âł SYNOPSIS: the whale takes you to places, together.
>>>
Minhyuk likes painting.
Itâs nothing new to come home late at night from work to see Minhyuk sitting in the living room with his easel set up in the dim light, bottom lip tucked between his teeth in concentration as he mixes his paint just right, muttering to himself in about no, thatâs not the colour I wanted or how to earth do I do this?Â
He sometimes doesnât notice you there, so taken with his work, and you must say you have no reason to disturb him. First of all, you donât want to distract him from his work, and secondly, it is attractive to see your normally goofy and puppy like boyfriend so quiet and intense, sketching outlines onto his canvas. You could sit on the couch and watch him for hours with the sounds of his âBob Ross-ahjussiâ playing in the background, but unfortunately, he always realises that youâre there in a few minutes or so, shrieking that high pitched dolphin squeal as he rushes to cover his paining from your eyes, as if you havenât been staring at him working on it for the last ten minutes.
pairing: onesided hyungwon x reader, kihyun x reader  pov: unnamed reader, hyungwon-centric, third person
genre: angst lol  words: ~6200Â
*optional* follow-up to [ selfish ], but can be read standalone
warnings: slowburn? self-insecurities, unhappy open-ending, romanticism about insecurities, you may need a tissue
notes: was i uploading this in parts? yes. did I give up finish the rest in one go and post it as a whole work? yes. give me some love guys, i need validation for subsistence.Â
(writing gets worse as it goes fyi, bc i gave up lol)
Hyungwon realizes, she must be special somehow, because Kihyun brings her home.
Heâs not exactly surprised. They all have some loves, some secretive, fleeting, some lost. The thing is, itâs Kihyun, and the ones that Kihyun brings home are few and even farther in between.Â
There is nothing particularly distinctive about her. Sheâs pretty in her own way, a little shy, but pleasant in her politeness and perfectly amiable. At second glance, sheâs not really the type Kihyun usually goes for, either.
Albeit a little wary, he is neutral. Relationships for people like them were always a tough ocean to weather, intricately complicated, too often ending in sunken shipwreck. For Hyungwon, fallen hearts are just too difficult, bound together just to break and he has no qualms about breaking others to keep his own safe.
But thatâs no fault of hers, and the one she beats for is not him but Kihyun, so he has no reason for animosity.
When Kihyun leaves to prepare dinner, she doesnât follow him into the kitchen. She settles a careful distance next to him on the wrinkled leather couch, away from the chattering noise of Minhyuk and Changkyun at war in the game room. A seeker of silence, he observes as he raises his head and her eyes meet his. The contact has her taken aback, her pupils rounded and wide with innocent alarm. He gives a nonchalant, non-committal nod, and she slowly blinks back, owlish.
Itâs so oddly adorable, heâs secretly charmed.
He leans back and lets his eyelids lower.
The silence isnât awkward at all. In the most unexpected way, her quiet presence is comforting. Thereâs a slight crick in his neck, but his consciousness drifts off as he listens the faint rhythm of her breathing. A blissful haze creeps over his mind, heâs about to dip into the sweet nothingness of sleep when a hand presses against his cheek gently. Without thinking, he nuzzles into the warm skin.
Still gentle, the hand shifts his position. He grunts in drowsy protest, nudging his face against the direction of the guided push. It refuses to let up, and he squints open in quick irritation, attack ready on his tongue.
All he can see is her.
A small pull is at the corner of her lips, and amusement gleams in her eyes.Â
âIâm sorry for bothering you, but itâs bad for your neck if you sleep like that,â she says softly, and Hyungwon only hears kindness.
His irritation vanishes into thin air, as quick as it came, and he allows her to move his head to lie on the cushioned armrest. Sheâll be good for Kihyun, he thinks.
His eyelids close heavy. His muddled consciousness melts a crack in his guarded armour, and his lips are too loose. He finds himself mumbling out loud, look after him, Kihyun can be difficult, he means well, heâs usually too busy looking after us to look after himself.
âI donât think Iâll be able to look after him for long,â she whispers. Itâs almost inaudible in the silence.Â
He knows sheâs telling herself rather than answering him.
Hyungwon doesnât really understand, but he recognizes sadness and he thinks he feels a dull stirring in his chestâ
Then, his unconsciousness takes him completely.
.
.
.
âWhy are you here alone?â
His voice comes out raspy and it makes him sound cranky and ill-tempered. Itâs well past noon, but he had just rolled out of bed. Heâs still bleary eyed with the hangover of sleep, and a sleepy Hyungwon is never a happy Hyungwon.
Startled, like a deer in the headlights, she meets his gaze from her spot at the kitchen table.Â
âKihyun is out on a schedule with Minhyuk and Hyunwoo. He asked me to wait for him to come back,â she pauses in meek hesitance. Her lips part again as if she had more to say, but she purses them and looks away instead.
Hyungwon too, turns away without replying. The silence that floods the room is awkward enough that he feels some sort of internal cringe, but he does nothing to alleviate it. Everything is making his head hurt. He rubs out an oncoming migraine, and scuffing of wood against tile fills the soundlessness.
Sheâs out of her seat and rummaging around the kitchen cabinets. Tension is knitted between the blades of her shoulders, caution in every movement.
Distance.Â
He's all too aware. He sees the signs, the weight of reservation within, will withering at the pressure of possibly being unwanted.
A part of him gives way, and he sighs through his softness. He doesnât intend to regularly involve her in his life (like Minhyuk) or instant acceptance into a blossoming friendship (like Jooheon) just because sheâs dating one of his members, but he (admittedly) loves and respects Kihyun. He would like to be on good terms with her, something along the lines of the closer side of close acquaintances, and Hyungwon definitely doesnât want her to feel unwelcome.
âYou donât have to be so formal, and you donât have to explain to me why youâre here. Relax, youâre with Kihyun.â
She stiffens completely, arm frozen midair and hand disappeared in the depths of a cupboard. She doesnât turn her head to look at him.
âYou donât need to distance yourself,â Hyungwon continues, âweâre all glad that youâre here. Kihyunâs been really happy these weeks.âÂ
He hears her inhale deeply, a little shaky and unsteady, but she still doesnât turn around. Maybe he overstepped his bounds. Â
Unbidden, he walks out of the kitchen. He plops himself onto the leather couch, and he groans in frustration as he buries his face into his hands. He thinks of her back, her shoulders curled in, on guard and awaiting hostility. Youâve just made things worse. Why canât you just get alongâÂ
âHyungwon.âÂ
He spreads his fingers and peeks at her between the gaps.
âHyungwon,â she says again, somewhat shy. Her voice has always been soothing to his ears, but hearing his name was another experience. Itâs not quite a smile yet, but her mouth lifts slightly upwards.
She holds out a mug to him. Itâs his mug, sleek black with C.H.W. engraved on the handle that had been gifted to him for his birthday.Â
Heâs a little perplexed. âWhy are you making me coffee?â he canât help but ask, but he easily accepts the mug from her, touched by the detail.
Sheâs nowhere near as bright as the afternoon sun, but he thinks her eyes twinkle.Â
âYouâre with Kihyun, too. Shouldnât I look after you the way he will?â
She smiles, cheeky. Itâs a small smile, but itâs a start.Â
He blinks. Heâs not sure if its the aroma of coffee or if Kihyun had cleaned yesterday, but the light from the glass windows seem to sparkle gently.
He brings the mug to his lips and takes a sip.
Strange.
Itâs black coffee. Itâs black coffee, but it tastes somehow sweet.Â
Even stranger, Hyungwon doesnât mind the sweetness.
.
.
Hyungwon is at the wrong place at the wrong time.Â
Heâs a simple man, really. All he wants is his daily dose of caffeine in tranquility and peace, accompanied by the quiet buzz of city life. As fate would have it, a cruel mistress indeed, he ends up at the same cafe as her and Kihyun. They donât notice him, but drama finds him wherever he goes.
He watches as a girl saunters up to her, shoulders squared with arrogance, her perfect manicure tipped with cruelty. Dread dips down his spine as he recognizes her as one of Kihyunâs past loves, one of the ill-fated that ended messy and met death with spite.
âI still canât believe it, but word has it someone like you is Yoo Kihyunâs new other,â the girl bites to maim, voice sharp and steel-bladed. âAre you?â
He grits his teeth.
Where on earth did Kihyun go?
Heâs not involved but he doesnât exactly feel uninvolved. He wants to embrace the bliss of ignorance, blind his eyes and deafen his ears, to pass her off as another stranger. He doesnât know her well enough, he has no right to be involved, so it has nothing to do with him.
(He ignores the Kihyun would expect you to be involved lurking in the depths of his mind.)
Heâs always been passive in nature, unbothered by conflict, ready to run to keep the comfort of his status quo. A prey in a predatorâs disguise.Â
But Hyunwonâs body refuses to obey him, and his sight canât seem to focus anywhere else.
She looks up from her hot chocolate, bewildered at the hostility. Her pupils shake for a second, two, and then her expression shifts into an impasse, neutral without any trace of any emotion.
âI am.âÂ
âWhat makes you think youâre good enough for him?â The girl snarls, clearly airing out her disdain with no sense of misplaced blame.
It has nothing to do with me, donât get involved, nothing to do with me, repeats in his head but the anger is thrumming through his veins and his blood screams at him to do something. He pushes his chair back before he knows it, feet firm on wooden ground as he strides a long step forwardâ
âI donât,â she says quietly, but it rings loud against the noisy silence of the cafe business, âI never thought I was.â
âand he stops.
Her level gaze never falters, but the softness of her words donât match how hard and deep they strike him to the core. "Why do you think I'll meet a different end than you?" She shakes her head offers a bittersweet smile, more bitter than sweet, âI can assure you our endings wonât be much different.â
âKihyun isnât the type to change.â
The girl looks a little taken aback, but her tongue is tied and her malice breathing its last, dying breath.
The tension fizzles out like that.
.
.
.
âIâm so sorry, I left you alone in such a common place with so much traffic,â comes Kihyunâs worried, worried voice, warm and filled to the brim with genuine concern. âI saw her on my way back, did she talk to you? Did she give you any trouble?â
âNo, Kihyun. She didnât mean it. Sheâs was hurt, thatâs all, still not over her heartbreak.â
Kihyun scoffs, âHurt? Not over her heartbreak? She gave me the dirtiest stink eye earlier, if eyes had lasers I would be nothing but ashes.â
She sighs, but itâs fond.
Hyungwon can physically hear the way she folds and tucks away her raw ruefulness underneath a smile. âWe just talked a little, she reminded me how lucky I am for being with you.â
Kihyun laughs in love, amused and overflowing with happiness. Hyungwon wonders how Kihyun fails to pinpoint the uncertainty weighing her shoulders and the missing beats of her heart.Â
Why do you think Iâll meet a different end than you?
But it has nothing to do with him, so he takes a sip of his coffee.
Our endings wonât be much different.
Cold.
Hyungwon finds it difficult to swallow.
.
.
.
In his carelessness, he drops a glass.Â
Hyungwon sees the way the glass shatters onto the white tile floor in slow motion. Completeness, a whole, then imperfect, unmatched fragments, breaking into pieces and parts, parts and piecesâÂ
In a million diamond pieces, it glitters with breathtaking beauty and hidden cruelty, and in that beautiful cruelness, he cuts himself on the shattered shards.Â
Donât broken pieces combine into completeness? Arenât shattered shards an imperfect piece of perfection? Â
Rich redness dribbles down his palm, and he follows the blood flow, but his mind, lost, wandering in wonder.
A whole is a sum of its parts. How are parts summed together to make a whole?Â
A gasp.
âHyungwon!âÂ
He turns to the kitchen doorway, and she stands, struck, face colourless with concern.
How can you fix broken perfection when youâre missing shattered parts?
.
.
.
âYou need to be careful, Hyungwon.â
âItâs just a small wound,â he protests, indignation sparking alive, âitâll heal in no time.â
She huffs, blown up and adorably miffed as she blots liquid redness away from the bleeding cut on his palm. Itâs not like he wants an injury on his hand either, but Hyungwon canât help the upwards curl of his mouth as he watches her administer first aid.
âIt will heal,â she sighs, âyou donât need to get stitches, at least. But why were you letting yourself bleed out all over the glass?â
He laughs a little nervously. Well.
âI got lost in thought for a second...maybe?â
...
âMaybe you need to wean off your coffee addiction. On the contrary to popular belief, I think too much caffeine makes you lag.âÂ
In mid scoff, an involuntary hiss escapes him as she dabs alcohol over the open skin. She looks up with a playful frown on her face, âDoes it hurt, you big baby?â
âYouâre being mean,â he jokes, âmy heart hurts.â
But she agrees, humming nonchalantly, almost too nonchalant for the sudden depth to her voice. âThe worst wounds are the ones you canât see. The ones that hurt the most are the wounds that hurt the heart.â
âAnd wounds that hurt the heart,â she says, final, cradling his hand gently, âare the ones that others canât help you heal.â
He falls quiet, because heâs not quite sure how to respond. Thereâs too many secrets hidden among too many doors, and Hyungwon doesnât want to knock too hard and suddenly find himself an intruder. She finishes the wrapping of white bandages with a clean knot, tucking loose ends neatly into place, âWell, thatâs that.â
Nodding, Hyungwon rises to clean up the mess still on the floor, but she scrunches her nose and huffs at him, a silent bid to sit back down. Heâs too tired to argue, so he does, and swallows the little bit of guilt that lingers. He watches her pick up the glass, one cautious shard by shard, and he thinks she looks like sheâs collecting broken pieces of herself. His heart squeezes, he takes a deep breath, andâ
âThe gossip. Those rumors. You donât have to take that kind of behaviour from his exes, strangers, staff, whatever.â
She hums in true nonchalance, âIâm fine, really. Theyâre not asking the wrong questions, either.â
She sweeps up the remaining minuscule cuts on the floor, invisible to the eye but still shimmering, glinting with subdued beauty in the passover of light.Â
Then softer, like a little secret told out loud, âTheyâre asking the same questions I ask myself.â
Itâs the fact that Hyungwon knows she fully means every single word she says that makes his simmering emotions bubble over and burst.
âWhy? Why are you letting them hurt you? Why donât you tell Kihyun?â
âIt doesnât hurt meââ
âYou should tell Kihyun anyways, he would want to know!â
If I were Kihyun, I would want to know. I would need to know.
âI donât want to worry him when it doesn't bother me, and,â she stops, blinks once, and exhales the tiniest quiver in her voice away to calmnessâ
âIâll just be another goodbye in the end, anyway.â
Itâs absolutely absurd to Hyungwon. He doesnât know much about relationships, sure, he doesnât know much about love, but he knows Yoo Kihyun.
âIâve never seen him love anyone like he loves you,â he confesses, âyou have nothing to be afraid of.â
She looks at him, and his breath loses itself to the glint of soft tragedy in her eyes. He sees hopelessness at peace, he thinks sheâs too restrained for a heart that Kihyunâs so careful not to shatterâ
Hyungwon realizes sheâs been shattered all along, by her own hands.
Like broken glass pieces, sadness sparkling on cold tile floors.
âIâm not afraid heâll leave me,â she whispers, barely, and itâs the only thing that falls from her lips with complete certainty, âIâm waiting for when he will.â
Something stirs in his chest again.
This time, it aches.Â
.
.
.
The sun dips lower into the horizon, and the sunset stars flicker. Something about the dying light and the golden glow caught in the tangles of her hair pulls him in too deep and under the edge, the sky a thousand novas for a thousand old wounds gasping to resurface, and Hyungwon is just so tired of toeing lines.
Do you hate yourself?
The question leaves his lips before he realizes, four rogue little words escaping without a destination to cross an invisible boundary, but forever searching, searching and searching.
Her eyes lower to secrets and unspoken wisdom, and the corners of her lips pull up. Hyungwon holds his breath because, for a moment, he canât see starlight reflected in the glassy distance of her pupils. Itâs a complex blend of bittersweetness, the smile that she forms; a little amusement, a little morbidness, and his chest aches as he canât even begin to unravel everything in between. Then, sheâs so unbearably soft, almost unheard in the wind but piercing through the confines of his heart.
âWhy did you hate yourself, Hyungwon?â
He freezes. The orange afterglow of setting sunlight is still warm, but a tentative chill settles in icy pricks along his skin.
He remembers long nights, hard nights, sleepless nights, when exhaustion of the body and mind rooted so far into his soul that he just couldnât rest. He remembers moonlight misery reflecting off his glass windows, ghost whispers of not being good enough, not measuring up, never ever catching the trailing threads of success. Fake it until you make it, was what he was taught, but some part of him screamed he would never make it, and all his efforts, futile. He still doesnât know how he managed to pretend he glittered gold for so long while he believed he was dirt. She eyes him in his memories, all too knowing for someone that has not been through those experiences, and Hyungwon canât help but shudder.
âYou have that look, too. That look of someone who is going through or have gone through it. Itâs an almost crippling uncertainty, but itâs also not baseless insecurity, isnât it? The uneasiness can dull to almost nothing, but it never quite leavesââ
She breathes out into dusk, and shifts her head to hold his sight. He almost flinches, almost shys away from her eyes. For once, sheâs holding nothing back, and the bareness makes him feel too exposed, his steel armours overturned and vulnerabilities unearthed.Â
âYou have it, Hoseok has it, Minhyuk has it too, but Kihyunâs not one of you,â she says, dead center bullseye and an arrow straight through his heart. The way her voice floods with unconditional love and acceptance wants to bring Hyungwon on his knees. âYou know this better than I do as Kihyunâs longtime friend, donât you? This little something Kihyun canât understand, never will understand. He knows heâs someone the universe made to shine.â
She laughs lightly, fond but a bit dry, and stars are lost in the crescents of her eyes.
âIâm not as extreme as you seem to think, though. I donât hate myself, not at all. I wouldnât have said yes to Kihyun if it was like that.â
Confusion bursts, because Hyungwon just knows thereâs something more. His forehead wrinkles, concern flooding in his voice as he starts, âBut you...youâre not okayââ
His thoughts fade out into white noise as she raises her hand towards him and tiptoes. His pulse quickens seeing her so close, and he blinks in subtle panic. Then, he feels the warmth of her fingertips gently smoothing the tension folded between his brows away, and he just stares.
âItâs not so bad, Hyungwon, donât waste your worries on me,â she says, all quiet and tender, as if that could soften the hard blow to the hard truthâ
âI just donât know how to love myself.â
Thatâs even more awful, not knowing how, Hyunwon wants to argue, anger alive on her behalf, but he sees her sorrow and her unshed tears and the words die on his tongue. Instead, he reaches up and takes her hand into his.Â
Hyungwon gives her a gentle squeeze. Hating would be easier. Thereâs a thin line between love and hate. Love can bloom into hate and hate can grow into love, but what can be molded when it comes to an I donât know?Â
She gives him another bittersweet smile, understanding, and slips her hand away. The memory of warmth lingers on his skin with the sudden emptiness.
He watches her turn back out to the sky, but when he follows her gaze, the sky has already darkened several shades of night, the stars are not brighter but bleaker, and it feels like heâs falling.
.
.
.
Hyungwon dreams of broken glass, of gentle hands, of a beating heart that loves bravely without loving itself.Â
He collects the pieces of glittering glass into his hands, and it glows with injured iridescence in the mild lull of sunlight at dusk. Then, thereâs a heart in his hands, beating bare and bleeding.Â
It wonât stop beating even though it bleeds.Â
It bleeds through angry out-of-place stitches, too clean and disturbingly artificial. The thin threads do nothing but wound the heart more, tearing the flesh in uneven gashes at the seams.
With docile fingers, Hyungwon removes the stitches and lets it bleed, and the blood flow begins to lessen, from a rough river to a gentle trickle. His hands stain wet red, but soft pulses flutter against the skin of his palm and for a moment, he thinks the heart is beating for him.
He almost forgets how to breathe. His own heartbeat skips four times, and with each missed beat, he yearns harder and he falls deeper.
He thinks he would give his own to keep the heart beating.
I love you. I love you, I love youâ
I  l o v e  y o u.
He dreams.
Itâs just a dream.
.
.
.
Bad days come and bad days go. His bad days catch up to him to seize him at gunpoint, and Hyungwon surrenders without a fight. A dejavu to his silly teenage years, again, heâs a self-caged captive with invisible chains and no one else to blame.
Pathetic.
Thereâs a pit in his stomach, a void in his chest, darker than black and an endless hole. He wants to cry but his veins are bloodless, his emotions in overdrive and he feels too much and nothing all at once.
 He curls into himself more and he wishes everything would just stop and go awayâ
He groans inwardly when he hears the unmistakable click of the apartment door. A quick mental count of schedules tells him it has to be Minhyuk or Kihyun or both, and he really does not feel like humouring either in his current state. Then, he hears distinctly feminine footsteps and for some reason, relief stirs in the numbness of his core.
âHyungwonâŚ?â
Sheâs peering at him from the doorway. Her brows are furrowed, lips twisted into a frowning pout and Hyungwon knows she can tell something is wrong. She disappears down the hallway, and returns with a pillow and a blanket.Â
Hyungwon lets her maneuver him around, obediently lifting his head so she can slide the pillow underneath. She tucks the blanket up to his chin and makes sure his head properly supported by the pillow, and her easy acceptance already makes something in him more grounded.
âDo you need some time alone?âÂ
He shakes his head, âCan you stay?âÂ
He only needs to ask once. Without question, she settles on the floor next to him. Normally, Hyungwon would be a little unnerved at the way she was watching him so carefully, but he knows her now and her kindness, so he finds himself relaxing in her air of concern and comfort instead.Â
In a smaller voice, he admits, âI donât think I want to be alone right now.â
Hyungwon thinks heâs a grown man and he still canât handle the width of his emotions, canât hide them or mask them long enough without cracking miserably at the edges.Â
âIâm pathetic, arenât I,â he turns to her and his eyes water.
âOh Hyungwon,â she coos with a sigh, leaning closer, she brushes wisps of his hair out of his face, âof course not. It's okay not to be okay.â
Her fingers kiss his eyelids so he lets his eyes falls shut and listens to her over the beat of his pulse.
âYouâre more than what anything thinks of you, Hyungwon,â her touch trails the curve of his nose, âYouâre more and what you think of you.â
âYouâre doing your best, and thatâs enough.â
At that, he opens his eyes to look at her, pointedly.
âYou should tell that to yourself, too. Take your own advice,â he huffs.
She smiles back, amused but a little sullen. She presses a finger against the thickness of his lips. âThatâs the secret, isnât it? The fight between what you know and what you feel. Itâs a losing war for my knows, though.â
His lips tingle at the phantom touch of her fingertips.
Her eyes are clear and deep with untold insecurities that he thinks he could drown in them. He wants to drown in them. He doesnât understand why Kihyun canât see them, even if he doesnât understand them.
His heart skips, falling, and heâs not sure if heâs anchoring himself or his heart when he reaches out and grasps at the soft knit of her sweater. She gently pats his arm in a soothing gesture, âItâs okay, Iâll stay, Hyungwon.â
He closes his eyes again. He doesnât let go and he seals his fate, fallen.
I love you.
Itâs not just a dream.
.
.
.
When he wakes, sheâs still on the floor next to him, but her fingers are slotted in-between his. Sheâs asleep and her cheek is nestled close by his side; Hyungwon canât help but smile at the soft little exhales of her breathing. He keeps their fingers entwined while he collects his consciousness, then, he notes, thereâs a blanket carefully draped over her.
He hears Kihyun singing from the kitchen, the faint sizzling of stir-fry, along with muffled clatters of pots and pans. Hyungwon slips his hand away.
Later, he realizes they cancelled their date. She waves him off and just asks if heâs feeling better. Kihyun too, is not bothered at all, tells him to take care of himself and never asks for an explanation.
Love fills him, and Hyungwon knows he matters to both of them, but reality checks and remorse quickly follows.
He canât do this to Kihyun.
.
.
.
Kihyun doesnât understand, but he does.Â
Uncertainty. Uneasiness. Insecurity. The cycle of having doubt constantly clawing at your insides, stitching invisible wounds, then waking up next to anxiety and bringing misery to bed.Â
Heâs past that. Heâs supposed to be past that. Itâs been years since he had last seen the stranger of insecurity and self-hate, but he still remembers the struggle as vividly as yesterday.
Itâs been a long time since Hyungwon had truly hated himself.
The clock turns three am and he thinks of her. He thinks of gentleness and unconditional acceptance, of her eyes and her smile. He thinks of the way sheâs broken without bleeding, of how sheâs so capable of holding herself so sturdy in her uncertainty.Â
And hate crawls out of his grave, his familiar stranger. His ears ring to the trembling noise thrumming in his veins, his heart flutters painfully, and thereâs something heâs been denying for far too long.
Hyungwon realizes, he knows why heâs been hating, why hate has slithered out of his slumbering shadows to strangle him blue.
He hates himselfâ
He hates himself for falling in love with a heart that belongs to someone else.
He hates himself for falling in love so completely, so irreversibly, that he would be okay with anything as long as that someone else learns how to love happily.
Maybe, most of all, he hates himself for loving so selflessly.
.
.
.
Fallen hearts are bound together just to break, he believed.
He was wrong.
Hyungwon isnât bounded, but he would still break his fallen heart and hand it over on a golden platter if his broken pieces could fix hers.
.
.
.
The walls in their home are too thin.Â
âI donât know, Kihyun. I canât, not yet.â
âWhy not? You get along fine with my members. My family isnât much different.â
âItâs not that. Itâs just. I. I donât know if Iâm confident enough.âÂ
The adoration in Kihyunâs chuckles are hardly filtered out by the walls.
âItâs fine, I'm confident one. I have enough confidence for the both of us. Itâs like how I love you and how Iâm loving enough for the both of us.â
No, Hyungwon thinks, thatâs not helping her at all.
âYouâll be fine because Iâm by your side. For now, just think about it, okay?â
He hears her breathe out, long and winded.Â
âOkay, Iâll think about it, but give me a little more time.â
He doesnât find the embrace of sleep, that night.
.
.
.
What is love when you love something broken?
Is it love for what is was before it became shattered parts and pieces? The memories of when it was whole?
Is it love for what it could be if it was built back together whole? The potential of being fixed?
Or is it love because itâs broken?Â
Love for it being broken, love because the brokenness is in your hands to break further or to fix.
Kihyun, Hyungwon wants to plead, wants to ask, wants to beg, donât just love her for being broken.
.
.
.
She looks like she wants to cry.Â
Her eyes are dry, but something about the way she blinks and squeezes her eyes shut gives her away.Â
His heart hurts, seeing her like this. He wishes he could cradle her face in his hands and tenderly rub the exhaustion out of her eyes. Instead, he takes a seat next to her and purses his lips.
âAre you okay?âÂ
She shakes her head, âNo, I don't think I am.â
Hyungwon frowns. He spreads his arms and pats his chest, an open invitation. She takes it, leaning in, tucking herself under his chin and resting her forehead on his shoulder. She inhales, shaky and unsteady.
âKihyun tells that Iâll be okay because heâs with me, because he loves me. Does that mean I wonât be okay if itâs just me? Thatâs not right, isnât it? But then, without him, what am I?â
âYouâre just you,â he says, and he wishes he was wiser, with more words to give, âthatâs already more than enough.â
He feels her eyes close against his collarbone, a brief flutter of lashes and she admits, âI donât think I can learn how to love myself.â
âWhy? I was worse than you, I hated myself. Iâm past it now, and you can too.â
Against him, she shakes, and her voice rises a pitch higher, a touch more frantic, âIt seems like such a faraway never and I donât believe in myself. How can I believe he loves me when I donât love myself? I know he does. Itâs not about him, Iâm not insecure about him loving me.âÂ
And Hyungwon knows. When it came to Kihyunâs love, for her, it was never insecurity.Â
âI know Kihyun and I canât go on like this. He doesnât understand and I thought it was okay but itâs not. I donât expect anything of him, but Iâll still hurt when it ends. But it canât hurt any worse than now, can it?â
She shudders, hands clutching at his shirt as she buries her face in it. Even muffled, the way her voice breaks off is strikingly clear.
âI love him, Hyungwon. But loving him is hurting me.â
His heart throbs in waves of unadulterated pain, a daggerâs gash through muscle.
Sheâs close to tears. A dry sob leaves her lips, and he hates the sound of her giving up.Â
âI canât do this, Hyungwon.â
âYou can,â he says, patting her back. Because I love you, he wants to say, because I can see the whole picture from your broken parts. A different sort of beauty, shattered but complete like a stained glass mosaic, lit up in colour at sunset. I will wait while you piece them together, a puzzle, one step at a time.Â
âIt would be so much easier if I could believe you,â she whispers.
Hyungwon wishes he could hold her forever, chase away her demons and make her believe.
.
.
.
Hyungwon finds himself at the wrong place at the wrong time.
Heâs entering the key pin when the door pushes open with a resounding click. Kihyun doesnât see him, his sharp profile facing straight ahead and somewhat in a trance. Heâs one feet out the door, but the other foot lags behind, hesitant, as if he canât bear to exit. He stays like that for a few minutes, and Hyungwon canât bring himself to move.
Then, Kihyun sees him, but he squints as if heâs not sure heâs really there. Hyungwon can see wet complication glistening against the redness of his eyes, and the shorter man quickly blinks a few times.
âMake sure sheâs okay,â he says, thickly, and he swallows and stops as if each word caused him torment, âplease.â
Oh.
Even if it had to happen, he didnât think it would happen this soon.
Hyungwon can only nod.
Kihyun turns and leaves, and he looks like heâs leaving something for eternity, as if he was going somewhere he could never return. He can see the shorter manâs shoulders heave, but he never looks back.
Hyungwon knows.
If Kihyun looked back, he would stay.
Hyungwon has never seen prideful Kihyun look so small, so defeated, so wounded.
.
.
.
He finds her fading into the dim glow of the kitchen. Her face is passive, blank eyes unfocused. Sheâs staring off into glazed memories, lost in newfound nothingness. His searching gaze zeros in to her hands, her fingers pressured white from their grip on the marble counter, clutching the edge for life as if she would fall forever, a bottomless drop.
He hears her breathing quiver, and dread builds heavy in the pit of his stomach, queasy.
He clears his throat hesitantly, swallowing some uneasiness.
At his cue, she turns towards him, and all he can see are defeated eyes, bleary but glossy, glistening with heartbreak. His chest squeezes, tight and with worry.
âHyungwon,â her voice is so drenched, trembling with weakness but still feebly trying to hold herself together. She takes another breath, and he can physically see something in her break. âHyungwon,â she whispers his name in a small, wobbly breath, and he hates the way it sounds.
In haste, he approaches her and places an unsteady arm around her shoulders.
Itâs the final straw that breaks her completely.
She curls into him, as if seeking comfort to ease the chaos in her mind and the war in her heart. He can almost hear her shattering, and her already shattered pieces grinding into dust.
âHyungwon,â she tries again, âKihyunââÂ
Her voice breaks with wetness. He hugs her closer to him.
âI know, itâs okay,â he soothes, âYou donât have to say it. I know. Iâm sorry, Iâm so sorry.âÂ
He tucks her head under his chin, his hand a supporting pillar against a crumbling building at her back. Sheâs shaking, unbearably tiny and he wonders how he can keep her from falling apart in his arms, from whole to pieces and from pieces to scattered ashes.
A whimper escapes her, then a sob, another, louder, and it escalates into hysteria.
He purses his lips, the beat of his pulse pounding with second-hand pain. The saltine wetness that seeps through his shirt burns hot acid on his skin. Each sob is a poisoned dart aimed straight at his vitals, and he keens and keens. His own eyes sting and he lowers his eyelids with heavy exhale.
It hurts.
Even if it meant his heart breaking on the sidelines, he wishes they ended with a happily ever after. He knows itâs out of his hands, but he wishes he couldâve done more for her and Kihyun.
Still, a stupidly selfless fool.
She chokes on her own tears and her hand fists into the fabric of his jacket. Her grief trembles right into his chest, right next to his heart, and his heart palpitates with torment. He wonders if it is possible for his heart explode from the anguish.
This hurts so much more.
His stupid heart, fallen and still falling, bleeding with cupidâs poisoned arrow shot through his pulsing flesh.Â
Hyungwon realizes, he would rather have his heart breaking over a million times than watch hers break once.
DREAM WHY ARE YOU VAGUING MEEE I'M SORRY!!! đđđ (I'm sorry it wasnt intentional, my mom came home and I had to look like I was doing chores, lol.)
maybe, most of all, he hates himself for loving so selflessly.
pairing: onesided hyungwon x reader, kihyun x reader  words: ~770
*optional* follow-up to [ selfish ]
In his carelessness, he drops a glass.Â
Hyungwon sees the way the glass shatters onto the white tile floor in slow motion. Completeness, a whole, then imperfect, unmatched fragments, breaking into pieces and parts, parts and piecesâÂ
In a million diamond pieces, it glitters with breathtaking beauty and hidden cruelty, and in that beautiful cruelness, he cuts himself on the shattered shards.Â
Donât broken pieces combine into completeness? Arenât shattered shards an imperfect piece of perfection? Â
Rich redness dribbles down his palm, and he follows the blood flow, but his mind is lost to wonder.Â
A whole is a sum of its parts. How are parts summed together to make a whole?Â
A gasp.
âHyungwon!âÂ
He turns to the kitchen doorway, and she stands, struck, face colourless with concern.
How can you fix broken perfection when youâre missing shattered parts?
.
.
.
âYou need to be careful, Hyungwon.â
âItâs just a small wound,â he protests, indignation sparking alive, âitâll heal in no time.â
She huffs, blown up and adorably miffed as she blots the liquid redness away from the bleeding cut on his palm. Itâs not like he wants an injury on his hand either, but Hyungwon canât help but lift the corners of his mouth upwards.
âIt will heal,â she sighs, âyou donât need to get stitches, at least. But why were you letting yourself bleed out all over the glass?â
He laughs a little nervously.
âI got lost in thought for a second...maybe?â
â...Maybe you need to ween off your coffee addiction. I think too much caffeine makes you lag.âÂ
In mid scoff, he lets out an involuntary hiss as she dabs alcohol over the wound. She looks up with a playful frown on her face, âDoes it hurt, you big baby?â
âYouâre being mean,â he jokes, âmy heart hurts.â
But she agrees, humming nonchalantly, almost too nonchalant. âThe worst wounds are the ones you canât see, and the ones that hurt the most are the ones that others canât help heal.âÂ
He falls quiet, because heâs not quite sure how to respond. Thereâs too many secrets and too many doors, and Hyungwon doesnât want to knock too hard and suddenly find himself an unwelcome intruder. She cradles his hand gently as she twists white bandages around the curves of his palm and the valley of his fingers, and she finishes with a clean knot. âWell, thatâs done.â
Hyungwon rises to clean up the mess still on the floor, but she scrunches her nose and huffs at him to sit back down. Heâs too tired to argue, so he does, and swallows the little bit of guilt that lingers. He watches her pick up the glass, one cautious shard by shard, and he thinks she looks like sheâs collecting broken pieces of herself. His heart squeezes, he takes a deep breath, andâ
âThe gossip. Those rumors. You donât have to take that kind of behaviour from his exes, strangers, staff, whatever.â
She hums, noncommital, âIâm fine, really. Theyâre not asking the wrong questions, either.â
She sweeps up the remaining minuscule cuts on the floor, invisible to the eye but still shining, sparkling, glittering in the passover of light.Â
Softer, like a little secret told out loud, âTheyâre asking the same questions I ask myself.â
Itâs the fact that Hyungwon knows she fully means every single word she says that makes his simmering emotions burst.
âWhy? Why are you letting them hurt you? Why donât you tell Kihyun?â
âIt doesnât hurt meââ
âYou should tell Kihyun anyways, he would want to know!â
If I were Kihyun, I would want to know. I would need to know.
âI donât want to worry him when it doesn't bother me, and,â she stops, blinks once, and exhales the tiniest quiver in her voice away to calmnessâ
âIâll just be another goodbye in the end, anyway.â
Itâs absolutely absurd to Hyungwon. He doesnât know much about love, but he knows Kihyun.
âIâve never seen him love anyone like he loves you,â he confesses, âyou have nothing to be afraid of.â
She looks at him, and his breath loses itself to the glint of soft tragedy in her eyes. He sees hopelessness at peace, he thinks sheâs too restrained for a heart that Kihyunâs so careful not to shatterâ
Hyungwon realizes sheâs been shattered all along, by her own hands.
Like broken glass pieces, sadness sparkling on cold tile floors.
âIâm not afraid heâll leave me,â she whispers, barely, and itâs the only thing that falls from her lips with complete certainty, âIâm waiting for when he will.â
maybe, most of all, he hates himself for loving so selflessly.
pairing: onesided hyungwon x reader, kihyun x reader  words: ~690
*optional* follow-up to [ selfish ]
Hyungwon is at the wrong place at the wrong time.Â
Heâs a simple man, really. All he wants is his daily dose of caffeine in tranquility and peace, accompanied by the quiet buzz of city life. As fate would have it, a cruel mistress indeed, he ends up at the same cafe as her and Kihyun. They donât notice him, but drama finds him wherever he goes.
He watches as a girl saunters up to her, shoulders squared with arrogance, her perfect manicure tipped with cruelty. Dread dips down his spine as he recognizes her as one of Kihyunâs past loves, one of the ill-fated that ended messy and met death with spite.
âI still canât believe it, but word has it someone like you is Yoo Kihyunâs new other,â the girl bites to maim, voice sharp and steel-bladed. âAre you?â
He grits his teeth.
Where on earth did Kihyun go?
Heâs not involved but he doesnât exactly feel uninvolved. He wants to embrace the bliss of ignorance, blind his eyes and deafen his ears, to pass her off as another stranger. He doesnât know her well enough, he has no right to be involved, so it has nothing to do with him.
(He ignores the Kihyun would expect you to step in lurking in the depths of his mind.)
Heâs always been passive in nature, unbothered by conflict, ready to run to keep the comfort of his status quo. A prey in a predatorâs disguise.Â
But Hyunwonâs body refuses to obey him, and his sight canât seem to focus anywhere else.
She looks up from her hot chocolate, bewildered at the hostility. Her pupils shake for a second, two, and then her expression shifts into an impasse, neutral without any trace of any emotion.
âI am.âÂ
âWhat makes you think youâre good enough for him?â The girl snarls, clearly airing out her disdain with no sense of misplaced blame.
It has nothing to do with me, donât get involved, nothing to do with me, repeats in his head but the anger is thrumming through his veins and his blood screams at him to do something. He pushes his chair back before he knows it, feet firm on wooden ground as he strides a long step forwardâ
âI donât,â she says quietly, but it rings loud against the noisy silence of the cafe business, âI never thought I was.â
âand he stops.
Her level gaze never falters, but the softness of her words donât match how hard and deep they strike him. "Why do you think I'll meet a different end than you?" She shakes her head offers a bittersweet smile, more bitter than sweet, âI can assure you our endings wonât be much different.â
âKihyun isnât the type to change.â
The girl looks a little taken aback, but her tongue is tied and her malice breathing its last, dying breath.
The tension fizzles out like that.
.
.
.
âIâm so sorry, I left you alone in such a common place with so much traffic,â comes Kihyunâs worried, worried voice, warm and filled to the brim with genuine concern. âI saw her on my way back, did she talk to you? Did she give you any trouble?â
âNo, Kihyun. She didnât mean it. Sheâs was hurt, thatâs all, still not over her heartbreak.â
Kihyun scoffs, âHurt? Not over her heartbreak? She gave me the dirtiest stink eye earlier, if eyes had lasers I would be nothing but ashes.â
She sighs, but itâs fond.
Hyungwon can physically hear the way she folds and tucks away her raw ruefulness underneath a smile. âWe just talked a little, she reminded me how lucky I am for being with you.â
Kihyun laughs in love, amused and overflowing with happiness. Hyungwon wonders how Kihyun fails to notice and fails to recognize the uncertainty weighing her shoulders and the missing beats of her heart.Â
Why do you think Iâll meet a different end than you?
But it has nothing to do with him, so he takes a sip of his coffee.
maybe, most of all, he hates himself for loving so selflessly.
pairing: onesided hyungwon x reader, kihyun x reader  pov: unnamed reader, hyungwon-centric, third person
genre: angst lol words: ~1080 out of 3000+
*optional* follow-up to [ selfish ]Â
can be read standalone, but selfish gives background context.
warnings:Â slowburn? kind of? nothing happens in part 1, lol.
notes: i decided to split it into parts because iâm still not finished writing it (partly due to writerâs block and lack of motivation, partly bc i took a hiatus) and itâs growing into a monster.
Hyungwon realizes she must be special somehow, because Kihyun brings her home.
Heâs not exactly surprised. They all have some loves, some secretive, most fleeting, some lost. The thing is, itâs Kihyun, and the ones that Kihyun brings home are few and even farther in between.
There is nothing particularly distinct about her. Sheâs pretty in her own way, a little shy, but pleasant in her politeness and perfectly amiable. At second glance, sheâs not really the type Kihyun usually goes for, either.
Albeit a little wary, Hyungwon is neutral. Relationships for people like them were always a tough ocean to weather, intricately complicated, too often ending in sunken shipwreck.
But thatâs no fault of her own, so he has no reason for animosity.
Kihyun leaves to prepare dinner, she doesnât follow him into the kitchen. She settles a careful distance next to him on the wrinkled leather couch, away from the chattering noise of Minhyuk and Changkyun at war in the game room. A seeker of silence, then. He raises his head and her eyes meets his, rounded and wide with innocent alarm. He gives her a nonchalant, non-committal nod.
She slowly blinks back, owlish. Itâs so oddly adorable, heâs secretly charmed.
He leans back and lets his eyelids lower.
The silence isnât awkward at all. In the most unexpected way, her quiet presence is comforting. Thereâs a slight crick in his neck, but his consciousness drifts off as he listens the faint rhythm of her breathing. A blissful haze takes over his mind, heâs about to dip into the sweet nothingness of sleep when a hand presses against his cheek gently. Without thinking, he nuzzles into the warm skin.
Still gentle, the hand shifts his position. He grunts in drowsy protest, nudging his face against the direction of the guided push. It refuses to let up, and he squints open in quick irritation, attack ready on his tongue.
All he can see is her.
A small pull is at the corner of her lips, and amusement gleams in her eyes.Â
âIâm sorry for bothering you, but itâs bad for your neck if you sleep like that,â she says softly, and Hyungwon only hears kindness.
His irritation vanishes into thin air, as quick as it came, and he allows her to move his head to lie on the cushioned armrest. Sheâll be good for Kihyun, he thinks.
His eyelids close heavy. His muddled consciousness melts a crack in his guarded armour, and his lips are too loose. He finds himself mumbling out loud, look after him, Kihyun can be difficult, he means well, heâs usually too busy looking after us to look after himself.
âI donât think Iâll be able to look after him for long,â she whispers. Itâs almost inaudible in the silence.Â
He knows sheâs telling herself rather than answering him.
Hyungwon doesnât really understand, but he recognizes sadness and he thinks he feels a dull stirring in his chestâ
Then, his unconsciousness takes him completely.
.
.
.
âWhy are you here alone?â
His voice comes out raspy and it makes him sound cranky and ill-tempered. Itâs well past noon, but he had just rolled out of bed. Heâs still bleary eyed with the hangover of sleep, and a sleepy Hyungwon is never a happy Hyungwon.
Startled, like a deer in headlights, she meets his gaze from her spot at the kitchen table,Â
âKihyun is out on a schedule with Minhyuk and Hyunwoo. He asked me to wait for him to come back,â she pauses in meek hesitance. Her lips part again as if she had more to say, but she purses them and looks away instead.
Hyungwon too, turns away without replying. The silence that floods the room is awkward enough that he feels some sort of internal cringe, but he does nothing to alleviate it. Everything is making his head hurt. He rubs out an oncoming migraine, and the scuffing of wood against tile fills the soundlessness.
Sheâs out of her seat and rummaging around the kitchen cabinets. Tension is knitted between the blades of her shoulders, caution in every movement.
Distance.Â
Itâs a little too familiar, he's all too aware. He sees the signs, the weight of reservation within, will withering at the pressure of possibly being unwanted.
A part of him gives way, and he sighs through his softness.
âYou donât have to be so formal, and you donât have to explain to me why youâre here. Relax, youâre with Kihyun.â
She stiffens completely, arm frozen midair and hand disappeared in the depths of a cupboard. She doesnât turn her head to look at him.
âYou donât need to distance yourself,â Hyungwon continues, âweâre all glad that youâre here. Kihyunâs been really happy these weeks.âÂ
He hears her inhale deeply, a little shaky and unsteady, but she still doesnât turn around. Maybe he overstepped his bounds. Â
Unbidden, he walks out of the kitchen. He plops himself onto the leather couch, groaning in frustration as he buries his face into his hands. He thinks of her back, her shoulders curled in, on guard and awaiting hostility. Youâve just made things worse. Why canât you just get alongâÂ
âHyungwon.âÂ
He spreads his fingers and peeks at her between the gaps.
âHyungwon,â she says again, with a tinge of shyness, âyou take your coffee black, right?â Her voice has always been soothing to his ears, but hearing his name was another experience. Her mouth lifts slightly at the corners, but itâs not quite a smile yet.
She holds out a mug to him. Itâs his mug, sleek black with C.H.W. engraved on the handle that had been gifted to him for his birthday.Â
Heâs a little perplexed. âWhy are you making me coffee?â he canât help but ask, but he easily accepts the mug from her, touched by the detail.
Sheâs nowhere near as bright as the afternoon sun, but he thinks her eyes twinkle.Â
âYouâre with Kihyun, too. Shouldnât I look after you the way he will?â
She smiles, cheeky. Itâs a small smile, but itâs a start. A step closer.
He blinks. Heâs not sure if its the aroma of coffee or if Kihyun had cleaned yesterday, but the light from the glass windows seem to sparkle gently.
He brings the mug to his lips and takes a sip.
Strange.
Itâs black coffee. Itâs definitely black coffee, but it tastes somehow sweet.Â
Even stranger, Hyungwon doesnât mind the sweetness.
I just wanted to check up on how you been doing, hope your exams went well. But honestly that last ome shot YOU DONE IT NOW *weeeps* you write so beautifully it literally hurts my heart TwT pls never stop đšđ¤
Do you need a bandaid? đ
I'm going to pretend like this hasn't been collecting dust in my box... SORRY I'M JUST REALLY BAD AT INTERACTING WITH PEOPLE.
I'm not so good with time and self management so I tend to drop off the face of the earth, that's all.
But I appreciate you and your support very much! Thank you for always coming by and making me feel less lonely. đ
You breathe out bitterness and you close your eyes, weary and too worn. You close your heart to sweet promises that always broke and soft kisses that bruised when they should have healed. You burn your roses and scatter the ashes to the wind, the starless nights where his body was close but his heart wasnât. He slept too soundly on the bed you shared with him, a bed woven of lies and lies upon lies. Â
Iâm yours. I would do anything for you. Iâm in love with you.
âI need you with me,â his voice is dark, and his hand tremors as he grasps your wrists like you are his lifeline, a last chance at salvation in a world of heavy sinners.Â
Youâre not a lifeline. Youâre a demon holding him by the noose, but he is the devil. His death would leave you drowning while you burn from the inside out, and he would make sure his doomed fate is meant for two.Â
âYou need me, but you donât love me,â you say, and the words come all too easily. It doesnât hurt you like it should.
You know it doesnât hurt him, either. Heâs desperate now, but he will never bleed. You may be comfort and familiarity, but there is no difference between you and another someone in another somewhere for him to put his mind at peace and escape from his hidden calamities.Â
But your veins are dry, too. You are both criminals, too guilty for surrender, on the run from living in a lie dipped in candied poison.
âThis love began with lies,â you carefully brush his hands away, tender cruelness on the curve of your lips, âso, at least, letâs end with a truth.â
I was in love with loving you, and youâ
you were in love with being in love.
âI donât love you, Changkyun, and youâve never loved me.â
Hyungwon dreams of broken glass, of gentle hands, of a beating heart that loves bravely without loving itself.
He collects the pieces of glittering glass into his hands, and it glows with injured iridescence in the mild lull of afternoon sunlight. Then, thereâs a heart in his hands, beating bare and bleeding.
It wonât stop beating even though it bleeds.
It bleeds through angry out-of-place stitches, too clean and disturbingly artificial. The thin threads do nothing but wound the heart more, tearing the flesh in uneven gashes at the seams.
With docile fingers, Hyungwon removes the stitches and lets it bleed, and the blood flow begins to lessen, from a rough river to a gentle trickle. His hands stain wet red, but soft pulses flutter against the skin of his palm and for a moment, he thinks the heart is beating for him.
He almost forgets how to breathe. His own heartbeat skips four times, and with each missed beat he falls deeper.
I dont wanna sound pushy but how long is it going to take? TT ^ TT can you be a spoiler fairy? Hyungwonnie is my ult bias and Im just so excited and so ready to cry with a box of tissues. uwu
Iâm spoiler fairy:
âIâve never seen him love anyone like he loves you,â he confesses, âyou have nothing to be afraid of.â
She looks at him, and his breath loses itself to the glint of soft tragedy in her eyes. He sees hopelessness at peace, he thinks sheâs too restrained for a heart thatâs never been shatteredâ
Hyungwon realizes sheâs been shattered all along, by her own hands.
âIâm not afraid heâll leave me,â she whispers, and itâs the first thing that falls from her lips with certainty, âIâm waiting for when he will.â
omg omg I love you so much, the heartbreaks you write about are so relatable and I just want to cry!! I'm so excited for your future works!!! what are you writing or planning to write next? lots of love xoxo
I love you for reading the words I write!
Next? It might take a while, but itâs Hyungwon for another breakup, and unrequited love.
Tagged by @serenzippity like, a century ago. Thank you for noticing me!
1. who is your bias?
I like all seven, I really do. Maybe not quite equally, but it all balances out at the end of the day. Iâm going to go with Minhyuk since heâs my tumblr namesake, and heâs the one I noticed first.
2. what made you notice them?
Iâm actually also sort of newish to the fandom as well. A clip of Monsta X-Ray (the peppero game) autoplayed on my Youtube. Minhyuk was so loud and active and his voice was so distinct that he was the only one I was paying attention to.Â
3. what is your favorite thing about them?
On camera, at least, his extroversion. He really is so bright. Good at talking, good at setting the mood, good at making things so much livelier.Â
4. who would initiate skinship more?
Me? Him??? Fifty-fifty, I think. I like hugs and nuzzles and linking arms.
5. who would hog the blankets more?
Me. I like to burrito myself.
6. who would be more clingy?
Him? I think? Iâm good at being alone without feeling lonely.
7. who would say I love you first?
Me. Iâm the type that says I love you easily, everyday, every other hour. There are different I love youâs with different meanings for different situations and different contexts, but theyâre still the same three words and the same eight letters.
8. who would be more easily flustered?
Me. My emotions are a roller-coaster. I get everything easily. Shy, flustered, sad, angry, embarrassed, happy, give me a break, please.
9. what cuddle position would you two have?
I actually... donât really like cuddling. Especially when Iâm trying to sleep. Remember I said I like to burrito in my blankets? Sorry, but itâs a burrito for one.
If I have to choose, I rather be big spoon than little spoon.Â
10. which colors remind you of them?
Itâs so overused, but warm gold like the sun. Also, a darker blue like the depths of the sea because, whales.
11. which season would you like to spend with them?
Autumn, my favourite season. Park walks with falling leaves!
12. who would bake cookies and who would steal the batter?
I would bake cookies, Minhyuk would steal the batter, and then weâd have to call an ambulance because lord knows that I canât bake to save my life and that batter was probably already toxic before it met the oven.
Can I tag, too? @unfadedbeauty and @atlas-scripts because these two bother me the most, and I mean this in the most loving way possible.
Thank god you wrote a sequel to an oxeye daisy that had a happy ending.... I thought I was going to die. It hit too close to my experiences No offence I loooove your writing and I love the sequel and its not angst but its kind of mature and bittersweet. Can you write actual fluff??
Iâm glad you liked it! I still think the âtrue endâ is the angst end, but it suddenly snowed in my city and I wanted to write something soft about snow and winter.
UhhhâŚmaybe, one day, someday. Fluff takes mastery. I can try, but keep your expectations low, lol.Â