okay,” he whispered, his voice cracking as tears rolled down his cheeks. “Okay, Y/N. If that’s what you need, I’ll—I’ll let you go. But just know that I…” He hesitated, the words caught in his throat. “I’m sorry. For everything. For not being brave enough to choose you. For hurting you. For loving you when I shouldn’t have.”
You nodded, your chest heaving as you tried to steady your breathing. “Goodbye, Jay,” you whispered, the words barely audible but heavy with meaning.
And this time, when you walked away, Jay didn’t follow. He stayed rooted to the spot, watching you disappear into the night, his heart shattered into pieces he wasn’t sure he could ever put back together.
Maybe in another life, maybe in another universe, he would have been the one to hold you close, his arms your safest place. He would have been the one to press soft kisses to your temple, nuzzling his nose against your neck as though the world outside didn’t exist. He would have been the one to wake beside you each morning, his fingers gently brushing through your hair, his gaze filled with the quiet adoration of someone who’d found their forever.
He would have carried you on his back when your legs gave out, laughing at your complaints but never letting go. He would have cooked your favorite meals, waiting for the sound of your keys turning in the door because coming home meant coming back to him. He would have been the one to stand at the end of the aisle, his heart racing as he watched you walk toward him in a gown that made you look like a dream.
He would have been the one you said “I do” to, your voice steady and full of promise. He would have been the one who vowed to hold you through the storms and the sunshine, in moments of joy and in those of despair. For better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health—he would have been the one to love and cherish you until your very last breath.
In another life, in another universe, he would have been the one. But here, in this tangled mess of reality, he could only dream of the love that could have been.
Maybe in another life, Jay thought, the universe would have been kinder to the both of you. In that life, there would be no Giselle, no tangled strings of guilt and confusion, no walls of "what ifs" and "too lates." In that life, he wouldn't have hesitated. He wouldn't have second-guessed every decision, every step closer to you.
He could imagine it so clearly, almost cruelly vivid in his mind. You, standing in the kitchen in the morning light, your laugh filling the air as he teased you about something silly. The way you’d rest your head on his shoulder during quiet moments, your presence a comfort he never knew he needed until it was gone.
He would have been the one to carry you when life got heavy, to wipe away your tears and kiss your worries away. He would have known, deep in his soul, that he didn’t just love you—he belonged with you.
But this wasn’t another life. This wasn’t another universe. And in this one, he had made his choices, and you had made yours. The weight of that reality pressed heavily on his chest, a bitter ache he knew he’d carry for a long time, maybe forever.
As he stood under the same stars that had once seemed to shine so brightly for him, Jay let the tears fall freely, his heart whispering a silent prayer to a world that didn’t exist.
Maybe in another life, you would have been his, and he would have been yours. But in this one, all he could do was love you from afar, a love that would remain untouched by time but buried deep within his heart.
ahhh thanks for reading up till here everyone! let me know if you liked it! this fic actually hit very close to home while i was writing because i subconsciously inserted my own feelings towards jay in this LOL😞
"You should try Park Me Up, " Jake suggested, his Australian accent stretching the words.
"fuck what up?" you asked, your voice unintentionally louder in confusion.
Jake stifled a laugh. "dude, Park Me Up. It's a guitar shop that sells vinyls, too. Heard the selection's pretty dope. Apparently, the owner's nephew curates it." He chuckled, rolling his eyes when he realized what you'd misheard. Danielle, sitting to your right, let out a quiet laugh at your expense.
pairing - guitar shop worker! jay x female reader
w.c - 22.4k
content: y/n is a reserved individual, who moves to seattle for university, where she meets a silver haired boy working in a guitar shop while looking for vinyls. ( mentions of members from other groups, or in enha)
warnings! jay is very very indecisive, mentions of cheating, kissing, heavy heavy angst, kissing, mutual pinning, slow burn. (lmk if i missed out anything...)
a/n: hello everyone ! i finally published my first full length fic after forever lol... It's christmas already and it should be a jolly fic but... im a sucker for angst... i hope you guys like it ! Happy holidays lovelies! Also thank you to my offline friend who proofread this for me, and thank you grammerly for correcting my grammers LOL.
You never expected yourself to fall for Jay. You really didn't. You never intended to be so completely enamored by the boy who worked at his uncle's guitar shop—the boy who always showed up in an oversized white shirt and gray sweats, hair falling messily over his forehead, yet somehow looking effortlessly perfect. The boy with silver hair that shimmered under the dim store lights as he strummed chords on a guitar he probably didn't plan to buy. But here you were, hopelessly in love with a boy who had a girlfriend.
Moving to Seattle had been a decision more practical than emotional, but it still hurt. You stood by the window of your tiny apartment, staring out at the city as it buzzed with energy, even on a quiet Wednesday night. The view was breathtaking—glittering skyscrapers against the dark sky, streets glowing with endless streams of headlights and neon signs. Yet, despite the beauty, there was an ache inside you. You missed home, the warmth of your family, and the familiarity of your old life.
Your parents hadn’t made the choice any easier. Both renowned architects, they had high hopes that you would follow in their footsteps. Seattle was where they had both studied, fallen in love, and started building their careers. To them, sending you here felt like a full-circle moment, a chance for you to experience what they had cherished so deeply. To you, it felt like being uprooted.
“You need this,” your mother had said, her voice softer than usual as she helped pack your bags. “A new city, new challenges—it’ll be good for you. Just promise me you’ll explore. Don’t hide away in your room with your vinyls all day.”
You’d reluctantly agreed, not wanting to disappoint her.
A few weeks had passed since school started, and to your surprise, things weren’t as bad as you’d feared. Your decision to major in architecture felt natural, like a familiar rhythm you’d always known. Growing up with two architects as parents meant you had a solid foundation, and the workload—while demanding—was manageable.
But school wasn’t the part that scared you. It was the loneliness you dreaded most. Your mom’s parting words echoed in your mind as you forced yourself to step out of your comfort zone, accepting an invitation from a friendly classmate named Beomgyu to grab lunch. That one small decision changed everything.
Beomgyu quickly became one of your closest friends, and through him, you met Danielle and Ning Ning, two of the most vibrant people you’d ever known. They, in turn, introduced you to their wider circle—Jake, Jungwon, and Sunoo. Jake and Jungwon were Twitch streamers, a detail you found both amusing and fascinating.
“Jake’s not even good at the games he streams,” Jungwon teased one afternoon as you all sat around a table at a cozy ice cream shop downtown. “He keeps dying and getting pity donations from girls who think he’s cute.”
Jake let out a dramatic whine, lips jutting into a pout as he folded his arms. “That’s not true! I’m good at some games.”
Danielle snorted, pointing her spoon at him. “You literally called Fall Guys a ‘competitive battle royale.’”
Jake turned to you for backup, his eyes wide and pleading. “You believe me, right?”
You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound bubbling out of you before you could stop it. Moments like these felt warm and grounding, like you were finally finding a place for yourself in this unfamiliar city
"Did you see? Daniel Caesar's new album just dropped," Jake whispered, leaning closer to you in class. His eyes flicked toward the front of the lecture hall, where the professor was mid-sentence.
"Never Enough, right? Yeah, I saw," you replied, keeping your voice low to avoid getting caught. "I think I'm gonna hit up a store to buy the vinyl. I need it for my collection."
"You should try Park Me Up," Jake suggested, his Australian accent stretching the words.
"fuck what up?" you asked, your voice unintentionally louder in confusion.
Jake stifled a laugh. "dude, Park Me Up. It’s a guitar shop that sells vinyls, too. Heard the selection’s pretty dope. Apparently, the owner’s nephew curates it." He chuckled, rolling his eyes when he realized what you'd misheard. Danielle, sitting to your right, let out a quiet laugh at your expense.
"Oh, right. Got it," you mumbled, quickly typing the shop's name into Google. It was only fifteen minutes from campus—definitely worth checking out.
Later that afternoon, curiosity got the better of you. With your classes done for the day and a spare hour on your hands, you decided to make the trip to Park Me Up. Jake's recommendation had piqued your interest, and you figured it wouldn't hurt to check out the shop.
The small bell above the door jingled softly as you pushed it open, stepping into the cozy, slightly dim space. The scent of polished wood and aged vinyl filled the air, and rows of guitars lined the walls, their polished surfaces gleaming under the warm light. In the corner, a shelf was dedicated to records, a modest but eclectic collection that immediately drew your attention.
You were flipping through the vinyls, scanning the neatly labeled dividers, when a voice startled you.
“Looking for something specific?”
You glanced up to find a boy standing behind the counter, his silver hair catching the light in a way that made it impossible not to stare for a second too long. He was wearing a slightly oversized white shirt over his grey sweats, the casual look somehow amplifying his presence rather than diminishing it. The silver haired boy was already looking at you curiously, albeit an amused smile on his face.
“Uh, yeah,” you managed, your voice almost catching. “I was looking for Daniel Caesar’s Never Enough. Heard you guys might have it.”
He smiled faintly, the kind of smile that felt effortlessly genuine. “Good choice. We just got a shipment in. Let me grab it for you.”
You watched as he moved to the back, his stride unhurried but purposeful. When he returned, he held the vinyl in his hands like it was something sacred, carefully placing it on the counter between you.
“Here you go,” he said, his voice soft. “This one’s already been pretty popular.”
“Thanks,” You hesitated before asking, “So, do you curate the collection here?”
He blinked in surprise before nodding. “Yeah, I do. How’d you know?”
“Word of mouth,” you said, shrugging lightly. “A friend recommended the shop. Said the vinyl selection’s great because of you.”
His smile widened slightly, and there was something in his expression that made your stomach flip. “Glad to hear it. I try to make it as diverse as possible. Let me know if there’s something you’re looking for, and I’ll see what I can do.”
You opened your mouth to say something, but the boy beat you to it. “What genre of music do you listen to?” he asked, his tone casual but curious.
You hesitated, feeling a little self-conscious. Some of your friends always teased you for having the music taste of a middle-aged woman. “Um, I’m not sure if you’d know them, but... Oasis? Red Jumpsuit Apparatus, The 1975—and, you know, the more basic ones like Frank Ocean, Tyler, Kendrick…” Your voice trailed off, and you missed the way the boy’s smile grew wider with every name you mentioned, his eyes lighting up with excitement.
“Oasis? No way. That’s my favorite band,” the silver-haired boy blurted, his enthusiasm catching you off guard. “Usually, there aren’t many people our age who listen to them. My friends always call me an old soul because of my taste in music. But finally—finally—I don’t have to be an old soul alone!”
He leaned back, grinning from ear to ear. “Honestly, I think I've met my match. I listen to almost every artist you just named. You might even be better at curating playlists than I am,” he chuckled, the sunlight streaming through the window catching on his silver hair and making his honey-tanned skin seem to glow.
Your cheeks flushed slightly at his enthusiasm, the way his eyes lit up as if he’d just stumbled upon some rare treasure. You hadn’t expected this reaction, let alone from someone who looked like they belonged on the cover of a magazine instead of behind the counter of a record shop.
“You're just saying that,” you said with a shy laugh, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I'm not that great at curating. I just... listen to what feels right, you know?”
The boy shook his head, his smile unwavering.“No, I mean it. Oasis is a bold choice, especially for someone who looks…” He trailed off, suddenly catching himself.
Your brow arched slightly. "Looks what?”
He cleared his throat, his confidence faltering for just a moment. “Looks like they'd be more into pop or something.”
You rolled your eyes, but there was no bite in your response.“Yeah, well, don't judge a book by its cover. Or a person by their playlist.”
His laugh was soft, the kind that made your chest tighten unexpectedly. “Fair enough.”
The conversation settled into a comfortable rhythm, the initial awkwardness melting away.
“Okay, I have to ask,” Jay said suddenly, leaning against the counter with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Favorite Oasis song?”
You hesitated, pretending to think it over even though you already knew the answer. “Don’t Look Back in Anger. Classic.”
He nodded approvingly, his grin widening. “Respect. Though, Live Forever might just take the top spot for me.”
You tilted your head, a playful challenge in your tone. “Strong choice. But I think Champagne Supernova could give it a run for its money.”
Jay’s laughter filled the shop, warm and unrestrained. “You’re good. I might just have to hire you as my personal music consultant.”
You were about to respond when the door chimed again, signaling another customer. Jay turned slightly to greet them, but his feet remained planted, standing in front of you with that wide, easy smile. To him, it felt like looking into a mirror—like seeing himself, just in the opposite gender.
You wanted to speak, to ask for his name, but the customer broke the moment, calling for his assistance.
“i've, um, got to go. See you around? ” he said softly, giving you one last glance. A dimple appeared on his left cheek as he smiled, the kind of smile that lingered, just like the glint of his silver hair catching the light. For a fleeting moment, it felt as though the world slowed down.
“See you,” you whispered to yourself, knowing he couldn’t hear you anymore. You carefully placed the vinyl back where you found it, a small smile tugging at your lips—because you knew you’d be coming back.
The soft click of the door echoed behind you, and the quiet hum of the city greeted you as you stepped onto the sidewalk. The night air was crisp, brushing against your cheeks, and for some reason, you couldn’t wipe the small smile off your face.
You couldn’t stop thinking about him. About his silver hair, the excitement in his voice when you mentioned Oasis, and the way he had lingered—just a little longer than he needed to—before walking away.
As you walked, your thoughts kept drifting back to the shop. To him. It was silly, really. You barely knew him. He was just a boy in a guitar shop. But something about him tugged at you in a way you couldn’t quite explain, as though a song you’d forgotten had started playing in the background of your life, soft and familiar.
Meanwhile, inside the shop, Jay was still standing behind the counter, his head tilted slightly as he watched you through the large front window. The orange glow from the streetlights traced the outline of your figure as you disappeared down the street, and for reasons he couldn’t quite articulate, his chest tightened.
It wasn’t often that someone caught his attention like that. Sure, plenty of customers passed through the shop, and Jay, ever the charmer, knew how to win people over with a smile or a bit of small talk. But this felt different. The way you spoke, the way you looked at him—like you really heard him, like you understood. It was rare. And it left a mark.
The sound of the other customer clearing their throat broke him from his trance. He turned back, hastily fixing his expression into something neutral, professional, but the remnants of his smile were still there.
“Sorry, what was that?” he asked, trying to focus.
The customer repeated their request, but even as Jay worked, his mind stayed far away, replaying your words, your quiet demeanor, the way your face flushed when you saw him smile at you. It was such a small thing, but it had stuck with him—how you’d looked so startled, yet soft and genuine all at once, like no one had smiled at you that way in a long time.
He wasn’t quite sure why it mattered. Or why it kept tugging at the corners of his thoughts, refusing to let go.
Jay’s hands moved on autopilot as he rang up the customer’s purchase, his mind somewhere else entirely. He thought about the way your voice had softened when you spoke about the bands you loved, how your fingers brushed the edge of the vinyl as though it were something precious. And the way you whispered—so quietly he wasn’t even sure he’d heard it—“see you.”
You’d meant it, hadn’t you? That you’d come back?
Jay blinked back into focus as the customer grabbed their bag and left, muttering a “thanks” on their way out. He let out a breath, leaning back against the counter, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck. This was ridiculous. It wasn't like he hadn't met interesting people before.
But you weren't like the others.
You didn't try to impress him, didn't try to force conversation. You were just... yourself. Unapologetically quiet, honest, and deeply sincere in that brief moment. It felt like a melody he couldn’t place but one he already knew by heart.
He ran a hand through his silver hair, glancing out the shop window to the darkened street. You were long gone now, but the image of you—standing there in the soft glow of the shop’s lights, lips quirking into that small, shy smile—lingered in his mind.
“Get it together, Jay,” he muttered to himself. But the truth was, he already knew he’d be watching for you. Waiting for that door to chime again.
And when it did, he wasn’t sure what would happen—he just knew he wanted to find out.
The soft jingle of the bell above the door announced your arrival. You stepped into the shop, your eyes darting instinctively toward the counter—only to find it empty.
He must not be working today, you thought, a tinge of disappointment settling in. Still, the familiar scent of old vinyl records mixed with the faint tang of guitar polish surrounded you, offering its usual comfort.
Then you heard it. Soft, deliberate strums of a guitar, playing the chords to “Beside You” by Keshi—one of your favorite songs. Curiosity tugged at you, and you ventured deeper into the store, following the sound.
The shop was quieter today. A few customers lounged in the listening area, sipping coffee or flipping through newspapers. As you rounded a shelf, your eyes landed on him.
The silver-haired boy sat perched on a wooden stool, a black-and-white guitar cradled in his lap—a Fender Stratocaster, you’d later learn, named Veronica.
You stood there, captivated. Every movement—the way his fingers glided along the strings, the way the melody hummed through the shop, the way his expression softened when he played—held you still. An unspoken feeling stirred inside you, unfamiliar and warm, as you watched him.
The soft strums of the guitar reverberated through the small shop, blending seamlessly with the faint crackling of a vinyl playing somewhere in the background. Your heart thudded softly against your chest as you watched him, completely lost in his own world—eyes low, brows furrowed in concentration, the slightest pout on his lips.
It wasn't fair. How could someone look so effortlessly perfect in such a simple moment? The silver strands of his hair fell over his forehead, catching the warm afternoon light filtering in through the shop’s windows. The oversized white shirt he wore draped lazily over his frame, the sleeves pushed up just enough to reveal his forearms as his fingers moved gracefully over the frets.
And the song—your song.
It wasn’t just the way he played it that captivated you, but the feeling in every note. It was as if he wasn't just strumming chords; he was speaking in a language that only the two of you understood.
You didn't want to interrupt. You didn't want to break the spell. So you stayed there, hovering silently between the shelves of vinyls, letting yourself get lost in the way he swayed slightly with the rhythm, the way his foot tapped softly against the floor.
Then, the song ended with a final, lingering note. The hum of the strings faded into silence, leaving the air thick and still. For a moment, he stayed there, letting his hands rest on the guitar strings, eyes still downcast.
And then he looked up.
The sudden shift in his gaze nearly made you flinch, your breath catching in your throat. His eyes—soft brown, filled with a quiet warmth—locked onto yours, and for a second, neither of you spoke. His expression flickered from surprise to something unreadable before that familiar smile crept onto his face.
“You came back.” His voice was soft, laced with both surprise and something else—something you couldn't quite place.
You nodded, a little breathless as you stepped forward. “I—I didn't mean to interrupt. You were playing Beside You. It's… it's one of my favorites.”
His smile widened just a touch, dimples peeking through. “Yeah? Mine too. Guess we really do have the same taste.”
He carefully set the guitar down on its stand—Veronica, you remembered—and turned toward you, leaning back against the counter. “What brings you in today? Another vinyl to add to the collection?”
You shrugged, trying to play it cool despite the nervous fluttering in your chest. “Something like that. I actually just—” you hesitated, unsure how to finish the sentence. “—wanted to see what was new.”
Jay raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You sure? Or did you come back to listen to me butcher more songs?”
You laughed softly, shaking your head. “I didn't know you could play the guitar, but You’re too good to butcher anything.”
His smile faltered just slightly, as if caught off guard by your words, but he recovered quickly, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, I've got a long way to go, but thanks. I’ve picked up guitar since i was a 5, it's quite normal if your uncle owns a guitar shop. "His voice was quieter now, a bit more vulnerable.
There was a beat of silence, but it didn’t feel awkward. It was comfortable, like the calm right before a storm, where something hung unsaid between the two of you.
“Want me to play something else?” he asked, suddenly breaking the stillness.
You blinked, startled. “For me?”
“Yeah, you're already here, so why not? Pick a song,” he chuckled, settling back down onto the stool with an easy smile.
You paused, considering. “What about… Oasis?‘Wonderwall’ ?”
His head shot up, eyes lighting up like a kid at Christmas. “You're seriously making my day right now.”
The shop seemed to fade away, the quiet hum of the world outside disappearing into the soft, unpolished notes of the guitar. It was just you, the boy with silver hair.
I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now.
Your breath hitched when his gaze met yours. It wasn’t just a fleeting glance this time. It lingered—his brown eyes holding yours with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. His lips curled into the faintest smile, as if he’d felt the weight of the words, too, as if the song were meant for this moment.
For you.
You gripped the edge of the shelf behind you, knuckles turning pale as you tried to steady yourself. The warmth flooding your chest, the flutter in your stomach—you’d never felt this before. Not like this. It wasn’t some grand moment in a romantic movie, but it felt just as significant. Like something you weren’t supposed to feel but couldn’t resist.
You wondered, then, if he felt it too.
The way his eyes softened every time he looked at you. The way he smiled like he was holding onto a secret you didn’t yet know. The way he played this song, one so simple yet so heavy, as if the lyrics were carving a space just for the two of you.
Your heart whispered things you weren’t ready to say out loud. Does he see me the way I see him? Does he feel this, too?
It felt like magic, the kind of moment that you’d replay in your head on sleepless nights, the kind of moment you’d tuck away carefully, afraid it might slip through your fingers.
The strumming grew softer as he reached the final verses, his fingers deftly strumming the last chords. But even as the sound faded into stillness, the look he gave you lingered, as though he, too, had felt something shift.
The silence between you was heavier now, filled with words neither of you dared to speak.
“ that was… really good,” you said softly, breaking the silence. Your voice came out quieter than you’d intended, almost trembling.
The boy’s smile widened, though his expression held something else—something deeper, more uncertain. He set the guitar down gently, leaning back slightly on the stool as his eyes stayed on you. “Thanks. I haven't played that one in a while.”
“Well, it didn't sound like it,” you replied, forcing a small laugh to break the tension that seemed to have wrapped itself around you both.
He tilted his head, his silver hair falling into his eyes before he brushed it away. “You really love this song, huh?”
You nodded, your fingers nervously playing with the hem of your sleeve. “Yeah. It's… special. Makes you feel things, you know?”
His gaze softened again, and for a moment, you thought he was going to say something—something important, something you weren't sure you were ready to hear. But instead, he smiled softly, a little wistfully.
“Yeah. I get that.”
And just like that, the moment passed, leaving you teetering on the edge of something unknown.
You both fell into a quiet that wasn't uncomfortable, but it wasn’t easy either. It was the kind of quiet where feelings settled heavy in the air, unspoken but undeniable. You wondered if he could hear how fast your heart was beating or if he could see the questions swirling in your mind.
“I just realized I don't even know your name. Mind gracing my ears with it?” the boy teased, his dimple deepening as he broke into a warm laugh.
He only has a dimple on the left side of his cheek, you thought to yourself, unable to ignore how effortlessly charming it made him look.
Your face flushed at his words, and you laughed softly, trying to play it cool. “It's Y/N.”
“Y/N,” he repeated, as if testing how it sounded. His grin widened. “Interesting name. I'm just plain old Jay. Or—if you're feeling formal—you can call me Jongseong. Most people just stick with Jay, though.”
He leaned casually against one of the shelves that displayed vinyls, crossing his arms as he watched you, the playful glint in his eyes never fading.
“Jay suits you,” you said quietly, the name lingering on your tongue like it belonged there. You glanced down at the vinyls displayed in front of you, fingers brushing absentmindedly over the edges, though your attention was nowhere near the records. It was on him—the way his smile tugged slightly higher on one side, the way his silver hair framed his face like it was meant to catch the light perfectly.
“Does it?” Jay mused, his tone teasing but gentle. “I always thought it was kind of boring. Plain. But I guess I’ll take your word for it.”
You laughed softly, shaking your head. “It’s not plain. It's…” You hesitated, meeting his gaze. “It's fitting.”
He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Fitting, huh? What’s that supposed to mean?”
You bit your lip, feeling the heat creeping up your face again. Why did he have to look at you like that—like you were the only person in the room? “I just mean… you don’t seem like a ‘Jongseong.’ You seem like a ‘Jay.’ Simple. Warm.”
Your voice trailed off as you realized what you’d said, your heart pounding in your chest. Warm? Did you really just say that out loud?
Jay’s dimple appeared again as he smiled, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. “Warm, huh?” He shifted his weight, leaning more comfortably against the shelf, and for a split second, it looked like he was trying to hide how flustered he was. “You’ve got a way with words, y/n.”
You looked away quickly, suddenly fascinated with the cover of a vinyl on the shelf. “I’m just being honest,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.
For a moment, the two of you fell into a comfortable silence, the tension settling like a quiet hum in the air between you. It wasn’t heavy, but it wasn’t light either—it was something else. Something unspoken.
Jay tilted his head, breaking the silence first. “So, y/n… what’s your story? You seem like someone who has one.”
You blinked, caught off guard by the question. “My story?”
“Yeah,” he said with a small shrug, his tone softer now. “Everyone’s got one. You don’t seem like the kind of person who just ends up here by accident.”
You exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of his question. “I… moved here for school,” you said, choosing your words carefully. “Architecture. My parents are both in the field, so it kind of feels like… I don’t know, like a path I’m supposed to follow.”
Jay’s expression softened, his head nodding slightly as if he understood more than you were saying. “That’s a lot to carry, huh?”
You looked up at him, startled by how easily he’d seen through you. “Yeah,” you admitted, your voice quiet. “Sometimes.”
There was no pity in his gaze, only understanding—like he’d felt the weight of expectation before too. “Well,” he said after a moment, his tone lighter, “for what it’s worth, it sounds like you’re doing fine. You’ve got good taste in music, so you can’t be that lost.”
You laughed at his attempt to lighten the mood, grateful for the small reprieve. “That’s your bar for success? Good taste in music?”
“Absolutely,” Jay replied, grinning. “It says a lot about a person.”
“And what does my music taste say about me?” you challenged, tilting your head slightly.
Jay’s smile faltered for just a moment, something unreadable flashing in his eyes before he answered. “It says you’ve got depth. You feel things. You appreciate what’s real.”
His words struck something deep in you, leaving you momentarily speechless. How could someone you’d barely met see you so clearly?
Jay cleared his throat, as if realizing he’d said too much. “Anyway,” he said, pushing himself off the shelf, his voice returning to its usual playful tone, “you’ll have to come back so I can keep quizzing you on music. I can’t let you win the ‘good taste’ trophy just yet.”
You smiled, your heart fluttering. “I’ll think about it.”
“You better,” he teased, his dimple reappearing. “Veronica and I will be waiting.”
“Veronica?”
He gestured toward the guitar leaning against the stool where he’d been playing earlier. “She’s temperamental, but she’s good to me.”
You laughed, shaking your head. “You named your guitar?”
“Of course I did,” Jay said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “She deserves it.”
You smiled as you watched him, your heart inexplicably light despite the unfamiliar feelings tugging at you. “Alright, Jay. I’ll be back to check in on you… and Veronica.”
“Looking forward to it,” he replied, his voice softening.
As you walked out of the shop, the bell chiming softly above you, you couldn’t help but glance back through the window. Jay was still standing there, watching you leave, a small smile resting on face.
You hadn’t gotten far when a familiar voice called out to you. It wasn’t hard to recognize—Jay.
Turning back in confusion, you spotted him jogging toward you, something tucked under his arm. As he got closer, you realized what it was: the vinyl you’d meant to buy on your first visit. Never Enough was nestled carefully against his chest, the moonlight catching his silver hair and making it glow like a halo.
Stopping in front of you, slightly out of breath, Jay held up the record and offered it to you.
“This is… for you,” he said, panting softly as he caught his breath. “Consider it a ‘nice to meet you’ gift.”
Your mouth fell open in shock, completely caught off guard. You stared at the vinyl, knowing you hadn’t paid for it. “I can’t,” you stammered, shaking your head and waving your hands frantically. “It’s too expensive, and… won’t your uncle beat you up for this?”
Even as you protested, the thought of his kindness sent a quiet warmth spreading through you.
That’s when it struck you how tall Jay really was. Looking straight ahead, you only met his shoulder. He leaned down, a teasing grin tugging at his lips as he whispered, “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
As quickly as he leaned in, he straightened back up, his playful expression unwavering. “Besides,” he exclaimed louder, puffing his chest out for effect, “I’m his nephew. What’s he gonna do? Fire his best employee and the guy with the best taste in the shop?”
He grinned, brushing a few stray strands of silver hair away from his face, the confidence in his voice making you laugh despite yourself.
You stared at him, stunned and unable to form a coherent response. The vinyl now resting in his hands, being held out to you like some kind of offering. It didn’t help that the teasing grin on his face had you feeling lightheaded, your heart hammering wildly in your chest.
“I really can’t take this,” you said again, though your voice wavered, betraying how much you wanted to accept it. “It’s too much.”
Jay tilted his head, the grin softening into something gentler, more sincere. “Y/n, it’s just a record,” he said quietly, though there was something in the way he said your name that made your heart stutter. “It’s not about what it costs. I just… I thought you’d like it.”
You met his gaze then, and the sincerity you found there nearly knocked the air out of your lungs. He meant it. There was no teasing now, no charm for the sake of charm. Just Jay—simple, warm, and standing in front of you with an earnestness that made your walls crumble just a little more.
Your lips parted, searching for something—anything—to say, but all you managed was, “Thank you.” The words were small, almost insignificant compared to the way your chest felt full and heavy all at once. “I really mean it.”
Jay’s grin returned, softer this time, and he placed the vinyl carefully in your hands. “Good,” he said, his voice quiet as if this moment was fragile. “Then it’s settled.”
You stared down at the vinyl, tracing the edge of it with your thumb as you tried to process the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. He didn’t have to do this for you. He barely even knew you. And yet, here he was, going out of his way to make sure you left with a smile.
“You’re really something, Jay,” you muttered, shaking your head in disbelief, though a smile tugged at the corners of your lips.
“And you’re really stubborn,” he shot back playfully, his dimple making another appearance as he chuckled. “But I guess we balance each other out.”
You rolled your eyes, clutching the vinyl closer to your chest as you tried to ignore the fluttering in your stomach. “You’re lucky you’re funny.”
“Lucky, huh?” he teased, tilting his head to the side as he looked at you. “I’ll take it.”
There was a brief pause, a moment suspended in time where neither of you spoke. The afternoon sun cast long shadows on the pavement, the light softening everything around you. For a second, you let yourself take in the sight of him—the way his silver hair fell just slightly over his eyes, the way his smile lingered even when he wasn’t speaking.
The silence between you wasn’t awkward, though it brimmed with something new. Something unsaid. You clutched the vinyl close to your chest, a smile tugging at your lips as you watched Jay recover his usual composure.
“Well,” you said finally, breaking the silence as you tried to steady your heartbeat. “I should get going before I take up your whole day.”
Jay smirked, his hands sliding back into the pockets of his grey sweats. “You say that like it’d be a bad thing.”
“Well,” he said after a beat, copying your words,“You better come back soon, okay? Veronica and I have more songs to play for you.”
You laughed, the sound light and genuine. “You really can’t go two minutes without mentioning Veronica, huh?”
“She’s a big part of my life,” Jay replied with mock seriousness, though the teasing sparkle in his eyes gave him away. “But don’t worry—I’ve got room for other important things too.”
Your heart stumbled over itself at his words, and you quickly looked away, pretending to be interested in the vinyl again. “I’ll come back,” you promised, your voice soft. “I’m starting to think this place might be my new favorite spot.”
Jay’s smile widened, a dimple peeking through on his left cheek. “Good. I’ll hold you to that.”
As he stepped back toward the shop, you watched him go, his silver hair catching the light one last time before he disappeared through the door. You stood there for a moment longer, clutching the record against your chest as a smile broke across your face.
You hadn’t expected to meet someone like him. Someone who made you feel seen without even trying. Someone who handed you a vinyl you’d wanted as though it were the easiest thing in the world.
Back inside the shop, Jay stood by the window, watching you disappear down the street with the vinyl tucked securely in your arms. His smile lingered, but there was a new weight settling in his chest—something unfamiliar, something he couldn’t quite name.
“She’s cool,” he murmured to himself, running a hand through his hair.
And as much as he tried to shake it, the image of your smile stayed with him, refusing to leave.
You found yourself visiting the record shop more often, stopping by every few days after classes, just to say hi to Jay. It always ended with you staying until the store closed, lost in conversation with him.
He greeted you with a warm smile every time, like he was anticipating your arrival. Time flew by when you were having fun. You’d pop in during the afternoon and leave only when the crickets began singing. It became a routine so familiar that even some customers started mistaking you for an employee.
Talking to Jay was easy. He seemed to understand how you felt, sharing his own experiences that mirrored yours. The more you talked, the more Jay couldn’t help but notice the way your eyes would light up when you found that you shared the same thoughts or tastes. It was like two puzzle pieces fitting perfectly together. Jay was a mirror image of you—until the conversation turned to ice cream.
“Mint chocolate tastes like toothpaste,” Jay deadpanned, making you laugh.
“Does not. That’s like saying matcha tastes like grass,” you shot back, rolling your eyes playfully.
“No, it doesn’t! I’d rather eat grass than have toothpaste for dessert,” he replied, his tone teasing, a grin tugging at his lips.
Your jaw dropped in exaggerated disbelief as you crossed your arms over your chest. “Oh, so now you’re a grass-eating expert? Should I grab you a handful from outside?”
Jay let out a laugh, the sound full and genuine, echoing through the quiet shop. “Hey, don’t twist my words! All I’m saying is, grass might be the superior option here.”
“You’re impossible.” You shook your head, though you couldn’t stop the grin tugging at your lips. It was hard to stay fake-mad at him when he looked so effortlessly charming, his silver hair falling into his eyes as he leaned back casually against the counter.
“Impossible but right,” he shot back, that dimple on his left cheek peeking out as he smirked at you. “You’re really defending mint chocolate like your life depends on it, huh?”
“Because it’s amazing and you have no taste,” you retorted, pretending to look insulted. “I feel bad for you. You’ll never know true joy.”
Jay clutched at his heart dramatically, wincing as if you’d just stabbed him. “That hurt, y/n. Truly. I think I need Veronica to comfort me now.”
You couldn’t hold back a laugh as you watched him make his way to the stool where his guitar sat. He grabbed her gently—like she was something fragile—before slinging her across his lap. “Fine, go cry to your guitar,” you teased. “She probably agrees with me anyway.”
“Oh, she definitely doesn’t,” Jay argued, already strumming a playful tune. “Veronica has class.”
You rolled your eyes, but your chest felt light, warmth spreading through you. Moments like these—full of laughter, teasing, and easy conversation—made you forget about everything else. Your classes, your homesickness, the weight of your parents’ expectations… none of it mattered when you were here, talking to Jay. It scared you how much you looked forward to these moments.
Unbeknownst to you, Jay felt the same way. The first few times you visited, he thought it was just a coincidence—that you were probably there for the records. But now… now, he knew better. Every time the bell above the door chimed, his head would snap up, hoping it was you.
You had become his favorite part of the day.
As he played soft, absent-minded chords on Veronica, his eyes flickered toward you. You were leaning against the counter, flipping through a box of vinyls, your expression relaxed and content. For a moment, Jay just watched you, his fingers faltering slightly on the strings.
“Hey, y/n,” he called out, drawing your attention.
You looked up, curious. “Yeah?”
He hesitated for a second, the words on the tip of his tongue. Something about how much he appreciated you coming here, how he felt like the days were brighter when you were around. But instead, he defaulted to teasing, a grin tugging at his lips.
“Promise me something.”
“What?” you asked, raising a brow.
“When I’m right about mint chocolate being trash, you’ll admit it publicly. Maybe we’ll record it and everything. Sound fair?”
You groaned, tossing your head back. “You’re impossible. Truly.”
He chuckled softly, the sound mixing with the hum of his guitar. “But I’m right.”
And for a while, you both sat in that moment—filled with music, banter, and the quiet comfort of knowing you weren’t alone.
Neither of you dared to admit it, but this routine you’d fallen into? It felt dangerously close to something more. But you couldnt shake that uneasy feeling when you looked at jay. He seemed like he was conflicted between telling you something.
As you perched on the familiar stool, your gaze drifted to Jay, who stood at the counter wrapping up a vinyl for a customer. His small, focused smile tugged at something deep inside you. The soft melody of Mac Ayres' Easy played in the background, and you found yourself humming along, lost in the rhythm.
You were so engrossed in the music and your thoughts that you didn’t notice Jay walking toward you until he was standing right in front of you. Startled, you jumped, nearly toppling off the stool.
Jay’s reflexes were quick. His hand shot out to grab your arm, the other steadying you by your waist. “Careful there. Someone must be deep in their feels, huh?” he teased with a grin, his laugh soft and warm.
The contact sent a jolt through you, like a spark lighting your nerves. His touch was firm but gentle, his proximity overwhelming. The scent of his cologne—a mix of cedar and wood—wrapped around you, intoxicating and grounding all at once. Your face burned as you tilted your head to meet his gaze.
“Yeah, it’s hard not to when the curator has such good taste,” you whispered, your voice quiet in the closeness between you. You felt yourself soften under his touch, curious to see how he’d respond.
Jay’s heart stuttered as he looked down at you. Your words carried more weight than they seemed, and something about the way you said them made his chest tighten. He cleared his throat, the heat rising to his cheeks as he tried to keep his composure. His hands lingered a fraction longer than necessary before he let go, his reluctance almost palpable.
“Well,” he murmured, his voice low, “you’re right, considering you picked this one with me.” His eyes held yours, glinting with something unspoken—something you dared to hope might be fondness.
You felt your heart flutter at his words, the shared memory softening the ache you’d tried so hard to bury. For a moment, it was just you and Jay, suspended in the quiet hum of the record shop, with the melody weaving around you like a thread tying you together.
“I know how to play this on the guitar. Wanna listen?” Jay asked, already moving toward Veronica without waiting for your reply.
You nodded, your eyes following his every movement. The way his forearm flexed as he picked up the guitar and adjusted it in his lap, his fingers effortlessly finding the chords—it was mesmerizing. The first familiar notes of Easy filled the shop, his playing smooth and precise, as if the guitar had been made just for him.
Halfway through the song, you couldn’t hold back your curiosity any longer. “Why haven’t I seen anyone else play this guitar?” you asked, breaking the gentle spell of the melody. “I mean, I know the rest of the guitars are free for trial and use, but no one ever touches Veronica.”
Jay chuckled softly, his fingers continuing to dance over the strings. The sound was warm and unhurried, perfectly complementing his low, quiet response. “Let’s just say I don’t like other people touching what’s mine.”
The possessiveness in his tone caught you off guard, sending a shiver down your spine. His words hung in the air, deliberate and weighted with something unspoken. When he tilted his head to look at you, his dark eyes lingering, you couldn’t help but wonder—did he mean the guitar, or was there more to his statement?
Jay's words hung in the air, the weight of them sending a spark of electricity through you. You blinked, momentarily stunned, unsure how to respond. His fingers never faltered on the strings, the melody of the song weaving around the quiet tension that had settled between you.
"Yours?" you repeated, your voice soft but questioning.
Jay smirked faintly, his eyes still on you, an unreadable emotion swirling in their depths. "Veronica," he clarified, though the slight upturn of his lips hinted that he knew exactly what his words had done. "She’s special to me. I guess I’m a little protective."
You nodded slowly, trying to ignore the way your heart raced in your chest. "I get it," you murmured. "She’s beautiful. Sounds even better when you play her."
Jay’s smirk softened into a genuine smile, his fingers continuing to strum as he looked back down at the guitar. "Thanks. But I think she just likes the company," he said, his tone light, though there was something unspoken beneath his words.
The melody shifted, and he began playing something softer, more intimate. You watched him, mesmerized by the way his hands moved effortlessly across the strings, the music flowing from him like a second language.
"You know," he began, his voice low, "there’s something about playing for someone who actually listens. Makes it... feel different." He glanced up at you, his gaze steady and vulnerable. "You always listen."
Your breath hitched, and you felt your cheeks heat up. "Of course I listen," you replied quietly. "You’re... talented. And music—it says a lot about a person. About what they feel, even when they don’t say it."
Jay’s fingers stilled for a moment, and he looked at you as if seeing you in a new light. "That’s true," he said softly. "Music has a way of saying things words can’t."
For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence filled only by the faint hum of the shop’s ambiance and the distant buzz of conversation. Jay’s gaze lingered on you, as if he were trying to decipher a melody only he could hear.
Then, with a soft chuckle, he resumed playing. "Guess I’ll have to keep playing for you, then," he said, his tone playful but his eyes betraying a hint of something deeper.
You smiled, your heart swelling despite yourself. "Guess you will," you whispered, wondering if Jay realized just how much his music—and his presence—meant to you.
That day, you and Jay exchanged numbers, texting each other occasionally to share songs from different artists. Things were going surprisingly well—so well that it stirred an uneasy feeling in your chest. How is this going so smoothly?
There was never a shortage of topics to talk about with Jay. One evening, you were in the shop again. Jay sat on the stool, absentmindedly strumming chords on Veronica, while you animatedly recounted your two-day camping trip to snag Bailey Zimmerman’s Religiously record.
Jay listened attentively, his warm eyes fixed on you, and that damn smile—the one that made your heart race every single time—resting on his face.
“You should come see my record collection sometime,” you said, your words bubbling with excitement. “It’ll blow your mind. I’ll even let you borrow some if you’re nice enough.”
Jay chuckled softly, his voice dropping slightly. “Yeah? Haven’t I been nice enough to you already?”
The air shifted. His words carried more weight than his playful tone suggested.
“Yeah, you’re really nice to me,” you mumbled, suddenly feeling self-conscious as you looked down at your shoes, your cheeks growing warm.
Jay leaned forward slightly, his voice softer now. “You know what? I’d love to—”
The chime of the shop’s door interrupted him. Startled, you turned to see who it was, only to meet the gaze of a striking blonde woman standing in the doorway.
“Seongie, are you done packing up?” she called cheerfully as she stepped inside.
She wore a denim dress, her blonde hair cascading down her back, paired with knee-high boots. There was an undeniable air of elegance about her—a confidence and beauty that made your stomach churn.
Seongie? The name echoed in your head. You’d never heard anyone call him that. Who is she?
You glanced back at Jay, your eyes wide with confusion. But he was already looking at her, his face lighting up with an expression you’d never seen before—soft, adoring, and unreserved.
“Hey, pretty,” Jay greeted, setting Veronica down and standing up to embrace her.
Your heart dropped into your stomach as you watched them. The warmth of the shop suddenly felt suffocating.
When they finally pulled apart, Jay turned to you, though his gaze never really left her. “Y/N, meet my girlfriend, Giselle. Giselle, this is Y/N.”
Girlfriend? The word hit you like a punch to the chest. Your mind spiraled, replaying every interaction with him, every shared moment. Of course, he had a girlfriend. How could someone like him not have a girlfriend?
“Hi, Y/N. Nice to meet you,” Giselle said politely, though her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. She studied you, her gaze curious, as if trying to figure out your connection to Jay.
You forced a smile, willing your voice to sound steady. “Hi. Nice to meet you, too.” But the strain in your tone betrayed you, and you cringed inwardly at how obvious it sounded.
Giselle’s attention shifted back to Jay, who began explaining how the two of you met. Halfway through his story, you blurted out, “I should go. It was really nice to meet you, Giselle. I can see why Jay would fall for you.”
You smiled, but the sadness in your eyes was unmistakable. If Giselle noticed, she didn’t show it, happily bidding you goodbye as she rested her head on Jay’s shoulder.
But Jay noticed. He saw the way your usual spark had dimmed, the way your gaze flickered with hurt when it shifted from him to Giselle. A pang of guilt tugged at his chest, but he quickly pushed it aside, chalking it up to excitement at seeing his girlfriend.
“Y/N—wait,” Jay called out as he watched you gather your things, already halfway to the door.
“Bye, Jay,” you whispered, your voice soft but resolute.
Jay frowned, the ache in his chest growing as he watched you leave. There was no see you tomorrow or see you again soon—just bye.
He exhaled deeply, his chest tightening as he stared at the closed door, your figure growing smaller in the distance.
The shop felt colder after you left, the faint jingle of the door chime lingering in the air. Jay’s eyes stayed fixed on the spot where you’d stood moments before, his jaw tightening slightly. He barely registered Giselle’s hand sliding into his, her cheerful voice breaking through the sudden heaviness in his chest.
“Who is she?” Giselle asked, her tone light, but the underlying curiosity was unmistakable.
Jay blinked, forcing himself to refocus. “She’s a regular,” he said casually, rubbing the back of his neck. “She’s really into music, so we hit it off talking about records.”
Giselle raised an eyebrow, her perfectly manicured nails tapping against the counter. “You seem close,” she said, her words measured. “She looked… comfortable here.”
Jay hesitated, sensing where this was headed. “She’s just a friend,” he said quickly, though the words felt strangely hollow as they left his mouth.
Giselle didn’t reply immediately, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly as if she were trying to read between the lines. “Hmm. A friend, huh?” She let the word hang in the air before shrugging, a smile spreading across her lips. “Well, as long as that’s all she is.”
But Jay felt the weight of her gaze, even as she moved to pick up a vinyl from the shelf. For a moment, he considered telling her more—explaining the connection you two had, how effortless it felt—but something stopped him. Maybe it was the way Giselle leaned into him, her confidence unwavering, or maybe it was the faint trace of guilt bubbling in his chest.
As they left the shop together, Giselle chatting animatedly about her plans for the evening, Jay found his thoughts drifting back to you. He replayed the look on your face when he introduced Giselle—the flicker of pain you tried so hard to mask. It had been subtle, but it was there, and it gnawed at him.
You, on the other hand, were trying to pull yourself together as you walked briskly down the dimly lit street. The ache in your chest was sharp, but you scolded yourself for feeling it. How could you have let yourself get so carried away?
Of course, Jay had a girlfriend—someone stunning, confident, and poised, someone who seemed perfect for him. What had you been thinking? That you, with your hesitant smiles and awkward jokes, could be someone special to him?
Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and for a moment, you thought it might be Jay. But it wasn’t—it was a message from Sunghoon, your classmate about an upcoming project. Letting out a shaky breath, you tucked your phone away and kept walking, refusing to let yourself look back toward the shop.
Later that night, Jay sat on the edge of his bed, his phone in his hand. Giselle had fallen asleep beside him, her even breathing filling the quiet room. He stared at the screen, debating whether to text you.
A part of him knew he shouldn’t. He had no reason to—no justification for reaching out beyond the nagging feeling in his chest that he couldn’t shake. But as his thumb hovered over your name in his contacts, he stopped himself.
Instead, he locked his phone and leaned back, staring up at the ceiling. Giselle shifted slightly beside him, murmuring something in her sleep, and he turned his head to look at her. She was beautiful, kind, and everything he thought he wanted.
So why couldn’t he stop thinking about the way your voice had trembled when you said goodbye?
And why, when he closed his eyes, was it your face that lingered in his mind?
It had been a month since you stopped visiting Jay at the record shop. Neither of you had reached out—no texts, no calls, no accidental run-ins. On the surface, everything seemed normal. You fell back into your routine: hanging out with your friends, spinning the same familiar vinyl records, letting music fill the void. But deep down, you knew it wasn’t the same.
How could it be, when your thoughts kept drifting back to him? The silver-haired boy with warm, expressive eyes. The boy whose dimple only appeared on his left cheek when he smiled. The boy with that small, barely noticeable mole between his brows, leaning slightly to the left.
You couldn't forget him, no matter how hard you tried.
Many nights, your thumb hovered over his contact, debating whether to message him. Maybe you could send a song—something by Mac Miller, perhaps—and pretend it didn’t mean anything. But each time, you stopped yourself.
He had Giselle. He was happy with her. And who were you to ruin that?
Sighing, you locked your phone and let it fall onto your bed, as the second verse of Daniel Caesar’s Valentina played softly in the background. The lyrics seemed to mock your longing, your hesitation, your inability to move on.
Across town, Jay was struggling with his own thoughts.
Every shift at the shop felt emptier without you. Every time the door chimed, his head snapped up, hoping—praying—to see the girl with the mole on her neck, the one that matched his birthmark, just on the opposite side.
You.
The girl who had the same music taste as him. The girl who loved mint chocolate despite his protests.
Jay knew it was wrong—so wrong—to be thinking of you while Giselle stood by his side. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop.
He remembered the way your eyes lit up when he handed you that vinyl, the soft smile you gave him as you watched him play the guitar. Those moments played on a loop in his mind, haunting him with what could’ve been.
His shoulders slumped every time the door opened, only to reveal someone else. You were nowhere to be found. And the shop—once his sanctuary—felt hollow without you there.
It was strange, this emptiness that had taken root in his chest. You weren’t just a customer or a casual friend. You had seen him. The real him. Not the charming, silver-haired boy everyone else knew, but the boy who could talk for hours about Oasis, who played guitar on quiet afternoons, who laughed at stupid arguments about ice cream flavors.
You had understood him in a way that no one else did—not even Giselle.
And now, you were gone.
Days turned into weeks, and Jay started to believe he’d never see you again. Maybe you hated him. Maybe you were angry that he hadn’t told you about Giselle sooner.
Or maybe he had imagined the connection altogether.
But the memory of the sadness in your eyes that day—your voice strained when you said goodbye—stuck with him. It made him wonder. Did you like me?
The thought filled him with equal parts hope and guilt.
Jay sighed, dragging a hand through his silver hair as he stared out the shop window. The world outside seemed as distant as the one he shared with you, the one that had slipped away before he even realized how much it mattered.
He wanted to see you again.
But did you feel the same?
The air in the record shop felt heavier these days. Jay had tried to distract himself, pouring his energy into curating the shelves, perfecting his playlists, and helping customers find hidden gems. But none of it filled the quiet void you’d left behind.
One evening, as the shop neared closing, Jay sat on the wooden stool where he used to play Veronica for you. He strummed absentmindedly, his fingers faltering on the chords. “Beside You” by Keshi came to mind, and he played the opening notes, but the melody felt hollow without you there to listen.
“Why does it feel like I lost something I never even had?” he muttered to himself, letting his hands fall into his lap.
You thought you’d have to get over Jay in your own time, quietly and painfully. But apparently, your friends had other plans.
“Y/N, we’re going to Park Me Up,” Jake announced after class, his voice brimming with excitement as you zipped up your bag.
You froze for a moment, trying to think of an excuse. “Oh, I, uh… I need to go somewhere. To buy cupcakes,” you blurted out, wincing at how unconvincing it sounded even to you.
Jake gave you a deadpan look before his lips curved into a playful pout, his puppy-dog eyes locking onto yours.
“Aw, come on, Y/N! Ning Ning needs our help picking out a gift for Beomgyu. His bandmates decided on a guitar for his birthday, and she’s clueless. It’ll be fun! Don’t be a party pooper,” he said, clasping your hand for dramatic effect.
Before you could protest further, Ning Ning and Sunoo appeared out of nowhere, already hyped about the plan. They didn’t even give you a chance to escape—Jake grabbed one arm, Sunoo grabbed the other, and Ning Ning cheerfully led the way.
“Guys, I really don’t think I should—”
“Too late, Y/N!” Ning Ning sang, ignoring your protests.
You sighed in defeat, letting them drag you toward the destination. Park Me Up wasn’t just any guitar shop—it was Jay’s guitar shop.
The thought sent a wave of dread through you.
The shop was just as you remembered it: cozy, filled with the scent of polished wood and vinyl records. The familiar bell jingled as the four of you stepped inside.
You scanned the counter immediately, your heart pounding, but Jay wasn’t there. Instead, his uncle, Peter, stood behind the register, greeting your group with a warm smile.
“Welcome in, folks! Let me know if you need any help. Oh, hey, Y/N, haven’t seen you around lately. Jay’s been chewing my ear off asking if you’ve stopped by. Pretty sure his neck must be sore from how much he cranes it looking for you,” Peter teased.
Jay? He’s been looking for me? Why? A flush crept up your cheeks, your heart racing even faster at the thought of Jay being nearby.
Your friends glanced at you in confusion as you hovered awkwardly near the entrance, trying to stay out of sight.
“Jay?” Danielle tilted her head curiously, while Sunoo snickered.
“Jay’s my nephew,” Peter explained, leaning casually against the counter. “He and Y/N here hit it off pretty well. She was here so often, I was even considering paying her for helping out around the shop.”
His warm eyes sparkled with amusement, so reminiscent of Jay’s, but his words left you flustered.
Jake’s brows shot up as he smirked at you, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Ooh, hit it off pretty well, huh?”
“It’s—it’s not like that,” you stammered, voice dropping to a whisper. “Jay has a girlfriend. We just had a lot in common, that’s all.” The word girlfriend cut like a knife, the ache in your chest returning.
Your friends didn’t press further, shrugging it off as they scattered toward the guitar section. But Jake lingered, his brow furrowing as he noticed you rooted in place. Without hesitation, he grabbed your hand, tugging lightly.
“Y/N, come on!” Jake urged. “You’re supposed to be helping!”
Just then, the sound of shuffling from the storage room caught everyone’s attention. A moment later, Jay stumbled out, brushing dust from his silver hair.
“Uncle, did you just mention Y/N? Is she here? I swear i heard her voice,” he asked, his voice quick and eager as his eyes darted around the shop—until they landed on you.
The world seemed to slow as your eyes met his, and your heart leapt into your throat. How was it possible for him to look even better, with the roots of his hair starting to grow out, giving him an effortless charm? You swallowed hard, almost breaking eye contact, afraid Jay might see through the carefully constructed facade you’d built to convince everyone—yourself included—that you were fine. Just like he always did.
His gaze shifted downward to where Jake’s hand still held yours, and you swore you saw something flicker in his expression. His brows furrowed slightly, but was it disappointment? Anger? Defeat? You couldn’t tell, but the uncertainty sent a shiver down your spine.
“Hi! You must be Jay. I’m Y/N’s boyfriend, Jake,” Jake said smoothly, his voice cutting through the silence, his blatant lie delivered with practiced ease. He was testing a theory, watching Jay’s reaction like a scientist observing an experiment.
Jay’s brow furrowed deeply, the tight-lipped smile he’d worn vanishing in an instant. In its place was a frown, his expression growing colder and more guarded by the second. His gaze shifted from you, but not before you noticed the way his jaw clenched and his shoulders tensed. Was he... jealous? Did this really affect him? The questions raced through your mind as you struggled to process the shift in his demeanor.
Your jaw dropped in shock as you turned to Jake, practically yanking your hand out of his grasp. “He’s not my boyfriend!” you exclaimed, frantically waving your hands in front of your chest as if to dispel the misunderstanding. “I don’t have a boyfriend. He’s just joking! Don’t take it seriously...” Your voice trailed off into an awkward blabber, cheeks flushed as you tried to explain yourself to Jay.
Jake stood to the side, grinning knowingly as he watched the scene unfold. His eyes flicked to Jay, and his suspicions were confirmed when he saw the subtle change in Jay’s posture. The moment you clarified that Jake was joking, Jay’s shoulders eased, and the tension in his jaw loosened, though his guarded expression lingered.
Jake’s grin widened. “Just wanted to see something,” he muttered under his breath, barely loud enough for you to hear, as he stuffed his hands into his pockets.
“Not funny, man,” Jay said, his tone attempting lightness but still laced with a hint of irritation. He glanced briefly at Jake before turning his gaze back to you, his eyes searching yours.
Jake shrugged, clearly unbothered. “Just testing the waters,” he said nonchalantly, giving you a wink. “I’ll leave you two to… whatever this is.” With that, he turned and walked back toward Ning Ning and Sunoo, leaving you alone with Jay.
Jay stepped forward, his movements hesitant, as if testing the waters. “Y/N,” he called softly, his tone laced with a mix of relief and uncertainty.
You stopped, turning to face him. “Hi, Jay,” you replied, trying to keep your voice even despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you.
“It’s been a while,” he said, his hands fidgeting in his pockets. “I… I didn’t think I’d see you again.”
You swallowed hard, your eyes briefly meeting his before darting away. “Yeah, I’ve been… busy.”
Jay took another step closer, the corners of his lips tugging into a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Busy, huh? Too busy to even text?”
His words hit you like a wave, leaving you momentarily speechless. “I thought…” you began hesitantly, your voice barely above a whisper, “I thought it’d be better if I stayed away. You seemed happy. With Giselle.”
Jay’s expression faltered, and he dropped his gaze to the floor, exhaling a slow, measured breath. “Yeah, I’m happy with Giselle,” he admitted quietly, his voice tinged with something you couldn’t quite place. “But that didn’t mean you had to stay away. We’re friends, right?” His tone softened as if he hoped that saying it gently might lessen the weight of the words.
Hearing him confirm his happiness with Giselle was like a dagger to your heart. You nodded numbly, biting your lip in a futile attempt to keep your emotions in check. But your eyes betrayed you, filled with the sadness you desperately tried to hide. It was a cruel reminder that the growing feelings you had for Jay would always be unrequited.
Life seemed to take away the one good thing you had just when you started to believe in it again. You knew better than to come between Jay and Giselle. You knew better than to linger in his life, where your feelings would only deepen, making it harder to pull away. But how could you not fall for him? How could you resist the silver-haired boy who made your heart race, who smelled like cedar and coffee, whose hair fell into his face as he played your favorite songs with that endearing focus?
A bitter laugh escaped your lips, masking the sound of your heart breaking. “I know I might not mean anything to you,” you began, voice trembling, “and you might not even care, but I don’t think I can stay friends with you, Jay.” Your words cracked as tears threatened to spill. “Because I know I’d just keep falling for you. And you have Giselle. I’m glad you’re happy with her. I don’t want to ruin the good thing you have in your life.”
Your voice dropped to a whisper, but the quiver betrayed the storm raging inside you. Jay’s eyes snapped to yours, his face softening as he registered the raw emotion you couldn’t conceal. You were on the brink of breaking, and both of you knew it.
Jay’s eyes widened as your words sank in, the color draining from his face. He took a small step closer, his hand twitching like he wanted to reach for you but stopped himself. “Y/N,” he started, his voice cracking. “It’s not… it’s not like that.”
You forced a smile, though your trembling lips betrayed the façade. “It’s okay, Jay,” you said softly, your voice laced with heartbreak. “You don’t have to explain. You don’t owe me anything.”
Jay opened his mouth, but no words came out. His heart ached at the sight of you—so vulnerable, so heartbreakingly honest. He felt like the worst kind of person, watching you lay your emotions bare before him, offering your heart only for him to crush it. And the worst part? He knew you anticipated his response. You always understood him too well, the uncanny compatibility between you two making it all the harder for him to let this moment pass.
But before he could say anything, you spoke again, your voice trembling with raw emotion. “I think…” you began, your tone fragile, “I think it’s best for us to just leave this as it is, Jay.”
Your words came out as a plea, each one pulling at his chest. You blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears from falling, but the strain in your voice betrayed how close you were to breaking. Sniffling quickly, you kept your gaze fixed on the ground, refusing to look at him. You couldn’t bear to see the pity—or worse, indifference—in his eyes.
“I wish you well, Jay,” you choked out, barely managing to suppress a sob as you turned to leave, each step away from him feeling like it might break you entirely.
Jay froze, the words lodging in his throat as he watched you crumble before him. He wanted to reach out, to pull you into his arms and tell you that you were wrong—that he didn’t want to leave things like this. But your trembling voice, laced with heartbreak, stopped him in his tracks.
“Y/N…” he whispered, his voice laden with desperation, as if searching for the right words to hold you there. His mind raced, trying to form an explanation, an excuse—anything to stop you from walking away.
But you shook your head quickly, a silent plea for him not to make this even harder. “Don’t, Jay. Please,” you interrupted, your voice trembling, your resolve wavering as the words hung in the air.
He froze, his throat tightening at the finality in your tone.
Jay’s chest tightened, the weight of your words suffocating him. “You weren’t wrong,” he said, his voice breaking. “You weren’t wrong about us.”
You offered him a sad smile, one that didn’t reach your eyes. “But it doesn’t matter, does it?”
He stepped closer, his presence warm yet hesitant, his hand hovering just inches from yours. For a moment, it seemed like he might take your hand, his fingers twitching with an unspoken yearning. But he hesitated, his hand lingering in the air, uncertain and desperate. It was as if he wasn’t sure if he had the right to hold onto you, to ask you to stay.
“It matters to me,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper, but the weight of his words carried straight to your heart. His gaze burned into yours, raw and unguarded, his emotions laid bare. “You matter to me, but not in the way you want it to be. ”
The vulnerability in his tone, the way his voice cracked slightly at the end, made your breath catch. You wanted to believe him, wanted to trust those words, but the pain in your chest reminded you of the boundaries that couldn’t be crossed. Still, his proximity, the sincerity in his eyes, made it harder to walk away.
Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you let yourself believe him. But the hurt was too deep, the scars too fresh. You knew you mattered, just not the way you wanted it to be. You took a step back, creating a physical barrier between you that mirrored the emotional one you were building.
“Bye, Jay,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you turned and walked away.
Jay stood there, rooted to the spot, watching you leave for the second time. He wanted to chase after you, to tell you everything he couldn’t put into words, but his feet refused to move. He could only watch as the person who had come to mean so much to him disappeared from his life, leaving him with a hollow ache in his chest and the echoes of what could have been.
For both of you, the goodbye felt final, even though your hearts whispered that it didn’t have to be.
Your friends exchanged bewildered glances, their confusion palpable, but you didn’t turn back. You couldn’t. With each step, the weight of your feelings threatened to crush you, but you forced yourself forward, knowing it was the only way to protect your heart.
“Hey, Jay,” Jake started cautiously, his voice steady but low. “What just happened?”
Jay’s gaze remained fixed on the door you’d just walked through, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. He couldn’t bring himself to answer. How could he possibly explain what had just transpired?
Sunoo sighed, placing a hand on Jake’s shoulder. “I think we should give them space,” he said softly, gesturing toward the door. “Let’s go check on Y/N.”
The group nodded in agreement, leaving Jay standing there, his silver hair catching the dim light of the shop. His uncle’s voice broke the silence.
“Jay,” Peter said gently, coming out from behind the counter. “You care about her, don’t you?”
Jay’s shoulders slumped, and he let out a shaky breath. “Yeah,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “I do.”
Peter gave him a sympathetic look, his brow furrowing in thought. “Then maybe it’s time you figure out what you really want. Don’t let her slip away without a fight, Jay. Not if she means this much to you.”
Jay nodded, but his heart felt heavy. He didn’t know if he deserved to fight for you after everything he’d put you through. But he did know one thing—losing you felt like losing a part of himself.
As the shop grew quiet again, Jay sat down on the stool, his hand instinctively reaching for Veronica. He strummed a few chords aimlessly, his mind replaying every moment he’d shared with you. The sound of the door chime echoed in the background, but this time, it wasn’t you walking through. It was emptiness, a reminder of what he had just lost.
Months had slipped by, yet Jay was still a ghost in your thoughts. You told yourself you were over him—that time and distance had healed the wound. But every now and then, a memory of his warm smile or the shared laughter over an inside joke would surface, and you couldn’t help but chuckle softly to yourself. It was fleeting, but the ache it brought lingered.
You convinced yourself you’d moved on. After all, you no longer visited the shop, no longer hovered over his contact late at night. But distance, as they say, often makes the heart grow fonder. Deep down, you knew your feelings for Jay weren’t just a fleeting crush or infatuation. They were deeper, more real than you wanted to admit.
On days when the ache felt unbearable, you found yourself wandering near the record shop. You told yourself it was coincidence, that it wasn’t intentional. But each time, your gaze would be drawn to the glass panel, and there he was. Sometimes he’d sit at the counter, lost in thought, his lips forming a soft pout. Other times, he’d strum Veronica on the stool where you used to sit, or move around the shop, chatting animatedly with customers.
And sometimes, just sometimes, it felt like he sensed your presence. His head would turn suddenly, eyes scanning the street. Your heart would leap, and you’d duck behind a pillar, pulse racing as if caught in a forbidden act. Surely, he hadn’t seen you. Right?
Eventually, you stopped. Sunoo, ever the voice of reason, had convinced you that spying from a distance wouldn’t help you move on. You listened. Or at least, you tried.
But Jay had noticed. Every time you came, he saw you—your wide eyes peeking around the corner, the way you hurriedly hid whenever he looked up. He felt a pull to step outside, to call your name, to close the distance between you. Yet, he held back. He told himself it wasn’t fair—to you, to Giselle, to the delicate balance of their lives. He was happy with Giselle—or at least, that’s what he repeated to himself.
So why did thoughts of you creep in when he wasn’t paying attention? Why did he catch himself searching for your laugh in the shop’s quiet, or remembering the way your eyes lit up when he played your favorite song? Could it be that he was falling for you too?
When he realized you’d stopped coming entirely, the tightening in his chest was unbearable. Did you finally move on? Had you met someone who played the guitar better than he could? Someone who shared your love for mint chocolate? The idea was suffocating, but he couldn’t shake it.
And for the first time in a long while, Jay wasn’t sure if he’d made the right choice.
One evening, Jay and Giselle went out for dinner, a rare chance to unwind amidst their busy schedules. After their meal, Giselle beamed, her eyes lighting up as she suggested, “Let’s grab some ice cream. There’s a new shop just down the block.”
Jay nodded, following her lead as they strolled into the cozy shop, the warm lights and cheerful atmosphere inviting them in. The server greeted them with a bright smile. “Welcome! Would you like to try our new flavors?” they asked enthusiastically, motioning to the chalkboard menu listing options in colorful script.
As Giselle scanned the choices, debating between strawberry basil and caramel pretzel, Jay’s eyes drifted over the menu absentmindedly. When the server turned to him, he surprised himself by blurting out, “I’ll have a cup of mint chocolate, please.”
Giselle’s head snapped toward him, a puzzled expression on her face. “Wait, mint chocolate? Don’t you hate that flavor?” she asked, her voice tinged with amusement and disbelief.
Jay froze for a moment, caught off guard by his own decision. The truth was, he hadn’t been thinking about himself when he ordered. He’d been thinking of you. Memories of your playful arguments over ice cream flooded his mind—how you’d stubbornly defended mint chocolate while accusing him of having the palate of a goat for liking matcha. He could almost hear your voice now, teasing and full of life, and the thought made his lips curl into a faint smile.
“Oh, yeah,” he said, trying to play it off casually. “Y/N used to love mint chocolate. She always said it didn’t taste like toothpaste. One time, I told her matcha was better, and she told me to eat grass instead.”
Giselle laughed softly, though there was a flicker of something in her eyes—curiosity, perhaps, or even unease. “Sounds like you and Y/N had a lot of… interesting debates.”
“Yeah,” Jay admitted, his voice quieter now. He didn’t elaborate, but as he took the first bite of the ice cream, a wave of nostalgia hit him. It was bittersweet, much like the flavor he once swore he disliked.
“I haven’t seen her around the shop lately. Did something happen between the two of you?” Giselle asked, her voice light but her gaze sharp, studying Jay’s reaction.
Jay’s brows furrowed as flashes of memory ran through his mind—your tearful goodbye, the way you’d pulled away from him, the words you’d whispered, so final and resolute. His chest tightened, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. He hated how those memories stirred feelings he couldn’t quite name, feelings that made him want to clutch onto them selfishly, as if preserving them for himself would somehow keep you closer.
“Yeah, uh… we’re not really friends anymore,” Jay said lightly, though his tone betrayed him. The seriousness in his voice, the subtle edge, told Giselle everything she needed to know. “But I don’t really want to talk about it.”
Giselle raised an eyebrow, intrigued but cautious. Jay wasn’t one to dwell on relationships that ended; he always kept his circle small, rarely letting people in. Usually, it was just his longtime friends—Heeseung and Sunghoon—who truly knew him. But you? You had broken through those walls in a matter of weeks. How had you done it?
Even Giselle, who had been dating Jay for months, had taken her time to chip away at his guarded exterior. Yet, with you, it seemed effortless. It gnawed at her—a quiet curiosity mixed with something she didn’t want to name.
Giselle studied Jay’s face, noticing the slight tension in his jaw and the way his grip on the ice cream cup tightened. It was rare for Jay to get so guarded, especially with her. She had always admired his calm and collected demeanor, but this was different. This was about you.
“You don’t want to talk about it?” Giselle repeated softly, her voice gentle but probing. “Jay, you know you can tell me anything, right?”
Jay exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair as if trying to shake off the weight of the conversation. He met Giselle’s gaze, his expression unreadable. “It’s not about not trusting you,” he said carefully. “It’s just... complicated.”
Giselle nodded slowly, though the curiosity in her eyes remained. “Complicated how?” she pressed, her tone still soft but laced with concern.
Jay hesitated, torn between the desire to keep the memories of you to himself and the need to reassure Giselle. “She... meant a lot to me,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, almost as if he were confessing something. “We connected in a way that felt different, you know? But it’s over now. She walked away, and I let her.”
Giselle’s brows furrowed at his words. “Different how?” she asked, the question slipping out before she could stop herself.
Jay paused, searching for the right words. “She just... got me,” he said finally. “In a way that didn’t feel forced or complicated. It was easy. She understood things about me that I didn’t even have to explain.”
Giselle’s heart sank at his honesty. She couldn’t ignore the pang of jealousy that crept into her chest, but she pushed it aside. “And what about us?” she asked, her voice tinged with vulnerability. “Do you feel that way with me?”
Jay’s eyes widened slightly, guilt flashing across his face. “Of course I do,” he said quickly, reaching out to take her hand. “Giselle, you’re amazing. You’re my girlfriend. This isn’t about comparing anyone to you. It’s just... a chapter in my life that I wasn’t expecting, and now it’s closed.”
But even as the words left his lips, Jay couldn’t ignore the hollow ache in his chest. Because while he might have closed that chapter, it didn’t mean he had stopped rereading it in his mind. And the more he tried to convince himself otherwise, the more your name lingered on the tip of his tongue.
You sat in the library with your project partner, Sunghoon, discussing how to split the workload. You realized that, despite his quiet demeanor, Sunghoon was actually pretty funny. He often described himself as a "loud introvert," and the more you got to know him, the more you agreed with that description. He gradually integrated into your friend group, quickly becoming close with everyone.
As school grew busier, you started pushing aside the feelings you had for Jay and focused on your studies. With Sunghoon, you managed to score a high grade on your assignment, leading you both to agree to partner up for every project from then on.
To celebrate the end of the school term, your friend group decided to take a trip to Rome, Italy. Everyone was excited to experience the breathtaking architecture. But, as always, life had other plans.
On your second day in Rome, Sunghoon suggested visiting a vinyl shop he had read about online. It wasn’t surprising; you’d come to learn that Sunghoon shared your love for music and had an appreciation for vintage records.
“I need to grab a gift for a friend,” Sunghoon explained as you both waited for a taxi. “He’s really into vinyls. Works in his uncle’s guitar shop.”
The mention of a guitar shop made you freeze for a moment, Jay’s face flashing in your mind. But you quickly pushed the thought aside. Rome was a big city; there was no way this could be connected.It had been a while since you'd last seen him or even spoken to him, and you couldn't help but wonder how he was doing. But the memory of him telling you that he couldn’t see you as more than a friend still lingered, and it made your heart ache even after all this time.
You were standing outside a café, scanning for a place to sit. You noticed a table with a guy sitting alone, an empty seat across from him. Something about the broad shoulders felt familiar. For a moment, you thought it was Jay, but then you remembered that Jay had silver hair, not black, and you doubted he would be in Rome. But you were completely wrong.
Summoning your courage, you walked over to the boy, tapping him lightly on the shoulder. You tried to sound cheerful, “Hi, I’m so sorry to bother you, but would it be possible to share the table? I’m just waiting for someone.” You flashed your best smile, attempting to appear friendly.
But as soon as he looked up, your breath caught. Sitting at the table with a book in hand was Jay, Jongseong. You gasped in shock, and his surprised gaze met yours.
His gaze shifted from confusion to surprise, and then to something you couldn't quite place—longing? Relief? Happiness?
"Y/N?" Jay's voice was filled with disbelief. "Is that you?"
"Jay? What are you doing here?" you responded, equally shocked. How was he in Rome?
You took a moment to take in his appearance—his silver hair was now dyed back to black, and he wore a pair of black-framed glasses perched on his nose. His outfit was simple: a black shirt, blue jeans, and Rick Owens sneakers, yet somehow he looked even more handsome. You couldn’t help but notice the other female customers in the café subtly glancing in his direction, likely drawn to his effortless charm.
Suddenly, the feelings you had buried for so long began to resurface—faster and more intensely than you had expected. You missed him. You missed him more than you cared to admit. You hadn’t expected to see Jay again, but here he was, in front of you, and everything about this moment felt overwhelming.
When Jay felt a tap on his shoulder, he was expecting it to be Giselle, ready to tell him it was time to go. To be honest, the only reason he was even in Rome was for the vinyls and guitar shops—he knew there would be rare finds, given how long some of the shops had been around.
But he didn’t expect to see you.
You were standing in front of him, wearing a sundress in his favorite color—green. The way you smiled brightly at him, only to pause when you realized it was him, made his chest tighten. You looked so beautiful in that dress, the fabric flowing all the way down to your ankles, making you look like something straight out of a fairy tale. Jay’s heart began to race as he took you in, unable to tear his eyes away.
His mind raced, thoughts colliding with the reality of the situation. How was it possible that after all this time, here you were—standing in front of him in Rome? The emotions he had carefully tucked away began to surface again, sharper than before. The feelings he had suppressed, buried in the quiet moments when he let himself think of you, were now resurfacing with an intensity he wasn’t prepared for.
“I–you–how?” Jay’s voice came out as a strained whisper, his words caught in his throat. He missed you, he truly did. It wasn’t right to feel this way when he had Giselle, but he couldn’t help it. Not when you were standing there, wearing his favorite color, looking so beautiful with the sunlight catching your hair. His heart ached, watching the way your smile faltered after you recognized him.
“I’m here with Giselle,” he said, his voice low, almost as if trying to explain himself, “She wanted to go on a trip.”
The way your eyes dimmed at the mention of her made a sharp pain hit his chest. He didn’t know why it hurt so much, but that wasn’t important right now. He needed to talk to you. He needed to know how you were doing, how school had been, how you were holding up. He wanted to tell you that he had changed his mind about mint chocolate, that he now secretly liked it, and how he couldn’t stop listening to White Ferrari by Frank Ocean because the lyrics reminded him of you. He needed to know if you had moved on from him, if you were okay.
Before he could say any of this, you spoke. “I think I should go. Sorry to bother you. Have a good trip, Jay.” Your voice was soft, and Jay could hear the pain you tried to hide, the yearning that lingered beneath your words. How much you missed talking to him, how much you missed watching him play Veronica.
“Wait—Y/N.” His hand shot out, grabbing your wrist gently but firmly, holding you in place as he stood up.
“Please don’t run away from me again,” Jay’s voice was softer now, but it trembled with vulnerability. The desperation in his words made his chest ache, and the way he looked at you, his gaze so open and raw, left no room for doubt—he needed you to stay.
He knew deep down it was wrong. So, so wrong. But in that moment, all he could think about was how much he longed to see you again.
“Jay? What are you—who’s that? Oh, y/n?” Giselle’s voice sliced through the tension as she neared the two of you, her footsteps faltering slightly as she took in the scene.
Giselle's voice rang out sharply, pulling Jay’s attention toward her. Her eyes, once confident, now flickered with something unsettling. As she got closer, the look of confusion and concern on her face grew. She took in the sight of Jay still holding onto your wrist, the gentle way his fingers were wrapped around you. His gaze was soft, almost pleading, something that made her heart twist. She could feel the weight of the shift in the air, the subtle change in Jay's demeanor, and she knew something was different.
The sight of him looking at you like that, so vulnerable and open, made her stomach churn with unease. Giselle had always been sure of Jay—sure of the way he looked at her, sure of the space he made for her in his life. But now, it felt like something was slipping out of her grasp, something she couldn’t quite define.
She knew about Jay’s past relationships—how his exes would beg him to take them back, and yet he never budged. Jay had always been laidback, never one to push things or chase anyone. He’d let things happen naturally, even if that meant moving on when things got tough. But this? This was different.
As she studied you, her gaze softened just a little, but it was enough for you to feel the shift. She could tell by the way you carried yourself that there was more to your relationship with Jay than just a casual meeting. There was history in the way he held your wrist, in the way his eyes searched yours for something he seemed to have lost. It wasn’t hard to see it now. Giselle had been with Jay for long enough to know the subtleties of his body language, but she had never seen him like this. Never seen him plead with anyone.
The jealousy bubbled up in her chest, rising faster than she could control it. She hated feeling like this, but she couldn’t stop it. The effortless way you had him wrapped around your finger was something she could never seem to achieve. No matter how hard she tried to get close to him, how much effort she put into learning about his music, his favorite bands, his quirks—Jay had always been a little distant, a little elusive, like he was holding something back.
But with you? It was different. The connection was palpable, even if it was unspoken. You had always been able to reach him in ways she couldn’t, and the sight of him wanting to talk to you, to stay with you, made her feel invisible.
As Giselle’s gaze turned bitter, she watched Jay’s grip on your wrist loosen, his hand dropping back to his side, defeated. She saw you step back, but the look in your eyes—mirroring Jay’s longing—was all the confirmation she needed. You weren’t just infatuated with her boyfriend; you were in love with him. You were in love with Jay.
“Y/n, what a coincidence!”
Giselle’s smile was tight, laced with an air of false cheerfulness as she greeted you. The subtle intertwining of her fingers with Jay’s was intentional— a clear display of ownership, a silent message that she wasn’t going anywhere. She wanted you to see it, wanted you to feel the distance between you and Jay, wanted you to know that no matter the history, the connection, or the lingering feelings that might still exist, Jay was hers. And she would make sure you understood that.
Jay’s fingers curled against hers, a motion so small, yet filled with so much meaning. Giselle wasn’t sure if it was a silent reassurance for her or a subtle signal to her, telling her not to overstep, not to push too far. He wasn’t looking at her as much as he was looking at you—his gaze was distant, almost apologetic, as though there was a silent conversation going on between the three of you without words. But Giselle was determined to play her part, to hold onto what she thought was hers.
She watched you, her eyes narrowing just slightly, noticing the way your gaze flickered to their intertwined hands, the way your lips pressed into a thin line as the sadness in your eyes became undeniable. For a moment, Giselle felt a flicker of guilt. She could see it in your eyes—the resignation, the hurt, the unspoken words. But that flicker was fleeting, quickly buried beneath a layer of pride and possessiveness.
She watched your expression falter, the realization hitting that the distance between you and Jay was no longer something you could ignore. The subtle disappointment in your face was enough for her to feel a cruel satisfaction. It was like the pieces of a puzzle falling into place. Giselle wasn’t stupid—she could read the way Jay’s body language changed when he was around you, the way his eyes lingered a little too long, the way his tone softened. She could feel it now—the same undercurrent of something that had once been hers. And she wasn’t about to let that slip away without a fight.
The quiet ache in her chest was still there, but it was drowned out by the heat of her jealousy, her insecurity, her need to win. And if that meant pushing you to your breaking point, to make you feel as small and as invisible as possible, then she was willing to do whatever it took. You weren’t going to be the one to take him away. Not after all the effort she had put in to build her life with him.
As Giselle turned her head to kiss Jay on the lips, she heard the small gasp escape from you, and in that moment, she knew she had won.
Your heart shattered, watching Giselle kiss Jay. You wished it could be you, to hold his hand, to feel his arms around you, to feel his lips against yours. But that would never happen, not when all Jay saw you as was a friend. You wanted to turn and walk away, but the ache in your chest kept you rooted to the ground, helplessly watching the scene before you.
Silently, you prayed for someone—anyone—to pull you from the situation. It felt like the universe answered your silent plea when Sunghoon arrived.
“Y/n, let’s go—Jay?” Sunghoon’s voice called out, confusion creeping into his tone as he noticed Jay standing in front of you.
“Hoon?” Jay responded, just as confused, wondering how you and Sunghoon knew each other.
“What are you doing here?” Both of them asked in unison.
“I’m here with Giselle for a holiday. You? How’d you know Y/n?” Jay cleared his throat, trying to keep things lighthearted, though his voice held an edge of protectiveness that Giselle quickly noticed.
Sunghoon glanced back and forth between you and Jay before offering Giselle a polite smile in greeting.
“You guys know each other? Y/n, that’s the friend I told you about who works at a guitar shop. That’s Jay,” Sunghoon explained, oblivious to the tension in the air.
Ah, so they were friends.
Before anyone could say another word, Giselle cut through the silence, her voice a little too bright. “Oh my god, are you guys dating? Jay, look at their matching bracelet! It’s so cute. Should we get one too?” She gestured toward the friendship bracelet that Jungwon had made your whole friend group get, but since the others weren’t around, it made it look like you and Sunghoon were a couple.
Jay’s breath hitched. Were you dating Sunghoon now? How did he not know about this? Sunghoon had never mentioned anything about you when they hung out. Why were you alone with him?
You wanted to explain, to deny the accusation, because it felt wrong to even entertain the thought of being with someone other than Jay. But as your eyes locked with Giselle’s, she gave you a look that made it clear what she was trying to do. You could feel the guilt washing over you. No matter how hard you tried to distance yourself from Jay, the pull was still there.
So, with a heavy heart, you nodded and whispered, “Yeah, we’ve been dating for a while now. We’re in the same class, and we got closer.” You rushed the words out, hoping they sounded convincing.
Sunghoon looked down at you, his brow furrowing in confusion, but he knew better than to expose your lie in front of everyone now. He played along, extending his hand to hold yours.
“Sorry I didn’t tell you guys sooner. I just wanted to find the right time to properly introduce her,” Sunghoon lied smoothly, glancing at Jay.
The weight of the lie you just told settled heavily in your chest. Every word felt like a betrayal, not just to Jay, but to yourself. You could see the confusion flicker in his eyes, the way his lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to ask more, to understand, but he couldn’t. Instead, he swallowed whatever questions he had, and his gaze drifted to Sunghoon, his brows furrowed.
Giselle, on the other hand, was smiling too brightly. She was the one who had won, the one who had forced your hand. Her expression was smug, satisfied as she watched the situation unfold. When you nodded and agreed with her assumption, it was like she had claimed her victory. The small, almost imperceptible twitch in Jay's expression wasn’t enough to make her question her dominance. Instead, she looked between the two of you, a thin veil of sweetness hiding the bitterness she felt beneath the surface.
Jay couldn’t look at you directly. He turned to Sunghoon, his voice casual, yet there was a hint of uncertainty in it. "I didn’t know you two were... close," he said, the words like they were heavier than they sounded.
You couldn’t help but feel like you were suffocating. Every part of you wanted to reach out to Jay, to tell him the truth, to explain that you never intended for this to happen. That it wasn’t about Sunghoon at all. But Giselle’s gaze held you firmly in place, daring you to break, daring you to unravel.
Sunghoon’s hand on yours felt oddly comforting, but it couldn’t block out the ache in your chest. He squeezed your hand, the pressure there like a silent reassurance. He had always been protective, always there for you when you needed someone. But even in this moment, his presence felt like it wasn’t enough to shield you from the heaviness of the lie. The guilt gnawed at you, the burden of keeping up this façade pulling you further away from the truth.
"Right," Jay said finally, his voice quieter now. He gave a small nod, but it was clear that something was weighing on him. His gaze flickered back to you briefly, but you couldn’t meet his eyes. You couldn’t bear to.
Giselle leaned in a little closer to Jay, her fingers tightening around his. "Well, if you’re all set, I think we should go, baby. We have a lot of things to do, don’t we?" Her tone was overly sweet, but it cut through the tension like a knife. She was reminding everyone who Jay was with, reminding you where you stood.
You nodded, your heart sinking deeper into your chest. "Yeah, you should go. I should go too," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.
Sunghoon gave you a gentle nudge, his thumb brushing against the back of your hand, and you took a step away, trying to escape the suffocating atmosphere. But as you turned away, you caught one last glimpse of Jay—his face unreadable, his body tense. He was still holding onto something, still fighting the pull between you and Giselle, between what was real and what had to be hidden.
You turned your back before your emotions could get the best of you, walking away with Sunghoon by your side. But even as you put distance between yourself and that moment, you knew the lie you had told wouldn’t just fade. It was going to hang over you, a shadow you wouldn’t be able to outrun. And Jay? Well, you had no idea where things stood with him anymore. But you knew one thing for sure—everything had just become so much more complicated.
“What was that?” Sunghoon asked softly once you were out of sight of the couple.
“I didn’t know you two were friends,” you mumbled, your gaze fixed on the ground. “I met Jay when I visited the guitar shop he worked at. We got along really well, and I...” You hesitated, your voice faltering. Sunghoon’s reassuring nod gave you the courage to continue.
“And I fell for him,” you admitted quietly. “But then I found out he was dating Giselle. I tried to move on, Sunghoon. I really did. But now, seeing him here in Rome... it’s like all those feelings are coming back, stronger than before.”
Your voice dropped to a near-whisper, trembling with emotion. “I think I’m in love with him, Sunghoon. But I can’t have him, and it hurts so much.”
Sunghoon stopped walking, his expression serious as he took in your words. He didn't interrupt, letting you speak your heart, and when you finished, there was a long pause. You could feel the weight of the silence between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.
He let out a quiet sigh before looking at you with understanding eyes, his tone soft. “I had no idea you felt that way about Jay,” he said slowly. “I could tell something was off, but I didn’t know it went this deep. You don’t have to carry this burden alone, Y/n.”
You looked up at him, the vulnerability in your eyes showing the rawness of your feelings. "I feel so stupid," you admitted, "for letting myself fall for someone who’s already with someone else. And now I don’t know what to do. I can’t just… turn it off. But seeing him with Giselle, holding her hand, it was like a slap in the face."
Sunghoon’s expression softened, his voice firm and caring. “You’re not stupid, Y/n. Love isn’t something you can control. You can’t just turn it off because it’s inconvenient. And I know it hurts to see him with her, but you have to remember that his relationship with Giselle doesn’t define you. You deserve someone who sees you the way you see them, someone who won’t make you feel like second place.”
You closed your eyes, the weight of his words settling in. You wanted so badly to be that person for Jay, but the reality of the situation made it feel impossible.
“I know,” you whispered. “But it doesn’t change how I feel.”
“I get it,” Sunghoon replied quietly. “And you’re allowed to feel that way. But you have to focus on healing, Y/n. If you keep holding onto something that isn’t yours, it’s only going to hurt more in the long run.” He paused, watching you carefully. “You deserve someone who’s going to choose you, not someone who’s already made their choice.”
Your chest tightened as Sunghoon’s words echoed in your mind. You nodded slowly, but a part of you still longed for something that seemed so far out of reach.
“I don’t know if I can move on from him, Sunghoon,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper.
Sunghoon gently squeezed your hand. “You don’t have to right away. But take it one day at a time. You’ll get through this, Y/n. And no matter what happens, I’m here for you, okay?”
You gave him a small, grateful smile, the first one in what felt like a long time. "Thank you, Hoon. I really needed to hear that."
Jay couldn’t focus on anything Giselle was saying because his thoughts were consumed by you: the way you looked in that green dress, the brightness of your smile. He had always thought he was good at making decisions, at choosing the right path. But sitting alone in a café in Rome, he realized that when it came to you, he didn’t even know what the right thing was anymore.
“Are you falling for her?” Giselle’s voice broke through his thoughts, sharp and accusing. She stared at him, waiting for an answer.
Usually, Jay would have shaken his head defensively, pouring extra effort into reassuring her—just as he always did when she questioned his feelings. But this time, he couldn’t.
When Jay started dating Giselle, he thought she was the one. He pictured himself ten years down the road, marrying her, starting a family. That vision had seemed so clear and solid. But now, everything was blurry. Everything was you.
His head hung low in shame and guilt. He couldn’t bring himself to meet her gaze or deny it. He didn’t want to lie to himself anymore, and he didn’t want to lie to Giselle either.
The sight of Jay’s silence, his lowered head, shattered something inside Giselle. She felt her heart plummet, realizing what he wasn’t saying aloud—that he was starting to fall for someone else, and it was happening right in front of her eyes.
Hurt and sadness flickered across her face as she looked at him. She wasn’t ready to let him go. Not yet. She had loved him dearly and used to feel so secure in their relationship. She never had to question his loyalty or love. Jay had always been kind, warm, respectful—a man anyone would admire. He had been her perfect match.
But then you came into his life, and everything changed. You unraveled their relationship without even trying. She could see it in the way Jay’s face lit up when he talked about you, in the private jokes he’d share that only the two of you could understand. Even when they were out together, he would somehow bring you up.
There were nights when insecurity gnawed at her, especially when she noticed how his shoulders slumped as if he were expecting someone else to walk through the door—someone who wasn’t her. She knew, deep down, that he was looking for you.
Frustration and anger consumed her, and eventually, those feelings overwhelmed her guilt. She sought solace elsewhere. Intak had been a distraction, a way to fill the void left by Jay’s drifting attention. Initially, she felt guilty about going out with Intak while still with Jay, but over time, she convinced herself it wasn’t her fault. It was your fault.
You had turned Jay’s head. You had ruined what they had. And now, standing there, she could feel her anger boiling over, fueled by the bitterness of knowing she had been losing him long before this moment.
“Giselle…” he finally murmured, his voice low and uneven. He looked up, and the heartbreak in her eyes made his chest tighten painfully. “I—I don’t know what to say.”
Jay felt the weight of Giselle’s silence as it stretched between them, the tension thick and suffocating. He could feel her gaze boring into him, searching for answers he wasn’t ready to give. He didn’t have the courage to look at her, his shame tethering him to the ground, keeping his eyes fixed on the polished table in front of him.
The truth was messy, tangled in emotions he didn’t want to acknowledge. He knew it wasn’t fair to Giselle, and he hated himself for it. She didn’t deserve this—not the doubt, not the hesitation, not the betrayal that lingered unspoken between them.
Giselle let out a shaky breath, her hands clenched into fists on her lap. “Do you even realize what you’ve done to me, Jay? Do you know how hard I’ve fought for us, for this relationship, while you—” Her voice broke again, and she took a moment to steady herself. “While you were busy thinking about her?”
Jay flinched at the accusation, the raw truth cutting deeper than he expected. He wanted to deny it, to tell her that it wasn’t like that, but he couldn’t. He didn’t have the right to argue when he knew she was right.
Her words hung heavy in the air, and Jay felt like he couldn’t breathe. He wanted to say something, anything, to make it better, but every word felt hollow, insincere. He could only sit there, his mind racing with thoughts of you, of Giselle, of the tangled mess he had created.
“Do you love her?” Giselle asked suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Jay froze, the question hitting him like a punch to the gut. Love? The word echoed in his mind, stirring up feelings he wasn’t ready to confront. He didn’t know how to answer. All he knew was that when he thought of you, his heart felt full and aching all at once, and the thought of losing you—of never seeing you again—made it hard to breathe.
“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice cracking. “But I think…I think I could.”
Giselle’s breath hitched, and she stood abruptly, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. “I can’t do this right now,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. She grabbed her bag and stormed out of the café, leaving Jay sitting there, alone and drowning in the weight of his guilt and confusion.
For the first time, he wondered if he’d already lost everything he thought he wanted—and if you were the one he’d been searching for all along.
Jay watched Giselle’s silhouette disappear into the distance, a heavy weight settling in his chest. He should feel relief, should focus on being the boyfriend she deserved—but his thoughts were tangled, knotted around you. If he truly loved Giselle, there wouldn’t be room for this ache, this restless longing that clawed at him every time he thought of you.
You weren’t his. You never were. And now you were with Sunghoon, his best friend. It should have been easy to let you go, to convince himself that you belonged to someone else. But watching you walk away again felt like someone had ripped a piece of him out, leaving behind a hollow that pulsed with a dull, relentless pain.
Jay told himself he needed to stop. Stop complicating things, stop dreaming of something that could never be. Maybe you were always destined to be a "what if," a fleeting possibility that would haunt him for years to come. He owed it to Giselle to be better, to finally close the door on these feelings. But before he could force himself to let go, he needed to see you one last time.
Later that night, just as you were trying to convince yourself to sleep, your phone buzzed. The screen lit up with a message from Jay.
“Hey, can we talk?”
Your chest tightened. You stared at the words, your hands trembling as you debated your response. Another text followed almost immediately:
“Please.”
The desperation in that one word hit you like a punch to the gut. You wanted to say no, to protect yourself, to end this painful cycle before it broke you completely. But what right did you have to talk to Jay? You weren’t friends, weren’t lovers. You were barely even anything at all anymore.
Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, the tears already falling as you typed:
“Jay, we can’t. This isn’t right. Please don’t make this harder than it already is. We’re both happy. Maybe it’s time to put an end to this.”
You stared at the message, knowing how false it was. Happy? How could you call this agony happiness? The boy you loved was in someone else’s arms, and yet here you were, lying to him and to yourself.
The moment you hit send, your phone rang. Jay’s name flashed on the screen, and your heart lurched violently. You answered, your voice barely above a whisper.
“Hello?”
“Y/N, I’m— I’m downstairs. At your hotel,” Jay’s voice came through, rushed and uneven, like he was struggling to breathe. “I asked Sunghoon. I’m sorry, but I need to see you. Just for a while… please?”
His words were frantic, pleading. You could hear the urgency, the raw edge to his voice that shattered what little resolve you had left.
“I’ll wait until you come down,” he added, his voice softer now, almost broken, before hanging up.
You gripped your phone tightly, your heart a storm of emotions you couldn’t contain. You hated him for doing this to you, for making it impossible to stay away. But more than that, you hated yourself for never being able to say no to him. Jay was your weakness, your undoing. He was the boy who had stolen your heart so effortlessly and left you with nothing but pain in its place.
Before you knew it, your feet carried you out the door, down the elevator, and into the night. Each step felt heavier than the last, the weight of your emotions pressing down on you.
When you reached the street, you saw him immediately. He was leaning against the wall, head hung low, his hands nervously twisting the jacket he held. As you approached, trying to keep your steps quiet, his head snapped up, his eyes finding yours instantly.
For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence between you felt deafening, loaded with everything you couldn’t say. The world around you faded, the hum of the city dimming as the two of you stood there, suspended in time.
The soft glow of the streetlamp illuminated his face, highlighting the tension in his jaw and the storm in his eyes. He looked at you like you were both the answer to every question and the reason for every problem. And you hated how much you wanted to fall apart right there, in front of him, just to feel his arms catch you.
But you knew better. This was a game you could never win, and yet here you were, ready to lose all over again.
Before you could even process what was happening, Jay closed the distance between you, his hands cradling your face with a mix of urgency and tenderness before his lips crashed onto yours. The kiss was electric, chaotic, and raw, filled with emotions that neither of you had been able to express in words. His lips moved fervently against yours, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, and you felt the weight of his desperation, longing, guilt, and frustration pouring into every movement.
You froze at first, your mind screaming at you to push him away. This was wrong—so, so wrong. He had a girlfriend. You had Sunghoon. This moment wasn’t supposed to exist, and yet, as his warmth enveloped you, you found yourself unable to resist.
You weren’t supposed to enjoy the way his lips felt on yours, the way they ignited a fire in you that you’d tried so hard to extinguish. You weren’t supposed to let your hands drift up to clutch at his shirt, pulling him closer as though he was the only thing keeping you grounded. But you did.
The world around you disappeared, and all that remained was Jay—his touch, his breath, his presence overwhelming you entirely. Your lips moved against his with the same frantic energy, your emotions spilling out in a silent confession. You kissed him back with everything you had, trying to imprint this moment into your memory because deep down, you knew it wouldn’t last.
This wasn’t yours to keep. This wasn’t yours at all. And yet, for this fleeting moment, you allowed yourself to believe that it could be. Tonight, you let yourself forget the consequences, the heartbreak waiting just beyond the glow of the streetlamp. Tonight, you gave yourself to Jay completely, even as your heart fractured under the weight of knowing that this would only ever be a stolen moment.
The world seemed to blur around you as Jay’s lips moved against yours. The cold night air faded, replaced by the heat of the moment, the intensity of emotions you both tried so hard to suppress. His hands were warm, firm yet tender as they cradled your face, grounding you in the whirlwind of feelings you had been running from for so long.
But the weight of reality loomed over you like a shadow, tugging at your conscience even as your heart begged you to stay in this fleeting moment. The kiss was a storm—fierce, unrelenting, and consuming—but you knew storms always passed, leaving devastation in their wake.
“Jay,” you gasped, breaking away, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Your hands, still clutching his shirt, trembled as you looked up at him. His eyes were dark, searching yours for answers, for reassurance, for anything to justify what had just happened.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, but his hands didn’t leave your face. “I just... I couldn’t hold back anymore.”
You shook your head, tears welling up as the weight of what had just happened crashed over you. “This isn’t right, Jay. We can’t do this,” you said, your voice cracking. “You have Giselle. And me—I’m with Sunghoon.” The words felt hollow, but you forced them out, hoping to remind both of you of the lines you’d just crossed.
His jaw tightened at the mention of Sunghoon, and he looked away briefly, as if the thought pained him. “I know,” he said quietly. “I know this is wrong. But I couldn’t stop myself. I needed to see you.” he admitted, his voice laced with regret. “But I can’t stop thinking about you, Y/N. I’ve tried—I’ve tried so hard, but no matter what, you’re always there.”
His confession tore through you, the raw vulnerability in his words igniting something deep within your chest, but the guilt that followed was sharper. “Jay, you don’t understand what this will do to everyone,” you said, wiping at your tears. “This isn’t just about us. Giselle loves you. Sunghoon trusts me. We can’t destroy them for something that might not even last.”
Jay’s jaw tightened, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “Do you really believe that? That this—” he gestured between the two of you, his voice trembling—“is nothing?”
You hesitated, your heart battling your mind, the truth caught in the space between. “I don’t know,” you finally admitted, your voice barely audible. “I don’t know what this is, Jay. But I know it can’t happen like this.”
Jay took a shaky step back, his face falling as the reality of your words sank in. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling deeply as if trying to compose himself. “You’re right,” he said quietly, his tone resigned. “This isn’t fair to anyone.”
You nodded, your chest aching as you watched the boy you loved wrestle with the same emotions tearing you apart. “We need to let this go,” you said, even though the words felt like knives in your throat. “For them. For us.”
Jay looked at you one last time, his eyes filled with sorrow and longing, before nodding slowly. “Goodbye, Y/N,” he said, his voice heavy with finality.
You watched as he turned and walked away, the distance between you growing with each step. You were hoping that he didnt look back, because he would have seen your legs give out, as you sobbed silently, your tears falling freely under the soft glow of the streetlamp.
Tonight was supposed to be the night you let him go, but as you stood there, your heart breaking, you realized letting go was far harder than you could have imagined.
But then, Jay did look back.
He froze when his eyes found you, crouched on the pavement with your head buried in your hands, your shoulders trembling. You weren’t looking at him, but the sight alone cut through him like a blade. He could feel your pain, raw and unrestrained, and it twisted in his chest until he couldn’t breathe.
He knew what this was. He felt it too—the tension, the connection, the pull. But if he felt it so deeply, why couldn’t he take the leap? Why couldn’t he let go of Giselle if every fiber of his being was drawn to you?
Jay knew the answer. Deep down, he was a coward. Afraid of the consequences, afraid of shattering the life he’d built, even if it meant suffocating the part of him that longed for you. He hid behind Giselle, behind the facade of comfort, because facing the truth meant risking everything.
But now, watching you fall apart, something inside him snapped. It was as if an unseen force dragged him back to you. His feet moved before his mind caught up, and suddenly, he was kneeling beside you, his voice trembling as he whispered, “What am I going to do with you?”
His expression was strained, filled with anguish as he reached for you, pulling you into his arms. The warmth of his embrace broke the dam you’d been holding back.
“I missed you so much, Jay,” you sobbed, your voice trembling and raw. “I’m sorry. I know I messed everything up. I complicated things for you, but I’m in love with you. I know you’re not mine to have, but it hurts so much, Jay. I love you, but I know you’re happy with someone else, and I—”
Your words dissolved into breathless cries as Jay tightened his hold on you. His arms wrapped around you as if trying to shield you from the very pain he’d caused, his own silent tears slipping into the night as he held you close. For that moment, the rest of the world didn’t exist—only the two of you, broken and vulnerable under the glow of the streetlamp.
Jay’s heart clenched at your words, each syllable carving deeper into the conflict he carried. He didn’t speak immediately, just held you tighter, his own emotions threatening to spill over as he buried his face in your hair. Your sobs echoed through the quiet street, raw and unfiltered, and for the first time in a long while, he felt utterly powerless.
“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice trembling as he pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your tear-streaked face. His thumb brushed against your cheek, wiping away a stray tear as his own eyes glistened. “I’ve missed you too. More than I should, more than I ever wanted to. You have no idea how many nights I’ve stayed awake thinking about you, wondering what it would be like if things were...different.”
The pain in his voice was undeniable, and it only made your tears fall harder. “Then why, Jay?” you whispered, your voice breaking as you searched his face. “Why can’t we—why can’t you—”
“Because I’m scared,” he admitted, the words spilling out before he could stop them. His voice cracked under the weight of his confession, and he looked away, ashamed. “I’m scared of ruining everything. Of hurting Giselle. Of losing you if this doesn’t work. I don’t know how to let go of her, and I don’t know how to let go of you.”
His honesty only made the ache in your chest grow. You reached out, placing a trembling hand on his cheek, guiding his gaze back to you. “Jay, you can’t have it both ways,” you said softly, your voice heavy with both love and pain. “You have to choose. And if you can’t, then maybe...maybe I have to make the choice for you.”
“No,” Jay said quickly, his hand flying to cover yours. “Don’t. Don’t leave me, Y/N. Please.” The desperation in his tone made your heart twist, but you knew deep down that something had to give.
“I can’t keep holding on to someone who was never mine to begin with, Jay,” you whispered, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “You’re you, and I’m… me. Can’t you see? You’re talented, warm, kind, gentle—and I’m a mess. Giselle… she suits you. She’s beautiful, patient, everything I’m not. You two look perfect together.”
You paused, your breaths shaky as you tried to steady yourself, but the pain in your chest only grew heavier. “I’m so tired, Jay. I’m tired of the nights I lie awake, wishing I could be the one in your arms. I’m tired of being afraid of myself because I want so desperately to be the one you look at with that gentleness in your eyes. I want to be the one who makes you laugh, the girl who loves you with her whole heart.”
Your voice faltered, breaking into a strained whisper as tears streamed down your face. “But I can’t. I can’t be that girl, Jay. I’ll never be her.”
Your sobs softened into quiet sniffles, the silence between you thick and suffocating. You couldn’t bear to look at him, afraid of what you might see—pity, regret, or worse, nothing at all. All the words you’d kept locked inside were now laid bare, and yet, the ache in your chest only deepened, the weight of your unspoken love threatening to crush you.
Jay’s chest tightened with every word you spoke, each one laced with pain, longing, and a finality that made his heart feel like it was being crushed. He reached out for you instinctively, his hands trembling, but he stopped himself, letting them fall to his sides. He knew he had no right to comfort you—not when he was the source of your pain.
“Y/N…” he began, his voice hoarse and broken. “Don’t say that. Please, don’t say that about yourself.” His eyes glistened with unshed tears as he took a shaky step toward you, though the weight of your words kept him from getting too close. “You don’t see what I see, do you? You’re not a mess. You’re—” He swallowed hard, his voice cracking. “You’re everything, Y/N. Everything I didn’t even know I needed. And I hate myself for making you feel like you’re not enough because you are. You always were.”
Your lips trembled as you shook your head, stepping back. “Don’t do this, Jay. Don’t say these things when you know you can’t follow through. You’re with her, and I’m… I’m not a part of that world. I can’t keep pretending like there’s a place for me in your life when all I’m doing is hurting myself.”
He reached out again, his hand hovering near yours before pulling it back, defeated. “I don’t know what to do, Y/N,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m so lost. I thought I had everything figured out, but then you walked into my life, and now—now nothing makes sense. I don’t want to lose you, but I also don’t want to keep hurting you like this. I don’t know how to let go of you, Y/N. I don’t know how to stop wanting you.”
You bit your lip, forcing yourself to stay strong even as his words tore you apart. “You have to,” you said, your voice steady despite the tears streaming down your face. “For both of us. You have to let me go, Jay. Because I can’t keep living like this. I can’t keep loving someone who’s never going to be mine.”
The finality of your words hung heavy in the air, and Jay felt his knees go weak. He wanted to argue, to plead with you to stay, but deep down, he knew you were right. He had been selfish, holding onto you while refusing to make a choice. And now, it was too late.
“Okay,” he whispered, his voice cracking as tears rolled down his cheeks. “Okay, Y/N. If that’s what you need, I’ll—I’ll let you go. But just know that I…” He hesitated, the words caught in his throat. “I’m sorry. For everything. For not being brave enough to choose you. For hurting you. For loving you when I shouldn’t have.”
You nodded, your chest heaving as you tried to steady your breathing. “Goodbye, Jay,” you whispered, the words barely audible but heavy with meaning.
And this time, when you walked away, Jay didn’t follow. He stayed rooted to the spot, watching you disappear into the night, his heart shattered into pieces he wasn’t sure he could ever put back together.
Maybe in another life, maybe in another universe, he would have been the one to hold you close, his arms your safest place. He would have been the one to press soft kisses to your temple, nuzzling his nose against your neck as though the world outside didn’t exist. He would have been the one to wake beside you each morning, his fingers gently brushing through your hair, his gaze filled with the quiet adoration of someone who’d found their forever.
He would have carried you on his back when your legs gave out, laughing at your complaints but never letting go. He would have cooked your favorite meals, waiting for the sound of your keys turning in the door because coming home meant coming back to him. He would have been the one to stand at the end of the aisle, his heart racing as he watched you walk toward him in a gown that made you look like a dream.
He would have been the one you said “I do” to, your voice steady and full of promise. He would have been the one who vowed to hold you through the storms and the sunshine, in moments of joy and in those of despair. For better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health—he would have been the one to love and cherish you until your very last breath.
In another life, in another universe, he would have been the one. But here, in this tangled mess of reality, he could only dream of the love that could have been.
Maybe in another life, Jay thought, the universe would have been kinder to the both of you. In that life, there would be no Giselle, no tangled strings of guilt and confusion, no walls of "what ifs" and "too lates." In that life, he wouldn't have hesitated. He wouldn't have second-guessed every decision, every step closer to you.
He could imagine it so clearly, almost cruelly vivid in his mind. You, standing in the kitchen in the morning light, your laugh filling the air as he teased you about something silly. The way you’d rest your head on his shoulder during quiet moments, your presence a comfort he never knew he needed until it was gone.
He would have been the one to carry you when life got heavy, to wipe away your tears and kiss your worries away. He would have known, deep in his soul, that he didn’t just love you—he belonged with you.
But this wasn’t another life. This wasn’t another universe. And in this one, he had made his choices, and you had made yours. The weight of that reality pressed heavily on his chest, a bitter ache he knew he’d carry for a long time, maybe forever.
As he stood under the same stars that had once seemed to shine so brightly for him, Jay let the tears fall freely, his heart whispering a silent prayer to a world that didn’t exist.
Maybe in another life, you would have been his, and he would have been yours. But in this one, all he could do was love you from afar, a love that would remain untouched by time but buried deep within his heart.
ahhh thanks for reading up till here everyone! let me know if you liked it! this fic actually hit very close to home while i was writing because i subconsciously inserted my own feelings towards jay in this LOL😞
"You should try Park Me Up, " Jake suggested, his Australian accent stretching the words.
"fuck what up?" you asked, your voice unintentionally louder in confusion.
Jake stifled a laugh. "dude, Park Me Up. It's a guitar shop that sells vinyls, too. Heard the selection's pretty dope. Apparently, the owner's nephew curates it." He chuckled, rolling his eyes when he realized what you'd misheard. Danielle, sitting to your right, let out a quiet laugh at your expense.
pairing - guitar shop worker! jay x female reader
w.c - 22.4k
content: y/n is a reserved individual, who moves to seattle for university, where she meets a silver haired boy working in a guitar shop while looking for vinyls. ( mentions of members from other groups, or in enha)
warnings! jay is very very indecisive, mentions of cheating, kissing, heavy heavy angst, kissing, mutual pinning, slow burn. (lmk if i missed out anything...)
a/n: hello everyone ! i finally published my first full length fic after forever lol... It's christmas already and it should be a jolly fic but... im a sucker for angst... i hope you guys like it ! Happy holidays lovelies! Also thank you to my offline friend who proofread this for me, and thank you grammerly for correcting my grammers LOL.
You never expected yourself to fall for Jay. You really didn't. You never intended to be so completely enamored by the boy who worked at his uncle's guitar shop—the boy who always showed up in an oversized white shirt and gray sweats, hair falling messily over his forehead, yet somehow looking effortlessly perfect. The boy with silver hair that shimmered under the dim store lights as he strummed chords on a guitar he probably didn't plan to buy. But here you were, hopelessly in love with a boy who had a girlfriend.
Moving to Seattle had been a decision more practical than emotional, but it still hurt. You stood by the window of your tiny apartment, staring out at the city as it buzzed with energy, even on a quiet Wednesday night. The view was breathtaking—glittering skyscrapers against the dark sky, streets glowing with endless streams of headlights and neon signs. Yet, despite the beauty, there was an ache inside you. You missed home, the warmth of your family, and the familiarity of your old life.
Your parents hadn’t made the choice any easier. Both renowned architects, they had high hopes that you would follow in their footsteps. Seattle was where they had both studied, fallen in love, and started building their careers. To them, sending you here felt like a full-circle moment, a chance for you to experience what they had cherished so deeply. To you, it felt like being uprooted.
“You need this,” your mother had said, her voice softer than usual as she helped pack your bags. “A new city, new challenges—it’ll be good for you. Just promise me you’ll explore. Don’t hide away in your room with your vinyls all day.”
You’d reluctantly agreed, not wanting to disappoint her.
A few weeks had passed since school started, and to your surprise, things weren’t as bad as you’d feared. Your decision to major in architecture felt natural, like a familiar rhythm you’d always known. Growing up with two architects as parents meant you had a solid foundation, and the workload—while demanding—was manageable.
But school wasn’t the part that scared you. It was the loneliness you dreaded most. Your mom’s parting words echoed in your mind as you forced yourself to step out of your comfort zone, accepting an invitation from a friendly classmate named Beomgyu to grab lunch. That one small decision changed everything.
Beomgyu quickly became one of your closest friends, and through him, you met Danielle and Ning Ning, two of the most vibrant people you’d ever known. They, in turn, introduced you to their wider circle—Jake, Jungwon, and Sunoo. Jake and Jungwon were Twitch streamers, a detail you found both amusing and fascinating.
“Jake’s not even good at the games he streams,” Jungwon teased one afternoon as you all sat around a table at a cozy ice cream shop downtown. “He keeps dying and getting pity donations from girls who think he’s cute.”
Jake let out a dramatic whine, lips jutting into a pout as he folded his arms. “That’s not true! I’m good at some games.”
Danielle snorted, pointing her spoon at him. “You literally called Fall Guys a ‘competitive battle royale.’”
Jake turned to you for backup, his eyes wide and pleading. “You believe me, right?”
You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound bubbling out of you before you could stop it. Moments like these felt warm and grounding, like you were finally finding a place for yourself in this unfamiliar city
"Did you see? Daniel Caesar's new album just dropped," Jake whispered, leaning closer to you in class. His eyes flicked toward the front of the lecture hall, where the professor was mid-sentence.
"Never Enough, right? Yeah, I saw," you replied, keeping your voice low to avoid getting caught. "I think I'm gonna hit up a store to buy the vinyl. I need it for my collection."
"You should try Park Me Up," Jake suggested, his Australian accent stretching the words.
"fuck what up?" you asked, your voice unintentionally louder in confusion.
Jake stifled a laugh. "dude, Park Me Up. It’s a guitar shop that sells vinyls, too. Heard the selection’s pretty dope. Apparently, the owner’s nephew curates it." He chuckled, rolling his eyes when he realized what you'd misheard. Danielle, sitting to your right, let out a quiet laugh at your expense.
"Oh, right. Got it," you mumbled, quickly typing the shop's name into Google. It was only fifteen minutes from campus—definitely worth checking out.
Later that afternoon, curiosity got the better of you. With your classes done for the day and a spare hour on your hands, you decided to make the trip to Park Me Up. Jake's recommendation had piqued your interest, and you figured it wouldn't hurt to check out the shop.
The small bell above the door jingled softly as you pushed it open, stepping into the cozy, slightly dim space. The scent of polished wood and aged vinyl filled the air, and rows of guitars lined the walls, their polished surfaces gleaming under the warm light. In the corner, a shelf was dedicated to records, a modest but eclectic collection that immediately drew your attention.
You were flipping through the vinyls, scanning the neatly labeled dividers, when a voice startled you.
“Looking for something specific?”
You glanced up to find a boy standing behind the counter, his silver hair catching the light in a way that made it impossible not to stare for a second too long. He was wearing a slightly oversized white shirt over his grey sweats, the casual look somehow amplifying his presence rather than diminishing it. The silver haired boy was already looking at you curiously, albeit an amused smile on his face.
“Uh, yeah,” you managed, your voice almost catching. “I was looking for Daniel Caesar’s Never Enough. Heard you guys might have it.”
He smiled faintly, the kind of smile that felt effortlessly genuine. “Good choice. We just got a shipment in. Let me grab it for you.”
You watched as he moved to the back, his stride unhurried but purposeful. When he returned, he held the vinyl in his hands like it was something sacred, carefully placing it on the counter between you.
“Here you go,” he said, his voice soft. “This one’s already been pretty popular.”
“Thanks,” You hesitated before asking, “So, do you curate the collection here?”
He blinked in surprise before nodding. “Yeah, I do. How’d you know?”
“Word of mouth,” you said, shrugging lightly. “A friend recommended the shop. Said the vinyl selection’s great because of you.”
His smile widened slightly, and there was something in his expression that made your stomach flip. “Glad to hear it. I try to make it as diverse as possible. Let me know if there’s something you’re looking for, and I’ll see what I can do.”
You opened your mouth to say something, but the boy beat you to it. “What genre of music do you listen to?” he asked, his tone casual but curious.
You hesitated, feeling a little self-conscious. Some of your friends always teased you for having the music taste of a middle-aged woman. “Um, I’m not sure if you’d know them, but... Oasis? Red Jumpsuit Apparatus, The 1975—and, you know, the more basic ones like Frank Ocean, Tyler, Kendrick…” Your voice trailed off, and you missed the way the boy’s smile grew wider with every name you mentioned, his eyes lighting up with excitement.
“Oasis? No way. That’s my favorite band,” the silver-haired boy blurted, his enthusiasm catching you off guard. “Usually, there aren’t many people our age who listen to them. My friends always call me an old soul because of my taste in music. But finally—finally—I don’t have to be an old soul alone!”
He leaned back, grinning from ear to ear. “Honestly, I think I've met my match. I listen to almost every artist you just named. You might even be better at curating playlists than I am,” he chuckled, the sunlight streaming through the window catching on his silver hair and making his honey-tanned skin seem to glow.
Your cheeks flushed slightly at his enthusiasm, the way his eyes lit up as if he’d just stumbled upon some rare treasure. You hadn’t expected this reaction, let alone from someone who looked like they belonged on the cover of a magazine instead of behind the counter of a record shop.
“You're just saying that,” you said with a shy laugh, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I'm not that great at curating. I just... listen to what feels right, you know?”
The boy shook his head, his smile unwavering.“No, I mean it. Oasis is a bold choice, especially for someone who looks…” He trailed off, suddenly catching himself.
Your brow arched slightly. "Looks what?”
He cleared his throat, his confidence faltering for just a moment. “Looks like they'd be more into pop or something.”
You rolled your eyes, but there was no bite in your response.“Yeah, well, don't judge a book by its cover. Or a person by their playlist.”
His laugh was soft, the kind that made your chest tighten unexpectedly. “Fair enough.”
The conversation settled into a comfortable rhythm, the initial awkwardness melting away.
“Okay, I have to ask,” Jay said suddenly, leaning against the counter with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Favorite Oasis song?”
You hesitated, pretending to think it over even though you already knew the answer. “Don’t Look Back in Anger. Classic.”
He nodded approvingly, his grin widening. “Respect. Though, Live Forever might just take the top spot for me.”
You tilted your head, a playful challenge in your tone. “Strong choice. But I think Champagne Supernova could give it a run for its money.”
Jay’s laughter filled the shop, warm and unrestrained. “You’re good. I might just have to hire you as my personal music consultant.”
You were about to respond when the door chimed again, signaling another customer. Jay turned slightly to greet them, but his feet remained planted, standing in front of you with that wide, easy smile. To him, it felt like looking into a mirror—like seeing himself, just in the opposite gender.
You wanted to speak, to ask for his name, but the customer broke the moment, calling for his assistance.
“i've, um, got to go. See you around? ” he said softly, giving you one last glance. A dimple appeared on his left cheek as he smiled, the kind of smile that lingered, just like the glint of his silver hair catching the light. For a fleeting moment, it felt as though the world slowed down.
“See you,” you whispered to yourself, knowing he couldn’t hear you anymore. You carefully placed the vinyl back where you found it, a small smile tugging at your lips—because you knew you’d be coming back.
The soft click of the door echoed behind you, and the quiet hum of the city greeted you as you stepped onto the sidewalk. The night air was crisp, brushing against your cheeks, and for some reason, you couldn’t wipe the small smile off your face.
You couldn’t stop thinking about him. About his silver hair, the excitement in his voice when you mentioned Oasis, and the way he had lingered—just a little longer than he needed to—before walking away.
As you walked, your thoughts kept drifting back to the shop. To him. It was silly, really. You barely knew him. He was just a boy in a guitar shop. But something about him tugged at you in a way you couldn’t quite explain, as though a song you’d forgotten had started playing in the background of your life, soft and familiar.
Meanwhile, inside the shop, Jay was still standing behind the counter, his head tilted slightly as he watched you through the large front window. The orange glow from the streetlights traced the outline of your figure as you disappeared down the street, and for reasons he couldn’t quite articulate, his chest tightened.
It wasn’t often that someone caught his attention like that. Sure, plenty of customers passed through the shop, and Jay, ever the charmer, knew how to win people over with a smile or a bit of small talk. But this felt different. The way you spoke, the way you looked at him—like you really heard him, like you understood. It was rare. And it left a mark.
The sound of the other customer clearing their throat broke him from his trance. He turned back, hastily fixing his expression into something neutral, professional, but the remnants of his smile were still there.
“Sorry, what was that?” he asked, trying to focus.
The customer repeated their request, but even as Jay worked, his mind stayed far away, replaying your words, your quiet demeanor, the way your face flushed when you saw him smile at you. It was such a small thing, but it had stuck with him—how you’d looked so startled, yet soft and genuine all at once, like no one had smiled at you that way in a long time.
He wasn’t quite sure why it mattered. Or why it kept tugging at the corners of his thoughts, refusing to let go.
Jay’s hands moved on autopilot as he rang up the customer’s purchase, his mind somewhere else entirely. He thought about the way your voice had softened when you spoke about the bands you loved, how your fingers brushed the edge of the vinyl as though it were something precious. And the way you whispered—so quietly he wasn’t even sure he’d heard it—“see you.”
You’d meant it, hadn’t you? That you’d come back?
Jay blinked back into focus as the customer grabbed their bag and left, muttering a “thanks” on their way out. He let out a breath, leaning back against the counter, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck. This was ridiculous. It wasn't like he hadn't met interesting people before.
But you weren't like the others.
You didn't try to impress him, didn't try to force conversation. You were just... yourself. Unapologetically quiet, honest, and deeply sincere in that brief moment. It felt like a melody he couldn’t place but one he already knew by heart.
He ran a hand through his silver hair, glancing out the shop window to the darkened street. You were long gone now, but the image of you—standing there in the soft glow of the shop’s lights, lips quirking into that small, shy smile—lingered in his mind.
“Get it together, Jay,” he muttered to himself. But the truth was, he already knew he’d be watching for you. Waiting for that door to chime again.
And when it did, he wasn’t sure what would happen—he just knew he wanted to find out.
The soft jingle of the bell above the door announced your arrival. You stepped into the shop, your eyes darting instinctively toward the counter—only to find it empty.
He must not be working today, you thought, a tinge of disappointment settling in. Still, the familiar scent of old vinyl records mixed with the faint tang of guitar polish surrounded you, offering its usual comfort.
Then you heard it. Soft, deliberate strums of a guitar, playing the chords to “Beside You” by Keshi—one of your favorite songs. Curiosity tugged at you, and you ventured deeper into the store, following the sound.
The shop was quieter today. A few customers lounged in the listening area, sipping coffee or flipping through newspapers. As you rounded a shelf, your eyes landed on him.
The silver-haired boy sat perched on a wooden stool, a black-and-white guitar cradled in his lap—a Fender Stratocaster, you’d later learn, named Veronica.
You stood there, captivated. Every movement—the way his fingers glided along the strings, the way the melody hummed through the shop, the way his expression softened when he played—held you still. An unspoken feeling stirred inside you, unfamiliar and warm, as you watched him.
The soft strums of the guitar reverberated through the small shop, blending seamlessly with the faint crackling of a vinyl playing somewhere in the background. Your heart thudded softly against your chest as you watched him, completely lost in his own world—eyes low, brows furrowed in concentration, the slightest pout on his lips.
It wasn't fair. How could someone look so effortlessly perfect in such a simple moment? The silver strands of his hair fell over his forehead, catching the warm afternoon light filtering in through the shop’s windows. The oversized white shirt he wore draped lazily over his frame, the sleeves pushed up just enough to reveal his forearms as his fingers moved gracefully over the frets.
And the song—your song.
It wasn’t just the way he played it that captivated you, but the feeling in every note. It was as if he wasn't just strumming chords; he was speaking in a language that only the two of you understood.
You didn't want to interrupt. You didn't want to break the spell. So you stayed there, hovering silently between the shelves of vinyls, letting yourself get lost in the way he swayed slightly with the rhythm, the way his foot tapped softly against the floor.
Then, the song ended with a final, lingering note. The hum of the strings faded into silence, leaving the air thick and still. For a moment, he stayed there, letting his hands rest on the guitar strings, eyes still downcast.
And then he looked up.
The sudden shift in his gaze nearly made you flinch, your breath catching in your throat. His eyes—soft brown, filled with a quiet warmth—locked onto yours, and for a second, neither of you spoke. His expression flickered from surprise to something unreadable before that familiar smile crept onto his face.
“You came back.” His voice was soft, laced with both surprise and something else—something you couldn't quite place.
You nodded, a little breathless as you stepped forward. “I—I didn't mean to interrupt. You were playing Beside You. It's… it's one of my favorites.”
His smile widened just a touch, dimples peeking through. “Yeah? Mine too. Guess we really do have the same taste.”
He carefully set the guitar down on its stand—Veronica, you remembered—and turned toward you, leaning back against the counter. “What brings you in today? Another vinyl to add to the collection?”
You shrugged, trying to play it cool despite the nervous fluttering in your chest. “Something like that. I actually just—” you hesitated, unsure how to finish the sentence. “—wanted to see what was new.”
Jay raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You sure? Or did you come back to listen to me butcher more songs?”
You laughed softly, shaking your head. “I didn't know you could play the guitar, but You’re too good to butcher anything.”
His smile faltered just slightly, as if caught off guard by your words, but he recovered quickly, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, I've got a long way to go, but thanks. I’ve picked up guitar since i was a 5, it's quite normal if your uncle owns a guitar shop. "His voice was quieter now, a bit more vulnerable.
There was a beat of silence, but it didn’t feel awkward. It was comfortable, like the calm right before a storm, where something hung unsaid between the two of you.
“Want me to play something else?” he asked, suddenly breaking the stillness.
You blinked, startled. “For me?”
“Yeah, you're already here, so why not? Pick a song,” he chuckled, settling back down onto the stool with an easy smile.
You paused, considering. “What about… Oasis?‘Wonderwall’ ?”
His head shot up, eyes lighting up like a kid at Christmas. “You're seriously making my day right now.”
The shop seemed to fade away, the quiet hum of the world outside disappearing into the soft, unpolished notes of the guitar. It was just you, the boy with silver hair.
I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now.
Your breath hitched when his gaze met yours. It wasn’t just a fleeting glance this time. It lingered—his brown eyes holding yours with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. His lips curled into the faintest smile, as if he’d felt the weight of the words, too, as if the song were meant for this moment.
For you.
You gripped the edge of the shelf behind you, knuckles turning pale as you tried to steady yourself. The warmth flooding your chest, the flutter in your stomach—you’d never felt this before. Not like this. It wasn’t some grand moment in a romantic movie, but it felt just as significant. Like something you weren’t supposed to feel but couldn’t resist.
You wondered, then, if he felt it too.
The way his eyes softened every time he looked at you. The way he smiled like he was holding onto a secret you didn’t yet know. The way he played this song, one so simple yet so heavy, as if the lyrics were carving a space just for the two of you.
Your heart whispered things you weren’t ready to say out loud. Does he see me the way I see him? Does he feel this, too?
It felt like magic, the kind of moment that you’d replay in your head on sleepless nights, the kind of moment you’d tuck away carefully, afraid it might slip through your fingers.
The strumming grew softer as he reached the final verses, his fingers deftly strumming the last chords. But even as the sound faded into stillness, the look he gave you lingered, as though he, too, had felt something shift.
The silence between you was heavier now, filled with words neither of you dared to speak.
“ that was… really good,” you said softly, breaking the silence. Your voice came out quieter than you’d intended, almost trembling.
The boy’s smile widened, though his expression held something else—something deeper, more uncertain. He set the guitar down gently, leaning back slightly on the stool as his eyes stayed on you. “Thanks. I haven't played that one in a while.”
“Well, it didn't sound like it,” you replied, forcing a small laugh to break the tension that seemed to have wrapped itself around you both.
He tilted his head, his silver hair falling into his eyes before he brushed it away. “You really love this song, huh?”
You nodded, your fingers nervously playing with the hem of your sleeve. “Yeah. It's… special. Makes you feel things, you know?”
His gaze softened again, and for a moment, you thought he was going to say something—something important, something you weren't sure you were ready to hear. But instead, he smiled softly, a little wistfully.
“Yeah. I get that.”
And just like that, the moment passed, leaving you teetering on the edge of something unknown.
You both fell into a quiet that wasn't uncomfortable, but it wasn’t easy either. It was the kind of quiet where feelings settled heavy in the air, unspoken but undeniable. You wondered if he could hear how fast your heart was beating or if he could see the questions swirling in your mind.
“I just realized I don't even know your name. Mind gracing my ears with it?” the boy teased, his dimple deepening as he broke into a warm laugh.
He only has a dimple on the left side of his cheek, you thought to yourself, unable to ignore how effortlessly charming it made him look.
Your face flushed at his words, and you laughed softly, trying to play it cool. “It's Y/N.”
“Y/N,” he repeated, as if testing how it sounded. His grin widened. “Interesting name. I'm just plain old Jay. Or—if you're feeling formal—you can call me Jongseong. Most people just stick with Jay, though.”
He leaned casually against one of the shelves that displayed vinyls, crossing his arms as he watched you, the playful glint in his eyes never fading.
“Jay suits you,” you said quietly, the name lingering on your tongue like it belonged there. You glanced down at the vinyls displayed in front of you, fingers brushing absentmindedly over the edges, though your attention was nowhere near the records. It was on him—the way his smile tugged slightly higher on one side, the way his silver hair framed his face like it was meant to catch the light perfectly.
“Does it?” Jay mused, his tone teasing but gentle. “I always thought it was kind of boring. Plain. But I guess I’ll take your word for it.”
You laughed softly, shaking your head. “It’s not plain. It's…” You hesitated, meeting his gaze. “It's fitting.”
He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Fitting, huh? What’s that supposed to mean?”
You bit your lip, feeling the heat creeping up your face again. Why did he have to look at you like that—like you were the only person in the room? “I just mean… you don’t seem like a ‘Jongseong.’ You seem like a ‘Jay.’ Simple. Warm.”
Your voice trailed off as you realized what you’d said, your heart pounding in your chest. Warm? Did you really just say that out loud?
Jay’s dimple appeared again as he smiled, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. “Warm, huh?” He shifted his weight, leaning more comfortably against the shelf, and for a split second, it looked like he was trying to hide how flustered he was. “You’ve got a way with words, y/n.”
You looked away quickly, suddenly fascinated with the cover of a vinyl on the shelf. “I’m just being honest,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.
For a moment, the two of you fell into a comfortable silence, the tension settling like a quiet hum in the air between you. It wasn’t heavy, but it wasn’t light either—it was something else. Something unspoken.
Jay tilted his head, breaking the silence first. “So, y/n… what’s your story? You seem like someone who has one.”
You blinked, caught off guard by the question. “My story?”
“Yeah,” he said with a small shrug, his tone softer now. “Everyone’s got one. You don’t seem like the kind of person who just ends up here by accident.”
You exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of his question. “I… moved here for school,” you said, choosing your words carefully. “Architecture. My parents are both in the field, so it kind of feels like… I don’t know, like a path I’m supposed to follow.”
Jay’s expression softened, his head nodding slightly as if he understood more than you were saying. “That’s a lot to carry, huh?”
You looked up at him, startled by how easily he’d seen through you. “Yeah,” you admitted, your voice quiet. “Sometimes.”
There was no pity in his gaze, only understanding—like he’d felt the weight of expectation before too. “Well,” he said after a moment, his tone lighter, “for what it’s worth, it sounds like you’re doing fine. You’ve got good taste in music, so you can’t be that lost.”
You laughed at his attempt to lighten the mood, grateful for the small reprieve. “That’s your bar for success? Good taste in music?”
“Absolutely,” Jay replied, grinning. “It says a lot about a person.”
“And what does my music taste say about me?” you challenged, tilting your head slightly.
Jay’s smile faltered for just a moment, something unreadable flashing in his eyes before he answered. “It says you’ve got depth. You feel things. You appreciate what’s real.”
His words struck something deep in you, leaving you momentarily speechless. How could someone you’d barely met see you so clearly?
Jay cleared his throat, as if realizing he’d said too much. “Anyway,” he said, pushing himself off the shelf, his voice returning to its usual playful tone, “you’ll have to come back so I can keep quizzing you on music. I can’t let you win the ‘good taste’ trophy just yet.”
You smiled, your heart fluttering. “I’ll think about it.”
“You better,” he teased, his dimple reappearing. “Veronica and I will be waiting.”
“Veronica?”
He gestured toward the guitar leaning against the stool where he’d been playing earlier. “She’s temperamental, but she’s good to me.”
You laughed, shaking your head. “You named your guitar?”
“Of course I did,” Jay said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “She deserves it.”
You smiled as you watched him, your heart inexplicably light despite the unfamiliar feelings tugging at you. “Alright, Jay. I’ll be back to check in on you… and Veronica.”
“Looking forward to it,” he replied, his voice softening.
As you walked out of the shop, the bell chiming softly above you, you couldn’t help but glance back through the window. Jay was still standing there, watching you leave, a small smile resting on face.
You hadn’t gotten far when a familiar voice called out to you. It wasn’t hard to recognize—Jay.
Turning back in confusion, you spotted him jogging toward you, something tucked under his arm. As he got closer, you realized what it was: the vinyl you’d meant to buy on your first visit. Never Enough was nestled carefully against his chest, the moonlight catching his silver hair and making it glow like a halo.
Stopping in front of you, slightly out of breath, Jay held up the record and offered it to you.
“This is… for you,” he said, panting softly as he caught his breath. “Consider it a ‘nice to meet you’ gift.”
Your mouth fell open in shock, completely caught off guard. You stared at the vinyl, knowing you hadn’t paid for it. “I can’t,” you stammered, shaking your head and waving your hands frantically. “It’s too expensive, and… won’t your uncle beat you up for this?”
Even as you protested, the thought of his kindness sent a quiet warmth spreading through you.
That’s when it struck you how tall Jay really was. Looking straight ahead, you only met his shoulder. He leaned down, a teasing grin tugging at his lips as he whispered, “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
As quickly as he leaned in, he straightened back up, his playful expression unwavering. “Besides,” he exclaimed louder, puffing his chest out for effect, “I’m his nephew. What’s he gonna do? Fire his best employee and the guy with the best taste in the shop?”
He grinned, brushing a few stray strands of silver hair away from his face, the confidence in his voice making you laugh despite yourself.
You stared at him, stunned and unable to form a coherent response. The vinyl now resting in his hands, being held out to you like some kind of offering. It didn’t help that the teasing grin on his face had you feeling lightheaded, your heart hammering wildly in your chest.
“I really can’t take this,” you said again, though your voice wavered, betraying how much you wanted to accept it. “It’s too much.”
Jay tilted his head, the grin softening into something gentler, more sincere. “Y/n, it’s just a record,” he said quietly, though there was something in the way he said your name that made your heart stutter. “It’s not about what it costs. I just… I thought you’d like it.”
You met his gaze then, and the sincerity you found there nearly knocked the air out of your lungs. He meant it. There was no teasing now, no charm for the sake of charm. Just Jay—simple, warm, and standing in front of you with an earnestness that made your walls crumble just a little more.
Your lips parted, searching for something—anything—to say, but all you managed was, “Thank you.” The words were small, almost insignificant compared to the way your chest felt full and heavy all at once. “I really mean it.”
Jay’s grin returned, softer this time, and he placed the vinyl carefully in your hands. “Good,” he said, his voice quiet as if this moment was fragile. “Then it’s settled.”
You stared down at the vinyl, tracing the edge of it with your thumb as you tried to process the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. He didn’t have to do this for you. He barely even knew you. And yet, here he was, going out of his way to make sure you left with a smile.
“You’re really something, Jay,” you muttered, shaking your head in disbelief, though a smile tugged at the corners of your lips.
“And you’re really stubborn,” he shot back playfully, his dimple making another appearance as he chuckled. “But I guess we balance each other out.”
You rolled your eyes, clutching the vinyl closer to your chest as you tried to ignore the fluttering in your stomach. “You’re lucky you’re funny.”
“Lucky, huh?” he teased, tilting his head to the side as he looked at you. “I’ll take it.”
There was a brief pause, a moment suspended in time where neither of you spoke. The afternoon sun cast long shadows on the pavement, the light softening everything around you. For a second, you let yourself take in the sight of him—the way his silver hair fell just slightly over his eyes, the way his smile lingered even when he wasn’t speaking.
The silence between you wasn’t awkward, though it brimmed with something new. Something unsaid. You clutched the vinyl close to your chest, a smile tugging at your lips as you watched Jay recover his usual composure.
“Well,” you said finally, breaking the silence as you tried to steady your heartbeat. “I should get going before I take up your whole day.”
Jay smirked, his hands sliding back into the pockets of his grey sweats. “You say that like it’d be a bad thing.”
“Well,” he said after a beat, copying your words,“You better come back soon, okay? Veronica and I have more songs to play for you.”
You laughed, the sound light and genuine. “You really can’t go two minutes without mentioning Veronica, huh?”
“She’s a big part of my life,” Jay replied with mock seriousness, though the teasing sparkle in his eyes gave him away. “But don’t worry—I’ve got room for other important things too.”
Your heart stumbled over itself at his words, and you quickly looked away, pretending to be interested in the vinyl again. “I’ll come back,” you promised, your voice soft. “I’m starting to think this place might be my new favorite spot.”
Jay’s smile widened, a dimple peeking through on his left cheek. “Good. I’ll hold you to that.”
As he stepped back toward the shop, you watched him go, his silver hair catching the light one last time before he disappeared through the door. You stood there for a moment longer, clutching the record against your chest as a smile broke across your face.
You hadn’t expected to meet someone like him. Someone who made you feel seen without even trying. Someone who handed you a vinyl you’d wanted as though it were the easiest thing in the world.
Back inside the shop, Jay stood by the window, watching you disappear down the street with the vinyl tucked securely in your arms. His smile lingered, but there was a new weight settling in his chest—something unfamiliar, something he couldn’t quite name.
“She’s cool,” he murmured to himself, running a hand through his hair.
And as much as he tried to shake it, the image of your smile stayed with him, refusing to leave.
You found yourself visiting the record shop more often, stopping by every few days after classes, just to say hi to Jay. It always ended with you staying until the store closed, lost in conversation with him.
He greeted you with a warm smile every time, like he was anticipating your arrival. Time flew by when you were having fun. You’d pop in during the afternoon and leave only when the crickets began singing. It became a routine so familiar that even some customers started mistaking you for an employee.
Talking to Jay was easy. He seemed to understand how you felt, sharing his own experiences that mirrored yours. The more you talked, the more Jay couldn’t help but notice the way your eyes would light up when you found that you shared the same thoughts or tastes. It was like two puzzle pieces fitting perfectly together. Jay was a mirror image of you—until the conversation turned to ice cream.
“Mint chocolate tastes like toothpaste,” Jay deadpanned, making you laugh.
“Does not. That’s like saying matcha tastes like grass,” you shot back, rolling your eyes playfully.
“No, it doesn’t! I’d rather eat grass than have toothpaste for dessert,” he replied, his tone teasing, a grin tugging at his lips.
Your jaw dropped in exaggerated disbelief as you crossed your arms over your chest. “Oh, so now you’re a grass-eating expert? Should I grab you a handful from outside?”
Jay let out a laugh, the sound full and genuine, echoing through the quiet shop. “Hey, don’t twist my words! All I’m saying is, grass might be the superior option here.”
“You’re impossible.” You shook your head, though you couldn’t stop the grin tugging at your lips. It was hard to stay fake-mad at him when he looked so effortlessly charming, his silver hair falling into his eyes as he leaned back casually against the counter.
“Impossible but right,” he shot back, that dimple on his left cheek peeking out as he smirked at you. “You’re really defending mint chocolate like your life depends on it, huh?”
“Because it’s amazing and you have no taste,” you retorted, pretending to look insulted. “I feel bad for you. You’ll never know true joy.”
Jay clutched at his heart dramatically, wincing as if you’d just stabbed him. “That hurt, y/n. Truly. I think I need Veronica to comfort me now.”
You couldn’t hold back a laugh as you watched him make his way to the stool where his guitar sat. He grabbed her gently—like she was something fragile—before slinging her across his lap. “Fine, go cry to your guitar,” you teased. “She probably agrees with me anyway.”
“Oh, she definitely doesn’t,” Jay argued, already strumming a playful tune. “Veronica has class.”
You rolled your eyes, but your chest felt light, warmth spreading through you. Moments like these—full of laughter, teasing, and easy conversation—made you forget about everything else. Your classes, your homesickness, the weight of your parents’ expectations… none of it mattered when you were here, talking to Jay. It scared you how much you looked forward to these moments.
Unbeknownst to you, Jay felt the same way. The first few times you visited, he thought it was just a coincidence—that you were probably there for the records. But now… now, he knew better. Every time the bell above the door chimed, his head would snap up, hoping it was you.
You had become his favorite part of the day.
As he played soft, absent-minded chords on Veronica, his eyes flickered toward you. You were leaning against the counter, flipping through a box of vinyls, your expression relaxed and content. For a moment, Jay just watched you, his fingers faltering slightly on the strings.
“Hey, y/n,” he called out, drawing your attention.
You looked up, curious. “Yeah?”
He hesitated for a second, the words on the tip of his tongue. Something about how much he appreciated you coming here, how he felt like the days were brighter when you were around. But instead, he defaulted to teasing, a grin tugging at his lips.
“Promise me something.”
“What?” you asked, raising a brow.
“When I’m right about mint chocolate being trash, you’ll admit it publicly. Maybe we’ll record it and everything. Sound fair?”
You groaned, tossing your head back. “You’re impossible. Truly.”
He chuckled softly, the sound mixing with the hum of his guitar. “But I’m right.”
And for a while, you both sat in that moment—filled with music, banter, and the quiet comfort of knowing you weren’t alone.
Neither of you dared to admit it, but this routine you’d fallen into? It felt dangerously close to something more. But you couldnt shake that uneasy feeling when you looked at jay. He seemed like he was conflicted between telling you something.
As you perched on the familiar stool, your gaze drifted to Jay, who stood at the counter wrapping up a vinyl for a customer. His small, focused smile tugged at something deep inside you. The soft melody of Mac Ayres' Easy played in the background, and you found yourself humming along, lost in the rhythm.
You were so engrossed in the music and your thoughts that you didn’t notice Jay walking toward you until he was standing right in front of you. Startled, you jumped, nearly toppling off the stool.
Jay’s reflexes were quick. His hand shot out to grab your arm, the other steadying you by your waist. “Careful there. Someone must be deep in their feels, huh?” he teased with a grin, his laugh soft and warm.
The contact sent a jolt through you, like a spark lighting your nerves. His touch was firm but gentle, his proximity overwhelming. The scent of his cologne—a mix of cedar and wood—wrapped around you, intoxicating and grounding all at once. Your face burned as you tilted your head to meet his gaze.
“Yeah, it’s hard not to when the curator has such good taste,” you whispered, your voice quiet in the closeness between you. You felt yourself soften under his touch, curious to see how he’d respond.
Jay’s heart stuttered as he looked down at you. Your words carried more weight than they seemed, and something about the way you said them made his chest tighten. He cleared his throat, the heat rising to his cheeks as he tried to keep his composure. His hands lingered a fraction longer than necessary before he let go, his reluctance almost palpable.
“Well,” he murmured, his voice low, “you’re right, considering you picked this one with me.” His eyes held yours, glinting with something unspoken—something you dared to hope might be fondness.
You felt your heart flutter at his words, the shared memory softening the ache you’d tried so hard to bury. For a moment, it was just you and Jay, suspended in the quiet hum of the record shop, with the melody weaving around you like a thread tying you together.
“I know how to play this on the guitar. Wanna listen?” Jay asked, already moving toward Veronica without waiting for your reply.
You nodded, your eyes following his every movement. The way his forearm flexed as he picked up the guitar and adjusted it in his lap, his fingers effortlessly finding the chords—it was mesmerizing. The first familiar notes of Easy filled the shop, his playing smooth and precise, as if the guitar had been made just for him.
Halfway through the song, you couldn’t hold back your curiosity any longer. “Why haven’t I seen anyone else play this guitar?” you asked, breaking the gentle spell of the melody. “I mean, I know the rest of the guitars are free for trial and use, but no one ever touches Veronica.”
Jay chuckled softly, his fingers continuing to dance over the strings. The sound was warm and unhurried, perfectly complementing his low, quiet response. “Let’s just say I don’t like other people touching what’s mine.”
The possessiveness in his tone caught you off guard, sending a shiver down your spine. His words hung in the air, deliberate and weighted with something unspoken. When he tilted his head to look at you, his dark eyes lingering, you couldn’t help but wonder—did he mean the guitar, or was there more to his statement?
Jay's words hung in the air, the weight of them sending a spark of electricity through you. You blinked, momentarily stunned, unsure how to respond. His fingers never faltered on the strings, the melody of the song weaving around the quiet tension that had settled between you.
"Yours?" you repeated, your voice soft but questioning.
Jay smirked faintly, his eyes still on you, an unreadable emotion swirling in their depths. "Veronica," he clarified, though the slight upturn of his lips hinted that he knew exactly what his words had done. "She’s special to me. I guess I’m a little protective."
You nodded slowly, trying to ignore the way your heart raced in your chest. "I get it," you murmured. "She’s beautiful. Sounds even better when you play her."
Jay’s smirk softened into a genuine smile, his fingers continuing to strum as he looked back down at the guitar. "Thanks. But I think she just likes the company," he said, his tone light, though there was something unspoken beneath his words.
The melody shifted, and he began playing something softer, more intimate. You watched him, mesmerized by the way his hands moved effortlessly across the strings, the music flowing from him like a second language.
"You know," he began, his voice low, "there’s something about playing for someone who actually listens. Makes it... feel different." He glanced up at you, his gaze steady and vulnerable. "You always listen."
Your breath hitched, and you felt your cheeks heat up. "Of course I listen," you replied quietly. "You’re... talented. And music—it says a lot about a person. About what they feel, even when they don’t say it."
Jay’s fingers stilled for a moment, and he looked at you as if seeing you in a new light. "That’s true," he said softly. "Music has a way of saying things words can’t."
For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence filled only by the faint hum of the shop’s ambiance and the distant buzz of conversation. Jay’s gaze lingered on you, as if he were trying to decipher a melody only he could hear.
Then, with a soft chuckle, he resumed playing. "Guess I’ll have to keep playing for you, then," he said, his tone playful but his eyes betraying a hint of something deeper.
You smiled, your heart swelling despite yourself. "Guess you will," you whispered, wondering if Jay realized just how much his music—and his presence—meant to you.
That day, you and Jay exchanged numbers, texting each other occasionally to share songs from different artists. Things were going surprisingly well—so well that it stirred an uneasy feeling in your chest. How is this going so smoothly?
There was never a shortage of topics to talk about with Jay. One evening, you were in the shop again. Jay sat on the stool, absentmindedly strumming chords on Veronica, while you animatedly recounted your two-day camping trip to snag Bailey Zimmerman’s Religiously record.
Jay listened attentively, his warm eyes fixed on you, and that damn smile—the one that made your heart race every single time—resting on his face.
“You should come see my record collection sometime,” you said, your words bubbling with excitement. “It’ll blow your mind. I’ll even let you borrow some if you’re nice enough.”
Jay chuckled softly, his voice dropping slightly. “Yeah? Haven’t I been nice enough to you already?”
The air shifted. His words carried more weight than his playful tone suggested.
“Yeah, you’re really nice to me,” you mumbled, suddenly feeling self-conscious as you looked down at your shoes, your cheeks growing warm.
Jay leaned forward slightly, his voice softer now. “You know what? I’d love to—”
The chime of the shop’s door interrupted him. Startled, you turned to see who it was, only to meet the gaze of a striking blonde woman standing in the doorway.
“Seongie, are you done packing up?” she called cheerfully as she stepped inside.
She wore a denim dress, her blonde hair cascading down her back, paired with knee-high boots. There was an undeniable air of elegance about her—a confidence and beauty that made your stomach churn.
Seongie? The name echoed in your head. You’d never heard anyone call him that. Who is she?
You glanced back at Jay, your eyes wide with confusion. But he was already looking at her, his face lighting up with an expression you’d never seen before—soft, adoring, and unreserved.
“Hey, pretty,” Jay greeted, setting Veronica down and standing up to embrace her.
Your heart dropped into your stomach as you watched them. The warmth of the shop suddenly felt suffocating.
When they finally pulled apart, Jay turned to you, though his gaze never really left her. “Y/N, meet my girlfriend, Giselle. Giselle, this is Y/N.”
Girlfriend? The word hit you like a punch to the chest. Your mind spiraled, replaying every interaction with him, every shared moment. Of course, he had a girlfriend. How could someone like him not have a girlfriend?
“Hi, Y/N. Nice to meet you,” Giselle said politely, though her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. She studied you, her gaze curious, as if trying to figure out your connection to Jay.
You forced a smile, willing your voice to sound steady. “Hi. Nice to meet you, too.” But the strain in your tone betrayed you, and you cringed inwardly at how obvious it sounded.
Giselle’s attention shifted back to Jay, who began explaining how the two of you met. Halfway through his story, you blurted out, “I should go. It was really nice to meet you, Giselle. I can see why Jay would fall for you.”
You smiled, but the sadness in your eyes was unmistakable. If Giselle noticed, she didn’t show it, happily bidding you goodbye as she rested her head on Jay’s shoulder.
But Jay noticed. He saw the way your usual spark had dimmed, the way your gaze flickered with hurt when it shifted from him to Giselle. A pang of guilt tugged at his chest, but he quickly pushed it aside, chalking it up to excitement at seeing his girlfriend.
“Y/N—wait,” Jay called out as he watched you gather your things, already halfway to the door.
“Bye, Jay,” you whispered, your voice soft but resolute.
Jay frowned, the ache in his chest growing as he watched you leave. There was no see you tomorrow or see you again soon—just bye.
He exhaled deeply, his chest tightening as he stared at the closed door, your figure growing smaller in the distance.
The shop felt colder after you left, the faint jingle of the door chime lingering in the air. Jay’s eyes stayed fixed on the spot where you’d stood moments before, his jaw tightening slightly. He barely registered Giselle’s hand sliding into his, her cheerful voice breaking through the sudden heaviness in his chest.
“Who is she?” Giselle asked, her tone light, but the underlying curiosity was unmistakable.
Jay blinked, forcing himself to refocus. “She’s a regular,” he said casually, rubbing the back of his neck. “She’s really into music, so we hit it off talking about records.”
Giselle raised an eyebrow, her perfectly manicured nails tapping against the counter. “You seem close,” she said, her words measured. “She looked… comfortable here.”
Jay hesitated, sensing where this was headed. “She’s just a friend,” he said quickly, though the words felt strangely hollow as they left his mouth.
Giselle didn’t reply immediately, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly as if she were trying to read between the lines. “Hmm. A friend, huh?” She let the word hang in the air before shrugging, a smile spreading across her lips. “Well, as long as that’s all she is.”
But Jay felt the weight of her gaze, even as she moved to pick up a vinyl from the shelf. For a moment, he considered telling her more—explaining the connection you two had, how effortless it felt—but something stopped him. Maybe it was the way Giselle leaned into him, her confidence unwavering, or maybe it was the faint trace of guilt bubbling in his chest.
As they left the shop together, Giselle chatting animatedly about her plans for the evening, Jay found his thoughts drifting back to you. He replayed the look on your face when he introduced Giselle—the flicker of pain you tried so hard to mask. It had been subtle, but it was there, and it gnawed at him.
You, on the other hand, were trying to pull yourself together as you walked briskly down the dimly lit street. The ache in your chest was sharp, but you scolded yourself for feeling it. How could you have let yourself get so carried away?
Of course, Jay had a girlfriend—someone stunning, confident, and poised, someone who seemed perfect for him. What had you been thinking? That you, with your hesitant smiles and awkward jokes, could be someone special to him?
Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and for a moment, you thought it might be Jay. But it wasn’t—it was a message from Sunghoon, your classmate about an upcoming project. Letting out a shaky breath, you tucked your phone away and kept walking, refusing to let yourself look back toward the shop.
Later that night, Jay sat on the edge of his bed, his phone in his hand. Giselle had fallen asleep beside him, her even breathing filling the quiet room. He stared at the screen, debating whether to text you.
A part of him knew he shouldn’t. He had no reason to—no justification for reaching out beyond the nagging feeling in his chest that he couldn’t shake. But as his thumb hovered over your name in his contacts, he stopped himself.
Instead, he locked his phone and leaned back, staring up at the ceiling. Giselle shifted slightly beside him, murmuring something in her sleep, and he turned his head to look at her. She was beautiful, kind, and everything he thought he wanted.
So why couldn’t he stop thinking about the way your voice had trembled when you said goodbye?
And why, when he closed his eyes, was it your face that lingered in his mind?
It had been a month since you stopped visiting Jay at the record shop. Neither of you had reached out—no texts, no calls, no accidental run-ins. On the surface, everything seemed normal. You fell back into your routine: hanging out with your friends, spinning the same familiar vinyl records, letting music fill the void. But deep down, you knew it wasn’t the same.
How could it be, when your thoughts kept drifting back to him? The silver-haired boy with warm, expressive eyes. The boy whose dimple only appeared on his left cheek when he smiled. The boy with that small, barely noticeable mole between his brows, leaning slightly to the left.
You couldn't forget him, no matter how hard you tried.
Many nights, your thumb hovered over his contact, debating whether to message him. Maybe you could send a song—something by Mac Miller, perhaps—and pretend it didn’t mean anything. But each time, you stopped yourself.
He had Giselle. He was happy with her. And who were you to ruin that?
Sighing, you locked your phone and let it fall onto your bed, as the second verse of Daniel Caesar’s Valentina played softly in the background. The lyrics seemed to mock your longing, your hesitation, your inability to move on.
Across town, Jay was struggling with his own thoughts.
Every shift at the shop felt emptier without you. Every time the door chimed, his head snapped up, hoping—praying—to see the girl with the mole on her neck, the one that matched his birthmark, just on the opposite side.
You.
The girl who had the same music taste as him. The girl who loved mint chocolate despite his protests.
Jay knew it was wrong—so wrong—to be thinking of you while Giselle stood by his side. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop.
He remembered the way your eyes lit up when he handed you that vinyl, the soft smile you gave him as you watched him play the guitar. Those moments played on a loop in his mind, haunting him with what could’ve been.
His shoulders slumped every time the door opened, only to reveal someone else. You were nowhere to be found. And the shop—once his sanctuary—felt hollow without you there.
It was strange, this emptiness that had taken root in his chest. You weren’t just a customer or a casual friend. You had seen him. The real him. Not the charming, silver-haired boy everyone else knew, but the boy who could talk for hours about Oasis, who played guitar on quiet afternoons, who laughed at stupid arguments about ice cream flavors.
You had understood him in a way that no one else did—not even Giselle.
And now, you were gone.
Days turned into weeks, and Jay started to believe he’d never see you again. Maybe you hated him. Maybe you were angry that he hadn’t told you about Giselle sooner.
Or maybe he had imagined the connection altogether.
But the memory of the sadness in your eyes that day—your voice strained when you said goodbye—stuck with him. It made him wonder. Did you like me?
The thought filled him with equal parts hope and guilt.
Jay sighed, dragging a hand through his silver hair as he stared out the shop window. The world outside seemed as distant as the one he shared with you, the one that had slipped away before he even realized how much it mattered.
He wanted to see you again.
But did you feel the same?
The air in the record shop felt heavier these days. Jay had tried to distract himself, pouring his energy into curating the shelves, perfecting his playlists, and helping customers find hidden gems. But none of it filled the quiet void you’d left behind.
One evening, as the shop neared closing, Jay sat on the wooden stool where he used to play Veronica for you. He strummed absentmindedly, his fingers faltering on the chords. “Beside You” by Keshi came to mind, and he played the opening notes, but the melody felt hollow without you there to listen.
“Why does it feel like I lost something I never even had?” he muttered to himself, letting his hands fall into his lap.
You thought you’d have to get over Jay in your own time, quietly and painfully. But apparently, your friends had other plans.
“Y/N, we’re going to Park Me Up,” Jake announced after class, his voice brimming with excitement as you zipped up your bag.
You froze for a moment, trying to think of an excuse. “Oh, I, uh… I need to go somewhere. To buy cupcakes,” you blurted out, wincing at how unconvincing it sounded even to you.
Jake gave you a deadpan look before his lips curved into a playful pout, his puppy-dog eyes locking onto yours.
“Aw, come on, Y/N! Ning Ning needs our help picking out a gift for Beomgyu. His bandmates decided on a guitar for his birthday, and she’s clueless. It’ll be fun! Don’t be a party pooper,” he said, clasping your hand for dramatic effect.
Before you could protest further, Ning Ning and Sunoo appeared out of nowhere, already hyped about the plan. They didn’t even give you a chance to escape—Jake grabbed one arm, Sunoo grabbed the other, and Ning Ning cheerfully led the way.
“Guys, I really don’t think I should—”
“Too late, Y/N!” Ning Ning sang, ignoring your protests.
You sighed in defeat, letting them drag you toward the destination. Park Me Up wasn’t just any guitar shop—it was Jay’s guitar shop.
The thought sent a wave of dread through you.
The shop was just as you remembered it: cozy, filled with the scent of polished wood and vinyl records. The familiar bell jingled as the four of you stepped inside.
You scanned the counter immediately, your heart pounding, but Jay wasn’t there. Instead, his uncle, Peter, stood behind the register, greeting your group with a warm smile.
“Welcome in, folks! Let me know if you need any help. Oh, hey, Y/N, haven’t seen you around lately. Jay’s been chewing my ear off asking if you’ve stopped by. Pretty sure his neck must be sore from how much he cranes it looking for you,” Peter teased.
Jay? He’s been looking for me? Why? A flush crept up your cheeks, your heart racing even faster at the thought of Jay being nearby.
Your friends glanced at you in confusion as you hovered awkwardly near the entrance, trying to stay out of sight.
“Jay?” Danielle tilted her head curiously, while Sunoo snickered.
“Jay’s my nephew,” Peter explained, leaning casually against the counter. “He and Y/N here hit it off pretty well. She was here so often, I was even considering paying her for helping out around the shop.”
His warm eyes sparkled with amusement, so reminiscent of Jay’s, but his words left you flustered.
Jake’s brows shot up as he smirked at you, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Ooh, hit it off pretty well, huh?”
“It’s—it’s not like that,” you stammered, voice dropping to a whisper. “Jay has a girlfriend. We just had a lot in common, that’s all.” The word girlfriend cut like a knife, the ache in your chest returning.
Your friends didn’t press further, shrugging it off as they scattered toward the guitar section. But Jake lingered, his brow furrowing as he noticed you rooted in place. Without hesitation, he grabbed your hand, tugging lightly.
“Y/N, come on!” Jake urged. “You’re supposed to be helping!”
Just then, the sound of shuffling from the storage room caught everyone’s attention. A moment later, Jay stumbled out, brushing dust from his silver hair.
“Uncle, did you just mention Y/N? Is she here? I swear i heard her voice,” he asked, his voice quick and eager as his eyes darted around the shop—until they landed on you.
The world seemed to slow as your eyes met his, and your heart leapt into your throat. How was it possible for him to look even better, with the roots of his hair starting to grow out, giving him an effortless charm? You swallowed hard, almost breaking eye contact, afraid Jay might see through the carefully constructed facade you’d built to convince everyone—yourself included—that you were fine. Just like he always did.
His gaze shifted downward to where Jake’s hand still held yours, and you swore you saw something flicker in his expression. His brows furrowed slightly, but was it disappointment? Anger? Defeat? You couldn’t tell, but the uncertainty sent a shiver down your spine.
“Hi! You must be Jay. I’m Y/N’s boyfriend, Jake,” Jake said smoothly, his voice cutting through the silence, his blatant lie delivered with practiced ease. He was testing a theory, watching Jay’s reaction like a scientist observing an experiment.
Jay’s brow furrowed deeply, the tight-lipped smile he’d worn vanishing in an instant. In its place was a frown, his expression growing colder and more guarded by the second. His gaze shifted from you, but not before you noticed the way his jaw clenched and his shoulders tensed. Was he... jealous? Did this really affect him? The questions raced through your mind as you struggled to process the shift in his demeanor.
Your jaw dropped in shock as you turned to Jake, practically yanking your hand out of his grasp. “He’s not my boyfriend!” you exclaimed, frantically waving your hands in front of your chest as if to dispel the misunderstanding. “I don’t have a boyfriend. He’s just joking! Don’t take it seriously...” Your voice trailed off into an awkward blabber, cheeks flushed as you tried to explain yourself to Jay.
Jake stood to the side, grinning knowingly as he watched the scene unfold. His eyes flicked to Jay, and his suspicions were confirmed when he saw the subtle change in Jay’s posture. The moment you clarified that Jake was joking, Jay’s shoulders eased, and the tension in his jaw loosened, though his guarded expression lingered.
Jake’s grin widened. “Just wanted to see something,” he muttered under his breath, barely loud enough for you to hear, as he stuffed his hands into his pockets.
“Not funny, man,” Jay said, his tone attempting lightness but still laced with a hint of irritation. He glanced briefly at Jake before turning his gaze back to you, his eyes searching yours.
Jake shrugged, clearly unbothered. “Just testing the waters,” he said nonchalantly, giving you a wink. “I’ll leave you two to… whatever this is.” With that, he turned and walked back toward Ning Ning and Sunoo, leaving you alone with Jay.
Jay stepped forward, his movements hesitant, as if testing the waters. “Y/N,” he called softly, his tone laced with a mix of relief and uncertainty.
You stopped, turning to face him. “Hi, Jay,” you replied, trying to keep your voice even despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you.
“It’s been a while,” he said, his hands fidgeting in his pockets. “I… I didn’t think I’d see you again.”
You swallowed hard, your eyes briefly meeting his before darting away. “Yeah, I’ve been… busy.”
Jay took another step closer, the corners of his lips tugging into a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Busy, huh? Too busy to even text?”
His words hit you like a wave, leaving you momentarily speechless. “I thought…” you began hesitantly, your voice barely above a whisper, “I thought it’d be better if I stayed away. You seemed happy. With Giselle.”
Jay’s expression faltered, and he dropped his gaze to the floor, exhaling a slow, measured breath. “Yeah, I’m happy with Giselle,” he admitted quietly, his voice tinged with something you couldn’t quite place. “But that didn’t mean you had to stay away. We’re friends, right?” His tone softened as if he hoped that saying it gently might lessen the weight of the words.
Hearing him confirm his happiness with Giselle was like a dagger to your heart. You nodded numbly, biting your lip in a futile attempt to keep your emotions in check. But your eyes betrayed you, filled with the sadness you desperately tried to hide. It was a cruel reminder that the growing feelings you had for Jay would always be unrequited.
Life seemed to take away the one good thing you had just when you started to believe in it again. You knew better than to come between Jay and Giselle. You knew better than to linger in his life, where your feelings would only deepen, making it harder to pull away. But how could you not fall for him? How could you resist the silver-haired boy who made your heart race, who smelled like cedar and coffee, whose hair fell into his face as he played your favorite songs with that endearing focus?
A bitter laugh escaped your lips, masking the sound of your heart breaking. “I know I might not mean anything to you,” you began, voice trembling, “and you might not even care, but I don’t think I can stay friends with you, Jay.” Your words cracked as tears threatened to spill. “Because I know I’d just keep falling for you. And you have Giselle. I’m glad you’re happy with her. I don’t want to ruin the good thing you have in your life.”
Your voice dropped to a whisper, but the quiver betrayed the storm raging inside you. Jay’s eyes snapped to yours, his face softening as he registered the raw emotion you couldn’t conceal. You were on the brink of breaking, and both of you knew it.
Jay’s eyes widened as your words sank in, the color draining from his face. He took a small step closer, his hand twitching like he wanted to reach for you but stopped himself. “Y/N,” he started, his voice cracking. “It’s not… it’s not like that.”
You forced a smile, though your trembling lips betrayed the façade. “It’s okay, Jay,” you said softly, your voice laced with heartbreak. “You don’t have to explain. You don’t owe me anything.”
Jay opened his mouth, but no words came out. His heart ached at the sight of you—so vulnerable, so heartbreakingly honest. He felt like the worst kind of person, watching you lay your emotions bare before him, offering your heart only for him to crush it. And the worst part? He knew you anticipated his response. You always understood him too well, the uncanny compatibility between you two making it all the harder for him to let this moment pass.
But before he could say anything, you spoke again, your voice trembling with raw emotion. “I think…” you began, your tone fragile, “I think it’s best for us to just leave this as it is, Jay.”
Your words came out as a plea, each one pulling at his chest. You blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears from falling, but the strain in your voice betrayed how close you were to breaking. Sniffling quickly, you kept your gaze fixed on the ground, refusing to look at him. You couldn’t bear to see the pity—or worse, indifference—in his eyes.
“I wish you well, Jay,” you choked out, barely managing to suppress a sob as you turned to leave, each step away from him feeling like it might break you entirely.
Jay froze, the words lodging in his throat as he watched you crumble before him. He wanted to reach out, to pull you into his arms and tell you that you were wrong—that he didn’t want to leave things like this. But your trembling voice, laced with heartbreak, stopped him in his tracks.
“Y/N…” he whispered, his voice laden with desperation, as if searching for the right words to hold you there. His mind raced, trying to form an explanation, an excuse—anything to stop you from walking away.
But you shook your head quickly, a silent plea for him not to make this even harder. “Don’t, Jay. Please,” you interrupted, your voice trembling, your resolve wavering as the words hung in the air.
He froze, his throat tightening at the finality in your tone.
Jay’s chest tightened, the weight of your words suffocating him. “You weren’t wrong,” he said, his voice breaking. “You weren’t wrong about us.”
You offered him a sad smile, one that didn’t reach your eyes. “But it doesn’t matter, does it?”
He stepped closer, his presence warm yet hesitant, his hand hovering just inches from yours. For a moment, it seemed like he might take your hand, his fingers twitching with an unspoken yearning. But he hesitated, his hand lingering in the air, uncertain and desperate. It was as if he wasn’t sure if he had the right to hold onto you, to ask you to stay.
“It matters to me,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper, but the weight of his words carried straight to your heart. His gaze burned into yours, raw and unguarded, his emotions laid bare. “You matter to me, but not in the way you want it to be. ”
The vulnerability in his tone, the way his voice cracked slightly at the end, made your breath catch. You wanted to believe him, wanted to trust those words, but the pain in your chest reminded you of the boundaries that couldn’t be crossed. Still, his proximity, the sincerity in his eyes, made it harder to walk away.
Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you let yourself believe him. But the hurt was too deep, the scars too fresh. You knew you mattered, just not the way you wanted it to be. You took a step back, creating a physical barrier between you that mirrored the emotional one you were building.
“Bye, Jay,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you turned and walked away.
Jay stood there, rooted to the spot, watching you leave for the second time. He wanted to chase after you, to tell you everything he couldn’t put into words, but his feet refused to move. He could only watch as the person who had come to mean so much to him disappeared from his life, leaving him with a hollow ache in his chest and the echoes of what could have been.
For both of you, the goodbye felt final, even though your hearts whispered that it didn’t have to be.
Your friends exchanged bewildered glances, their confusion palpable, but you didn’t turn back. You couldn’t. With each step, the weight of your feelings threatened to crush you, but you forced yourself forward, knowing it was the only way to protect your heart.
“Hey, Jay,” Jake started cautiously, his voice steady but low. “What just happened?”
Jay’s gaze remained fixed on the door you’d just walked through, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. He couldn’t bring himself to answer. How could he possibly explain what had just transpired?
Sunoo sighed, placing a hand on Jake’s shoulder. “I think we should give them space,” he said softly, gesturing toward the door. “Let’s go check on Y/N.”
The group nodded in agreement, leaving Jay standing there, his silver hair catching the dim light of the shop. His uncle’s voice broke the silence.
“Jay,” Peter said gently, coming out from behind the counter. “You care about her, don’t you?”
Jay’s shoulders slumped, and he let out a shaky breath. “Yeah,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “I do.”
Peter gave him a sympathetic look, his brow furrowing in thought. “Then maybe it’s time you figure out what you really want. Don’t let her slip away without a fight, Jay. Not if she means this much to you.”
Jay nodded, but his heart felt heavy. He didn’t know if he deserved to fight for you after everything he’d put you through. But he did know one thing—losing you felt like losing a part of himself.
As the shop grew quiet again, Jay sat down on the stool, his hand instinctively reaching for Veronica. He strummed a few chords aimlessly, his mind replaying every moment he’d shared with you. The sound of the door chime echoed in the background, but this time, it wasn’t you walking through. It was emptiness, a reminder of what he had just lost.
Months had slipped by, yet Jay was still a ghost in your thoughts. You told yourself you were over him—that time and distance had healed the wound. But every now and then, a memory of his warm smile or the shared laughter over an inside joke would surface, and you couldn’t help but chuckle softly to yourself. It was fleeting, but the ache it brought lingered.
You convinced yourself you’d moved on. After all, you no longer visited the shop, no longer hovered over his contact late at night. But distance, as they say, often makes the heart grow fonder. Deep down, you knew your feelings for Jay weren’t just a fleeting crush or infatuation. They were deeper, more real than you wanted to admit.
On days when the ache felt unbearable, you found yourself wandering near the record shop. You told yourself it was coincidence, that it wasn’t intentional. But each time, your gaze would be drawn to the glass panel, and there he was. Sometimes he’d sit at the counter, lost in thought, his lips forming a soft pout. Other times, he’d strum Veronica on the stool where you used to sit, or move around the shop, chatting animatedly with customers.
And sometimes, just sometimes, it felt like he sensed your presence. His head would turn suddenly, eyes scanning the street. Your heart would leap, and you’d duck behind a pillar, pulse racing as if caught in a forbidden act. Surely, he hadn’t seen you. Right?
Eventually, you stopped. Sunoo, ever the voice of reason, had convinced you that spying from a distance wouldn’t help you move on. You listened. Or at least, you tried.
But Jay had noticed. Every time you came, he saw you—your wide eyes peeking around the corner, the way you hurriedly hid whenever he looked up. He felt a pull to step outside, to call your name, to close the distance between you. Yet, he held back. He told himself it wasn’t fair—to you, to Giselle, to the delicate balance of their lives. He was happy with Giselle—or at least, that’s what he repeated to himself.
So why did thoughts of you creep in when he wasn’t paying attention? Why did he catch himself searching for your laugh in the shop’s quiet, or remembering the way your eyes lit up when he played your favorite song? Could it be that he was falling for you too?
When he realized you’d stopped coming entirely, the tightening in his chest was unbearable. Did you finally move on? Had you met someone who played the guitar better than he could? Someone who shared your love for mint chocolate? The idea was suffocating, but he couldn’t shake it.
And for the first time in a long while, Jay wasn’t sure if he’d made the right choice.
One evening, Jay and Giselle went out for dinner, a rare chance to unwind amidst their busy schedules. After their meal, Giselle beamed, her eyes lighting up as she suggested, “Let’s grab some ice cream. There’s a new shop just down the block.”
Jay nodded, following her lead as they strolled into the cozy shop, the warm lights and cheerful atmosphere inviting them in. The server greeted them with a bright smile. “Welcome! Would you like to try our new flavors?” they asked enthusiastically, motioning to the chalkboard menu listing options in colorful script.
As Giselle scanned the choices, debating between strawberry basil and caramel pretzel, Jay’s eyes drifted over the menu absentmindedly. When the server turned to him, he surprised himself by blurting out, “I’ll have a cup of mint chocolate, please.”
Giselle’s head snapped toward him, a puzzled expression on her face. “Wait, mint chocolate? Don’t you hate that flavor?” she asked, her voice tinged with amusement and disbelief.
Jay froze for a moment, caught off guard by his own decision. The truth was, he hadn’t been thinking about himself when he ordered. He’d been thinking of you. Memories of your playful arguments over ice cream flooded his mind—how you’d stubbornly defended mint chocolate while accusing him of having the palate of a goat for liking matcha. He could almost hear your voice now, teasing and full of life, and the thought made his lips curl into a faint smile.
“Oh, yeah,” he said, trying to play it off casually. “Y/N used to love mint chocolate. She always said it didn’t taste like toothpaste. One time, I told her matcha was better, and she told me to eat grass instead.”
Giselle laughed softly, though there was a flicker of something in her eyes—curiosity, perhaps, or even unease. “Sounds like you and Y/N had a lot of… interesting debates.”
“Yeah,” Jay admitted, his voice quieter now. He didn’t elaborate, but as he took the first bite of the ice cream, a wave of nostalgia hit him. It was bittersweet, much like the flavor he once swore he disliked.
“I haven’t seen her around the shop lately. Did something happen between the two of you?” Giselle asked, her voice light but her gaze sharp, studying Jay’s reaction.
Jay’s brows furrowed as flashes of memory ran through his mind—your tearful goodbye, the way you’d pulled away from him, the words you’d whispered, so final and resolute. His chest tightened, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. He hated how those memories stirred feelings he couldn’t quite name, feelings that made him want to clutch onto them selfishly, as if preserving them for himself would somehow keep you closer.
“Yeah, uh… we’re not really friends anymore,” Jay said lightly, though his tone betrayed him. The seriousness in his voice, the subtle edge, told Giselle everything she needed to know. “But I don’t really want to talk about it.”
Giselle raised an eyebrow, intrigued but cautious. Jay wasn’t one to dwell on relationships that ended; he always kept his circle small, rarely letting people in. Usually, it was just his longtime friends—Heeseung and Sunghoon—who truly knew him. But you? You had broken through those walls in a matter of weeks. How had you done it?
Even Giselle, who had been dating Jay for months, had taken her time to chip away at his guarded exterior. Yet, with you, it seemed effortless. It gnawed at her—a quiet curiosity mixed with something she didn’t want to name.
Giselle studied Jay’s face, noticing the slight tension in his jaw and the way his grip on the ice cream cup tightened. It was rare for Jay to get so guarded, especially with her. She had always admired his calm and collected demeanor, but this was different. This was about you.
“You don’t want to talk about it?” Giselle repeated softly, her voice gentle but probing. “Jay, you know you can tell me anything, right?”
Jay exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair as if trying to shake off the weight of the conversation. He met Giselle’s gaze, his expression unreadable. “It’s not about not trusting you,” he said carefully. “It’s just... complicated.”
Giselle nodded slowly, though the curiosity in her eyes remained. “Complicated how?” she pressed, her tone still soft but laced with concern.
Jay hesitated, torn between the desire to keep the memories of you to himself and the need to reassure Giselle. “She... meant a lot to me,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, almost as if he were confessing something. “We connected in a way that felt different, you know? But it’s over now. She walked away, and I let her.”
Giselle’s brows furrowed at his words. “Different how?” she asked, the question slipping out before she could stop herself.
Jay paused, searching for the right words. “She just... got me,” he said finally. “In a way that didn’t feel forced or complicated. It was easy. She understood things about me that I didn’t even have to explain.”
Giselle’s heart sank at his honesty. She couldn’t ignore the pang of jealousy that crept into her chest, but she pushed it aside. “And what about us?” she asked, her voice tinged with vulnerability. “Do you feel that way with me?”
Jay’s eyes widened slightly, guilt flashing across his face. “Of course I do,” he said quickly, reaching out to take her hand. “Giselle, you’re amazing. You’re my girlfriend. This isn’t about comparing anyone to you. It’s just... a chapter in my life that I wasn’t expecting, and now it’s closed.”
But even as the words left his lips, Jay couldn’t ignore the hollow ache in his chest. Because while he might have closed that chapter, it didn’t mean he had stopped rereading it in his mind. And the more he tried to convince himself otherwise, the more your name lingered on the tip of his tongue.
You sat in the library with your project partner, Sunghoon, discussing how to split the workload. You realized that, despite his quiet demeanor, Sunghoon was actually pretty funny. He often described himself as a "loud introvert," and the more you got to know him, the more you agreed with that description. He gradually integrated into your friend group, quickly becoming close with everyone.
As school grew busier, you started pushing aside the feelings you had for Jay and focused on your studies. With Sunghoon, you managed to score a high grade on your assignment, leading you both to agree to partner up for every project from then on.
To celebrate the end of the school term, your friend group decided to take a trip to Rome, Italy. Everyone was excited to experience the breathtaking architecture. But, as always, life had other plans.
On your second day in Rome, Sunghoon suggested visiting a vinyl shop he had read about online. It wasn’t surprising; you’d come to learn that Sunghoon shared your love for music and had an appreciation for vintage records.
“I need to grab a gift for a friend,” Sunghoon explained as you both waited for a taxi. “He’s really into vinyls. Works in his uncle’s guitar shop.”
The mention of a guitar shop made you freeze for a moment, Jay’s face flashing in your mind. But you quickly pushed the thought aside. Rome was a big city; there was no way this could be connected.It had been a while since you'd last seen him or even spoken to him, and you couldn't help but wonder how he was doing. But the memory of him telling you that he couldn’t see you as more than a friend still lingered, and it made your heart ache even after all this time.
You were standing outside a café, scanning for a place to sit. You noticed a table with a guy sitting alone, an empty seat across from him. Something about the broad shoulders felt familiar. For a moment, you thought it was Jay, but then you remembered that Jay had silver hair, not black, and you doubted he would be in Rome. But you were completely wrong.
Summoning your courage, you walked over to the boy, tapping him lightly on the shoulder. You tried to sound cheerful, “Hi, I’m so sorry to bother you, but would it be possible to share the table? I’m just waiting for someone.” You flashed your best smile, attempting to appear friendly.
But as soon as he looked up, your breath caught. Sitting at the table with a book in hand was Jay, Jongseong. You gasped in shock, and his surprised gaze met yours.
His gaze shifted from confusion to surprise, and then to something you couldn't quite place—longing? Relief? Happiness?
"Y/N?" Jay's voice was filled with disbelief. "Is that you?"
"Jay? What are you doing here?" you responded, equally shocked. How was he in Rome?
You took a moment to take in his appearance—his silver hair was now dyed back to black, and he wore a pair of black-framed glasses perched on his nose. His outfit was simple: a black shirt, blue jeans, and Rick Owens sneakers, yet somehow he looked even more handsome. You couldn’t help but notice the other female customers in the café subtly glancing in his direction, likely drawn to his effortless charm.
Suddenly, the feelings you had buried for so long began to resurface—faster and more intensely than you had expected. You missed him. You missed him more than you cared to admit. You hadn’t expected to see Jay again, but here he was, in front of you, and everything about this moment felt overwhelming.
When Jay felt a tap on his shoulder, he was expecting it to be Giselle, ready to tell him it was time to go. To be honest, the only reason he was even in Rome was for the vinyls and guitar shops—he knew there would be rare finds, given how long some of the shops had been around.
But he didn’t expect to see you.
You were standing in front of him, wearing a sundress in his favorite color—green. The way you smiled brightly at him, only to pause when you realized it was him, made his chest tighten. You looked so beautiful in that dress, the fabric flowing all the way down to your ankles, making you look like something straight out of a fairy tale. Jay’s heart began to race as he took you in, unable to tear his eyes away.
His mind raced, thoughts colliding with the reality of the situation. How was it possible that after all this time, here you were—standing in front of him in Rome? The emotions he had carefully tucked away began to surface again, sharper than before. The feelings he had suppressed, buried in the quiet moments when he let himself think of you, were now resurfacing with an intensity he wasn’t prepared for.
“I–you–how?” Jay’s voice came out as a strained whisper, his words caught in his throat. He missed you, he truly did. It wasn’t right to feel this way when he had Giselle, but he couldn’t help it. Not when you were standing there, wearing his favorite color, looking so beautiful with the sunlight catching your hair. His heart ached, watching the way your smile faltered after you recognized him.
“I’m here with Giselle,” he said, his voice low, almost as if trying to explain himself, “She wanted to go on a trip.”
The way your eyes dimmed at the mention of her made a sharp pain hit his chest. He didn’t know why it hurt so much, but that wasn’t important right now. He needed to talk to you. He needed to know how you were doing, how school had been, how you were holding up. He wanted to tell you that he had changed his mind about mint chocolate, that he now secretly liked it, and how he couldn’t stop listening to White Ferrari by Frank Ocean because the lyrics reminded him of you. He needed to know if you had moved on from him, if you were okay.
Before he could say any of this, you spoke. “I think I should go. Sorry to bother you. Have a good trip, Jay.” Your voice was soft, and Jay could hear the pain you tried to hide, the yearning that lingered beneath your words. How much you missed talking to him, how much you missed watching him play Veronica.
“Wait—Y/N.” His hand shot out, grabbing your wrist gently but firmly, holding you in place as he stood up.
“Please don’t run away from me again,” Jay’s voice was softer now, but it trembled with vulnerability. The desperation in his words made his chest ache, and the way he looked at you, his gaze so open and raw, left no room for doubt—he needed you to stay.
He knew deep down it was wrong. So, so wrong. But in that moment, all he could think about was how much he longed to see you again.
“Jay? What are you—who’s that? Oh, y/n?” Giselle’s voice sliced through the tension as she neared the two of you, her footsteps faltering slightly as she took in the scene.
Giselle's voice rang out sharply, pulling Jay’s attention toward her. Her eyes, once confident, now flickered with something unsettling. As she got closer, the look of confusion and concern on her face grew. She took in the sight of Jay still holding onto your wrist, the gentle way his fingers were wrapped around you. His gaze was soft, almost pleading, something that made her heart twist. She could feel the weight of the shift in the air, the subtle change in Jay's demeanor, and she knew something was different.
The sight of him looking at you like that, so vulnerable and open, made her stomach churn with unease. Giselle had always been sure of Jay—sure of the way he looked at her, sure of the space he made for her in his life. But now, it felt like something was slipping out of her grasp, something she couldn’t quite define.
She knew about Jay’s past relationships—how his exes would beg him to take them back, and yet he never budged. Jay had always been laidback, never one to push things or chase anyone. He’d let things happen naturally, even if that meant moving on when things got tough. But this? This was different.
As she studied you, her gaze softened just a little, but it was enough for you to feel the shift. She could tell by the way you carried yourself that there was more to your relationship with Jay than just a casual meeting. There was history in the way he held your wrist, in the way his eyes searched yours for something he seemed to have lost. It wasn’t hard to see it now. Giselle had been with Jay for long enough to know the subtleties of his body language, but she had never seen him like this. Never seen him plead with anyone.
The jealousy bubbled up in her chest, rising faster than she could control it. She hated feeling like this, but she couldn’t stop it. The effortless way you had him wrapped around your finger was something she could never seem to achieve. No matter how hard she tried to get close to him, how much effort she put into learning about his music, his favorite bands, his quirks—Jay had always been a little distant, a little elusive, like he was holding something back.
But with you? It was different. The connection was palpable, even if it was unspoken. You had always been able to reach him in ways she couldn’t, and the sight of him wanting to talk to you, to stay with you, made her feel invisible.
As Giselle’s gaze turned bitter, she watched Jay’s grip on your wrist loosen, his hand dropping back to his side, defeated. She saw you step back, but the look in your eyes—mirroring Jay’s longing—was all the confirmation she needed. You weren’t just infatuated with her boyfriend; you were in love with him. You were in love with Jay.
“Y/n, what a coincidence!”
Giselle’s smile was tight, laced with an air of false cheerfulness as she greeted you. The subtle intertwining of her fingers with Jay’s was intentional— a clear display of ownership, a silent message that she wasn’t going anywhere. She wanted you to see it, wanted you to feel the distance between you and Jay, wanted you to know that no matter the history, the connection, or the lingering feelings that might still exist, Jay was hers. And she would make sure you understood that.
Jay’s fingers curled against hers, a motion so small, yet filled with so much meaning. Giselle wasn’t sure if it was a silent reassurance for her or a subtle signal to her, telling her not to overstep, not to push too far. He wasn’t looking at her as much as he was looking at you—his gaze was distant, almost apologetic, as though there was a silent conversation going on between the three of you without words. But Giselle was determined to play her part, to hold onto what she thought was hers.
She watched you, her eyes narrowing just slightly, noticing the way your gaze flickered to their intertwined hands, the way your lips pressed into a thin line as the sadness in your eyes became undeniable. For a moment, Giselle felt a flicker of guilt. She could see it in your eyes—the resignation, the hurt, the unspoken words. But that flicker was fleeting, quickly buried beneath a layer of pride and possessiveness.
She watched your expression falter, the realization hitting that the distance between you and Jay was no longer something you could ignore. The subtle disappointment in your face was enough for her to feel a cruel satisfaction. It was like the pieces of a puzzle falling into place. Giselle wasn’t stupid—she could read the way Jay’s body language changed when he was around you, the way his eyes lingered a little too long, the way his tone softened. She could feel it now—the same undercurrent of something that had once been hers. And she wasn’t about to let that slip away without a fight.
The quiet ache in her chest was still there, but it was drowned out by the heat of her jealousy, her insecurity, her need to win. And if that meant pushing you to your breaking point, to make you feel as small and as invisible as possible, then she was willing to do whatever it took. You weren’t going to be the one to take him away. Not after all the effort she had put in to build her life with him.
As Giselle turned her head to kiss Jay on the lips, she heard the small gasp escape from you, and in that moment, she knew she had won.
Your heart shattered, watching Giselle kiss Jay. You wished it could be you, to hold his hand, to feel his arms around you, to feel his lips against yours. But that would never happen, not when all Jay saw you as was a friend. You wanted to turn and walk away, but the ache in your chest kept you rooted to the ground, helplessly watching the scene before you.
Silently, you prayed for someone—anyone—to pull you from the situation. It felt like the universe answered your silent plea when Sunghoon arrived.
“Y/n, let’s go—Jay?” Sunghoon’s voice called out, confusion creeping into his tone as he noticed Jay standing in front of you.
“Hoon?” Jay responded, just as confused, wondering how you and Sunghoon knew each other.
“What are you doing here?” Both of them asked in unison.
“I’m here with Giselle for a holiday. You? How’d you know Y/n?” Jay cleared his throat, trying to keep things lighthearted, though his voice held an edge of protectiveness that Giselle quickly noticed.
Sunghoon glanced back and forth between you and Jay before offering Giselle a polite smile in greeting.
“You guys know each other? Y/n, that’s the friend I told you about who works at a guitar shop. That’s Jay,” Sunghoon explained, oblivious to the tension in the air.
Ah, so they were friends.
Before anyone could say another word, Giselle cut through the silence, her voice a little too bright. “Oh my god, are you guys dating? Jay, look at their matching bracelet! It’s so cute. Should we get one too?” She gestured toward the friendship bracelet that Jungwon had made your whole friend group get, but since the others weren’t around, it made it look like you and Sunghoon were a couple.
Jay’s breath hitched. Were you dating Sunghoon now? How did he not know about this? Sunghoon had never mentioned anything about you when they hung out. Why were you alone with him?
You wanted to explain, to deny the accusation, because it felt wrong to even entertain the thought of being with someone other than Jay. But as your eyes locked with Giselle’s, she gave you a look that made it clear what she was trying to do. You could feel the guilt washing over you. No matter how hard you tried to distance yourself from Jay, the pull was still there.
So, with a heavy heart, you nodded and whispered, “Yeah, we’ve been dating for a while now. We’re in the same class, and we got closer.” You rushed the words out, hoping they sounded convincing.
Sunghoon looked down at you, his brow furrowing in confusion, but he knew better than to expose your lie in front of everyone now. He played along, extending his hand to hold yours.
“Sorry I didn’t tell you guys sooner. I just wanted to find the right time to properly introduce her,” Sunghoon lied smoothly, glancing at Jay.
The weight of the lie you just told settled heavily in your chest. Every word felt like a betrayal, not just to Jay, but to yourself. You could see the confusion flicker in his eyes, the way his lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to ask more, to understand, but he couldn’t. Instead, he swallowed whatever questions he had, and his gaze drifted to Sunghoon, his brows furrowed.
Giselle, on the other hand, was smiling too brightly. She was the one who had won, the one who had forced your hand. Her expression was smug, satisfied as she watched the situation unfold. When you nodded and agreed with her assumption, it was like she had claimed her victory. The small, almost imperceptible twitch in Jay's expression wasn’t enough to make her question her dominance. Instead, she looked between the two of you, a thin veil of sweetness hiding the bitterness she felt beneath the surface.
Jay couldn’t look at you directly. He turned to Sunghoon, his voice casual, yet there was a hint of uncertainty in it. "I didn’t know you two were... close," he said, the words like they were heavier than they sounded.
You couldn’t help but feel like you were suffocating. Every part of you wanted to reach out to Jay, to tell him the truth, to explain that you never intended for this to happen. That it wasn’t about Sunghoon at all. But Giselle’s gaze held you firmly in place, daring you to break, daring you to unravel.
Sunghoon’s hand on yours felt oddly comforting, but it couldn’t block out the ache in your chest. He squeezed your hand, the pressure there like a silent reassurance. He had always been protective, always there for you when you needed someone. But even in this moment, his presence felt like it wasn’t enough to shield you from the heaviness of the lie. The guilt gnawed at you, the burden of keeping up this façade pulling you further away from the truth.
"Right," Jay said finally, his voice quieter now. He gave a small nod, but it was clear that something was weighing on him. His gaze flickered back to you briefly, but you couldn’t meet his eyes. You couldn’t bear to.
Giselle leaned in a little closer to Jay, her fingers tightening around his. "Well, if you’re all set, I think we should go, baby. We have a lot of things to do, don’t we?" Her tone was overly sweet, but it cut through the tension like a knife. She was reminding everyone who Jay was with, reminding you where you stood.
You nodded, your heart sinking deeper into your chest. "Yeah, you should go. I should go too," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.
Sunghoon gave you a gentle nudge, his thumb brushing against the back of your hand, and you took a step away, trying to escape the suffocating atmosphere. But as you turned away, you caught one last glimpse of Jay—his face unreadable, his body tense. He was still holding onto something, still fighting the pull between you and Giselle, between what was real and what had to be hidden.
You turned your back before your emotions could get the best of you, walking away with Sunghoon by your side. But even as you put distance between yourself and that moment, you knew the lie you had told wouldn’t just fade. It was going to hang over you, a shadow you wouldn’t be able to outrun. And Jay? Well, you had no idea where things stood with him anymore. But you knew one thing for sure—everything had just become so much more complicated.
“What was that?” Sunghoon asked softly once you were out of sight of the couple.
“I didn’t know you two were friends,” you mumbled, your gaze fixed on the ground. “I met Jay when I visited the guitar shop he worked at. We got along really well, and I...” You hesitated, your voice faltering. Sunghoon’s reassuring nod gave you the courage to continue.
“And I fell for him,” you admitted quietly. “But then I found out he was dating Giselle. I tried to move on, Sunghoon. I really did. But now, seeing him here in Rome... it’s like all those feelings are coming back, stronger than before.”
Your voice dropped to a near-whisper, trembling with emotion. “I think I’m in love with him, Sunghoon. But I can’t have him, and it hurts so much.”
Sunghoon stopped walking, his expression serious as he took in your words. He didn't interrupt, letting you speak your heart, and when you finished, there was a long pause. You could feel the weight of the silence between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.
He let out a quiet sigh before looking at you with understanding eyes, his tone soft. “I had no idea you felt that way about Jay,” he said slowly. “I could tell something was off, but I didn’t know it went this deep. You don’t have to carry this burden alone, Y/n.”
You looked up at him, the vulnerability in your eyes showing the rawness of your feelings. "I feel so stupid," you admitted, "for letting myself fall for someone who’s already with someone else. And now I don’t know what to do. I can’t just… turn it off. But seeing him with Giselle, holding her hand, it was like a slap in the face."
Sunghoon’s expression softened, his voice firm and caring. “You’re not stupid, Y/n. Love isn’t something you can control. You can’t just turn it off because it’s inconvenient. And I know it hurts to see him with her, but you have to remember that his relationship with Giselle doesn’t define you. You deserve someone who sees you the way you see them, someone who won’t make you feel like second place.”
You closed your eyes, the weight of his words settling in. You wanted so badly to be that person for Jay, but the reality of the situation made it feel impossible.
“I know,” you whispered. “But it doesn’t change how I feel.”
“I get it,” Sunghoon replied quietly. “And you’re allowed to feel that way. But you have to focus on healing, Y/n. If you keep holding onto something that isn’t yours, it’s only going to hurt more in the long run.” He paused, watching you carefully. “You deserve someone who’s going to choose you, not someone who’s already made their choice.”
Your chest tightened as Sunghoon’s words echoed in your mind. You nodded slowly, but a part of you still longed for something that seemed so far out of reach.
“I don’t know if I can move on from him, Sunghoon,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper.
Sunghoon gently squeezed your hand. “You don’t have to right away. But take it one day at a time. You’ll get through this, Y/n. And no matter what happens, I’m here for you, okay?”
You gave him a small, grateful smile, the first one in what felt like a long time. "Thank you, Hoon. I really needed to hear that."
Jay couldn’t focus on anything Giselle was saying because his thoughts were consumed by you: the way you looked in that green dress, the brightness of your smile. He had always thought he was good at making decisions, at choosing the right path. But sitting alone in a café in Rome, he realized that when it came to you, he didn’t even know what the right thing was anymore.
“Are you falling for her?” Giselle’s voice broke through his thoughts, sharp and accusing. She stared at him, waiting for an answer.
Usually, Jay would have shaken his head defensively, pouring extra effort into reassuring her—just as he always did when she questioned his feelings. But this time, he couldn’t.
When Jay started dating Giselle, he thought she was the one. He pictured himself ten years down the road, marrying her, starting a family. That vision had seemed so clear and solid. But now, everything was blurry. Everything was you.
His head hung low in shame and guilt. He couldn’t bring himself to meet her gaze or deny it. He didn’t want to lie to himself anymore, and he didn’t want to lie to Giselle either.
The sight of Jay’s silence, his lowered head, shattered something inside Giselle. She felt her heart plummet, realizing what he wasn’t saying aloud—that he was starting to fall for someone else, and it was happening right in front of her eyes.
Hurt and sadness flickered across her face as she looked at him. She wasn’t ready to let him go. Not yet. She had loved him dearly and used to feel so secure in their relationship. She never had to question his loyalty or love. Jay had always been kind, warm, respectful—a man anyone would admire. He had been her perfect match.
But then you came into his life, and everything changed. You unraveled their relationship without even trying. She could see it in the way Jay’s face lit up when he talked about you, in the private jokes he’d share that only the two of you could understand. Even when they were out together, he would somehow bring you up.
There were nights when insecurity gnawed at her, especially when she noticed how his shoulders slumped as if he were expecting someone else to walk through the door—someone who wasn’t her. She knew, deep down, that he was looking for you.
Frustration and anger consumed her, and eventually, those feelings overwhelmed her guilt. She sought solace elsewhere. Intak had been a distraction, a way to fill the void left by Jay’s drifting attention. Initially, she felt guilty about going out with Intak while still with Jay, but over time, she convinced herself it wasn’t her fault. It was your fault.
You had turned Jay’s head. You had ruined what they had. And now, standing there, she could feel her anger boiling over, fueled by the bitterness of knowing she had been losing him long before this moment.
“Giselle…” he finally murmured, his voice low and uneven. He looked up, and the heartbreak in her eyes made his chest tighten painfully. “I—I don’t know what to say.”
Jay felt the weight of Giselle’s silence as it stretched between them, the tension thick and suffocating. He could feel her gaze boring into him, searching for answers he wasn’t ready to give. He didn’t have the courage to look at her, his shame tethering him to the ground, keeping his eyes fixed on the polished table in front of him.
The truth was messy, tangled in emotions he didn’t want to acknowledge. He knew it wasn’t fair to Giselle, and he hated himself for it. She didn’t deserve this—not the doubt, not the hesitation, not the betrayal that lingered unspoken between them.
Giselle let out a shaky breath, her hands clenched into fists on her lap. “Do you even realize what you’ve done to me, Jay? Do you know how hard I’ve fought for us, for this relationship, while you—” Her voice broke again, and she took a moment to steady herself. “While you were busy thinking about her?”
Jay flinched at the accusation, the raw truth cutting deeper than he expected. He wanted to deny it, to tell her that it wasn’t like that, but he couldn’t. He didn’t have the right to argue when he knew she was right.
Her words hung heavy in the air, and Jay felt like he couldn’t breathe. He wanted to say something, anything, to make it better, but every word felt hollow, insincere. He could only sit there, his mind racing with thoughts of you, of Giselle, of the tangled mess he had created.
“Do you love her?” Giselle asked suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Jay froze, the question hitting him like a punch to the gut. Love? The word echoed in his mind, stirring up feelings he wasn’t ready to confront. He didn’t know how to answer. All he knew was that when he thought of you, his heart felt full and aching all at once, and the thought of losing you—of never seeing you again—made it hard to breathe.
“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice cracking. “But I think…I think I could.”
Giselle’s breath hitched, and she stood abruptly, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. “I can’t do this right now,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. She grabbed her bag and stormed out of the café, leaving Jay sitting there, alone and drowning in the weight of his guilt and confusion.
For the first time, he wondered if he’d already lost everything he thought he wanted—and if you were the one he’d been searching for all along.
Jay watched Giselle’s silhouette disappear into the distance, a heavy weight settling in his chest. He should feel relief, should focus on being the boyfriend she deserved—but his thoughts were tangled, knotted around you. If he truly loved Giselle, there wouldn’t be room for this ache, this restless longing that clawed at him every time he thought of you.
You weren’t his. You never were. And now you were with Sunghoon, his best friend. It should have been easy to let you go, to convince himself that you belonged to someone else. But watching you walk away again felt like someone had ripped a piece of him out, leaving behind a hollow that pulsed with a dull, relentless pain.
Jay told himself he needed to stop. Stop complicating things, stop dreaming of something that could never be. Maybe you were always destined to be a "what if," a fleeting possibility that would haunt him for years to come. He owed it to Giselle to be better, to finally close the door on these feelings. But before he could force himself to let go, he needed to see you one last time.
Later that night, just as you were trying to convince yourself to sleep, your phone buzzed. The screen lit up with a message from Jay.
“Hey, can we talk?”
Your chest tightened. You stared at the words, your hands trembling as you debated your response. Another text followed almost immediately:
“Please.”
The desperation in that one word hit you like a punch to the gut. You wanted to say no, to protect yourself, to end this painful cycle before it broke you completely. But what right did you have to talk to Jay? You weren’t friends, weren’t lovers. You were barely even anything at all anymore.
Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, the tears already falling as you typed:
“Jay, we can’t. This isn’t right. Please don’t make this harder than it already is. We’re both happy. Maybe it’s time to put an end to this.”
You stared at the message, knowing how false it was. Happy? How could you call this agony happiness? The boy you loved was in someone else’s arms, and yet here you were, lying to him and to yourself.
The moment you hit send, your phone rang. Jay’s name flashed on the screen, and your heart lurched violently. You answered, your voice barely above a whisper.
“Hello?”
“Y/N, I’m— I’m downstairs. At your hotel,” Jay’s voice came through, rushed and uneven, like he was struggling to breathe. “I asked Sunghoon. I’m sorry, but I need to see you. Just for a while… please?”
His words were frantic, pleading. You could hear the urgency, the raw edge to his voice that shattered what little resolve you had left.
“I’ll wait until you come down,” he added, his voice softer now, almost broken, before hanging up.
You gripped your phone tightly, your heart a storm of emotions you couldn’t contain. You hated him for doing this to you, for making it impossible to stay away. But more than that, you hated yourself for never being able to say no to him. Jay was your weakness, your undoing. He was the boy who had stolen your heart so effortlessly and left you with nothing but pain in its place.
Before you knew it, your feet carried you out the door, down the elevator, and into the night. Each step felt heavier than the last, the weight of your emotions pressing down on you.
When you reached the street, you saw him immediately. He was leaning against the wall, head hung low, his hands nervously twisting the jacket he held. As you approached, trying to keep your steps quiet, his head snapped up, his eyes finding yours instantly.
For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence between you felt deafening, loaded with everything you couldn’t say. The world around you faded, the hum of the city dimming as the two of you stood there, suspended in time.
The soft glow of the streetlamp illuminated his face, highlighting the tension in his jaw and the storm in his eyes. He looked at you like you were both the answer to every question and the reason for every problem. And you hated how much you wanted to fall apart right there, in front of him, just to feel his arms catch you.
But you knew better. This was a game you could never win, and yet here you were, ready to lose all over again.
Before you could even process what was happening, Jay closed the distance between you, his hands cradling your face with a mix of urgency and tenderness before his lips crashed onto yours. The kiss was electric, chaotic, and raw, filled with emotions that neither of you had been able to express in words. His lips moved fervently against yours, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, and you felt the weight of his desperation, longing, guilt, and frustration pouring into every movement.
You froze at first, your mind screaming at you to push him away. This was wrong—so, so wrong. He had a girlfriend. You had Sunghoon. This moment wasn’t supposed to exist, and yet, as his warmth enveloped you, you found yourself unable to resist.
You weren’t supposed to enjoy the way his lips felt on yours, the way they ignited a fire in you that you’d tried so hard to extinguish. You weren’t supposed to let your hands drift up to clutch at his shirt, pulling him closer as though he was the only thing keeping you grounded. But you did.
The world around you disappeared, and all that remained was Jay—his touch, his breath, his presence overwhelming you entirely. Your lips moved against his with the same frantic energy, your emotions spilling out in a silent confession. You kissed him back with everything you had, trying to imprint this moment into your memory because deep down, you knew it wouldn’t last.
This wasn’t yours to keep. This wasn’t yours at all. And yet, for this fleeting moment, you allowed yourself to believe that it could be. Tonight, you let yourself forget the consequences, the heartbreak waiting just beyond the glow of the streetlamp. Tonight, you gave yourself to Jay completely, even as your heart fractured under the weight of knowing that this would only ever be a stolen moment.
The world seemed to blur around you as Jay’s lips moved against yours. The cold night air faded, replaced by the heat of the moment, the intensity of emotions you both tried so hard to suppress. His hands were warm, firm yet tender as they cradled your face, grounding you in the whirlwind of feelings you had been running from for so long.
But the weight of reality loomed over you like a shadow, tugging at your conscience even as your heart begged you to stay in this fleeting moment. The kiss was a storm—fierce, unrelenting, and consuming—but you knew storms always passed, leaving devastation in their wake.
“Jay,” you gasped, breaking away, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Your hands, still clutching his shirt, trembled as you looked up at him. His eyes were dark, searching yours for answers, for reassurance, for anything to justify what had just happened.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, but his hands didn’t leave your face. “I just... I couldn’t hold back anymore.”
You shook your head, tears welling up as the weight of what had just happened crashed over you. “This isn’t right, Jay. We can’t do this,” you said, your voice cracking. “You have Giselle. And me—I’m with Sunghoon.” The words felt hollow, but you forced them out, hoping to remind both of you of the lines you’d just crossed.
His jaw tightened at the mention of Sunghoon, and he looked away briefly, as if the thought pained him. “I know,” he said quietly. “I know this is wrong. But I couldn’t stop myself. I needed to see you.” he admitted, his voice laced with regret. “But I can’t stop thinking about you, Y/N. I’ve tried—I’ve tried so hard, but no matter what, you’re always there.”
His confession tore through you, the raw vulnerability in his words igniting something deep within your chest, but the guilt that followed was sharper. “Jay, you don’t understand what this will do to everyone,” you said, wiping at your tears. “This isn’t just about us. Giselle loves you. Sunghoon trusts me. We can’t destroy them for something that might not even last.”
Jay’s jaw tightened, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “Do you really believe that? That this—” he gestured between the two of you, his voice trembling—“is nothing?”
You hesitated, your heart battling your mind, the truth caught in the space between. “I don’t know,” you finally admitted, your voice barely audible. “I don’t know what this is, Jay. But I know it can’t happen like this.”
Jay took a shaky step back, his face falling as the reality of your words sank in. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling deeply as if trying to compose himself. “You’re right,” he said quietly, his tone resigned. “This isn’t fair to anyone.”
You nodded, your chest aching as you watched the boy you loved wrestle with the same emotions tearing you apart. “We need to let this go,” you said, even though the words felt like knives in your throat. “For them. For us.”
Jay looked at you one last time, his eyes filled with sorrow and longing, before nodding slowly. “Goodbye, Y/N,” he said, his voice heavy with finality.
You watched as he turned and walked away, the distance between you growing with each step. You were hoping that he didnt look back, because he would have seen your legs give out, as you sobbed silently, your tears falling freely under the soft glow of the streetlamp.
Tonight was supposed to be the night you let him go, but as you stood there, your heart breaking, you realized letting go was far harder than you could have imagined.
But then, Jay did look back.
He froze when his eyes found you, crouched on the pavement with your head buried in your hands, your shoulders trembling. You weren’t looking at him, but the sight alone cut through him like a blade. He could feel your pain, raw and unrestrained, and it twisted in his chest until he couldn’t breathe.
He knew what this was. He felt it too—the tension, the connection, the pull. But if he felt it so deeply, why couldn’t he take the leap? Why couldn’t he let go of Giselle if every fiber of his being was drawn to you?
Jay knew the answer. Deep down, he was a coward. Afraid of the consequences, afraid of shattering the life he’d built, even if it meant suffocating the part of him that longed for you. He hid behind Giselle, behind the facade of comfort, because facing the truth meant risking everything.
But now, watching you fall apart, something inside him snapped. It was as if an unseen force dragged him back to you. His feet moved before his mind caught up, and suddenly, he was kneeling beside you, his voice trembling as he whispered, “What am I going to do with you?”
His expression was strained, filled with anguish as he reached for you, pulling you into his arms. The warmth of his embrace broke the dam you’d been holding back.
“I missed you so much, Jay,” you sobbed, your voice trembling and raw. “I’m sorry. I know I messed everything up. I complicated things for you, but I’m in love with you. I know you’re not mine to have, but it hurts so much, Jay. I love you, but I know you’re happy with someone else, and I—”
Your words dissolved into breathless cries as Jay tightened his hold on you. His arms wrapped around you as if trying to shield you from the very pain he’d caused, his own silent tears slipping into the night as he held you close. For that moment, the rest of the world didn’t exist—only the two of you, broken and vulnerable under the glow of the streetlamp.
Jay’s heart clenched at your words, each syllable carving deeper into the conflict he carried. He didn’t speak immediately, just held you tighter, his own emotions threatening to spill over as he buried his face in your hair. Your sobs echoed through the quiet street, raw and unfiltered, and for the first time in a long while, he felt utterly powerless.
“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice trembling as he pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your tear-streaked face. His thumb brushed against your cheek, wiping away a stray tear as his own eyes glistened. “I’ve missed you too. More than I should, more than I ever wanted to. You have no idea how many nights I’ve stayed awake thinking about you, wondering what it would be like if things were...different.”
The pain in his voice was undeniable, and it only made your tears fall harder. “Then why, Jay?” you whispered, your voice breaking as you searched his face. “Why can’t we—why can’t you—”
“Because I’m scared,” he admitted, the words spilling out before he could stop them. His voice cracked under the weight of his confession, and he looked away, ashamed. “I’m scared of ruining everything. Of hurting Giselle. Of losing you if this doesn’t work. I don’t know how to let go of her, and I don’t know how to let go of you.”
His honesty only made the ache in your chest grow. You reached out, placing a trembling hand on his cheek, guiding his gaze back to you. “Jay, you can’t have it both ways,” you said softly, your voice heavy with both love and pain. “You have to choose. And if you can’t, then maybe...maybe I have to make the choice for you.”
“No,” Jay said quickly, his hand flying to cover yours. “Don’t. Don’t leave me, Y/N. Please.” The desperation in his tone made your heart twist, but you knew deep down that something had to give.
“I can’t keep holding on to someone who was never mine to begin with, Jay,” you whispered, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “You’re you, and I’m… me. Can’t you see? You’re talented, warm, kind, gentle—and I’m a mess. Giselle… she suits you. She’s beautiful, patient, everything I’m not. You two look perfect together.”
You paused, your breaths shaky as you tried to steady yourself, but the pain in your chest only grew heavier. “I’m so tired, Jay. I’m tired of the nights I lie awake, wishing I could be the one in your arms. I’m tired of being afraid of myself because I want so desperately to be the one you look at with that gentleness in your eyes. I want to be the one who makes you laugh, the girl who loves you with her whole heart.”
Your voice faltered, breaking into a strained whisper as tears streamed down your face. “But I can’t. I can’t be that girl, Jay. I’ll never be her.”
Your sobs softened into quiet sniffles, the silence between you thick and suffocating. You couldn’t bear to look at him, afraid of what you might see—pity, regret, or worse, nothing at all. All the words you’d kept locked inside were now laid bare, and yet, the ache in your chest only deepened, the weight of your unspoken love threatening to crush you.
Jay’s chest tightened with every word you spoke, each one laced with pain, longing, and a finality that made his heart feel like it was being crushed. He reached out for you instinctively, his hands trembling, but he stopped himself, letting them fall to his sides. He knew he had no right to comfort you—not when he was the source of your pain.
“Y/N…” he began, his voice hoarse and broken. “Don’t say that. Please, don’t say that about yourself.” His eyes glistened with unshed tears as he took a shaky step toward you, though the weight of your words kept him from getting too close. “You don’t see what I see, do you? You’re not a mess. You’re—” He swallowed hard, his voice cracking. “You’re everything, Y/N. Everything I didn’t even know I needed. And I hate myself for making you feel like you’re not enough because you are. You always were.”
Your lips trembled as you shook your head, stepping back. “Don’t do this, Jay. Don’t say these things when you know you can’t follow through. You’re with her, and I’m… I’m not a part of that world. I can’t keep pretending like there’s a place for me in your life when all I’m doing is hurting myself.”
He reached out again, his hand hovering near yours before pulling it back, defeated. “I don’t know what to do, Y/N,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m so lost. I thought I had everything figured out, but then you walked into my life, and now—now nothing makes sense. I don’t want to lose you, but I also don’t want to keep hurting you like this. I don’t know how to let go of you, Y/N. I don’t know how to stop wanting you.”
You bit your lip, forcing yourself to stay strong even as his words tore you apart. “You have to,” you said, your voice steady despite the tears streaming down your face. “For both of us. You have to let me go, Jay. Because I can’t keep living like this. I can’t keep loving someone who’s never going to be mine.”
The finality of your words hung heavy in the air, and Jay felt his knees go weak. He wanted to argue, to plead with you to stay, but deep down, he knew you were right. He had been selfish, holding onto you while refusing to make a choice. And now, it was too late.
“Okay,” he whispered, his voice cracking as tears rolled down his cheeks. “Okay, Y/N. If that’s what you need, I’ll—I’ll let you go. But just know that I…” He hesitated, the words caught in his throat. “I’m sorry. For everything. For not being brave enough to choose you. For hurting you. For loving you when I shouldn’t have.”
You nodded, your chest heaving as you tried to steady your breathing. “Goodbye, Jay,” you whispered, the words barely audible but heavy with meaning.
And this time, when you walked away, Jay didn’t follow. He stayed rooted to the spot, watching you disappear into the night, his heart shattered into pieces he wasn’t sure he could ever put back together.
Maybe in another life, maybe in another universe, he would have been the one to hold you close, his arms your safest place. He would have been the one to press soft kisses to your temple, nuzzling his nose against your neck as though the world outside didn’t exist. He would have been the one to wake beside you each morning, his fingers gently brushing through your hair, his gaze filled with the quiet adoration of someone who’d found their forever.
He would have carried you on his back when your legs gave out, laughing at your complaints but never letting go. He would have cooked your favorite meals, waiting for the sound of your keys turning in the door because coming home meant coming back to him. He would have been the one to stand at the end of the aisle, his heart racing as he watched you walk toward him in a gown that made you look like a dream.
He would have been the one you said “I do” to, your voice steady and full of promise. He would have been the one who vowed to hold you through the storms and the sunshine, in moments of joy and in those of despair. For better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health—he would have been the one to love and cherish you until your very last breath.
In another life, in another universe, he would have been the one. But here, in this tangled mess of reality, he could only dream of the love that could have been.
Maybe in another life, Jay thought, the universe would have been kinder to the both of you. In that life, there would be no Giselle, no tangled strings of guilt and confusion, no walls of "what ifs" and "too lates." In that life, he wouldn't have hesitated. He wouldn't have second-guessed every decision, every step closer to you.
He could imagine it so clearly, almost cruelly vivid in his mind. You, standing in the kitchen in the morning light, your laugh filling the air as he teased you about something silly. The way you’d rest your head on his shoulder during quiet moments, your presence a comfort he never knew he needed until it was gone.
He would have been the one to carry you when life got heavy, to wipe away your tears and kiss your worries away. He would have known, deep in his soul, that he didn’t just love you—he belonged with you.
But this wasn’t another life. This wasn’t another universe. And in this one, he had made his choices, and you had made yours. The weight of that reality pressed heavily on his chest, a bitter ache he knew he’d carry for a long time, maybe forever.
As he stood under the same stars that had once seemed to shine so brightly for him, Jay let the tears fall freely, his heart whispering a silent prayer to a world that didn’t exist.
Maybe in another life, you would have been his, and he would have been yours. But in this one, all he could do was love you from afar, a love that would remain untouched by time but buried deep within his heart.
ahhh thanks for reading up till here everyone! let me know if you liked it! this fic actually hit very close to home while i was writing because i subconsciously inserted my own feelings towards jay in this LOL😞
"You should try Park Me Up, " Jake suggested, his Australian accent stretching the words.
"fuck what up?" you asked, your voice unintentionally louder in confusion.
Jake stifled a laugh. "dude, Park Me Up. It's a guitar shop that sells vinyls, too. Heard the selection's pretty dope. Apparently, the owner's nephew curates it." He chuckled, rolling his eyes when he realized what you'd misheard. Danielle, sitting to your right, let out a quiet laugh at your expense.
pairing - guitar shop worker! jay x female reader
w.c - 22.4k
content: y/n is a reserved individual, who moves to seattle for university, where she meets a silver haired boy working in a guitar shop while looking for vinyls. ( mentions of members from other groups, or in enha)
warnings! jay is very very indecisive, mentions of cheating, kissing, heavy heavy angst, kissing, mutual pinning, slow burn. (lmk if i missed out anything...)
a/n: hello everyone ! i finally published my first full length fic after forever lol... It's christmas already and it should be a jolly fic but... im a sucker for angst... i hope you guys like it ! Happy holidays lovelies! Also thank you to my offline friend who proofread this for me, and thank you grammerly for correcting my grammers LOL.
You never expected yourself to fall for Jay. You really didn't. You never intended to be so completely enamored by the boy who worked at his uncle's guitar shop—the boy who always showed up in an oversized white shirt and gray sweats, hair falling messily over his forehead, yet somehow looking effortlessly perfect. The boy with silver hair that shimmered under the dim store lights as he strummed chords on a guitar he probably didn't plan to buy. But here you were, hopelessly in love with a boy who had a girlfriend.
Moving to Seattle had been a decision more practical than emotional, but it still hurt. You stood by the window of your tiny apartment, staring out at the city as it buzzed with energy, even on a quiet Wednesday night. The view was breathtaking—glittering skyscrapers against the dark sky, streets glowing with endless streams of headlights and neon signs. Yet, despite the beauty, there was an ache inside you. You missed home, the warmth of your family, and the familiarity of your old life.
Your parents hadn’t made the choice any easier. Both renowned architects, they had high hopes that you would follow in their footsteps. Seattle was where they had both studied, fallen in love, and started building their careers. To them, sending you here felt like a full-circle moment, a chance for you to experience what they had cherished so deeply. To you, it felt like being uprooted.
“You need this,” your mother had said, her voice softer than usual as she helped pack your bags. “A new city, new challenges—it’ll be good for you. Just promise me you’ll explore. Don’t hide away in your room with your vinyls all day.”
You’d reluctantly agreed, not wanting to disappoint her.
A few weeks had passed since school started, and to your surprise, things weren’t as bad as you’d feared. Your decision to major in architecture felt natural, like a familiar rhythm you’d always known. Growing up with two architects as parents meant you had a solid foundation, and the workload—while demanding—was manageable.
But school wasn’t the part that scared you. It was the loneliness you dreaded most. Your mom’s parting words echoed in your mind as you forced yourself to step out of your comfort zone, accepting an invitation from a friendly classmate named Beomgyu to grab lunch. That one small decision changed everything.
Beomgyu quickly became one of your closest friends, and through him, you met Danielle and Ning Ning, two of the most vibrant people you’d ever known. They, in turn, introduced you to their wider circle—Jake, Jungwon, and Sunoo. Jake and Jungwon were Twitch streamers, a detail you found both amusing and fascinating.
“Jake’s not even good at the games he streams,” Jungwon teased one afternoon as you all sat around a table at a cozy ice cream shop downtown. “He keeps dying and getting pity donations from girls who think he’s cute.”
Jake let out a dramatic whine, lips jutting into a pout as he folded his arms. “That’s not true! I’m good at some games.”
Danielle snorted, pointing her spoon at him. “You literally called Fall Guys a ‘competitive battle royale.’”
Jake turned to you for backup, his eyes wide and pleading. “You believe me, right?”
You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound bubbling out of you before you could stop it. Moments like these felt warm and grounding, like you were finally finding a place for yourself in this unfamiliar city
"Did you see? Daniel Caesar's new album just dropped," Jake whispered, leaning closer to you in class. His eyes flicked toward the front of the lecture hall, where the professor was mid-sentence.
"Never Enough, right? Yeah, I saw," you replied, keeping your voice low to avoid getting caught. "I think I'm gonna hit up a store to buy the vinyl. I need it for my collection."
"You should try Park Me Up," Jake suggested, his Australian accent stretching the words.
"fuck what up?" you asked, your voice unintentionally louder in confusion.
Jake stifled a laugh. "dude, Park Me Up. It’s a guitar shop that sells vinyls, too. Heard the selection’s pretty dope. Apparently, the owner’s nephew curates it." He chuckled, rolling his eyes when he realized what you'd misheard. Danielle, sitting to your right, let out a quiet laugh at your expense.
"Oh, right. Got it," you mumbled, quickly typing the shop's name into Google. It was only fifteen minutes from campus—definitely worth checking out.
Later that afternoon, curiosity got the better of you. With your classes done for the day and a spare hour on your hands, you decided to make the trip to Park Me Up. Jake's recommendation had piqued your interest, and you figured it wouldn't hurt to check out the shop.
The small bell above the door jingled softly as you pushed it open, stepping into the cozy, slightly dim space. The scent of polished wood and aged vinyl filled the air, and rows of guitars lined the walls, their polished surfaces gleaming under the warm light. In the corner, a shelf was dedicated to records, a modest but eclectic collection that immediately drew your attention.
You were flipping through the vinyls, scanning the neatly labeled dividers, when a voice startled you.
“Looking for something specific?”
You glanced up to find a boy standing behind the counter, his silver hair catching the light in a way that made it impossible not to stare for a second too long. He was wearing a slightly oversized white shirt over his grey sweats, the casual look somehow amplifying his presence rather than diminishing it. The silver haired boy was already looking at you curiously, albeit an amused smile on his face.
“Uh, yeah,” you managed, your voice almost catching. “I was looking for Daniel Caesar’s Never Enough. Heard you guys might have it.”
He smiled faintly, the kind of smile that felt effortlessly genuine. “Good choice. We just got a shipment in. Let me grab it for you.”
You watched as he moved to the back, his stride unhurried but purposeful. When he returned, he held the vinyl in his hands like it was something sacred, carefully placing it on the counter between you.
“Here you go,” he said, his voice soft. “This one’s already been pretty popular.”
“Thanks,” You hesitated before asking, “So, do you curate the collection here?”
He blinked in surprise before nodding. “Yeah, I do. How’d you know?”
“Word of mouth,” you said, shrugging lightly. “A friend recommended the shop. Said the vinyl selection’s great because of you.”
His smile widened slightly, and there was something in his expression that made your stomach flip. “Glad to hear it. I try to make it as diverse as possible. Let me know if there’s something you’re looking for, and I’ll see what I can do.”
You opened your mouth to say something, but the boy beat you to it. “What genre of music do you listen to?” he asked, his tone casual but curious.
You hesitated, feeling a little self-conscious. Some of your friends always teased you for having the music taste of a middle-aged woman. “Um, I’m not sure if you’d know them, but... Oasis? Red Jumpsuit Apparatus, The 1975—and, you know, the more basic ones like Frank Ocean, Tyler, Kendrick…” Your voice trailed off, and you missed the way the boy’s smile grew wider with every name you mentioned, his eyes lighting up with excitement.
“Oasis? No way. That’s my favorite band,” the silver-haired boy blurted, his enthusiasm catching you off guard. “Usually, there aren’t many people our age who listen to them. My friends always call me an old soul because of my taste in music. But finally—finally—I don’t have to be an old soul alone!”
He leaned back, grinning from ear to ear. “Honestly, I think I've met my match. I listen to almost every artist you just named. You might even be better at curating playlists than I am,” he chuckled, the sunlight streaming through the window catching on his silver hair and making his honey-tanned skin seem to glow.
Your cheeks flushed slightly at his enthusiasm, the way his eyes lit up as if he’d just stumbled upon some rare treasure. You hadn’t expected this reaction, let alone from someone who looked like they belonged on the cover of a magazine instead of behind the counter of a record shop.
“You're just saying that,” you said with a shy laugh, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I'm not that great at curating. I just... listen to what feels right, you know?”
The boy shook his head, his smile unwavering.“No, I mean it. Oasis is a bold choice, especially for someone who looks…” He trailed off, suddenly catching himself.
Your brow arched slightly. "Looks what?”
He cleared his throat, his confidence faltering for just a moment. “Looks like they'd be more into pop or something.”
You rolled your eyes, but there was no bite in your response.“Yeah, well, don't judge a book by its cover. Or a person by their playlist.”
His laugh was soft, the kind that made your chest tighten unexpectedly. “Fair enough.”
The conversation settled into a comfortable rhythm, the initial awkwardness melting away.
“Okay, I have to ask,” Jay said suddenly, leaning against the counter with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Favorite Oasis song?”
You hesitated, pretending to think it over even though you already knew the answer. “Don’t Look Back in Anger. Classic.”
He nodded approvingly, his grin widening. “Respect. Though, Live Forever might just take the top spot for me.”
You tilted your head, a playful challenge in your tone. “Strong choice. But I think Champagne Supernova could give it a run for its money.”
Jay’s laughter filled the shop, warm and unrestrained. “You’re good. I might just have to hire you as my personal music consultant.”
You were about to respond when the door chimed again, signaling another customer. Jay turned slightly to greet them, but his feet remained planted, standing in front of you with that wide, easy smile. To him, it felt like looking into a mirror—like seeing himself, just in the opposite gender.
You wanted to speak, to ask for his name, but the customer broke the moment, calling for his assistance.
“i've, um, got to go. See you around? ” he said softly, giving you one last glance. A dimple appeared on his left cheek as he smiled, the kind of smile that lingered, just like the glint of his silver hair catching the light. For a fleeting moment, it felt as though the world slowed down.
“See you,” you whispered to yourself, knowing he couldn’t hear you anymore. You carefully placed the vinyl back where you found it, a small smile tugging at your lips—because you knew you’d be coming back.
The soft click of the door echoed behind you, and the quiet hum of the city greeted you as you stepped onto the sidewalk. The night air was crisp, brushing against your cheeks, and for some reason, you couldn’t wipe the small smile off your face.
You couldn’t stop thinking about him. About his silver hair, the excitement in his voice when you mentioned Oasis, and the way he had lingered—just a little longer than he needed to—before walking away.
As you walked, your thoughts kept drifting back to the shop. To him. It was silly, really. You barely knew him. He was just a boy in a guitar shop. But something about him tugged at you in a way you couldn’t quite explain, as though a song you’d forgotten had started playing in the background of your life, soft and familiar.
Meanwhile, inside the shop, Jay was still standing behind the counter, his head tilted slightly as he watched you through the large front window. The orange glow from the streetlights traced the outline of your figure as you disappeared down the street, and for reasons he couldn’t quite articulate, his chest tightened.
It wasn’t often that someone caught his attention like that. Sure, plenty of customers passed through the shop, and Jay, ever the charmer, knew how to win people over with a smile or a bit of small talk. But this felt different. The way you spoke, the way you looked at him—like you really heard him, like you understood. It was rare. And it left a mark.
The sound of the other customer clearing their throat broke him from his trance. He turned back, hastily fixing his expression into something neutral, professional, but the remnants of his smile were still there.
“Sorry, what was that?” he asked, trying to focus.
The customer repeated their request, but even as Jay worked, his mind stayed far away, replaying your words, your quiet demeanor, the way your face flushed when you saw him smile at you. It was such a small thing, but it had stuck with him—how you’d looked so startled, yet soft and genuine all at once, like no one had smiled at you that way in a long time.
He wasn’t quite sure why it mattered. Or why it kept tugging at the corners of his thoughts, refusing to let go.
Jay’s hands moved on autopilot as he rang up the customer’s purchase, his mind somewhere else entirely. He thought about the way your voice had softened when you spoke about the bands you loved, how your fingers brushed the edge of the vinyl as though it were something precious. And the way you whispered—so quietly he wasn’t even sure he’d heard it—“see you.”
You’d meant it, hadn’t you? That you’d come back?
Jay blinked back into focus as the customer grabbed their bag and left, muttering a “thanks” on their way out. He let out a breath, leaning back against the counter, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck. This was ridiculous. It wasn't like he hadn't met interesting people before.
But you weren't like the others.
You didn't try to impress him, didn't try to force conversation. You were just... yourself. Unapologetically quiet, honest, and deeply sincere in that brief moment. It felt like a melody he couldn’t place but one he already knew by heart.
He ran a hand through his silver hair, glancing out the shop window to the darkened street. You were long gone now, but the image of you—standing there in the soft glow of the shop’s lights, lips quirking into that small, shy smile—lingered in his mind.
“Get it together, Jay,” he muttered to himself. But the truth was, he already knew he’d be watching for you. Waiting for that door to chime again.
And when it did, he wasn’t sure what would happen—he just knew he wanted to find out.
The soft jingle of the bell above the door announced your arrival. You stepped into the shop, your eyes darting instinctively toward the counter—only to find it empty.
He must not be working today, you thought, a tinge of disappointment settling in. Still, the familiar scent of old vinyl records mixed with the faint tang of guitar polish surrounded you, offering its usual comfort.
Then you heard it. Soft, deliberate strums of a guitar, playing the chords to “Beside You” by Keshi—one of your favorite songs. Curiosity tugged at you, and you ventured deeper into the store, following the sound.
The shop was quieter today. A few customers lounged in the listening area, sipping coffee or flipping through newspapers. As you rounded a shelf, your eyes landed on him.
The silver-haired boy sat perched on a wooden stool, a black-and-white guitar cradled in his lap—a Fender Stratocaster, you’d later learn, named Veronica.
You stood there, captivated. Every movement—the way his fingers glided along the strings, the way the melody hummed through the shop, the way his expression softened when he played—held you still. An unspoken feeling stirred inside you, unfamiliar and warm, as you watched him.
The soft strums of the guitar reverberated through the small shop, blending seamlessly with the faint crackling of a vinyl playing somewhere in the background. Your heart thudded softly against your chest as you watched him, completely lost in his own world—eyes low, brows furrowed in concentration, the slightest pout on his lips.
It wasn't fair. How could someone look so effortlessly perfect in such a simple moment? The silver strands of his hair fell over his forehead, catching the warm afternoon light filtering in through the shop’s windows. The oversized white shirt he wore draped lazily over his frame, the sleeves pushed up just enough to reveal his forearms as his fingers moved gracefully over the frets.
And the song—your song.
It wasn’t just the way he played it that captivated you, but the feeling in every note. It was as if he wasn't just strumming chords; he was speaking in a language that only the two of you understood.
You didn't want to interrupt. You didn't want to break the spell. So you stayed there, hovering silently between the shelves of vinyls, letting yourself get lost in the way he swayed slightly with the rhythm, the way his foot tapped softly against the floor.
Then, the song ended with a final, lingering note. The hum of the strings faded into silence, leaving the air thick and still. For a moment, he stayed there, letting his hands rest on the guitar strings, eyes still downcast.
And then he looked up.
The sudden shift in his gaze nearly made you flinch, your breath catching in your throat. His eyes—soft brown, filled with a quiet warmth—locked onto yours, and for a second, neither of you spoke. His expression flickered from surprise to something unreadable before that familiar smile crept onto his face.
“You came back.” His voice was soft, laced with both surprise and something else—something you couldn't quite place.
You nodded, a little breathless as you stepped forward. “I—I didn't mean to interrupt. You were playing Beside You. It's… it's one of my favorites.”
His smile widened just a touch, dimples peeking through. “Yeah? Mine too. Guess we really do have the same taste.”
He carefully set the guitar down on its stand—Veronica, you remembered—and turned toward you, leaning back against the counter. “What brings you in today? Another vinyl to add to the collection?”
You shrugged, trying to play it cool despite the nervous fluttering in your chest. “Something like that. I actually just—” you hesitated, unsure how to finish the sentence. “—wanted to see what was new.”
Jay raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You sure? Or did you come back to listen to me butcher more songs?”
You laughed softly, shaking your head. “I didn't know you could play the guitar, but You’re too good to butcher anything.”
His smile faltered just slightly, as if caught off guard by your words, but he recovered quickly, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, I've got a long way to go, but thanks. I’ve picked up guitar since i was a 5, it's quite normal if your uncle owns a guitar shop. "His voice was quieter now, a bit more vulnerable.
There was a beat of silence, but it didn’t feel awkward. It was comfortable, like the calm right before a storm, where something hung unsaid between the two of you.
“Want me to play something else?” he asked, suddenly breaking the stillness.
You blinked, startled. “For me?”
“Yeah, you're already here, so why not? Pick a song,” he chuckled, settling back down onto the stool with an easy smile.
You paused, considering. “What about… Oasis?‘Wonderwall’ ?”
His head shot up, eyes lighting up like a kid at Christmas. “You're seriously making my day right now.”
The shop seemed to fade away, the quiet hum of the world outside disappearing into the soft, unpolished notes of the guitar. It was just you, the boy with silver hair.
I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now.
Your breath hitched when his gaze met yours. It wasn’t just a fleeting glance this time. It lingered—his brown eyes holding yours with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. His lips curled into the faintest smile, as if he’d felt the weight of the words, too, as if the song were meant for this moment.
For you.
You gripped the edge of the shelf behind you, knuckles turning pale as you tried to steady yourself. The warmth flooding your chest, the flutter in your stomach—you’d never felt this before. Not like this. It wasn’t some grand moment in a romantic movie, but it felt just as significant. Like something you weren’t supposed to feel but couldn’t resist.
You wondered, then, if he felt it too.
The way his eyes softened every time he looked at you. The way he smiled like he was holding onto a secret you didn’t yet know. The way he played this song, one so simple yet so heavy, as if the lyrics were carving a space just for the two of you.
Your heart whispered things you weren’t ready to say out loud. Does he see me the way I see him? Does he feel this, too?
It felt like magic, the kind of moment that you’d replay in your head on sleepless nights, the kind of moment you’d tuck away carefully, afraid it might slip through your fingers.
The strumming grew softer as he reached the final verses, his fingers deftly strumming the last chords. But even as the sound faded into stillness, the look he gave you lingered, as though he, too, had felt something shift.
The silence between you was heavier now, filled with words neither of you dared to speak.
“ that was… really good,” you said softly, breaking the silence. Your voice came out quieter than you’d intended, almost trembling.
The boy’s smile widened, though his expression held something else—something deeper, more uncertain. He set the guitar down gently, leaning back slightly on the stool as his eyes stayed on you. “Thanks. I haven't played that one in a while.”
“Well, it didn't sound like it,” you replied, forcing a small laugh to break the tension that seemed to have wrapped itself around you both.
He tilted his head, his silver hair falling into his eyes before he brushed it away. “You really love this song, huh?”
You nodded, your fingers nervously playing with the hem of your sleeve. “Yeah. It's… special. Makes you feel things, you know?”
His gaze softened again, and for a moment, you thought he was going to say something—something important, something you weren't sure you were ready to hear. But instead, he smiled softly, a little wistfully.
“Yeah. I get that.”
And just like that, the moment passed, leaving you teetering on the edge of something unknown.
You both fell into a quiet that wasn't uncomfortable, but it wasn’t easy either. It was the kind of quiet where feelings settled heavy in the air, unspoken but undeniable. You wondered if he could hear how fast your heart was beating or if he could see the questions swirling in your mind.
“I just realized I don't even know your name. Mind gracing my ears with it?” the boy teased, his dimple deepening as he broke into a warm laugh.
He only has a dimple on the left side of his cheek, you thought to yourself, unable to ignore how effortlessly charming it made him look.
Your face flushed at his words, and you laughed softly, trying to play it cool. “It's Y/N.”
“Y/N,” he repeated, as if testing how it sounded. His grin widened. “Interesting name. I'm just plain old Jay. Or—if you're feeling formal—you can call me Jongseong. Most people just stick with Jay, though.”
He leaned casually against one of the shelves that displayed vinyls, crossing his arms as he watched you, the playful glint in his eyes never fading.
“Jay suits you,” you said quietly, the name lingering on your tongue like it belonged there. You glanced down at the vinyls displayed in front of you, fingers brushing absentmindedly over the edges, though your attention was nowhere near the records. It was on him—the way his smile tugged slightly higher on one side, the way his silver hair framed his face like it was meant to catch the light perfectly.
“Does it?” Jay mused, his tone teasing but gentle. “I always thought it was kind of boring. Plain. But I guess I’ll take your word for it.”
You laughed softly, shaking your head. “It’s not plain. It's…” You hesitated, meeting his gaze. “It's fitting.”
He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Fitting, huh? What’s that supposed to mean?”
You bit your lip, feeling the heat creeping up your face again. Why did he have to look at you like that—like you were the only person in the room? “I just mean… you don’t seem like a ‘Jongseong.’ You seem like a ‘Jay.’ Simple. Warm.”
Your voice trailed off as you realized what you’d said, your heart pounding in your chest. Warm? Did you really just say that out loud?
Jay’s dimple appeared again as he smiled, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. “Warm, huh?” He shifted his weight, leaning more comfortably against the shelf, and for a split second, it looked like he was trying to hide how flustered he was. “You’ve got a way with words, y/n.”
You looked away quickly, suddenly fascinated with the cover of a vinyl on the shelf. “I’m just being honest,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.
For a moment, the two of you fell into a comfortable silence, the tension settling like a quiet hum in the air between you. It wasn’t heavy, but it wasn’t light either—it was something else. Something unspoken.
Jay tilted his head, breaking the silence first. “So, y/n… what’s your story? You seem like someone who has one.”
You blinked, caught off guard by the question. “My story?”
“Yeah,” he said with a small shrug, his tone softer now. “Everyone’s got one. You don’t seem like the kind of person who just ends up here by accident.”
You exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of his question. “I… moved here for school,” you said, choosing your words carefully. “Architecture. My parents are both in the field, so it kind of feels like… I don’t know, like a path I’m supposed to follow.”
Jay’s expression softened, his head nodding slightly as if he understood more than you were saying. “That’s a lot to carry, huh?”
You looked up at him, startled by how easily he’d seen through you. “Yeah,” you admitted, your voice quiet. “Sometimes.”
There was no pity in his gaze, only understanding—like he’d felt the weight of expectation before too. “Well,” he said after a moment, his tone lighter, “for what it’s worth, it sounds like you’re doing fine. You’ve got good taste in music, so you can’t be that lost.”
You laughed at his attempt to lighten the mood, grateful for the small reprieve. “That’s your bar for success? Good taste in music?”
“Absolutely,” Jay replied, grinning. “It says a lot about a person.”
“And what does my music taste say about me?” you challenged, tilting your head slightly.
Jay’s smile faltered for just a moment, something unreadable flashing in his eyes before he answered. “It says you’ve got depth. You feel things. You appreciate what’s real.”
His words struck something deep in you, leaving you momentarily speechless. How could someone you’d barely met see you so clearly?
Jay cleared his throat, as if realizing he’d said too much. “Anyway,” he said, pushing himself off the shelf, his voice returning to its usual playful tone, “you’ll have to come back so I can keep quizzing you on music. I can’t let you win the ‘good taste’ trophy just yet.”
You smiled, your heart fluttering. “I’ll think about it.”
“You better,” he teased, his dimple reappearing. “Veronica and I will be waiting.”
“Veronica?”
He gestured toward the guitar leaning against the stool where he’d been playing earlier. “She’s temperamental, but she’s good to me.”
You laughed, shaking your head. “You named your guitar?”
“Of course I did,” Jay said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “She deserves it.”
You smiled as you watched him, your heart inexplicably light despite the unfamiliar feelings tugging at you. “Alright, Jay. I’ll be back to check in on you… and Veronica.”
“Looking forward to it,” he replied, his voice softening.
As you walked out of the shop, the bell chiming softly above you, you couldn’t help but glance back through the window. Jay was still standing there, watching you leave, a small smile resting on face.
You hadn’t gotten far when a familiar voice called out to you. It wasn’t hard to recognize—Jay.
Turning back in confusion, you spotted him jogging toward you, something tucked under his arm. As he got closer, you realized what it was: the vinyl you’d meant to buy on your first visit. Never Enough was nestled carefully against his chest, the moonlight catching his silver hair and making it glow like a halo.
Stopping in front of you, slightly out of breath, Jay held up the record and offered it to you.
“This is… for you,” he said, panting softly as he caught his breath. “Consider it a ‘nice to meet you’ gift.”
Your mouth fell open in shock, completely caught off guard. You stared at the vinyl, knowing you hadn’t paid for it. “I can’t,” you stammered, shaking your head and waving your hands frantically. “It’s too expensive, and… won’t your uncle beat you up for this?”
Even as you protested, the thought of his kindness sent a quiet warmth spreading through you.
That’s when it struck you how tall Jay really was. Looking straight ahead, you only met his shoulder. He leaned down, a teasing grin tugging at his lips as he whispered, “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
As quickly as he leaned in, he straightened back up, his playful expression unwavering. “Besides,” he exclaimed louder, puffing his chest out for effect, “I’m his nephew. What’s he gonna do? Fire his best employee and the guy with the best taste in the shop?”
He grinned, brushing a few stray strands of silver hair away from his face, the confidence in his voice making you laugh despite yourself.
You stared at him, stunned and unable to form a coherent response. The vinyl now resting in his hands, being held out to you like some kind of offering. It didn’t help that the teasing grin on his face had you feeling lightheaded, your heart hammering wildly in your chest.
“I really can’t take this,” you said again, though your voice wavered, betraying how much you wanted to accept it. “It’s too much.”
Jay tilted his head, the grin softening into something gentler, more sincere. “Y/n, it’s just a record,” he said quietly, though there was something in the way he said your name that made your heart stutter. “It’s not about what it costs. I just… I thought you’d like it.”
You met his gaze then, and the sincerity you found there nearly knocked the air out of your lungs. He meant it. There was no teasing now, no charm for the sake of charm. Just Jay—simple, warm, and standing in front of you with an earnestness that made your walls crumble just a little more.
Your lips parted, searching for something—anything—to say, but all you managed was, “Thank you.” The words were small, almost insignificant compared to the way your chest felt full and heavy all at once. “I really mean it.”
Jay’s grin returned, softer this time, and he placed the vinyl carefully in your hands. “Good,” he said, his voice quiet as if this moment was fragile. “Then it’s settled.”
You stared down at the vinyl, tracing the edge of it with your thumb as you tried to process the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. He didn’t have to do this for you. He barely even knew you. And yet, here he was, going out of his way to make sure you left with a smile.
“You’re really something, Jay,” you muttered, shaking your head in disbelief, though a smile tugged at the corners of your lips.
“And you’re really stubborn,” he shot back playfully, his dimple making another appearance as he chuckled. “But I guess we balance each other out.”
You rolled your eyes, clutching the vinyl closer to your chest as you tried to ignore the fluttering in your stomach. “You’re lucky you’re funny.”
“Lucky, huh?” he teased, tilting his head to the side as he looked at you. “I’ll take it.”
There was a brief pause, a moment suspended in time where neither of you spoke. The afternoon sun cast long shadows on the pavement, the light softening everything around you. For a second, you let yourself take in the sight of him—the way his silver hair fell just slightly over his eyes, the way his smile lingered even when he wasn’t speaking.
The silence between you wasn’t awkward, though it brimmed with something new. Something unsaid. You clutched the vinyl close to your chest, a smile tugging at your lips as you watched Jay recover his usual composure.
“Well,” you said finally, breaking the silence as you tried to steady your heartbeat. “I should get going before I take up your whole day.”
Jay smirked, his hands sliding back into the pockets of his grey sweats. “You say that like it’d be a bad thing.”
“Well,” he said after a beat, copying your words,“You better come back soon, okay? Veronica and I have more songs to play for you.”
You laughed, the sound light and genuine. “You really can’t go two minutes without mentioning Veronica, huh?”
“She’s a big part of my life,” Jay replied with mock seriousness, though the teasing sparkle in his eyes gave him away. “But don’t worry—I’ve got room for other important things too.”
Your heart stumbled over itself at his words, and you quickly looked away, pretending to be interested in the vinyl again. “I’ll come back,” you promised, your voice soft. “I’m starting to think this place might be my new favorite spot.”
Jay’s smile widened, a dimple peeking through on his left cheek. “Good. I’ll hold you to that.”
As he stepped back toward the shop, you watched him go, his silver hair catching the light one last time before he disappeared through the door. You stood there for a moment longer, clutching the record against your chest as a smile broke across your face.
You hadn’t expected to meet someone like him. Someone who made you feel seen without even trying. Someone who handed you a vinyl you’d wanted as though it were the easiest thing in the world.
Back inside the shop, Jay stood by the window, watching you disappear down the street with the vinyl tucked securely in your arms. His smile lingered, but there was a new weight settling in his chest—something unfamiliar, something he couldn’t quite name.
“She’s cool,” he murmured to himself, running a hand through his hair.
And as much as he tried to shake it, the image of your smile stayed with him, refusing to leave.
You found yourself visiting the record shop more often, stopping by every few days after classes, just to say hi to Jay. It always ended with you staying until the store closed, lost in conversation with him.
He greeted you with a warm smile every time, like he was anticipating your arrival. Time flew by when you were having fun. You’d pop in during the afternoon and leave only when the crickets began singing. It became a routine so familiar that even some customers started mistaking you for an employee.
Talking to Jay was easy. He seemed to understand how you felt, sharing his own experiences that mirrored yours. The more you talked, the more Jay couldn’t help but notice the way your eyes would light up when you found that you shared the same thoughts or tastes. It was like two puzzle pieces fitting perfectly together. Jay was a mirror image of you—until the conversation turned to ice cream.
“Mint chocolate tastes like toothpaste,” Jay deadpanned, making you laugh.
“Does not. That’s like saying matcha tastes like grass,” you shot back, rolling your eyes playfully.
“No, it doesn’t! I’d rather eat grass than have toothpaste for dessert,” he replied, his tone teasing, a grin tugging at his lips.
Your jaw dropped in exaggerated disbelief as you crossed your arms over your chest. “Oh, so now you’re a grass-eating expert? Should I grab you a handful from outside?”
Jay let out a laugh, the sound full and genuine, echoing through the quiet shop. “Hey, don’t twist my words! All I’m saying is, grass might be the superior option here.”
“You’re impossible.” You shook your head, though you couldn’t stop the grin tugging at your lips. It was hard to stay fake-mad at him when he looked so effortlessly charming, his silver hair falling into his eyes as he leaned back casually against the counter.
“Impossible but right,” he shot back, that dimple on his left cheek peeking out as he smirked at you. “You’re really defending mint chocolate like your life depends on it, huh?”
“Because it’s amazing and you have no taste,” you retorted, pretending to look insulted. “I feel bad for you. You’ll never know true joy.”
Jay clutched at his heart dramatically, wincing as if you’d just stabbed him. “That hurt, y/n. Truly. I think I need Veronica to comfort me now.”
You couldn’t hold back a laugh as you watched him make his way to the stool where his guitar sat. He grabbed her gently—like she was something fragile—before slinging her across his lap. “Fine, go cry to your guitar,” you teased. “She probably agrees with me anyway.”
“Oh, she definitely doesn’t,” Jay argued, already strumming a playful tune. “Veronica has class.”
You rolled your eyes, but your chest felt light, warmth spreading through you. Moments like these—full of laughter, teasing, and easy conversation—made you forget about everything else. Your classes, your homesickness, the weight of your parents’ expectations… none of it mattered when you were here, talking to Jay. It scared you how much you looked forward to these moments.
Unbeknownst to you, Jay felt the same way. The first few times you visited, he thought it was just a coincidence—that you were probably there for the records. But now… now, he knew better. Every time the bell above the door chimed, his head would snap up, hoping it was you.
You had become his favorite part of the day.
As he played soft, absent-minded chords on Veronica, his eyes flickered toward you. You were leaning against the counter, flipping through a box of vinyls, your expression relaxed and content. For a moment, Jay just watched you, his fingers faltering slightly on the strings.
“Hey, y/n,” he called out, drawing your attention.
You looked up, curious. “Yeah?”
He hesitated for a second, the words on the tip of his tongue. Something about how much he appreciated you coming here, how he felt like the days were brighter when you were around. But instead, he defaulted to teasing, a grin tugging at his lips.
“Promise me something.”
“What?” you asked, raising a brow.
“When I’m right about mint chocolate being trash, you’ll admit it publicly. Maybe we’ll record it and everything. Sound fair?”
You groaned, tossing your head back. “You’re impossible. Truly.”
He chuckled softly, the sound mixing with the hum of his guitar. “But I’m right.”
And for a while, you both sat in that moment—filled with music, banter, and the quiet comfort of knowing you weren’t alone.
Neither of you dared to admit it, but this routine you’d fallen into? It felt dangerously close to something more. But you couldnt shake that uneasy feeling when you looked at jay. He seemed like he was conflicted between telling you something.
As you perched on the familiar stool, your gaze drifted to Jay, who stood at the counter wrapping up a vinyl for a customer. His small, focused smile tugged at something deep inside you. The soft melody of Mac Ayres' Easy played in the background, and you found yourself humming along, lost in the rhythm.
You were so engrossed in the music and your thoughts that you didn’t notice Jay walking toward you until he was standing right in front of you. Startled, you jumped, nearly toppling off the stool.
Jay’s reflexes were quick. His hand shot out to grab your arm, the other steadying you by your waist. “Careful there. Someone must be deep in their feels, huh?” he teased with a grin, his laugh soft and warm.
The contact sent a jolt through you, like a spark lighting your nerves. His touch was firm but gentle, his proximity overwhelming. The scent of his cologne—a mix of cedar and wood—wrapped around you, intoxicating and grounding all at once. Your face burned as you tilted your head to meet his gaze.
“Yeah, it’s hard not to when the curator has such good taste,” you whispered, your voice quiet in the closeness between you. You felt yourself soften under his touch, curious to see how he’d respond.
Jay’s heart stuttered as he looked down at you. Your words carried more weight than they seemed, and something about the way you said them made his chest tighten. He cleared his throat, the heat rising to his cheeks as he tried to keep his composure. His hands lingered a fraction longer than necessary before he let go, his reluctance almost palpable.
“Well,” he murmured, his voice low, “you’re right, considering you picked this one with me.” His eyes held yours, glinting with something unspoken—something you dared to hope might be fondness.
You felt your heart flutter at his words, the shared memory softening the ache you’d tried so hard to bury. For a moment, it was just you and Jay, suspended in the quiet hum of the record shop, with the melody weaving around you like a thread tying you together.
“I know how to play this on the guitar. Wanna listen?” Jay asked, already moving toward Veronica without waiting for your reply.
You nodded, your eyes following his every movement. The way his forearm flexed as he picked up the guitar and adjusted it in his lap, his fingers effortlessly finding the chords—it was mesmerizing. The first familiar notes of Easy filled the shop, his playing smooth and precise, as if the guitar had been made just for him.
Halfway through the song, you couldn’t hold back your curiosity any longer. “Why haven’t I seen anyone else play this guitar?” you asked, breaking the gentle spell of the melody. “I mean, I know the rest of the guitars are free for trial and use, but no one ever touches Veronica.”
Jay chuckled softly, his fingers continuing to dance over the strings. The sound was warm and unhurried, perfectly complementing his low, quiet response. “Let’s just say I don’t like other people touching what’s mine.”
The possessiveness in his tone caught you off guard, sending a shiver down your spine. His words hung in the air, deliberate and weighted with something unspoken. When he tilted his head to look at you, his dark eyes lingering, you couldn’t help but wonder—did he mean the guitar, or was there more to his statement?
Jay's words hung in the air, the weight of them sending a spark of electricity through you. You blinked, momentarily stunned, unsure how to respond. His fingers never faltered on the strings, the melody of the song weaving around the quiet tension that had settled between you.
"Yours?" you repeated, your voice soft but questioning.
Jay smirked faintly, his eyes still on you, an unreadable emotion swirling in their depths. "Veronica," he clarified, though the slight upturn of his lips hinted that he knew exactly what his words had done. "She’s special to me. I guess I’m a little protective."
You nodded slowly, trying to ignore the way your heart raced in your chest. "I get it," you murmured. "She’s beautiful. Sounds even better when you play her."
Jay’s smirk softened into a genuine smile, his fingers continuing to strum as he looked back down at the guitar. "Thanks. But I think she just likes the company," he said, his tone light, though there was something unspoken beneath his words.
The melody shifted, and he began playing something softer, more intimate. You watched him, mesmerized by the way his hands moved effortlessly across the strings, the music flowing from him like a second language.
"You know," he began, his voice low, "there’s something about playing for someone who actually listens. Makes it... feel different." He glanced up at you, his gaze steady and vulnerable. "You always listen."
Your breath hitched, and you felt your cheeks heat up. "Of course I listen," you replied quietly. "You’re... talented. And music—it says a lot about a person. About what they feel, even when they don’t say it."
Jay’s fingers stilled for a moment, and he looked at you as if seeing you in a new light. "That’s true," he said softly. "Music has a way of saying things words can’t."
For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence filled only by the faint hum of the shop’s ambiance and the distant buzz of conversation. Jay’s gaze lingered on you, as if he were trying to decipher a melody only he could hear.
Then, with a soft chuckle, he resumed playing. "Guess I’ll have to keep playing for you, then," he said, his tone playful but his eyes betraying a hint of something deeper.
You smiled, your heart swelling despite yourself. "Guess you will," you whispered, wondering if Jay realized just how much his music—and his presence—meant to you.
That day, you and Jay exchanged numbers, texting each other occasionally to share songs from different artists. Things were going surprisingly well—so well that it stirred an uneasy feeling in your chest. How is this going so smoothly?
There was never a shortage of topics to talk about with Jay. One evening, you were in the shop again. Jay sat on the stool, absentmindedly strumming chords on Veronica, while you animatedly recounted your two-day camping trip to snag Bailey Zimmerman’s Religiously record.
Jay listened attentively, his warm eyes fixed on you, and that damn smile—the one that made your heart race every single time—resting on his face.
“You should come see my record collection sometime,” you said, your words bubbling with excitement. “It’ll blow your mind. I’ll even let you borrow some if you’re nice enough.”
Jay chuckled softly, his voice dropping slightly. “Yeah? Haven’t I been nice enough to you already?”
The air shifted. His words carried more weight than his playful tone suggested.
“Yeah, you’re really nice to me,” you mumbled, suddenly feeling self-conscious as you looked down at your shoes, your cheeks growing warm.
Jay leaned forward slightly, his voice softer now. “You know what? I’d love to—”
The chime of the shop’s door interrupted him. Startled, you turned to see who it was, only to meet the gaze of a striking blonde woman standing in the doorway.
“Seongie, are you done packing up?” she called cheerfully as she stepped inside.
She wore a denim dress, her blonde hair cascading down her back, paired with knee-high boots. There was an undeniable air of elegance about her—a confidence and beauty that made your stomach churn.
Seongie? The name echoed in your head. You’d never heard anyone call him that. Who is she?
You glanced back at Jay, your eyes wide with confusion. But he was already looking at her, his face lighting up with an expression you’d never seen before—soft, adoring, and unreserved.
“Hey, pretty,” Jay greeted, setting Veronica down and standing up to embrace her.
Your heart dropped into your stomach as you watched them. The warmth of the shop suddenly felt suffocating.
When they finally pulled apart, Jay turned to you, though his gaze never really left her. “Y/N, meet my girlfriend, Giselle. Giselle, this is Y/N.”
Girlfriend? The word hit you like a punch to the chest. Your mind spiraled, replaying every interaction with him, every shared moment. Of course, he had a girlfriend. How could someone like him not have a girlfriend?
“Hi, Y/N. Nice to meet you,” Giselle said politely, though her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. She studied you, her gaze curious, as if trying to figure out your connection to Jay.
You forced a smile, willing your voice to sound steady. “Hi. Nice to meet you, too.” But the strain in your tone betrayed you, and you cringed inwardly at how obvious it sounded.
Giselle’s attention shifted back to Jay, who began explaining how the two of you met. Halfway through his story, you blurted out, “I should go. It was really nice to meet you, Giselle. I can see why Jay would fall for you.”
You smiled, but the sadness in your eyes was unmistakable. If Giselle noticed, she didn’t show it, happily bidding you goodbye as she rested her head on Jay’s shoulder.
But Jay noticed. He saw the way your usual spark had dimmed, the way your gaze flickered with hurt when it shifted from him to Giselle. A pang of guilt tugged at his chest, but he quickly pushed it aside, chalking it up to excitement at seeing his girlfriend.
“Y/N—wait,” Jay called out as he watched you gather your things, already halfway to the door.
“Bye, Jay,” you whispered, your voice soft but resolute.
Jay frowned, the ache in his chest growing as he watched you leave. There was no see you tomorrow or see you again soon—just bye.
He exhaled deeply, his chest tightening as he stared at the closed door, your figure growing smaller in the distance.
The shop felt colder after you left, the faint jingle of the door chime lingering in the air. Jay’s eyes stayed fixed on the spot where you’d stood moments before, his jaw tightening slightly. He barely registered Giselle’s hand sliding into his, her cheerful voice breaking through the sudden heaviness in his chest.
“Who is she?” Giselle asked, her tone light, but the underlying curiosity was unmistakable.
Jay blinked, forcing himself to refocus. “She’s a regular,” he said casually, rubbing the back of his neck. “She’s really into music, so we hit it off talking about records.”
Giselle raised an eyebrow, her perfectly manicured nails tapping against the counter. “You seem close,” she said, her words measured. “She looked… comfortable here.”
Jay hesitated, sensing where this was headed. “She’s just a friend,” he said quickly, though the words felt strangely hollow as they left his mouth.
Giselle didn’t reply immediately, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly as if she were trying to read between the lines. “Hmm. A friend, huh?” She let the word hang in the air before shrugging, a smile spreading across her lips. “Well, as long as that’s all she is.”
But Jay felt the weight of her gaze, even as she moved to pick up a vinyl from the shelf. For a moment, he considered telling her more—explaining the connection you two had, how effortless it felt—but something stopped him. Maybe it was the way Giselle leaned into him, her confidence unwavering, or maybe it was the faint trace of guilt bubbling in his chest.
As they left the shop together, Giselle chatting animatedly about her plans for the evening, Jay found his thoughts drifting back to you. He replayed the look on your face when he introduced Giselle—the flicker of pain you tried so hard to mask. It had been subtle, but it was there, and it gnawed at him.
You, on the other hand, were trying to pull yourself together as you walked briskly down the dimly lit street. The ache in your chest was sharp, but you scolded yourself for feeling it. How could you have let yourself get so carried away?
Of course, Jay had a girlfriend—someone stunning, confident, and poised, someone who seemed perfect for him. What had you been thinking? That you, with your hesitant smiles and awkward jokes, could be someone special to him?
Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and for a moment, you thought it might be Jay. But it wasn’t—it was a message from Sunghoon, your classmate about an upcoming project. Letting out a shaky breath, you tucked your phone away and kept walking, refusing to let yourself look back toward the shop.
Later that night, Jay sat on the edge of his bed, his phone in his hand. Giselle had fallen asleep beside him, her even breathing filling the quiet room. He stared at the screen, debating whether to text you.
A part of him knew he shouldn’t. He had no reason to—no justification for reaching out beyond the nagging feeling in his chest that he couldn’t shake. But as his thumb hovered over your name in his contacts, he stopped himself.
Instead, he locked his phone and leaned back, staring up at the ceiling. Giselle shifted slightly beside him, murmuring something in her sleep, and he turned his head to look at her. She was beautiful, kind, and everything he thought he wanted.
So why couldn’t he stop thinking about the way your voice had trembled when you said goodbye?
And why, when he closed his eyes, was it your face that lingered in his mind?
It had been a month since you stopped visiting Jay at the record shop. Neither of you had reached out—no texts, no calls, no accidental run-ins. On the surface, everything seemed normal. You fell back into your routine: hanging out with your friends, spinning the same familiar vinyl records, letting music fill the void. But deep down, you knew it wasn’t the same.
How could it be, when your thoughts kept drifting back to him? The silver-haired boy with warm, expressive eyes. The boy whose dimple only appeared on his left cheek when he smiled. The boy with that small, barely noticeable mole between his brows, leaning slightly to the left.
You couldn't forget him, no matter how hard you tried.
Many nights, your thumb hovered over his contact, debating whether to message him. Maybe you could send a song—something by Mac Miller, perhaps—and pretend it didn’t mean anything. But each time, you stopped yourself.
He had Giselle. He was happy with her. And who were you to ruin that?
Sighing, you locked your phone and let it fall onto your bed, as the second verse of Daniel Caesar’s Valentina played softly in the background. The lyrics seemed to mock your longing, your hesitation, your inability to move on.
Across town, Jay was struggling with his own thoughts.
Every shift at the shop felt emptier without you. Every time the door chimed, his head snapped up, hoping—praying—to see the girl with the mole on her neck, the one that matched his birthmark, just on the opposite side.
You.
The girl who had the same music taste as him. The girl who loved mint chocolate despite his protests.
Jay knew it was wrong—so wrong—to be thinking of you while Giselle stood by his side. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop.
He remembered the way your eyes lit up when he handed you that vinyl, the soft smile you gave him as you watched him play the guitar. Those moments played on a loop in his mind, haunting him with what could’ve been.
His shoulders slumped every time the door opened, only to reveal someone else. You were nowhere to be found. And the shop—once his sanctuary—felt hollow without you there.
It was strange, this emptiness that had taken root in his chest. You weren’t just a customer or a casual friend. You had seen him. The real him. Not the charming, silver-haired boy everyone else knew, but the boy who could talk for hours about Oasis, who played guitar on quiet afternoons, who laughed at stupid arguments about ice cream flavors.
You had understood him in a way that no one else did—not even Giselle.
And now, you were gone.
Days turned into weeks, and Jay started to believe he’d never see you again. Maybe you hated him. Maybe you were angry that he hadn’t told you about Giselle sooner.
Or maybe he had imagined the connection altogether.
But the memory of the sadness in your eyes that day—your voice strained when you said goodbye—stuck with him. It made him wonder. Did you like me?
The thought filled him with equal parts hope and guilt.
Jay sighed, dragging a hand through his silver hair as he stared out the shop window. The world outside seemed as distant as the one he shared with you, the one that had slipped away before he even realized how much it mattered.
He wanted to see you again.
But did you feel the same?
The air in the record shop felt heavier these days. Jay had tried to distract himself, pouring his energy into curating the shelves, perfecting his playlists, and helping customers find hidden gems. But none of it filled the quiet void you’d left behind.
One evening, as the shop neared closing, Jay sat on the wooden stool where he used to play Veronica for you. He strummed absentmindedly, his fingers faltering on the chords. “Beside You” by Keshi came to mind, and he played the opening notes, but the melody felt hollow without you there to listen.
“Why does it feel like I lost something I never even had?” he muttered to himself, letting his hands fall into his lap.
You thought you’d have to get over Jay in your own time, quietly and painfully. But apparently, your friends had other plans.
“Y/N, we’re going to Park Me Up,” Jake announced after class, his voice brimming with excitement as you zipped up your bag.
You froze for a moment, trying to think of an excuse. “Oh, I, uh… I need to go somewhere. To buy cupcakes,” you blurted out, wincing at how unconvincing it sounded even to you.
Jake gave you a deadpan look before his lips curved into a playful pout, his puppy-dog eyes locking onto yours.
“Aw, come on, Y/N! Ning Ning needs our help picking out a gift for Beomgyu. His bandmates decided on a guitar for his birthday, and she’s clueless. It’ll be fun! Don’t be a party pooper,” he said, clasping your hand for dramatic effect.
Before you could protest further, Ning Ning and Sunoo appeared out of nowhere, already hyped about the plan. They didn’t even give you a chance to escape—Jake grabbed one arm, Sunoo grabbed the other, and Ning Ning cheerfully led the way.
“Guys, I really don’t think I should—”
“Too late, Y/N!” Ning Ning sang, ignoring your protests.
You sighed in defeat, letting them drag you toward the destination. Park Me Up wasn’t just any guitar shop—it was Jay’s guitar shop.
The thought sent a wave of dread through you.
The shop was just as you remembered it: cozy, filled with the scent of polished wood and vinyl records. The familiar bell jingled as the four of you stepped inside.
You scanned the counter immediately, your heart pounding, but Jay wasn’t there. Instead, his uncle, Peter, stood behind the register, greeting your group with a warm smile.
“Welcome in, folks! Let me know if you need any help. Oh, hey, Y/N, haven’t seen you around lately. Jay’s been chewing my ear off asking if you’ve stopped by. Pretty sure his neck must be sore from how much he cranes it looking for you,” Peter teased.
Jay? He’s been looking for me? Why? A flush crept up your cheeks, your heart racing even faster at the thought of Jay being nearby.
Your friends glanced at you in confusion as you hovered awkwardly near the entrance, trying to stay out of sight.
“Jay?” Danielle tilted her head curiously, while Sunoo snickered.
“Jay’s my nephew,” Peter explained, leaning casually against the counter. “He and Y/N here hit it off pretty well. She was here so often, I was even considering paying her for helping out around the shop.”
His warm eyes sparkled with amusement, so reminiscent of Jay’s, but his words left you flustered.
Jake’s brows shot up as he smirked at you, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Ooh, hit it off pretty well, huh?”
“It’s—it’s not like that,” you stammered, voice dropping to a whisper. “Jay has a girlfriend. We just had a lot in common, that’s all.” The word girlfriend cut like a knife, the ache in your chest returning.
Your friends didn’t press further, shrugging it off as they scattered toward the guitar section. But Jake lingered, his brow furrowing as he noticed you rooted in place. Without hesitation, he grabbed your hand, tugging lightly.
“Y/N, come on!” Jake urged. “You’re supposed to be helping!”
Just then, the sound of shuffling from the storage room caught everyone’s attention. A moment later, Jay stumbled out, brushing dust from his silver hair.
“Uncle, did you just mention Y/N? Is she here? I swear i heard her voice,” he asked, his voice quick and eager as his eyes darted around the shop—until they landed on you.
The world seemed to slow as your eyes met his, and your heart leapt into your throat. How was it possible for him to look even better, with the roots of his hair starting to grow out, giving him an effortless charm? You swallowed hard, almost breaking eye contact, afraid Jay might see through the carefully constructed facade you’d built to convince everyone—yourself included—that you were fine. Just like he always did.
His gaze shifted downward to where Jake’s hand still held yours, and you swore you saw something flicker in his expression. His brows furrowed slightly, but was it disappointment? Anger? Defeat? You couldn’t tell, but the uncertainty sent a shiver down your spine.
“Hi! You must be Jay. I’m Y/N’s boyfriend, Jake,” Jake said smoothly, his voice cutting through the silence, his blatant lie delivered with practiced ease. He was testing a theory, watching Jay’s reaction like a scientist observing an experiment.
Jay’s brow furrowed deeply, the tight-lipped smile he’d worn vanishing in an instant. In its place was a frown, his expression growing colder and more guarded by the second. His gaze shifted from you, but not before you noticed the way his jaw clenched and his shoulders tensed. Was he... jealous? Did this really affect him? The questions raced through your mind as you struggled to process the shift in his demeanor.
Your jaw dropped in shock as you turned to Jake, practically yanking your hand out of his grasp. “He’s not my boyfriend!” you exclaimed, frantically waving your hands in front of your chest as if to dispel the misunderstanding. “I don’t have a boyfriend. He’s just joking! Don’t take it seriously...” Your voice trailed off into an awkward blabber, cheeks flushed as you tried to explain yourself to Jay.
Jake stood to the side, grinning knowingly as he watched the scene unfold. His eyes flicked to Jay, and his suspicions were confirmed when he saw the subtle change in Jay’s posture. The moment you clarified that Jake was joking, Jay’s shoulders eased, and the tension in his jaw loosened, though his guarded expression lingered.
Jake’s grin widened. “Just wanted to see something,” he muttered under his breath, barely loud enough for you to hear, as he stuffed his hands into his pockets.
“Not funny, man,” Jay said, his tone attempting lightness but still laced with a hint of irritation. He glanced briefly at Jake before turning his gaze back to you, his eyes searching yours.
Jake shrugged, clearly unbothered. “Just testing the waters,” he said nonchalantly, giving you a wink. “I’ll leave you two to… whatever this is.” With that, he turned and walked back toward Ning Ning and Sunoo, leaving you alone with Jay.
Jay stepped forward, his movements hesitant, as if testing the waters. “Y/N,” he called softly, his tone laced with a mix of relief and uncertainty.
You stopped, turning to face him. “Hi, Jay,” you replied, trying to keep your voice even despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you.
“It’s been a while,” he said, his hands fidgeting in his pockets. “I… I didn’t think I’d see you again.”
You swallowed hard, your eyes briefly meeting his before darting away. “Yeah, I’ve been… busy.”
Jay took another step closer, the corners of his lips tugging into a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Busy, huh? Too busy to even text?”
His words hit you like a wave, leaving you momentarily speechless. “I thought…” you began hesitantly, your voice barely above a whisper, “I thought it’d be better if I stayed away. You seemed happy. With Giselle.”
Jay’s expression faltered, and he dropped his gaze to the floor, exhaling a slow, measured breath. “Yeah, I’m happy with Giselle,” he admitted quietly, his voice tinged with something you couldn’t quite place. “But that didn’t mean you had to stay away. We’re friends, right?” His tone softened as if he hoped that saying it gently might lessen the weight of the words.
Hearing him confirm his happiness with Giselle was like a dagger to your heart. You nodded numbly, biting your lip in a futile attempt to keep your emotions in check. But your eyes betrayed you, filled with the sadness you desperately tried to hide. It was a cruel reminder that the growing feelings you had for Jay would always be unrequited.
Life seemed to take away the one good thing you had just when you started to believe in it again. You knew better than to come between Jay and Giselle. You knew better than to linger in his life, where your feelings would only deepen, making it harder to pull away. But how could you not fall for him? How could you resist the silver-haired boy who made your heart race, who smelled like cedar and coffee, whose hair fell into his face as he played your favorite songs with that endearing focus?
A bitter laugh escaped your lips, masking the sound of your heart breaking. “I know I might not mean anything to you,” you began, voice trembling, “and you might not even care, but I don’t think I can stay friends with you, Jay.” Your words cracked as tears threatened to spill. “Because I know I’d just keep falling for you. And you have Giselle. I’m glad you’re happy with her. I don’t want to ruin the good thing you have in your life.”
Your voice dropped to a whisper, but the quiver betrayed the storm raging inside you. Jay’s eyes snapped to yours, his face softening as he registered the raw emotion you couldn’t conceal. You were on the brink of breaking, and both of you knew it.
Jay’s eyes widened as your words sank in, the color draining from his face. He took a small step closer, his hand twitching like he wanted to reach for you but stopped himself. “Y/N,” he started, his voice cracking. “It’s not… it’s not like that.”
You forced a smile, though your trembling lips betrayed the façade. “It’s okay, Jay,” you said softly, your voice laced with heartbreak. “You don’t have to explain. You don’t owe me anything.”
Jay opened his mouth, but no words came out. His heart ached at the sight of you—so vulnerable, so heartbreakingly honest. He felt like the worst kind of person, watching you lay your emotions bare before him, offering your heart only for him to crush it. And the worst part? He knew you anticipated his response. You always understood him too well, the uncanny compatibility between you two making it all the harder for him to let this moment pass.
But before he could say anything, you spoke again, your voice trembling with raw emotion. “I think…” you began, your tone fragile, “I think it’s best for us to just leave this as it is, Jay.”
Your words came out as a plea, each one pulling at his chest. You blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears from falling, but the strain in your voice betrayed how close you were to breaking. Sniffling quickly, you kept your gaze fixed on the ground, refusing to look at him. You couldn’t bear to see the pity—or worse, indifference—in his eyes.
“I wish you well, Jay,” you choked out, barely managing to suppress a sob as you turned to leave, each step away from him feeling like it might break you entirely.
Jay froze, the words lodging in his throat as he watched you crumble before him. He wanted to reach out, to pull you into his arms and tell you that you were wrong—that he didn’t want to leave things like this. But your trembling voice, laced with heartbreak, stopped him in his tracks.
“Y/N…” he whispered, his voice laden with desperation, as if searching for the right words to hold you there. His mind raced, trying to form an explanation, an excuse—anything to stop you from walking away.
But you shook your head quickly, a silent plea for him not to make this even harder. “Don’t, Jay. Please,” you interrupted, your voice trembling, your resolve wavering as the words hung in the air.
He froze, his throat tightening at the finality in your tone.
Jay’s chest tightened, the weight of your words suffocating him. “You weren’t wrong,” he said, his voice breaking. “You weren’t wrong about us.”
You offered him a sad smile, one that didn’t reach your eyes. “But it doesn’t matter, does it?”
He stepped closer, his presence warm yet hesitant, his hand hovering just inches from yours. For a moment, it seemed like he might take your hand, his fingers twitching with an unspoken yearning. But he hesitated, his hand lingering in the air, uncertain and desperate. It was as if he wasn’t sure if he had the right to hold onto you, to ask you to stay.
“It matters to me,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper, but the weight of his words carried straight to your heart. His gaze burned into yours, raw and unguarded, his emotions laid bare. “You matter to me, but not in the way you want it to be. ”
The vulnerability in his tone, the way his voice cracked slightly at the end, made your breath catch. You wanted to believe him, wanted to trust those words, but the pain in your chest reminded you of the boundaries that couldn’t be crossed. Still, his proximity, the sincerity in his eyes, made it harder to walk away.
Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you let yourself believe him. But the hurt was too deep, the scars too fresh. You knew you mattered, just not the way you wanted it to be. You took a step back, creating a physical barrier between you that mirrored the emotional one you were building.
“Bye, Jay,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you turned and walked away.
Jay stood there, rooted to the spot, watching you leave for the second time. He wanted to chase after you, to tell you everything he couldn’t put into words, but his feet refused to move. He could only watch as the person who had come to mean so much to him disappeared from his life, leaving him with a hollow ache in his chest and the echoes of what could have been.
For both of you, the goodbye felt final, even though your hearts whispered that it didn’t have to be.
Your friends exchanged bewildered glances, their confusion palpable, but you didn’t turn back. You couldn’t. With each step, the weight of your feelings threatened to crush you, but you forced yourself forward, knowing it was the only way to protect your heart.
“Hey, Jay,” Jake started cautiously, his voice steady but low. “What just happened?”
Jay’s gaze remained fixed on the door you’d just walked through, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. He couldn’t bring himself to answer. How could he possibly explain what had just transpired?
Sunoo sighed, placing a hand on Jake’s shoulder. “I think we should give them space,” he said softly, gesturing toward the door. “Let’s go check on Y/N.”
The group nodded in agreement, leaving Jay standing there, his silver hair catching the dim light of the shop. His uncle’s voice broke the silence.
“Jay,” Peter said gently, coming out from behind the counter. “You care about her, don’t you?”
Jay’s shoulders slumped, and he let out a shaky breath. “Yeah,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “I do.”
Peter gave him a sympathetic look, his brow furrowing in thought. “Then maybe it’s time you figure out what you really want. Don’t let her slip away without a fight, Jay. Not if she means this much to you.”
Jay nodded, but his heart felt heavy. He didn’t know if he deserved to fight for you after everything he’d put you through. But he did know one thing—losing you felt like losing a part of himself.
As the shop grew quiet again, Jay sat down on the stool, his hand instinctively reaching for Veronica. He strummed a few chords aimlessly, his mind replaying every moment he’d shared with you. The sound of the door chime echoed in the background, but this time, it wasn’t you walking through. It was emptiness, a reminder of what he had just lost.
Months had slipped by, yet Jay was still a ghost in your thoughts. You told yourself you were over him—that time and distance had healed the wound. But every now and then, a memory of his warm smile or the shared laughter over an inside joke would surface, and you couldn’t help but chuckle softly to yourself. It was fleeting, but the ache it brought lingered.
You convinced yourself you’d moved on. After all, you no longer visited the shop, no longer hovered over his contact late at night. But distance, as they say, often makes the heart grow fonder. Deep down, you knew your feelings for Jay weren’t just a fleeting crush or infatuation. They were deeper, more real than you wanted to admit.
On days when the ache felt unbearable, you found yourself wandering near the record shop. You told yourself it was coincidence, that it wasn’t intentional. But each time, your gaze would be drawn to the glass panel, and there he was. Sometimes he’d sit at the counter, lost in thought, his lips forming a soft pout. Other times, he’d strum Veronica on the stool where you used to sit, or move around the shop, chatting animatedly with customers.
And sometimes, just sometimes, it felt like he sensed your presence. His head would turn suddenly, eyes scanning the street. Your heart would leap, and you’d duck behind a pillar, pulse racing as if caught in a forbidden act. Surely, he hadn’t seen you. Right?
Eventually, you stopped. Sunoo, ever the voice of reason, had convinced you that spying from a distance wouldn’t help you move on. You listened. Or at least, you tried.
But Jay had noticed. Every time you came, he saw you—your wide eyes peeking around the corner, the way you hurriedly hid whenever he looked up. He felt a pull to step outside, to call your name, to close the distance between you. Yet, he held back. He told himself it wasn’t fair—to you, to Giselle, to the delicate balance of their lives. He was happy with Giselle—or at least, that’s what he repeated to himself.
So why did thoughts of you creep in when he wasn’t paying attention? Why did he catch himself searching for your laugh in the shop’s quiet, or remembering the way your eyes lit up when he played your favorite song? Could it be that he was falling for you too?
When he realized you’d stopped coming entirely, the tightening in his chest was unbearable. Did you finally move on? Had you met someone who played the guitar better than he could? Someone who shared your love for mint chocolate? The idea was suffocating, but he couldn’t shake it.
And for the first time in a long while, Jay wasn’t sure if he’d made the right choice.
One evening, Jay and Giselle went out for dinner, a rare chance to unwind amidst their busy schedules. After their meal, Giselle beamed, her eyes lighting up as she suggested, “Let’s grab some ice cream. There’s a new shop just down the block.”
Jay nodded, following her lead as they strolled into the cozy shop, the warm lights and cheerful atmosphere inviting them in. The server greeted them with a bright smile. “Welcome! Would you like to try our new flavors?” they asked enthusiastically, motioning to the chalkboard menu listing options in colorful script.
As Giselle scanned the choices, debating between strawberry basil and caramel pretzel, Jay’s eyes drifted over the menu absentmindedly. When the server turned to him, he surprised himself by blurting out, “I’ll have a cup of mint chocolate, please.”
Giselle’s head snapped toward him, a puzzled expression on her face. “Wait, mint chocolate? Don’t you hate that flavor?” she asked, her voice tinged with amusement and disbelief.
Jay froze for a moment, caught off guard by his own decision. The truth was, he hadn’t been thinking about himself when he ordered. He’d been thinking of you. Memories of your playful arguments over ice cream flooded his mind—how you’d stubbornly defended mint chocolate while accusing him of having the palate of a goat for liking matcha. He could almost hear your voice now, teasing and full of life, and the thought made his lips curl into a faint smile.
“Oh, yeah,” he said, trying to play it off casually. “Y/N used to love mint chocolate. She always said it didn’t taste like toothpaste. One time, I told her matcha was better, and she told me to eat grass instead.”
Giselle laughed softly, though there was a flicker of something in her eyes—curiosity, perhaps, or even unease. “Sounds like you and Y/N had a lot of… interesting debates.”
“Yeah,” Jay admitted, his voice quieter now. He didn’t elaborate, but as he took the first bite of the ice cream, a wave of nostalgia hit him. It was bittersweet, much like the flavor he once swore he disliked.
“I haven’t seen her around the shop lately. Did something happen between the two of you?” Giselle asked, her voice light but her gaze sharp, studying Jay’s reaction.
Jay’s brows furrowed as flashes of memory ran through his mind—your tearful goodbye, the way you’d pulled away from him, the words you’d whispered, so final and resolute. His chest tightened, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. He hated how those memories stirred feelings he couldn’t quite name, feelings that made him want to clutch onto them selfishly, as if preserving them for himself would somehow keep you closer.
“Yeah, uh… we’re not really friends anymore,” Jay said lightly, though his tone betrayed him. The seriousness in his voice, the subtle edge, told Giselle everything she needed to know. “But I don’t really want to talk about it.”
Giselle raised an eyebrow, intrigued but cautious. Jay wasn’t one to dwell on relationships that ended; he always kept his circle small, rarely letting people in. Usually, it was just his longtime friends—Heeseung and Sunghoon—who truly knew him. But you? You had broken through those walls in a matter of weeks. How had you done it?
Even Giselle, who had been dating Jay for months, had taken her time to chip away at his guarded exterior. Yet, with you, it seemed effortless. It gnawed at her—a quiet curiosity mixed with something she didn’t want to name.
Giselle studied Jay’s face, noticing the slight tension in his jaw and the way his grip on the ice cream cup tightened. It was rare for Jay to get so guarded, especially with her. She had always admired his calm and collected demeanor, but this was different. This was about you.
“You don’t want to talk about it?” Giselle repeated softly, her voice gentle but probing. “Jay, you know you can tell me anything, right?”
Jay exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair as if trying to shake off the weight of the conversation. He met Giselle’s gaze, his expression unreadable. “It’s not about not trusting you,” he said carefully. “It’s just... complicated.”
Giselle nodded slowly, though the curiosity in her eyes remained. “Complicated how?” she pressed, her tone still soft but laced with concern.
Jay hesitated, torn between the desire to keep the memories of you to himself and the need to reassure Giselle. “She... meant a lot to me,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, almost as if he were confessing something. “We connected in a way that felt different, you know? But it’s over now. She walked away, and I let her.”
Giselle’s brows furrowed at his words. “Different how?” she asked, the question slipping out before she could stop herself.
Jay paused, searching for the right words. “She just... got me,” he said finally. “In a way that didn’t feel forced or complicated. It was easy. She understood things about me that I didn’t even have to explain.”
Giselle’s heart sank at his honesty. She couldn’t ignore the pang of jealousy that crept into her chest, but she pushed it aside. “And what about us?” she asked, her voice tinged with vulnerability. “Do you feel that way with me?”
Jay’s eyes widened slightly, guilt flashing across his face. “Of course I do,” he said quickly, reaching out to take her hand. “Giselle, you’re amazing. You’re my girlfriend. This isn’t about comparing anyone to you. It’s just... a chapter in my life that I wasn’t expecting, and now it’s closed.”
But even as the words left his lips, Jay couldn’t ignore the hollow ache in his chest. Because while he might have closed that chapter, it didn’t mean he had stopped rereading it in his mind. And the more he tried to convince himself otherwise, the more your name lingered on the tip of his tongue.
You sat in the library with your project partner, Sunghoon, discussing how to split the workload. You realized that, despite his quiet demeanor, Sunghoon was actually pretty funny. He often described himself as a "loud introvert," and the more you got to know him, the more you agreed with that description. He gradually integrated into your friend group, quickly becoming close with everyone.
As school grew busier, you started pushing aside the feelings you had for Jay and focused on your studies. With Sunghoon, you managed to score a high grade on your assignment, leading you both to agree to partner up for every project from then on.
To celebrate the end of the school term, your friend group decided to take a trip to Rome, Italy. Everyone was excited to experience the breathtaking architecture. But, as always, life had other plans.
On your second day in Rome, Sunghoon suggested visiting a vinyl shop he had read about online. It wasn’t surprising; you’d come to learn that Sunghoon shared your love for music and had an appreciation for vintage records.
“I need to grab a gift for a friend,” Sunghoon explained as you both waited for a taxi. “He’s really into vinyls. Works in his uncle’s guitar shop.”
The mention of a guitar shop made you freeze for a moment, Jay’s face flashing in your mind. But you quickly pushed the thought aside. Rome was a big city; there was no way this could be connected.It had been a while since you'd last seen him or even spoken to him, and you couldn't help but wonder how he was doing. But the memory of him telling you that he couldn’t see you as more than a friend still lingered, and it made your heart ache even after all this time.
You were standing outside a café, scanning for a place to sit. You noticed a table with a guy sitting alone, an empty seat across from him. Something about the broad shoulders felt familiar. For a moment, you thought it was Jay, but then you remembered that Jay had silver hair, not black, and you doubted he would be in Rome. But you were completely wrong.
Summoning your courage, you walked over to the boy, tapping him lightly on the shoulder. You tried to sound cheerful, “Hi, I’m so sorry to bother you, but would it be possible to share the table? I’m just waiting for someone.” You flashed your best smile, attempting to appear friendly.
But as soon as he looked up, your breath caught. Sitting at the table with a book in hand was Jay, Jongseong. You gasped in shock, and his surprised gaze met yours.
His gaze shifted from confusion to surprise, and then to something you couldn't quite place—longing? Relief? Happiness?
"Y/N?" Jay's voice was filled with disbelief. "Is that you?"
"Jay? What are you doing here?" you responded, equally shocked. How was he in Rome?
You took a moment to take in his appearance—his silver hair was now dyed back to black, and he wore a pair of black-framed glasses perched on his nose. His outfit was simple: a black shirt, blue jeans, and Rick Owens sneakers, yet somehow he looked even more handsome. You couldn’t help but notice the other female customers in the café subtly glancing in his direction, likely drawn to his effortless charm.
Suddenly, the feelings you had buried for so long began to resurface—faster and more intensely than you had expected. You missed him. You missed him more than you cared to admit. You hadn’t expected to see Jay again, but here he was, in front of you, and everything about this moment felt overwhelming.
When Jay felt a tap on his shoulder, he was expecting it to be Giselle, ready to tell him it was time to go. To be honest, the only reason he was even in Rome was for the vinyls and guitar shops—he knew there would be rare finds, given how long some of the shops had been around.
But he didn’t expect to see you.
You were standing in front of him, wearing a sundress in his favorite color—green. The way you smiled brightly at him, only to pause when you realized it was him, made his chest tighten. You looked so beautiful in that dress, the fabric flowing all the way down to your ankles, making you look like something straight out of a fairy tale. Jay’s heart began to race as he took you in, unable to tear his eyes away.
His mind raced, thoughts colliding with the reality of the situation. How was it possible that after all this time, here you were—standing in front of him in Rome? The emotions he had carefully tucked away began to surface again, sharper than before. The feelings he had suppressed, buried in the quiet moments when he let himself think of you, were now resurfacing with an intensity he wasn’t prepared for.
“I–you–how?” Jay’s voice came out as a strained whisper, his words caught in his throat. He missed you, he truly did. It wasn’t right to feel this way when he had Giselle, but he couldn’t help it. Not when you were standing there, wearing his favorite color, looking so beautiful with the sunlight catching your hair. His heart ached, watching the way your smile faltered after you recognized him.
“I’m here with Giselle,” he said, his voice low, almost as if trying to explain himself, “She wanted to go on a trip.”
The way your eyes dimmed at the mention of her made a sharp pain hit his chest. He didn’t know why it hurt so much, but that wasn’t important right now. He needed to talk to you. He needed to know how you were doing, how school had been, how you were holding up. He wanted to tell you that he had changed his mind about mint chocolate, that he now secretly liked it, and how he couldn’t stop listening to White Ferrari by Frank Ocean because the lyrics reminded him of you. He needed to know if you had moved on from him, if you were okay.
Before he could say any of this, you spoke. “I think I should go. Sorry to bother you. Have a good trip, Jay.” Your voice was soft, and Jay could hear the pain you tried to hide, the yearning that lingered beneath your words. How much you missed talking to him, how much you missed watching him play Veronica.
“Wait—Y/N.” His hand shot out, grabbing your wrist gently but firmly, holding you in place as he stood up.
“Please don’t run away from me again,” Jay’s voice was softer now, but it trembled with vulnerability. The desperation in his words made his chest ache, and the way he looked at you, his gaze so open and raw, left no room for doubt—he needed you to stay.
He knew deep down it was wrong. So, so wrong. But in that moment, all he could think about was how much he longed to see you again.
“Jay? What are you—who’s that? Oh, y/n?” Giselle’s voice sliced through the tension as she neared the two of you, her footsteps faltering slightly as she took in the scene.
Giselle's voice rang out sharply, pulling Jay’s attention toward her. Her eyes, once confident, now flickered with something unsettling. As she got closer, the look of confusion and concern on her face grew. She took in the sight of Jay still holding onto your wrist, the gentle way his fingers were wrapped around you. His gaze was soft, almost pleading, something that made her heart twist. She could feel the weight of the shift in the air, the subtle change in Jay's demeanor, and she knew something was different.
The sight of him looking at you like that, so vulnerable and open, made her stomach churn with unease. Giselle had always been sure of Jay—sure of the way he looked at her, sure of the space he made for her in his life. But now, it felt like something was slipping out of her grasp, something she couldn’t quite define.
She knew about Jay’s past relationships—how his exes would beg him to take them back, and yet he never budged. Jay had always been laidback, never one to push things or chase anyone. He’d let things happen naturally, even if that meant moving on when things got tough. But this? This was different.
As she studied you, her gaze softened just a little, but it was enough for you to feel the shift. She could tell by the way you carried yourself that there was more to your relationship with Jay than just a casual meeting. There was history in the way he held your wrist, in the way his eyes searched yours for something he seemed to have lost. It wasn’t hard to see it now. Giselle had been with Jay for long enough to know the subtleties of his body language, but she had never seen him like this. Never seen him plead with anyone.
The jealousy bubbled up in her chest, rising faster than she could control it. She hated feeling like this, but she couldn’t stop it. The effortless way you had him wrapped around your finger was something she could never seem to achieve. No matter how hard she tried to get close to him, how much effort she put into learning about his music, his favorite bands, his quirks—Jay had always been a little distant, a little elusive, like he was holding something back.
But with you? It was different. The connection was palpable, even if it was unspoken. You had always been able to reach him in ways she couldn’t, and the sight of him wanting to talk to you, to stay with you, made her feel invisible.
As Giselle’s gaze turned bitter, she watched Jay’s grip on your wrist loosen, his hand dropping back to his side, defeated. She saw you step back, but the look in your eyes—mirroring Jay’s longing—was all the confirmation she needed. You weren’t just infatuated with her boyfriend; you were in love with him. You were in love with Jay.
“Y/n, what a coincidence!”
Giselle’s smile was tight, laced with an air of false cheerfulness as she greeted you. The subtle intertwining of her fingers with Jay’s was intentional— a clear display of ownership, a silent message that she wasn’t going anywhere. She wanted you to see it, wanted you to feel the distance between you and Jay, wanted you to know that no matter the history, the connection, or the lingering feelings that might still exist, Jay was hers. And she would make sure you understood that.
Jay’s fingers curled against hers, a motion so small, yet filled with so much meaning. Giselle wasn’t sure if it was a silent reassurance for her or a subtle signal to her, telling her not to overstep, not to push too far. He wasn’t looking at her as much as he was looking at you—his gaze was distant, almost apologetic, as though there was a silent conversation going on between the three of you without words. But Giselle was determined to play her part, to hold onto what she thought was hers.
She watched you, her eyes narrowing just slightly, noticing the way your gaze flickered to their intertwined hands, the way your lips pressed into a thin line as the sadness in your eyes became undeniable. For a moment, Giselle felt a flicker of guilt. She could see it in your eyes—the resignation, the hurt, the unspoken words. But that flicker was fleeting, quickly buried beneath a layer of pride and possessiveness.
She watched your expression falter, the realization hitting that the distance between you and Jay was no longer something you could ignore. The subtle disappointment in your face was enough for her to feel a cruel satisfaction. It was like the pieces of a puzzle falling into place. Giselle wasn’t stupid—she could read the way Jay’s body language changed when he was around you, the way his eyes lingered a little too long, the way his tone softened. She could feel it now—the same undercurrent of something that had once been hers. And she wasn’t about to let that slip away without a fight.
The quiet ache in her chest was still there, but it was drowned out by the heat of her jealousy, her insecurity, her need to win. And if that meant pushing you to your breaking point, to make you feel as small and as invisible as possible, then she was willing to do whatever it took. You weren’t going to be the one to take him away. Not after all the effort she had put in to build her life with him.
As Giselle turned her head to kiss Jay on the lips, she heard the small gasp escape from you, and in that moment, she knew she had won.
Your heart shattered, watching Giselle kiss Jay. You wished it could be you, to hold his hand, to feel his arms around you, to feel his lips against yours. But that would never happen, not when all Jay saw you as was a friend. You wanted to turn and walk away, but the ache in your chest kept you rooted to the ground, helplessly watching the scene before you.
Silently, you prayed for someone—anyone—to pull you from the situation. It felt like the universe answered your silent plea when Sunghoon arrived.
“Y/n, let’s go—Jay?” Sunghoon’s voice called out, confusion creeping into his tone as he noticed Jay standing in front of you.
“Hoon?” Jay responded, just as confused, wondering how you and Sunghoon knew each other.
“What are you doing here?” Both of them asked in unison.
“I’m here with Giselle for a holiday. You? How’d you know Y/n?” Jay cleared his throat, trying to keep things lighthearted, though his voice held an edge of protectiveness that Giselle quickly noticed.
Sunghoon glanced back and forth between you and Jay before offering Giselle a polite smile in greeting.
“You guys know each other? Y/n, that’s the friend I told you about who works at a guitar shop. That’s Jay,” Sunghoon explained, oblivious to the tension in the air.
Ah, so they were friends.
Before anyone could say another word, Giselle cut through the silence, her voice a little too bright. “Oh my god, are you guys dating? Jay, look at their matching bracelet! It’s so cute. Should we get one too?” She gestured toward the friendship bracelet that Jungwon had made your whole friend group get, but since the others weren’t around, it made it look like you and Sunghoon were a couple.
Jay’s breath hitched. Were you dating Sunghoon now? How did he not know about this? Sunghoon had never mentioned anything about you when they hung out. Why were you alone with him?
You wanted to explain, to deny the accusation, because it felt wrong to even entertain the thought of being with someone other than Jay. But as your eyes locked with Giselle’s, she gave you a look that made it clear what she was trying to do. You could feel the guilt washing over you. No matter how hard you tried to distance yourself from Jay, the pull was still there.
So, with a heavy heart, you nodded and whispered, “Yeah, we’ve been dating for a while now. We’re in the same class, and we got closer.” You rushed the words out, hoping they sounded convincing.
Sunghoon looked down at you, his brow furrowing in confusion, but he knew better than to expose your lie in front of everyone now. He played along, extending his hand to hold yours.
“Sorry I didn’t tell you guys sooner. I just wanted to find the right time to properly introduce her,” Sunghoon lied smoothly, glancing at Jay.
The weight of the lie you just told settled heavily in your chest. Every word felt like a betrayal, not just to Jay, but to yourself. You could see the confusion flicker in his eyes, the way his lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to ask more, to understand, but he couldn’t. Instead, he swallowed whatever questions he had, and his gaze drifted to Sunghoon, his brows furrowed.
Giselle, on the other hand, was smiling too brightly. She was the one who had won, the one who had forced your hand. Her expression was smug, satisfied as she watched the situation unfold. When you nodded and agreed with her assumption, it was like she had claimed her victory. The small, almost imperceptible twitch in Jay's expression wasn’t enough to make her question her dominance. Instead, she looked between the two of you, a thin veil of sweetness hiding the bitterness she felt beneath the surface.
Jay couldn’t look at you directly. He turned to Sunghoon, his voice casual, yet there was a hint of uncertainty in it. "I didn’t know you two were... close," he said, the words like they were heavier than they sounded.
You couldn’t help but feel like you were suffocating. Every part of you wanted to reach out to Jay, to tell him the truth, to explain that you never intended for this to happen. That it wasn’t about Sunghoon at all. But Giselle’s gaze held you firmly in place, daring you to break, daring you to unravel.
Sunghoon’s hand on yours felt oddly comforting, but it couldn’t block out the ache in your chest. He squeezed your hand, the pressure there like a silent reassurance. He had always been protective, always there for you when you needed someone. But even in this moment, his presence felt like it wasn’t enough to shield you from the heaviness of the lie. The guilt gnawed at you, the burden of keeping up this façade pulling you further away from the truth.
"Right," Jay said finally, his voice quieter now. He gave a small nod, but it was clear that something was weighing on him. His gaze flickered back to you briefly, but you couldn’t meet his eyes. You couldn’t bear to.
Giselle leaned in a little closer to Jay, her fingers tightening around his. "Well, if you’re all set, I think we should go, baby. We have a lot of things to do, don’t we?" Her tone was overly sweet, but it cut through the tension like a knife. She was reminding everyone who Jay was with, reminding you where you stood.
You nodded, your heart sinking deeper into your chest. "Yeah, you should go. I should go too," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.
Sunghoon gave you a gentle nudge, his thumb brushing against the back of your hand, and you took a step away, trying to escape the suffocating atmosphere. But as you turned away, you caught one last glimpse of Jay—his face unreadable, his body tense. He was still holding onto something, still fighting the pull between you and Giselle, between what was real and what had to be hidden.
You turned your back before your emotions could get the best of you, walking away with Sunghoon by your side. But even as you put distance between yourself and that moment, you knew the lie you had told wouldn’t just fade. It was going to hang over you, a shadow you wouldn’t be able to outrun. And Jay? Well, you had no idea where things stood with him anymore. But you knew one thing for sure—everything had just become so much more complicated.
“What was that?” Sunghoon asked softly once you were out of sight of the couple.
“I didn’t know you two were friends,” you mumbled, your gaze fixed on the ground. “I met Jay when I visited the guitar shop he worked at. We got along really well, and I...” You hesitated, your voice faltering. Sunghoon’s reassuring nod gave you the courage to continue.
“And I fell for him,” you admitted quietly. “But then I found out he was dating Giselle. I tried to move on, Sunghoon. I really did. But now, seeing him here in Rome... it’s like all those feelings are coming back, stronger than before.”
Your voice dropped to a near-whisper, trembling with emotion. “I think I’m in love with him, Sunghoon. But I can’t have him, and it hurts so much.”
Sunghoon stopped walking, his expression serious as he took in your words. He didn't interrupt, letting you speak your heart, and when you finished, there was a long pause. You could feel the weight of the silence between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.
He let out a quiet sigh before looking at you with understanding eyes, his tone soft. “I had no idea you felt that way about Jay,” he said slowly. “I could tell something was off, but I didn’t know it went this deep. You don’t have to carry this burden alone, Y/n.”
You looked up at him, the vulnerability in your eyes showing the rawness of your feelings. "I feel so stupid," you admitted, "for letting myself fall for someone who’s already with someone else. And now I don’t know what to do. I can’t just… turn it off. But seeing him with Giselle, holding her hand, it was like a slap in the face."
Sunghoon’s expression softened, his voice firm and caring. “You’re not stupid, Y/n. Love isn’t something you can control. You can’t just turn it off because it’s inconvenient. And I know it hurts to see him with her, but you have to remember that his relationship with Giselle doesn’t define you. You deserve someone who sees you the way you see them, someone who won’t make you feel like second place.”
You closed your eyes, the weight of his words settling in. You wanted so badly to be that person for Jay, but the reality of the situation made it feel impossible.
“I know,” you whispered. “But it doesn’t change how I feel.”
“I get it,” Sunghoon replied quietly. “And you’re allowed to feel that way. But you have to focus on healing, Y/n. If you keep holding onto something that isn’t yours, it’s only going to hurt more in the long run.” He paused, watching you carefully. “You deserve someone who’s going to choose you, not someone who’s already made their choice.”
Your chest tightened as Sunghoon’s words echoed in your mind. You nodded slowly, but a part of you still longed for something that seemed so far out of reach.
“I don’t know if I can move on from him, Sunghoon,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper.
Sunghoon gently squeezed your hand. “You don’t have to right away. But take it one day at a time. You’ll get through this, Y/n. And no matter what happens, I’m here for you, okay?”
You gave him a small, grateful smile, the first one in what felt like a long time. "Thank you, Hoon. I really needed to hear that."
Jay couldn’t focus on anything Giselle was saying because his thoughts were consumed by you: the way you looked in that green dress, the brightness of your smile. He had always thought he was good at making decisions, at choosing the right path. But sitting alone in a café in Rome, he realized that when it came to you, he didn’t even know what the right thing was anymore.
“Are you falling for her?” Giselle’s voice broke through his thoughts, sharp and accusing. She stared at him, waiting for an answer.
Usually, Jay would have shaken his head defensively, pouring extra effort into reassuring her—just as he always did when she questioned his feelings. But this time, he couldn’t.
When Jay started dating Giselle, he thought she was the one. He pictured himself ten years down the road, marrying her, starting a family. That vision had seemed so clear and solid. But now, everything was blurry. Everything was you.
His head hung low in shame and guilt. He couldn’t bring himself to meet her gaze or deny it. He didn’t want to lie to himself anymore, and he didn’t want to lie to Giselle either.
The sight of Jay’s silence, his lowered head, shattered something inside Giselle. She felt her heart plummet, realizing what he wasn’t saying aloud—that he was starting to fall for someone else, and it was happening right in front of her eyes.
Hurt and sadness flickered across her face as she looked at him. She wasn’t ready to let him go. Not yet. She had loved him dearly and used to feel so secure in their relationship. She never had to question his loyalty or love. Jay had always been kind, warm, respectful—a man anyone would admire. He had been her perfect match.
But then you came into his life, and everything changed. You unraveled their relationship without even trying. She could see it in the way Jay’s face lit up when he talked about you, in the private jokes he’d share that only the two of you could understand. Even when they were out together, he would somehow bring you up.
There were nights when insecurity gnawed at her, especially when she noticed how his shoulders slumped as if he were expecting someone else to walk through the door—someone who wasn’t her. She knew, deep down, that he was looking for you.
Frustration and anger consumed her, and eventually, those feelings overwhelmed her guilt. She sought solace elsewhere. Intak had been a distraction, a way to fill the void left by Jay’s drifting attention. Initially, she felt guilty about going out with Intak while still with Jay, but over time, she convinced herself it wasn’t her fault. It was your fault.
You had turned Jay’s head. You had ruined what they had. And now, standing there, she could feel her anger boiling over, fueled by the bitterness of knowing she had been losing him long before this moment.
“Giselle…” he finally murmured, his voice low and uneven. He looked up, and the heartbreak in her eyes made his chest tighten painfully. “I—I don’t know what to say.”
Jay felt the weight of Giselle’s silence as it stretched between them, the tension thick and suffocating. He could feel her gaze boring into him, searching for answers he wasn’t ready to give. He didn’t have the courage to look at her, his shame tethering him to the ground, keeping his eyes fixed on the polished table in front of him.
The truth was messy, tangled in emotions he didn’t want to acknowledge. He knew it wasn’t fair to Giselle, and he hated himself for it. She didn’t deserve this—not the doubt, not the hesitation, not the betrayal that lingered unspoken between them.
Giselle let out a shaky breath, her hands clenched into fists on her lap. “Do you even realize what you’ve done to me, Jay? Do you know how hard I’ve fought for us, for this relationship, while you—” Her voice broke again, and she took a moment to steady herself. “While you were busy thinking about her?”
Jay flinched at the accusation, the raw truth cutting deeper than he expected. He wanted to deny it, to tell her that it wasn’t like that, but he couldn’t. He didn’t have the right to argue when he knew she was right.
Her words hung heavy in the air, and Jay felt like he couldn’t breathe. He wanted to say something, anything, to make it better, but every word felt hollow, insincere. He could only sit there, his mind racing with thoughts of you, of Giselle, of the tangled mess he had created.
“Do you love her?” Giselle asked suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Jay froze, the question hitting him like a punch to the gut. Love? The word echoed in his mind, stirring up feelings he wasn’t ready to confront. He didn’t know how to answer. All he knew was that when he thought of you, his heart felt full and aching all at once, and the thought of losing you—of never seeing you again—made it hard to breathe.
“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice cracking. “But I think…I think I could.”
Giselle’s breath hitched, and she stood abruptly, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. “I can’t do this right now,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. She grabbed her bag and stormed out of the café, leaving Jay sitting there, alone and drowning in the weight of his guilt and confusion.
For the first time, he wondered if he’d already lost everything he thought he wanted—and if you were the one he’d been searching for all along.
Jay watched Giselle’s silhouette disappear into the distance, a heavy weight settling in his chest. He should feel relief, should focus on being the boyfriend she deserved—but his thoughts were tangled, knotted around you. If he truly loved Giselle, there wouldn’t be room for this ache, this restless longing that clawed at him every time he thought of you.
You weren’t his. You never were. And now you were with Sunghoon, his best friend. It should have been easy to let you go, to convince himself that you belonged to someone else. But watching you walk away again felt like someone had ripped a piece of him out, leaving behind a hollow that pulsed with a dull, relentless pain.
Jay told himself he needed to stop. Stop complicating things, stop dreaming of something that could never be. Maybe you were always destined to be a "what if," a fleeting possibility that would haunt him for years to come. He owed it to Giselle to be better, to finally close the door on these feelings. But before he could force himself to let go, he needed to see you one last time.
Later that night, just as you were trying to convince yourself to sleep, your phone buzzed. The screen lit up with a message from Jay.
“Hey, can we talk?”
Your chest tightened. You stared at the words, your hands trembling as you debated your response. Another text followed almost immediately:
“Please.”
The desperation in that one word hit you like a punch to the gut. You wanted to say no, to protect yourself, to end this painful cycle before it broke you completely. But what right did you have to talk to Jay? You weren’t friends, weren’t lovers. You were barely even anything at all anymore.
Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, the tears already falling as you typed:
“Jay, we can’t. This isn’t right. Please don’t make this harder than it already is. We’re both happy. Maybe it’s time to put an end to this.”
You stared at the message, knowing how false it was. Happy? How could you call this agony happiness? The boy you loved was in someone else’s arms, and yet here you were, lying to him and to yourself.
The moment you hit send, your phone rang. Jay’s name flashed on the screen, and your heart lurched violently. You answered, your voice barely above a whisper.
“Hello?”
“Y/N, I’m— I’m downstairs. At your hotel,” Jay’s voice came through, rushed and uneven, like he was struggling to breathe. “I asked Sunghoon. I’m sorry, but I need to see you. Just for a while… please?”
His words were frantic, pleading. You could hear the urgency, the raw edge to his voice that shattered what little resolve you had left.
“I’ll wait until you come down,” he added, his voice softer now, almost broken, before hanging up.
You gripped your phone tightly, your heart a storm of emotions you couldn’t contain. You hated him for doing this to you, for making it impossible to stay away. But more than that, you hated yourself for never being able to say no to him. Jay was your weakness, your undoing. He was the boy who had stolen your heart so effortlessly and left you with nothing but pain in its place.
Before you knew it, your feet carried you out the door, down the elevator, and into the night. Each step felt heavier than the last, the weight of your emotions pressing down on you.
When you reached the street, you saw him immediately. He was leaning against the wall, head hung low, his hands nervously twisting the jacket he held. As you approached, trying to keep your steps quiet, his head snapped up, his eyes finding yours instantly.
For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence between you felt deafening, loaded with everything you couldn’t say. The world around you faded, the hum of the city dimming as the two of you stood there, suspended in time.
The soft glow of the streetlamp illuminated his face, highlighting the tension in his jaw and the storm in his eyes. He looked at you like you were both the answer to every question and the reason for every problem. And you hated how much you wanted to fall apart right there, in front of him, just to feel his arms catch you.
But you knew better. This was a game you could never win, and yet here you were, ready to lose all over again.
Before you could even process what was happening, Jay closed the distance between you, his hands cradling your face with a mix of urgency and tenderness before his lips crashed onto yours. The kiss was electric, chaotic, and raw, filled with emotions that neither of you had been able to express in words. His lips moved fervently against yours, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, and you felt the weight of his desperation, longing, guilt, and frustration pouring into every movement.
You froze at first, your mind screaming at you to push him away. This was wrong—so, so wrong. He had a girlfriend. You had Sunghoon. This moment wasn’t supposed to exist, and yet, as his warmth enveloped you, you found yourself unable to resist.
You weren’t supposed to enjoy the way his lips felt on yours, the way they ignited a fire in you that you’d tried so hard to extinguish. You weren’t supposed to let your hands drift up to clutch at his shirt, pulling him closer as though he was the only thing keeping you grounded. But you did.
The world around you disappeared, and all that remained was Jay—his touch, his breath, his presence overwhelming you entirely. Your lips moved against his with the same frantic energy, your emotions spilling out in a silent confession. You kissed him back with everything you had, trying to imprint this moment into your memory because deep down, you knew it wouldn’t last.
This wasn’t yours to keep. This wasn’t yours at all. And yet, for this fleeting moment, you allowed yourself to believe that it could be. Tonight, you let yourself forget the consequences, the heartbreak waiting just beyond the glow of the streetlamp. Tonight, you gave yourself to Jay completely, even as your heart fractured under the weight of knowing that this would only ever be a stolen moment.
The world seemed to blur around you as Jay’s lips moved against yours. The cold night air faded, replaced by the heat of the moment, the intensity of emotions you both tried so hard to suppress. His hands were warm, firm yet tender as they cradled your face, grounding you in the whirlwind of feelings you had been running from for so long.
But the weight of reality loomed over you like a shadow, tugging at your conscience even as your heart begged you to stay in this fleeting moment. The kiss was a storm—fierce, unrelenting, and consuming—but you knew storms always passed, leaving devastation in their wake.
“Jay,” you gasped, breaking away, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Your hands, still clutching his shirt, trembled as you looked up at him. His eyes were dark, searching yours for answers, for reassurance, for anything to justify what had just happened.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, but his hands didn’t leave your face. “I just... I couldn’t hold back anymore.”
You shook your head, tears welling up as the weight of what had just happened crashed over you. “This isn’t right, Jay. We can’t do this,” you said, your voice cracking. “You have Giselle. And me—I’m with Sunghoon.” The words felt hollow, but you forced them out, hoping to remind both of you of the lines you’d just crossed.
His jaw tightened at the mention of Sunghoon, and he looked away briefly, as if the thought pained him. “I know,” he said quietly. “I know this is wrong. But I couldn’t stop myself. I needed to see you.” he admitted, his voice laced with regret. “But I can’t stop thinking about you, Y/N. I’ve tried—I’ve tried so hard, but no matter what, you’re always there.”
His confession tore through you, the raw vulnerability in his words igniting something deep within your chest, but the guilt that followed was sharper. “Jay, you don’t understand what this will do to everyone,” you said, wiping at your tears. “This isn’t just about us. Giselle loves you. Sunghoon trusts me. We can’t destroy them for something that might not even last.”
Jay’s jaw tightened, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “Do you really believe that? That this—” he gestured between the two of you, his voice trembling—“is nothing?”
You hesitated, your heart battling your mind, the truth caught in the space between. “I don’t know,” you finally admitted, your voice barely audible. “I don’t know what this is, Jay. But I know it can’t happen like this.”
Jay took a shaky step back, his face falling as the reality of your words sank in. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling deeply as if trying to compose himself. “You’re right,” he said quietly, his tone resigned. “This isn’t fair to anyone.”
You nodded, your chest aching as you watched the boy you loved wrestle with the same emotions tearing you apart. “We need to let this go,” you said, even though the words felt like knives in your throat. “For them. For us.”
Jay looked at you one last time, his eyes filled with sorrow and longing, before nodding slowly. “Goodbye, Y/N,” he said, his voice heavy with finality.
You watched as he turned and walked away, the distance between you growing with each step. You were hoping that he didnt look back, because he would have seen your legs give out, as you sobbed silently, your tears falling freely under the soft glow of the streetlamp.
Tonight was supposed to be the night you let him go, but as you stood there, your heart breaking, you realized letting go was far harder than you could have imagined.
But then, Jay did look back.
He froze when his eyes found you, crouched on the pavement with your head buried in your hands, your shoulders trembling. You weren’t looking at him, but the sight alone cut through him like a blade. He could feel your pain, raw and unrestrained, and it twisted in his chest until he couldn’t breathe.
He knew what this was. He felt it too—the tension, the connection, the pull. But if he felt it so deeply, why couldn’t he take the leap? Why couldn’t he let go of Giselle if every fiber of his being was drawn to you?
Jay knew the answer. Deep down, he was a coward. Afraid of the consequences, afraid of shattering the life he’d built, even if it meant suffocating the part of him that longed for you. He hid behind Giselle, behind the facade of comfort, because facing the truth meant risking everything.
But now, watching you fall apart, something inside him snapped. It was as if an unseen force dragged him back to you. His feet moved before his mind caught up, and suddenly, he was kneeling beside you, his voice trembling as he whispered, “What am I going to do with you?”
His expression was strained, filled with anguish as he reached for you, pulling you into his arms. The warmth of his embrace broke the dam you’d been holding back.
“I missed you so much, Jay,” you sobbed, your voice trembling and raw. “I’m sorry. I know I messed everything up. I complicated things for you, but I’m in love with you. I know you’re not mine to have, but it hurts so much, Jay. I love you, but I know you’re happy with someone else, and I—”
Your words dissolved into breathless cries as Jay tightened his hold on you. His arms wrapped around you as if trying to shield you from the very pain he’d caused, his own silent tears slipping into the night as he held you close. For that moment, the rest of the world didn’t exist—only the two of you, broken and vulnerable under the glow of the streetlamp.
Jay’s heart clenched at your words, each syllable carving deeper into the conflict he carried. He didn’t speak immediately, just held you tighter, his own emotions threatening to spill over as he buried his face in your hair. Your sobs echoed through the quiet street, raw and unfiltered, and for the first time in a long while, he felt utterly powerless.
“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice trembling as he pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your tear-streaked face. His thumb brushed against your cheek, wiping away a stray tear as his own eyes glistened. “I’ve missed you too. More than I should, more than I ever wanted to. You have no idea how many nights I’ve stayed awake thinking about you, wondering what it would be like if things were...different.”
The pain in his voice was undeniable, and it only made your tears fall harder. “Then why, Jay?” you whispered, your voice breaking as you searched his face. “Why can’t we—why can’t you—”
“Because I’m scared,” he admitted, the words spilling out before he could stop them. His voice cracked under the weight of his confession, and he looked away, ashamed. “I’m scared of ruining everything. Of hurting Giselle. Of losing you if this doesn’t work. I don’t know how to let go of her, and I don’t know how to let go of you.”
His honesty only made the ache in your chest grow. You reached out, placing a trembling hand on his cheek, guiding his gaze back to you. “Jay, you can’t have it both ways,” you said softly, your voice heavy with both love and pain. “You have to choose. And if you can’t, then maybe...maybe I have to make the choice for you.”
“No,” Jay said quickly, his hand flying to cover yours. “Don’t. Don’t leave me, Y/N. Please.” The desperation in his tone made your heart twist, but you knew deep down that something had to give.
“I can’t keep holding on to someone who was never mine to begin with, Jay,” you whispered, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “You’re you, and I’m… me. Can’t you see? You’re talented, warm, kind, gentle—and I’m a mess. Giselle… she suits you. She’s beautiful, patient, everything I’m not. You two look perfect together.”
You paused, your breaths shaky as you tried to steady yourself, but the pain in your chest only grew heavier. “I’m so tired, Jay. I’m tired of the nights I lie awake, wishing I could be the one in your arms. I’m tired of being afraid of myself because I want so desperately to be the one you look at with that gentleness in your eyes. I want to be the one who makes you laugh, the girl who loves you with her whole heart.”
Your voice faltered, breaking into a strained whisper as tears streamed down your face. “But I can’t. I can’t be that girl, Jay. I’ll never be her.”
Your sobs softened into quiet sniffles, the silence between you thick and suffocating. You couldn’t bear to look at him, afraid of what you might see—pity, regret, or worse, nothing at all. All the words you’d kept locked inside were now laid bare, and yet, the ache in your chest only deepened, the weight of your unspoken love threatening to crush you.
Jay’s chest tightened with every word you spoke, each one laced with pain, longing, and a finality that made his heart feel like it was being crushed. He reached out for you instinctively, his hands trembling, but he stopped himself, letting them fall to his sides. He knew he had no right to comfort you—not when he was the source of your pain.
“Y/N…” he began, his voice hoarse and broken. “Don’t say that. Please, don’t say that about yourself.” His eyes glistened with unshed tears as he took a shaky step toward you, though the weight of your words kept him from getting too close. “You don’t see what I see, do you? You’re not a mess. You’re—” He swallowed hard, his voice cracking. “You’re everything, Y/N. Everything I didn’t even know I needed. And I hate myself for making you feel like you’re not enough because you are. You always were.”
Your lips trembled as you shook your head, stepping back. “Don’t do this, Jay. Don’t say these things when you know you can’t follow through. You’re with her, and I’m… I’m not a part of that world. I can’t keep pretending like there’s a place for me in your life when all I’m doing is hurting myself.”
He reached out again, his hand hovering near yours before pulling it back, defeated. “I don’t know what to do, Y/N,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m so lost. I thought I had everything figured out, but then you walked into my life, and now—now nothing makes sense. I don’t want to lose you, but I also don’t want to keep hurting you like this. I don’t know how to let go of you, Y/N. I don’t know how to stop wanting you.”
You bit your lip, forcing yourself to stay strong even as his words tore you apart. “You have to,” you said, your voice steady despite the tears streaming down your face. “For both of us. You have to let me go, Jay. Because I can’t keep living like this. I can’t keep loving someone who’s never going to be mine.”
The finality of your words hung heavy in the air, and Jay felt his knees go weak. He wanted to argue, to plead with you to stay, but deep down, he knew you were right. He had been selfish, holding onto you while refusing to make a choice. And now, it was too late.
“Okay,” he whispered, his voice cracking as tears rolled down his cheeks. “Okay, Y/N. If that’s what you need, I’ll—I’ll let you go. But just know that I…” He hesitated, the words caught in his throat. “I’m sorry. For everything. For not being brave enough to choose you. For hurting you. For loving you when I shouldn’t have.”
You nodded, your chest heaving as you tried to steady your breathing. “Goodbye, Jay,” you whispered, the words barely audible but heavy with meaning.
And this time, when you walked away, Jay didn’t follow. He stayed rooted to the spot, watching you disappear into the night, his heart shattered into pieces he wasn’t sure he could ever put back together.
Maybe in another life, maybe in another universe, he would have been the one to hold you close, his arms your safest place. He would have been the one to press soft kisses to your temple, nuzzling his nose against your neck as though the world outside didn’t exist. He would have been the one to wake beside you each morning, his fingers gently brushing through your hair, his gaze filled with the quiet adoration of someone who’d found their forever.
He would have carried you on his back when your legs gave out, laughing at your complaints but never letting go. He would have cooked your favorite meals, waiting for the sound of your keys turning in the door because coming home meant coming back to him. He would have been the one to stand at the end of the aisle, his heart racing as he watched you walk toward him in a gown that made you look like a dream.
He would have been the one you said “I do” to, your voice steady and full of promise. He would have been the one who vowed to hold you through the storms and the sunshine, in moments of joy and in those of despair. For better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health—he would have been the one to love and cherish you until your very last breath.
In another life, in another universe, he would have been the one. But here, in this tangled mess of reality, he could only dream of the love that could have been.
Maybe in another life, Jay thought, the universe would have been kinder to the both of you. In that life, there would be no Giselle, no tangled strings of guilt and confusion, no walls of "what ifs" and "too lates." In that life, he wouldn't have hesitated. He wouldn't have second-guessed every decision, every step closer to you.
He could imagine it so clearly, almost cruelly vivid in his mind. You, standing in the kitchen in the morning light, your laugh filling the air as he teased you about something silly. The way you’d rest your head on his shoulder during quiet moments, your presence a comfort he never knew he needed until it was gone.
He would have been the one to carry you when life got heavy, to wipe away your tears and kiss your worries away. He would have known, deep in his soul, that he didn’t just love you—he belonged with you.
But this wasn’t another life. This wasn’t another universe. And in this one, he had made his choices, and you had made yours. The weight of that reality pressed heavily on his chest, a bitter ache he knew he’d carry for a long time, maybe forever.
As he stood under the same stars that had once seemed to shine so brightly for him, Jay let the tears fall freely, his heart whispering a silent prayer to a world that didn’t exist.
Maybe in another life, you would have been his, and he would have been yours. But in this one, all he could do was love you from afar, a love that would remain untouched by time but buried deep within his heart.
ahhh thanks for reading up till here everyone! let me know if you liked it! this fic actually hit very close to home while i was writing because i subconsciously inserted my own feelings towards jay in this LOL😞
"You should try Park Me Up, " Jake suggested, his Australian accent stretching the words.
"fuck what up?" you asked, your voice unintentionally louder in confusion.
Jake stifled a laugh. "dude, Park Me Up. It's a guitar shop that sells vinyls, too. Heard the selection's pretty dope. Apparently, the owner's nephew curates it." He chuckled, rolling his eyes when he realized what you'd misheard. Danielle, sitting to your right, let out a quiet laugh at your expense.
pairing - guitar shop worker! jay x female reader
w.c - 22.4k
content: y/n is a reserved individual, who moves to seattle for university, where she meets a silver haired boy working in a guitar shop while looking for vinyls. ( mentions of members from other groups, or in enha)
warnings! jay is very very indecisive, mentions of cheating, kissing, heavy heavy angst, kissing, mutual pinning, slow burn. (lmk if i missed out anything...)
a/n: hello everyone ! i finally published my first full length fic after forever lol... It's christmas already and it should be a jolly fic but... im a sucker for angst... i hope you guys like it ! Happy holidays lovelies! Also thank you to my offline friend who proofread this for me, and thank you grammerly for correcting my grammers LOL.
You never expected yourself to fall for Jay. You really didn't. You never intended to be so completely enamored by the boy who worked at his uncle's guitar shop—the boy who always showed up in an oversized white shirt and gray sweats, hair falling messily over his forehead, yet somehow looking effortlessly perfect. The boy with silver hair that shimmered under the dim store lights as he strummed chords on a guitar he probably didn't plan to buy. But here you were, hopelessly in love with a boy who had a girlfriend.
Moving to Seattle had been a decision more practical than emotional, but it still hurt. You stood by the window of your tiny apartment, staring out at the city as it buzzed with energy, even on a quiet Wednesday night. The view was breathtaking—glittering skyscrapers against the dark sky, streets glowing with endless streams of headlights and neon signs. Yet, despite the beauty, there was an ache inside you. You missed home, the warmth of your family, and the familiarity of your old life.
Your parents hadn’t made the choice any easier. Both renowned architects, they had high hopes that you would follow in their footsteps. Seattle was where they had both studied, fallen in love, and started building their careers. To them, sending you here felt like a full-circle moment, a chance for you to experience what they had cherished so deeply. To you, it felt like being uprooted.
“You need this,” your mother had said, her voice softer than usual as she helped pack your bags. “A new city, new challenges—it’ll be good for you. Just promise me you’ll explore. Don’t hide away in your room with your vinyls all day.”
You’d reluctantly agreed, not wanting to disappoint her.
A few weeks had passed since school started, and to your surprise, things weren’t as bad as you’d feared. Your decision to major in architecture felt natural, like a familiar rhythm you’d always known. Growing up with two architects as parents meant you had a solid foundation, and the workload—while demanding—was manageable.
But school wasn’t the part that scared you. It was the loneliness you dreaded most. Your mom’s parting words echoed in your mind as you forced yourself to step out of your comfort zone, accepting an invitation from a friendly classmate named Beomgyu to grab lunch. That one small decision changed everything.
Beomgyu quickly became one of your closest friends, and through him, you met Danielle and Ning Ning, two of the most vibrant people you’d ever known. They, in turn, introduced you to their wider circle—Jake, Jungwon, and Sunoo. Jake and Jungwon were Twitch streamers, a detail you found both amusing and fascinating.
“Jake’s not even good at the games he streams,” Jungwon teased one afternoon as you all sat around a table at a cozy ice cream shop downtown. “He keeps dying and getting pity donations from girls who think he’s cute.”
Jake let out a dramatic whine, lips jutting into a pout as he folded his arms. “That’s not true! I’m good at some games.”
Danielle snorted, pointing her spoon at him. “You literally called Fall Guys a ‘competitive battle royale.’”
Jake turned to you for backup, his eyes wide and pleading. “You believe me, right?”
You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound bubbling out of you before you could stop it. Moments like these felt warm and grounding, like you were finally finding a place for yourself in this unfamiliar city
"Did you see? Daniel Caesar's new album just dropped," Jake whispered, leaning closer to you in class. His eyes flicked toward the front of the lecture hall, where the professor was mid-sentence.
"Never Enough, right? Yeah, I saw," you replied, keeping your voice low to avoid getting caught. "I think I'm gonna hit up a store to buy the vinyl. I need it for my collection."
"You should try Park Me Up," Jake suggested, his Australian accent stretching the words.
"fuck what up?" you asked, your voice unintentionally louder in confusion.
Jake stifled a laugh. "dude, Park Me Up. It’s a guitar shop that sells vinyls, too. Heard the selection’s pretty dope. Apparently, the owner’s nephew curates it." He chuckled, rolling his eyes when he realized what you'd misheard. Danielle, sitting to your right, let out a quiet laugh at your expense.
"Oh, right. Got it," you mumbled, quickly typing the shop's name into Google. It was only fifteen minutes from campus—definitely worth checking out.
Later that afternoon, curiosity got the better of you. With your classes done for the day and a spare hour on your hands, you decided to make the trip to Park Me Up. Jake's recommendation had piqued your interest, and you figured it wouldn't hurt to check out the shop.
The small bell above the door jingled softly as you pushed it open, stepping into the cozy, slightly dim space. The scent of polished wood and aged vinyl filled the air, and rows of guitars lined the walls, their polished surfaces gleaming under the warm light. In the corner, a shelf was dedicated to records, a modest but eclectic collection that immediately drew your attention.
You were flipping through the vinyls, scanning the neatly labeled dividers, when a voice startled you.
“Looking for something specific?”
You glanced up to find a boy standing behind the counter, his silver hair catching the light in a way that made it impossible not to stare for a second too long. He was wearing a slightly oversized white shirt over his grey sweats, the casual look somehow amplifying his presence rather than diminishing it. The silver haired boy was already looking at you curiously, albeit an amused smile on his face.
“Uh, yeah,” you managed, your voice almost catching. “I was looking for Daniel Caesar’s Never Enough. Heard you guys might have it.”
He smiled faintly, the kind of smile that felt effortlessly genuine. “Good choice. We just got a shipment in. Let me grab it for you.”
You watched as he moved to the back, his stride unhurried but purposeful. When he returned, he held the vinyl in his hands like it was something sacred, carefully placing it on the counter between you.
“Here you go,” he said, his voice soft. “This one’s already been pretty popular.”
“Thanks,” You hesitated before asking, “So, do you curate the collection here?”
He blinked in surprise before nodding. “Yeah, I do. How’d you know?”
“Word of mouth,” you said, shrugging lightly. “A friend recommended the shop. Said the vinyl selection’s great because of you.”
His smile widened slightly, and there was something in his expression that made your stomach flip. “Glad to hear it. I try to make it as diverse as possible. Let me know if there’s something you’re looking for, and I’ll see what I can do.”
You opened your mouth to say something, but the boy beat you to it. “What genre of music do you listen to?” he asked, his tone casual but curious.
You hesitated, feeling a little self-conscious. Some of your friends always teased you for having the music taste of a middle-aged woman. “Um, I’m not sure if you’d know them, but... Oasis? Red Jumpsuit Apparatus, The 1975—and, you know, the more basic ones like Frank Ocean, Tyler, Kendrick…” Your voice trailed off, and you missed the way the boy’s smile grew wider with every name you mentioned, his eyes lighting up with excitement.
“Oasis? No way. That’s my favorite band,” the silver-haired boy blurted, his enthusiasm catching you off guard. “Usually, there aren’t many people our age who listen to them. My friends always call me an old soul because of my taste in music. But finally—finally—I don’t have to be an old soul alone!”
He leaned back, grinning from ear to ear. “Honestly, I think I've met my match. I listen to almost every artist you just named. You might even be better at curating playlists than I am,” he chuckled, the sunlight streaming through the window catching on his silver hair and making his honey-tanned skin seem to glow.
Your cheeks flushed slightly at his enthusiasm, the way his eyes lit up as if he’d just stumbled upon some rare treasure. You hadn’t expected this reaction, let alone from someone who looked like they belonged on the cover of a magazine instead of behind the counter of a record shop.
“You're just saying that,” you said with a shy laugh, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I'm not that great at curating. I just... listen to what feels right, you know?”
The boy shook his head, his smile unwavering.“No, I mean it. Oasis is a bold choice, especially for someone who looks…” He trailed off, suddenly catching himself.
Your brow arched slightly. "Looks what?”
He cleared his throat, his confidence faltering for just a moment. “Looks like they'd be more into pop or something.”
You rolled your eyes, but there was no bite in your response.“Yeah, well, don't judge a book by its cover. Or a person by their playlist.”
His laugh was soft, the kind that made your chest tighten unexpectedly. “Fair enough.”
The conversation settled into a comfortable rhythm, the initial awkwardness melting away.
“Okay, I have to ask,” Jay said suddenly, leaning against the counter with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Favorite Oasis song?”
You hesitated, pretending to think it over even though you already knew the answer. “Don’t Look Back in Anger. Classic.”
He nodded approvingly, his grin widening. “Respect. Though, Live Forever might just take the top spot for me.”
You tilted your head, a playful challenge in your tone. “Strong choice. But I think Champagne Supernova could give it a run for its money.”
Jay’s laughter filled the shop, warm and unrestrained. “You’re good. I might just have to hire you as my personal music consultant.”
You were about to respond when the door chimed again, signaling another customer. Jay turned slightly to greet them, but his feet remained planted, standing in front of you with that wide, easy smile. To him, it felt like looking into a mirror—like seeing himself, just in the opposite gender.
You wanted to speak, to ask for his name, but the customer broke the moment, calling for his assistance.
“i've, um, got to go. See you around? ” he said softly, giving you one last glance. A dimple appeared on his left cheek as he smiled, the kind of smile that lingered, just like the glint of his silver hair catching the light. For a fleeting moment, it felt as though the world slowed down.
“See you,” you whispered to yourself, knowing he couldn’t hear you anymore. You carefully placed the vinyl back where you found it, a small smile tugging at your lips—because you knew you’d be coming back.
The soft click of the door echoed behind you, and the quiet hum of the city greeted you as you stepped onto the sidewalk. The night air was crisp, brushing against your cheeks, and for some reason, you couldn’t wipe the small smile off your face.
You couldn’t stop thinking about him. About his silver hair, the excitement in his voice when you mentioned Oasis, and the way he had lingered—just a little longer than he needed to—before walking away.
As you walked, your thoughts kept drifting back to the shop. To him. It was silly, really. You barely knew him. He was just a boy in a guitar shop. But something about him tugged at you in a way you couldn’t quite explain, as though a song you’d forgotten had started playing in the background of your life, soft and familiar.
Meanwhile, inside the shop, Jay was still standing behind the counter, his head tilted slightly as he watched you through the large front window. The orange glow from the streetlights traced the outline of your figure as you disappeared down the street, and for reasons he couldn’t quite articulate, his chest tightened.
It wasn’t often that someone caught his attention like that. Sure, plenty of customers passed through the shop, and Jay, ever the charmer, knew how to win people over with a smile or a bit of small talk. But this felt different. The way you spoke, the way you looked at him—like you really heard him, like you understood. It was rare. And it left a mark.
The sound of the other customer clearing their throat broke him from his trance. He turned back, hastily fixing his expression into something neutral, professional, but the remnants of his smile were still there.
“Sorry, what was that?” he asked, trying to focus.
The customer repeated their request, but even as Jay worked, his mind stayed far away, replaying your words, your quiet demeanor, the way your face flushed when you saw him smile at you. It was such a small thing, but it had stuck with him—how you’d looked so startled, yet soft and genuine all at once, like no one had smiled at you that way in a long time.
He wasn’t quite sure why it mattered. Or why it kept tugging at the corners of his thoughts, refusing to let go.
Jay’s hands moved on autopilot as he rang up the customer’s purchase, his mind somewhere else entirely. He thought about the way your voice had softened when you spoke about the bands you loved, how your fingers brushed the edge of the vinyl as though it were something precious. And the way you whispered—so quietly he wasn’t even sure he’d heard it—“see you.”
You’d meant it, hadn’t you? That you’d come back?
Jay blinked back into focus as the customer grabbed their bag and left, muttering a “thanks” on their way out. He let out a breath, leaning back against the counter, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck. This was ridiculous. It wasn't like he hadn't met interesting people before.
But you weren't like the others.
You didn't try to impress him, didn't try to force conversation. You were just... yourself. Unapologetically quiet, honest, and deeply sincere in that brief moment. It felt like a melody he couldn’t place but one he already knew by heart.
He ran a hand through his silver hair, glancing out the shop window to the darkened street. You were long gone now, but the image of you—standing there in the soft glow of the shop’s lights, lips quirking into that small, shy smile—lingered in his mind.
“Get it together, Jay,” he muttered to himself. But the truth was, he already knew he’d be watching for you. Waiting for that door to chime again.
And when it did, he wasn’t sure what would happen—he just knew he wanted to find out.
The soft jingle of the bell above the door announced your arrival. You stepped into the shop, your eyes darting instinctively toward the counter—only to find it empty.
He must not be working today, you thought, a tinge of disappointment settling in. Still, the familiar scent of old vinyl records mixed with the faint tang of guitar polish surrounded you, offering its usual comfort.
Then you heard it. Soft, deliberate strums of a guitar, playing the chords to “Beside You” by Keshi—one of your favorite songs. Curiosity tugged at you, and you ventured deeper into the store, following the sound.
The shop was quieter today. A few customers lounged in the listening area, sipping coffee or flipping through newspapers. As you rounded a shelf, your eyes landed on him.
The silver-haired boy sat perched on a wooden stool, a black-and-white guitar cradled in his lap—a Fender Stratocaster, you’d later learn, named Veronica.
You stood there, captivated. Every movement—the way his fingers glided along the strings, the way the melody hummed through the shop, the way his expression softened when he played—held you still. An unspoken feeling stirred inside you, unfamiliar and warm, as you watched him.
The soft strums of the guitar reverberated through the small shop, blending seamlessly with the faint crackling of a vinyl playing somewhere in the background. Your heart thudded softly against your chest as you watched him, completely lost in his own world—eyes low, brows furrowed in concentration, the slightest pout on his lips.
It wasn't fair. How could someone look so effortlessly perfect in such a simple moment? The silver strands of his hair fell over his forehead, catching the warm afternoon light filtering in through the shop’s windows. The oversized white shirt he wore draped lazily over his frame, the sleeves pushed up just enough to reveal his forearms as his fingers moved gracefully over the frets.
And the song—your song.
It wasn’t just the way he played it that captivated you, but the feeling in every note. It was as if he wasn't just strumming chords; he was speaking in a language that only the two of you understood.
You didn't want to interrupt. You didn't want to break the spell. So you stayed there, hovering silently between the shelves of vinyls, letting yourself get lost in the way he swayed slightly with the rhythm, the way his foot tapped softly against the floor.
Then, the song ended with a final, lingering note. The hum of the strings faded into silence, leaving the air thick and still. For a moment, he stayed there, letting his hands rest on the guitar strings, eyes still downcast.
And then he looked up.
The sudden shift in his gaze nearly made you flinch, your breath catching in your throat. His eyes—soft brown, filled with a quiet warmth—locked onto yours, and for a second, neither of you spoke. His expression flickered from surprise to something unreadable before that familiar smile crept onto his face.
“You came back.” His voice was soft, laced with both surprise and something else—something you couldn't quite place.
You nodded, a little breathless as you stepped forward. “I—I didn't mean to interrupt. You were playing Beside You. It's… it's one of my favorites.”
His smile widened just a touch, dimples peeking through. “Yeah? Mine too. Guess we really do have the same taste.”
He carefully set the guitar down on its stand—Veronica, you remembered—and turned toward you, leaning back against the counter. “What brings you in today? Another vinyl to add to the collection?”
You shrugged, trying to play it cool despite the nervous fluttering in your chest. “Something like that. I actually just—” you hesitated, unsure how to finish the sentence. “—wanted to see what was new.”
Jay raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You sure? Or did you come back to listen to me butcher more songs?”
You laughed softly, shaking your head. “I didn't know you could play the guitar, but You’re too good to butcher anything.”
His smile faltered just slightly, as if caught off guard by your words, but he recovered quickly, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, I've got a long way to go, but thanks. I’ve picked up guitar since i was a 5, it's quite normal if your uncle owns a guitar shop. "His voice was quieter now, a bit more vulnerable.
There was a beat of silence, but it didn’t feel awkward. It was comfortable, like the calm right before a storm, where something hung unsaid between the two of you.
“Want me to play something else?” he asked, suddenly breaking the stillness.
You blinked, startled. “For me?”
“Yeah, you're already here, so why not? Pick a song,” he chuckled, settling back down onto the stool with an easy smile.
You paused, considering. “What about… Oasis?‘Wonderwall’ ?”
His head shot up, eyes lighting up like a kid at Christmas. “You're seriously making my day right now.”
The shop seemed to fade away, the quiet hum of the world outside disappearing into the soft, unpolished notes of the guitar. It was just you, the boy with silver hair.
I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now.
Your breath hitched when his gaze met yours. It wasn’t just a fleeting glance this time. It lingered—his brown eyes holding yours with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. His lips curled into the faintest smile, as if he’d felt the weight of the words, too, as if the song were meant for this moment.
For you.
You gripped the edge of the shelf behind you, knuckles turning pale as you tried to steady yourself. The warmth flooding your chest, the flutter in your stomach—you’d never felt this before. Not like this. It wasn’t some grand moment in a romantic movie, but it felt just as significant. Like something you weren’t supposed to feel but couldn’t resist.
You wondered, then, if he felt it too.
The way his eyes softened every time he looked at you. The way he smiled like he was holding onto a secret you didn’t yet know. The way he played this song, one so simple yet so heavy, as if the lyrics were carving a space just for the two of you.
Your heart whispered things you weren’t ready to say out loud. Does he see me the way I see him? Does he feel this, too?
It felt like magic, the kind of moment that you’d replay in your head on sleepless nights, the kind of moment you’d tuck away carefully, afraid it might slip through your fingers.
The strumming grew softer as he reached the final verses, his fingers deftly strumming the last chords. But even as the sound faded into stillness, the look he gave you lingered, as though he, too, had felt something shift.
The silence between you was heavier now, filled with words neither of you dared to speak.
“ that was… really good,” you said softly, breaking the silence. Your voice came out quieter than you’d intended, almost trembling.
The boy’s smile widened, though his expression held something else—something deeper, more uncertain. He set the guitar down gently, leaning back slightly on the stool as his eyes stayed on you. “Thanks. I haven't played that one in a while.”
“Well, it didn't sound like it,” you replied, forcing a small laugh to break the tension that seemed to have wrapped itself around you both.
He tilted his head, his silver hair falling into his eyes before he brushed it away. “You really love this song, huh?”
You nodded, your fingers nervously playing with the hem of your sleeve. “Yeah. It's… special. Makes you feel things, you know?”
His gaze softened again, and for a moment, you thought he was going to say something—something important, something you weren't sure you were ready to hear. But instead, he smiled softly, a little wistfully.
“Yeah. I get that.”
And just like that, the moment passed, leaving you teetering on the edge of something unknown.
You both fell into a quiet that wasn't uncomfortable, but it wasn’t easy either. It was the kind of quiet where feelings settled heavy in the air, unspoken but undeniable. You wondered if he could hear how fast your heart was beating or if he could see the questions swirling in your mind.
“I just realized I don't even know your name. Mind gracing my ears with it?” the boy teased, his dimple deepening as he broke into a warm laugh.
He only has a dimple on the left side of his cheek, you thought to yourself, unable to ignore how effortlessly charming it made him look.
Your face flushed at his words, and you laughed softly, trying to play it cool. “It's Y/N.”
“Y/N,” he repeated, as if testing how it sounded. His grin widened. “Interesting name. I'm just plain old Jay. Or—if you're feeling formal—you can call me Jongseong. Most people just stick with Jay, though.”
He leaned casually against one of the shelves that displayed vinyls, crossing his arms as he watched you, the playful glint in his eyes never fading.
“Jay suits you,” you said quietly, the name lingering on your tongue like it belonged there. You glanced down at the vinyls displayed in front of you, fingers brushing absentmindedly over the edges, though your attention was nowhere near the records. It was on him—the way his smile tugged slightly higher on one side, the way his silver hair framed his face like it was meant to catch the light perfectly.
“Does it?” Jay mused, his tone teasing but gentle. “I always thought it was kind of boring. Plain. But I guess I’ll take your word for it.”
You laughed softly, shaking your head. “It’s not plain. It's…” You hesitated, meeting his gaze. “It's fitting.”
He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Fitting, huh? What’s that supposed to mean?”
You bit your lip, feeling the heat creeping up your face again. Why did he have to look at you like that—like you were the only person in the room? “I just mean… you don’t seem like a ‘Jongseong.’ You seem like a ‘Jay.’ Simple. Warm.”
Your voice trailed off as you realized what you’d said, your heart pounding in your chest. Warm? Did you really just say that out loud?
Jay’s dimple appeared again as he smiled, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. “Warm, huh?” He shifted his weight, leaning more comfortably against the shelf, and for a split second, it looked like he was trying to hide how flustered he was. “You’ve got a way with words, y/n.”
You looked away quickly, suddenly fascinated with the cover of a vinyl on the shelf. “I’m just being honest,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.
For a moment, the two of you fell into a comfortable silence, the tension settling like a quiet hum in the air between you. It wasn’t heavy, but it wasn’t light either—it was something else. Something unspoken.
Jay tilted his head, breaking the silence first. “So, y/n… what’s your story? You seem like someone who has one.”
You blinked, caught off guard by the question. “My story?”
“Yeah,” he said with a small shrug, his tone softer now. “Everyone’s got one. You don’t seem like the kind of person who just ends up here by accident.”
You exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of his question. “I… moved here for school,” you said, choosing your words carefully. “Architecture. My parents are both in the field, so it kind of feels like… I don’t know, like a path I’m supposed to follow.”
Jay’s expression softened, his head nodding slightly as if he understood more than you were saying. “That’s a lot to carry, huh?”
You looked up at him, startled by how easily he’d seen through you. “Yeah,” you admitted, your voice quiet. “Sometimes.”
There was no pity in his gaze, only understanding—like he’d felt the weight of expectation before too. “Well,” he said after a moment, his tone lighter, “for what it’s worth, it sounds like you’re doing fine. You’ve got good taste in music, so you can’t be that lost.”
You laughed at his attempt to lighten the mood, grateful for the small reprieve. “That’s your bar for success? Good taste in music?”
“Absolutely,” Jay replied, grinning. “It says a lot about a person.”
“And what does my music taste say about me?” you challenged, tilting your head slightly.
Jay’s smile faltered for just a moment, something unreadable flashing in his eyes before he answered. “It says you’ve got depth. You feel things. You appreciate what’s real.”
His words struck something deep in you, leaving you momentarily speechless. How could someone you’d barely met see you so clearly?
Jay cleared his throat, as if realizing he’d said too much. “Anyway,” he said, pushing himself off the shelf, his voice returning to its usual playful tone, “you’ll have to come back so I can keep quizzing you on music. I can’t let you win the ‘good taste’ trophy just yet.”
You smiled, your heart fluttering. “I’ll think about it.”
“You better,” he teased, his dimple reappearing. “Veronica and I will be waiting.”
“Veronica?”
He gestured toward the guitar leaning against the stool where he’d been playing earlier. “She’s temperamental, but she’s good to me.”
You laughed, shaking your head. “You named your guitar?”
“Of course I did,” Jay said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “She deserves it.”
You smiled as you watched him, your heart inexplicably light despite the unfamiliar feelings tugging at you. “Alright, Jay. I’ll be back to check in on you… and Veronica.”
“Looking forward to it,” he replied, his voice softening.
As you walked out of the shop, the bell chiming softly above you, you couldn’t help but glance back through the window. Jay was still standing there, watching you leave, a small smile resting on face.
You hadn’t gotten far when a familiar voice called out to you. It wasn’t hard to recognize—Jay.
Turning back in confusion, you spotted him jogging toward you, something tucked under his arm. As he got closer, you realized what it was: the vinyl you’d meant to buy on your first visit. Never Enough was nestled carefully against his chest, the moonlight catching his silver hair and making it glow like a halo.
Stopping in front of you, slightly out of breath, Jay held up the record and offered it to you.
“This is… for you,” he said, panting softly as he caught his breath. “Consider it a ‘nice to meet you’ gift.”
Your mouth fell open in shock, completely caught off guard. You stared at the vinyl, knowing you hadn’t paid for it. “I can’t,” you stammered, shaking your head and waving your hands frantically. “It’s too expensive, and… won’t your uncle beat you up for this?”
Even as you protested, the thought of his kindness sent a quiet warmth spreading through you.
That’s when it struck you how tall Jay really was. Looking straight ahead, you only met his shoulder. He leaned down, a teasing grin tugging at his lips as he whispered, “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
As quickly as he leaned in, he straightened back up, his playful expression unwavering. “Besides,” he exclaimed louder, puffing his chest out for effect, “I’m his nephew. What’s he gonna do? Fire his best employee and the guy with the best taste in the shop?”
He grinned, brushing a few stray strands of silver hair away from his face, the confidence in his voice making you laugh despite yourself.
You stared at him, stunned and unable to form a coherent response. The vinyl now resting in his hands, being held out to you like some kind of offering. It didn’t help that the teasing grin on his face had you feeling lightheaded, your heart hammering wildly in your chest.
“I really can’t take this,” you said again, though your voice wavered, betraying how much you wanted to accept it. “It’s too much.”
Jay tilted his head, the grin softening into something gentler, more sincere. “Y/n, it’s just a record,” he said quietly, though there was something in the way he said your name that made your heart stutter. “It’s not about what it costs. I just… I thought you’d like it.”
You met his gaze then, and the sincerity you found there nearly knocked the air out of your lungs. He meant it. There was no teasing now, no charm for the sake of charm. Just Jay—simple, warm, and standing in front of you with an earnestness that made your walls crumble just a little more.
Your lips parted, searching for something—anything—to say, but all you managed was, “Thank you.” The words were small, almost insignificant compared to the way your chest felt full and heavy all at once. “I really mean it.”
Jay’s grin returned, softer this time, and he placed the vinyl carefully in your hands. “Good,” he said, his voice quiet as if this moment was fragile. “Then it’s settled.”
You stared down at the vinyl, tracing the edge of it with your thumb as you tried to process the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. He didn’t have to do this for you. He barely even knew you. And yet, here he was, going out of his way to make sure you left with a smile.
“You’re really something, Jay,” you muttered, shaking your head in disbelief, though a smile tugged at the corners of your lips.
“And you’re really stubborn,” he shot back playfully, his dimple making another appearance as he chuckled. “But I guess we balance each other out.”
You rolled your eyes, clutching the vinyl closer to your chest as you tried to ignore the fluttering in your stomach. “You’re lucky you’re funny.”
“Lucky, huh?” he teased, tilting his head to the side as he looked at you. “I’ll take it.”
There was a brief pause, a moment suspended in time where neither of you spoke. The afternoon sun cast long shadows on the pavement, the light softening everything around you. For a second, you let yourself take in the sight of him—the way his silver hair fell just slightly over his eyes, the way his smile lingered even when he wasn’t speaking.
The silence between you wasn’t awkward, though it brimmed with something new. Something unsaid. You clutched the vinyl close to your chest, a smile tugging at your lips as you watched Jay recover his usual composure.
“Well,” you said finally, breaking the silence as you tried to steady your heartbeat. “I should get going before I take up your whole day.”
Jay smirked, his hands sliding back into the pockets of his grey sweats. “You say that like it’d be a bad thing.”
“Well,” he said after a beat, copying your words,“You better come back soon, okay? Veronica and I have more songs to play for you.”
You laughed, the sound light and genuine. “You really can’t go two minutes without mentioning Veronica, huh?”
“She’s a big part of my life,” Jay replied with mock seriousness, though the teasing sparkle in his eyes gave him away. “But don’t worry—I’ve got room for other important things too.”
Your heart stumbled over itself at his words, and you quickly looked away, pretending to be interested in the vinyl again. “I’ll come back,” you promised, your voice soft. “I’m starting to think this place might be my new favorite spot.”
Jay’s smile widened, a dimple peeking through on his left cheek. “Good. I’ll hold you to that.”
As he stepped back toward the shop, you watched him go, his silver hair catching the light one last time before he disappeared through the door. You stood there for a moment longer, clutching the record against your chest as a smile broke across your face.
You hadn’t expected to meet someone like him. Someone who made you feel seen without even trying. Someone who handed you a vinyl you’d wanted as though it were the easiest thing in the world.
Back inside the shop, Jay stood by the window, watching you disappear down the street with the vinyl tucked securely in your arms. His smile lingered, but there was a new weight settling in his chest—something unfamiliar, something he couldn’t quite name.
“She’s cool,” he murmured to himself, running a hand through his hair.
And as much as he tried to shake it, the image of your smile stayed with him, refusing to leave.
You found yourself visiting the record shop more often, stopping by every few days after classes, just to say hi to Jay. It always ended with you staying until the store closed, lost in conversation with him.
He greeted you with a warm smile every time, like he was anticipating your arrival. Time flew by when you were having fun. You’d pop in during the afternoon and leave only when the crickets began singing. It became a routine so familiar that even some customers started mistaking you for an employee.
Talking to Jay was easy. He seemed to understand how you felt, sharing his own experiences that mirrored yours. The more you talked, the more Jay couldn’t help but notice the way your eyes would light up when you found that you shared the same thoughts or tastes. It was like two puzzle pieces fitting perfectly together. Jay was a mirror image of you—until the conversation turned to ice cream.
“Mint chocolate tastes like toothpaste,” Jay deadpanned, making you laugh.
“Does not. That’s like saying matcha tastes like grass,” you shot back, rolling your eyes playfully.
“No, it doesn’t! I’d rather eat grass than have toothpaste for dessert,” he replied, his tone teasing, a grin tugging at his lips.
Your jaw dropped in exaggerated disbelief as you crossed your arms over your chest. “Oh, so now you’re a grass-eating expert? Should I grab you a handful from outside?”
Jay let out a laugh, the sound full and genuine, echoing through the quiet shop. “Hey, don’t twist my words! All I’m saying is, grass might be the superior option here.”
“You’re impossible.” You shook your head, though you couldn’t stop the grin tugging at your lips. It was hard to stay fake-mad at him when he looked so effortlessly charming, his silver hair falling into his eyes as he leaned back casually against the counter.
“Impossible but right,” he shot back, that dimple on his left cheek peeking out as he smirked at you. “You’re really defending mint chocolate like your life depends on it, huh?”
“Because it’s amazing and you have no taste,” you retorted, pretending to look insulted. “I feel bad for you. You’ll never know true joy.”
Jay clutched at his heart dramatically, wincing as if you’d just stabbed him. “That hurt, y/n. Truly. I think I need Veronica to comfort me now.”
You couldn’t hold back a laugh as you watched him make his way to the stool where his guitar sat. He grabbed her gently—like she was something fragile—before slinging her across his lap. “Fine, go cry to your guitar,” you teased. “She probably agrees with me anyway.”
“Oh, she definitely doesn’t,” Jay argued, already strumming a playful tune. “Veronica has class.”
You rolled your eyes, but your chest felt light, warmth spreading through you. Moments like these—full of laughter, teasing, and easy conversation—made you forget about everything else. Your classes, your homesickness, the weight of your parents’ expectations… none of it mattered when you were here, talking to Jay. It scared you how much you looked forward to these moments.
Unbeknownst to you, Jay felt the same way. The first few times you visited, he thought it was just a coincidence—that you were probably there for the records. But now… now, he knew better. Every time the bell above the door chimed, his head would snap up, hoping it was you.
You had become his favorite part of the day.
As he played soft, absent-minded chords on Veronica, his eyes flickered toward you. You were leaning against the counter, flipping through a box of vinyls, your expression relaxed and content. For a moment, Jay just watched you, his fingers faltering slightly on the strings.
“Hey, y/n,” he called out, drawing your attention.
You looked up, curious. “Yeah?”
He hesitated for a second, the words on the tip of his tongue. Something about how much he appreciated you coming here, how he felt like the days were brighter when you were around. But instead, he defaulted to teasing, a grin tugging at his lips.
“Promise me something.”
“What?” you asked, raising a brow.
“When I’m right about mint chocolate being trash, you’ll admit it publicly. Maybe we’ll record it and everything. Sound fair?”
You groaned, tossing your head back. “You’re impossible. Truly.”
He chuckled softly, the sound mixing with the hum of his guitar. “But I’m right.”
And for a while, you both sat in that moment—filled with music, banter, and the quiet comfort of knowing you weren’t alone.
Neither of you dared to admit it, but this routine you’d fallen into? It felt dangerously close to something more. But you couldnt shake that uneasy feeling when you looked at jay. He seemed like he was conflicted between telling you something.
As you perched on the familiar stool, your gaze drifted to Jay, who stood at the counter wrapping up a vinyl for a customer. His small, focused smile tugged at something deep inside you. The soft melody of Mac Ayres' Easy played in the background, and you found yourself humming along, lost in the rhythm.
You were so engrossed in the music and your thoughts that you didn’t notice Jay walking toward you until he was standing right in front of you. Startled, you jumped, nearly toppling off the stool.
Jay’s reflexes were quick. His hand shot out to grab your arm, the other steadying you by your waist. “Careful there. Someone must be deep in their feels, huh?” he teased with a grin, his laugh soft and warm.
The contact sent a jolt through you, like a spark lighting your nerves. His touch was firm but gentle, his proximity overwhelming. The scent of his cologne—a mix of cedar and wood—wrapped around you, intoxicating and grounding all at once. Your face burned as you tilted your head to meet his gaze.
“Yeah, it’s hard not to when the curator has such good taste,” you whispered, your voice quiet in the closeness between you. You felt yourself soften under his touch, curious to see how he’d respond.
Jay’s heart stuttered as he looked down at you. Your words carried more weight than they seemed, and something about the way you said them made his chest tighten. He cleared his throat, the heat rising to his cheeks as he tried to keep his composure. His hands lingered a fraction longer than necessary before he let go, his reluctance almost palpable.
“Well,” he murmured, his voice low, “you’re right, considering you picked this one with me.” His eyes held yours, glinting with something unspoken—something you dared to hope might be fondness.
You felt your heart flutter at his words, the shared memory softening the ache you’d tried so hard to bury. For a moment, it was just you and Jay, suspended in the quiet hum of the record shop, with the melody weaving around you like a thread tying you together.
“I know how to play this on the guitar. Wanna listen?” Jay asked, already moving toward Veronica without waiting for your reply.
You nodded, your eyes following his every movement. The way his forearm flexed as he picked up the guitar and adjusted it in his lap, his fingers effortlessly finding the chords—it was mesmerizing. The first familiar notes of Easy filled the shop, his playing smooth and precise, as if the guitar had been made just for him.
Halfway through the song, you couldn’t hold back your curiosity any longer. “Why haven’t I seen anyone else play this guitar?” you asked, breaking the gentle spell of the melody. “I mean, I know the rest of the guitars are free for trial and use, but no one ever touches Veronica.”
Jay chuckled softly, his fingers continuing to dance over the strings. The sound was warm and unhurried, perfectly complementing his low, quiet response. “Let’s just say I don’t like other people touching what’s mine.”
The possessiveness in his tone caught you off guard, sending a shiver down your spine. His words hung in the air, deliberate and weighted with something unspoken. When he tilted his head to look at you, his dark eyes lingering, you couldn’t help but wonder—did he mean the guitar, or was there more to his statement?
Jay's words hung in the air, the weight of them sending a spark of electricity through you. You blinked, momentarily stunned, unsure how to respond. His fingers never faltered on the strings, the melody of the song weaving around the quiet tension that had settled between you.
"Yours?" you repeated, your voice soft but questioning.
Jay smirked faintly, his eyes still on you, an unreadable emotion swirling in their depths. "Veronica," he clarified, though the slight upturn of his lips hinted that he knew exactly what his words had done. "She’s special to me. I guess I’m a little protective."
You nodded slowly, trying to ignore the way your heart raced in your chest. "I get it," you murmured. "She’s beautiful. Sounds even better when you play her."
Jay’s smirk softened into a genuine smile, his fingers continuing to strum as he looked back down at the guitar. "Thanks. But I think she just likes the company," he said, his tone light, though there was something unspoken beneath his words.
The melody shifted, and he began playing something softer, more intimate. You watched him, mesmerized by the way his hands moved effortlessly across the strings, the music flowing from him like a second language.
"You know," he began, his voice low, "there’s something about playing for someone who actually listens. Makes it... feel different." He glanced up at you, his gaze steady and vulnerable. "You always listen."
Your breath hitched, and you felt your cheeks heat up. "Of course I listen," you replied quietly. "You’re... talented. And music—it says a lot about a person. About what they feel, even when they don’t say it."
Jay’s fingers stilled for a moment, and he looked at you as if seeing you in a new light. "That’s true," he said softly. "Music has a way of saying things words can’t."
For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence filled only by the faint hum of the shop’s ambiance and the distant buzz of conversation. Jay’s gaze lingered on you, as if he were trying to decipher a melody only he could hear.
Then, with a soft chuckle, he resumed playing. "Guess I’ll have to keep playing for you, then," he said, his tone playful but his eyes betraying a hint of something deeper.
You smiled, your heart swelling despite yourself. "Guess you will," you whispered, wondering if Jay realized just how much his music—and his presence—meant to you.
That day, you and Jay exchanged numbers, texting each other occasionally to share songs from different artists. Things were going surprisingly well—so well that it stirred an uneasy feeling in your chest. How is this going so smoothly?
There was never a shortage of topics to talk about with Jay. One evening, you were in the shop again. Jay sat on the stool, absentmindedly strumming chords on Veronica, while you animatedly recounted your two-day camping trip to snag Bailey Zimmerman’s Religiously record.
Jay listened attentively, his warm eyes fixed on you, and that damn smile—the one that made your heart race every single time—resting on his face.
“You should come see my record collection sometime,” you said, your words bubbling with excitement. “It’ll blow your mind. I’ll even let you borrow some if you’re nice enough.”
Jay chuckled softly, his voice dropping slightly. “Yeah? Haven’t I been nice enough to you already?”
The air shifted. His words carried more weight than his playful tone suggested.
“Yeah, you’re really nice to me,” you mumbled, suddenly feeling self-conscious as you looked down at your shoes, your cheeks growing warm.
Jay leaned forward slightly, his voice softer now. “You know what? I’d love to—”
The chime of the shop’s door interrupted him. Startled, you turned to see who it was, only to meet the gaze of a striking blonde woman standing in the doorway.
“Seongie, are you done packing up?” she called cheerfully as she stepped inside.
She wore a denim dress, her blonde hair cascading down her back, paired with knee-high boots. There was an undeniable air of elegance about her—a confidence and beauty that made your stomach churn.
Seongie? The name echoed in your head. You’d never heard anyone call him that. Who is she?
You glanced back at Jay, your eyes wide with confusion. But he was already looking at her, his face lighting up with an expression you’d never seen before—soft, adoring, and unreserved.
“Hey, pretty,” Jay greeted, setting Veronica down and standing up to embrace her.
Your heart dropped into your stomach as you watched them. The warmth of the shop suddenly felt suffocating.
When they finally pulled apart, Jay turned to you, though his gaze never really left her. “Y/N, meet my girlfriend, Giselle. Giselle, this is Y/N.”
Girlfriend? The word hit you like a punch to the chest. Your mind spiraled, replaying every interaction with him, every shared moment. Of course, he had a girlfriend. How could someone like him not have a girlfriend?
“Hi, Y/N. Nice to meet you,” Giselle said politely, though her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. She studied you, her gaze curious, as if trying to figure out your connection to Jay.
You forced a smile, willing your voice to sound steady. “Hi. Nice to meet you, too.” But the strain in your tone betrayed you, and you cringed inwardly at how obvious it sounded.
Giselle’s attention shifted back to Jay, who began explaining how the two of you met. Halfway through his story, you blurted out, “I should go. It was really nice to meet you, Giselle. I can see why Jay would fall for you.”
You smiled, but the sadness in your eyes was unmistakable. If Giselle noticed, she didn’t show it, happily bidding you goodbye as she rested her head on Jay’s shoulder.
But Jay noticed. He saw the way your usual spark had dimmed, the way your gaze flickered with hurt when it shifted from him to Giselle. A pang of guilt tugged at his chest, but he quickly pushed it aside, chalking it up to excitement at seeing his girlfriend.
“Y/N—wait,” Jay called out as he watched you gather your things, already halfway to the door.
“Bye, Jay,” you whispered, your voice soft but resolute.
Jay frowned, the ache in his chest growing as he watched you leave. There was no see you tomorrow or see you again soon—just bye.
He exhaled deeply, his chest tightening as he stared at the closed door, your figure growing smaller in the distance.
The shop felt colder after you left, the faint jingle of the door chime lingering in the air. Jay’s eyes stayed fixed on the spot where you’d stood moments before, his jaw tightening slightly. He barely registered Giselle’s hand sliding into his, her cheerful voice breaking through the sudden heaviness in his chest.
“Who is she?” Giselle asked, her tone light, but the underlying curiosity was unmistakable.
Jay blinked, forcing himself to refocus. “She’s a regular,” he said casually, rubbing the back of his neck. “She’s really into music, so we hit it off talking about records.”
Giselle raised an eyebrow, her perfectly manicured nails tapping against the counter. “You seem close,” she said, her words measured. “She looked… comfortable here.”
Jay hesitated, sensing where this was headed. “She’s just a friend,” he said quickly, though the words felt strangely hollow as they left his mouth.
Giselle didn’t reply immediately, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly as if she were trying to read between the lines. “Hmm. A friend, huh?” She let the word hang in the air before shrugging, a smile spreading across her lips. “Well, as long as that’s all she is.”
But Jay felt the weight of her gaze, even as she moved to pick up a vinyl from the shelf. For a moment, he considered telling her more—explaining the connection you two had, how effortless it felt—but something stopped him. Maybe it was the way Giselle leaned into him, her confidence unwavering, or maybe it was the faint trace of guilt bubbling in his chest.
As they left the shop together, Giselle chatting animatedly about her plans for the evening, Jay found his thoughts drifting back to you. He replayed the look on your face when he introduced Giselle—the flicker of pain you tried so hard to mask. It had been subtle, but it was there, and it gnawed at him.
You, on the other hand, were trying to pull yourself together as you walked briskly down the dimly lit street. The ache in your chest was sharp, but you scolded yourself for feeling it. How could you have let yourself get so carried away?
Of course, Jay had a girlfriend—someone stunning, confident, and poised, someone who seemed perfect for him. What had you been thinking? That you, with your hesitant smiles and awkward jokes, could be someone special to him?
Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and for a moment, you thought it might be Jay. But it wasn’t—it was a message from Sunghoon, your classmate about an upcoming project. Letting out a shaky breath, you tucked your phone away and kept walking, refusing to let yourself look back toward the shop.
Later that night, Jay sat on the edge of his bed, his phone in his hand. Giselle had fallen asleep beside him, her even breathing filling the quiet room. He stared at the screen, debating whether to text you.
A part of him knew he shouldn’t. He had no reason to—no justification for reaching out beyond the nagging feeling in his chest that he couldn’t shake. But as his thumb hovered over your name in his contacts, he stopped himself.
Instead, he locked his phone and leaned back, staring up at the ceiling. Giselle shifted slightly beside him, murmuring something in her sleep, and he turned his head to look at her. She was beautiful, kind, and everything he thought he wanted.
So why couldn’t he stop thinking about the way your voice had trembled when you said goodbye?
And why, when he closed his eyes, was it your face that lingered in his mind?
It had been a month since you stopped visiting Jay at the record shop. Neither of you had reached out—no texts, no calls, no accidental run-ins. On the surface, everything seemed normal. You fell back into your routine: hanging out with your friends, spinning the same familiar vinyl records, letting music fill the void. But deep down, you knew it wasn’t the same.
How could it be, when your thoughts kept drifting back to him? The silver-haired boy with warm, expressive eyes. The boy whose dimple only appeared on his left cheek when he smiled. The boy with that small, barely noticeable mole between his brows, leaning slightly to the left.
You couldn't forget him, no matter how hard you tried.
Many nights, your thumb hovered over his contact, debating whether to message him. Maybe you could send a song—something by Mac Miller, perhaps—and pretend it didn’t mean anything. But each time, you stopped yourself.
He had Giselle. He was happy with her. And who were you to ruin that?
Sighing, you locked your phone and let it fall onto your bed, as the second verse of Daniel Caesar’s Valentina played softly in the background. The lyrics seemed to mock your longing, your hesitation, your inability to move on.
Across town, Jay was struggling with his own thoughts.
Every shift at the shop felt emptier without you. Every time the door chimed, his head snapped up, hoping—praying—to see the girl with the mole on her neck, the one that matched his birthmark, just on the opposite side.
You.
The girl who had the same music taste as him. The girl who loved mint chocolate despite his protests.
Jay knew it was wrong—so wrong—to be thinking of you while Giselle stood by his side. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop.
He remembered the way your eyes lit up when he handed you that vinyl, the soft smile you gave him as you watched him play the guitar. Those moments played on a loop in his mind, haunting him with what could’ve been.
His shoulders slumped every time the door opened, only to reveal someone else. You were nowhere to be found. And the shop—once his sanctuary—felt hollow without you there.
It was strange, this emptiness that had taken root in his chest. You weren’t just a customer or a casual friend. You had seen him. The real him. Not the charming, silver-haired boy everyone else knew, but the boy who could talk for hours about Oasis, who played guitar on quiet afternoons, who laughed at stupid arguments about ice cream flavors.
You had understood him in a way that no one else did—not even Giselle.
And now, you were gone.
Days turned into weeks, and Jay started to believe he’d never see you again. Maybe you hated him. Maybe you were angry that he hadn’t told you about Giselle sooner.
Or maybe he had imagined the connection altogether.
But the memory of the sadness in your eyes that day—your voice strained when you said goodbye—stuck with him. It made him wonder. Did you like me?
The thought filled him with equal parts hope and guilt.
Jay sighed, dragging a hand through his silver hair as he stared out the shop window. The world outside seemed as distant as the one he shared with you, the one that had slipped away before he even realized how much it mattered.
He wanted to see you again.
But did you feel the same?
The air in the record shop felt heavier these days. Jay had tried to distract himself, pouring his energy into curating the shelves, perfecting his playlists, and helping customers find hidden gems. But none of it filled the quiet void you’d left behind.
One evening, as the shop neared closing, Jay sat on the wooden stool where he used to play Veronica for you. He strummed absentmindedly, his fingers faltering on the chords. “Beside You” by Keshi came to mind, and he played the opening notes, but the melody felt hollow without you there to listen.
“Why does it feel like I lost something I never even had?” he muttered to himself, letting his hands fall into his lap.
You thought you’d have to get over Jay in your own time, quietly and painfully. But apparently, your friends had other plans.
“Y/N, we’re going to Park Me Up,” Jake announced after class, his voice brimming with excitement as you zipped up your bag.
You froze for a moment, trying to think of an excuse. “Oh, I, uh… I need to go somewhere. To buy cupcakes,” you blurted out, wincing at how unconvincing it sounded even to you.
Jake gave you a deadpan look before his lips curved into a playful pout, his puppy-dog eyes locking onto yours.
“Aw, come on, Y/N! Ning Ning needs our help picking out a gift for Beomgyu. His bandmates decided on a guitar for his birthday, and she’s clueless. It’ll be fun! Don’t be a party pooper,” he said, clasping your hand for dramatic effect.
Before you could protest further, Ning Ning and Sunoo appeared out of nowhere, already hyped about the plan. They didn’t even give you a chance to escape—Jake grabbed one arm, Sunoo grabbed the other, and Ning Ning cheerfully led the way.
“Guys, I really don’t think I should—”
“Too late, Y/N!” Ning Ning sang, ignoring your protests.
You sighed in defeat, letting them drag you toward the destination. Park Me Up wasn’t just any guitar shop—it was Jay’s guitar shop.
The thought sent a wave of dread through you.
The shop was just as you remembered it: cozy, filled with the scent of polished wood and vinyl records. The familiar bell jingled as the four of you stepped inside.
You scanned the counter immediately, your heart pounding, but Jay wasn’t there. Instead, his uncle, Peter, stood behind the register, greeting your group with a warm smile.
“Welcome in, folks! Let me know if you need any help. Oh, hey, Y/N, haven’t seen you around lately. Jay’s been chewing my ear off asking if you’ve stopped by. Pretty sure his neck must be sore from how much he cranes it looking for you,” Peter teased.
Jay? He’s been looking for me? Why? A flush crept up your cheeks, your heart racing even faster at the thought of Jay being nearby.
Your friends glanced at you in confusion as you hovered awkwardly near the entrance, trying to stay out of sight.
“Jay?” Danielle tilted her head curiously, while Sunoo snickered.
“Jay’s my nephew,” Peter explained, leaning casually against the counter. “He and Y/N here hit it off pretty well. She was here so often, I was even considering paying her for helping out around the shop.”
His warm eyes sparkled with amusement, so reminiscent of Jay’s, but his words left you flustered.
Jake’s brows shot up as he smirked at you, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Ooh, hit it off pretty well, huh?”
“It’s—it’s not like that,” you stammered, voice dropping to a whisper. “Jay has a girlfriend. We just had a lot in common, that’s all.” The word girlfriend cut like a knife, the ache in your chest returning.
Your friends didn’t press further, shrugging it off as they scattered toward the guitar section. But Jake lingered, his brow furrowing as he noticed you rooted in place. Without hesitation, he grabbed your hand, tugging lightly.
“Y/N, come on!” Jake urged. “You’re supposed to be helping!”
Just then, the sound of shuffling from the storage room caught everyone’s attention. A moment later, Jay stumbled out, brushing dust from his silver hair.
“Uncle, did you just mention Y/N? Is she here? I swear i heard her voice,” he asked, his voice quick and eager as his eyes darted around the shop—until they landed on you.
The world seemed to slow as your eyes met his, and your heart leapt into your throat. How was it possible for him to look even better, with the roots of his hair starting to grow out, giving him an effortless charm? You swallowed hard, almost breaking eye contact, afraid Jay might see through the carefully constructed facade you’d built to convince everyone—yourself included—that you were fine. Just like he always did.
His gaze shifted downward to where Jake’s hand still held yours, and you swore you saw something flicker in his expression. His brows furrowed slightly, but was it disappointment? Anger? Defeat? You couldn’t tell, but the uncertainty sent a shiver down your spine.
“Hi! You must be Jay. I’m Y/N’s boyfriend, Jake,” Jake said smoothly, his voice cutting through the silence, his blatant lie delivered with practiced ease. He was testing a theory, watching Jay’s reaction like a scientist observing an experiment.
Jay’s brow furrowed deeply, the tight-lipped smile he’d worn vanishing in an instant. In its place was a frown, his expression growing colder and more guarded by the second. His gaze shifted from you, but not before you noticed the way his jaw clenched and his shoulders tensed. Was he... jealous? Did this really affect him? The questions raced through your mind as you struggled to process the shift in his demeanor.
Your jaw dropped in shock as you turned to Jake, practically yanking your hand out of his grasp. “He’s not my boyfriend!” you exclaimed, frantically waving your hands in front of your chest as if to dispel the misunderstanding. “I don’t have a boyfriend. He’s just joking! Don’t take it seriously...” Your voice trailed off into an awkward blabber, cheeks flushed as you tried to explain yourself to Jay.
Jake stood to the side, grinning knowingly as he watched the scene unfold. His eyes flicked to Jay, and his suspicions were confirmed when he saw the subtle change in Jay’s posture. The moment you clarified that Jake was joking, Jay’s shoulders eased, and the tension in his jaw loosened, though his guarded expression lingered.
Jake’s grin widened. “Just wanted to see something,” he muttered under his breath, barely loud enough for you to hear, as he stuffed his hands into his pockets.
“Not funny, man,” Jay said, his tone attempting lightness but still laced with a hint of irritation. He glanced briefly at Jake before turning his gaze back to you, his eyes searching yours.
Jake shrugged, clearly unbothered. “Just testing the waters,” he said nonchalantly, giving you a wink. “I’ll leave you two to… whatever this is.” With that, he turned and walked back toward Ning Ning and Sunoo, leaving you alone with Jay.
Jay stepped forward, his movements hesitant, as if testing the waters. “Y/N,” he called softly, his tone laced with a mix of relief and uncertainty.
You stopped, turning to face him. “Hi, Jay,” you replied, trying to keep your voice even despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you.
“It’s been a while,” he said, his hands fidgeting in his pockets. “I… I didn’t think I’d see you again.”
You swallowed hard, your eyes briefly meeting his before darting away. “Yeah, I’ve been… busy.”
Jay took another step closer, the corners of his lips tugging into a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Busy, huh? Too busy to even text?”
His words hit you like a wave, leaving you momentarily speechless. “I thought…” you began hesitantly, your voice barely above a whisper, “I thought it’d be better if I stayed away. You seemed happy. With Giselle.”
Jay’s expression faltered, and he dropped his gaze to the floor, exhaling a slow, measured breath. “Yeah, I’m happy with Giselle,” he admitted quietly, his voice tinged with something you couldn’t quite place. “But that didn’t mean you had to stay away. We’re friends, right?” His tone softened as if he hoped that saying it gently might lessen the weight of the words.
Hearing him confirm his happiness with Giselle was like a dagger to your heart. You nodded numbly, biting your lip in a futile attempt to keep your emotions in check. But your eyes betrayed you, filled with the sadness you desperately tried to hide. It was a cruel reminder that the growing feelings you had for Jay would always be unrequited.
Life seemed to take away the one good thing you had just when you started to believe in it again. You knew better than to come between Jay and Giselle. You knew better than to linger in his life, where your feelings would only deepen, making it harder to pull away. But how could you not fall for him? How could you resist the silver-haired boy who made your heart race, who smelled like cedar and coffee, whose hair fell into his face as he played your favorite songs with that endearing focus?
A bitter laugh escaped your lips, masking the sound of your heart breaking. “I know I might not mean anything to you,” you began, voice trembling, “and you might not even care, but I don’t think I can stay friends with you, Jay.” Your words cracked as tears threatened to spill. “Because I know I’d just keep falling for you. And you have Giselle. I’m glad you’re happy with her. I don’t want to ruin the good thing you have in your life.”
Your voice dropped to a whisper, but the quiver betrayed the storm raging inside you. Jay’s eyes snapped to yours, his face softening as he registered the raw emotion you couldn’t conceal. You were on the brink of breaking, and both of you knew it.
Jay’s eyes widened as your words sank in, the color draining from his face. He took a small step closer, his hand twitching like he wanted to reach for you but stopped himself. “Y/N,” he started, his voice cracking. “It’s not… it’s not like that.”
You forced a smile, though your trembling lips betrayed the façade. “It’s okay, Jay,” you said softly, your voice laced with heartbreak. “You don’t have to explain. You don’t owe me anything.”
Jay opened his mouth, but no words came out. His heart ached at the sight of you—so vulnerable, so heartbreakingly honest. He felt like the worst kind of person, watching you lay your emotions bare before him, offering your heart only for him to crush it. And the worst part? He knew you anticipated his response. You always understood him too well, the uncanny compatibility between you two making it all the harder for him to let this moment pass.
But before he could say anything, you spoke again, your voice trembling with raw emotion. “I think…” you began, your tone fragile, “I think it’s best for us to just leave this as it is, Jay.”
Your words came out as a plea, each one pulling at his chest. You blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears from falling, but the strain in your voice betrayed how close you were to breaking. Sniffling quickly, you kept your gaze fixed on the ground, refusing to look at him. You couldn’t bear to see the pity—or worse, indifference—in his eyes.
“I wish you well, Jay,” you choked out, barely managing to suppress a sob as you turned to leave, each step away from him feeling like it might break you entirely.
Jay froze, the words lodging in his throat as he watched you crumble before him. He wanted to reach out, to pull you into his arms and tell you that you were wrong—that he didn’t want to leave things like this. But your trembling voice, laced with heartbreak, stopped him in his tracks.
“Y/N…” he whispered, his voice laden with desperation, as if searching for the right words to hold you there. His mind raced, trying to form an explanation, an excuse—anything to stop you from walking away.
But you shook your head quickly, a silent plea for him not to make this even harder. “Don’t, Jay. Please,” you interrupted, your voice trembling, your resolve wavering as the words hung in the air.
He froze, his throat tightening at the finality in your tone.
Jay’s chest tightened, the weight of your words suffocating him. “You weren’t wrong,” he said, his voice breaking. “You weren’t wrong about us.”
You offered him a sad smile, one that didn’t reach your eyes. “But it doesn’t matter, does it?”
He stepped closer, his presence warm yet hesitant, his hand hovering just inches from yours. For a moment, it seemed like he might take your hand, his fingers twitching with an unspoken yearning. But he hesitated, his hand lingering in the air, uncertain and desperate. It was as if he wasn’t sure if he had the right to hold onto you, to ask you to stay.
“It matters to me,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper, but the weight of his words carried straight to your heart. His gaze burned into yours, raw and unguarded, his emotions laid bare. “You matter to me, but not in the way you want it to be. ”
The vulnerability in his tone, the way his voice cracked slightly at the end, made your breath catch. You wanted to believe him, wanted to trust those words, but the pain in your chest reminded you of the boundaries that couldn’t be crossed. Still, his proximity, the sincerity in his eyes, made it harder to walk away.
Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you let yourself believe him. But the hurt was too deep, the scars too fresh. You knew you mattered, just not the way you wanted it to be. You took a step back, creating a physical barrier between you that mirrored the emotional one you were building.
“Bye, Jay,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you turned and walked away.
Jay stood there, rooted to the spot, watching you leave for the second time. He wanted to chase after you, to tell you everything he couldn’t put into words, but his feet refused to move. He could only watch as the person who had come to mean so much to him disappeared from his life, leaving him with a hollow ache in his chest and the echoes of what could have been.
For both of you, the goodbye felt final, even though your hearts whispered that it didn’t have to be.
Your friends exchanged bewildered glances, their confusion palpable, but you didn’t turn back. You couldn’t. With each step, the weight of your feelings threatened to crush you, but you forced yourself forward, knowing it was the only way to protect your heart.
“Hey, Jay,” Jake started cautiously, his voice steady but low. “What just happened?”
Jay’s gaze remained fixed on the door you’d just walked through, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. He couldn’t bring himself to answer. How could he possibly explain what had just transpired?
Sunoo sighed, placing a hand on Jake’s shoulder. “I think we should give them space,” he said softly, gesturing toward the door. “Let’s go check on Y/N.”
The group nodded in agreement, leaving Jay standing there, his silver hair catching the dim light of the shop. His uncle’s voice broke the silence.
“Jay,” Peter said gently, coming out from behind the counter. “You care about her, don’t you?”
Jay’s shoulders slumped, and he let out a shaky breath. “Yeah,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “I do.”
Peter gave him a sympathetic look, his brow furrowing in thought. “Then maybe it’s time you figure out what you really want. Don’t let her slip away without a fight, Jay. Not if she means this much to you.”
Jay nodded, but his heart felt heavy. He didn’t know if he deserved to fight for you after everything he’d put you through. But he did know one thing—losing you felt like losing a part of himself.
As the shop grew quiet again, Jay sat down on the stool, his hand instinctively reaching for Veronica. He strummed a few chords aimlessly, his mind replaying every moment he’d shared with you. The sound of the door chime echoed in the background, but this time, it wasn’t you walking through. It was emptiness, a reminder of what he had just lost.
Months had slipped by, yet Jay was still a ghost in your thoughts. You told yourself you were over him—that time and distance had healed the wound. But every now and then, a memory of his warm smile or the shared laughter over an inside joke would surface, and you couldn’t help but chuckle softly to yourself. It was fleeting, but the ache it brought lingered.
You convinced yourself you’d moved on. After all, you no longer visited the shop, no longer hovered over his contact late at night. But distance, as they say, often makes the heart grow fonder. Deep down, you knew your feelings for Jay weren’t just a fleeting crush or infatuation. They were deeper, more real than you wanted to admit.
On days when the ache felt unbearable, you found yourself wandering near the record shop. You told yourself it was coincidence, that it wasn’t intentional. But each time, your gaze would be drawn to the glass panel, and there he was. Sometimes he’d sit at the counter, lost in thought, his lips forming a soft pout. Other times, he’d strum Veronica on the stool where you used to sit, or move around the shop, chatting animatedly with customers.
And sometimes, just sometimes, it felt like he sensed your presence. His head would turn suddenly, eyes scanning the street. Your heart would leap, and you’d duck behind a pillar, pulse racing as if caught in a forbidden act. Surely, he hadn’t seen you. Right?
Eventually, you stopped. Sunoo, ever the voice of reason, had convinced you that spying from a distance wouldn’t help you move on. You listened. Or at least, you tried.
But Jay had noticed. Every time you came, he saw you—your wide eyes peeking around the corner, the way you hurriedly hid whenever he looked up. He felt a pull to step outside, to call your name, to close the distance between you. Yet, he held back. He told himself it wasn’t fair—to you, to Giselle, to the delicate balance of their lives. He was happy with Giselle—or at least, that’s what he repeated to himself.
So why did thoughts of you creep in when he wasn’t paying attention? Why did he catch himself searching for your laugh in the shop’s quiet, or remembering the way your eyes lit up when he played your favorite song? Could it be that he was falling for you too?
When he realized you’d stopped coming entirely, the tightening in his chest was unbearable. Did you finally move on? Had you met someone who played the guitar better than he could? Someone who shared your love for mint chocolate? The idea was suffocating, but he couldn’t shake it.
And for the first time in a long while, Jay wasn’t sure if he’d made the right choice.
One evening, Jay and Giselle went out for dinner, a rare chance to unwind amidst their busy schedules. After their meal, Giselle beamed, her eyes lighting up as she suggested, “Let’s grab some ice cream. There’s a new shop just down the block.”
Jay nodded, following her lead as they strolled into the cozy shop, the warm lights and cheerful atmosphere inviting them in. The server greeted them with a bright smile. “Welcome! Would you like to try our new flavors?” they asked enthusiastically, motioning to the chalkboard menu listing options in colorful script.
As Giselle scanned the choices, debating between strawberry basil and caramel pretzel, Jay’s eyes drifted over the menu absentmindedly. When the server turned to him, he surprised himself by blurting out, “I’ll have a cup of mint chocolate, please.”
Giselle’s head snapped toward him, a puzzled expression on her face. “Wait, mint chocolate? Don’t you hate that flavor?” she asked, her voice tinged with amusement and disbelief.
Jay froze for a moment, caught off guard by his own decision. The truth was, he hadn’t been thinking about himself when he ordered. He’d been thinking of you. Memories of your playful arguments over ice cream flooded his mind—how you’d stubbornly defended mint chocolate while accusing him of having the palate of a goat for liking matcha. He could almost hear your voice now, teasing and full of life, and the thought made his lips curl into a faint smile.
“Oh, yeah,” he said, trying to play it off casually. “Y/N used to love mint chocolate. She always said it didn’t taste like toothpaste. One time, I told her matcha was better, and she told me to eat grass instead.”
Giselle laughed softly, though there was a flicker of something in her eyes—curiosity, perhaps, or even unease. “Sounds like you and Y/N had a lot of… interesting debates.”
“Yeah,” Jay admitted, his voice quieter now. He didn’t elaborate, but as he took the first bite of the ice cream, a wave of nostalgia hit him. It was bittersweet, much like the flavor he once swore he disliked.
“I haven’t seen her around the shop lately. Did something happen between the two of you?” Giselle asked, her voice light but her gaze sharp, studying Jay’s reaction.
Jay’s brows furrowed as flashes of memory ran through his mind—your tearful goodbye, the way you’d pulled away from him, the words you’d whispered, so final and resolute. His chest tightened, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. He hated how those memories stirred feelings he couldn’t quite name, feelings that made him want to clutch onto them selfishly, as if preserving them for himself would somehow keep you closer.
“Yeah, uh… we’re not really friends anymore,” Jay said lightly, though his tone betrayed him. The seriousness in his voice, the subtle edge, told Giselle everything she needed to know. “But I don’t really want to talk about it.”
Giselle raised an eyebrow, intrigued but cautious. Jay wasn’t one to dwell on relationships that ended; he always kept his circle small, rarely letting people in. Usually, it was just his longtime friends—Heeseung and Sunghoon—who truly knew him. But you? You had broken through those walls in a matter of weeks. How had you done it?
Even Giselle, who had been dating Jay for months, had taken her time to chip away at his guarded exterior. Yet, with you, it seemed effortless. It gnawed at her—a quiet curiosity mixed with something she didn’t want to name.
Giselle studied Jay’s face, noticing the slight tension in his jaw and the way his grip on the ice cream cup tightened. It was rare for Jay to get so guarded, especially with her. She had always admired his calm and collected demeanor, but this was different. This was about you.
“You don’t want to talk about it?” Giselle repeated softly, her voice gentle but probing. “Jay, you know you can tell me anything, right?”
Jay exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair as if trying to shake off the weight of the conversation. He met Giselle’s gaze, his expression unreadable. “It’s not about not trusting you,” he said carefully. “It’s just... complicated.”
Giselle nodded slowly, though the curiosity in her eyes remained. “Complicated how?” she pressed, her tone still soft but laced with concern.
Jay hesitated, torn between the desire to keep the memories of you to himself and the need to reassure Giselle. “She... meant a lot to me,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, almost as if he were confessing something. “We connected in a way that felt different, you know? But it’s over now. She walked away, and I let her.”
Giselle’s brows furrowed at his words. “Different how?” she asked, the question slipping out before she could stop herself.
Jay paused, searching for the right words. “She just... got me,” he said finally. “In a way that didn’t feel forced or complicated. It was easy. She understood things about me that I didn’t even have to explain.”
Giselle’s heart sank at his honesty. She couldn’t ignore the pang of jealousy that crept into her chest, but she pushed it aside. “And what about us?” she asked, her voice tinged with vulnerability. “Do you feel that way with me?”
Jay’s eyes widened slightly, guilt flashing across his face. “Of course I do,” he said quickly, reaching out to take her hand. “Giselle, you’re amazing. You’re my girlfriend. This isn’t about comparing anyone to you. It’s just... a chapter in my life that I wasn’t expecting, and now it’s closed.”
But even as the words left his lips, Jay couldn’t ignore the hollow ache in his chest. Because while he might have closed that chapter, it didn’t mean he had stopped rereading it in his mind. And the more he tried to convince himself otherwise, the more your name lingered on the tip of his tongue.
You sat in the library with your project partner, Sunghoon, discussing how to split the workload. You realized that, despite his quiet demeanor, Sunghoon was actually pretty funny. He often described himself as a "loud introvert," and the more you got to know him, the more you agreed with that description. He gradually integrated into your friend group, quickly becoming close with everyone.
As school grew busier, you started pushing aside the feelings you had for Jay and focused on your studies. With Sunghoon, you managed to score a high grade on your assignment, leading you both to agree to partner up for every project from then on.
To celebrate the end of the school term, your friend group decided to take a trip to Rome, Italy. Everyone was excited to experience the breathtaking architecture. But, as always, life had other plans.
On your second day in Rome, Sunghoon suggested visiting a vinyl shop he had read about online. It wasn’t surprising; you’d come to learn that Sunghoon shared your love for music and had an appreciation for vintage records.
“I need to grab a gift for a friend,” Sunghoon explained as you both waited for a taxi. “He’s really into vinyls. Works in his uncle’s guitar shop.”
The mention of a guitar shop made you freeze for a moment, Jay’s face flashing in your mind. But you quickly pushed the thought aside. Rome was a big city; there was no way this could be connected.It had been a while since you'd last seen him or even spoken to him, and you couldn't help but wonder how he was doing. But the memory of him telling you that he couldn’t see you as more than a friend still lingered, and it made your heart ache even after all this time.
You were standing outside a café, scanning for a place to sit. You noticed a table with a guy sitting alone, an empty seat across from him. Something about the broad shoulders felt familiar. For a moment, you thought it was Jay, but then you remembered that Jay had silver hair, not black, and you doubted he would be in Rome. But you were completely wrong.
Summoning your courage, you walked over to the boy, tapping him lightly on the shoulder. You tried to sound cheerful, “Hi, I’m so sorry to bother you, but would it be possible to share the table? I’m just waiting for someone.” You flashed your best smile, attempting to appear friendly.
But as soon as he looked up, your breath caught. Sitting at the table with a book in hand was Jay, Jongseong. You gasped in shock, and his surprised gaze met yours.
His gaze shifted from confusion to surprise, and then to something you couldn't quite place—longing? Relief? Happiness?
"Y/N?" Jay's voice was filled with disbelief. "Is that you?"
"Jay? What are you doing here?" you responded, equally shocked. How was he in Rome?
You took a moment to take in his appearance—his silver hair was now dyed back to black, and he wore a pair of black-framed glasses perched on his nose. His outfit was simple: a black shirt, blue jeans, and Rick Owens sneakers, yet somehow he looked even more handsome. You couldn’t help but notice the other female customers in the café subtly glancing in his direction, likely drawn to his effortless charm.
Suddenly, the feelings you had buried for so long began to resurface—faster and more intensely than you had expected. You missed him. You missed him more than you cared to admit. You hadn’t expected to see Jay again, but here he was, in front of you, and everything about this moment felt overwhelming.
When Jay felt a tap on his shoulder, he was expecting it to be Giselle, ready to tell him it was time to go. To be honest, the only reason he was even in Rome was for the vinyls and guitar shops—he knew there would be rare finds, given how long some of the shops had been around.
But he didn’t expect to see you.
You were standing in front of him, wearing a sundress in his favorite color—green. The way you smiled brightly at him, only to pause when you realized it was him, made his chest tighten. You looked so beautiful in that dress, the fabric flowing all the way down to your ankles, making you look like something straight out of a fairy tale. Jay’s heart began to race as he took you in, unable to tear his eyes away.
His mind raced, thoughts colliding with the reality of the situation. How was it possible that after all this time, here you were—standing in front of him in Rome? The emotions he had carefully tucked away began to surface again, sharper than before. The feelings he had suppressed, buried in the quiet moments when he let himself think of you, were now resurfacing with an intensity he wasn’t prepared for.
“I–you–how?” Jay’s voice came out as a strained whisper, his words caught in his throat. He missed you, he truly did. It wasn’t right to feel this way when he had Giselle, but he couldn’t help it. Not when you were standing there, wearing his favorite color, looking so beautiful with the sunlight catching your hair. His heart ached, watching the way your smile faltered after you recognized him.
“I’m here with Giselle,” he said, his voice low, almost as if trying to explain himself, “She wanted to go on a trip.”
The way your eyes dimmed at the mention of her made a sharp pain hit his chest. He didn’t know why it hurt so much, but that wasn’t important right now. He needed to talk to you. He needed to know how you were doing, how school had been, how you were holding up. He wanted to tell you that he had changed his mind about mint chocolate, that he now secretly liked it, and how he couldn’t stop listening to White Ferrari by Frank Ocean because the lyrics reminded him of you. He needed to know if you had moved on from him, if you were okay.
Before he could say any of this, you spoke. “I think I should go. Sorry to bother you. Have a good trip, Jay.” Your voice was soft, and Jay could hear the pain you tried to hide, the yearning that lingered beneath your words. How much you missed talking to him, how much you missed watching him play Veronica.
“Wait—Y/N.” His hand shot out, grabbing your wrist gently but firmly, holding you in place as he stood up.
“Please don’t run away from me again,” Jay’s voice was softer now, but it trembled with vulnerability. The desperation in his words made his chest ache, and the way he looked at you, his gaze so open and raw, left no room for doubt—he needed you to stay.
He knew deep down it was wrong. So, so wrong. But in that moment, all he could think about was how much he longed to see you again.
“Jay? What are you—who’s that? Oh, y/n?” Giselle’s voice sliced through the tension as she neared the two of you, her footsteps faltering slightly as she took in the scene.
Giselle's voice rang out sharply, pulling Jay’s attention toward her. Her eyes, once confident, now flickered with something unsettling. As she got closer, the look of confusion and concern on her face grew. She took in the sight of Jay still holding onto your wrist, the gentle way his fingers were wrapped around you. His gaze was soft, almost pleading, something that made her heart twist. She could feel the weight of the shift in the air, the subtle change in Jay's demeanor, and she knew something was different.
The sight of him looking at you like that, so vulnerable and open, made her stomach churn with unease. Giselle had always been sure of Jay—sure of the way he looked at her, sure of the space he made for her in his life. But now, it felt like something was slipping out of her grasp, something she couldn’t quite define.
She knew about Jay’s past relationships—how his exes would beg him to take them back, and yet he never budged. Jay had always been laidback, never one to push things or chase anyone. He’d let things happen naturally, even if that meant moving on when things got tough. But this? This was different.
As she studied you, her gaze softened just a little, but it was enough for you to feel the shift. She could tell by the way you carried yourself that there was more to your relationship with Jay than just a casual meeting. There was history in the way he held your wrist, in the way his eyes searched yours for something he seemed to have lost. It wasn’t hard to see it now. Giselle had been with Jay for long enough to know the subtleties of his body language, but she had never seen him like this. Never seen him plead with anyone.
The jealousy bubbled up in her chest, rising faster than she could control it. She hated feeling like this, but she couldn’t stop it. The effortless way you had him wrapped around your finger was something she could never seem to achieve. No matter how hard she tried to get close to him, how much effort she put into learning about his music, his favorite bands, his quirks—Jay had always been a little distant, a little elusive, like he was holding something back.
But with you? It was different. The connection was palpable, even if it was unspoken. You had always been able to reach him in ways she couldn’t, and the sight of him wanting to talk to you, to stay with you, made her feel invisible.
As Giselle’s gaze turned bitter, she watched Jay’s grip on your wrist loosen, his hand dropping back to his side, defeated. She saw you step back, but the look in your eyes—mirroring Jay’s longing—was all the confirmation she needed. You weren’t just infatuated with her boyfriend; you were in love with him. You were in love with Jay.
“Y/n, what a coincidence!”
Giselle’s smile was tight, laced with an air of false cheerfulness as she greeted you. The subtle intertwining of her fingers with Jay’s was intentional— a clear display of ownership, a silent message that she wasn’t going anywhere. She wanted you to see it, wanted you to feel the distance between you and Jay, wanted you to know that no matter the history, the connection, or the lingering feelings that might still exist, Jay was hers. And she would make sure you understood that.
Jay’s fingers curled against hers, a motion so small, yet filled with so much meaning. Giselle wasn’t sure if it was a silent reassurance for her or a subtle signal to her, telling her not to overstep, not to push too far. He wasn’t looking at her as much as he was looking at you—his gaze was distant, almost apologetic, as though there was a silent conversation going on between the three of you without words. But Giselle was determined to play her part, to hold onto what she thought was hers.
She watched you, her eyes narrowing just slightly, noticing the way your gaze flickered to their intertwined hands, the way your lips pressed into a thin line as the sadness in your eyes became undeniable. For a moment, Giselle felt a flicker of guilt. She could see it in your eyes—the resignation, the hurt, the unspoken words. But that flicker was fleeting, quickly buried beneath a layer of pride and possessiveness.
She watched your expression falter, the realization hitting that the distance between you and Jay was no longer something you could ignore. The subtle disappointment in your face was enough for her to feel a cruel satisfaction. It was like the pieces of a puzzle falling into place. Giselle wasn’t stupid—she could read the way Jay’s body language changed when he was around you, the way his eyes lingered a little too long, the way his tone softened. She could feel it now—the same undercurrent of something that had once been hers. And she wasn’t about to let that slip away without a fight.
The quiet ache in her chest was still there, but it was drowned out by the heat of her jealousy, her insecurity, her need to win. And if that meant pushing you to your breaking point, to make you feel as small and as invisible as possible, then she was willing to do whatever it took. You weren’t going to be the one to take him away. Not after all the effort she had put in to build her life with him.
As Giselle turned her head to kiss Jay on the lips, she heard the small gasp escape from you, and in that moment, she knew she had won.
Your heart shattered, watching Giselle kiss Jay. You wished it could be you, to hold his hand, to feel his arms around you, to feel his lips against yours. But that would never happen, not when all Jay saw you as was a friend. You wanted to turn and walk away, but the ache in your chest kept you rooted to the ground, helplessly watching the scene before you.
Silently, you prayed for someone—anyone—to pull you from the situation. It felt like the universe answered your silent plea when Sunghoon arrived.
“Y/n, let’s go—Jay?” Sunghoon’s voice called out, confusion creeping into his tone as he noticed Jay standing in front of you.
“Hoon?” Jay responded, just as confused, wondering how you and Sunghoon knew each other.
“What are you doing here?” Both of them asked in unison.
“I’m here with Giselle for a holiday. You? How’d you know Y/n?” Jay cleared his throat, trying to keep things lighthearted, though his voice held an edge of protectiveness that Giselle quickly noticed.
Sunghoon glanced back and forth between you and Jay before offering Giselle a polite smile in greeting.
“You guys know each other? Y/n, that’s the friend I told you about who works at a guitar shop. That’s Jay,” Sunghoon explained, oblivious to the tension in the air.
Ah, so they were friends.
Before anyone could say another word, Giselle cut through the silence, her voice a little too bright. “Oh my god, are you guys dating? Jay, look at their matching bracelet! It’s so cute. Should we get one too?” She gestured toward the friendship bracelet that Jungwon had made your whole friend group get, but since the others weren’t around, it made it look like you and Sunghoon were a couple.
Jay’s breath hitched. Were you dating Sunghoon now? How did he not know about this? Sunghoon had never mentioned anything about you when they hung out. Why were you alone with him?
You wanted to explain, to deny the accusation, because it felt wrong to even entertain the thought of being with someone other than Jay. But as your eyes locked with Giselle’s, she gave you a look that made it clear what she was trying to do. You could feel the guilt washing over you. No matter how hard you tried to distance yourself from Jay, the pull was still there.
So, with a heavy heart, you nodded and whispered, “Yeah, we’ve been dating for a while now. We’re in the same class, and we got closer.” You rushed the words out, hoping they sounded convincing.
Sunghoon looked down at you, his brow furrowing in confusion, but he knew better than to expose your lie in front of everyone now. He played along, extending his hand to hold yours.
“Sorry I didn’t tell you guys sooner. I just wanted to find the right time to properly introduce her,” Sunghoon lied smoothly, glancing at Jay.
The weight of the lie you just told settled heavily in your chest. Every word felt like a betrayal, not just to Jay, but to yourself. You could see the confusion flicker in his eyes, the way his lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to ask more, to understand, but he couldn’t. Instead, he swallowed whatever questions he had, and his gaze drifted to Sunghoon, his brows furrowed.
Giselle, on the other hand, was smiling too brightly. She was the one who had won, the one who had forced your hand. Her expression was smug, satisfied as she watched the situation unfold. When you nodded and agreed with her assumption, it was like she had claimed her victory. The small, almost imperceptible twitch in Jay's expression wasn’t enough to make her question her dominance. Instead, she looked between the two of you, a thin veil of sweetness hiding the bitterness she felt beneath the surface.
Jay couldn’t look at you directly. He turned to Sunghoon, his voice casual, yet there was a hint of uncertainty in it. "I didn’t know you two were... close," he said, the words like they were heavier than they sounded.
You couldn’t help but feel like you were suffocating. Every part of you wanted to reach out to Jay, to tell him the truth, to explain that you never intended for this to happen. That it wasn’t about Sunghoon at all. But Giselle’s gaze held you firmly in place, daring you to break, daring you to unravel.
Sunghoon’s hand on yours felt oddly comforting, but it couldn’t block out the ache in your chest. He squeezed your hand, the pressure there like a silent reassurance. He had always been protective, always there for you when you needed someone. But even in this moment, his presence felt like it wasn’t enough to shield you from the heaviness of the lie. The guilt gnawed at you, the burden of keeping up this façade pulling you further away from the truth.
"Right," Jay said finally, his voice quieter now. He gave a small nod, but it was clear that something was weighing on him. His gaze flickered back to you briefly, but you couldn’t meet his eyes. You couldn’t bear to.
Giselle leaned in a little closer to Jay, her fingers tightening around his. "Well, if you’re all set, I think we should go, baby. We have a lot of things to do, don’t we?" Her tone was overly sweet, but it cut through the tension like a knife. She was reminding everyone who Jay was with, reminding you where you stood.
You nodded, your heart sinking deeper into your chest. "Yeah, you should go. I should go too," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.
Sunghoon gave you a gentle nudge, his thumb brushing against the back of your hand, and you took a step away, trying to escape the suffocating atmosphere. But as you turned away, you caught one last glimpse of Jay—his face unreadable, his body tense. He was still holding onto something, still fighting the pull between you and Giselle, between what was real and what had to be hidden.
You turned your back before your emotions could get the best of you, walking away with Sunghoon by your side. But even as you put distance between yourself and that moment, you knew the lie you had told wouldn’t just fade. It was going to hang over you, a shadow you wouldn’t be able to outrun. And Jay? Well, you had no idea where things stood with him anymore. But you knew one thing for sure—everything had just become so much more complicated.
“What was that?” Sunghoon asked softly once you were out of sight of the couple.
“I didn’t know you two were friends,” you mumbled, your gaze fixed on the ground. “I met Jay when I visited the guitar shop he worked at. We got along really well, and I...” You hesitated, your voice faltering. Sunghoon’s reassuring nod gave you the courage to continue.
“And I fell for him,” you admitted quietly. “But then I found out he was dating Giselle. I tried to move on, Sunghoon. I really did. But now, seeing him here in Rome... it’s like all those feelings are coming back, stronger than before.”
Your voice dropped to a near-whisper, trembling with emotion. “I think I’m in love with him, Sunghoon. But I can’t have him, and it hurts so much.”
Sunghoon stopped walking, his expression serious as he took in your words. He didn't interrupt, letting you speak your heart, and when you finished, there was a long pause. You could feel the weight of the silence between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.
He let out a quiet sigh before looking at you with understanding eyes, his tone soft. “I had no idea you felt that way about Jay,” he said slowly. “I could tell something was off, but I didn’t know it went this deep. You don’t have to carry this burden alone, Y/n.”
You looked up at him, the vulnerability in your eyes showing the rawness of your feelings. "I feel so stupid," you admitted, "for letting myself fall for someone who’s already with someone else. And now I don’t know what to do. I can’t just… turn it off. But seeing him with Giselle, holding her hand, it was like a slap in the face."
Sunghoon’s expression softened, his voice firm and caring. “You’re not stupid, Y/n. Love isn’t something you can control. You can’t just turn it off because it’s inconvenient. And I know it hurts to see him with her, but you have to remember that his relationship with Giselle doesn’t define you. You deserve someone who sees you the way you see them, someone who won’t make you feel like second place.”
You closed your eyes, the weight of his words settling in. You wanted so badly to be that person for Jay, but the reality of the situation made it feel impossible.
“I know,” you whispered. “But it doesn’t change how I feel.”
“I get it,” Sunghoon replied quietly. “And you’re allowed to feel that way. But you have to focus on healing, Y/n. If you keep holding onto something that isn’t yours, it’s only going to hurt more in the long run.” He paused, watching you carefully. “You deserve someone who’s going to choose you, not someone who’s already made their choice.”
Your chest tightened as Sunghoon’s words echoed in your mind. You nodded slowly, but a part of you still longed for something that seemed so far out of reach.
“I don’t know if I can move on from him, Sunghoon,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper.
Sunghoon gently squeezed your hand. “You don’t have to right away. But take it one day at a time. You’ll get through this, Y/n. And no matter what happens, I’m here for you, okay?”
You gave him a small, grateful smile, the first one in what felt like a long time. "Thank you, Hoon. I really needed to hear that."
Jay couldn’t focus on anything Giselle was saying because his thoughts were consumed by you: the way you looked in that green dress, the brightness of your smile. He had always thought he was good at making decisions, at choosing the right path. But sitting alone in a café in Rome, he realized that when it came to you, he didn’t even know what the right thing was anymore.
“Are you falling for her?” Giselle’s voice broke through his thoughts, sharp and accusing. She stared at him, waiting for an answer.
Usually, Jay would have shaken his head defensively, pouring extra effort into reassuring her—just as he always did when she questioned his feelings. But this time, he couldn’t.
When Jay started dating Giselle, he thought she was the one. He pictured himself ten years down the road, marrying her, starting a family. That vision had seemed so clear and solid. But now, everything was blurry. Everything was you.
His head hung low in shame and guilt. He couldn’t bring himself to meet her gaze or deny it. He didn’t want to lie to himself anymore, and he didn’t want to lie to Giselle either.
The sight of Jay’s silence, his lowered head, shattered something inside Giselle. She felt her heart plummet, realizing what he wasn’t saying aloud—that he was starting to fall for someone else, and it was happening right in front of her eyes.
Hurt and sadness flickered across her face as she looked at him. She wasn’t ready to let him go. Not yet. She had loved him dearly and used to feel so secure in their relationship. She never had to question his loyalty or love. Jay had always been kind, warm, respectful—a man anyone would admire. He had been her perfect match.
But then you came into his life, and everything changed. You unraveled their relationship without even trying. She could see it in the way Jay’s face lit up when he talked about you, in the private jokes he’d share that only the two of you could understand. Even when they were out together, he would somehow bring you up.
There were nights when insecurity gnawed at her, especially when she noticed how his shoulders slumped as if he were expecting someone else to walk through the door—someone who wasn’t her. She knew, deep down, that he was looking for you.
Frustration and anger consumed her, and eventually, those feelings overwhelmed her guilt. She sought solace elsewhere. Intak had been a distraction, a way to fill the void left by Jay’s drifting attention. Initially, she felt guilty about going out with Intak while still with Jay, but over time, she convinced herself it wasn’t her fault. It was your fault.
You had turned Jay’s head. You had ruined what they had. And now, standing there, she could feel her anger boiling over, fueled by the bitterness of knowing she had been losing him long before this moment.
“Giselle…” he finally murmured, his voice low and uneven. He looked up, and the heartbreak in her eyes made his chest tighten painfully. “I—I don’t know what to say.”
Jay felt the weight of Giselle’s silence as it stretched between them, the tension thick and suffocating. He could feel her gaze boring into him, searching for answers he wasn’t ready to give. He didn’t have the courage to look at her, his shame tethering him to the ground, keeping his eyes fixed on the polished table in front of him.
The truth was messy, tangled in emotions he didn’t want to acknowledge. He knew it wasn’t fair to Giselle, and he hated himself for it. She didn’t deserve this—not the doubt, not the hesitation, not the betrayal that lingered unspoken between them.
Giselle let out a shaky breath, her hands clenched into fists on her lap. “Do you even realize what you’ve done to me, Jay? Do you know how hard I’ve fought for us, for this relationship, while you—” Her voice broke again, and she took a moment to steady herself. “While you were busy thinking about her?”
Jay flinched at the accusation, the raw truth cutting deeper than he expected. He wanted to deny it, to tell her that it wasn’t like that, but he couldn’t. He didn’t have the right to argue when he knew she was right.
Her words hung heavy in the air, and Jay felt like he couldn’t breathe. He wanted to say something, anything, to make it better, but every word felt hollow, insincere. He could only sit there, his mind racing with thoughts of you, of Giselle, of the tangled mess he had created.
“Do you love her?” Giselle asked suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Jay froze, the question hitting him like a punch to the gut. Love? The word echoed in his mind, stirring up feelings he wasn’t ready to confront. He didn’t know how to answer. All he knew was that when he thought of you, his heart felt full and aching all at once, and the thought of losing you—of never seeing you again—made it hard to breathe.
“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice cracking. “But I think…I think I could.”
Giselle’s breath hitched, and she stood abruptly, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. “I can’t do this right now,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. She grabbed her bag and stormed out of the café, leaving Jay sitting there, alone and drowning in the weight of his guilt and confusion.
For the first time, he wondered if he’d already lost everything he thought he wanted—and if you were the one he’d been searching for all along.
Jay watched Giselle’s silhouette disappear into the distance, a heavy weight settling in his chest. He should feel relief, should focus on being the boyfriend she deserved—but his thoughts were tangled, knotted around you. If he truly loved Giselle, there wouldn’t be room for this ache, this restless longing that clawed at him every time he thought of you.
You weren’t his. You never were. And now you were with Sunghoon, his best friend. It should have been easy to let you go, to convince himself that you belonged to someone else. But watching you walk away again felt like someone had ripped a piece of him out, leaving behind a hollow that pulsed with a dull, relentless pain.
Jay told himself he needed to stop. Stop complicating things, stop dreaming of something that could never be. Maybe you were always destined to be a "what if," a fleeting possibility that would haunt him for years to come. He owed it to Giselle to be better, to finally close the door on these feelings. But before he could force himself to let go, he needed to see you one last time.
Later that night, just as you were trying to convince yourself to sleep, your phone buzzed. The screen lit up with a message from Jay.
“Hey, can we talk?”
Your chest tightened. You stared at the words, your hands trembling as you debated your response. Another text followed almost immediately:
“Please.”
The desperation in that one word hit you like a punch to the gut. You wanted to say no, to protect yourself, to end this painful cycle before it broke you completely. But what right did you have to talk to Jay? You weren’t friends, weren’t lovers. You were barely even anything at all anymore.
Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, the tears already falling as you typed:
“Jay, we can’t. This isn’t right. Please don’t make this harder than it already is. We’re both happy. Maybe it’s time to put an end to this.”
You stared at the message, knowing how false it was. Happy? How could you call this agony happiness? The boy you loved was in someone else’s arms, and yet here you were, lying to him and to yourself.
The moment you hit send, your phone rang. Jay’s name flashed on the screen, and your heart lurched violently. You answered, your voice barely above a whisper.
“Hello?”
“Y/N, I’m— I’m downstairs. At your hotel,” Jay’s voice came through, rushed and uneven, like he was struggling to breathe. “I asked Sunghoon. I’m sorry, but I need to see you. Just for a while… please?”
His words were frantic, pleading. You could hear the urgency, the raw edge to his voice that shattered what little resolve you had left.
“I’ll wait until you come down,” he added, his voice softer now, almost broken, before hanging up.
You gripped your phone tightly, your heart a storm of emotions you couldn’t contain. You hated him for doing this to you, for making it impossible to stay away. But more than that, you hated yourself for never being able to say no to him. Jay was your weakness, your undoing. He was the boy who had stolen your heart so effortlessly and left you with nothing but pain in its place.
Before you knew it, your feet carried you out the door, down the elevator, and into the night. Each step felt heavier than the last, the weight of your emotions pressing down on you.
When you reached the street, you saw him immediately. He was leaning against the wall, head hung low, his hands nervously twisting the jacket he held. As you approached, trying to keep your steps quiet, his head snapped up, his eyes finding yours instantly.
For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence between you felt deafening, loaded with everything you couldn’t say. The world around you faded, the hum of the city dimming as the two of you stood there, suspended in time.
The soft glow of the streetlamp illuminated his face, highlighting the tension in his jaw and the storm in his eyes. He looked at you like you were both the answer to every question and the reason for every problem. And you hated how much you wanted to fall apart right there, in front of him, just to feel his arms catch you.
But you knew better. This was a game you could never win, and yet here you were, ready to lose all over again.
Before you could even process what was happening, Jay closed the distance between you, his hands cradling your face with a mix of urgency and tenderness before his lips crashed onto yours. The kiss was electric, chaotic, and raw, filled with emotions that neither of you had been able to express in words. His lips moved fervently against yours, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, and you felt the weight of his desperation, longing, guilt, and frustration pouring into every movement.
You froze at first, your mind screaming at you to push him away. This was wrong—so, so wrong. He had a girlfriend. You had Sunghoon. This moment wasn’t supposed to exist, and yet, as his warmth enveloped you, you found yourself unable to resist.
You weren’t supposed to enjoy the way his lips felt on yours, the way they ignited a fire in you that you’d tried so hard to extinguish. You weren’t supposed to let your hands drift up to clutch at his shirt, pulling him closer as though he was the only thing keeping you grounded. But you did.
The world around you disappeared, and all that remained was Jay—his touch, his breath, his presence overwhelming you entirely. Your lips moved against his with the same frantic energy, your emotions spilling out in a silent confession. You kissed him back with everything you had, trying to imprint this moment into your memory because deep down, you knew it wouldn’t last.
This wasn’t yours to keep. This wasn’t yours at all. And yet, for this fleeting moment, you allowed yourself to believe that it could be. Tonight, you let yourself forget the consequences, the heartbreak waiting just beyond the glow of the streetlamp. Tonight, you gave yourself to Jay completely, even as your heart fractured under the weight of knowing that this would only ever be a stolen moment.
The world seemed to blur around you as Jay’s lips moved against yours. The cold night air faded, replaced by the heat of the moment, the intensity of emotions you both tried so hard to suppress. His hands were warm, firm yet tender as they cradled your face, grounding you in the whirlwind of feelings you had been running from for so long.
But the weight of reality loomed over you like a shadow, tugging at your conscience even as your heart begged you to stay in this fleeting moment. The kiss was a storm—fierce, unrelenting, and consuming—but you knew storms always passed, leaving devastation in their wake.
“Jay,” you gasped, breaking away, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Your hands, still clutching his shirt, trembled as you looked up at him. His eyes were dark, searching yours for answers, for reassurance, for anything to justify what had just happened.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, but his hands didn’t leave your face. “I just... I couldn’t hold back anymore.”
You shook your head, tears welling up as the weight of what had just happened crashed over you. “This isn’t right, Jay. We can’t do this,” you said, your voice cracking. “You have Giselle. And me—I’m with Sunghoon.” The words felt hollow, but you forced them out, hoping to remind both of you of the lines you’d just crossed.
His jaw tightened at the mention of Sunghoon, and he looked away briefly, as if the thought pained him. “I know,” he said quietly. “I know this is wrong. But I couldn’t stop myself. I needed to see you.” he admitted, his voice laced with regret. “But I can’t stop thinking about you, Y/N. I’ve tried—I’ve tried so hard, but no matter what, you’re always there.”
His confession tore through you, the raw vulnerability in his words igniting something deep within your chest, but the guilt that followed was sharper. “Jay, you don’t understand what this will do to everyone,” you said, wiping at your tears. “This isn’t just about us. Giselle loves you. Sunghoon trusts me. We can’t destroy them for something that might not even last.”
Jay’s jaw tightened, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “Do you really believe that? That this—” he gestured between the two of you, his voice trembling—“is nothing?”
You hesitated, your heart battling your mind, the truth caught in the space between. “I don’t know,” you finally admitted, your voice barely audible. “I don’t know what this is, Jay. But I know it can’t happen like this.”
Jay took a shaky step back, his face falling as the reality of your words sank in. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling deeply as if trying to compose himself. “You’re right,” he said quietly, his tone resigned. “This isn’t fair to anyone.”
You nodded, your chest aching as you watched the boy you loved wrestle with the same emotions tearing you apart. “We need to let this go,” you said, even though the words felt like knives in your throat. “For them. For us.”
Jay looked at you one last time, his eyes filled with sorrow and longing, before nodding slowly. “Goodbye, Y/N,” he said, his voice heavy with finality.
You watched as he turned and walked away, the distance between you growing with each step. You were hoping that he didnt look back, because he would have seen your legs give out, as you sobbed silently, your tears falling freely under the soft glow of the streetlamp.
Tonight was supposed to be the night you let him go, but as you stood there, your heart breaking, you realized letting go was far harder than you could have imagined.
But then, Jay did look back.
He froze when his eyes found you, crouched on the pavement with your head buried in your hands, your shoulders trembling. You weren’t looking at him, but the sight alone cut through him like a blade. He could feel your pain, raw and unrestrained, and it twisted in his chest until he couldn’t breathe.
He knew what this was. He felt it too—the tension, the connection, the pull. But if he felt it so deeply, why couldn’t he take the leap? Why couldn’t he let go of Giselle if every fiber of his being was drawn to you?
Jay knew the answer. Deep down, he was a coward. Afraid of the consequences, afraid of shattering the life he’d built, even if it meant suffocating the part of him that longed for you. He hid behind Giselle, behind the facade of comfort, because facing the truth meant risking everything.
But now, watching you fall apart, something inside him snapped. It was as if an unseen force dragged him back to you. His feet moved before his mind caught up, and suddenly, he was kneeling beside you, his voice trembling as he whispered, “What am I going to do with you?”
His expression was strained, filled with anguish as he reached for you, pulling you into his arms. The warmth of his embrace broke the dam you’d been holding back.
“I missed you so much, Jay,” you sobbed, your voice trembling and raw. “I’m sorry. I know I messed everything up. I complicated things for you, but I’m in love with you. I know you’re not mine to have, but it hurts so much, Jay. I love you, but I know you’re happy with someone else, and I—”
Your words dissolved into breathless cries as Jay tightened his hold on you. His arms wrapped around you as if trying to shield you from the very pain he’d caused, his own silent tears slipping into the night as he held you close. For that moment, the rest of the world didn’t exist—only the two of you, broken and vulnerable under the glow of the streetlamp.
Jay’s heart clenched at your words, each syllable carving deeper into the conflict he carried. He didn’t speak immediately, just held you tighter, his own emotions threatening to spill over as he buried his face in your hair. Your sobs echoed through the quiet street, raw and unfiltered, and for the first time in a long while, he felt utterly powerless.
“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice trembling as he pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your tear-streaked face. His thumb brushed against your cheek, wiping away a stray tear as his own eyes glistened. “I’ve missed you too. More than I should, more than I ever wanted to. You have no idea how many nights I’ve stayed awake thinking about you, wondering what it would be like if things were...different.”
The pain in his voice was undeniable, and it only made your tears fall harder. “Then why, Jay?” you whispered, your voice breaking as you searched his face. “Why can’t we—why can’t you—”
“Because I’m scared,” he admitted, the words spilling out before he could stop them. His voice cracked under the weight of his confession, and he looked away, ashamed. “I’m scared of ruining everything. Of hurting Giselle. Of losing you if this doesn’t work. I don’t know how to let go of her, and I don’t know how to let go of you.”
His honesty only made the ache in your chest grow. You reached out, placing a trembling hand on his cheek, guiding his gaze back to you. “Jay, you can’t have it both ways,” you said softly, your voice heavy with both love and pain. “You have to choose. And if you can’t, then maybe...maybe I have to make the choice for you.”
“No,” Jay said quickly, his hand flying to cover yours. “Don’t. Don’t leave me, Y/N. Please.” The desperation in his tone made your heart twist, but you knew deep down that something had to give.
“I can’t keep holding on to someone who was never mine to begin with, Jay,” you whispered, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “You’re you, and I’m… me. Can’t you see? You’re talented, warm, kind, gentle—and I’m a mess. Giselle… she suits you. She’s beautiful, patient, everything I’m not. You two look perfect together.”
You paused, your breaths shaky as you tried to steady yourself, but the pain in your chest only grew heavier. “I’m so tired, Jay. I’m tired of the nights I lie awake, wishing I could be the one in your arms. I’m tired of being afraid of myself because I want so desperately to be the one you look at with that gentleness in your eyes. I want to be the one who makes you laugh, the girl who loves you with her whole heart.”
Your voice faltered, breaking into a strained whisper as tears streamed down your face. “But I can’t. I can’t be that girl, Jay. I’ll never be her.”
Your sobs softened into quiet sniffles, the silence between you thick and suffocating. You couldn’t bear to look at him, afraid of what you might see—pity, regret, or worse, nothing at all. All the words you’d kept locked inside were now laid bare, and yet, the ache in your chest only deepened, the weight of your unspoken love threatening to crush you.
Jay’s chest tightened with every word you spoke, each one laced with pain, longing, and a finality that made his heart feel like it was being crushed. He reached out for you instinctively, his hands trembling, but he stopped himself, letting them fall to his sides. He knew he had no right to comfort you—not when he was the source of your pain.
“Y/N…” he began, his voice hoarse and broken. “Don’t say that. Please, don’t say that about yourself.” His eyes glistened with unshed tears as he took a shaky step toward you, though the weight of your words kept him from getting too close. “You don’t see what I see, do you? You’re not a mess. You’re—” He swallowed hard, his voice cracking. “You’re everything, Y/N. Everything I didn’t even know I needed. And I hate myself for making you feel like you’re not enough because you are. You always were.”
Your lips trembled as you shook your head, stepping back. “Don’t do this, Jay. Don’t say these things when you know you can’t follow through. You’re with her, and I’m… I’m not a part of that world. I can’t keep pretending like there’s a place for me in your life when all I’m doing is hurting myself.”
He reached out again, his hand hovering near yours before pulling it back, defeated. “I don’t know what to do, Y/N,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m so lost. I thought I had everything figured out, but then you walked into my life, and now—now nothing makes sense. I don’t want to lose you, but I also don’t want to keep hurting you like this. I don’t know how to let go of you, Y/N. I don’t know how to stop wanting you.”
You bit your lip, forcing yourself to stay strong even as his words tore you apart. “You have to,” you said, your voice steady despite the tears streaming down your face. “For both of us. You have to let me go, Jay. Because I can’t keep living like this. I can’t keep loving someone who’s never going to be mine.”
The finality of your words hung heavy in the air, and Jay felt his knees go weak. He wanted to argue, to plead with you to stay, but deep down, he knew you were right. He had been selfish, holding onto you while refusing to make a choice. And now, it was too late.
“Okay,” he whispered, his voice cracking as tears rolled down his cheeks. “Okay, Y/N. If that’s what you need, I’ll—I’ll let you go. But just know that I…” He hesitated, the words caught in his throat. “I’m sorry. For everything. For not being brave enough to choose you. For hurting you. For loving you when I shouldn’t have.”
You nodded, your chest heaving as you tried to steady your breathing. “Goodbye, Jay,” you whispered, the words barely audible but heavy with meaning.
And this time, when you walked away, Jay didn’t follow. He stayed rooted to the spot, watching you disappear into the night, his heart shattered into pieces he wasn’t sure he could ever put back together.
Maybe in another life, maybe in another universe, he would have been the one to hold you close, his arms your safest place. He would have been the one to press soft kisses to your temple, nuzzling his nose against your neck as though the world outside didn’t exist. He would have been the one to wake beside you each morning, his fingers gently brushing through your hair, his gaze filled with the quiet adoration of someone who’d found their forever.
He would have carried you on his back when your legs gave out, laughing at your complaints but never letting go. He would have cooked your favorite meals, waiting for the sound of your keys turning in the door because coming home meant coming back to him. He would have been the one to stand at the end of the aisle, his heart racing as he watched you walk toward him in a gown that made you look like a dream.
He would have been the one you said “I do” to, your voice steady and full of promise. He would have been the one who vowed to hold you through the storms and the sunshine, in moments of joy and in those of despair. For better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health—he would have been the one to love and cherish you until your very last breath.
In another life, in another universe, he would have been the one. But here, in this tangled mess of reality, he could only dream of the love that could have been.
Maybe in another life, Jay thought, the universe would have been kinder to the both of you. In that life, there would be no Giselle, no tangled strings of guilt and confusion, no walls of "what ifs" and "too lates." In that life, he wouldn't have hesitated. He wouldn't have second-guessed every decision, every step closer to you.
He could imagine it so clearly, almost cruelly vivid in his mind. You, standing in the kitchen in the morning light, your laugh filling the air as he teased you about something silly. The way you’d rest your head on his shoulder during quiet moments, your presence a comfort he never knew he needed until it was gone.
He would have been the one to carry you when life got heavy, to wipe away your tears and kiss your worries away. He would have known, deep in his soul, that he didn’t just love you—he belonged with you.
But this wasn’t another life. This wasn’t another universe. And in this one, he had made his choices, and you had made yours. The weight of that reality pressed heavily on his chest, a bitter ache he knew he’d carry for a long time, maybe forever.
As he stood under the same stars that had once seemed to shine so brightly for him, Jay let the tears fall freely, his heart whispering a silent prayer to a world that didn’t exist.
Maybe in another life, you would have been his, and he would have been yours. But in this one, all he could do was love you from afar, a love that would remain untouched by time but buried deep within his heart.
ahhh thanks for reading up till here everyone! let me know if you liked it! this fic actually hit very close to home while i was writing because i subconsciously inserted my own feelings towards jay in this LOL😞
this was truly such a beauty to read. when i say i want angst i meant i want gut wrenching, dagger in my heart twisted 173848943 times angst. this delivered and gave sm more. fic so good it revived my small tumblr drought to write my thoughts. the amount of times i had to put my phone down and talk to the abyss abt my feelings is insane. every single character was so beautifully well written and felt like real ppl w all their complicated human emotions, thoughts, and behaviors. so glad they didn’t end up together bc i was srsly fed up w jay by the end😭 OMG AND GISELLE??? the way her emotions and intentions were written was so beautiful. you really get to see how complex she is too. she wasn’t trying to be a bad person but was pushed to from all the resentment she felt for y/n. which again, is human!!! i love psychoanalyzing characters in fics LOL. i will end this here before i go insane but compliments to the author WOW
ahhh thank you so much for your kind words! It really means alot to me and im so glad someone manage to understand the characters just like how i wanted to portray them... i, myself got frustrated at jay too for being so indecisive LOL...
once again thank you for much for thanking the time to read this!!
i’m so glad to know you enjoyed my writing~ sending many kisses and hugs to you 🥰
but as of now, i don’t think there will be a part 2 for wonder wall because the fic was created as a reflection of how i feel towards jay because he’s an idol !
but who knows 😏 i might change my mind 🤓
i have a heeseung and sunghoon fic that are waiting to be released so you can look forward to that ! or… another jay fic ( spoiler : enemies to lovers)
anyways thank you for asking! stay safe and happy holidays (*^ω^*)
"You should try Park Me Up, " Jake suggested, his Australian accent stretching the words.
"fuck what up?" you asked, your voice unintentionally louder in confusion.
Jake stifled a laugh. "dude, Park Me Up. It's a guitar shop that sells vinyls, too. Heard the selection's pretty dope. Apparently, the owner's nephew curates it." He chuckled, rolling his eyes when he realized what you'd misheard. Danielle, sitting to your right, let out a quiet laugh at your expense.
pairing - guitar shop worker! jay x female reader
w.c - 22.4k
content: y/n is a reserved individual, who moves to seattle for university, where she meets a silver haired boy working in a guitar shop while looking for vinyls. ( mentions of members from other groups, or in enha)
warnings! jay is very very indecisive, mentions of cheating, kissing, heavy heavy angst, kissing, mutual pinning, slow burn. (lmk if i missed out anything...)
a/n: hello everyone ! i finally published my first full length fic after forever lol... It's christmas already and it should be a jolly fic but... im a sucker for angst... i hope you guys like it ! Happy holidays lovelies! Also thank you to my offline friend who proofread this for me, and thank you grammerly for correcting my grammers LOL.
You never expected yourself to fall for Jay. You really didn't. You never intended to be so completely enamored by the boy who worked at his uncle's guitar shop—the boy who always showed up in an oversized white shirt and gray sweats, hair falling messily over his forehead, yet somehow looking effortlessly perfect. The boy with silver hair that shimmered under the dim store lights as he strummed chords on a guitar he probably didn't plan to buy. But here you were, hopelessly in love with a boy who had a girlfriend.
Moving to Seattle had been a decision more practical than emotional, but it still hurt. You stood by the window of your tiny apartment, staring out at the city as it buzzed with energy, even on a quiet Wednesday night. The view was breathtaking—glittering skyscrapers against the dark sky, streets glowing with endless streams of headlights and neon signs. Yet, despite the beauty, there was an ache inside you. You missed home, the warmth of your family, and the familiarity of your old life.
Your parents hadn’t made the choice any easier. Both renowned architects, they had high hopes that you would follow in their footsteps. Seattle was where they had both studied, fallen in love, and started building their careers. To them, sending you here felt like a full-circle moment, a chance for you to experience what they had cherished so deeply. To you, it felt like being uprooted.
“You need this,” your mother had said, her voice softer than usual as she helped pack your bags. “A new city, new challenges—it’ll be good for you. Just promise me you’ll explore. Don’t hide away in your room with your vinyls all day.”
You’d reluctantly agreed, not wanting to disappoint her.
A few weeks had passed since school started, and to your surprise, things weren’t as bad as you’d feared. Your decision to major in architecture felt natural, like a familiar rhythm you’d always known. Growing up with two architects as parents meant you had a solid foundation, and the workload—while demanding—was manageable.
But school wasn’t the part that scared you. It was the loneliness you dreaded most. Your mom’s parting words echoed in your mind as you forced yourself to step out of your comfort zone, accepting an invitation from a friendly classmate named Beomgyu to grab lunch. That one small decision changed everything.
Beomgyu quickly became one of your closest friends, and through him, you met Danielle and Ning Ning, two of the most vibrant people you’d ever known. They, in turn, introduced you to their wider circle—Jake, Jungwon, and Sunoo. Jake and Jungwon were Twitch streamers, a detail you found both amusing and fascinating.
“Jake’s not even good at the games he streams,” Jungwon teased one afternoon as you all sat around a table at a cozy ice cream shop downtown. “He keeps dying and getting pity donations from girls who think he’s cute.”
Jake let out a dramatic whine, lips jutting into a pout as he folded his arms. “That’s not true! I’m good at some games.”
Danielle snorted, pointing her spoon at him. “You literally called Fall Guys a ‘competitive battle royale.’”
Jake turned to you for backup, his eyes wide and pleading. “You believe me, right?”
You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound bubbling out of you before you could stop it. Moments like these felt warm and grounding, like you were finally finding a place for yourself in this unfamiliar city
"Did you see? Daniel Caesar's new album just dropped," Jake whispered, leaning closer to you in class. His eyes flicked toward the front of the lecture hall, where the professor was mid-sentence.
"Never Enough, right? Yeah, I saw," you replied, keeping your voice low to avoid getting caught. "I think I'm gonna hit up a store to buy the vinyl. I need it for my collection."
"You should try Park Me Up," Jake suggested, his Australian accent stretching the words.
"fuck what up?" you asked, your voice unintentionally louder in confusion.
Jake stifled a laugh. "dude, Park Me Up. It’s a guitar shop that sells vinyls, too. Heard the selection’s pretty dope. Apparently, the owner’s nephew curates it." He chuckled, rolling his eyes when he realized what you'd misheard. Danielle, sitting to your right, let out a quiet laugh at your expense.
"Oh, right. Got it," you mumbled, quickly typing the shop's name into Google. It was only fifteen minutes from campus—definitely worth checking out.
Later that afternoon, curiosity got the better of you. With your classes done for the day and a spare hour on your hands, you decided to make the trip to Park Me Up. Jake's recommendation had piqued your interest, and you figured it wouldn't hurt to check out the shop.
The small bell above the door jingled softly as you pushed it open, stepping into the cozy, slightly dim space. The scent of polished wood and aged vinyl filled the air, and rows of guitars lined the walls, their polished surfaces gleaming under the warm light. In the corner, a shelf was dedicated to records, a modest but eclectic collection that immediately drew your attention.
You were flipping through the vinyls, scanning the neatly labeled dividers, when a voice startled you.
“Looking for something specific?”
You glanced up to find a boy standing behind the counter, his silver hair catching the light in a way that made it impossible not to stare for a second too long. He was wearing a slightly oversized white shirt over his grey sweats, the casual look somehow amplifying his presence rather than diminishing it. The silver haired boy was already looking at you curiously, albeit an amused smile on his face.
“Uh, yeah,” you managed, your voice almost catching. “I was looking for Daniel Caesar’s Never Enough. Heard you guys might have it.”
He smiled faintly, the kind of smile that felt effortlessly genuine. “Good choice. We just got a shipment in. Let me grab it for you.”
You watched as he moved to the back, his stride unhurried but purposeful. When he returned, he held the vinyl in his hands like it was something sacred, carefully placing it on the counter between you.
“Here you go,” he said, his voice soft. “This one’s already been pretty popular.”
“Thanks,” You hesitated before asking, “So, do you curate the collection here?”
He blinked in surprise before nodding. “Yeah, I do. How’d you know?”
“Word of mouth,” you said, shrugging lightly. “A friend recommended the shop. Said the vinyl selection’s great because of you.”
His smile widened slightly, and there was something in his expression that made your stomach flip. “Glad to hear it. I try to make it as diverse as possible. Let me know if there’s something you’re looking for, and I’ll see what I can do.”
You opened your mouth to say something, but the boy beat you to it. “What genre of music do you listen to?” he asked, his tone casual but curious.
You hesitated, feeling a little self-conscious. Some of your friends always teased you for having the music taste of a middle-aged woman. “Um, I’m not sure if you’d know them, but... Oasis? Red Jumpsuit Apparatus, The 1975—and, you know, the more basic ones like Frank Ocean, Tyler, Kendrick…” Your voice trailed off, and you missed the way the boy’s smile grew wider with every name you mentioned, his eyes lighting up with excitement.
“Oasis? No way. That’s my favorite band,” the silver-haired boy blurted, his enthusiasm catching you off guard. “Usually, there aren’t many people our age who listen to them. My friends always call me an old soul because of my taste in music. But finally—finally—I don’t have to be an old soul alone!”
He leaned back, grinning from ear to ear. “Honestly, I think I've met my match. I listen to almost every artist you just named. You might even be better at curating playlists than I am,” he chuckled, the sunlight streaming through the window catching on his silver hair and making his honey-tanned skin seem to glow.
Your cheeks flushed slightly at his enthusiasm, the way his eyes lit up as if he’d just stumbled upon some rare treasure. You hadn’t expected this reaction, let alone from someone who looked like they belonged on the cover of a magazine instead of behind the counter of a record shop.
“You're just saying that,” you said with a shy laugh, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I'm not that great at curating. I just... listen to what feels right, you know?”
The boy shook his head, his smile unwavering.“No, I mean it. Oasis is a bold choice, especially for someone who looks…” He trailed off, suddenly catching himself.
Your brow arched slightly. "Looks what?”
He cleared his throat, his confidence faltering for just a moment. “Looks like they'd be more into pop or something.”
You rolled your eyes, but there was no bite in your response.“Yeah, well, don't judge a book by its cover. Or a person by their playlist.”
His laugh was soft, the kind that made your chest tighten unexpectedly. “Fair enough.”
The conversation settled into a comfortable rhythm, the initial awkwardness melting away.
“Okay, I have to ask,” Jay said suddenly, leaning against the counter with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Favorite Oasis song?”
You hesitated, pretending to think it over even though you already knew the answer. “Don’t Look Back in Anger. Classic.”
He nodded approvingly, his grin widening. “Respect. Though, Live Forever might just take the top spot for me.”
You tilted your head, a playful challenge in your tone. “Strong choice. But I think Champagne Supernova could give it a run for its money.”
Jay’s laughter filled the shop, warm and unrestrained. “You’re good. I might just have to hire you as my personal music consultant.”
You were about to respond when the door chimed again, signaling another customer. Jay turned slightly to greet them, but his feet remained planted, standing in front of you with that wide, easy smile. To him, it felt like looking into a mirror—like seeing himself, just in the opposite gender.
You wanted to speak, to ask for his name, but the customer broke the moment, calling for his assistance.
“i've, um, got to go. See you around? ” he said softly, giving you one last glance. A dimple appeared on his left cheek as he smiled, the kind of smile that lingered, just like the glint of his silver hair catching the light. For a fleeting moment, it felt as though the world slowed down.
“See you,” you whispered to yourself, knowing he couldn’t hear you anymore. You carefully placed the vinyl back where you found it, a small smile tugging at your lips—because you knew you’d be coming back.
The soft click of the door echoed behind you, and the quiet hum of the city greeted you as you stepped onto the sidewalk. The night air was crisp, brushing against your cheeks, and for some reason, you couldn’t wipe the small smile off your face.
You couldn’t stop thinking about him. About his silver hair, the excitement in his voice when you mentioned Oasis, and the way he had lingered—just a little longer than he needed to—before walking away.
As you walked, your thoughts kept drifting back to the shop. To him. It was silly, really. You barely knew him. He was just a boy in a guitar shop. But something about him tugged at you in a way you couldn’t quite explain, as though a song you’d forgotten had started playing in the background of your life, soft and familiar.
Meanwhile, inside the shop, Jay was still standing behind the counter, his head tilted slightly as he watched you through the large front window. The orange glow from the streetlights traced the outline of your figure as you disappeared down the street, and for reasons he couldn’t quite articulate, his chest tightened.
It wasn’t often that someone caught his attention like that. Sure, plenty of customers passed through the shop, and Jay, ever the charmer, knew how to win people over with a smile or a bit of small talk. But this felt different. The way you spoke, the way you looked at him—like you really heard him, like you understood. It was rare. And it left a mark.
The sound of the other customer clearing their throat broke him from his trance. He turned back, hastily fixing his expression into something neutral, professional, but the remnants of his smile were still there.
“Sorry, what was that?” he asked, trying to focus.
The customer repeated their request, but even as Jay worked, his mind stayed far away, replaying your words, your quiet demeanor, the way your face flushed when you saw him smile at you. It was such a small thing, but it had stuck with him—how you’d looked so startled, yet soft and genuine all at once, like no one had smiled at you that way in a long time.
He wasn’t quite sure why it mattered. Or why it kept tugging at the corners of his thoughts, refusing to let go.
Jay’s hands moved on autopilot as he rang up the customer’s purchase, his mind somewhere else entirely. He thought about the way your voice had softened when you spoke about the bands you loved, how your fingers brushed the edge of the vinyl as though it were something precious. And the way you whispered—so quietly he wasn’t even sure he’d heard it—“see you.”
You’d meant it, hadn’t you? That you’d come back?
Jay blinked back into focus as the customer grabbed their bag and left, muttering a “thanks” on their way out. He let out a breath, leaning back against the counter, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck. This was ridiculous. It wasn't like he hadn't met interesting people before.
But you weren't like the others.
You didn't try to impress him, didn't try to force conversation. You were just... yourself. Unapologetically quiet, honest, and deeply sincere in that brief moment. It felt like a melody he couldn’t place but one he already knew by heart.
He ran a hand through his silver hair, glancing out the shop window to the darkened street. You were long gone now, but the image of you—standing there in the soft glow of the shop’s lights, lips quirking into that small, shy smile—lingered in his mind.
“Get it together, Jay,” he muttered to himself. But the truth was, he already knew he’d be watching for you. Waiting for that door to chime again.
And when it did, he wasn’t sure what would happen—he just knew he wanted to find out.
The soft jingle of the bell above the door announced your arrival. You stepped into the shop, your eyes darting instinctively toward the counter—only to find it empty.
He must not be working today, you thought, a tinge of disappointment settling in. Still, the familiar scent of old vinyl records mixed with the faint tang of guitar polish surrounded you, offering its usual comfort.
Then you heard it. Soft, deliberate strums of a guitar, playing the chords to “Beside You” by Keshi—one of your favorite songs. Curiosity tugged at you, and you ventured deeper into the store, following the sound.
The shop was quieter today. A few customers lounged in the listening area, sipping coffee or flipping through newspapers. As you rounded a shelf, your eyes landed on him.
The silver-haired boy sat perched on a wooden stool, a black-and-white guitar cradled in his lap—a Fender Stratocaster, you’d later learn, named Veronica.
You stood there, captivated. Every movement—the way his fingers glided along the strings, the way the melody hummed through the shop, the way his expression softened when he played—held you still. An unspoken feeling stirred inside you, unfamiliar and warm, as you watched him.
The soft strums of the guitar reverberated through the small shop, blending seamlessly with the faint crackling of a vinyl playing somewhere in the background. Your heart thudded softly against your chest as you watched him, completely lost in his own world—eyes low, brows furrowed in concentration, the slightest pout on his lips.
It wasn't fair. How could someone look so effortlessly perfect in such a simple moment? The silver strands of his hair fell over his forehead, catching the warm afternoon light filtering in through the shop’s windows. The oversized white shirt he wore draped lazily over his frame, the sleeves pushed up just enough to reveal his forearms as his fingers moved gracefully over the frets.
And the song—your song.
It wasn’t just the way he played it that captivated you, but the feeling in every note. It was as if he wasn't just strumming chords; he was speaking in a language that only the two of you understood.
You didn't want to interrupt. You didn't want to break the spell. So you stayed there, hovering silently between the shelves of vinyls, letting yourself get lost in the way he swayed slightly with the rhythm, the way his foot tapped softly against the floor.
Then, the song ended with a final, lingering note. The hum of the strings faded into silence, leaving the air thick and still. For a moment, he stayed there, letting his hands rest on the guitar strings, eyes still downcast.
And then he looked up.
The sudden shift in his gaze nearly made you flinch, your breath catching in your throat. His eyes—soft brown, filled with a quiet warmth—locked onto yours, and for a second, neither of you spoke. His expression flickered from surprise to something unreadable before that familiar smile crept onto his face.
“You came back.” His voice was soft, laced with both surprise and something else—something you couldn't quite place.
You nodded, a little breathless as you stepped forward. “I—I didn't mean to interrupt. You were playing Beside You. It's… it's one of my favorites.”
His smile widened just a touch, dimples peeking through. “Yeah? Mine too. Guess we really do have the same taste.”
He carefully set the guitar down on its stand—Veronica, you remembered—and turned toward you, leaning back against the counter. “What brings you in today? Another vinyl to add to the collection?”
You shrugged, trying to play it cool despite the nervous fluttering in your chest. “Something like that. I actually just—” you hesitated, unsure how to finish the sentence. “—wanted to see what was new.”
Jay raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You sure? Or did you come back to listen to me butcher more songs?”
You laughed softly, shaking your head. “I didn't know you could play the guitar, but You’re too good to butcher anything.”
His smile faltered just slightly, as if caught off guard by your words, but he recovered quickly, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, I've got a long way to go, but thanks. I’ve picked up guitar since i was a 5, it's quite normal if your uncle owns a guitar shop. "His voice was quieter now, a bit more vulnerable.
There was a beat of silence, but it didn’t feel awkward. It was comfortable, like the calm right before a storm, where something hung unsaid between the two of you.
“Want me to play something else?” he asked, suddenly breaking the stillness.
You blinked, startled. “For me?”
“Yeah, you're already here, so why not? Pick a song,” he chuckled, settling back down onto the stool with an easy smile.
You paused, considering. “What about… Oasis?‘Wonderwall’ ?”
His head shot up, eyes lighting up like a kid at Christmas. “You're seriously making my day right now.”
The shop seemed to fade away, the quiet hum of the world outside disappearing into the soft, unpolished notes of the guitar. It was just you, the boy with silver hair.
I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now.
Your breath hitched when his gaze met yours. It wasn’t just a fleeting glance this time. It lingered—his brown eyes holding yours with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. His lips curled into the faintest smile, as if he’d felt the weight of the words, too, as if the song were meant for this moment.
For you.
You gripped the edge of the shelf behind you, knuckles turning pale as you tried to steady yourself. The warmth flooding your chest, the flutter in your stomach—you’d never felt this before. Not like this. It wasn’t some grand moment in a romantic movie, but it felt just as significant. Like something you weren’t supposed to feel but couldn’t resist.
You wondered, then, if he felt it too.
The way his eyes softened every time he looked at you. The way he smiled like he was holding onto a secret you didn’t yet know. The way he played this song, one so simple yet so heavy, as if the lyrics were carving a space just for the two of you.
Your heart whispered things you weren’t ready to say out loud. Does he see me the way I see him? Does he feel this, too?
It felt like magic, the kind of moment that you’d replay in your head on sleepless nights, the kind of moment you’d tuck away carefully, afraid it might slip through your fingers.
The strumming grew softer as he reached the final verses, his fingers deftly strumming the last chords. But even as the sound faded into stillness, the look he gave you lingered, as though he, too, had felt something shift.
The silence between you was heavier now, filled with words neither of you dared to speak.
“ that was… really good,” you said softly, breaking the silence. Your voice came out quieter than you’d intended, almost trembling.
The boy’s smile widened, though his expression held something else—something deeper, more uncertain. He set the guitar down gently, leaning back slightly on the stool as his eyes stayed on you. “Thanks. I haven't played that one in a while.”
“Well, it didn't sound like it,” you replied, forcing a small laugh to break the tension that seemed to have wrapped itself around you both.
He tilted his head, his silver hair falling into his eyes before he brushed it away. “You really love this song, huh?”
You nodded, your fingers nervously playing with the hem of your sleeve. “Yeah. It's… special. Makes you feel things, you know?”
His gaze softened again, and for a moment, you thought he was going to say something—something important, something you weren't sure you were ready to hear. But instead, he smiled softly, a little wistfully.
“Yeah. I get that.”
And just like that, the moment passed, leaving you teetering on the edge of something unknown.
You both fell into a quiet that wasn't uncomfortable, but it wasn’t easy either. It was the kind of quiet where feelings settled heavy in the air, unspoken but undeniable. You wondered if he could hear how fast your heart was beating or if he could see the questions swirling in your mind.
“I just realized I don't even know your name. Mind gracing my ears with it?” the boy teased, his dimple deepening as he broke into a warm laugh.
He only has a dimple on the left side of his cheek, you thought to yourself, unable to ignore how effortlessly charming it made him look.
Your face flushed at his words, and you laughed softly, trying to play it cool. “It's Y/N.”
“Y/N,” he repeated, as if testing how it sounded. His grin widened. “Interesting name. I'm just plain old Jay. Or—if you're feeling formal—you can call me Jongseong. Most people just stick with Jay, though.”
He leaned casually against one of the shelves that displayed vinyls, crossing his arms as he watched you, the playful glint in his eyes never fading.
“Jay suits you,” you said quietly, the name lingering on your tongue like it belonged there. You glanced down at the vinyls displayed in front of you, fingers brushing absentmindedly over the edges, though your attention was nowhere near the records. It was on him—the way his smile tugged slightly higher on one side, the way his silver hair framed his face like it was meant to catch the light perfectly.
“Does it?” Jay mused, his tone teasing but gentle. “I always thought it was kind of boring. Plain. But I guess I’ll take your word for it.”
You laughed softly, shaking your head. “It’s not plain. It's…” You hesitated, meeting his gaze. “It's fitting.”
He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Fitting, huh? What’s that supposed to mean?”
You bit your lip, feeling the heat creeping up your face again. Why did he have to look at you like that—like you were the only person in the room? “I just mean… you don’t seem like a ‘Jongseong.’ You seem like a ‘Jay.’ Simple. Warm.”
Your voice trailed off as you realized what you’d said, your heart pounding in your chest. Warm? Did you really just say that out loud?
Jay’s dimple appeared again as he smiled, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. “Warm, huh?” He shifted his weight, leaning more comfortably against the shelf, and for a split second, it looked like he was trying to hide how flustered he was. “You’ve got a way with words, y/n.”
You looked away quickly, suddenly fascinated with the cover of a vinyl on the shelf. “I’m just being honest,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.
For a moment, the two of you fell into a comfortable silence, the tension settling like a quiet hum in the air between you. It wasn’t heavy, but it wasn’t light either—it was something else. Something unspoken.
Jay tilted his head, breaking the silence first. “So, y/n… what’s your story? You seem like someone who has one.”
You blinked, caught off guard by the question. “My story?”
“Yeah,” he said with a small shrug, his tone softer now. “Everyone’s got one. You don’t seem like the kind of person who just ends up here by accident.”
You exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of his question. “I… moved here for school,” you said, choosing your words carefully. “Architecture. My parents are both in the field, so it kind of feels like… I don’t know, like a path I’m supposed to follow.”
Jay’s expression softened, his head nodding slightly as if he understood more than you were saying. “That’s a lot to carry, huh?”
You looked up at him, startled by how easily he’d seen through you. “Yeah,” you admitted, your voice quiet. “Sometimes.”
There was no pity in his gaze, only understanding—like he’d felt the weight of expectation before too. “Well,” he said after a moment, his tone lighter, “for what it’s worth, it sounds like you’re doing fine. You’ve got good taste in music, so you can’t be that lost.”
You laughed at his attempt to lighten the mood, grateful for the small reprieve. “That’s your bar for success? Good taste in music?”
“Absolutely,” Jay replied, grinning. “It says a lot about a person.”
“And what does my music taste say about me?” you challenged, tilting your head slightly.
Jay’s smile faltered for just a moment, something unreadable flashing in his eyes before he answered. “It says you’ve got depth. You feel things. You appreciate what’s real.”
His words struck something deep in you, leaving you momentarily speechless. How could someone you’d barely met see you so clearly?
Jay cleared his throat, as if realizing he’d said too much. “Anyway,” he said, pushing himself off the shelf, his voice returning to its usual playful tone, “you’ll have to come back so I can keep quizzing you on music. I can’t let you win the ‘good taste’ trophy just yet.”
You smiled, your heart fluttering. “I’ll think about it.”
“You better,” he teased, his dimple reappearing. “Veronica and I will be waiting.”
“Veronica?”
He gestured toward the guitar leaning against the stool where he’d been playing earlier. “She’s temperamental, but she’s good to me.”
You laughed, shaking your head. “You named your guitar?”
“Of course I did,” Jay said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “She deserves it.”
You smiled as you watched him, your heart inexplicably light despite the unfamiliar feelings tugging at you. “Alright, Jay. I’ll be back to check in on you… and Veronica.”
“Looking forward to it,” he replied, his voice softening.
As you walked out of the shop, the bell chiming softly above you, you couldn’t help but glance back through the window. Jay was still standing there, watching you leave, a small smile resting on face.
You hadn’t gotten far when a familiar voice called out to you. It wasn’t hard to recognize—Jay.
Turning back in confusion, you spotted him jogging toward you, something tucked under his arm. As he got closer, you realized what it was: the vinyl you’d meant to buy on your first visit. Never Enough was nestled carefully against his chest, the moonlight catching his silver hair and making it glow like a halo.
Stopping in front of you, slightly out of breath, Jay held up the record and offered it to you.
“This is… for you,” he said, panting softly as he caught his breath. “Consider it a ‘nice to meet you’ gift.”
Your mouth fell open in shock, completely caught off guard. You stared at the vinyl, knowing you hadn’t paid for it. “I can’t,” you stammered, shaking your head and waving your hands frantically. “It’s too expensive, and… won’t your uncle beat you up for this?”
Even as you protested, the thought of his kindness sent a quiet warmth spreading through you.
That’s when it struck you how tall Jay really was. Looking straight ahead, you only met his shoulder. He leaned down, a teasing grin tugging at his lips as he whispered, “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
As quickly as he leaned in, he straightened back up, his playful expression unwavering. “Besides,” he exclaimed louder, puffing his chest out for effect, “I’m his nephew. What’s he gonna do? Fire his best employee and the guy with the best taste in the shop?”
He grinned, brushing a few stray strands of silver hair away from his face, the confidence in his voice making you laugh despite yourself.
You stared at him, stunned and unable to form a coherent response. The vinyl now resting in his hands, being held out to you like some kind of offering. It didn’t help that the teasing grin on his face had you feeling lightheaded, your heart hammering wildly in your chest.
“I really can’t take this,” you said again, though your voice wavered, betraying how much you wanted to accept it. “It’s too much.”
Jay tilted his head, the grin softening into something gentler, more sincere. “Y/n, it’s just a record,” he said quietly, though there was something in the way he said your name that made your heart stutter. “It’s not about what it costs. I just… I thought you’d like it.”
You met his gaze then, and the sincerity you found there nearly knocked the air out of your lungs. He meant it. There was no teasing now, no charm for the sake of charm. Just Jay—simple, warm, and standing in front of you with an earnestness that made your walls crumble just a little more.
Your lips parted, searching for something—anything—to say, but all you managed was, “Thank you.” The words were small, almost insignificant compared to the way your chest felt full and heavy all at once. “I really mean it.”
Jay’s grin returned, softer this time, and he placed the vinyl carefully in your hands. “Good,” he said, his voice quiet as if this moment was fragile. “Then it’s settled.”
You stared down at the vinyl, tracing the edge of it with your thumb as you tried to process the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. He didn’t have to do this for you. He barely even knew you. And yet, here he was, going out of his way to make sure you left with a smile.
“You’re really something, Jay,” you muttered, shaking your head in disbelief, though a smile tugged at the corners of your lips.
“And you’re really stubborn,” he shot back playfully, his dimple making another appearance as he chuckled. “But I guess we balance each other out.”
You rolled your eyes, clutching the vinyl closer to your chest as you tried to ignore the fluttering in your stomach. “You’re lucky you’re funny.”
“Lucky, huh?” he teased, tilting his head to the side as he looked at you. “I’ll take it.”
There was a brief pause, a moment suspended in time where neither of you spoke. The afternoon sun cast long shadows on the pavement, the light softening everything around you. For a second, you let yourself take in the sight of him—the way his silver hair fell just slightly over his eyes, the way his smile lingered even when he wasn’t speaking.
The silence between you wasn’t awkward, though it brimmed with something new. Something unsaid. You clutched the vinyl close to your chest, a smile tugging at your lips as you watched Jay recover his usual composure.
“Well,” you said finally, breaking the silence as you tried to steady your heartbeat. “I should get going before I take up your whole day.”
Jay smirked, his hands sliding back into the pockets of his grey sweats. “You say that like it’d be a bad thing.”
“Well,” he said after a beat, copying your words,“You better come back soon, okay? Veronica and I have more songs to play for you.”
You laughed, the sound light and genuine. “You really can’t go two minutes without mentioning Veronica, huh?”
“She’s a big part of my life,” Jay replied with mock seriousness, though the teasing sparkle in his eyes gave him away. “But don’t worry—I’ve got room for other important things too.”
Your heart stumbled over itself at his words, and you quickly looked away, pretending to be interested in the vinyl again. “I’ll come back,” you promised, your voice soft. “I’m starting to think this place might be my new favorite spot.”
Jay’s smile widened, a dimple peeking through on his left cheek. “Good. I’ll hold you to that.”
As he stepped back toward the shop, you watched him go, his silver hair catching the light one last time before he disappeared through the door. You stood there for a moment longer, clutching the record against your chest as a smile broke across your face.
You hadn’t expected to meet someone like him. Someone who made you feel seen without even trying. Someone who handed you a vinyl you’d wanted as though it were the easiest thing in the world.
Back inside the shop, Jay stood by the window, watching you disappear down the street with the vinyl tucked securely in your arms. His smile lingered, but there was a new weight settling in his chest—something unfamiliar, something he couldn’t quite name.
“She’s cool,” he murmured to himself, running a hand through his hair.
And as much as he tried to shake it, the image of your smile stayed with him, refusing to leave.
You found yourself visiting the record shop more often, stopping by every few days after classes, just to say hi to Jay. It always ended with you staying until the store closed, lost in conversation with him.
He greeted you with a warm smile every time, like he was anticipating your arrival. Time flew by when you were having fun. You’d pop in during the afternoon and leave only when the crickets began singing. It became a routine so familiar that even some customers started mistaking you for an employee.
Talking to Jay was easy. He seemed to understand how you felt, sharing his own experiences that mirrored yours. The more you talked, the more Jay couldn’t help but notice the way your eyes would light up when you found that you shared the same thoughts or tastes. It was like two puzzle pieces fitting perfectly together. Jay was a mirror image of you—until the conversation turned to ice cream.
“Mint chocolate tastes like toothpaste,” Jay deadpanned, making you laugh.
“Does not. That’s like saying matcha tastes like grass,” you shot back, rolling your eyes playfully.
“No, it doesn’t! I’d rather eat grass than have toothpaste for dessert,” he replied, his tone teasing, a grin tugging at his lips.
Your jaw dropped in exaggerated disbelief as you crossed your arms over your chest. “Oh, so now you’re a grass-eating expert? Should I grab you a handful from outside?”
Jay let out a laugh, the sound full and genuine, echoing through the quiet shop. “Hey, don’t twist my words! All I’m saying is, grass might be the superior option here.”
“You’re impossible.” You shook your head, though you couldn’t stop the grin tugging at your lips. It was hard to stay fake-mad at him when he looked so effortlessly charming, his silver hair falling into his eyes as he leaned back casually against the counter.
“Impossible but right,” he shot back, that dimple on his left cheek peeking out as he smirked at you. “You’re really defending mint chocolate like your life depends on it, huh?”
“Because it’s amazing and you have no taste,” you retorted, pretending to look insulted. “I feel bad for you. You’ll never know true joy.”
Jay clutched at his heart dramatically, wincing as if you’d just stabbed him. “That hurt, y/n. Truly. I think I need Veronica to comfort me now.”
You couldn’t hold back a laugh as you watched him make his way to the stool where his guitar sat. He grabbed her gently—like she was something fragile—before slinging her across his lap. “Fine, go cry to your guitar,” you teased. “She probably agrees with me anyway.”
“Oh, she definitely doesn’t,” Jay argued, already strumming a playful tune. “Veronica has class.”
You rolled your eyes, but your chest felt light, warmth spreading through you. Moments like these—full of laughter, teasing, and easy conversation—made you forget about everything else. Your classes, your homesickness, the weight of your parents’ expectations… none of it mattered when you were here, talking to Jay. It scared you how much you looked forward to these moments.
Unbeknownst to you, Jay felt the same way. The first few times you visited, he thought it was just a coincidence—that you were probably there for the records. But now… now, he knew better. Every time the bell above the door chimed, his head would snap up, hoping it was you.
You had become his favorite part of the day.
As he played soft, absent-minded chords on Veronica, his eyes flickered toward you. You were leaning against the counter, flipping through a box of vinyls, your expression relaxed and content. For a moment, Jay just watched you, his fingers faltering slightly on the strings.
“Hey, y/n,” he called out, drawing your attention.
You looked up, curious. “Yeah?”
He hesitated for a second, the words on the tip of his tongue. Something about how much he appreciated you coming here, how he felt like the days were brighter when you were around. But instead, he defaulted to teasing, a grin tugging at his lips.
“Promise me something.”
“What?” you asked, raising a brow.
“When I’m right about mint chocolate being trash, you’ll admit it publicly. Maybe we’ll record it and everything. Sound fair?”
You groaned, tossing your head back. “You’re impossible. Truly.”
He chuckled softly, the sound mixing with the hum of his guitar. “But I’m right.”
And for a while, you both sat in that moment—filled with music, banter, and the quiet comfort of knowing you weren’t alone.
Neither of you dared to admit it, but this routine you’d fallen into? It felt dangerously close to something more. But you couldnt shake that uneasy feeling when you looked at jay. He seemed like he was conflicted between telling you something.
As you perched on the familiar stool, your gaze drifted to Jay, who stood at the counter wrapping up a vinyl for a customer. His small, focused smile tugged at something deep inside you. The soft melody of Mac Ayres' Easy played in the background, and you found yourself humming along, lost in the rhythm.
You were so engrossed in the music and your thoughts that you didn’t notice Jay walking toward you until he was standing right in front of you. Startled, you jumped, nearly toppling off the stool.
Jay’s reflexes were quick. His hand shot out to grab your arm, the other steadying you by your waist. “Careful there. Someone must be deep in their feels, huh?” he teased with a grin, his laugh soft and warm.
The contact sent a jolt through you, like a spark lighting your nerves. His touch was firm but gentle, his proximity overwhelming. The scent of his cologne—a mix of cedar and wood—wrapped around you, intoxicating and grounding all at once. Your face burned as you tilted your head to meet his gaze.
“Yeah, it’s hard not to when the curator has such good taste,” you whispered, your voice quiet in the closeness between you. You felt yourself soften under his touch, curious to see how he’d respond.
Jay’s heart stuttered as he looked down at you. Your words carried more weight than they seemed, and something about the way you said them made his chest tighten. He cleared his throat, the heat rising to his cheeks as he tried to keep his composure. His hands lingered a fraction longer than necessary before he let go, his reluctance almost palpable.
“Well,” he murmured, his voice low, “you’re right, considering you picked this one with me.” His eyes held yours, glinting with something unspoken—something you dared to hope might be fondness.
You felt your heart flutter at his words, the shared memory softening the ache you’d tried so hard to bury. For a moment, it was just you and Jay, suspended in the quiet hum of the record shop, with the melody weaving around you like a thread tying you together.
“I know how to play this on the guitar. Wanna listen?” Jay asked, already moving toward Veronica without waiting for your reply.
You nodded, your eyes following his every movement. The way his forearm flexed as he picked up the guitar and adjusted it in his lap, his fingers effortlessly finding the chords—it was mesmerizing. The first familiar notes of Easy filled the shop, his playing smooth and precise, as if the guitar had been made just for him.
Halfway through the song, you couldn’t hold back your curiosity any longer. “Why haven’t I seen anyone else play this guitar?” you asked, breaking the gentle spell of the melody. “I mean, I know the rest of the guitars are free for trial and use, but no one ever touches Veronica.”
Jay chuckled softly, his fingers continuing to dance over the strings. The sound was warm and unhurried, perfectly complementing his low, quiet response. “Let’s just say I don’t like other people touching what’s mine.”
The possessiveness in his tone caught you off guard, sending a shiver down your spine. His words hung in the air, deliberate and weighted with something unspoken. When he tilted his head to look at you, his dark eyes lingering, you couldn’t help but wonder—did he mean the guitar, or was there more to his statement?
Jay's words hung in the air, the weight of them sending a spark of electricity through you. You blinked, momentarily stunned, unsure how to respond. His fingers never faltered on the strings, the melody of the song weaving around the quiet tension that had settled between you.
"Yours?" you repeated, your voice soft but questioning.
Jay smirked faintly, his eyes still on you, an unreadable emotion swirling in their depths. "Veronica," he clarified, though the slight upturn of his lips hinted that he knew exactly what his words had done. "She’s special to me. I guess I’m a little protective."
You nodded slowly, trying to ignore the way your heart raced in your chest. "I get it," you murmured. "She’s beautiful. Sounds even better when you play her."
Jay’s smirk softened into a genuine smile, his fingers continuing to strum as he looked back down at the guitar. "Thanks. But I think she just likes the company," he said, his tone light, though there was something unspoken beneath his words.
The melody shifted, and he began playing something softer, more intimate. You watched him, mesmerized by the way his hands moved effortlessly across the strings, the music flowing from him like a second language.
"You know," he began, his voice low, "there’s something about playing for someone who actually listens. Makes it... feel different." He glanced up at you, his gaze steady and vulnerable. "You always listen."
Your breath hitched, and you felt your cheeks heat up. "Of course I listen," you replied quietly. "You’re... talented. And music—it says a lot about a person. About what they feel, even when they don’t say it."
Jay’s fingers stilled for a moment, and he looked at you as if seeing you in a new light. "That’s true," he said softly. "Music has a way of saying things words can’t."
For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence filled only by the faint hum of the shop’s ambiance and the distant buzz of conversation. Jay’s gaze lingered on you, as if he were trying to decipher a melody only he could hear.
Then, with a soft chuckle, he resumed playing. "Guess I’ll have to keep playing for you, then," he said, his tone playful but his eyes betraying a hint of something deeper.
You smiled, your heart swelling despite yourself. "Guess you will," you whispered, wondering if Jay realized just how much his music—and his presence—meant to you.
That day, you and Jay exchanged numbers, texting each other occasionally to share songs from different artists. Things were going surprisingly well—so well that it stirred an uneasy feeling in your chest. How is this going so smoothly?
There was never a shortage of topics to talk about with Jay. One evening, you were in the shop again. Jay sat on the stool, absentmindedly strumming chords on Veronica, while you animatedly recounted your two-day camping trip to snag Bailey Zimmerman’s Religiously record.
Jay listened attentively, his warm eyes fixed on you, and that damn smile—the one that made your heart race every single time—resting on his face.
“You should come see my record collection sometime,” you said, your words bubbling with excitement. “It’ll blow your mind. I’ll even let you borrow some if you’re nice enough.”
Jay chuckled softly, his voice dropping slightly. “Yeah? Haven’t I been nice enough to you already?”
The air shifted. His words carried more weight than his playful tone suggested.
“Yeah, you’re really nice to me,” you mumbled, suddenly feeling self-conscious as you looked down at your shoes, your cheeks growing warm.
Jay leaned forward slightly, his voice softer now. “You know what? I’d love to—”
The chime of the shop’s door interrupted him. Startled, you turned to see who it was, only to meet the gaze of a striking blonde woman standing in the doorway.
“Seongie, are you done packing up?” she called cheerfully as she stepped inside.
She wore a denim dress, her blonde hair cascading down her back, paired with knee-high boots. There was an undeniable air of elegance about her—a confidence and beauty that made your stomach churn.
Seongie? The name echoed in your head. You’d never heard anyone call him that. Who is she?
You glanced back at Jay, your eyes wide with confusion. But he was already looking at her, his face lighting up with an expression you’d never seen before—soft, adoring, and unreserved.
“Hey, pretty,” Jay greeted, setting Veronica down and standing up to embrace her.
Your heart dropped into your stomach as you watched them. The warmth of the shop suddenly felt suffocating.
When they finally pulled apart, Jay turned to you, though his gaze never really left her. “Y/N, meet my girlfriend, Giselle. Giselle, this is Y/N.”
Girlfriend? The word hit you like a punch to the chest. Your mind spiraled, replaying every interaction with him, every shared moment. Of course, he had a girlfriend. How could someone like him not have a girlfriend?
“Hi, Y/N. Nice to meet you,” Giselle said politely, though her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. She studied you, her gaze curious, as if trying to figure out your connection to Jay.
You forced a smile, willing your voice to sound steady. “Hi. Nice to meet you, too.” But the strain in your tone betrayed you, and you cringed inwardly at how obvious it sounded.
Giselle’s attention shifted back to Jay, who began explaining how the two of you met. Halfway through his story, you blurted out, “I should go. It was really nice to meet you, Giselle. I can see why Jay would fall for you.”
You smiled, but the sadness in your eyes was unmistakable. If Giselle noticed, she didn’t show it, happily bidding you goodbye as she rested her head on Jay’s shoulder.
But Jay noticed. He saw the way your usual spark had dimmed, the way your gaze flickered with hurt when it shifted from him to Giselle. A pang of guilt tugged at his chest, but he quickly pushed it aside, chalking it up to excitement at seeing his girlfriend.
“Y/N—wait,” Jay called out as he watched you gather your things, already halfway to the door.
“Bye, Jay,” you whispered, your voice soft but resolute.
Jay frowned, the ache in his chest growing as he watched you leave. There was no see you tomorrow or see you again soon—just bye.
He exhaled deeply, his chest tightening as he stared at the closed door, your figure growing smaller in the distance.
The shop felt colder after you left, the faint jingle of the door chime lingering in the air. Jay’s eyes stayed fixed on the spot where you’d stood moments before, his jaw tightening slightly. He barely registered Giselle’s hand sliding into his, her cheerful voice breaking through the sudden heaviness in his chest.
“Who is she?” Giselle asked, her tone light, but the underlying curiosity was unmistakable.
Jay blinked, forcing himself to refocus. “She’s a regular,” he said casually, rubbing the back of his neck. “She’s really into music, so we hit it off talking about records.”
Giselle raised an eyebrow, her perfectly manicured nails tapping against the counter. “You seem close,” she said, her words measured. “She looked… comfortable here.”
Jay hesitated, sensing where this was headed. “She’s just a friend,” he said quickly, though the words felt strangely hollow as they left his mouth.
Giselle didn’t reply immediately, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly as if she were trying to read between the lines. “Hmm. A friend, huh?” She let the word hang in the air before shrugging, a smile spreading across her lips. “Well, as long as that’s all she is.”
But Jay felt the weight of her gaze, even as she moved to pick up a vinyl from the shelf. For a moment, he considered telling her more—explaining the connection you two had, how effortless it felt—but something stopped him. Maybe it was the way Giselle leaned into him, her confidence unwavering, or maybe it was the faint trace of guilt bubbling in his chest.
As they left the shop together, Giselle chatting animatedly about her plans for the evening, Jay found his thoughts drifting back to you. He replayed the look on your face when he introduced Giselle—the flicker of pain you tried so hard to mask. It had been subtle, but it was there, and it gnawed at him.
You, on the other hand, were trying to pull yourself together as you walked briskly down the dimly lit street. The ache in your chest was sharp, but you scolded yourself for feeling it. How could you have let yourself get so carried away?
Of course, Jay had a girlfriend—someone stunning, confident, and poised, someone who seemed perfect for him. What had you been thinking? That you, with your hesitant smiles and awkward jokes, could be someone special to him?
Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and for a moment, you thought it might be Jay. But it wasn’t—it was a message from Sunghoon, your classmate about an upcoming project. Letting out a shaky breath, you tucked your phone away and kept walking, refusing to let yourself look back toward the shop.
Later that night, Jay sat on the edge of his bed, his phone in his hand. Giselle had fallen asleep beside him, her even breathing filling the quiet room. He stared at the screen, debating whether to text you.
A part of him knew he shouldn’t. He had no reason to—no justification for reaching out beyond the nagging feeling in his chest that he couldn’t shake. But as his thumb hovered over your name in his contacts, he stopped himself.
Instead, he locked his phone and leaned back, staring up at the ceiling. Giselle shifted slightly beside him, murmuring something in her sleep, and he turned his head to look at her. She was beautiful, kind, and everything he thought he wanted.
So why couldn’t he stop thinking about the way your voice had trembled when you said goodbye?
And why, when he closed his eyes, was it your face that lingered in his mind?
It had been a month since you stopped visiting Jay at the record shop. Neither of you had reached out—no texts, no calls, no accidental run-ins. On the surface, everything seemed normal. You fell back into your routine: hanging out with your friends, spinning the same familiar vinyl records, letting music fill the void. But deep down, you knew it wasn’t the same.
How could it be, when your thoughts kept drifting back to him? The silver-haired boy with warm, expressive eyes. The boy whose dimple only appeared on his left cheek when he smiled. The boy with that small, barely noticeable mole between his brows, leaning slightly to the left.
You couldn't forget him, no matter how hard you tried.
Many nights, your thumb hovered over his contact, debating whether to message him. Maybe you could send a song—something by Mac Miller, perhaps—and pretend it didn’t mean anything. But each time, you stopped yourself.
He had Giselle. He was happy with her. And who were you to ruin that?
Sighing, you locked your phone and let it fall onto your bed, as the second verse of Daniel Caesar’s Valentina played softly in the background. The lyrics seemed to mock your longing, your hesitation, your inability to move on.
Across town, Jay was struggling with his own thoughts.
Every shift at the shop felt emptier without you. Every time the door chimed, his head snapped up, hoping—praying—to see the girl with the mole on her neck, the one that matched his birthmark, just on the opposite side.
You.
The girl who had the same music taste as him. The girl who loved mint chocolate despite his protests.
Jay knew it was wrong—so wrong—to be thinking of you while Giselle stood by his side. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop.
He remembered the way your eyes lit up when he handed you that vinyl, the soft smile you gave him as you watched him play the guitar. Those moments played on a loop in his mind, haunting him with what could’ve been.
His shoulders slumped every time the door opened, only to reveal someone else. You were nowhere to be found. And the shop—once his sanctuary—felt hollow without you there.
It was strange, this emptiness that had taken root in his chest. You weren’t just a customer or a casual friend. You had seen him. The real him. Not the charming, silver-haired boy everyone else knew, but the boy who could talk for hours about Oasis, who played guitar on quiet afternoons, who laughed at stupid arguments about ice cream flavors.
You had understood him in a way that no one else did—not even Giselle.
And now, you were gone.
Days turned into weeks, and Jay started to believe he’d never see you again. Maybe you hated him. Maybe you were angry that he hadn’t told you about Giselle sooner.
Or maybe he had imagined the connection altogether.
But the memory of the sadness in your eyes that day—your voice strained when you said goodbye—stuck with him. It made him wonder. Did you like me?
The thought filled him with equal parts hope and guilt.
Jay sighed, dragging a hand through his silver hair as he stared out the shop window. The world outside seemed as distant as the one he shared with you, the one that had slipped away before he even realized how much it mattered.
He wanted to see you again.
But did you feel the same?
The air in the record shop felt heavier these days. Jay had tried to distract himself, pouring his energy into curating the shelves, perfecting his playlists, and helping customers find hidden gems. But none of it filled the quiet void you’d left behind.
One evening, as the shop neared closing, Jay sat on the wooden stool where he used to play Veronica for you. He strummed absentmindedly, his fingers faltering on the chords. “Beside You” by Keshi came to mind, and he played the opening notes, but the melody felt hollow without you there to listen.
“Why does it feel like I lost something I never even had?” he muttered to himself, letting his hands fall into his lap.
You thought you’d have to get over Jay in your own time, quietly and painfully. But apparently, your friends had other plans.
“Y/N, we’re going to Park Me Up,” Jake announced after class, his voice brimming with excitement as you zipped up your bag.
You froze for a moment, trying to think of an excuse. “Oh, I, uh… I need to go somewhere. To buy cupcakes,” you blurted out, wincing at how unconvincing it sounded even to you.
Jake gave you a deadpan look before his lips curved into a playful pout, his puppy-dog eyes locking onto yours.
“Aw, come on, Y/N! Ning Ning needs our help picking out a gift for Beomgyu. His bandmates decided on a guitar for his birthday, and she’s clueless. It’ll be fun! Don’t be a party pooper,” he said, clasping your hand for dramatic effect.
Before you could protest further, Ning Ning and Sunoo appeared out of nowhere, already hyped about the plan. They didn’t even give you a chance to escape—Jake grabbed one arm, Sunoo grabbed the other, and Ning Ning cheerfully led the way.
“Guys, I really don’t think I should—”
“Too late, Y/N!” Ning Ning sang, ignoring your protests.
You sighed in defeat, letting them drag you toward the destination. Park Me Up wasn’t just any guitar shop—it was Jay’s guitar shop.
The thought sent a wave of dread through you.
The shop was just as you remembered it: cozy, filled with the scent of polished wood and vinyl records. The familiar bell jingled as the four of you stepped inside.
You scanned the counter immediately, your heart pounding, but Jay wasn’t there. Instead, his uncle, Peter, stood behind the register, greeting your group with a warm smile.
“Welcome in, folks! Let me know if you need any help. Oh, hey, Y/N, haven’t seen you around lately. Jay’s been chewing my ear off asking if you’ve stopped by. Pretty sure his neck must be sore from how much he cranes it looking for you,” Peter teased.
Jay? He’s been looking for me? Why? A flush crept up your cheeks, your heart racing even faster at the thought of Jay being nearby.
Your friends glanced at you in confusion as you hovered awkwardly near the entrance, trying to stay out of sight.
“Jay?” Danielle tilted her head curiously, while Sunoo snickered.
“Jay’s my nephew,” Peter explained, leaning casually against the counter. “He and Y/N here hit it off pretty well. She was here so often, I was even considering paying her for helping out around the shop.”
His warm eyes sparkled with amusement, so reminiscent of Jay’s, but his words left you flustered.
Jake’s brows shot up as he smirked at you, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Ooh, hit it off pretty well, huh?”
“It’s—it’s not like that,” you stammered, voice dropping to a whisper. “Jay has a girlfriend. We just had a lot in common, that’s all.” The word girlfriend cut like a knife, the ache in your chest returning.
Your friends didn’t press further, shrugging it off as they scattered toward the guitar section. But Jake lingered, his brow furrowing as he noticed you rooted in place. Without hesitation, he grabbed your hand, tugging lightly.
“Y/N, come on!” Jake urged. “You’re supposed to be helping!”
Just then, the sound of shuffling from the storage room caught everyone’s attention. A moment later, Jay stumbled out, brushing dust from his silver hair.
“Uncle, did you just mention Y/N? Is she here? I swear i heard her voice,” he asked, his voice quick and eager as his eyes darted around the shop—until they landed on you.
The world seemed to slow as your eyes met his, and your heart leapt into your throat. How was it possible for him to look even better, with the roots of his hair starting to grow out, giving him an effortless charm? You swallowed hard, almost breaking eye contact, afraid Jay might see through the carefully constructed facade you’d built to convince everyone—yourself included—that you were fine. Just like he always did.
His gaze shifted downward to where Jake’s hand still held yours, and you swore you saw something flicker in his expression. His brows furrowed slightly, but was it disappointment? Anger? Defeat? You couldn’t tell, but the uncertainty sent a shiver down your spine.
“Hi! You must be Jay. I’m Y/N’s boyfriend, Jake,” Jake said smoothly, his voice cutting through the silence, his blatant lie delivered with practiced ease. He was testing a theory, watching Jay’s reaction like a scientist observing an experiment.
Jay’s brow furrowed deeply, the tight-lipped smile he’d worn vanishing in an instant. In its place was a frown, his expression growing colder and more guarded by the second. His gaze shifted from you, but not before you noticed the way his jaw clenched and his shoulders tensed. Was he... jealous? Did this really affect him? The questions raced through your mind as you struggled to process the shift in his demeanor.
Your jaw dropped in shock as you turned to Jake, practically yanking your hand out of his grasp. “He’s not my boyfriend!” you exclaimed, frantically waving your hands in front of your chest as if to dispel the misunderstanding. “I don’t have a boyfriend. He’s just joking! Don’t take it seriously...” Your voice trailed off into an awkward blabber, cheeks flushed as you tried to explain yourself to Jay.
Jake stood to the side, grinning knowingly as he watched the scene unfold. His eyes flicked to Jay, and his suspicions were confirmed when he saw the subtle change in Jay’s posture. The moment you clarified that Jake was joking, Jay’s shoulders eased, and the tension in his jaw loosened, though his guarded expression lingered.
Jake’s grin widened. “Just wanted to see something,” he muttered under his breath, barely loud enough for you to hear, as he stuffed his hands into his pockets.
“Not funny, man,” Jay said, his tone attempting lightness but still laced with a hint of irritation. He glanced briefly at Jake before turning his gaze back to you, his eyes searching yours.
Jake shrugged, clearly unbothered. “Just testing the waters,” he said nonchalantly, giving you a wink. “I’ll leave you two to… whatever this is.” With that, he turned and walked back toward Ning Ning and Sunoo, leaving you alone with Jay.
Jay stepped forward, his movements hesitant, as if testing the waters. “Y/N,” he called softly, his tone laced with a mix of relief and uncertainty.
You stopped, turning to face him. “Hi, Jay,” you replied, trying to keep your voice even despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you.
“It’s been a while,” he said, his hands fidgeting in his pockets. “I… I didn’t think I’d see you again.”
You swallowed hard, your eyes briefly meeting his before darting away. “Yeah, I’ve been… busy.”
Jay took another step closer, the corners of his lips tugging into a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Busy, huh? Too busy to even text?”
His words hit you like a wave, leaving you momentarily speechless. “I thought…” you began hesitantly, your voice barely above a whisper, “I thought it’d be better if I stayed away. You seemed happy. With Giselle.”
Jay’s expression faltered, and he dropped his gaze to the floor, exhaling a slow, measured breath. “Yeah, I’m happy with Giselle,” he admitted quietly, his voice tinged with something you couldn’t quite place. “But that didn’t mean you had to stay away. We’re friends, right?” His tone softened as if he hoped that saying it gently might lessen the weight of the words.
Hearing him confirm his happiness with Giselle was like a dagger to your heart. You nodded numbly, biting your lip in a futile attempt to keep your emotions in check. But your eyes betrayed you, filled with the sadness you desperately tried to hide. It was a cruel reminder that the growing feelings you had for Jay would always be unrequited.
Life seemed to take away the one good thing you had just when you started to believe in it again. You knew better than to come between Jay and Giselle. You knew better than to linger in his life, where your feelings would only deepen, making it harder to pull away. But how could you not fall for him? How could you resist the silver-haired boy who made your heart race, who smelled like cedar and coffee, whose hair fell into his face as he played your favorite songs with that endearing focus?
A bitter laugh escaped your lips, masking the sound of your heart breaking. “I know I might not mean anything to you,” you began, voice trembling, “and you might not even care, but I don’t think I can stay friends with you, Jay.” Your words cracked as tears threatened to spill. “Because I know I’d just keep falling for you. And you have Giselle. I’m glad you’re happy with her. I don’t want to ruin the good thing you have in your life.”
Your voice dropped to a whisper, but the quiver betrayed the storm raging inside you. Jay’s eyes snapped to yours, his face softening as he registered the raw emotion you couldn’t conceal. You were on the brink of breaking, and both of you knew it.
Jay’s eyes widened as your words sank in, the color draining from his face. He took a small step closer, his hand twitching like he wanted to reach for you but stopped himself. “Y/N,” he started, his voice cracking. “It’s not… it’s not like that.”
You forced a smile, though your trembling lips betrayed the façade. “It’s okay, Jay,” you said softly, your voice laced with heartbreak. “You don’t have to explain. You don’t owe me anything.”
Jay opened his mouth, but no words came out. His heart ached at the sight of you—so vulnerable, so heartbreakingly honest. He felt like the worst kind of person, watching you lay your emotions bare before him, offering your heart only for him to crush it. And the worst part? He knew you anticipated his response. You always understood him too well, the uncanny compatibility between you two making it all the harder for him to let this moment pass.
But before he could say anything, you spoke again, your voice trembling with raw emotion. “I think…” you began, your tone fragile, “I think it’s best for us to just leave this as it is, Jay.”
Your words came out as a plea, each one pulling at his chest. You blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears from falling, but the strain in your voice betrayed how close you were to breaking. Sniffling quickly, you kept your gaze fixed on the ground, refusing to look at him. You couldn’t bear to see the pity—or worse, indifference—in his eyes.
“I wish you well, Jay,” you choked out, barely managing to suppress a sob as you turned to leave, each step away from him feeling like it might break you entirely.
Jay froze, the words lodging in his throat as he watched you crumble before him. He wanted to reach out, to pull you into his arms and tell you that you were wrong—that he didn’t want to leave things like this. But your trembling voice, laced with heartbreak, stopped him in his tracks.
“Y/N…” he whispered, his voice laden with desperation, as if searching for the right words to hold you there. His mind raced, trying to form an explanation, an excuse—anything to stop you from walking away.
But you shook your head quickly, a silent plea for him not to make this even harder. “Don’t, Jay. Please,” you interrupted, your voice trembling, your resolve wavering as the words hung in the air.
He froze, his throat tightening at the finality in your tone.
Jay’s chest tightened, the weight of your words suffocating him. “You weren’t wrong,” he said, his voice breaking. “You weren’t wrong about us.”
You offered him a sad smile, one that didn’t reach your eyes. “But it doesn’t matter, does it?”
He stepped closer, his presence warm yet hesitant, his hand hovering just inches from yours. For a moment, it seemed like he might take your hand, his fingers twitching with an unspoken yearning. But he hesitated, his hand lingering in the air, uncertain and desperate. It was as if he wasn’t sure if he had the right to hold onto you, to ask you to stay.
“It matters to me,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper, but the weight of his words carried straight to your heart. His gaze burned into yours, raw and unguarded, his emotions laid bare. “You matter to me, but not in the way you want it to be. ”
The vulnerability in his tone, the way his voice cracked slightly at the end, made your breath catch. You wanted to believe him, wanted to trust those words, but the pain in your chest reminded you of the boundaries that couldn’t be crossed. Still, his proximity, the sincerity in his eyes, made it harder to walk away.
Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you let yourself believe him. But the hurt was too deep, the scars too fresh. You knew you mattered, just not the way you wanted it to be. You took a step back, creating a physical barrier between you that mirrored the emotional one you were building.
“Bye, Jay,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you turned and walked away.
Jay stood there, rooted to the spot, watching you leave for the second time. He wanted to chase after you, to tell you everything he couldn’t put into words, but his feet refused to move. He could only watch as the person who had come to mean so much to him disappeared from his life, leaving him with a hollow ache in his chest and the echoes of what could have been.
For both of you, the goodbye felt final, even though your hearts whispered that it didn’t have to be.
Your friends exchanged bewildered glances, their confusion palpable, but you didn’t turn back. You couldn’t. With each step, the weight of your feelings threatened to crush you, but you forced yourself forward, knowing it was the only way to protect your heart.
“Hey, Jay,” Jake started cautiously, his voice steady but low. “What just happened?”
Jay’s gaze remained fixed on the door you’d just walked through, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. He couldn’t bring himself to answer. How could he possibly explain what had just transpired?
Sunoo sighed, placing a hand on Jake’s shoulder. “I think we should give them space,” he said softly, gesturing toward the door. “Let’s go check on Y/N.”
The group nodded in agreement, leaving Jay standing there, his silver hair catching the dim light of the shop. His uncle’s voice broke the silence.
“Jay,” Peter said gently, coming out from behind the counter. “You care about her, don’t you?”
Jay’s shoulders slumped, and he let out a shaky breath. “Yeah,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “I do.”
Peter gave him a sympathetic look, his brow furrowing in thought. “Then maybe it’s time you figure out what you really want. Don’t let her slip away without a fight, Jay. Not if she means this much to you.”
Jay nodded, but his heart felt heavy. He didn’t know if he deserved to fight for you after everything he’d put you through. But he did know one thing—losing you felt like losing a part of himself.
As the shop grew quiet again, Jay sat down on the stool, his hand instinctively reaching for Veronica. He strummed a few chords aimlessly, his mind replaying every moment he’d shared with you. The sound of the door chime echoed in the background, but this time, it wasn’t you walking through. It was emptiness, a reminder of what he had just lost.
Months had slipped by, yet Jay was still a ghost in your thoughts. You told yourself you were over him—that time and distance had healed the wound. But every now and then, a memory of his warm smile or the shared laughter over an inside joke would surface, and you couldn’t help but chuckle softly to yourself. It was fleeting, but the ache it brought lingered.
You convinced yourself you’d moved on. After all, you no longer visited the shop, no longer hovered over his contact late at night. But distance, as they say, often makes the heart grow fonder. Deep down, you knew your feelings for Jay weren’t just a fleeting crush or infatuation. They were deeper, more real than you wanted to admit.
On days when the ache felt unbearable, you found yourself wandering near the record shop. You told yourself it was coincidence, that it wasn’t intentional. But each time, your gaze would be drawn to the glass panel, and there he was. Sometimes he’d sit at the counter, lost in thought, his lips forming a soft pout. Other times, he’d strum Veronica on the stool where you used to sit, or move around the shop, chatting animatedly with customers.
And sometimes, just sometimes, it felt like he sensed your presence. His head would turn suddenly, eyes scanning the street. Your heart would leap, and you’d duck behind a pillar, pulse racing as if caught in a forbidden act. Surely, he hadn’t seen you. Right?
Eventually, you stopped. Sunoo, ever the voice of reason, had convinced you that spying from a distance wouldn’t help you move on. You listened. Or at least, you tried.
But Jay had noticed. Every time you came, he saw you—your wide eyes peeking around the corner, the way you hurriedly hid whenever he looked up. He felt a pull to step outside, to call your name, to close the distance between you. Yet, he held back. He told himself it wasn’t fair—to you, to Giselle, to the delicate balance of their lives. He was happy with Giselle—or at least, that’s what he repeated to himself.
So why did thoughts of you creep in when he wasn’t paying attention? Why did he catch himself searching for your laugh in the shop’s quiet, or remembering the way your eyes lit up when he played your favorite song? Could it be that he was falling for you too?
When he realized you’d stopped coming entirely, the tightening in his chest was unbearable. Did you finally move on? Had you met someone who played the guitar better than he could? Someone who shared your love for mint chocolate? The idea was suffocating, but he couldn’t shake it.
And for the first time in a long while, Jay wasn’t sure if he’d made the right choice.
One evening, Jay and Giselle went out for dinner, a rare chance to unwind amidst their busy schedules. After their meal, Giselle beamed, her eyes lighting up as she suggested, “Let’s grab some ice cream. There’s a new shop just down the block.”
Jay nodded, following her lead as they strolled into the cozy shop, the warm lights and cheerful atmosphere inviting them in. The server greeted them with a bright smile. “Welcome! Would you like to try our new flavors?” they asked enthusiastically, motioning to the chalkboard menu listing options in colorful script.
As Giselle scanned the choices, debating between strawberry basil and caramel pretzel, Jay’s eyes drifted over the menu absentmindedly. When the server turned to him, he surprised himself by blurting out, “I’ll have a cup of mint chocolate, please.”
Giselle’s head snapped toward him, a puzzled expression on her face. “Wait, mint chocolate? Don’t you hate that flavor?” she asked, her voice tinged with amusement and disbelief.
Jay froze for a moment, caught off guard by his own decision. The truth was, he hadn’t been thinking about himself when he ordered. He’d been thinking of you. Memories of your playful arguments over ice cream flooded his mind—how you’d stubbornly defended mint chocolate while accusing him of having the palate of a goat for liking matcha. He could almost hear your voice now, teasing and full of life, and the thought made his lips curl into a faint smile.
“Oh, yeah,” he said, trying to play it off casually. “Y/N used to love mint chocolate. She always said it didn’t taste like toothpaste. One time, I told her matcha was better, and she told me to eat grass instead.”
Giselle laughed softly, though there was a flicker of something in her eyes—curiosity, perhaps, or even unease. “Sounds like you and Y/N had a lot of… interesting debates.”
“Yeah,” Jay admitted, his voice quieter now. He didn’t elaborate, but as he took the first bite of the ice cream, a wave of nostalgia hit him. It was bittersweet, much like the flavor he once swore he disliked.
“I haven’t seen her around the shop lately. Did something happen between the two of you?” Giselle asked, her voice light but her gaze sharp, studying Jay’s reaction.
Jay’s brows furrowed as flashes of memory ran through his mind—your tearful goodbye, the way you’d pulled away from him, the words you’d whispered, so final and resolute. His chest tightened, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. He hated how those memories stirred feelings he couldn’t quite name, feelings that made him want to clutch onto them selfishly, as if preserving them for himself would somehow keep you closer.
“Yeah, uh… we’re not really friends anymore,” Jay said lightly, though his tone betrayed him. The seriousness in his voice, the subtle edge, told Giselle everything she needed to know. “But I don’t really want to talk about it.”
Giselle raised an eyebrow, intrigued but cautious. Jay wasn’t one to dwell on relationships that ended; he always kept his circle small, rarely letting people in. Usually, it was just his longtime friends—Heeseung and Sunghoon—who truly knew him. But you? You had broken through those walls in a matter of weeks. How had you done it?
Even Giselle, who had been dating Jay for months, had taken her time to chip away at his guarded exterior. Yet, with you, it seemed effortless. It gnawed at her—a quiet curiosity mixed with something she didn’t want to name.
Giselle studied Jay’s face, noticing the slight tension in his jaw and the way his grip on the ice cream cup tightened. It was rare for Jay to get so guarded, especially with her. She had always admired his calm and collected demeanor, but this was different. This was about you.
“You don’t want to talk about it?” Giselle repeated softly, her voice gentle but probing. “Jay, you know you can tell me anything, right?”
Jay exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair as if trying to shake off the weight of the conversation. He met Giselle’s gaze, his expression unreadable. “It’s not about not trusting you,” he said carefully. “It’s just... complicated.”
Giselle nodded slowly, though the curiosity in her eyes remained. “Complicated how?” she pressed, her tone still soft but laced with concern.
Jay hesitated, torn between the desire to keep the memories of you to himself and the need to reassure Giselle. “She... meant a lot to me,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, almost as if he were confessing something. “We connected in a way that felt different, you know? But it’s over now. She walked away, and I let her.”
Giselle’s brows furrowed at his words. “Different how?” she asked, the question slipping out before she could stop herself.
Jay paused, searching for the right words. “She just... got me,” he said finally. “In a way that didn’t feel forced or complicated. It was easy. She understood things about me that I didn’t even have to explain.”
Giselle’s heart sank at his honesty. She couldn’t ignore the pang of jealousy that crept into her chest, but she pushed it aside. “And what about us?” she asked, her voice tinged with vulnerability. “Do you feel that way with me?”
Jay’s eyes widened slightly, guilt flashing across his face. “Of course I do,” he said quickly, reaching out to take her hand. “Giselle, you’re amazing. You’re my girlfriend. This isn’t about comparing anyone to you. It’s just... a chapter in my life that I wasn’t expecting, and now it’s closed.”
But even as the words left his lips, Jay couldn’t ignore the hollow ache in his chest. Because while he might have closed that chapter, it didn’t mean he had stopped rereading it in his mind. And the more he tried to convince himself otherwise, the more your name lingered on the tip of his tongue.
You sat in the library with your project partner, Sunghoon, discussing how to split the workload. You realized that, despite his quiet demeanor, Sunghoon was actually pretty funny. He often described himself as a "loud introvert," and the more you got to know him, the more you agreed with that description. He gradually integrated into your friend group, quickly becoming close with everyone.
As school grew busier, you started pushing aside the feelings you had for Jay and focused on your studies. With Sunghoon, you managed to score a high grade on your assignment, leading you both to agree to partner up for every project from then on.
To celebrate the end of the school term, your friend group decided to take a trip to Rome, Italy. Everyone was excited to experience the breathtaking architecture. But, as always, life had other plans.
On your second day in Rome, Sunghoon suggested visiting a vinyl shop he had read about online. It wasn’t surprising; you’d come to learn that Sunghoon shared your love for music and had an appreciation for vintage records.
“I need to grab a gift for a friend,” Sunghoon explained as you both waited for a taxi. “He’s really into vinyls. Works in his uncle’s guitar shop.”
The mention of a guitar shop made you freeze for a moment, Jay’s face flashing in your mind. But you quickly pushed the thought aside. Rome was a big city; there was no way this could be connected.It had been a while since you'd last seen him or even spoken to him, and you couldn't help but wonder how he was doing. But the memory of him telling you that he couldn’t see you as more than a friend still lingered, and it made your heart ache even after all this time.
You were standing outside a café, scanning for a place to sit. You noticed a table with a guy sitting alone, an empty seat across from him. Something about the broad shoulders felt familiar. For a moment, you thought it was Jay, but then you remembered that Jay had silver hair, not black, and you doubted he would be in Rome. But you were completely wrong.
Summoning your courage, you walked over to the boy, tapping him lightly on the shoulder. You tried to sound cheerful, “Hi, I’m so sorry to bother you, but would it be possible to share the table? I’m just waiting for someone.” You flashed your best smile, attempting to appear friendly.
But as soon as he looked up, your breath caught. Sitting at the table with a book in hand was Jay, Jongseong. You gasped in shock, and his surprised gaze met yours.
His gaze shifted from confusion to surprise, and then to something you couldn't quite place—longing? Relief? Happiness?
"Y/N?" Jay's voice was filled with disbelief. "Is that you?"
"Jay? What are you doing here?" you responded, equally shocked. How was he in Rome?
You took a moment to take in his appearance—his silver hair was now dyed back to black, and he wore a pair of black-framed glasses perched on his nose. His outfit was simple: a black shirt, blue jeans, and Rick Owens sneakers, yet somehow he looked even more handsome. You couldn’t help but notice the other female customers in the café subtly glancing in his direction, likely drawn to his effortless charm.
Suddenly, the feelings you had buried for so long began to resurface—faster and more intensely than you had expected. You missed him. You missed him more than you cared to admit. You hadn’t expected to see Jay again, but here he was, in front of you, and everything about this moment felt overwhelming.
When Jay felt a tap on his shoulder, he was expecting it to be Giselle, ready to tell him it was time to go. To be honest, the only reason he was even in Rome was for the vinyls and guitar shops—he knew there would be rare finds, given how long some of the shops had been around.
But he didn’t expect to see you.
You were standing in front of him, wearing a sundress in his favorite color—green. The way you smiled brightly at him, only to pause when you realized it was him, made his chest tighten. You looked so beautiful in that dress, the fabric flowing all the way down to your ankles, making you look like something straight out of a fairy tale. Jay’s heart began to race as he took you in, unable to tear his eyes away.
His mind raced, thoughts colliding with the reality of the situation. How was it possible that after all this time, here you were—standing in front of him in Rome? The emotions he had carefully tucked away began to surface again, sharper than before. The feelings he had suppressed, buried in the quiet moments when he let himself think of you, were now resurfacing with an intensity he wasn’t prepared for.
“I–you–how?” Jay’s voice came out as a strained whisper, his words caught in his throat. He missed you, he truly did. It wasn’t right to feel this way when he had Giselle, but he couldn’t help it. Not when you were standing there, wearing his favorite color, looking so beautiful with the sunlight catching your hair. His heart ached, watching the way your smile faltered after you recognized him.
“I’m here with Giselle,” he said, his voice low, almost as if trying to explain himself, “She wanted to go on a trip.”
The way your eyes dimmed at the mention of her made a sharp pain hit his chest. He didn’t know why it hurt so much, but that wasn’t important right now. He needed to talk to you. He needed to know how you were doing, how school had been, how you were holding up. He wanted to tell you that he had changed his mind about mint chocolate, that he now secretly liked it, and how he couldn’t stop listening to White Ferrari by Frank Ocean because the lyrics reminded him of you. He needed to know if you had moved on from him, if you were okay.
Before he could say any of this, you spoke. “I think I should go. Sorry to bother you. Have a good trip, Jay.” Your voice was soft, and Jay could hear the pain you tried to hide, the yearning that lingered beneath your words. How much you missed talking to him, how much you missed watching him play Veronica.
“Wait—Y/N.” His hand shot out, grabbing your wrist gently but firmly, holding you in place as he stood up.
“Please don’t run away from me again,” Jay’s voice was softer now, but it trembled with vulnerability. The desperation in his words made his chest ache, and the way he looked at you, his gaze so open and raw, left no room for doubt—he needed you to stay.
He knew deep down it was wrong. So, so wrong. But in that moment, all he could think about was how much he longed to see you again.
“Jay? What are you—who’s that? Oh, y/n?” Giselle’s voice sliced through the tension as she neared the two of you, her footsteps faltering slightly as she took in the scene.
Giselle's voice rang out sharply, pulling Jay’s attention toward her. Her eyes, once confident, now flickered with something unsettling. As she got closer, the look of confusion and concern on her face grew. She took in the sight of Jay still holding onto your wrist, the gentle way his fingers were wrapped around you. His gaze was soft, almost pleading, something that made her heart twist. She could feel the weight of the shift in the air, the subtle change in Jay's demeanor, and she knew something was different.
The sight of him looking at you like that, so vulnerable and open, made her stomach churn with unease. Giselle had always been sure of Jay—sure of the way he looked at her, sure of the space he made for her in his life. But now, it felt like something was slipping out of her grasp, something she couldn’t quite define.
She knew about Jay’s past relationships—how his exes would beg him to take them back, and yet he never budged. Jay had always been laidback, never one to push things or chase anyone. He’d let things happen naturally, even if that meant moving on when things got tough. But this? This was different.
As she studied you, her gaze softened just a little, but it was enough for you to feel the shift. She could tell by the way you carried yourself that there was more to your relationship with Jay than just a casual meeting. There was history in the way he held your wrist, in the way his eyes searched yours for something he seemed to have lost. It wasn’t hard to see it now. Giselle had been with Jay for long enough to know the subtleties of his body language, but she had never seen him like this. Never seen him plead with anyone.
The jealousy bubbled up in her chest, rising faster than she could control it. She hated feeling like this, but she couldn’t stop it. The effortless way you had him wrapped around your finger was something she could never seem to achieve. No matter how hard she tried to get close to him, how much effort she put into learning about his music, his favorite bands, his quirks—Jay had always been a little distant, a little elusive, like he was holding something back.
But with you? It was different. The connection was palpable, even if it was unspoken. You had always been able to reach him in ways she couldn’t, and the sight of him wanting to talk to you, to stay with you, made her feel invisible.
As Giselle’s gaze turned bitter, she watched Jay’s grip on your wrist loosen, his hand dropping back to his side, defeated. She saw you step back, but the look in your eyes—mirroring Jay’s longing—was all the confirmation she needed. You weren’t just infatuated with her boyfriend; you were in love with him. You were in love with Jay.
“Y/n, what a coincidence!”
Giselle’s smile was tight, laced with an air of false cheerfulness as she greeted you. The subtle intertwining of her fingers with Jay’s was intentional— a clear display of ownership, a silent message that she wasn’t going anywhere. She wanted you to see it, wanted you to feel the distance between you and Jay, wanted you to know that no matter the history, the connection, or the lingering feelings that might still exist, Jay was hers. And she would make sure you understood that.
Jay’s fingers curled against hers, a motion so small, yet filled with so much meaning. Giselle wasn’t sure if it was a silent reassurance for her or a subtle signal to her, telling her not to overstep, not to push too far. He wasn’t looking at her as much as he was looking at you—his gaze was distant, almost apologetic, as though there was a silent conversation going on between the three of you without words. But Giselle was determined to play her part, to hold onto what she thought was hers.
She watched you, her eyes narrowing just slightly, noticing the way your gaze flickered to their intertwined hands, the way your lips pressed into a thin line as the sadness in your eyes became undeniable. For a moment, Giselle felt a flicker of guilt. She could see it in your eyes—the resignation, the hurt, the unspoken words. But that flicker was fleeting, quickly buried beneath a layer of pride and possessiveness.
She watched your expression falter, the realization hitting that the distance between you and Jay was no longer something you could ignore. The subtle disappointment in your face was enough for her to feel a cruel satisfaction. It was like the pieces of a puzzle falling into place. Giselle wasn’t stupid—she could read the way Jay’s body language changed when he was around you, the way his eyes lingered a little too long, the way his tone softened. She could feel it now—the same undercurrent of something that had once been hers. And she wasn’t about to let that slip away without a fight.
The quiet ache in her chest was still there, but it was drowned out by the heat of her jealousy, her insecurity, her need to win. And if that meant pushing you to your breaking point, to make you feel as small and as invisible as possible, then she was willing to do whatever it took. You weren’t going to be the one to take him away. Not after all the effort she had put in to build her life with him.
As Giselle turned her head to kiss Jay on the lips, she heard the small gasp escape from you, and in that moment, she knew she had won.
Your heart shattered, watching Giselle kiss Jay. You wished it could be you, to hold his hand, to feel his arms around you, to feel his lips against yours. But that would never happen, not when all Jay saw you as was a friend. You wanted to turn and walk away, but the ache in your chest kept you rooted to the ground, helplessly watching the scene before you.
Silently, you prayed for someone—anyone—to pull you from the situation. It felt like the universe answered your silent plea when Sunghoon arrived.
“Y/n, let’s go—Jay?” Sunghoon’s voice called out, confusion creeping into his tone as he noticed Jay standing in front of you.
“Hoon?” Jay responded, just as confused, wondering how you and Sunghoon knew each other.
“What are you doing here?” Both of them asked in unison.
“I’m here with Giselle for a holiday. You? How’d you know Y/n?” Jay cleared his throat, trying to keep things lighthearted, though his voice held an edge of protectiveness that Giselle quickly noticed.
Sunghoon glanced back and forth between you and Jay before offering Giselle a polite smile in greeting.
“You guys know each other? Y/n, that’s the friend I told you about who works at a guitar shop. That’s Jay,” Sunghoon explained, oblivious to the tension in the air.
Ah, so they were friends.
Before anyone could say another word, Giselle cut through the silence, her voice a little too bright. “Oh my god, are you guys dating? Jay, look at their matching bracelet! It’s so cute. Should we get one too?” She gestured toward the friendship bracelet that Jungwon had made your whole friend group get, but since the others weren’t around, it made it look like you and Sunghoon were a couple.
Jay’s breath hitched. Were you dating Sunghoon now? How did he not know about this? Sunghoon had never mentioned anything about you when they hung out. Why were you alone with him?
You wanted to explain, to deny the accusation, because it felt wrong to even entertain the thought of being with someone other than Jay. But as your eyes locked with Giselle’s, she gave you a look that made it clear what she was trying to do. You could feel the guilt washing over you. No matter how hard you tried to distance yourself from Jay, the pull was still there.
So, with a heavy heart, you nodded and whispered, “Yeah, we’ve been dating for a while now. We’re in the same class, and we got closer.” You rushed the words out, hoping they sounded convincing.
Sunghoon looked down at you, his brow furrowing in confusion, but he knew better than to expose your lie in front of everyone now. He played along, extending his hand to hold yours.
“Sorry I didn’t tell you guys sooner. I just wanted to find the right time to properly introduce her,” Sunghoon lied smoothly, glancing at Jay.
The weight of the lie you just told settled heavily in your chest. Every word felt like a betrayal, not just to Jay, but to yourself. You could see the confusion flicker in his eyes, the way his lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to ask more, to understand, but he couldn’t. Instead, he swallowed whatever questions he had, and his gaze drifted to Sunghoon, his brows furrowed.
Giselle, on the other hand, was smiling too brightly. She was the one who had won, the one who had forced your hand. Her expression was smug, satisfied as she watched the situation unfold. When you nodded and agreed with her assumption, it was like she had claimed her victory. The small, almost imperceptible twitch in Jay's expression wasn’t enough to make her question her dominance. Instead, she looked between the two of you, a thin veil of sweetness hiding the bitterness she felt beneath the surface.
Jay couldn’t look at you directly. He turned to Sunghoon, his voice casual, yet there was a hint of uncertainty in it. "I didn’t know you two were... close," he said, the words like they were heavier than they sounded.
You couldn’t help but feel like you were suffocating. Every part of you wanted to reach out to Jay, to tell him the truth, to explain that you never intended for this to happen. That it wasn’t about Sunghoon at all. But Giselle’s gaze held you firmly in place, daring you to break, daring you to unravel.
Sunghoon’s hand on yours felt oddly comforting, but it couldn’t block out the ache in your chest. He squeezed your hand, the pressure there like a silent reassurance. He had always been protective, always there for you when you needed someone. But even in this moment, his presence felt like it wasn’t enough to shield you from the heaviness of the lie. The guilt gnawed at you, the burden of keeping up this façade pulling you further away from the truth.
"Right," Jay said finally, his voice quieter now. He gave a small nod, but it was clear that something was weighing on him. His gaze flickered back to you briefly, but you couldn’t meet his eyes. You couldn’t bear to.
Giselle leaned in a little closer to Jay, her fingers tightening around his. "Well, if you’re all set, I think we should go, baby. We have a lot of things to do, don’t we?" Her tone was overly sweet, but it cut through the tension like a knife. She was reminding everyone who Jay was with, reminding you where you stood.
You nodded, your heart sinking deeper into your chest. "Yeah, you should go. I should go too," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.
Sunghoon gave you a gentle nudge, his thumb brushing against the back of your hand, and you took a step away, trying to escape the suffocating atmosphere. But as you turned away, you caught one last glimpse of Jay—his face unreadable, his body tense. He was still holding onto something, still fighting the pull between you and Giselle, between what was real and what had to be hidden.
You turned your back before your emotions could get the best of you, walking away with Sunghoon by your side. But even as you put distance between yourself and that moment, you knew the lie you had told wouldn’t just fade. It was going to hang over you, a shadow you wouldn’t be able to outrun. And Jay? Well, you had no idea where things stood with him anymore. But you knew one thing for sure—everything had just become so much more complicated.
“What was that?” Sunghoon asked softly once you were out of sight of the couple.
“I didn’t know you two were friends,” you mumbled, your gaze fixed on the ground. “I met Jay when I visited the guitar shop he worked at. We got along really well, and I...” You hesitated, your voice faltering. Sunghoon’s reassuring nod gave you the courage to continue.
“And I fell for him,” you admitted quietly. “But then I found out he was dating Giselle. I tried to move on, Sunghoon. I really did. But now, seeing him here in Rome... it’s like all those feelings are coming back, stronger than before.”
Your voice dropped to a near-whisper, trembling with emotion. “I think I’m in love with him, Sunghoon. But I can’t have him, and it hurts so much.”
Sunghoon stopped walking, his expression serious as he took in your words. He didn't interrupt, letting you speak your heart, and when you finished, there was a long pause. You could feel the weight of the silence between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.
He let out a quiet sigh before looking at you with understanding eyes, his tone soft. “I had no idea you felt that way about Jay,” he said slowly. “I could tell something was off, but I didn’t know it went this deep. You don’t have to carry this burden alone, Y/n.”
You looked up at him, the vulnerability in your eyes showing the rawness of your feelings. "I feel so stupid," you admitted, "for letting myself fall for someone who’s already with someone else. And now I don’t know what to do. I can’t just… turn it off. But seeing him with Giselle, holding her hand, it was like a slap in the face."
Sunghoon’s expression softened, his voice firm and caring. “You’re not stupid, Y/n. Love isn’t something you can control. You can’t just turn it off because it’s inconvenient. And I know it hurts to see him with her, but you have to remember that his relationship with Giselle doesn’t define you. You deserve someone who sees you the way you see them, someone who won’t make you feel like second place.”
You closed your eyes, the weight of his words settling in. You wanted so badly to be that person for Jay, but the reality of the situation made it feel impossible.
“I know,” you whispered. “But it doesn’t change how I feel.”
“I get it,” Sunghoon replied quietly. “And you’re allowed to feel that way. But you have to focus on healing, Y/n. If you keep holding onto something that isn’t yours, it’s only going to hurt more in the long run.” He paused, watching you carefully. “You deserve someone who’s going to choose you, not someone who’s already made their choice.”
Your chest tightened as Sunghoon’s words echoed in your mind. You nodded slowly, but a part of you still longed for something that seemed so far out of reach.
“I don’t know if I can move on from him, Sunghoon,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper.
Sunghoon gently squeezed your hand. “You don’t have to right away. But take it one day at a time. You’ll get through this, Y/n. And no matter what happens, I’m here for you, okay?”
You gave him a small, grateful smile, the first one in what felt like a long time. "Thank you, Hoon. I really needed to hear that."
Jay couldn’t focus on anything Giselle was saying because his thoughts were consumed by you: the way you looked in that green dress, the brightness of your smile. He had always thought he was good at making decisions, at choosing the right path. But sitting alone in a café in Rome, he realized that when it came to you, he didn’t even know what the right thing was anymore.
“Are you falling for her?” Giselle’s voice broke through his thoughts, sharp and accusing. She stared at him, waiting for an answer.
Usually, Jay would have shaken his head defensively, pouring extra effort into reassuring her—just as he always did when she questioned his feelings. But this time, he couldn’t.
When Jay started dating Giselle, he thought she was the one. He pictured himself ten years down the road, marrying her, starting a family. That vision had seemed so clear and solid. But now, everything was blurry. Everything was you.
His head hung low in shame and guilt. He couldn’t bring himself to meet her gaze or deny it. He didn’t want to lie to himself anymore, and he didn’t want to lie to Giselle either.
The sight of Jay’s silence, his lowered head, shattered something inside Giselle. She felt her heart plummet, realizing what he wasn’t saying aloud—that he was starting to fall for someone else, and it was happening right in front of her eyes.
Hurt and sadness flickered across her face as she looked at him. She wasn’t ready to let him go. Not yet. She had loved him dearly and used to feel so secure in their relationship. She never had to question his loyalty or love. Jay had always been kind, warm, respectful—a man anyone would admire. He had been her perfect match.
But then you came into his life, and everything changed. You unraveled their relationship without even trying. She could see it in the way Jay’s face lit up when he talked about you, in the private jokes he’d share that only the two of you could understand. Even when they were out together, he would somehow bring you up.
There were nights when insecurity gnawed at her, especially when she noticed how his shoulders slumped as if he were expecting someone else to walk through the door—someone who wasn’t her. She knew, deep down, that he was looking for you.
Frustration and anger consumed her, and eventually, those feelings overwhelmed her guilt. She sought solace elsewhere. Intak had been a distraction, a way to fill the void left by Jay’s drifting attention. Initially, she felt guilty about going out with Intak while still with Jay, but over time, she convinced herself it wasn’t her fault. It was your fault.
You had turned Jay’s head. You had ruined what they had. And now, standing there, she could feel her anger boiling over, fueled by the bitterness of knowing she had been losing him long before this moment.
“Giselle…” he finally murmured, his voice low and uneven. He looked up, and the heartbreak in her eyes made his chest tighten painfully. “I—I don’t know what to say.”
Jay felt the weight of Giselle’s silence as it stretched between them, the tension thick and suffocating. He could feel her gaze boring into him, searching for answers he wasn’t ready to give. He didn’t have the courage to look at her, his shame tethering him to the ground, keeping his eyes fixed on the polished table in front of him.
The truth was messy, tangled in emotions he didn’t want to acknowledge. He knew it wasn’t fair to Giselle, and he hated himself for it. She didn’t deserve this—not the doubt, not the hesitation, not the betrayal that lingered unspoken between them.
Giselle let out a shaky breath, her hands clenched into fists on her lap. “Do you even realize what you’ve done to me, Jay? Do you know how hard I’ve fought for us, for this relationship, while you—” Her voice broke again, and she took a moment to steady herself. “While you were busy thinking about her?”
Jay flinched at the accusation, the raw truth cutting deeper than he expected. He wanted to deny it, to tell her that it wasn’t like that, but he couldn’t. He didn’t have the right to argue when he knew she was right.
Her words hung heavy in the air, and Jay felt like he couldn’t breathe. He wanted to say something, anything, to make it better, but every word felt hollow, insincere. He could only sit there, his mind racing with thoughts of you, of Giselle, of the tangled mess he had created.
“Do you love her?” Giselle asked suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Jay froze, the question hitting him like a punch to the gut. Love? The word echoed in his mind, stirring up feelings he wasn’t ready to confront. He didn’t know how to answer. All he knew was that when he thought of you, his heart felt full and aching all at once, and the thought of losing you—of never seeing you again—made it hard to breathe.
“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice cracking. “But I think…I think I could.”
Giselle’s breath hitched, and she stood abruptly, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. “I can’t do this right now,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. She grabbed her bag and stormed out of the café, leaving Jay sitting there, alone and drowning in the weight of his guilt and confusion.
For the first time, he wondered if he’d already lost everything he thought he wanted—and if you were the one he’d been searching for all along.
Jay watched Giselle’s silhouette disappear into the distance, a heavy weight settling in his chest. He should feel relief, should focus on being the boyfriend she deserved—but his thoughts were tangled, knotted around you. If he truly loved Giselle, there wouldn’t be room for this ache, this restless longing that clawed at him every time he thought of you.
You weren’t his. You never were. And now you were with Sunghoon, his best friend. It should have been easy to let you go, to convince himself that you belonged to someone else. But watching you walk away again felt like someone had ripped a piece of him out, leaving behind a hollow that pulsed with a dull, relentless pain.
Jay told himself he needed to stop. Stop complicating things, stop dreaming of something that could never be. Maybe you were always destined to be a "what if," a fleeting possibility that would haunt him for years to come. He owed it to Giselle to be better, to finally close the door on these feelings. But before he could force himself to let go, he needed to see you one last time.
Later that night, just as you were trying to convince yourself to sleep, your phone buzzed. The screen lit up with a message from Jay.
“Hey, can we talk?”
Your chest tightened. You stared at the words, your hands trembling as you debated your response. Another text followed almost immediately:
“Please.”
The desperation in that one word hit you like a punch to the gut. You wanted to say no, to protect yourself, to end this painful cycle before it broke you completely. But what right did you have to talk to Jay? You weren’t friends, weren’t lovers. You were barely even anything at all anymore.
Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, the tears already falling as you typed:
“Jay, we can’t. This isn’t right. Please don’t make this harder than it already is. We’re both happy. Maybe it’s time to put an end to this.”
You stared at the message, knowing how false it was. Happy? How could you call this agony happiness? The boy you loved was in someone else’s arms, and yet here you were, lying to him and to yourself.
The moment you hit send, your phone rang. Jay’s name flashed on the screen, and your heart lurched violently. You answered, your voice barely above a whisper.
“Hello?”
“Y/N, I’m— I’m downstairs. At your hotel,” Jay’s voice came through, rushed and uneven, like he was struggling to breathe. “I asked Sunghoon. I’m sorry, but I need to see you. Just for a while… please?”
His words were frantic, pleading. You could hear the urgency, the raw edge to his voice that shattered what little resolve you had left.
“I’ll wait until you come down,” he added, his voice softer now, almost broken, before hanging up.
You gripped your phone tightly, your heart a storm of emotions you couldn’t contain. You hated him for doing this to you, for making it impossible to stay away. But more than that, you hated yourself for never being able to say no to him. Jay was your weakness, your undoing. He was the boy who had stolen your heart so effortlessly and left you with nothing but pain in its place.
Before you knew it, your feet carried you out the door, down the elevator, and into the night. Each step felt heavier than the last, the weight of your emotions pressing down on you.
When you reached the street, you saw him immediately. He was leaning against the wall, head hung low, his hands nervously twisting the jacket he held. As you approached, trying to keep your steps quiet, his head snapped up, his eyes finding yours instantly.
For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence between you felt deafening, loaded with everything you couldn’t say. The world around you faded, the hum of the city dimming as the two of you stood there, suspended in time.
The soft glow of the streetlamp illuminated his face, highlighting the tension in his jaw and the storm in his eyes. He looked at you like you were both the answer to every question and the reason for every problem. And you hated how much you wanted to fall apart right there, in front of him, just to feel his arms catch you.
But you knew better. This was a game you could never win, and yet here you were, ready to lose all over again.
Before you could even process what was happening, Jay closed the distance between you, his hands cradling your face with a mix of urgency and tenderness before his lips crashed onto yours. The kiss was electric, chaotic, and raw, filled with emotions that neither of you had been able to express in words. His lips moved fervently against yours, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, and you felt the weight of his desperation, longing, guilt, and frustration pouring into every movement.
You froze at first, your mind screaming at you to push him away. This was wrong—so, so wrong. He had a girlfriend. You had Sunghoon. This moment wasn’t supposed to exist, and yet, as his warmth enveloped you, you found yourself unable to resist.
You weren’t supposed to enjoy the way his lips felt on yours, the way they ignited a fire in you that you’d tried so hard to extinguish. You weren’t supposed to let your hands drift up to clutch at his shirt, pulling him closer as though he was the only thing keeping you grounded. But you did.
The world around you disappeared, and all that remained was Jay—his touch, his breath, his presence overwhelming you entirely. Your lips moved against his with the same frantic energy, your emotions spilling out in a silent confession. You kissed him back with everything you had, trying to imprint this moment into your memory because deep down, you knew it wouldn’t last.
This wasn’t yours to keep. This wasn’t yours at all. And yet, for this fleeting moment, you allowed yourself to believe that it could be. Tonight, you let yourself forget the consequences, the heartbreak waiting just beyond the glow of the streetlamp. Tonight, you gave yourself to Jay completely, even as your heart fractured under the weight of knowing that this would only ever be a stolen moment.
The world seemed to blur around you as Jay’s lips moved against yours. The cold night air faded, replaced by the heat of the moment, the intensity of emotions you both tried so hard to suppress. His hands were warm, firm yet tender as they cradled your face, grounding you in the whirlwind of feelings you had been running from for so long.
But the weight of reality loomed over you like a shadow, tugging at your conscience even as your heart begged you to stay in this fleeting moment. The kiss was a storm—fierce, unrelenting, and consuming—but you knew storms always passed, leaving devastation in their wake.
“Jay,” you gasped, breaking away, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Your hands, still clutching his shirt, trembled as you looked up at him. His eyes were dark, searching yours for answers, for reassurance, for anything to justify what had just happened.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, but his hands didn’t leave your face. “I just... I couldn’t hold back anymore.”
You shook your head, tears welling up as the weight of what had just happened crashed over you. “This isn’t right, Jay. We can’t do this,” you said, your voice cracking. “You have Giselle. And me—I’m with Sunghoon.” The words felt hollow, but you forced them out, hoping to remind both of you of the lines you’d just crossed.
His jaw tightened at the mention of Sunghoon, and he looked away briefly, as if the thought pained him. “I know,” he said quietly. “I know this is wrong. But I couldn’t stop myself. I needed to see you.” he admitted, his voice laced with regret. “But I can’t stop thinking about you, Y/N. I’ve tried—I’ve tried so hard, but no matter what, you’re always there.”
His confession tore through you, the raw vulnerability in his words igniting something deep within your chest, but the guilt that followed was sharper. “Jay, you don’t understand what this will do to everyone,” you said, wiping at your tears. “This isn’t just about us. Giselle loves you. Sunghoon trusts me. We can’t destroy them for something that might not even last.”
Jay’s jaw tightened, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “Do you really believe that? That this—” he gestured between the two of you, his voice trembling—“is nothing?”
You hesitated, your heart battling your mind, the truth caught in the space between. “I don’t know,” you finally admitted, your voice barely audible. “I don’t know what this is, Jay. But I know it can’t happen like this.”
Jay took a shaky step back, his face falling as the reality of your words sank in. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling deeply as if trying to compose himself. “You’re right,” he said quietly, his tone resigned. “This isn’t fair to anyone.”
You nodded, your chest aching as you watched the boy you loved wrestle with the same emotions tearing you apart. “We need to let this go,” you said, even though the words felt like knives in your throat. “For them. For us.”
Jay looked at you one last time, his eyes filled with sorrow and longing, before nodding slowly. “Goodbye, Y/N,” he said, his voice heavy with finality.
You watched as he turned and walked away, the distance between you growing with each step. You were hoping that he didnt look back, because he would have seen your legs give out, as you sobbed silently, your tears falling freely under the soft glow of the streetlamp.
Tonight was supposed to be the night you let him go, but as you stood there, your heart breaking, you realized letting go was far harder than you could have imagined.
But then, Jay did look back.
He froze when his eyes found you, crouched on the pavement with your head buried in your hands, your shoulders trembling. You weren’t looking at him, but the sight alone cut through him like a blade. He could feel your pain, raw and unrestrained, and it twisted in his chest until he couldn’t breathe.
He knew what this was. He felt it too—the tension, the connection, the pull. But if he felt it so deeply, why couldn’t he take the leap? Why couldn’t he let go of Giselle if every fiber of his being was drawn to you?
Jay knew the answer. Deep down, he was a coward. Afraid of the consequences, afraid of shattering the life he’d built, even if it meant suffocating the part of him that longed for you. He hid behind Giselle, behind the facade of comfort, because facing the truth meant risking everything.
But now, watching you fall apart, something inside him snapped. It was as if an unseen force dragged him back to you. His feet moved before his mind caught up, and suddenly, he was kneeling beside you, his voice trembling as he whispered, “What am I going to do with you?”
His expression was strained, filled with anguish as he reached for you, pulling you into his arms. The warmth of his embrace broke the dam you’d been holding back.
“I missed you so much, Jay,” you sobbed, your voice trembling and raw. “I’m sorry. I know I messed everything up. I complicated things for you, but I’m in love with you. I know you’re not mine to have, but it hurts so much, Jay. I love you, but I know you’re happy with someone else, and I—”
Your words dissolved into breathless cries as Jay tightened his hold on you. His arms wrapped around you as if trying to shield you from the very pain he’d caused, his own silent tears slipping into the night as he held you close. For that moment, the rest of the world didn’t exist—only the two of you, broken and vulnerable under the glow of the streetlamp.
Jay’s heart clenched at your words, each syllable carving deeper into the conflict he carried. He didn’t speak immediately, just held you tighter, his own emotions threatening to spill over as he buried his face in your hair. Your sobs echoed through the quiet street, raw and unfiltered, and for the first time in a long while, he felt utterly powerless.
“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice trembling as he pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your tear-streaked face. His thumb brushed against your cheek, wiping away a stray tear as his own eyes glistened. “I’ve missed you too. More than I should, more than I ever wanted to. You have no idea how many nights I’ve stayed awake thinking about you, wondering what it would be like if things were...different.”
The pain in his voice was undeniable, and it only made your tears fall harder. “Then why, Jay?” you whispered, your voice breaking as you searched his face. “Why can’t we—why can’t you—”
“Because I’m scared,” he admitted, the words spilling out before he could stop them. His voice cracked under the weight of his confession, and he looked away, ashamed. “I’m scared of ruining everything. Of hurting Giselle. Of losing you if this doesn’t work. I don’t know how to let go of her, and I don’t know how to let go of you.”
His honesty only made the ache in your chest grow. You reached out, placing a trembling hand on his cheek, guiding his gaze back to you. “Jay, you can’t have it both ways,” you said softly, your voice heavy with both love and pain. “You have to choose. And if you can’t, then maybe...maybe I have to make the choice for you.”
“No,” Jay said quickly, his hand flying to cover yours. “Don’t. Don’t leave me, Y/N. Please.” The desperation in his tone made your heart twist, but you knew deep down that something had to give.
“I can’t keep holding on to someone who was never mine to begin with, Jay,” you whispered, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “You’re you, and I’m… me. Can’t you see? You’re talented, warm, kind, gentle—and I’m a mess. Giselle… she suits you. She’s beautiful, patient, everything I’m not. You two look perfect together.”
You paused, your breaths shaky as you tried to steady yourself, but the pain in your chest only grew heavier. “I’m so tired, Jay. I’m tired of the nights I lie awake, wishing I could be the one in your arms. I’m tired of being afraid of myself because I want so desperately to be the one you look at with that gentleness in your eyes. I want to be the one who makes you laugh, the girl who loves you with her whole heart.”
Your voice faltered, breaking into a strained whisper as tears streamed down your face. “But I can’t. I can’t be that girl, Jay. I’ll never be her.”
Your sobs softened into quiet sniffles, the silence between you thick and suffocating. You couldn’t bear to look at him, afraid of what you might see—pity, regret, or worse, nothing at all. All the words you’d kept locked inside were now laid bare, and yet, the ache in your chest only deepened, the weight of your unspoken love threatening to crush you.
Jay’s chest tightened with every word you spoke, each one laced with pain, longing, and a finality that made his heart feel like it was being crushed. He reached out for you instinctively, his hands trembling, but he stopped himself, letting them fall to his sides. He knew he had no right to comfort you—not when he was the source of your pain.
“Y/N…” he began, his voice hoarse and broken. “Don’t say that. Please, don’t say that about yourself.” His eyes glistened with unshed tears as he took a shaky step toward you, though the weight of your words kept him from getting too close. “You don’t see what I see, do you? You’re not a mess. You’re—” He swallowed hard, his voice cracking. “You’re everything, Y/N. Everything I didn’t even know I needed. And I hate myself for making you feel like you’re not enough because you are. You always were.”
Your lips trembled as you shook your head, stepping back. “Don’t do this, Jay. Don’t say these things when you know you can’t follow through. You’re with her, and I’m… I’m not a part of that world. I can’t keep pretending like there’s a place for me in your life when all I’m doing is hurting myself.”
He reached out again, his hand hovering near yours before pulling it back, defeated. “I don’t know what to do, Y/N,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m so lost. I thought I had everything figured out, but then you walked into my life, and now—now nothing makes sense. I don’t want to lose you, but I also don’t want to keep hurting you like this. I don’t know how to let go of you, Y/N. I don’t know how to stop wanting you.”
You bit your lip, forcing yourself to stay strong even as his words tore you apart. “You have to,” you said, your voice steady despite the tears streaming down your face. “For both of us. You have to let me go, Jay. Because I can’t keep living like this. I can’t keep loving someone who’s never going to be mine.”
The finality of your words hung heavy in the air, and Jay felt his knees go weak. He wanted to argue, to plead with you to stay, but deep down, he knew you were right. He had been selfish, holding onto you while refusing to make a choice. And now, it was too late.
“Okay,” he whispered, his voice cracking as tears rolled down his cheeks. “Okay, Y/N. If that’s what you need, I’ll—I’ll let you go. But just know that I…” He hesitated, the words caught in his throat. “I’m sorry. For everything. For not being brave enough to choose you. For hurting you. For loving you when I shouldn’t have.”
You nodded, your chest heaving as you tried to steady your breathing. “Goodbye, Jay,” you whispered, the words barely audible but heavy with meaning.
And this time, when you walked away, Jay didn’t follow. He stayed rooted to the spot, watching you disappear into the night, his heart shattered into pieces he wasn’t sure he could ever put back together.
Maybe in another life, maybe in another universe, he would have been the one to hold you close, his arms your safest place. He would have been the one to press soft kisses to your temple, nuzzling his nose against your neck as though the world outside didn’t exist. He would have been the one to wake beside you each morning, his fingers gently brushing through your hair, his gaze filled with the quiet adoration of someone who’d found their forever.
He would have carried you on his back when your legs gave out, laughing at your complaints but never letting go. He would have cooked your favorite meals, waiting for the sound of your keys turning in the door because coming home meant coming back to him. He would have been the one to stand at the end of the aisle, his heart racing as he watched you walk toward him in a gown that made you look like a dream.
He would have been the one you said “I do” to, your voice steady and full of promise. He would have been the one who vowed to hold you through the storms and the sunshine, in moments of joy and in those of despair. For better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health—he would have been the one to love and cherish you until your very last breath.
In another life, in another universe, he would have been the one. But here, in this tangled mess of reality, he could only dream of the love that could have been.
Maybe in another life, Jay thought, the universe would have been kinder to the both of you. In that life, there would be no Giselle, no tangled strings of guilt and confusion, no walls of "what ifs" and "too lates." In that life, he wouldn't have hesitated. He wouldn't have second-guessed every decision, every step closer to you.
He could imagine it so clearly, almost cruelly vivid in his mind. You, standing in the kitchen in the morning light, your laugh filling the air as he teased you about something silly. The way you’d rest your head on his shoulder during quiet moments, your presence a comfort he never knew he needed until it was gone.
He would have been the one to carry you when life got heavy, to wipe away your tears and kiss your worries away. He would have known, deep in his soul, that he didn’t just love you—he belonged with you.
But this wasn’t another life. This wasn’t another universe. And in this one, he had made his choices, and you had made yours. The weight of that reality pressed heavily on his chest, a bitter ache he knew he’d carry for a long time, maybe forever.
As he stood under the same stars that had once seemed to shine so brightly for him, Jay let the tears fall freely, his heart whispering a silent prayer to a world that didn’t exist.
Maybe in another life, you would have been his, and he would have been yours. But in this one, all he could do was love you from afar, a love that would remain untouched by time but buried deep within his heart.
ahhh thanks for reading up till here everyone! let me know if you liked it! this fic actually hit very close to home while i was writing because i subconsciously inserted my own feelings towards jay in this LOL😞
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