@bambisncs @httpzsho @woniefication @suhnandmoon @aetherawasneverhere @chrrific @hoonstqr + i think this is all my moots but all the others are included!!
@ghstzzn @heesmiles @b1mbodoll @byshens @kireilien @kikidoul @bambisnc @woniefication @faeyun @fangel @emisluvr + all my other mutuals who i might've missed sry!)
am i tagging almost every single one of my moots? yes and? leave me alone. anyways even if u dont see me talk to u as much js know i appreciate n love u guys sososososo muchie teehee
@bambisncs @httpzsho @woniefication @suhnandmoon @aetherawasneverhere @chrrific @hoonstqr + i think this is all my moots but all the others are included!!
@ghstzzn @heesmiles @b1mbodoll @byshens @kireilien @kikidoul @bambisnc @woniefication @faeyun @fangel @emisluvr + all my other mutuals who i might've missed sry!)
am i tagging almost every single one of my moots? yes and? leave me alone. anyways even if u dont see me talk to u as much js know i appreciate n love u guys sososososo muchie teehee
Picrew chain! Make yourself with this picrew and the most recent meme on your phone
Tags: @dracosleftarsecheek @yourlocalbadgerscales @forensic-b1tch-aiden @names-confuse-me @agathokakolog1cal @yourlocalxiaosimp and open tags! <33 have fun
Picrew chain! Make yourself with this picrew and the most recent meme on your phone
Tags: @dracosleftarsecheek @yourlocalbadgerscales @forensic-b1tch-aiden @names-confuse-me @agathokakolog1cal @yourlocalxiaosimp and open tags! <33 have fun
right so ... isnât it obvious who my ult is heh. this is pretty accurate actually :0 iâm not sure about the old soul one but i am the queen of inner rage :p
thank you danie for the tag! >3< TAGGING: @miumura, @orimuraa, @bywons, @weoris
hehe ty for the tag lili >< i think it was pretty accurate except for the sorry one TT i think i'm actually the opposite and can't stop saying sorry TT but i think my ult was a bit obvious...
the sound of tires rolling over wet pavement fills the silent streets as a black van slows to a stop in front of the venue. the neon lights above the entrance flicker against the dark sky, and the muffled hum of a crowd seeps through the brick walls. the air is cold, damp with the remnants of rain, but mark barely notices as he steps out, hood pulled over his head, gaze drifting across the unfamiliar yet familiar city.
it had been years since he last walked these streets.
years since he left without looking back.
and years since he last saw you.
his fingers tighten around the strap of his bag as he follows the security team inside. the venue isnât massiveânot like the arenas heâs used toâbut thereâs a strange comfort in the intimacy of it, in knowing that this place, this city, holds pieces of his past that he abandoned a long time ago.
he doesnât know why he agreed to come back. nostalgia, maybe. or guilt.
maybe you.
maybe the hope that after all this time, youâd still be here, still waiting, still willing to see him after he disappeared without a trace.
but that would be selfish, wouldnât it?
you and mark were inseparable as kids, bound by a friendship that felt unbreakable. you spent summers biking through the neighborhood, sharing headphones as you lay on the grass, talking about the future like it was something you could control.
back then, markâs dreams were smallâsimple. he wanted to make music, to write songs that made people feel something. you believed in him before anyone else did, sitting cross-legged on his bedroom floor while he scribbled lyrics in a worn-out notebook.
âyouâll make it big one day,â you had told him, grinning. âiâll be your biggest fan.â
he laughed, nudging your shoulder. âyouâll be right there with me, right?â
âalways.â
but âalwaysâ had an expiration date.
the day mark got his acceptance letter to train in korea, everything changed.
he was ecstatic, eyes shining with the kind of excitement you had never seen before. and you were happy for himâso, so happyâbut beneath that joy was something bitter, something selfish.
âyouâre really leaving, huh?â you had asked, trying to sound teasing, even though your voice wavered.
mark hesitated before nodding. âyeah⊠but itâs not forever.â
but it was.
at first, he tried. he texted, called, sent voice messages telling you about his training, his struggles, the late-night practices that left him exhausted but fulfilled. and you held onto those messages like lifelines, responding every chance you got, telling him about your mundane life in comparison.
but slowly, the messages became less frequent.
the calls stopped.
the time zones stretched the distance between you, and suddenly, you werenât part of his life anymore.
you told yourself you understood. he was chasing his dream, living the life he always wanted. who were you to hold him back?
but understanding didnât make it hurt any less.
the coffee shop on 3rd street is the same as he remembersâwarm lighting, the scent of espresso, the low hum of conversations overlapping.
but the moment mark steps inside, he feels out of place.
his hands are clammy as he orders, shifting from foot to foot as he glances around. he doesnât even like coffee that much, but this was your favorite place. he wonders if you still come here.
if youâd even recognize him after all this time.
the barista calls his name, and just as he reaches for the cup, he hears it.
a laugh.
soft, familiar. a sound he hadnât heard in years, yet it still manages to send a sharp pang through his chest.
sitting by the window, a book in one hand, a drink in the other. the sight is so painfully familiar that for a second, he forgets how much time has passed.
you look⊠older. not in a bad way. just different. the softness of youth is gone, replaced by something quieter, more mature. he wonders if youâve changed or if he just doesnât know you anymore.
he takes a shaky breath. he shouldnât disturb you. you look happy. peaceful.
but then your eyes lift, and suddenly, heâs frozen.
shock flickers across your face, but it disappears just as quickly, replaced by something unreadable.
mark swallows, gripping his cup tighter as he takes a hesitant step forward.
âhey,â he says, voice barely above a whisper.
for a moment, you just stare at him, as if trying to determine if heâs real. then, slowly, you set your book down.
âmark.â
it shouldnât hurt, the way you say his nameâcarefully, cautiously, like heâs a stranger.
like he isnât the same boy you once promised to stay beside forever.
he should apologize. should tell you heâs sorry for leaving, for never looking back, for letting the distance turn into silence.
but before he can, you speak first.
âyou look good.â
itâs polite. distant.
not the way you used to talk to him.
mark forces a smile. âso do you.â
a beat of silence.
then, you exhale, setting your cup down. âwhy are you here, mark?â
the question is simple, but it carries weight.
mark shifts uncomfortably. âiâi had a concert here. thought iâd⊠check out the old places.â
you hum, nodding, but you donât look convinced.
âi didnât mean just here,â you clarify. âi mean⊠why now? why after all this time?â
mark clenches his fists. he wishes he had a good answer. wishes he could say something that would make up for the years of absence, for the messages left on read, for the calls never returned.
âi donât know,â he admits quietly. âi guess i just⊠missed you.â
a sharp exhale. you look away, fingers curling around your mug.
âyou donât get to say that,â you whisper. ânot after disappearing for years.â
âyou didnât try at all, mark.â your voice isnât angry. just tired. âdo you even know how long i waited? how many times i told myself youâd call back? that youâd keep your promise?â
mark swallows the lump in his throat. âiââ
âbut you didnât,â you continue. âyou left, and i had to be okay with it. i had to move on. and i did.â
something cracks in his chest.
âyouâre right,â he says hoarsely. âi donât deserve to ask for anything. i just⊠i wanted to see you. even if you never want to talk to me again, i just needed you to know that iââ he stops, inhaling sharply. âthat i never forgot about you.â
your expression softensâjust barely.
for a moment, neither of you speak.
then, you sigh, rubbing your temple. âi donât know if we can go back to how things were, mark.â
âi know,â he whispers. âbut maybe⊠maybe we can start again?â
a pause.
then, finally, you meet his gaze.
and for the first time that night, your lips twitch into something almost like a smile.
iâm over 5'5 / i wear glasses or contacts / i have blonde hair / i often wear sweatshirts / i prefer loose clothing over tight clothes / i have one or two piercings / i have at least one tattoo / i have blue eyes / i have dyed or highlighted my hair / i have or have had braces / i have freckles / i paint my nails / i typically wear makeup / i donât often smile / resting bitch face / i play sports / i play an instrument / i know more than one language / i can cook or bake / i like writing / i like to read / i can multitask / iâve never dated anyone / i have a best friend iâve known for over five years / i am an only child
thank you for tagging me soph i haven't done one of these in so long hehe :DD (not that anything changed from the last time i did this tag game... also removed rbs cause it was so so long)
i'm over 5'5 / i wear glasses or contacts / i have blonde hair / i often wear sweatshirts / i prefer loose clothing over tight clothes / i have one or two piercings / i have at least one tattoo / i have blue eyes / i have dyed or highlighted my hair / i have or have had braces / i have freckles / i paint my nails / i typically wear makeup / i donât often smile / resting bitch face /i play sports / i play an instrument / i know more than one language / i can cook or bake / i like writing / i like to read / i can multitask / i've never dated anyone / i have a best friend iâve known for over five years / i am an only child
i'm over 5'5 / i wear glasses or contacts / i have blonde hair / i often wear sweatshirts / i prefer loose clothing over tight clothes / i have one or two piercings / i have at least one tattoo / i have blue eyes / i have dyed or highlighted my hair / i have or have had braces / i have freckles / i paint my nails / i typically wear makeup / i donât often smile / resting bitch face /i play sports / i play an instrument / i know more than one language / i can cook or bake / i like writing / i like to read / i can multitask / i've never dated anyone / i have a best friend iâve known for over five years / i am an only child
tagging moots (no pressure) @swhore @bang-chan-my-man @nicholasluvbot @qwoolz @levantur @seoyangi @hourlyhoon @dollstrands @seorain @peterm4rker @tako-takiiii + anyone who wants to join
i'm over 5'5 / i wear glasses or contacts / i have blonde hair / i often wear sweatshirts / i prefer loose clothing over tight clothes / i have one or two piercings / i have at least one tattoo / i have blue eyes / i have dyed or highlighted my hair / i have or have had braces / i have freckles / i paint my nails / i typically wear makeup / i donât often smile / resting bitch face / i play sports / i play an instrument / i know more than one language / i can cook or bake / i like writing / i like to read / i can multitask / i've never dated anyone / i have a best friend iâve known for over five years / i am an only child.
i'm exactly 5'5 / i don't wear glasses or contacts / i have red hair / i often wear sweatshirts / i prefer loose clothing over tight clothes / i have zero piercings / i have at one tattoo / i have brown eyes / i have dyed or highlighted my hair / i have or have had braces / i don't have freckles / i don't paint my nails / i typically wear makeup / i donât often smile / resting bitch face / i dance / i play an instrument / i know more than one language / i can cook or bake / i like writing / i like to read / i can't multitask / i've never dated anyone / i have a best friend iâve known for over ten years / i am an only child.
đžđ·âźâ [mark x reader] ...àšâĄà§... wc. 2.5k w. none, lmk if you find any! fluff ᶻ đ đ° .á
hey siri! play "wondering why" by the red clay strays
she comes from silver spoon, golden rule, private school
never missed sunday church
mark watched you from his place next to his father.
the way you focused on whatever you seemed to be embroidering, eyebrows furrowed and tongue poking out of your lips slightly. he couldnât help himself, his eyes refused to move away from the astonishing beauty of your smooth skin and pretty eyes. his heart began to race as you looked up at him, catching his stare. he thought you were going to be weirded out at his dirty figure, but he was met with the prettiest smile he had ever seen. he smiled back instantly, his eyes lighting up with wonder before he was obliged to head back to earth by the voice of his father.
âmark, the scissors.â his voice was serious, a warning hidden in his tone. the boy muttered a small âsorryâ as he hurried along to get the tool to his father. when he looked back at you, your eyes had long moved from him, and you didnât meet them again until your own fatherâs voice rang.
âyn, come over here for a secondâ he spoke, his demanding tone almost sending a shiver down markâs spine. you hurried over without a word, eyes connecting with markâs for only a few seconds. âi need a dress made for her, she will be presented to society now that she is finally of age⊠the young man should start taking her measurements, the dress cannot be anything short of perfect for my princess.âÂ
your eyes were glued to the floor, as if you were ashamed of your fatherâs words. mark stared for a couple more seconds until his father nudged his side, urging him to follow the manâs orders. he moved quickly to grab the measuring tape and approach you. you raised your arms to give him the liberty to do his job, your lips chewing on your bottom lip out of nervousness.Â
âiâm sorry you have to do thisâ you whispered, only for him to hear. your voice was sweet like honey, and it made markâs insides twist in knots.
âi donât mindâ he muttered back, a small smile on his lips as he hid his desire for closeness behind the excuse of doing his job.
at eighteen years old, mark knew he wanted to marry you someday.
âŠ
and i come from blue collar, low dollar
out here where concrete meets old red dirt
âyou better be finding inspiration and not getting more of those impossible ideas of yoursâ markâs father spoke as his reflection walked by markâs on the glass. the young boyâs eyes were fixated on the suit that stood behind it, mind imagining himself wearing it while waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs of your house.
âare they really that impossible?â he asked, his tone breathless as he forced himself to tear his eyes away and jog to catch up with the man. he knew the answer he would receive, but he wanted oh so badly for it to change.
âdreams are dangerous for people like us, sonâ there was a hint of defeat in his fatherâs voice as they walked up the stairs that lead to your home. âwe make the dress, not marry the bride.â
and those words stuck with him for days on end as he moved around you, sharing tender and oh so loving gazes as he pinned fabric around your body for a day he knew he would not be there to witness.
âyou have soft handsâ your voice rang in his ears, interrupting the peaceful silence that surrounded you in the empty room. âcompared to your fatherâsâ
âless years of hard work, he would say,â he mumbled as he stood behind you, fixing what would be the corset of your debutante dress.
âwhere is he, anyway? iâm sure my father had demanded his work for my big nightâ the last two words rang with sarcasm.
you felt his hands go more rigid than usual after the question âhe has fallen ill, thatâs why it's only me todayâ shit.
âi'm terribly sorry, i shouldnât have askedâ you voiced with regret, and you watched his reflection shake his head in the mirror.
âthere is no way you couldâve knownâ mark reassured, attention still fixated on his job.
âiâm glad he has you to continue his laborâ you spoke again, voice more tender this time.
markâs eyes rose to find yours in the reflection, an eyebrow slightly raised. âdo you, miss ln?â
his voice had sounded deeper than it usually did, and the way his breath hit the skin of your shoulder made a shiver run down your spine.
âi do.â
...
and i don't know what happened
but it sure don't add up on paper
the day had finally come. where you would walk down a flight of stairs wearing the dress that he made, a soft melody in the background that he wouldnât get to hear while you held a hand that wasnât his.
mark sat in the sand of the beach near your house, watching the ocean reach and recoil from his touch as you had done so many times in the past months. his eyes felt dry at the lack of the tears they had grown used to now that his father was gone, but there werenât any left to relieve the itchiness.Â
his hands played with the sand on his side, enjoying the warmth that contrasted how cold the skin of the last hand he held was. mark felt guilty, really, that he couldnât keep his mind off of you even when his father had died. but he had spent months yearning for the moment he could tell you how gut wrenchingly in love he was with you, with the way you spoke, with the way you looked at him. and now he was too late, because he knew that if he had any chance with you before that stupid, rich people, ridiculous ball you had to attend, it was gone now. there wasnât a single chance that you were going out of there without having been introduced to all the respectable, equally rich young men that your mother would just love to set you up with.
thatâs what he thought, of course, before he heard your voice calling him from the distance. he snapped his head towards the sound, knowing that it was probably just his mind playing tricks on him. but it wasnât, you were there, running up to him with your long white gown and your chest heaving as you tried to regain your breath.
he didnât waste any more time before running in your direction, arms flying to support your tired body. âyn? what are you doing here?â he asked once he was finally at your side.
âi got in a fight with my father and ran away. i can't do it, markâ he noticed the way your face was wet with tears and guided you to sit down, hoping you could catch your breath before you passed out.
âwhat canât you do?â he questioned further, his heart racing with possibility.
âi canât be paraded like that when i know iâve already met the man i want to spend my life withâ your voice sounded more stable now and your eyes bored into his.
mark felt his breath hitch at your words âyou have?â
âof course, why else did you think i ran all the way here? i was hoping to find youâ your eyes didnât leave his for a second, and he could see the honesty through them.
he didnât answer your indirect confession, he didnât have the words. the only thing he could do was press his lips to yours in a tender but passionate kiss, hoping that was enough to tell you he felt the same.
...
but when i close my eyes late at night
you can bet i thank my maker
âiâm sorry, i know it's not much but, uhm, you can take the bed and iâll take the couchâ mark spoke nervously as you entered his small house. you had stopped on your tracks, eyes wandering around the space.
âit's perfectâ your voice made his eyebrows furrowed. he knew his house was far from perfect, even more in the eyes of someone like you.
âi donât think the word âperfectâ is the one you're looking forâ he muttered, finally catching your eyes as you looked his way.
âi love it, markâ you smiled as you approached him, your hand shyly moving to his blushing cheeks. âiâm seriousâ
he couldnât help but smile, kissing the palm of your hand in affection. âwe should get you out of that dress before you ruin my masterpiece any furtherâ
âalready trying to undress me? have some decorum would youâ you joked, eliciting a laugh to fall from his lips as he rolled his eyes.
âdo you want to sleep with a corset on, then?â he raised his eyebrow. âalthough i do have to say, you look insanely beautifulâ his words made your heart race as you watched his eyes look you up and down slower than he usually would.
âif you ever make me a dress with a corset again i will end your bloodline.â you said, face stoic. mark couldnât help but burst out laughing.
âcome on, iâll give you some clothes and we can go to sleepâ he looked at you one last time before guiding you to his room.
he waited outside while you changed, the white gown folded and discarded to the side as you walked towards the door. markâs breath hitched once again as he saw how beautiful you looked, swallowed by the fabric of his clothes.
âlike what you see?â your tone was teasing, but it flew right over his head as he took his time to go back into reality.
âyouâre free to take the bedâ he stammered as he quickly looked away as he realized how much he had been looking.
âwould it be a lot to ask you to stay? i really donât feel like being alone.â you asked as you looked down, a little nervous at his answer.
âif youâre sure, i would be more than happy to do soâ the boy answered, his voice gone soft at the sight of you.
thatâs how you ended up under markâs covers, your head rested on his chest as he caressed your hair softly. you had fallen asleep the moment your body relaxed on his, and mark stayed awake just a few more moments to take everything in and mutter a quick âthank youâ to the sky.
...
she keeps on loving me
loves me the way i am
âlove, dinner is readyâ mark heard your soft voice, seconds before he felt the warmth of your hand on his back.
âthank you, iâll be right thereâ he turned his head to give you a tired smile, the eye bags under his eyes making you feel heavy at heart.
it wasnât long until he sat in front of you on the dinner table, two plates served with hot food.Â
âwhatâs on your mind, markie?â you asked as you noticed the way his eyes were fixated on the table, his fork barely playing with his food.
âthis isnât the life i promised i could give youâ he spoke, his voice heavy as his eyes finally met yours.
âisnât it? last time i checked you promised me a happy life, and i hadnât known happiness like this until i ran away from that wretched house.â you smiled, reaching to hold his hand in yours. âi know you want to give me a life of glamour and expensive mansions, but weâll get there eventually. and if we donât, i donât care, because youâre here and thatâs all that's ever mattered to me.â
mark squeezed your hand as he listened to you, feeling his heart pound with love for you. you never failed to remind him why he had fallen in love with you, nor all the reasons you had fallen in love with him.
âŠ
she's not just along for the ride
she's my biggest fan
âmark!â he heard your voice call out to him as you ran into the house, startling him with the high volume. he looked at you with confusion written all over his face as you shook the newspaper around excitedly. âlook at this!â
said newspaper was planted in front of him, a picture of one of his clients wearing one of the dresses he had designed on the front cover. his eyes widened at the sight, his smile following right behind. âone of my dresses is on the front cover?â he asked, astonished.
ânot only that! she mentioned you, look!â you pointed at a specific paragraph you had marked on the paper. he read the womanâs praising words toward his work, still not believing his eyes.
âthis is insane, i donât even know what to sayâŠâ markâs eyes moved to yours, a smile overtaking his surprised face as he watched the way your eyes lit up with joy and slowly filled with tears.
your hands slowly made their way to his cheeks, caressing the skin with the pads of your thumbs ever so lovingly âiâm so proud of you, my loveâ
and right then and there, mark knew there was nothing he could ever do without you cheering for him in every step.
âŠ
lord, it's a little old piece of heaven
when we lay down at night
mark climbed into your new bed in your new house, a slightly bigger one with a more comfortable mattress. it didnât take long after he settled for you to cuddle up to his chest, looking for his warmth even in your sleep.
his arms surrounded your body and pulled you closer as he left a kiss on your forehead, allowing himself to admire your sleepy face. he remembered the moment you moved into the house, how your unwavering smile faltered at the sight of the bed.
âis there something wrong?â mark asked, his smile falling as he watched your eyebrows furrow.
âthe bed is massive,â you answered. his confusion only grew further. what was wrong with a massive bed?
âdid you want me to keep the older one, love? it was borderline a twin mattressâ he questioned again, looking into your eyes.
âhow on earth am i supposed to find you when we sleep?â you answered his question with one of his own. he watched you and waited for your signature laugh to fall from your lips and tell him you were just joking, but it never came.
âbabyâ the boy couldnât help but chuckle, moving towards you to place his hands on your hips and bring you closer to leave a cast kiss on your lips. âweâll be just as close, i will find you even if i have to wake up, i promise.â
his answer seemed to calm your troubled mind as you smiled and pulled him in for another kiss.â
âŠ
she keeps on loving me
and i keep on wondering why
âhey mark?â your voice pierced the comfortable silence as you laid on a blanket on your balcony, staring up at the starry sky like you used to do on the terrace of your old apartment. the boy hummed, moving his head to stare at your side profile. âmy mother reached out to me todayâ your words were said barely above a whisper.
mark felt his heart race, his disdain for those you called your family still present. âand what did she say?â
âshe told me she saw you in the newspaperâ your eyes were still fixated on the sky above âthat shes pleasantly surprised about your success and that father wants us to have dinner over at the villa sometimeâ
mark had to suppress the urge to roll his eyes. a family that had never treated him or you as anything but a disgrace were now suddenly eager to enjoy a meal with him. he knew he would rather eat his own chopped liver than spend a minute inside that household, but he would do it if you wanted to. it wasnât his family nor his place to decide.Â
âand what did you say?â he asked and you finally turned your head towards him. mark felt as breathless as he had when he saw you for the first time. your eyes still looked like they held the entire universe.
âi told her to fuck herselfâ you erupted in a giggle as your words left your lips, and mark couldnât help but laugh along side you.
he had always wondered why you loved him as much as you did, but god was he grateful you did.
â blue's corner ;; i love love love this song and i watched the greatest showman yesterday, so i had to write this for my mental sanity. i hope you guys like it ! a special thank you to my beta reader and the cutest person alive @morkiee
â taglist ;; @neozon3nha @winwintea @spacejip @dudekiss3r @yizhrt @lyvhie
â back to the masterlist.
â please do not copy, adapt or steal any of the content !!!
TAGS ⏠heavy angst. some fluff. no happy ending this is a breakup fic you have been warned
SUMMARY ⏠Chenle always thought that love truly wins all. Your relationship with him was filled with joy and connection. But lately, cracks have begun form. Between small misunderstandings, unspoken frustrations, and the growing sense that heâs not enough for you, Chenle begins to doubt his theory. Is love enough to bridge the gaps between you or is letting go the ultimate act of love?
WORD COUNT ⏠3.0k+
AUTHORâS NOTE ⏠i'm sorry in advance !!!! not really. suffer. happy birthday chenle. i hate (love) you so. very. very. much. title and fic based on my apology letter by kim yeon woo!
PLAYLIST ⏠my apology letter - kim yeon woo, who - lauv (feat. bts), lie with you - ten, line without a hook - ricky montgomery, the scientist - coldplay
CHENLE SITS DOWN, AND BEGINS WRITING HIS LETTER.
Heâs lost track of how many times heâs sat in this exact seat. It used to be different. So different. At first it was nice. You were beautiful in every way possible. Kind, patient, and thoughtful. You always made him feel like the most important person in the world, even while surrounded by others. This table was a place of warmth, laughter, and love. Now the mood was only as tense as ever.Â
He takes a deep breath, letting his thoughts consume him as he begins to write.Â
I miss your laugh. I miss making you laugh. I miss that joyous echo of good times I could feel around the apartment, and I swear to god it was my favorite sound ever. I miss that. I miss us.Â
He remembers how the mornings would go. Youâd both sit at the table, sharing a simple warm breakfast that you or him had prepared. All that really seemed to matter was the two of you in that moment of time. Â
He looked at you, the sunlight reflecting off of your face. You were always smiling at your phone, lips quirking as your fingers began typing. You placed your phone against your chest after hitting send, waiting for him to react.Â
As Chenle was absentmindedly scrolling through the news, he noticed a notification pop up on his screen.
My Love: âYou okay? Youâve been quiet today.â
Quiet, huh? You always enjoyed texting him to get his attention. Thought it was funny. He looked up to see you smiling at him with a concerned expression. Not wanting you to worry too much Chenle smiled and shook his head, but did not say anything else.
The two of you continued eating in silence.Â
Chenle sets down the pen, this burden in his chest growing heavier. Where did it all go wrong with you two?
The two of you used to be inseparable. Days consisted of stolen glances, shared jokes, silly photos and videos, small moments that brought this intimacy together. Now, you barely interact with each other, barely talk to each other. His mind drifts to details of last night.Â
You sat on the floor, folding the laundry in front of the TV. Your movements were slow and graceful, thoughtfully folding every article of clothing. Chenle sat on the couch behind you, staring mindlessly at the TV, playing some show he couldnât care less about. He didnât look at you, you didnât look at him.
The silence was tense and deafening, yet neither of you made moves to break it.
Chenle picks up the pen again with a stronger grip.
I donât know how we got here. I donât know how to fix it. Actually, thatâs a lie. I do. But maybe Iâm not cut out for that. I know Iâm losing you, and it feels like Iâm losing myself too.
Chenleâs mind drifts to a day where everything seemed perfect, but always something tugging at the back of his mind.
The amusement park date. Your laughter was vibrant and warm, eyes sparked with determination as you tossed beanbags, threw balls at cans, aimed darts, always determined to best him. The two of you definitely had a competitive streak, but Chenle always made the sacrifice for you. You ended up winning a small stuffed dolphin, holding it high above your head like a trophy.
Chenle mock pouted, and laughed, âGuess Iâll stick to basketball.â He pulled you into his arms, the dolphin nearly squished between you as he pecked your cheek, while the two of you broke out into fits of giggles.Â
But even in the moment of happiness and joy, there was still something eating at him from inside.Â
Chenle grips his pen tighter as he recalls those fleeting moments of joy, moments that now feel bittersweet. He lets the ink flow on the paper again, writing some more.
I think about how happy weâve been, and yet thereâs always this weight, this worry I canât stop thinking about. Even in our brightest moments, something felt... off. Itâs not because of you, but because of me. It's slowly destroying me.
Later that evening, the two of you had dinner at your favorite restaurant. Chenle thinks about the way your face lit up when the waiter placed your meal in front of you. He could never get over these small things that you did that make his heart feel giddy as well.Â
You slipped out your phone and took a photo of the meal, sending it to him with a caption to the photo.
My Love: [Photo Attached]
My Love: "We should make this at home sometime! Youâre practically a chef. đ"
Chenle chuckled, replying out loud, âOnly if you clean it up afterwards.â
You smirked and rolled your eyes, ignoring him as you dove into your meal. For a while, everything felt easy, like it used to.
But then you got home.
It started with something small. Just a simple misunderstanding about weekend plans. Chenle couldnât even remember the exact details now, only how frustrated he felt when his words seemed to fall short. Heâd tried to explain, stumbling over his thoughts, but the look on your face never changed. You remained calm, patient, nodding along as if you understood every word.
You always did thatânodded and smiled. But had you really understood him?
Chenle sets the pen down again, and stares at the words he just wrote on the page.
"You always tried to meet me where I was, even when I couldnât meet you halfway. I see that now. And I hate that I didnât see it sooner."
He swallows hard, glancing toward the bedroom door. The stuffed dolphin you won that day lay peacefully tucked away in the closet. It reminds you of the time when things were simpler, or maybe just felt that way.
He stares at the words, hoping theyâll somehow fix whatâs broken. But words alone arenât enough.
They never have been.
Chenleâs been so lost in his memories and thoughts that he hasnât noticed how much time has passed. He lifts his head and sees you standing in the kitchen. Youâve been here the whole time.
Preparing a lunch for the two of you, you move quietly, chopping the vegetables and stirring a pot on the stove. He barely hears your movements, soft and careful. He wonders if you feel the tension between you two as acutely as he does.
And for that moment, he just watches you. Your posture is relaxed, your head tilted slightly as if youâre caught in your own world. You seem so at peace, and it breaks him.
Chenle wants to reach out to you. To stop this moment from becoming what he knows it has to be. He wants to take your hand, to hold on to you just a little longer. But he knows thatâs selfish. This cannot wait.
He swallows hard, his throat tightening as he tears his gaze away from you. His hands clenched into fists on the table, fingers trembling slightly. This is it.Â
Taking a deep breath, Chenle forces himself to speak. His voice is low, almost breaking, the words that come out of his mouth are barely audible.
âY/N, letâs break up.â
Chenle had been distant lately, but you didnât press him. He always had this quiet side to him, and you figured heâd come around when he was ready. You trusted him.
Lunch was extra special today. You were making tteok-bokkiâChenleâs favorite. It wasnât a particularly hard dish, but he appreciated the effort you put in for it. You focused on the ingredients, the soft sizzle of the stove and the aroma that filled the kitchen. Smells like these made everything feel brighter.
You lost yourself in the rhythm of cooking, chopping vegetables and stirring the sauce until it thickened just right. He had taught you how to make the dish originally, cooking it to perfection until you got it just the way he liked it.
You glanced over your shoulder at him briefly. He was at the dining table, hunched over something. A notebook? His phone? You couldnât tell. He didnât look up.
It wasnât like him to be so withdrawn. Heâd always tryâheâd send funny memes or silly videos to make you smile. Lately, though, his texts had seemed less and less. You told yourself he was just busy, and would make time as usual to make it up to you.
When the food was nearly ready, you began washing the dishes in the sink, suddenly remembering something youâd been meaning to ask. You turned around, leaning slightly on the counter, and smiled.
âChenle,â you said, your voice soft but clear. âTake off early for work today and letâs go out to eat dinner together, alright?â
Your hands begin to move, signing something quickly as you mouthed the words out, the gestures being full of emotion to convey your thoughts and feelings. It was your way of making sure he understood. He didnât know a lot of sign language, but he always made the effort to try and guess.
He initially looked at you with a serious face, his lips in a tight thin line. His eyes were conflicted. Why he looked so pained for some reason, you had no idea. But as soon as you started signing his lips curved into a smile once more, a familiar smile that you loved looking at all day long.Â
Eventually after no reaction, Chenle seemed to process your words and nodded his head. He held his hand up in a âokâ position to ensure that he had understood and got the memo.Â
Pleased with his response, you turned back around and finished up your task in the kitchen.Â
Chenle had asked you to prepare him lunch. You suggested his favorite. He needed this moment to himself, to let the words leave his mouth and test the weight of them in the air.
âLetâs break up,â he had whispered while your back was turned. The words had tasted bitter, like ash on his tongue, their weight heavier than he could have anticipated.
But you hadnât heard him.
Youâd been deaf since the moment he met you. He could still remember your first conversation. It was brief and awkward, with you typing out sentences on your phone and holding the screen in front of him. Heâd smiled at how patient you were. A patience you still had today. From that moment, he was hooked.
Yet now, after all this time, he hated himself for how little heâd tried to understand you better.
Chenle leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. The guilt felt like a heavy weight, weighing his shoulders down.
He loved you. God, he loved you so much. But it wasnât enough. Love alone wasnât enough to bridge the gap of happiness between the two of you.
He thought about all the times you had signed something to him, your gestures full of emotion, but he could only guess their meaning. You never scolded him for not understanding, never grew angry when he needed you to repeat yourself or resort to texting instead. You were always kind and understanding. Patient and calm.Â
But you shouldnât have to be patient. You shouldnât have to wait for him to change. You shouldnât have to wait this long.Â
He had taken advantage of your patience, convincing himself that things would work out eventually. He would catch on quickly. Or so he thought.Â
He had barely scratched the surface of learning sign language, and didnât put in as much effort as he shouldâve.Â
He wasnât enough for her. His mind flooded with these thoughts and revelations. These words were sharp and seemed to pierce his heart, filling him with immense pain.
The gap between his hearing and your not hearing had grown too large, too large to ignore. At first, he had thought together you could leap over it, that your love would be enough. But he was wrong.
You deserved someone who would dive into that gap and build a bridge, piece by piece, brick by brick. Someone who would work to understand every gesture, every look you made, every unspoken word.
He wasnât that person. He would never be that person.
Chenle glanced at the letter on the table, the words he had written laid out before his own eyes. He wanted to say goodbye, but he couldnât find a way to do it face to face. Not properly. Not without him breaking down.Â
Maybe he wasnât strong enough to say the words. Call him a coward. He couldnât face you. He couldnât even say he wanted to break up with you outright. Yet he wasnât brave enough to stay and keep letting you down.
He heard you call his name again, your voice soft and light, the way you always spoke just for him. Your hands moved as you spoke, signing the words with ease, your face glowing after looking at him.Â
And in that moment, he realized: no matter who he met in the future, he would never love anyone the way he loved you.
But that love wasnât enough.
The apartment felt emptier than ever when you walked in one day after work.Â
Youâd noticed the change the moment you opened the door: the subtle shift in the air, the absence of his shoes by the entrance, the way the quiet seemed louder than usual, some space seemed emptier than you remembered. Your chest tightened as you stepped further inside looking around the living room.
Thatâs when you saw it.
A neatly folded envelope sat on the table, your name written on it in Chenleâs familiar handwriting. Beside it, the small dolphin youâd won at the amusement park laid out next to the letter on the table, its glossy black eyes staring back up at you.
You took a deep breath and swallowed, your hands trembling as you picked up the envelope. You didnât open it right away. Instead, you stood there, staring at the letter, trying to steady your breathing for a bit. You knew this was coming. You tried to ignore the signs, but you were correct.
When you finally sat down, it was in the same chair Chenle always used. You never sat in it, since it always seemed like his spot. The cushion still felt warm somehow, as though he had been there just moments ago. You placed the envelope on the table in front of you, staring at it for what felt like an eternity before you finally gathered enough courage to open it.
The letter was written in his careful handwriting, each word deliberate, each line heavy with emotion. As you began to read, tears blurred your vision.
My dearest Y/N,
By the time youâre reading this, Iâll be gone. I know you probably saw it comingâIâve been distant for a while now. And I know you deserve more than this. A goodbye in words rather than on a page. But this is the only way I could say everything I need to.Â
From the moment I met you, you were the brightest part of my life. You lit up every room you walked into. You taught me so much about patience, about kindness, about love.
And I failed you.
Things have been different, havenât you noticed? I miss your laugh. I miss making you laugh. I miss that joyous echo of good times I could feel around the apartment, and I swear to god it was my favorite sound ever. I miss that. I miss us.Â
I donât know how we got here. I donât know how to fix it. Actually, thatâs a lie. I do. But maybe Iâm not cut out for that. I know Iâm losing you, and it feels like Iâm losing myself too.
Iâve tried to convince myself that our love would be enough to bridge the gap between us, that I could make up for my shortcomings. But the truth is, I havenât. Iâve barely tried to learn about you and your world. Youâve carried so much of the burden, of the weight of our relationship, and I just let you.
You deserve someone who wonât let you do that. Someone who will learn every gesture, every sign there is in the vocabulary of sign language, who will work tirelessly to meet you where you are.
That someone isnât me.
I hate myself for not being enough for you. I hate that I couldnât give you what you deserve. And I hate that my love for you isnât enough to fix this.
You always tried to meet me where I was, even when I couldnât meet you halfway. I see that now. And I hate that I didnât see it sooner.
I think about how happy weâve been, and yet thereâs always this weight, this worry I canât stop thinking about. Even in our brightest moments, something felt... off. Itâs not because of you, but because of me. It's slowly destroying me.
I hope that someday, you find someone who will love you the way you deserve to be loved. Someone who will put in the effort I didnât, someone who will never let you feel alone.
Iâll never stop loving you, Y/N. I just hope that letting you go gives you the chance to find the happiness I couldnât give you.
Iâm so sorry.
- Chenle
Your hands trembled, shaking the letter slightly, your tears dripping onto the paper and smudging the ink. You pressed your lips together, trying to stifle the sobs threatening to escape, but it was no use.
The dolphin on the table stared back at you as if it held all the memories youâd sharedâthe laughter, the quiet moments, the love.
You folded the letter carefully, placing it back in the envelope as your tears continued to fall. Sitting there in the silence, you felt the weight of his absence settle around you.
And yet, even through the pain, you couldnât bring yourself to blame him.
Because you understood. And that hurt the most.
TAGLIST âŹÂ @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @ldh0000 @polarisjisung @peterm4rker @sleepyvic @chenlesfavorite (u too pookie)
the fact that i love angst fics but the synopsis of this one alone made me cry because thats exactly how my relationship ended last week after almost one year being together đŁ i wann cry again
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