Words in Ruin Series # | 12 : Chwe Hansol (Vernon) 🐢
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Healing, Miscommunication
Warnings: Shouting, emotional breakdown, crying, comfort and reconciliation
Summary: Vernon is usually the laid-back, composed type, preferring quiet moments over the chaos of fame. But the constant pressure and never-ending schedule have begun to break him down. One evening, after a particularly exhausting day, he takes out his frustrations on you, and the harsh words cut deeper than he intended. Regret comes quickly, but it’s hard to undo the hurt.
You stared at the clock for what must've been the tenth time. It was almost midnight, and Vernon still wasn’t home.
The food on the table had long since gone cold. You sighed, setting down your phone after reading the same message you'd sent him two hours ago:
“Are you okay? I’m worried.”
No reply.
Then finally, the door creaked open.
You sat up immediately. “Hansol?”
Vernon walked in with heavy steps. He looked exhausted. His shoulders slumped like the weight of the world was dragging him down. He didn’t even glance at you as he took off his shoes and dropped his bag by the door.
“You’re late,” you said quietly, trying to keep your tone light. “I made dinner.”
“I already ate,” he muttered.
You stood there awkwardly for a second, unsure of what to do. His voice had been cold, not like Vernon at all. He moved past you and walked straight to the bedroom.
You followed after him, your steps tentative.
“Did something happen?” you asked gently. “You didn’t text back. I was worried.”
He let out a sigh as he threw his hoodie onto a chair. “Why does everything have to be a problem?”
Your brows furrowed. “It’s not a problem, I’m just worried about you…”
“Well, don’t be. I’m fine.” He finally looked at you, but his eyes were hard, tired. “Can you just, I don't know, stop treating me like I’m going to break all the time?”
The sting in his words made you take a step back. “I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.”
“I know,” he said sharply, then ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “I know. I just… I just want silence. For one night.”
“But bottling everything up doesn’t help you either,” you replied softly. “You don’t talk to me anymore, Hansol. I miss you, even when you're right in front of me.”
He scoffed. “Right, because I’m the problem again.”
You blinked, your throat tightening. “That’s not what I said…”
“You didn’t have to.” His voice rose. “I get it. You want me to be this perfect version of myself all the time. I’m tired, okay? Tired of everything, tired of the constant pressure, the noise, the expectations. And now I come home, and it feels like I can’t even breathe here either!”
You flinched. He never yelled. Not like this.
“Is that what I am to you now? Noise?” you whispered.
He immediately looked away, guilt flashing in his eyes. “That’s not what I meant…”
“But that’s what you said.”
“I’m sorry, okay?” he snapped. “I’m sorry I’m not who you want me to be right now.”
You shook your head, your voice cracking. “I don’t want you to be anyone else, Hansol. I want you. But you won’t let me in anymore. You come home, shut me down, and you act like I’m part of the chaos you’re trying to escape from.”
“I don’t mean to,” he whispered. “It’s just... e-everything’s too much.”
“Then why not talk to me about it?” you asked, pleading now. “Why push me away?”
“Because if I start talking, I’m scared I won’t stop,” he confessed, voice shaking. “I’m scared I’ll break down and you’ll see how weak I really am.”
You stared at him, tears building. “Do you really think I’d walk away if you cried? Do you think I’m only here for the version of you that’s calm and composed?”
You took a step closer, voice softer now. “Let me carry some of this with you. Let me be the one safe space you don’t have to pretend in.”
He finally looked at you again, and his expression broke your heart. His walls were crumbling. Slowly, painfully.
“I had a panic attack in the bathroom today,” he admitted. “During a break between takes. No one noticed. I just… I washed my face and kept going like nothing happened.”
“Oh, Hansol…” You reached out, but he stepped back.
“And it’s not the first time,” he said bitterly. “Every day feels like I’m suffocating. Every smile I force feels like a lie. I come home and I want to collapse, but then I see you waiting for me and I feel like I’m failing you, too.”
“You’re not failing me,” you said immediately. “You’re hurting. That’s not failure.”
He finally broke down, his voice trembling. “I don’t know how to be okay anymore.”
You pulled him into your arms, and this time, he didn’t resist. He held onto you like he was drowning.
“I’ve got you,” you whispered, rubbing his back. “You don’t have to be okay right now. You just have to let yourself feel.”
He clung to you tightly. “I’m scared.”
“I know. But I’m not going anywhere.”
His shoulders trembled as the tears finally spilled, quiet, broken sobs that had been buried for too long. You held him through it, letting him release every emotion he’d bottled up.
“I’m sorry for yelling,” he mumbled into your shoulder. “I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”
“I know,” you said gently. “It hurt, but I know you didn’t mean it. I forgive you.”
He pulled back just slightly, brushing his fingers along your face, now wet with your own tears. “I don’t deserve you.”
“You do,” you said, smiling through the tears. “And you always will.”
He let out a shaky laugh, his forehead leaning against yours. “What would I do without you?”
“You’ll never have to find out,” you whispered.
You guided him to the couch, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders. He leaned into your side, head resting on your chest, hand gripping yours tightly.
And for the first time in a long while, Vernon allowed himself to rest, not as an idol, not as a perfect image, but as a person. A broken, healing, loved person.
Taglist: @babycaratdeul @viacb97 @christinewithluv
