UNEXPECTED || minsung
You really didn’t expect to be driving to Changbin’s party tonight, yet here you were. It was Halloween night and you had planned to stay in until he practically begged you to come—insisting you do something fun for once. You were fine with staying home, doing crafts, painting again. You’d been painting a lot since you and Leeknow broke up. Trying new things, finding ways to fill the quiet spaces he used to take up.
You were really hoping he wouldn’t be at the party—but unfortunately, he was still Changbin’s friend.
You pulled into the driveway, headlights sweeping over a mess of cars spilling onto the road. You didn’t even know half these people. Turning off the car, you stepped out, immediately feeling ridiculous in your last-minute cat costume.
Inside, the music was loud, the bass vibrating in your chest. Changbin’s house was massive—french doors open to a backyard filled with laughter, smoke, the smell of liquor and weed heavy in the air.
You found Yeonjun almost immediately. He grinned when he saw you, pulling you into the crowd. “Finally! You made it!”
“Yeah,” you said, smiling a little, though it didn’t reach your eyes.
“Come on, y/n,” he said, grabbing your hand. “Have fun for once!”
You let him drag you outside, where the night air was cool and sticky against your skin. He spun you once, trying to make you laugh, and for a moment, you almost did. Yeonjun was good like that. He knew about Leeknow. He knew the wound was still fresh, even after five months. After years of being together, it still hurt to think about how easily he’d walked away.
And then you saw him.
Sitting off to the side near the firepit, drink in hand, was Leeknow. His costume was a black shirt and cat ears, like he’d put in zero effort just as you had done—but somehow he still looked perfect. Beside him sat Jisung.
Jisung.
You weren’t close, just mutual friends through Changbin. You remembered Leeknow claiming he couldn’t stand him. Said Jisung talked too much, got under his skin. But now they were sitting together, shoulders nearly touching, laughing over something you couldn’t hear.
“Yeonjun, let’s go get a drink,” you said suddenly.
“Why—oh.” He followed your gaze, then nodded. “Right. Let’s go.”
You moved toward the makeshift bar, keeping your body turned away, pretending like you didn’t see the way Leeknow’s laughter softened when Jisung said something. Pretending you didn’t notice how natural they looked together.
“Don’t let him stop you from having fun,” Yeonjun said quietly.
You nodded, but he wandered off soon after, leaving you alone with your drink. You were stirring it idly, trying to ignore the sound of your heartbeat, when you heard that familiar voice.
“Hey.”
You froze.
Turning around, you saw him—eyes a little glassy, red from drinking. He gave a faint, crooked smile, one you used to love.
“Oh… uh, hey.”
“Didn’t think I’d see you here,” he said, voice rougher than usual. “Just thought I’d come see how you’ve been, you know…”
You swallowed. “Mhm. I’ve been good. You?”
He shrugged. “Yeah. I’ve been… fine.”
But you could feel the weight behind it, the tension crawling up your throat. It felt too natural, talking to him. That easy rhythm that never went away, even after everything.
You glanced past him and saw Jisung still sitting there, not talking to anyone now—just watching. Not glaring. Just… waiting.
Waiting for him.
You set your drink down, hand trembling slightly. “I should go find Yeonjun.”
“Wait,” he said quickly, his hand brushing your wrist. You froze at the contact. It was instinct to look up, to search his face for the softness you used to know.
But his eyes flickered—not to you, not really. They flickered somewhere past you, back to the firepit where Jisung sat.
He let go. “Never mind. Have fun tonight, yeah?”
You didn’t say anything. Just nodded, even though your throat burned. You turned and walked off, pushing through the crowd, ignoring Yeonjun calling after you.
Inside, the music was too loud. It drowned out everything except the one thing you didn’t want to feel—the sharp, unbearable ache of realizing that maybe you’d been replaced long before you’d even broken up.
Somehow in the night you ended up tipsy and in places you knew you shouldn’t be—like in some random bathroom of Changbin’s house, with Leeknow pressed against you, his breath warm and tasting faintly of vodka and mint. His hands were on your waist, steady but desperate, and his lips moved against yours like they’d never stopped knowing you.
It felt like everything fell away. The noise, the lights, the months apart—gone. Just him and you, like before. Like the world hadn’t changed.
For a moment, you let yourself believe this was how things were meant to be. That maybe it wasn’t over, that maybe all the pain and confusion had been some stupid mistake. You were just happy to have him again, even if it felt toxic and wrong.
But then his phone started buzzing in his pocket. Once. Then again. The sound felt louder than the music outside, cutting right through you.
He froze, lips still barely brushing yours. The screen lit up behind you in the mirror.
Jisung.
Your stomach dropped.
Leeknow pulled back, breath shaky, wiping his mouth like the contact burned him. He turned away, fumbling with the phone. “Okay—what is going on?” you asked, your voice small, almost cracking.
“Nothing,” he muttered quickly, not looking at you.
“Leeknow…”
He finally looked up, eyes glassy and guilty, his lips turned down in that familiar pout—the one you used to kiss away. But now it just made you sick.
“Don’t,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “Please don’t ask.”
“Are you—” You couldn’t even finish. The words felt heavy, caught in your throat. “Are you with him?”
He blinked, jaw clenching. “It’s not—no. It’s not like that.”
“Then what is it?” you pressed, stepping closer. “You said you couldn’t stand him, Minho.”
He flinched at his name. “I didn’t mean it.”
The silence that followed was unbearable. You could hear the muffled music, people laughing outside the door, the dripping faucet. And you just stood there, staring at him, realizing that every single second of the last few months was leading to this moment—to the truth you already knew.
You took a shaky breath, eyes stinging. “You could’ve just told me,” you whispered. “You didn’t have to make me feel crazy.”
“I didn’t mean to—”
“But you did.” You laughed, but it came out broken. “God, you really did.”
He reached for you, and you stepped back. The movement was small but enough. The look on his face—regret, confusion, something like pain—would’ve shattered you months ago. Now it just hollowed you out.
The phone buzzed again.
Jisung this time.
“You’re such a piece of shit to me,” you said, voice cracking somewhere between a whisper and a scream. It came out half slurred, your drunk state betraying how much you’d been holding back. Tears blurred your vision, spilling over before you could stop them.
Leeknow didn’t say anything. He just stood there, jaw tight, eyes darting toward the floor like he couldn’t bear to look at you. That only made it worse.
“You don’t even get it,” you said, choking on the words. “You don’t get to kiss me like that and then go running back to him.”
His mouth opened like he wanted to say something, but nothing came out. Just that same guilty look. That same silence.
You shook your head, a bitter laugh leaving your lips. “You know what’s funny? I saw the way you looked at him tonight. The way he looked at you. The way you laughed together. God, even your stupid mannerisms.” You wiped your tears roughly with the back of your hand. “That used to be me, Minho. That was us.”
He winced at his name again, and that hurt too—like you didn’t even have the right to call him that anymore.
Before he could say anything, you shoved past him, fumbling for the door handle and stumbling out into the hallway. The noise of the party swallowed you instantly—music thumping, voices echoing, laughter spilling from every room. It all blurred together, a dizzy, spinning mess.
You pushed through people until you were outside again, the cold air hitting you like a slap. It didn’t help. The tears just came harder.
“Y/n?”
You turned at the sound of Changbin’s voice. He was standing a few feet away, drink in hand, eyebrows knitting together as he saw you. You must’ve looked insane—mascara running, lips swollen, shaking slightly.
“What’s going on?” he asked, stepping away from the group he’d been laughing with. His voice softened when he saw your face. “Hey, hey—what happened?”
You tried to speak but your throat burned. A sob caught in your chest as you wiped your face again, shaking your head. “He—” You had to stop to breathe. “He kissed me, Bin.”
Changbin’s expression hardened immediately. “Who?”
“Leeknow,” you whispered. “In the bathroom.” You let out a humorless laugh. “He kissed me like—like nothing ever happened. And then his phone rang. It was Jisung.”
Changbin swore under his breath. “Are you kidding me right now?”
You shook your head. “He didn’t even deny it. He just stood there, and I—I could see it. The way he looks at Jisung, it’s not just… it’s not just me being stupid, right?”
“Y/n,” Changbin said, stepping closer, “you’re not stupid. He’s the one who can’t make up his mind.”
But you were already shaking your head again, voice breaking. “No, Bin. He did. He chose. I just didn’t want to see it.”
You leaned into him when he pulled you in, the warmth of his hoodie grounding you just enough to breathe again. The sobs came quietly this time, muffled against his shoulder.
Inside, through the open french doors, you could see Leeknow standing back near the bar. He was staring down at his phone, expression unreadable. Jisung appeared beside him, saying something, and Leeknow finally looked up—at him—and smiled that small, soft smile that used to belong to you.
That was when it really hit you.
It was over.
He wasn’t yours anymore.
The next morning hit you like a truck.
Your head was pounding, mouth dry, body heavy. Changbin had driven you home sometime around three, him and Yeonjun somehow making you laugh again—mostly by passing a joint around and pretending everything was fine. It didn’t fix anything, but it made the ache a little quieter.
You got up late, moving through your house as if last night hadn’t happened. You brushed your teeth, made tea, scrolled through your phone pretending not to see his name. For a second you almost convinced yourself it was all just a dream—until it hit you all over again. The bathroom. The kiss. The way his phone lit up with Jisungs name.
You groaned, pressing your palms to your eyes. “Stupid,” you muttered to yourself.
A few hours later, there was a knock at your front door. You weren’t expecting anyone.
When you opened it, he was there.
Leeknow.
“Hey,” he said quietly. His hair was still messy, dark circles under his eyes. “Not sure if you still like these, but…” He lifted a small bakery box. “Cheesecakes. And um—flowers. I just grabbed some from the store.”
You looked down at them—tiny, mismatched, but familiar. Your chest tightened.
“I don’t really know what to say,” he went on, voice low. “I hope you don’t completely hate me.”
You swallowed hard. “I don’t.”
He nodded, eyes flicking between the box in his hands and your face. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” he admitted. “But I know I fucked up. And I care about you. I do—I really do. I never stopped caring.”
You stayed quiet.
He rubbed the back of his neck, voice faltering. “But I just… I don’t know. Me and Jisung, we—uh—really like each other? I mean, I don’t know how he feels exactly, but I know how I feel.” His laugh was awkward and sad, the kind that ends in a breath instead of a sound. “God, this sounds awful.”
You smiled, though your eyes were stinging. “It’s okay. It just hurts, which I knew it would. But I don’t hate you. Especially not when you’re being honest.”
He exhaled, shoulders dropping. For a second, neither of you spoke. You just stood there in the doorway, the quiet settling between you like fog—thick, familiar, hard to see through.
“This is really hard,” he said finally. “I barely know my own feelings.”
“I understand,” you said softly. Then, after a pause, “But if it makes you feel any better… I think he likes you too.”
He looked up, eyes wide for a moment, and then a tiny, nervous smile broke across his face. The kind you hadn’t seen in months. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you said, smiling back
He nodded slowly, as if that was all he needed to hear. “Thank you.”
You took the box of cheesecakes from him, fingers brushing his. “Thank you—for telling me.”
There wasn’t anything else to say. He lingered like he wanted to, but eventually he turned, walking back down your driveway, one hand shoved in his pocket.
You closed the door quietly behind him.
And for the first time in a long time, the sadness felt clean—like something that was finally allowed to end.
