#angstolympics

[diamonddaze01]

welcome to....

The ANGST OLYMPICS

🥇Step into the ring of raw emotions and heart-wrenching moments with The Angst Olympics, a collection of Seventeen fics that will make you question everything you thought you knew about love, loss, and the ache of unspoken words. From bitter breakups to forbidden love, this anthology explores the dark side of human connection, where every moment feels like a delicate fracture, and every touch holds the weight of everything left unsaid.

Prepare yourself for a whirlwind of angst, as the members of Seventeen navigate the labyrinth of their own emotions—no holds barred, no happy endings guaranteed. This is not for the faint of heart.

🥈sign up for the taglist here!

🥉read on for commentary from @diamonddaze01 @ylangelegy @gotta-winwin @gyubakeries @lovetaroandtaemin @chugging-antiseptic-dye

BEAUTIFUL FOOL

🏃‍♂️ Athlete: barista!jeon wonwoo x f!reader 🏆 Event: angst | vaguely based on the great gatsby ❌ Penalty: really really sad (i’m not sorry) ⏲️ Duration: 5.1k 🥇 Highlights: Foolishly, Wonwoo let himself hope. 🏋️‍♀️ Warm-up: Find the teaser here. Watch the game LIVE --- here.

TEETH

🏃 Athlete: wen junhui x f!reader 🏆 Event: co -actors au | toxic situationship | based on teeth, thin white lies, easier, and youngblood by 5SOS ❌ Penalty:  suggestive scenes, allusions to sex, toxic behavior, alcohol consumption ⏲️ Duration: est 4k  🥇 Highlights: At night, in your hotel room, far from the paparazzi and the camera crew,  Jun makes you believe he’s not the devil you know, but the lover you want.  🏋️‍♀️ Warm-up: Find the teaser here.  Watch the game LIVE --- here.

THESE LONELY NIGHTS

🏃 Athlete: kim mingyu x f!reader 🏆 Event: hanahaki au | based on bekhayali by arijit singh  ❌ Penalty: mentions of death ⏲️ Duration: est 4k  🥇 Highlights: And even if you never come back, even if Mingyu fades to nothing, he will carry you in his heart forever—because that’s what love is. It doesn’t leave, even when it hurts. 🏋️‍♀️ Warm-up: Find the teaser here.  Watch the game LIVE --- here.

GOLDEN PROMISES

🏃 Athlete: xu minghao x f!reader 🏆 Event: failed soulmates au | based on raanjhan by parampara tandon  ❌ Penalty: N/A  ⏲️ Duration: est 3k 🥇 Highlights: And so it began. Minghao, who believed in fate, and you, who didn’t.  🏋️‍♀️ Warm-up: Find the teaser here.  Watch the game LIVE --- here.

A PRAYER (I COULD NEVER SAY)

🏃 Athlete: lee jihoon x f!reader 🏆 Event: orpheus x eurydice au | based on khuda jaane by KK and Shilpa Rao  ❌ Penalty: major character death, heavy angst  ⏲️ Duration: est 3k  🥇 Highlights: Jihoon had never believed in God. Not in prayer, not in salvation, not in fate.  But then he met you, and everything changed. 🏋️‍♀️ Warm-up: Find the teaser here.  Watch the game LIVE --- here.

THESE BROKEN VOWS

🏃 Athlete: choi seungcheol x f!reader 🏆 Event: ceo!cheol   ❌ Penalty: allusions to religion and the church   ⏲️ Duration: 2k  🥇 Highlights: The vows weren’t meant for you, but every word felt like a knife sliding between your ribs. 🏋️‍♀️ Warm-up: Find the teaser here.  Watch the game LIVE --- here.

HEAVEN’S WAITING 

🏃 Athlete: jihoon x reader  🏆 Event: alternate universe: non-idol, inspired by hintayan ng langit (2018), hurt/comfort ❌ Penalty: mentions of death, discussions of life after death, themes of grief  ⏲️ Duration: est. 4K  🥇 Highlights: you’re two years late, you know? (or: you meet jihoon in The Middle, where he has overstayed his welcome.)  🏋️‍♀️ Warm-up: Find the teaser here.  Watch the game LIVE --- here.

BEFORE THE COFFEE GETS COLD 

🏃 Athlete: soonyoung x reader  🏆 Event: alternate universe: non-idol, inspired by the toshikazu kawaguchi series of the same name, hurt/comfort, magical realism ❌ Penalty: themes of grief  ⏲️ Duration: est. 3-5K  🥇 Highlights: you and soonyoung run a cafe that offers visitors the chance to travel back in time.  🏋️‍♀️ Warm-up: Find the teaser here.  Watch the game LIVE --- here.

TAKE MY WORD FOR IT 

🏃 Athlete: junhui x reader 🏆 Event: inspired by NIKI’s take care, childhood friends to almost lovers  ❌ Penalty: N/A ⏲️ Duration: est. 1K 🥇 Highlights: when bitterness bites, novelty is nectar.  🏋️‍♀️ Warm-up: Find the teaser here.  Watch the game LIVE --- here.

THESE DISTANCES

🏃 Athlete: seungkwan x reader  🏆 Event: alternate universe: non-idol, inspired by mohit chauhan & pritam’s dooriyan ❌ Penalty: N/A ⏲️ Duration: est. 2K  🥇 Highlights: you and seungkwan are parallel lines— equidistant, never meeting— until one day, you aren’t.  🏋️‍♀️ Warm-up: Find the teaser here.  Watch the game LIVE --- here.

THE FINAL DEFENSE OF THE DYING 

🏃 Athlete: hunger games mentor!jeonghan x tribute!reader  🏆 Event: alternate universe: the hunger games, dystopian fiction, romance  ❌ Penalty: depictions of death, sex work, violence ⏲️ Duration: est. 3K-5K 🥇 Highlights: jeonghan has escorted twelve tributes to their deaths. he will do everything in his power to make sure you don’t face the same fate. 🏋️‍♀️ Warm-up: Find the teaser here.  Watch the game LIVE --- here.

WATCHING HIM FADE AWAY

🏃 Athlete: jeonghan x f!reader 🏆 Event: post-apocalyptic, conscious AI jeonghan ❌ Penalty: abstract death, wounds, hurt/comfort, angst, metaphors to death ⏲️ Duration: est 3k 🥇 Highlights: It’s been 497 days since Jeonghan had awoken, only to realize he was completely alone. 🏋️‍♀️ Warm-up: Find the teaser here.  Watch the game LIVE --- here.

I KNOW THE END

🏃 Athlete: vernon x f!reader 🏆 Event: fluff, angst, bridge to terabithia au ❌ Penalty: heavy angst, character death, being childhood best friends ⏲️ Duration: est 3.5k 🥇 Highlights: Vernon crosses the bridge with you every year, holding his breath and making a silent wish to keep you next to him forever. 🏋️‍♀️ Warm-up: Find the teaser here. Watch the game LIVE --- here.

TO MISS THE MARK

🏃 Athlete: chan x goddess!reader 🏆 Event: heavy angst, greek mythology au ❌ Penalty: icarus’ story retelling, character death, heavy angst ⏲️ Duration: est 4k 🥇 Highlights: You watch Chan work his life away for his human ambitions, you watch him soar… fly, crash.  🏋️‍♀️ Warm-up: Find the teaser here.  Watch the game LIVE --- here.

WASTELAND, BABY!

🏃 Athlete: the8 x f!reader 🏆 Event: heavy angst, twd au, zombie apocalypse ❌ Penalty: character death, gore, blood ⏲️ Duration: est 2.5k 🥇 Highlights: Rumours say true love can heal infection.  🏋️‍♀️ Warm-up: Find the teaser here.  Watch the game LIVE --- here.

YOU BEFORE ME

🏃 Athlete: mingyu x f!reader 🏆 Event: hurt/comfort, athlete!mingyu, me before you au ❌ Penalty: life altering injury, very sad!, heavy sacrifice ⏲️ Duration: est 2k 🥇 Highlights: They say you can’t truly love someone until you give them your all - even if it kills you… 🏋️‍♀️ Warm-up: Find the teaser here.  Watch the game LIVE --- here.

PICTURE YOU

🏃 Athlete: joshua x f!reader 🏆 Event: hurt/comfort, abstract storytelling ❌ Penalty: plato’s soulmate theory, angst, normal people aesc, miscommunication ⏲️ Duration: est 3k 🥇 Highlights: Plato’s theory of soulmates states that humans are never complete until they find their other half. What happens when they’re your soulmate but you’re not theirs?  🏋️‍♀️ Warm-up: Find the teaser here.  Watch the game LIVE --- here.

GLIMPSE OF US

🏃 Athlete: mingyu x f!reader 🏆 Event: angst , exes to lovers , photographer!mingyu ❌ Penalty: drinking , implied sexual content , hurt/comfort ⏲️ Duration: 8.1k  🥇 Highlights: both you and mingyu know that your relationship ended a year ago. it was clear from the way you left and he never chased after you. then why do you still see glimpses of each other every time you’re trying to move on? 🏋️‍♀️ Warm-up: Find the teaser here.  Watch the game LIVE --- here.

CRAWLING BACK TO YOU

🏃 Athlete: vernon x f!reader 🏆 Event: angst , exes , rockstar!vernon ❌ Penalty: drinking , mentioned drug use , missed opportunities and bad timing , closure , hurt/comfort (?) ⏲️ Duration: 3.1k  🥇 Highlights: hansol uses up his last phone call to you on your anniversary. only you’ve broken up, it’s four years too late, and you’ve already moved on. do you think his song still deserves a chance? 🏋️‍♀️ Warm-up: Find the teaser here.  Watch the game LIVE --- here.

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🏃 Athlete: seungcheol x f!reader 🏆 Event: angst , right person wrong time , arranged marriage!au ❌ Penalty: broke!seungcheol , forced break-up , mc is betrothed to someone else ⏲️ Duration: TBA 🥇 Highlights: seungcheol had always thought love would be enough to hide the obvious facts. he’s dirt poor and doesn’t have enough to give you, the daughter of a wealthy businessman, a comfortable life. but sometimes, even love isn’t strong enough to withstand the hardships life brings your way. 🏋️‍♀️ Warm-up: Find the teaser here.  Watch the game LIVE --- here.

REWRITE THE STARS

🏃 Athlete: wonwoo x f!reader 🏆 Event: angst , forbidden love , royalty!au , princess!mc , peasant!wonwoo ❌ Penalty: major character death , slightly graphic , mentions of blood and injuries , physical torture ⏲️ Duration: TBA 🥇 Highlights: there’s a lot of things wonwoo isn’t supposed to want. yet, he wants you. never mind that you just happen to be the one thing that’s the farthest out of his reach.  🏋️‍♀️ Warm-up: Find the teaser here.  Watch the game LIVE --- here.

GLOOMY SKIES

🏃 Athlete: joshua x f!reader 🏆 Event: angst , friends to strangers , hanahaki disease!au ❌ Penalty: major character death , mutual pining , but at the wrong times , unrequited love , slight mentions of blood ⏲️ Duration: TBA  🥇 Highlights: you had sworn to yourself that you weren’t in love with joshua anymore. that it had just been a fleeting moment at the wrong time. then why were the bouquet of water lilies in your hand covered in rose petals? 🏋️‍♀️ Warm-up: Find the teaser here.  Watch the game LIVE --- here.

Soul Like Me

🏃 Athlete: Joshua x fem!reader 🏆 Event: Non idol AU, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff ❌ Penalty: Breakups, suggestive content, alcoholism, mentioned sex but no smut, no happy ending ⏲️ Duration: 5k-6k 🥇 Highlights: You and Joshua have been friends for most of your life, and you thought that you always would be. Turns out, your feelings for each other are much stronger than you thought, but love isn’t always enough to keep a relationship strong. 🏋️‍♀️ Warm-up: Find the teaser here.  Watch the game LIVE --- here.

I’m A Loser, Honey

🏃 Athlete: Vernon x fem!reader 🏆 Event: Angst, hurt/comfort, non-idol AU, some fluff I guess, heavily inspired by the relationship between Husk and Angel Dust from Hazbin Hotel ❌ Penalty: Very unhealthy relationships, cheating, mentioned sex but no smut, suggestive flirting, alcoholism/addiction, Reader is a sex worker, no happy ending ⏲️ Duration: 7k-8k 🥇 Highlights: All Vernon wanted was to get you away from Jeonghan. If he’d known how your affair would end, he would have never gotten involved with you. 🏋️‍♀️ Warm-up: Find the teaser here.  Watch the game LIVE --- here.

Never Enough

🏃 Athlete: Woozi x fem!reader 🏆 Event: Non-idol AU, angst, some fluff ❌ Penalty: Woozi’s personality is heavily inspired by “Are You Satisfied?” by Marina, arguing, toxic relationship, anxiety and depression, suggestive but no outright smut, no happy ending ⏲️ Duration: 5k-6k 🥇 Highlights: Jihoon was willing to do whatever it took to be the best, even if it cost him his marriage. 🏋️‍♀️ Warm-up: Find the teaser here.  Watch the game LIVE --- here.

Ocean View

🏃 Athlete: Siren!Jun x marine biologist!reader 🏆 Event: Fantasy AU, angst, fluff ❌ Penalty: Suggestive content but no smut, major character death, unethical scientists, no happy ending ⏲️ Duration: 8k-10k 🥇 Highlights: Junhui knew that you were his soulmate from the moment that he laid eyes on you. What he didn’t know, however, was that his love for you would cost him his life.  🏋️‍♀️ Warm-up: Find the teaser here.  Watch the game LIVE --- here.

Take This Heart

🏃 Athlete: DK x fem!reader 🏆 Event: Non idol AU, fluff, angst ❌ Penalty: Unhealthy relationship, depression, mentions of cheating, bittersweet ending ⏲️ Duration: 6k-7k 🥇 Highlights: All Seokmin wants is for his fiancee to act like she loves him again. 🏋️‍♀️ Warm-up: Find the teaser here.  Watch the game LIVE --- here.

My Fair Lady

🏃 Athlete: Minghao x Reader 🏆 Event: Non-idol au, heavy angst, inspired by the myth of pygmalion by ovid ❌ Penalty: Character death, mentions of drinking, slight profanities (maybe) ⏲️ Duration: under 5k 🥇 Highlights: Minghao was proud of two things: his rationality and his artistry. But why did you have to burn both to the ground? 🏋️‍♀️ Warm-up: Find the teaser here.  Watch the game LIVE --- here.

Worth It

🏃 Athlete: Jun x Reader 🏆 Event: Non-idol au, slight regency elements, inspired by Jun’s cover of ‘Worth It’ ❌ Penalty: hurt/comfort, angst, stableboy! jun ⏲️ Duration: under 2k 🥇 Highlights: “But I've left no room in my heart to turn back So if we're wrong, let's be wrong together.” 🏋️‍♀️ Warm-up: Find the teaser here.  Watch the game LIVE --- here.

No Stone Left Unturned

🏃 Athlete: Soonyoung x Reader 🏆 Event: Non-idol au, futuristic setting, mentions of apocalypse  ❌ Penalty: Major character death, blood ⏲️ Duration: 1-3 k 🥇 Highlights: Soonyoung just has to find this one gemstone and he is all set. But in that process will he lose the gem he already has? 🏋️‍♀️ Warm-up: Find the teaser here.  Watch the game LIVE --- here.

Happy Ever After

🏃 Athlete: Seokmin x Reader 🏆 Event: Non-idol au, inspired by The Phantom of the Opera ❌ Penalty: Major character death, mentions of self-harm, alchoholism ⏲️ Duration: under 5k 🥇 Highlights: One last play for Seokmin but he can still feel the phantoms of your love. Or can he? 🏋️‍♀️ Warm-up: Find the teaser here.  Watch the game LIVE --- here.

[gotta-winwin]

wasteland, baby! | x.mh

⭐starring: xu minghao  💌 genre: angst | wc: 1.4k 💬preview: they say love can cure infection.

cw/tw: character death, heavy angst, true love and soulmate trope, descriptions of suffering and wounds, a countdown of time, apocalyptic world

🪽fic rating: pg 

☁️ masterlist & a/n: i only have one thing to say: @studioeisa (kae), this one’s for you. thank you so much to @lovetaroandtaemin (ally) and @chanranghaeys (haneul) for beta reading <3

now playing: wasteland, baby! by hozier

this is an addition to the angst olympics: click here to read the masterlist!

They say love can cure infection.

Scratch that—true love can cure infection. 

The silent countdown had started in Minghao’s head five minutes after the first bite. It burned and smelled of rotten flesh, as he peeled back his tattered shirt to reveal the charred teeth marks embedded in the side of his chest. 

Minghao keeled over and threw up at the sight. What was the longest survival rate for infection again? Minghao couldn’t think straight. 

Right. 10 measly days. 

As he stumbled out of the ruins and onto the grassy field surrounding him, Minghao tried to gather his bearings. Turning left, towards the oncoming horizon, would take him back to base—towards the medics and his best chance of survival. 

But Minghao was never an avid believer of science. He knew the millions of dollars the government had put into finding the cure was a hoax. 

10 days to live. The countdown in his mind ticked on. 

Minghao stubbornly turned right and began his trek to you. 

“You love me, right?” Minghao’s battered and bruised face enters your line of sight. His lips are cracked and tinted with blood, his left eye sporting colors of purple and blue—yet he had never looked more handsome. 

“I do.” It was a fact, as plain as could be. 

“Then we have nothing to worry about.” 

Minghao was resilient and strong-willed, all great characteristics for surviving the ongoing spread of disease, a strange infection that was eradicating humanity, nation by nation. He had ranked top of his class in the military, and his commanding officer had given him a 98% chance of survival. 

But Minghao was also filled with misguided hope and optimism. And that cut his chance of survival down to 0.03%. 

After all, the infection was brutal, cruel, and left no space for such futile things. 

“Of course.” You reply, threading your grimy fingers through his own blackened ones. “We’ve got true love on our side.” 

Your commanding officer had given you a 78% chance of survival. You were a realist, weak-willed but full of wit and life. Then he had given one glance at the way you looked at Minghao and changed your chance to 0.01%.

The infection might have no space for hope and optimism, but it actively choked out love. 

9 days. Minghao had always been a patient person, yet with his journey still leading nowhere close to you, he began to panic. 

He used to laugh at the prospect of dying, saying he’d welcome death with open arms and laugh in his face. But everyone says they’ve made peace with death until it’s actually time to go. Minghao stares at death’s face before falling asleep, and the laughter chokes down his throat. 

He passes fields of flowers and drying grass on his trek towards you, the sun beating down torturously on his back. He stops only to sleep. 

He sees your face in his dreams. 

8 days. Fighting past a pack of the undead barely drained his energy. He plows on, through the snaking river and across the rickety wooden bridge. 

He hallucinates your figure walking ahead of him and nearly falls in the water trying to reach you. 

“Y/N!” He calls, and the birds on the trees fly off from the sound. It echoes, and Minghao is suddenly too aware of how he is utterly alone for miles. 

He watches as you run towards the edge of the bridge, your summer dress flowing in the wind. You lean over, and his heart catches in his lungs. 

He’s about to warn you to be careful, but you turn and smile, and Minghao’s brain goes quiet. No loud thoughts. No annoying drone. No hum. 

“Come look.” You beckon to him with your hand. The ring on your finger catches the light and glitters. It becomes the only thing he can focus on. You bring him next to you, and he watches the ducks follow their mother home on the rippling water. 

He blinks and remembers the waters have long since been dry. 

7 days or so. Minghao can feel that he’s close to home, to you. He wonders for a moment if you’re missing him, and a weak laugh escapes from him. What a silly thought. Of course you miss him too. 

The landscape around him has transitioned from the drying fields to a cracked desert. He’s parched but hardly feels it. One foot in front of the other. Again, again. 

Minghao counts down the days left in his life and when he can see you. 

6 days, or is it 5? He can hardly remember anymore. He whispers your name in his sleep, his lips cracked and his throat as dry as the world around him. 

He counts the amount of breaths he takes and wishes he could store them in a bottle for later. He doesn’t know how much of those he has left. 

He feels your fingers run through his hair like phantom pains. 

“We’ll see each other again.” He had promised you before leaving. “I’ll return to you.”

You nodded, running your hands through his growing hair. “I’ll be waiting.” 

One of the undead growls from behind him and interrupts your parting. Minghao barely flinches when you aim your pistol over his shoulder, and a gunshot rings out. 

You frown up at him. “That could’ve killed you.” 

He smiles. “But you had my back. You always do.” 

“I won’t be with you out there.” You shake your head at his easy going nature.

He presses a firm kiss to each of your hands. “Don’t worry about me. I beat you in training, didn’t I?” 

You nod. He wraps his arms around your waist and holds you close. 

Neither one of you mentions how 97.8% of people who leave the encampment don’t ever return. 

Minghao hates statistics. They’re never in his fucking favour. 

4 days. Minghao continues to walk, ignoring the fact that he’s utterly lost. Somewhere along his journey he had lost nearly half of his vision, and he could no longer see more than a few steps ahead of him. 

He could feel it so very clearly that he was dying. 

“It’s just wasteland, baby.” Minghao murmured into your hair as the two of you laid down on your bunk. “Just wasteland.” 

“I miss all the pretty things we used to have.” 

He hums. “You’re the prettiest thing in this wasteland, baby.” 

You laugh, smacking his arm gently. “That’s cheesy.” 

He laughs too. “No, but I’m being serious. The world might be ending, but at least it’s ending with me next to you.” 

“Just wasteland.” You echo his words from before. His finger draws circles on your arm. “True love can cure infection, anyways.” 

That was his lifeline. He had to believe reaching you could save him. 

Minghao stopped to gather his bearings. He turned around. It was a wasteland all around. 

3 days. 

“Minghao!” He hears his name coming from you and spins around to greet you. He spins too fast and stumbles, falling to his knees. 

“Y/N?” It comes out as a hoarse whisper, barely uttered. “Y/N?” 

He wants to believe you’ve come out to find him– that you’ve met him halfway, because he knew he was nowhere near home. 

Minghao uses the last of his energy to raise his head up towards the sky. The clouds are dark and unmoving. He doesn’t see you.

He doesn’t move. 

2 days. 

You’re waiting by the castle tower. You haven’t moved from your spot on the lookout for the last 5 days, eagerly looking out towards the stretch of barren land for your lover. 

“He’s not coming back.” Someone gently places a hand on your shoulder. 

You raise your gun as a warning. “Shut up.” 

They leave. 

You keep waiting. 

1 day left. 

Minghao gets up from his spot on the desert floor. He keeps walking. He walks and walks until he sees the outline of a decrepit castle. 

You see him from afar before his face is even visible. It’s a speck of a person, stumbling towards the castle, their steps uncoordinated and slow. 

You squint, and you can’t tell if it’s really him.

You run out to meet him. Just in case. You know from the way he’s moving that something’s wrong. You know you’re the only one who can save him. If it really is him.

You skid to a stop a few meters away. 

An undead stares back at you and continues to walk closer. He has the growing locks of hair and eyes of your lover. 

And for the first time, you don’t raise your gun. 

[studioeisa]

take my word for it 🧭 junhui x reader.

when bitterness bites, novelty is nectar.

★ almost-lovers junhui x reader. ★ part of the angst olympics collaboration & my personal buzz (seventeen's version) project. ★ word count: 2.9k ★ genre/warnings: angst, childhood friends, idiots in love, right person/wrong time. obscene use of em-dashes (sorry). based on NIKI's take care. ★ footnotes: this is an overdue update to buzz (svt's version), and my official entry to me & the bestiesss' angst collaboration 🫶 missing junhui hours are always open, i fear.

The first time you see Jun again, it’s been three years. 

You don’t realize how much time has passed until he’s standing in front of you, taller than you remember, sharper in the angles of his face, but with the same lopsided grin that once got him out of trouble with your teachers.

“You’re late,” you tell him, though your annoyance is betrayed by the smile threatening to fill your face. 

Jun snorts, adjusting his cap lower over his eyes, though it does little to hide the way they crinkle at the corners. “Nah,” he says. “I think I’m just on time.” 

He isn’t, you want to insist. He’s thirty minutes late. (Maybe years late, if you really think about it.) But there are only so many hours that you and Jun have with each other, and you don’t want to squander it with a petty argument. 

You’re standing outside a familiar café tucked into a quieter part of Nanshan, the same place you used to visit after school when Jun had big dreams and no schedule to keep him away. He used to drape himself over the chairs, drinking lemon tea and sighing dramatically about one thing or the other. 

Now, he’s here on a two-month film shoot. Slipping into your hometown like a whisper, never staying long enough to settle.

You push open the door, the bell chiming softly as you step inside. The place hasn’t changed much— same dark wooden tables, same warm scent of coffee and osmanthus pastries. It feels almost untouched by time. A sharp contrast to Jun, who moves with the ease of someone who belongs everywhere and nowhere at once.

The two of you take a seat in the corner. The air between you should feel heavy with all the things unsaid, but it doesn’t. Jun always knew how to make things easy.

“So,” he starts, stirring his iced coffee with a straw, “care to tell me just how much you missed me?” 

You scoff. What an opener. He keeps you waiting for half an hour, and the first thing he does is try and wheedle a confession out of you. 

“Not a lot,” you shoot back. I catch you on television plenty of times, you consider saying. You’re on the billboards I see on my morning commute. You’re right there, whenever I open SNS. How could I miss you? It’s like you never left. 

“Ouch.” Jun clutches his chest, feigning hurt. “I come all this way, and this is the welcome I get?” 

You shake your head, fighting down a smile. Like he’s never left, indeed. 

The conversation flows as it always has—effortless, like slipping into an old song. You talk about your job, your family, how your parents still ask about him like he’s their long-lost son. He tells you about the movie, about co-stars you only vaguely recognize, about how his director keeps yelling at him to stop using his “idol face” when he acts.

Time bends and blurs. It’s too easy to pretend nothing has changed, that he isn’t someone the world watches with hungry eyes, that you’re both still sixteen and untouchable.

Then, somewhere between the laughter and the nostalgia, the conversation stills.

Jun looks at you, really looks at you, and something in his expression shifts.

Don’t, you mentally beg him as you avoid his gaze. Don’t say what’s both on our minds. Don’t make it real. Don’t make me want— 

“Have you—” He hesitates, taps his fingers against the table. “Have you ever thought about leaving Shenzen?” 

You blink. “What?” 

You’re suddenly acutely aware of the shared language you speak and how it’s marred by minute differences. You, with your unburdened Mandarin; Jun, whose accent carries hints of all the places he’s been. All the people he has to be. 

He tilts his head and studies you like he’s memorizing something. “You always talked about going somewhere else. Trying something new.” 

The words feel like a physical blow to the chest. 

There’s no delicate way to put it. That ‘you’ who had dreamed of bigger things and faraway places was a distant memory. That was a version of you who hasn’t existed in a long, long time. 

That was a version of you that once existed alongside a starry-eyed Jun, but the stars in your friend’s eyes have long since burned out— snuffed by the weight of his responsibilities. 

You plaster on a smile. “Not everybody gets to chase their dreams, Junnie,” you say, trying to keep your tone light. 

His lips press together in a thin, disappointed line. “I know.” He glances away, around the café that once witnessed all your scheming, before he fixes that searching look back on you. “But you should have.” 

The words sit between you. Neither heavy nor light, just true.

A part of you wants to ask if he ever thought about staying. If he ever looked back. If he ever wondered what would have happened if he had been a little less brilliant, a little less meant for something bigger.

But you don’t.

Instead, you sip at your drink and ask Jun about Jackie Chan. About the twelve boys he calls brothers. About everything that has to do with nothing, just so neither of you have to deal with the suffocating elephant in the room. 

The night ends quietly as it began. Outside, the Shenzhen air is thick with the lingering warmth of spring, the streets humming with soft life. You and Jun walk together for a while, your arms brushing but never quite linking.

There’s a metaphor here somewhere, you think amusedly, and you fight the urge to tease Jun about it. 

For ten points, you almost ask him, can you tell me why we won’t just hold hands, Wen Junhui? 

At the corner where the roads split— his back to his hotel, yours towards home— the two of you hesitate. Jun grins, tilting his head. “Are you gonna say it, or should I?”

You shake your head, exhaling. “Take care, superstar.”

His smile softens. You used to call him that all the time, used to tout his impending stardom like it was as certain as the blueness of the sky. “Yeah,” he says. “See you around, alright?” 

You nod, but you don’t look back.

And Jun— Jun watches you disappear down the street before turning away, hands in his pockets. He whistles a tune neither of you ever got the chance to finish.

It’s been two years since you last saw Jun.

This time, you don’t meet at a café. There are no warm pastries or quiet corners, no scent of lemon tea curling through the air. Instead, there’s the sharp scent of rain-soaked pavement and the dull glow of a street lamp flickering above you.

You weren’t supposed to see him today.

You had known he was back— of course you did. His face was impossible to miss, plastered across the city on every advertisement, playing in every store you walked past. He was here for another movie, another fleeting return, and you had told yourself you wouldn’t reach out this time. Why say ‘hello’ if you would only be risking another ‘goodbye’? 

You spot him first, half-hidden beneath the awning of a convenience store, scrolling idly through his phone. He hasn’t noticed you yet. His cap is pulled low, his shoulders hunched against the drizzle, but it’s him. You’d know him anywhere.

You could walk away.

You should walk away.

But instead, you step forward, letting your umbrella tilt slightly so the rain dampens your sleeve. “Didn’t peg you for the type to loiter outside a convenience store like a delinquent,” you joke.

Jun looks up, startled, and then his face splits into a slow, disbelieving grin. “And I didn’t peg you for the type to stalk me.”

There it is. The first words exchanged in what feels like a lifetime. It’s like a Band-Aid to a bullet wound— a cut put there by Jun’s texts that have gone unanswered. Let’s meet up, he had asked you days ago, and you let the message collect dust in your inbox. 

A part of you dreads the thought of him bringing it up. Here, now. But Jun also knows better. Knows why the two of you can’t keep indulging each other. 

But fate seems to have other plans.

“You’re the one standing outside my usual store,” you shoot back with a half-hearted roll of your eyes. 

He laughs, soft and familiar, and suddenly the past two years don’t feel so far away.

“Guess that means I owe you something,” he says, nudging open the door with his shoulder. “Come in. I’ll buy you a drink.”

You hesitate. You shouldn’t. You should say something polite and leave, pretend you never saw him, pretend this doesn’t mean something. But then Jun lifts an eyebrow, tilting his head in that way he always does when he knows he’s winning, and you find yourself following him inside. 

You always did let him win, didn’t you? 

The store is nearly empty. The hum of the refrigerator and the occasional beeping of the cashier scanning items are the only sounds filling the silence. You make a beeline for the drink aisle, Jun trailing behind you.

“You still drink lemon tea?” he asks, side-stepping you. 

You nod. He plucks a can from the shelf without hesitation before grabbing a coffee for himself. 

You remembered, you think, and the thought must be clear as day on your face because Jun lets out a snort of laughter when he looks at you. “What kind of monster forgets their best friend’s favorite drink?” he quips.

There it is again. That careful, unspoken line. Best friend. Like a safety net stretched between you, always just enough to keep the two of you from falling. 

You don’t respond, just follow him to the counter where he pays, ignoring the way the cashier does a double take when she recognizes him.

Outside, the rain has slowed to a drizzle.

“You have somewhere to be?” Jun asks, handing you the can. 

In the corner of your eye, you can see the cashier fiddling with her phone. Probably trying to look up Jun. 

You shake your head.

“Walk with me for a bit,” he says, and it’s a plea as much as it’s a question. 

So you walk. Past neon-lit storefronts, past the murmuring voices of late-night diners, past streets that still hold echoes of your childhood. One of the few things that you still share.

Jun talks about the film, about how he barely has time to sleep, about how his co-star is absurdly talented and makes him feel like a rookie again. You listen, nodding in the right places, letting his voice fill the spaces between you.

He gives. You take. It’s always been this way. 

You’re in more familiar neighborhoods when Jun asks you, blunt as ever, “Have you been happy?” 

You don’t know how to answer.

You think about your job, steady but unremarkable. You think about your apartment, neat and quiet. You think about the life you’ve built, the one you never dreamed of but somehow ended up with anyway.

You think about how the only time you ever feel sixteen again is when Jun is standing beside you.

“I’m fine,” you say at last. “I have everything I need.”

Almost everything, you add in your mind as your free hand twitches at your side. The empty spaces between your fingers feel glaringly obvious, feel like some place where Jun could rest if he deigned to. 

Jun studies you for a long moment. Then he hums, low and thoughtful, and turns his gaze back to the road. The walk continues, but something has shifted. The silence is heavier, the air thicker. The distance between you is measured in more than just footsteps now.

You stop at the same corner as last time. His hotel. Your apartment. 

Jun shoves his hands into his pockets and rocks on his heels. “I leave in two weeks,” he says. 

“I figured,” you respond. Not unkindly. 

“Maybe we can—” he starts, and that mental litany starts up in your head once again. 

Don’t do this to me. Don’t do this to yourself. 

He hears it, he must, because he trails off and shakes his head like he’s ridding himself of wishful thinking. “Nevermind.” 

It’s the smartest thing he’s done tonight. You lift your can of lemon tea in a mock toast. 

Here’s to us, you want to say, the two biggest idiots in the goddamn world. 

Instead, you leave him with the usual. “Take care, Junnie.” 

His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Always,” he shoots back. “Take it easy, you.”

Again: You don’t look back. 

And Jun— Jun watches until you’re gone before turning away, taking slow steps back into a city that no longer feels like home.

This time, it’s been four years. 

Four years of Jun slipping in and out of Shenzhen like a ghost, four years of you pretending not to notice. You’ve kept track, of course. Not through texts— those stopped after the last time— but through the city itself. His presence lingers in the posters at subway stations, in the muted sound of his voice filtering through a store’s speakers, in the occasional mention of his name in casual conversation.

You told yourself you wouldn’t see him again. That after the last time, after the rain-soaked streets and the unfinished words, there was no point in waiting for another return.

Your bags are packed, your ticket is in hand, and Shenzhen— the city that once held all your dreams and disappointments— is about to be nothing more than a place you used to belong to.

And yet, somehow, in this vast, transient space of the airport terminal, you find him.

Or maybe he finds you.

Jun stands near his gate, his hoodie pulled over his head. But you would recognize him anywhere. Even if it had been another four years. Even if it had been a lifetime.

He spots you. For a second, he looks almost startled— like he wasn’t expecting this, like he had finally convinced himself you weren’t going to be a part of this place he keeps leaving behind.

Then, slowly, that familiar smile tugs at his lips.

It must take a mammoth effort for him to weave through the fans dying to catch a glimpse of him, through the security detail who are paid thousands to keep him safe. He manages. He forces himself to. 

When he reaches you, his voice is softer than you remember. “You’re kidding.” 

You huff, shaking your head. “I wish,” you say. 

He glances at your suitcase, at the boarding pass clutched in your hand. His smile falters. “Where are you heading?” he asks, like the thought of a Shenzen without you is a travesty in its own right. 

You give him a tight-lipped smile. I can’t answer that, your grin says, and he seems to understand. It’s the only safeguard that will keep him from jet-setting to wherever you are, from walking through street after street in hopes of running into you. 

Fate can only do so much for you and Jun. It’s given you chances, given you hope, and yet the two of you continue to scorn it. 

“Why now?” he asks of your departure. His voice is careful but not unreadable. He wants to know if you’re running toward something or just running away.

It’s a little bit of both, admittedly. 

You shrug. “Figured it was about time,” you say instead. 

Time. You and Jun once had it in spades. He exhales, tilting his head like he’s processing the weight of the moment. With a humorless chuckle, he says, “Guess we really are bad at timing, huh?”

The announcement for his flight crackles overhead. A final boarding call.

Jun lingers, watching you, something flickering behind his gaze. He hesitates, like he wants to say something— something real, something that won’t disappear the moment he steps on that plane.

But you already know what he’ll say.

And you already know how this ends.

So before he can ask, before he can make this any harder than it already is, you step forward and do what you’ve never done before.

You reach for his hand.

For a second, Jun freezes. Then his fingers curl around yours, warm and familiar, like they were always supposed to fit this way.

You hold on. Just for a moment. Just long enough to let yourself wonder what it would have been like if things had been different. If you, if he had been different. 

Fate has given up. This is your fate, now— the meeting, the leaving. The loss.

You pull away first. Jun blinks, startled, and you can see the question forming on his lips. But you don’t give him the chance to ask.

“Take care, Junhui.” 

Not superstar. Not Junnie. He’s neither of those things anymore. 

He’s not yours anymore. (Was he ever?) 

His grip tightens around the handle of his suitcase.

With a small, resigned smile, he nods. “You, too,” he says quietly. “Take care.” 

And, this time— you both walk away.

🎧 BUZZ (SEVENTEEN'S VERSION) TAGLIST — @cherrylita @cookiearmy @cunfnxxx-blog

🏆 THE ANGST OLYMPICS TAGLIST — @lovetaroandtaemin @bokk-minnie @gyuhao365 @supi-wupi @rizzus @callmehoweveruwatblog @pleasetellmenow @giverosespls @seikwans @cookiearmy @mingumis @yuyuloverrr @chanranghaeys @starstrawb @catiekayy @choco-scoups @wonuilu @flickhurstyles @yayayayana @lizza2001 @bibblemiluvr @alyssa19123456 @skzbangchanniee @whoa-jo @brownbunnyb @sennasiempre @idubiluranghae @bvrin

[chugging-antiseptic-dye]

Worth It 👑

“But I've left no room in my heart to turn back. So if we're wrong, let's be wrong together.”

pairing: stable boy! jun x young lady! reader

word count: 1.2k

genre: non-idol au, slight regency elements, inspired by jun’s cover of ‘worth it’, no happy ending, angstx3

notes: part of my collaboration for angst olympics. check out the full masterlist to read works from all the amazing authors! special thanks to my love, @studioeisa for beta-ing at the speed of light and for making the banner <3 bold lines are direct translation of jun's worth it.

You taught him all about silk. 

The silk which you can’t live without, which is all you wear; the silken weave of your hair, the silky texture of your favourite pudding; and the colour of your eyes. A silk of maize.  Underneath the silken rays of the early morning sun, your laugh makes the flowers dance in joy,

Days of the weeks blended into months which turned into years that run amok and both of you are now only shadows of the kids you once were. However, Jun was still the responsible one. He had to be. His whole life was spent taking care of an overworked, chronically sick mother and a carefree tactless friend. You, on the other hand, bloomed into the graceful lady of Fenheart City. Who would even look at you and think that once you roughhoused with the street children in Southern slums where Jun still lives in.

Nowadays, the only stolen moments you two can catch are during your daily morning ride. Your parents commend you for still taking the stableboy for your safety but only the two of you know you can outrace Jun anyday. He still has to hold the reins of your horses with his head bowed down so that the guards don’t catch a worthless scum talking to the lady. Especially when there are new envoys and servants all around. Jun can’t afford a sliver of rumours with his mom’s medicine getting more expensive by day. Only the efforts of the young lord of Starfall, the Ashwind church, and the Western Garrison, kept the borders relatively peaceful for medicine traders to cross over.

As part of his new habit over the last six months, Jun said a quick prayer for the good health of Starfall’s lord when you fly into his arms. His hands instinctively wrap around your waist before he finds the sanity of mind to push you away.

“Are you insane? We are in public.” He hissed.

“Fuck being in public. Do you know what those envoys are for?” You sounded hysterical. Scratch that. You were hysterical. A dull pain reverberated in his heart when Jun realized that you were distressed and there was nothing he could do to help you. Helplessness, thy name is Wen Junhui.

“Why are they here?” He asked softly, eerily similar to how he soothed young colts.

You stare into him with empty eyes, swaying back and forth on your feet. A voice so distant to you that you don’t even realize that it’s yours, say, “Father finalized my marriage to the new Lord of Starfall. He promised the stretch of forest borderning their fortier town in return for extra protection for Fenheart. Our marriage will seal the deal.”

You start to giggle and don’t seem to stop. Jun found his teeth clenched together. Just as he finished processing what you said, you snatched his hands and pressed them to your chest.

“I got it,” Eyes blazing, you announce. “Let’s run away together.”

Jun tried to tug his hands free. “Let go of my hand.”

“No. Don't ask that of me. Jun, you can’t ask that of me.” Both of you know why he can’t. What was once a puppy love turned into a devoted one a few summers back. There was no one who knew your soul more than Jun. Both of you never thought about another person. Still, Jun was used to never getting the things he wanted: a bed not made out of hay, a horse of his own, you.

“You know this is wrong, right? We both have responsibilities we can't run from. I have my mother to look after too.” There. He tried his best to be rational.

“You say these things but you are still here. Tell me you don't want this. Tell me you don't want me. I know that this is wrong. I know we are disappointing so many people. But I've left no room in my heart to turn back. So, if we're wrong, let's be wrong together.”

“You won't regret me?” His best effort isn’t enough. Rationality had no place for souls intertwined.

“I like to think that our love and our mistakes are all worth it. Even if the result is chaos, it will count for something. So, steal me away, lover boy.”

For the first time in his life, Jun let himself hope.

.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜

The doors of the City Lord’s study slammed closed, and so did the kindle of hope he nursed for the last few days. Everyone knew that when you went into the study, you came out a changed man. And Jun knew before being thrown in there that he won’t be the same boy anymore.

And he wasn’t. Not when he was whipped for every word you wrote in your goodbye letter to your parents. Not when his mother had to slam her forehead hard enough against the stone floor that it stained crimson to beg for your life. Not when he agreed to let you watch him give you up for money that will set him up for life. He left a shell of the boy he once was. The boy that would have never given you up. The boy that wouldn’t have chosen practicality over devotion. 

Even as they are dragging you away, creating furrows in the soft earth caused by your stubborn feet, you can't help but scream to him. Jun! Jun, please. Please. please. Don't let them take me away. You can't. YOU CAN'T.

Jun says nothing. His hands are already stained. Whether the pouch of gold is heavier than his conscience is between him and the silent forest.

He shouldn't feel guilty. He doesn't owe you anything. He can never owe you anything because there was never a possibility of crossing the chasm, of building a life with you. 

.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜

Jun moves. Well, he has the money now. Why shouldn’t he? 

He moves three days away from the border of Starfall and marries a nice, homely local girl whose father owns the most popular taravan. She is enamoured by the handsome new trader and quick on her feet. And that’s enough for Jun. He needs someone who can take care of his mother and share his hardships. (You hated doing chores. You promised that you would start doing them the moment he married you.)

It’s been 10 years and Jun is a household name for best quality silk at the cheapest price. He has five branches in different cities, and yet, at the end of the month, he personally goes to a non-descript town just inside the border to deliver their maudlin amount of silk for the cloth shops. 

When his wife, now handsomely aged and with even more handsome manners, asks him why he doesn't send a servant to deliver those goods (doesn’t it tire you, my love?), he tells her it’s about respecting how much they contributed to his business at the start. I settled here with nothing, madame. 

He doesn’t tell her about the beer he drinks at the only taravan in that town. He doesn’t tell her how he slips a few coins to the innkeeper to tell him about the current situation of Starfall and its lordship. 

He won’t tell her he waits with bated breath about one sliver of news about its Lady. He won’t tell her he still looks for signs that you are content. He can’t tell her he never stopped loving you.

He has everything now. His mother is healthy and loves to babysit her grandchildren. 

He still doesn’t know if it’s worth it.

angst olympics taglist: @lovetaroandtaemin @bokk-minnie @gyuhao365 @supi-wupi @rizzus @callmehoweveruwatblog @pleasetellmenow @giverosespls @seikwans @cookiearmy @mingumis @yuyuloverrr @chanranghaeys @starstrawb @catiekayy @choco-scoups @wonuilu @flickhurstyles @yayayayana @lizza2001 @bibblemiluvr @alyssa19123456 @skzbangchanniee @whoa-jo @brownbunnyb @sennasiempre @idubiluranghae @bvrin @supi-wupi @blaycke @gam3bo17 @Steamyjaehyun @g1ven-taken @Raginghellfire @mxnhoeuwu @svtmaru @gyubakeries

[lovetaroandtaemin]

Soul Like Me

Joshua Hong x Reader

Word Count: 6,037

Genre: Angst, some fluff, non idol AU

Rating: Some adult themes, MINORS DNI!

Summary: You and Joshua have been friends for most of your life, and you thought that you always would be. Turns out, your feelings for each other are stronger than you thought, but love isn't always enough to keep a relationship strong.

Content Warnings: Breakups, suggestive content (making out but nothing more), brief mentions of body image struggles, some allusions to previous traumatic experiences but nothing detailed, alcohol as a coping mechanism, other unhealthy coping mechanisms, mentioned sex but no smut, angst with no happy ending.

A/N: This is my second submission for the Angst Olympics collab! As always, if you enjoyed this fic, make sure to check out the other fics in the collab masterlist, linked here! There are so many incredible writers participating, so make sure to show them some love!

Taglist: @xomakara, @notyourjaem, @heechwe, @shadowkoo, @okiedokrie-main, @chugging-antiseptic-dye

Fic is under the cut.

Joshua Hong was one of your favorite people in your life for most of what you remembered of it. The two of you met at school when you were kids, and as the years went by, you only grew closer. You laughed together, cried together, and lived your lives together. All of your fondest childhood stories included him. No one made you laugh like he could, and he was the first person that you turned to when you needed someone to talk to, whether you were depressed because of a breakup or stressed out because you got into yet another argument with your mom. Joshua was your best friend, your rock. Every moment with him made you feel like you weren’t alone anymore, like you were finally understood. You loved him, even when you didn’t quite know what that meant yet.

You finally realized that you were in love with Joshua when the two of you were in college. After a particularly difficult breakup, he was the one that helped you pick up the pieces of your heart that were shattered by yet another careless man that you’d allowed into your life in the hopes of finding the love of a lifetime.

When the breakup happened, you’d been dating Chan for almost a year, and the entire time, you were certain that he was as in love with you as you were with him. However, you tended to be proven wrong in only the most heartbreaking ways every time you were even remotely sure of something. This time, your perception of Chan was shattered when the two of you got into a particularly heated argument and he let it slip that he’d only started dating you because of a bet with his best friend.

Chan’s admission hurt you deeply, to say the least. So, you threw him out of your apartment, screaming at him that you never wanted to see him again while holding back tears. Then, you picked up your phone and called Joshua, asking him to spend the night at your apartment with you. Your best friend was at your door in minutes, knocking loudly and yelling, “It’s Josh! Let me in!”

You hurried to open the door and responded, “It’s ten o’clock at night! Are you trying to get noise complaints?” Though, the smile on your face when you saw him was proof that you weren’t actually upset with him.

“Fuck noise complaints,” he said with a laugh while struggling to hold the ridiculous number of bags in his arms. “All I care about is cheering my best friend up.”

“Thanks for coming, Josh. Seriously, I don’t know what I would do if I didn’t have you.”

“It’s no problem. You know I’ll always pick up when you call. All I ask in return is that you help me carry these bags. They’re heavy, and I don’t want to drop anything.”

You took the bags that he handed you and stepped aside so that he could enter your apartment, asking, “Holy shit, did you bring your entire house over?”

“No. I brought a lot of snacks, though. I also brought a few DVDs and a deck of playing cards, since I figured you’d probably want something to do to take your mind off of whatever happened. Now, what happened?”

“It was all a bet,” you said, fighting back tears as you started to remember your earlier argument with Chan.

“What do you mean?”

“We got into a fight about something stupid, and he told me that he only asked me out because of a bet. He never loved me, at least not as much as I loved him.”

The moment the words left your mouth, you started to sob, and Joshua pulled you into a tight hug. As you cried into his shoulder, he rubbed your back and whispered soft reassurances, and you relaxed just a little bit in his hold. As your breathing evened out, you couldn’t help but think that you wanted to be held by Joshua more often. Your best friend made you feel safe and cared for in a way that Chan never could have, even if your now ex had given enough of a shit about you to try.

Once you were feeling better, you spent the rest of the night watching the movies that Joshua brought with him. While you watched them, the two of you talked about everything except for the pain that had caused you to invite him over in the first place.

When the conversation started, you were just making snarky comments about the movie you were watching. As time went on, though, the conversation got a bit more serious, and you turned to Joshua and asked, “Why are you so nice to me?”

“Why wouldn’t I be, silly? I’ve known you since we were kids.”

“That doesn’t mean that you have to like me, though.”

“Oh, come on,” Joshua responded with a slightly frustrated sigh. “Don’t start with that, (Y/N). You’re amazing.”

You smiled slightly as you said, “Thanks, Josh,” knowing that you’d spend hours arguing if you didn’t relent right then.

As you thought about the way Joshua so casually complimented you, like it was second nature for him to care for you, an all-too-familiar rush of butterflies filled your stomach. Well, the giddy nervousness itself was familiar at least. Experiencing it as a reaction to your best friend hugging you while telling you how amazing he thought you were, however, was not. Sure, you’d always thought that Joshua was good-looking, anyone that had eyes did, but you’d never really thought of him in any way that wasn’t strictly platonic before.

Joshua was your best friend, for fuck’s sake. You couldn’t have feelings for him. What if he didn’t feel the same way? What if he got uncomfortable around you and your friendship ended? The thought alone terrified you, so you decided that you would keep your mouth shut and hope that the feelings went away.

In an attempt to focus on anything but the growing tension in the room, you turned to Joshua and asked, “Did you bring enough stuff with you to stay the night?”

“I always do.”

You softened when he spoke, responding, “I know I already said it, but thank you. Seriously. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’d probably still be upset,” he said with a laugh. “Seriously, though, I’ll always be here when you need somebody. What kind of best friend would I be if I wasn’t?”

Right, he was your friend. Nothing more. No matter how badly you now found yourself wanting more.

After brushing your teeth and changing into pajamas, you went to your room to go to sleep, while Joshua settled in your guest room. You tried your best to fall asleep, you really did, but instead, you just stared at your ceiling and thought about Joshua. It was funny, really. The harder you tried not to think about him, the more he consumed your thoughts. It was like the universe was determined to make you want him, regardless of whether he even wanted you in the same way.

Eventually, your exhaustion won over your anxious mind, and you did fall asleep. That didn’t mean that you escaped from your newfound feelings, though. Even as you slept, you were bombarded with thoughts about your best friend in a number of scenarios that friends weren’t supposed to picture each other in.

The next morning, you woke up to the smell of bacon and the sound of Joshua singing along with the music playing from his phone. You’d always loved his voice, so hearing it immediately after you woke up was a pleasant surprise. You slowly walked into your kitchen, hoping not to disturb him, but when he heard you coming, he stopped singing and turned the music off. With an exaggerated pout on your face, you asked, “Why’d you stop?”

“I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Josh, when have I ever indicated to you that hearing you sing bothers me?”

With a shy smile on his face, he replied, “You haven’t.”

“And you know me. I would tell you if something you did bothered me, right?”

“Right.”

“So, hearing you sing does not bother me.”

“Ok.”

With a grin on his face, Joshua restarted the music, and the two of you sang along together until breakfast was ready. As soon as the eggs and bacon were done cooking, you each fixed a plate and sat down at your kitchen table. Once you were comfortable, you said, “Seriously, thank you for being there for me last night. I don’t think I tell you enough just how much I appreciate your friendship.”

“You don’t have to thank me, (Y/N). We’ve been over this.”

“Yes I do. I was a wreck last night until you came over.”

“If you really wanna thank me, you can enjoy your food.”

You were quiet after that, knowing that you’d never win. You couldn’t really be upset, though, since you knew that he was speaking from a place of love. He always spoke to you from a place of love.

After the two of you finished breakfast, you said, “You know that the fact that you cooked means that I’m doing the dishes, right?”

“Absolutely not.”

“But that’s how we always do it when you spend the night. Whoever didn’t cook washes the dishes.”

“Unless I’m spending the night because you’re upset about something. That’s when I do both so that you get to relax.”

“That has never been the rule, and you know it.”

“Well, it is now.”

“But why?”

“Consider it a bribe. I do the breakfast dishes, and you tell me what you were so upset about last night.”

“I was upset about breaking up with Chan,” you said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“And I know that, but the way you were acting was different. It wasn’t just ‘I just had a bad breakup’ sad. I think there was something else going on.”

“But there wasn’t.”

“(Y/N). I know you, and you know as well as I do that’s bullshit. Come on, talk to me. Did I do something wrong?”

With a defeated sigh, you responded, “No, you didn’t.”

“Then what’s going on? You got all quiet last night out of nowhere, and you looked like you were thinking about something.”

Finally, you relented and said, “I’m just having some new feelings that I don’t know how to process. Can we talk about it another time?”

Joshua softened at your explanation and replied, “Yeah, of course. I’m still doing the dishes, though.” Then, he laughed and stood up from the kitchen table before you could get another word in. As he walked away, you realized that the butterflies in your stomach were back. Every moment with him was making you want him more, and you hated yourself for it. Yet another reason to not tell him, you supposed at the time.

It took a couple of months for you to give in and tell Joshua that you liked him, even though you’d promised yourself you wouldn’t from the moment you realized it. Ironically, you confessed your feelings on a night that was very similar to the night that you realized you had feelings for him in the first place. He was spending the night at your apartment, and while one of the worst movies you’d ever seen played on your television screen, you sat with him and talked about how ridiculous the movie was.

“I will never understand how you always manage to find such terrible movies,” you laughed.

“Hey! I don’t think this one is all that bad,” he retorted. “Besides, you were just talking about how fun it is to watch.”

“Yeah, because it’s fun to make fun of!” you defended. “The acting is mediocre at best, the sets look like they were made by a bunch of bored kindergarteners, and the plot makes no sense! What about that isn’t fun to laugh at?”

“I guess you’re right.”

As the movie’s ending credits flashed across your tv, the room went silent, and you quickly got lost in your thoughts. The butterflies in your stomach had returned, a sensation that you were growing increasingly familiar with, and irritated by, as your feelings for Joshua grew. You were driving yourself crazy trying to move on, but nothing worked. It was like your heart was out to get you, and you couldn’t understand why.

You snapped out of your thoughts when you heard Joshua say your name and ask, “Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you replied, hoping that he wouldn’t notice that you still weren’t entirely focused.

Of course, he did notice, and he said, “I know that look. It’s your thinking look. What’s going on?”

With a defeated sigh, you asked, “Do you remember the new feelings I mentioned when you spent the night after I broke up with Chan?”

“Yeah, I think so. Why?”

“Those feelings are still there, and it’s getting harder to ignore them.”

“Then don’t ignore them. Talk to me about what’s going on.”

That was when you finally admitted, “I realized the night that Chan and I broke up that I like you. I didn’t mean for it to happen, and if the fact that I have feelings for you makes you uncomfortable, I will happily distance myself until they go away. I just-”

“Stop right there. I am not uncomfortable, and I do not want you to distance yourself from me. That is the last thing that I want. Ok?”

Joshua’s calm demeanor despite your admission made you feel slightly better, so you said, “Ok.”

“Now, what was that about you having feelings for me?” he asked, a teasing smile forming on his face.

“You heard what I said,” you answered with a soft laugh.

“Does that mean that this is a date?”

“I don’t know. Do you want it to be a date?”

Joshua pretended to think for a moment before he answered, “Yeah. I think I do.”

“Then yes, it is.”

Without wasting any more time, Joshua cupped your face in his hands and kissed you just like he’d wanted to do his whole life. You didn’t know this, but he’d been interested in you for a long time, and he’d spent far more time than he cared to admit hoping that someday you would feel the same. Now that he knew that you did, he definitely wasn’t going to waste any time.

As you melted into Joshua’s touch, you found yourself wondering why the hell it took you so long to finally confess. You couldn’t get too upset with yourself, though, considering that you now knew that he wanted you too. Still, you couldn’t help but feel like a little bit of an idiot for not shooting your shot sooner.

It didn’t take long at all for Joshua to deepen the kiss and tangle his hands in your hair. A soft moan left your mouth, and all you could think about was how badly you wanted him. But, just as you wrapped your arms around his neck, your phone started to ring.

You groaned in annoyance as you let go of Joshua to check your phone. When you saw your mom’s contact photo pop up on the screen, though, you let out a loud laugh before leaving the room to take the call.

While you were in the other room talking to your mom, Joshua sat on your couch and wondered why the fuck he waited so long to tell you that he liked you. As he thought about it a bit more, though, he realized that it was because he was terrified of losing you as a friend. After all, he’d known you for most of his life, and you’d always been there for him when no one else cared enough to be. He didn’t think he could handle losing that friendship if you didn’t feel the same way or if the two of you did get into a relationship that didn’t end well.

When you came back into the room after calling your mom, Joshua smiled at you and asked, “Is everything ok?”

“Yeah, everything is fine. My mom just wanted to ask if I’m still going to my sister’s place for dinner tomorrow.”

“Are you?”

“Yeah. I also asked if you could come with me, and she said yes. Do you wanna come to family dinner this week?”

“Yeah, that would be great.”

“Awesome, I’ll let her know. Later, though. I wanna spend more time with you first,” you said before you kissed him again.

As your relationship with Joshua progressed, you couldn’t believe how almost perfect it seemed to be. He never made you feel unloved when you were with him; he was always doing little things to show you just how much he loved you. Even your family adored him, which was a pleasant surprise, considering they’d never liked your previous partners much. Joshua grew especially close to your niece, who called him her best friend and cried whenever it was time for him to leave family events that he attended with you. You loved the way he seemed to fit into your life, despite any minor problems that the two of you had, like both of you being too stubborn to let petty arguments go.

If anyone had asked Joshua about his relationship with you, he would have told them that it was almost perfect. Sure, he loved you, and he was elated that you loved him too, but there were a few things that worried him. The main one was that you didn’t let him in like he thought you needed to. He understood that there were things that you were reluctant to ask for help with, especially your admittedly poor mental health, but all he wanted was to be there for you. Not knowing what else to do, he decided to just talk to you about it.

One night, you were sleeping over at Joshua’s apartment, and he figured that it was a good time to have the conversation that he thought the two of you needed to have. So, while the two of you were lying in his bed, he asked, “Honey, can I talk to you about something?”

“Yeah, of course. What’s up?”

“I’m really worried about you.”

“Why?”

“Well, I’ve noticed that you tend to push me away when you’re upset. It kind of feels like you don’t trust me to be there for you, and that hurts, if I’m being honest.”

With a sigh, you replied, “It’s not that I don’t trust you. I just worry about bothering you. You already have so much going on. I don’t want to add on and stress you out more, you know?”

“Hey, I understand that, but you could never bother me, my love. Ok?”

“Ok.”

“Please just let me be there for you.”

“I will.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Thank you, baby. I love you.”

“I love you too, honey,” you said as you pulled him into a hug and buried your face in his neck, yawning as you relaxed in his arms.

With a soft laugh, Joshua asked, “How about we get some sleep, honey?”

“No, I don’t wanna,” you complained.

“I heard you yawning, lovebug. You cannot convince me you’re not tired.”

“I’m always tired. I wanna stay up and talk to you.”

“I mean, so do I, but we also need sleep. Please, baby? For me?”

With an exaggerated sigh of frustration, you laughed and said, “Ok, but only because I love you.”

“I love you too.”

After that, you and Joshua both went silent as you dozed off together, satisfied with the results of your conversation and hopeful that your relationship would be ok.

Your relationship was not, in fact, ok. Sure, you made some progress in letting Joshua in more, but it was a long, difficult process. Especially when you thought about all of the ways that previous partners had left you completely broken and unable to truly let people see all of you. You wanted to be better for Joshua’s sake, though, and you knew that an important part of that was trying to prove to him that you really did trust him. Easier said than done.

No one could say that you didn’t try to let Joshua in more, but there were always going to be situations where you held back. You did tell him when you were hurting, but you didn’t always tell him why, especially if he was the reason that you were upset. In your mind, there was no point in starting an argument because you were certain that you were overreacting when he upset you anyway. You also tried to the best of your ability to hide it when you were struggling with deeper issues, like the lingering memories of your exes that kept you up at night and all of the very detailed reasons that you hated your appearance, because you knew that there was no way for him to help you.

The other problem was that he was pushy when he thought that something was wrong. He refused to stop asking you what was wrong until you snapped, and then he blamed you for the argument that ensued, like the entire problem hadn’t started with him not listening when you told him you didn’t want to talk about whatever was wrong. It drove you insane, but you knew that there probably wasn’t much that you could do to fix it. So, you shoved the resentment down until there was nothing but happiness and love remaining, at least when it came to what everyone else could see.

Joshua could tell that you still weren’t letting him in, but he couldn’t understand why. All he wanted was to be a shoulder for you to cry on, and after a while, he wondered if you still wanted the same. Sure, he understood that there were some things that you weren’t comfortable with talking about, but he couldn’t wrap his head around why you lied about being ok when it came to the simpler things, like getting into fights with your sister or the times that he knew you were upset with him. He had no idea how to approach the situation, though, which only upset him more.

The other thing that worried Joshua was your tendency to rely on less-than-healthy coping mechanisms to handle some of your more serious problems. At one point, before the two of you had started dating, he’d noticed you leaning on alcohol a bit too much to numb the pain, and he’d successfully encouraged you to stop drinking. But, there were other concerning things that he noticed that he really didn’t want to think about, especially when he considered the reasons you probably had those particular coping mechanisms. Instead, he tried to focus on the fact that you really did seem to be getting better when it came to finding healthier outlets for your emotions.

When you and Joshua spent Halloween together a few months after your three-year anniversary, you knew that it was probably the beginning of the end for your relationship. You didn’t want that to be the case, but you couldn’t help but think that something was going to go wrong.

You were proven right when the two of you went to a play at a theater in your city and got into an argument in the middle of the theater’s lobby. Almost since the play had begun, you felt overwhelmed, but you desperately tried to ignore it for Joshua's sake.

It didn’t take long after the show ended for you to start really panicking, but Joshua still wanted to take pictures with the rest of the cast before he left. So, you said, “I need to step outside, but I’m not trying to rush you. You keep getting pictures; I just need a minute.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“Baby, it’s ok. I just need to step out. You go ahead and get the pictures that you want.”

“Are you sure? I-”

“Just fucking go,” you snapped before you walked out of the theater.

Joshua didn’t understand why you didn’t want him with you when you got overwhelmed. He was your boyfriend, for fuck’s sake, so why were you so against him being there for you? Did you not trust him? Did you still buy into that bullshit about bothering him? He had no idea, so he decided to talk to you about it once you were away from the theater.

While you stood outside, trying to fight back the anxiety that threatened to bubble over into a full-blown breakdown right outside of your city’s theater, you found yourself wondering how the fuck your relationship with Joshua got so bad. When the two of you first got together, you’d made a promise to each other to work together and love each other no matter what. As time went on, though, you noticed the distance between the two of you growing to the point that you didn’t know if you could continue trying to bridge the gap.

Joshua never did talk to you about the problems at the theater. Instead, he decided to ignore the situation and hope the two of you could get better. It was only a matter of time before his hopes and yours would be shattered.

The day that your relationship with Joshua finally ended was the day that you fell apart, though it wasn’t just because of the breakup. It all started when you got into an argument with your sister that left you feeling angry and confused. When she finally left your apartment, you felt like she hated you, and you needed support. So, against your better judgement, you called your boyfriend and asked him to come over.

Joshua was at your door in an instant, and you immediately wrapped your arms around his neck and started to sob. It hurt him to see you in such a vulnerable state, but he knew that he couldn’t change the way your family treated you, no matter how badly he wanted to. So, he did the next best thing: holding you close and giving you a safe place to process your emotions. He didn’t know that he wasn’t as much of a safe space for you as he used to be, but at that point, you had no intention of telling him that.

As you cried, you found yourself thinking about the absolute train wreck that was your life. Your family treated you like you were nothing to them unless they wanted something from you, past heartaches haunted you more than they should have, and all you wanted was to fall back into your previously established unhealthy coping mechanisms. Of course, you knew that they were unhealthy, but you didn’t care. After all, they were pretty fucking effective.

Once you’d cried all you could, you let out a sigh of defeat and said, “I need a drink.”

“No, you don’t. You know that’s not a good idea.”

“I don’t really care right now, honestly.”

It killed Joshua that you seemed hell bent on destroying yourself. He knew that you struggled, and he understood. Hell, considering how long you’d known each other and the things that he’d seen you go through in your lifetime, he was pretty sure he knew you better than anyone else did. Despite the fact that he understood, however, he couldn’t just sit by and watch you throw all the hard work you’d put into getting better down the drain.

“Baby, you’re not drinking.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want you to fall back into a bad place!”

“I’m already there. It doesn’t fucking matter. None of it fucking matters anymore.”

“Does the fact that I care about you matter?”

“Of course, it fucking does.”

“Then act like it.” You were quiet after that, but he continued, “All I want is to be there for you.”

“What if I don’t want you to be there for me?” you snapped, exhausted and overwhelmed from the day you’d had and not wanting to keep fighting with him.

The moment the words left your mouth; you knew that you made a mistake. The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop, and you waited for Joshua to say something. In the end, he just sighed and said, “If that’s the way you feel, we don’t have to do this anymore.”

You started to tear up as you said, “Wait, please. I didn’t mean-”

“Stop lying to me, (Y/N). I can’t take the lies anymore.”

With that, Joshua walked out of your apartment, and you cried yourself to sleep that night for the first time in years.

When you woke up the next morning, you opened your phone to a message from Joshua. You really didn’t want to open it, but you hated ignoring people. Especially the man that you still loved.

Joshua: Just so you know, this doesn’t mean that I don’t care about you anymore. It just means that we both need to heal so that we can treat ourselves and each other better. You’re still my best friend, and I still want to be a part of your life. Ok? Y/N: Ok. Thanks, Josh. Joshua: How many times do I have to tell you not to thank me for caring about you?

You didn’t respond to his message after that. You couldn’t, really. All you wanted to say was that you loved him, and you knew that he didn’t want to hear those words from you anymore.

For a while after you broke up with Joshua, things were ok between the two of you, at least for the most part. Your relationship wasn’t exactly the same as before, of course, but you still considered him one of your closest friends and made a conscious effort to include him in your life. He appreciated that greatly and did the same for you, which made you happier than words could say. After all, you knew that you could be ok with not being in a romantic relationship with him, but losing him as a friend would have killed you.

As time went on, your greatest fear came true. You found yourself getting sucked into surprisingly heated arguments with Joshua more frequently than you ever did when you dated him, and after a while, you started distancing yourself, tired of fighting constantly. On top of that, you struggled more with your mental health than you originally anticipated after your breakup, which made you want to pull away from your now ex even more.

When you finally realized that your friendship with Joshua had run its course, there was no huge argument, with screams to fuck off and accusations of lying about the love the two of you once had for each other. The end of your friendship was much less explosive than that. However, that didn’t make the last texts between the two of you any less painful.

Y/N: Can I ask you something? Joshua: What is it? Y/N: Do you want to talk to me? Joshua: I do, but it hurts. Y/N: I understand. Should I give you some space?

There was no response after that, and that was how you knew that one of the longest-enduring friendships of your life was over.

Not having Joshua in your life hurt you more than you ever thought it could. Sure, you knew that it would be painful if it ever happened, but you honestly underestimated just how painful it was to lose the man that used to make you feel just a little bit less alone. Every time you saw something that made you think of him, you felt like you were going to start crying. You thought about calling him constantly. You still found yourself starting to type messages to him that you knew you couldn’t send, because you knew that he didn’t want to read them anymore.

One of the main ways that you dealt with losing Joshua as a friend was throwing yourself into new friendships and putting far more effort than what was necessary into rekindling and maintaining old ones. You lost sleep texting friends that lived in different time zones. You spent most of your free time either glued to your phone as you talked to your friends or organizing hangouts with your friends that were close enough that you could see them sometimes. After a while, every moment of your free time was filled by other people. You had absolutely no time for yourself, but that was by design. If you were alone, you’d spend too much time thinking about the pain that still threatened to swallow you whole.

Joshua wasn’t faring much better than you were. You’d hurt him deeply, but that didn’t change that he still wanted you in his life. In his mind, you’d showed him time and time again that you didn’t want the same from him, though, so after a while, he stopped bothering to reach out. Instead, he spent more time with his friends and family, and he also found himself getting sucked into his own less-than-healthy coping mechanisms, like drinking. Yes, he knew that he was a hypocrite for leaning on alcohol to handle difficult emotions after expressly telling you that it was a bad idea, but he didn’t care anymore. All he cared about was numbing the pain.

It was a random Saturday night when Joshua found himself at the club once again, desperate to forget you. Instead of dancing like the friends that he’d arrived with, however, he tended to just sit at the bar and drink until he could barely remember his own name. It probably wasn’t the safest choice he could have made, but goddamn, it was effective when it came to numbing the pain. At least, it was until he looked up and saw you walk into the club.

You hated it when your friends decided to drag you out to random clubs that you’d never been to. You understood why they did it, of course, but that didn’t mean you enjoyed the experience. Still, you tried to put on a happy face for their sake. After all, you were pretty sure they were tired of you talking about how much you missed Joshua. You were tired of talking about it too, if you were being honest with yourself. However, you were also relieved that you slowly seemed to be getting over him.

All of your progress in moving on seemed to go away the second you spotted Joshua sitting at the bar, cocktail in hand. From the moment you laid eyes on him, you wanted to leave the bar, go back to your apartment, and sob until you were too tired to stay awake. You knew that your friends would never allow that, though, so instead, you made your way to the dance floor.

While you were dancing, a man you’d never seen before caught your attention. He was gorgeous, with elegant features that made you stop and stare for what was probably far too long, and based on the fact that he stared at you the exact same way, he was just as interested as you were. From the moment that you made eye contact with him; you knew that he was the perfect distraction for the night. So, you approached him and introduced yourself.

“I’m Jeonghan,” he said. “Do you wanna dance?”

“That sounds great.”

With a smile, Jeonghan took your hand, and the two of you started to move in time with the song that blasted through the club. You knew that he probably wouldn’t be interested in you beyond one night, but you didn’t care in the slightest. All you cared about was not being alone anymore, even if you were fairly certain that there was no hope of a lasting connection with the person that dulled your loneliness for the night. But then again, you never really did know what the universe had in store for you.

Thank you for reading! If you liked this, please like and reblog! If you wanna be tagged in future works, fill out the taglist form here! If you want to check out my other works, check out my main masterlist. If you want to see what else is in the works, you can check my upcoming works list! If none of that interests you, or there's something specific you want to see, feel free to send a request via my asks or dms!

Thank you again for reading. I hope you have a lovely day!

[gotta-winwin]

i know the end | c.vn

⭐ starring: vernon chwe 💌 genre: angst | wc: 2.3k

💬 preview: vernon returns to the site of it all– growing up, falling in love, death– nearly nine years later. 

cw/tw: reader is dead through the whole fic, heavy angst, inspired by the bridge to terabithia (2007), recalling memories, childhood friends, talk of injury and death, investigating a death

🪽fic rating: pg  ☁️ masterlist & a/n: bridge to terabithia! i loved experimenting with this type of format and story idea– unconventional but so so good. this one is dedicated to lexi (@vampsol)

now playing: i know the end by phoebe bridgers

this is an addition to the angst olympics: click here to read the masterlist!

Vernon returns to the scene of the crime– to you. 

He knows it’s unhealthy to be lingering on the past, his mind forever stuck in a time loop while his physical body moved on, yet he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t bring himself to leave, not when he still hadn’t figured out exactly what had happened nine years ago. 

He’s mulled over the events of that day many times over in his head, circling through until he comes up empty handed with his head throbbing from tears shed.  

He vows to himself he’ll stop thinking of you once he’s figured it all out. Once he knows how and why you died. 

He takes careful steps up the ladder of your treehouse, now covered in moss and rotting from the moisture. It’s smaller than he remembers it, or perhaps he’s just taller– no longer the four foot boy he once was. He ducks his head inside the tiny space and smiles. 

The secret alcove the two of you shared had not changed. 

If he concentrated hard enough, he could almost see you sitting on the cushions next to where he stood, a picture book in your hands, your hair tied back in pigtails and the braided friendship bracelet on your wrist. 

It’s strange, for Vernon knew you’d be almost eighteen by now. You’re forever frozen in his mind, and he can’t picture what you might look like if you had lived, no matter how hard he tries. 

He runs his fingers across the weathered spines of the books lining the bookshelf in the corner and closes his eyes. 

The first thing he smells is the forest. Back in its heyday, the forest had smelled like rain and fresh moss, the scent overtaking his senses and transporting him back in time where he stood. 

He takes a long breath and the smell of your lavender shampoo washes through him. 

He opens his eyes. 

“Hey, Non.” Your eyes twinkle up at him from your place on the floor. Your legs are crossed, hands in your lap as you look quizzically at him. “What are you doing?” 

He blinks. “You’re here.” 

You laugh. “I’m always here. Did you get yelled at by your dad again? Is that why you’re up here?” 

It takes Vernon a second to remember what you were talking about. You were still frozen in his childhood, and although it felt like a lifetime ago for him, it was all you knew. 

He shakes his head. “No. I just missed you.” He remembers how you were always here, curled up in the treehouse. 

Your cheeks turn pink at his words. “What’s going on with you? You’re never this kind to me.” 

Vernon’s heart stings, but he knows it’s true. 10 year old him had believed the two of you were going to be together forever, and why waste time telling you he loved you when he had a lifetime to say it? “I guess I had an epiphany.” 

He watches as your eyebrows furrow, not knowing the word. 

“A realization.” He explained, although it doesn’t even begin to cover it. “I do miss you.” 

You smile, and he sees the wiggly tooth he would’ve pulled out for you in a couple days. In the past. “Well, we’re together now.” 

His lungs constrict as he watches you pat the spot next to you, urging him to sit. He stumbles back and climbs down the ladder, movements hurried and clumsy. 

“Vernon!” He hears you call for him as he descends, but he doesn’t stop until his feet touch the mossy grass once again. 

He forces himself to breathe, willing the pooling tears away from his eyes. He’s not proud of it, but he flees, running back towards the road– back to civilization. 

It takes Vernon three days to gather the courage to return back to the treehouse. He doesn’t dare enter however, staying put on the sturdy ground as he cranes his neck to look at the makeshift window. 

He swears ghosts aren’t real. Yet– you had been right there. 

He takes a deliberate turn away from the ladder, instead trekking in the opposite direction, deeper into the forest. 

He knew where he’d find the answers he needed. 

The road to Terabithia is difficult to remember, as Vernon scrambles for the right path and directions. He knows it’s silly– a childhood ritual to open up a door to a make-believe kingdom, but you had died on your way to Terabithia, and Vernon knew he needed to retrace those steps.

A straight line through the red berry bushes. Skip the third rock as you cross the creek. Don’t touch the water– even if it’s shallow, the waters are poisoned so unassuming people can’t find the kingdom. Circle the lonely tree stump twice before moving on. Knock on the wrinkly tree that looks like an old hag. Say the password and walk through the vines covering the hole to the other side. Terabithia will show itself to you if you did it all right. 

Vernon does it all perfectly until he reaches the vines. 

“Shoot.” He mutters, pacing back and forth in front of the wrinkly tree. At least he believed it was the right tree, it no longer looked like an old hag in his adult eyes. “What was the password?” 

He knocks on the wood. “Huckleberry!” Vernon murmurs a quick prayer and walks through the vines. 

Nothing. 

He exits and tries again. 

Nothing. Again. Nothing. Again. 

Vernon keeps trying until the vines have rubbed his arms raw and his hair was covered in decaying leaves. 

Yet Terabithia keeps its gates closed to him. 

“Why?” It’s a croaked out whisper, as Vernon kneels on the forest floor, vision blurry from the tears bubbling up in his sight. 

Deep down, he knows the answer. Terabithia was never real, even if it had been real to the both of you once before. 

Vernon climbs into his childhood bed and wallows. It’s pathetic, but he curls up underneath the Spiderman sheets and tries to disappear into the mattress. 

His parents are happy he’s home, but he knows they’re still worried about why. He hears them whisper about it in the hallway. 

“You know he doesn’t do well coming home.” His mother’s voice reaches his ears in a hushed whisper. “It’s still too raw.” 

His father scoffs. “It’s been nearly 9 years since Y/N–” 

“Don’t say her name.” His mother hisses, effectively cutting his father off. “He’s not well. I knew we should’ve moved out of this town when we had the chance.” 

Their voices grow fainter as they walk away, taking the rest of the conversation away from Vernon, downstairs. 

He throws the duvet over his head, shutting out all light and sound. 

“Hey.” 

He jumps when an arm touches his side, warm and alive. 

“Holy shit– Y/N, you can’t scare me like that. Where did you–” He breaks off when he turns and your face is inches away from his. 

“You said a bad word.” You giggle at him, booping his nose with your index finger. “Why are you under the covers?” 

“Hiding.” He mumbles, looking down at his hands and realizing he’s gotten smaller. “What–” 

“Hiding from what?” 

“From…” Vernon pauses, not quite knowing. “Everything, I guess.” 

You flip over onto your back and the duvet sags around you, covering you from his view. Vernon pushes it back up with his leg. 

“How old are we?” He asks, because he’s got a feeling he’s no longer 18 anymore.

Your eyes side eye both him and his question. “We’re 10. We’ve always been 10.” 

“Right.” 

There’s a silence as you stare up at the light escaping through the threads of the duvet and Vernon stares at you. 

“Y/N.” He whispers, his voice catching in his throat. 

You hum. 

“Will you take me to Terabithia?” 

Vernon kept his focus on the warmth of your hand gripping his as he followed you out the house and across the street towards the forest. 

He’s forgotten how the world looked as a child, relearning how vivid and curious the world looked around him. He’s wide-eyed as he stumbles after you, hand clutching yours tightly as if the autumn breeze could suddenly whisk you away. 

He doesn’t understand how it’s possible that you’re here. He doesn’t bother to understand– Vernon simply allows himself to feel. 

You sing the old nursery rhyme that contains the directions to Terabithia as the two of you venture deeper into the forest. 

“A straight line through berry red, cross the creek through just up ahead, skip the third and the water’s bad, circle the lonely sitting spot, say hello to the hag with the pot, speak the password once and twice, Terabithia lies beyond the vines!” 

Vernon pulls you back towards him as you both near the entrance. “Wait.” 

You frown. “What’s wrong?” 

“What if it doesn’t work anymore?” 

You laugh. “Terabithia likes us, it won’t close the gates.” 

You try and untangle your fingers from his, but Vernon refuses to let go. 

“Let me go, Non.” You tug away, harder this time. “Let me go!” 

He grips tighter. He’s afraid if he lets you go, you’ll leave. 

“Vernon, you’re scaring me.” You’re looking at him with a little fear, but mostly concern.

He takes a deep breath and drops your hand. “I’m sorry.” 

You study him just a little longer before shaking out your hand, reaching up to knock the wrinkly tree. “Huckleberry, huckleberry.” You repeat the password twice. 

“Wait.” His voice breaks as he stops you, moments before you pass through the vines. 

You stop mid-step to look back at him. “Why are you crying, Non?” 

He reaches up to wipe his face, hands coming back wet and grimy with dirt. He hadn’t realized he had been crying. “I–” Why had he been crying? “I don’t know.” 

You reach a hand out to him. “Come on, Terabithia’s waiting.” 

He watches as you step through, disappearing into the vines. He reaches for your outstretched hand and grabs onto nothing. 

It’s a mad scramble as he runs through the gate after you, the vines whacking him painfully in the face as he passes through. He’s much taller now, and he feels distinctly 18 once more. 

“No, no–” Vernon panics when he doesn’t see you on the other side. “Y/N? No– No! No, I was so close!” He kicks a pile of fallen leaves on the ground next to him and they fly up into the air, scattering across the mossy carpet. 

His face is wet and his tongue tastes bitter with tears. 

Terabithia remains closed. 

Vernon picks himself back enough to go out with his parents for one day. 

He wheels the shopping cart through the aisles brainlessly, eyes unfocused. No matter how hard he tries, his mind still fixates on the path to Terabithia– and you. 

And then he sees it. You. 

He halts to a stop in the middle of the aisle, head turning back around for another look. A girl stands in the aisle across from him, her long brown hair reaching her waist and a braided friendship bracelet on her wrist. 

It’s you, if you had lived to see 18. 

Vernon’s heart drops to his stomach and he finds himself running towards you. His mouth opens to call out your name, but words fail him, rendering him silent as he follows you out the supermarket and into the parking lot. 

You keep walking, and Vernon continues to follow. 

Across the street, into the forest, past the treehouse and red berry bushes. 

Vernon nears enough to hear you singing the tune, the old nursery rhyme with the directions to Terabithia. He knows it’s you for sure now. It has to be you. 

He knows it doesn't make any sense. How you’re walking in front of him, fully grown and very much alive, but Vernon doesn’t question it. Instead, he continues to follow you– feeling the hope and warmth coursing through his veins and revamping his heart. 

“Skip the third and the water’s bad.” You’re still singing as you jump the rocks across the creek, its waters rushing with power through the forest. 

Vernon sees it before it happens, like he’s seen it once before. You leap to skip the third rock, following the instructions of the song, and your foot slips. 

Vernon screams as he watches your head crash against the rock and your body slip into the water’s current. It echoes through the forest and the birds fly in a frenzy off the nearby trees. 

He swears he’s seen this happen before– nine or so years ago. 

This time however, unlike the boy he was nine years ago, Vernon doesn’t hesitate. 

He kicks off his shoes and jumps in after you. He’s not going to watch you die twice. 

The cold hits him first, the rushing waves overtaking his senses as he attempts to find you in the current. 

“Y/N!” The water bubbles around him as he screams for you. 

It’s a sorry attempt. Vernon can feel his clothes weighing him down, as the currents fought to keep him away from you. 

He sees you, just a few feet away from him. Vernon battles the crashing waters to get to you. 

He’s losing air, but he keeps going, until the waters go deeper and you start to sink. Vernon kicks, propelling himself closer to you– deeper into the water. 

Air escapes him. He sputters and chokes. But he keeps going. You’re right there. 

Vernon watches you drop, your hair floating around your sleeping face. You’re even more beautiful at 18 and Vernon feels his lungs constrict at the thought of getting to love you as adults. 

Then he blinks, and you’re gone. 

Vernon stops kicking. He lets himself sink. 

Doctor’s notes: 

Patient: Vernon Hansol Chwe Reason: PTSD, heightened grief causing hallucinations (SED)

Doctor’s notes:  The patient suffered from a traumatic loss of a childhood friend and lover at a young age, as he watched her slip and fall into the creek while playing in the forest. He has been unresponsive, his mind blocking out the memory as a way to protect himself. The patient has also experienced heightened hallucinations, believing the friend to be still alive and with him. Encouraged treatment is to distance him from places pertaining to the trauma. 

Let him forget her.  

[diamonddaze01]

golden promises

pairing: xu minghao x reader | wc: 5.6k genre: angst angst angst! failed soulmates au | warnings: none a/n: this one goes out to my 8stars @ylangelegy & @haologram // thank you to @gotta-winwin and @haologram for the beta i adore you both! // my second attempt at trying to make my writing more poetic lol recommended listening 🎧:  raanjhan - parampara tandon | bin tere - vishal-shekar | samjho na - aditya rikhari | khairiyat - arijit singh | ek tarfa - darshan rawal | judaiyaan - darshan rawal & shreya ghoshal | dill tutda - jassie gill | jhol - maanu & annural khalid | humnava mere - jubin nautiyal  the angst olympics are live! check out all the amazing authors <3 join my taglist here

summary: And so it began. Minghao, who believed in fate, and you, who didn’t.

The first time Xu Minghao saw you, his timer hit zero.

There are moments in life that split time into before and after. Moments that settle deep in your bones, rewriting everything you thought you knew. Moments where the air thickens, where the world rearranges itself, where your heart stops—not in fear, but in recognition.

He’d heard stories about this. How the second you meet your soulmate, the universe exhales, and suddenly, everything makes sense. How the colors brighten, how your name must already be written somewhere inside him, waiting for his mouth to speak it into existence.

And for him, it did.

The summer air was heavy with the scent of ripe mangoes and jasmine, the marketplace humming with the kind of easy chaos that made everything feel alive. He wasn’t looking for anything—just wandering, just passing through, just existing—until he saw you.

You were standing in front of a small stall, the kind draped in delicate trinkets and woven bracelets, spinning one between your fingers. Sunlight poured over you like melted gold, catching in your hair, glinting off the curve of your smile.

Something cracked open inside him.

Dhadkan tak tainu rasta diya, sajna

His heart had shown him the way to you.

Minghao looked down at his wrist.

Zero.

The numbers, the ones he had watched his whole life, had disappeared. The silent countdown, the seconds that had ticked through his childhood and whispered promises into his dreams, were gone.

No fireworks. No divine chorus. Just this—his heart a steady, unshaken certainty.

It’s you.

His feet moved before he could think, drawn forward by something older than reason, stronger than doubt. He was going to say something—what, he didn’t know. Maybe your name, as if he had known it all along. Maybe something simple, something mundane, just to hear the sound of your voice.

But then, his gaze flickered to your wrist.

And there it was.

Numbers. Still ticking.

His breath left him all at once.

It was as if the earth had shifted beneath him, tilting the universe off its axis. The relief, the elation, the quiet wonder—shattered. His fate was sealed, but yours was still unraveling.

The wind tangled in your hair as you laughed at something your friend said, a sound so light it felt like it could lift off the ground and drift toward the sky. You didn’t notice him. You didn’t feel what he felt.

Minghao had spent his whole life waiting for this moment. But now that it had arrived, it didn’t belong to him the way he thought it would.

He could have called out to you. Could have walked forward, told you his name, told you that he knew. That he knew.

But fate had played its hand, and it was not kind.

So he stayed where he was, watching as you tied the bracelet around your wrist, as you moved through the market, as you disappeared into the crowd.

His heart, once so certain, now a quiet war between longing and restraint.

He had found you.

But you hadn’t found him.

The second time Xu Minghao saw you, you were at an art gallery. 

It was a quiet evening, the kind where the world outside felt muffled, softened by the hush of a setting sun. The gallery was nearly empty, save for a few patrons lost in the language of brushstrokes and shadowed frames. The air smelled of old paper and fresh paint, of something delicate and fleeting, like a memory slipping through fingertips.

And there you were.

Standing in front of a canvas, your head tilted ever so slightly, eyes tracing each careful stroke. It was an abstract piece—colors bleeding into each other, shapes unraveling into something intangible. The kind of painting that felt like a secret, like it was whispering something just out of reach.

Minghao should have walked away. Should have kept his distance, let you exist in that moment without the weight of his knowing.

But he had spent days—weeks—thinking about you.

So he found himself saying, “Do you think the artist believed in soulmates?”

You turned at the sound of his voice, eyes catching his. Startled at first, but then—recognition flickered, not of him, but of something in his words, something worth answering.

“I doubt it,” you said, lips curving into a thoughtful smile. “Do you?”

Minghao hesitated. He could have lied, could have said something lighthearted, something easy. But standing here, in the quiet weight of oil and canvas, in the space between past and present, the truth pressed against his ribs like a caged bird.

“I think… sometimes you don’t get a choice.”

You laughed, soft and warm, like a silk ribbon unraveling in the wind. The kind of laugh that made things feel lighter, even when they weren’t.

“That’s tragic,” you murmured. “I’d rather choose.”

Minghao swallowed.

Tu taan saare dil 'te hi kabza karke beh gaya

You had already taken over his heart, even if you didn’t know it.

He studied you then—the way your fingers hovered just slightly in front of you, as if reaching for the meaning behind the painting. The way your eyes held galaxies, waiting to be charted. He wanted to memorize this moment, carve it into his bones before time stole it away.

He thought about telling you. About turning his wrist to show you the truth written on his skin. About how his world had stopped the moment he saw you, how the universe had already chosen for him.

But then your wrist shifted, the timer still ticking down. Still leading you to someone else.

The universe may have chosen for him, but for you, fate was still unwritten.

So he didn’t say anything.

Instead, he turned back to the painting, letting silence stretch between you like an unfinished story. And maybe that’s all he would ever be to you—a passing presence, a stranger in an art gallery, someone whose name you might never think to ask.

“Maybe you’re right,” he said finally, voice quiet. “Maybe choice is better.”

You smiled again, the kind that lingered even after you turned away, moving to the next painting.

Minghao stayed behind, staring at the colors on the canvas.

Wondering if love, when unreturned, still counted as love at all.

It should have ended there. A fleeting moment, a brush of time that barely left a mark. 

He told himself it would. That he would walk away, that he would let fate take its course, even if it didn’t bend in his favor.

But you didn’t let him.

You let him in.

It started small. A conversation stretched across an evening, then another. Then a name exchanged at a café a week later when he ran into you by accident—except it didn’t feel like an accident at all.

"Xu Minghao," he said.

You repeated it, testing the syllables on your tongue, making them something softer. Something dangerous.

After that, you existed in his life like a watercolor painting—gradual, spreading into all the empty spaces, impossible to contain.

It was raining the first time you talked about soulmates again.

You were both in a café, your fingers wrapped around a warm cup, the city humming outside in blurred headlights and water-streaked pavement. Minghao watched you, the way you always seemed lost in your own world before pulling him into it.

“The thing about soulmates,” you mused, tracing a finger along the rim of your cup, “is that they take the romance out of it.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You think so?”

You nodded, thoughtful. “It’s too easy. Too neat. Love should be a choice, don’t you think?”

Minghao hesitated. His wrist had already made its choice. But you hadn’t.

“So you don’t believe in soulmates,” he murmured.

You exhaled a quiet laugh. “No. I think it’s just another story we tell ourselves. Something to make the world feel a little less lonely.”

He wanted to tell you, then. Wanted to turn his wrist over on the table, let you see the blank space where the numbers had disappeared, let you understand what had already been decided for him.

But you had a timer still ticking down, still leading you somewhere else.

So he just smiled, soft and unreadable. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Like—what if it’s all just biology? A trick of the mind? The idea that we’re all predestined for one person seems… sad.” The way you said it made Minghao’s heart clench in his chest.

Minghao had watched you carefully, fingers tightening around his cup. “Sad?”

“Well, yeah.” You glanced out the window, watching the rain smear the city into soft, indistinct colors. “It means you could love someone with everything you have, and if they aren’t ‘the one,’ it doesn’t count.”

But it does count, he had wanted to say. It counts for the one who loves, even if it’s not returned.

“I don’t know,” he had murmured instead, watching the way the light framed your face. “Some people don’t get a choice.”

You had hummed, considering. “I’d still rather choose.”

And Minghao—Minghao, whose timer had hit zero the moment he saw you—wanted, for the first time, to believe in choice too.

It didn’t stop at coffee.

You became a presence in his life, slipping in like a poem written in margins, like a song hummed under breath.

It was the bookstore, where you ran your fingers along spines like they held secrets meant only for you. Minghao had asked what you were looking for, and you had grinned, mischievous.

“Something tragic,” you had said. “Something that’ll ruin my week.”

Minghao had laughed, shaking his head. “Why do you want to be ruined?”

You had met his gaze, something unreadable in your eyes. “Because at least then I’d know it meant something.”

It was the late-night walks, where the world shrank to just the two of you, city lights flickering like fireflies in the distance. You had spoken about dreams, about places you wanted to see, about how the concept of forever never sat right with you.

“Nothing lasts,” you had said, kicking a stray pebble down the sidewalk.

Minghao had tilted his head toward the sky. “Maybe not everything is supposed to.”

You had smiled at that, a small, quiet thing. “See? Now that’s tragic.”

It was the mornings where you sat across from each other, the clink of ceramic cups filling the space between easy silences. It was the stolen moments where he caught you laughing at nothing, where you tilted your head against his shoulder when you were tired, where you let him trace shapes into your palm absentmindedly as you talked about anything and everything.

The next time, it was late at night, both of you lying on a rooftop under a sky thick with stars. The city pulsed below, neon lights flickering like distant fireflies. You had dragged him up here, claiming it was the best place to think.

And Minghao would follow you anywhere.

You turned your head to look at him. “You ever think about what you’d do if your timer hit zero at the wrong moment?”

Minghao stared up at the sky, at the endless black, at the constellations that had burned for thousands of years and still hadn’t figured out how to stay together.

“It’s not supposed to be wrong,” he said eventually.

You laughed, but it was a quiet, almost sad sound. “But what if it is?”

He turned to look at you, to the slight crease between your brows, to the weight behind your question.

He thought about telling you. About the way his timer had gone silent the moment he saw you, how his world had stilled in a way he hadn’t even realized was possible.

But then you rolled onto your side, elbow propped up, fingers tracing absent patterns against the rooftop.

“Love should be terrifying,” you murmured. “It should be something you have to fight for, something that could break you.” You glanced at him then, eyes gleaming in the dark. “Wouldn’t that be better than some numbers on a wrist?”

Minghao swallowed. “Maybe.”

You smiled, satisfied, and turned back to the sky.

Minghao turned back too.

And said nothing.

It was like this for months.

Conversations that drifted too close to the truth. Fingers brushing and lingering before pulling away. The quiet intimacy of something unspoken, something fragile, something too good to last.

Minghao knew he was losing you before you were even his to lose.

Because your timer kept ticking.

Because fate had not chosen him for you, even though it had chosen you for him.

Because love, when unreturned, still felt like love—but it also felt like drowning.

And someday soon, the clock would run out.

You said you didn’t believe in soulmates.

You said it with certainty, with fire in your eyes, with conviction carved into every syllable.

“That timer is just a cruel game the universe plays,” you told him once, voice steady, fingers curled around your own wrist like you wanted to crush the numbers beneath your grip. "Love isn’t about some stupid numbers on your skin. It’s about choosing someone."

And then you had looked at him—really looked at him—like he was something inevitable. Something certain.

"I choose you, Minghao."

Ab na Heer kade dil da yaqeen kar paayegi

How could he not believe in you when you said it like that?

Minghao had spent his whole life believing in fate.

Believing in the weight of the numbers, in the invisible thread that wove two people together across time and space. His timer had been a promise. A quiet, patient thing ticking down with purpose, with certainty.

Fate had called your name, but it had not whispered his.

And yet, here you were—standing in front of him, eyes searching, hands trembling slightly at your sides, offering him everything despite the ticking clock on your wrist. Despite the fact that your soulmate was still out there, waiting.

Minghao should have walked away. Should have been noble. Should have let you go before you could regret this, before you could realize that love, without fate behind it, could still crumble.

But he had spent months loving you in silence. He had spent months letting you fill the spaces between his ribs, settling into his bones like a song he could never forget.

So he stepped closer.

“You can’t take it back,” he murmured, barely above a whisper.

You frowned. “What?”

“If you choose me, you can’t take it back. Not when your timer runs out, not when—” his voice broke, but he forced himself to continue—“not when you meet them.”

Something in your expression shifted. The way the light flickered across your face, the way your breath hitched like you suddenly realized what you were doing.

But then your fingers reached for his, slow, deliberate.

“I don’t care,” you said, voice shaking but firm. “I don’t care about a timer, or some stranger I haven’t met. I care about you, Minghao. And I choose you.”

It was everything he had ever wanted.

It was everything he had feared.

Because love was never just a choice. Love was cruel. Love was fate and timing and inevitability. Love was a thief, and it stole from him the moment your words settled between them like a vow.

Because one day your timer would run out.

And when it did—when you met the person you were supposed to belong to—Minghao knew you would leave.

Not because you wanted to. But because some things were stronger than words. Because fate always won in the end.

So he exhaled shakily, pressed his forehead against yours, and closed his eyes.

“Okay,” he whispered.

If this was all he would ever have of you, then he would take it.

Even if it destroyed him.

For a year, Xu Minghao believed he had conned fate. 

He convinced himself that love could exist outside of destiny. That the universe had miscalculated, that your hand in his was proof that numbers meant nothing.

And for a year, you were his.

Judi hai rahein saari tujhse meri

Every road, every path, every turn—somehow, they all led back to you.

It was in the mornings when he woke up to find you tangled in the sheets, your breathing slow, the weight of your arm draped over his chest like a quiet claim. Minghao never moved right away. He just lay there, memorizing the shape of you against him, the way the early light painted soft gold across your skin.

It was in the afternoons, where laughter spilled between you like an unspoken promise. The two of you existed in a world of inside jokes, of coffee shop debates over which pastry was superior, of whispered conversations in libraries where you barely managed to keep your voices down. You stole fries off his plate, he stole sips of your drink, and every moment felt like something infinite.

It was in the nights, when time folded in on itself, and there was only you. Only your voice, a quiet murmur against his shoulder. Only your hands, threading through his, pulling him deeper into a love he shouldn’t have had.

A love that shouldn’t have lasted.

Because your timer was still ticking.

Some nights, when the world was too quiet, he would trace patterns over your wrist with featherlight fingers, his touch lingering just long enough to make you ache. You would see it then—that fleeting sadness, the way his eyes darkened as if trying to memorize the numbers before they could betray him. Before they could betray both of you.

And so you would do the only thing you knew how to. You would curl yourself around him, press your lips to the hinge of his jaw, to the soft curve beneath his ear. You would kiss him until he forgot about it, until he forgot about everything but the way your body molded against his, the way your hands tangled in his hair, the way you whispered his name like he was the only future you could ever want, like he was something worth staying for.

So he loved you recklessly, desperately, like a man who had borrowed time and dared to believe it was his own.

For a while, it worked.

For a while, he let himself believe that your love was louder than fate.

And then—

Then your timer hit zero.

The day your timer hit zero, Minghao was at your apartment, waiting. The scent of your favorite takeout filled the space, boxes neatly stacked on the counter. He had set the table the way you liked—your favorite glass, extra sauce on the side, a pair of chopsticks resting beside his own. A quiet offering of comfort, a piece of him saying I know today was hard, but I am here.

When he heard the sound of your keys turning in the lock, he turned toward the door, ready to greet you with warmth, with open arms.

But the moment you stepped inside, something was different.

Your smile faltered, just barely. Your breath caught, almost imperceptibly. Your fingers hovered at your wrist, pressing into the skin as if trying to hold something in place, as if trying to stop time from moving forward.

Minghao had always been good at reading between the lines. He didn’t need to ask.

“It happened, didn’t it?”

His voice was too calm. Too steady. A whisper against the quiet, like speaking too loudly would make the walls collapse around you both.

You swallowed, your throat tight. “At the café,” you admitted, barely above a whisper. “I wasn’t expecting it.”

The words cut through the air, sharp and irreversible. Minghao exhaled slowly, his gaze drifting to the untouched meal he had laid out for you, as if the smallest details of your shared life could somehow keep you tethered to him. As if love could be measured in cups of jasmine tea and takeout containers.

“Do you love them?”

The question came quietly, but it landed like a blow. You flinched, your fingers curling into fists. “Minghao, I love you.”

He smiled, soft and broken. A tragedy dressed as tenderness. “But you met them.”

Silence.

You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to. The truth sat between you, thick and heavy, an inevitable thing. Minghao felt his world shift, splintering like glass beneath too much weight.

He had always known this was coming.

He had spent a year looking at your wrist in the dead of night, feeling the pulse beneath his fingertips like a countdown to an ending he could not stop. He had spent a year memorizing you, loving you, hoping—God, hoping—that maybe you would never reach zero. That maybe love could defy mathematics.

That maybe, just maybe, you would choose him.

But here you were. And here he was. And fate had finally caught up.

You took a step toward him, hesitant. “Minghao, please—”

“Don’t,” he said, so gently it hurt.

Because he had promised himself he wouldn’t make this harder for you. Because he had sworn he would let you go with grace, no matter how much it tore him apart.

He forced a breath, blinking up at the ceiling, willing his voice to stay steady. “Did it feel like the universe sighing in relief?”

You let out a shaky breath. “Minghao—”

“It’s okay.” His hands clenched at his sides before slowly, deliberately, he let them go. “It’s okay,” he repeated, even though nothing about this was okay.

Because he had always known he was just borrowing time.

And then—

Your hand reached for his.

Not out of hesitation, not out of guilt, but with purpose. With conviction. And when he finally looked at you, your eyes were burning. Steady. Unwavering.

“No,” you said, and your voice was stronger than it had ever been. “It didn’t feel like relief. It felt like the end of the world.”

Minghao’s breath hitched.

“I met them,” you continued, stepping closer, pressing your palm against his chest, where his heart was unraveling. “And I felt it, that shift, that pull. But it wasn’t you.” Your voice wavered, but you held on, gripping his hands like a lifeline. “It wasn’t the person who knows how I take my coffee. It wasn’t the person who stays up with me on my worst nights, who makes me laugh when I think I’ve forgotten how.”

His fingers curled around yours, tentative, as if he was afraid to believe it.

You swallowed hard. “I know what fate says. I know what the universe wants. But I—” You exhaled shakily, eyes searching his, pleading for him to understand. To believe you. “I chose you, Minghao.” Your voice broke, but you kept going. “I choose you.”

You brought his hand to your lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles, to the hands that had held you through every storm. “And I will keep choosing you.”

Minghao didn’t realize he was crying until you reached up, brushing the tears from his cheeks with your thumbs. His chest ached, torn between disbelief and the quiet, unbearable hope blooming in its place.

For a year, he had believed he was running on borrowed time.

He so desperately wanted to believe that time had never mattered at all.

Tu bhi kya yaad rakhega

Minghao wished he could forget. Wished he could peel every memory of you from his skin, let them slip through his fingers like grains of sand, like something never meant to be held onto in the first place.

But he knew he wouldn’t.

He would remember.

He would remember the way your laughter curled into the spaces between his ribs, how your touch had been an anchor, how every late-night conversation had felt like stitching his soul to yours.

You had carved yourself into him, written your name into the marrow of his bones, and there was no undoing it. No rewinding, no erasing. Only this—only the ruin you left behind.

You were crying. He wished he could hate you for it, wished he could feel something other than this unbearable ache, but all he wanted was to hold you, to wipe your tears away, to tell you that it was okay even when it wasn’t.

You tried to explain. You needed him to understand.

“It doesn’t change anything,” you whispered, voice trembling, breaking over the weight of the moment. “Meeting them—it doesn’t make my love for you any less real. It’s just… it’s different. It’s not stronger. It’s not—” Your breath hitched. “It’s not fair.”

It wasn’t. It never had been.

Tears streaked down your cheeks, and you gripped his hands like you were afraid he would slip away, like you could hold him here, with you, if you just held on tight enough. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Minghao exhaled, slow, steady. He looked at you—really looked at you. The person he had loved in a way that defied reason, the person who had turned his life into something softer, something worth waking up to.

And yet, fate had taken that love and cracked it in half.

Judi hain raahein saari tujhse meri

"My paths are tied to yours."

You said it like it was a promise. But it felt like a wound.

Minghao pulled his hands from yours, gently, like he was untying a knot that had held for too long. Like if he did it softly enough, it wouldn’t hurt as much.

“You say that,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper, “but your wrist says otherwise.”

Your face crumpled, and something inside him shattered.

Because love wasn’t supposed to be a war against destiny. Because love wasn’t supposed to be a choice between what you wanted and what the universe had written for you.

But here you were. And here he was. And the universe was still waiting.

You left anyway.

Not right away. At first, you fought it. You fought it because you loved him, because you chose him—or at least that’s what you kept telling yourself. You tried to pretend, tried to act as though nothing had shifted beneath the surface.

But Minghao was always watching, always noticing, even in the moments you thought you’d hidden the truth. He saw the quiet distance between your fingertips when you reached for him. He saw the way your eyes would glaze over, distant and lost, as though you were somewhere else, with someone else. He saw how your voice cracked when you mentioned them—their name—like it was nothing.

It was a betrayal he didn’t know how to describe, but he felt it all the same. The way the rhythm of your heart had started to slip out of sync with his, like the song that once belonged to both of you was now missing its key notes.

Your laughter, which once felt like home, was no longer his.

You didn’t want to hurt him, not really, but you couldn’t ignore what had happened.

“Minghao,” you said one night, your voice trembling as it fell from your lips. "I don’t want to hurt you."

He didn't answer right away, but the silence between you was as loud as a thousand storms crashing together.

Sona tha tera ve jhootha

Your gold-dipped promises had been false, empty, but it didn’t matter because he still loved you.

"Go," he said, his voice steady, almost cold in the dim light of the room. His heart was a hurricane, but his words were a calm before the storm. "You’re already halfway out the door."

The words were a punch to his own chest. They weren’t born out of anger, but out of this quiet, painful truth. He could feel the space between the two of you growing wider with every passing second, and he couldn’t force you to stay when your heart wasn’t there anymore.

He didn’t want to let go. He couldn’t let go. But he already felt your absence creeping into the corners of his mind, into the small, delicate spaces where you had once existed as his everything.

You froze at the door, the silence between you thick with the weight of what had come to pass. You knew it, too. The finality in his voice, the way he saw through every excuse you tried to tell yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, choking on the words that burned in your throat, words that had no place in this story, not anymore. "I never meant for this to happen."

Minghao didn’t move. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t beg you to stay. He couldn’t be the one to break and shatter everything when you had already made your choice.

“Go,” he repeated, quieter this time, but somehow that made it even worse. The absence of anger, the quiet surrender to what was inevitable.

The door clicked shut behind you, and Minghao stood there for a long time, staring at the space you once occupied.

But in the hollow silence, he heard your heartbeat, still tangled with his, still beating somewhere, even if it was no longer in sync with his own.

Lakh samjhaun main taan, dil samajh nahi paata

He told himself it was for the best. That this was the only way. He couldn't hold onto someone who was meant for someone else, someone who had already found their place, their soulmate. He kept repeating it in his head, like a mantra, like it was a truth he could believe in. But even the strongest words felt weak against the tide of his emotions.

But his heart, that damn heart of his—it didn’t listen. It never listened.

He couldn’t make it stop. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how many times he told himself that this was what was right, what was logical, the truth always bled through—the truth of how much he still loved you. How much he always would.

And so he sat in the silence of his empty apartment, a place that used to feel like home, but now felt like a stranger’s house. The emptiness gnawed at him, not because of the space you’d left, but because of the parts of him that had vanished with you.

Rang do dinon mein chhoota

The color of your love faded faster than he could comprehend. The once-vibrant moments of tenderness between you two were now dull, drained, leaving behind only the cold ache of what could have been. What should have been. He could almost hear your laughter echoing in the silence, but it was distant, like a song on the wind that he could never quite reach.

How quickly it all fell apart. How quickly the thing he had fought for, the thing he had clung to with every part of himself, was slipping from his grasp, like sand through his fingers. His chest ached with it, a sharp, gnawing pain that refused to leave.

You were the one. He had known it. Fate had made that clear, even if fate had played some cruel game with him. How could something so perfect feel so incomplete now?

He didn’t hate you. He could never hate you. Not when you were the one his soul had always craved, the one he had always sought in his dreams, in his waking moments, in every fleeting thought.

But the bitterness lingered.

It lingered at the edges of his heart like a stain that wouldn’t wash away. He hated the universe for showing him something so beautiful only to rip it apart. He hated the fact that he had loved you so completely, only to be forced to let you go. He hated the feeling of emptiness that came with that love—empty but full of everything he would never get to have.

He sat there, in the dark, the silence louder than any words could ever be. He didn’t know when it would stop hurting. Maybe it never would.

Maybe he would just learn to live with the ache.

Years later, he saw you again.

It was at a bookstore, the kind where the scent of old paper clings to the air like nostalgia. Rain dripped from the edges of his umbrella, the soft patter against the pavement a soundtrack to his every step. He wasn’t expecting it. He wasn’t looking for you. Yet, there you were.

You were standing by the window, flipping through a novel, your face bathed in the soft glow of the lights above. You didn’t notice him at first, lost in the pages, your brow furrowed in concentration. But when you looked up and your eyes met his, everything inside him stopped.

His heart twisted.

“Minghao,” you said, your voice barely a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would break the moment.

“Hi,” he replied. His smile was practiced, but it didn’t reach his eyes. It was the kind of smile that lived in the places where pain and love collided, only to become something unrecognizable.

There was so much left unsaid between you two. So much more than the weight of those two syllables could carry. But you only said, “I still don’t believe in soulmates.”

He laughed. It was hollow, like an empty echo in a quiet room. “You don’t have to. The universe does.”

Har koi yaar nahi hunda, ve bulleya.

Not everyone gets to be a lover.

The words felt heavier in the space between you two, like a truth neither of you had ever really wanted to face.

He turned and walked away, the rhythm of his footsteps mixing with the rain's quiet murmur. He left you standing there, by the window, where light met shadow and memories lingered in the air.

The world felt smaller now, smaller than the spaces between your heartbeats.

Jaa, Raanjhan, Raanjhan, Raanjhan Go, Raanjhan. Go, the one I loved. Tu bhi kya yaad rakhega? What will you even remember? Jaa, Heer ne tainu chhod diya Go, for Heer has let you go.

tagging: @ottersmind @blvenote @kyeomsworld @cookiearmy @armycarat2612 @rjea @xylatox @flwrshwa

@christinewithluv @headlockimnida @letwiiparkjay @cherr-y-eji @codeinbelle @baguette-atiny @whoa-jo @noiceoofed @thestraybunny @smiileflower @gam3bo17

[gotta-winwin]

watching him fade away | yjh

⭐ starring: jeonghan

💌 genre: angst, a sprinkle of fluff

💬 preview: It’s been 497 days since Jeonghan had awoken, only to realize he was completely alone.

tw/cw: post apocalyptic, conscious AI!jeonghan, abstract character death, fluff, angst, wounds, based on the song: watching him fade away by mac deMarco

🪽fic rating: pg 🪽word count: 1.8k

☁️ masterlist & a/n: writing this has been quite the journey- and there is no better time to drop this than for the angst olympics! i gift this to @diamonddaze01 as a tentative (+loving) beginning to what i'm sure will be many angst fics to come. don't sue me for emotional damage xoxo

this is a part of the angst olympics -- support other authors here!

SYSTEMS LOADING ….

“How might you need my assistance?” His perfectly crafted eyes blinked open. “My name is J-E-O-N-G-H-A-N, your personal robot for everyday needs!” 

The bird blinked back at him, ruffling its feathers and slowly waddling away.

“Do you need assistance?” 

Silence. 

Jeonghan didn’t really know what to make of it. Had someone purchased him from his creators? Where were they? Why was he sitting, legs spread and back leaning against the wall, in the middle of a giant warehouse? 

“No assistance then.” The monotonous whirr of his system began clicking as he shut himself off once again. 

SYSTEMS REBOOTING …. 

It took Jeonghan approximately 4 days, 6 hours and 47 minutes to realize no one was coming for him. 

Taking his first steps outside, he allowed his scanning mechanisms to take in his surroundings: the splintering hole in the roof, the overgrown walls, the barren landscape. It took him another 6 minutes to realize he was utterly alone. 

And what was an assistant robot supposed to do with no one to assist? The question burned in his mind as his programming worked to figure it out. Who was he supposed to help? 

Cheep. 

Jeonghan looked down. A spotted brown bird had bumped into his foot, its beak lightly chipping away at the metal. He bent down to scoop it up, scanning its features. 

“Baby Wood Thrush.” He identified. “Do you need assistance?” 

And so it began, the unlikely bond between robot and nature. Jeonghan found his purpose in assisting the only living things around him, building shelter for the antelope, finding fresh water for the birds, fixing the warehouse roof for the owls to nest in. 

But Jeonghan quickly learned that the animals couldn’t speak, not in any language his programming could understand. It made Jeonghan feel incredibly lonely. 

SYSTEMS ON ….

Jeonghan had discovered his great affinity for the ocean in his second week as a newly repurposed robot. He couldn’t get too close – the first time he had run in head first, damaging his systems and taking days to repair – but he could sit by the many rocks along the shoreline, moving the crabs and turtles away from the tide. 

It made his chest ache as he trained his eyes on the horizon, wondering if there were people to help on the other side of the water. But maybe he was truly the only thing left of mankind, Jeonghan didn’t know. 

But he did know he was different now. Water had fallen from his eye sockets last night, when he had turned on to find that a windstorm from last night had knocked over the bird nests, taking with it countless eggs he had been nursing. He couldn’t understand how it had happened, but it had. Jeonghan felt weirdly alive. 

The multiple gadgets and cords that made up his physical state felt more like organs and veins, pumping blood through the vessel the creators had called JEONGHAN. Your friendly assistant robot for your everyday needs. But he was much more than that now. 

SYSTEMS IN CHAOS ….

A girl. 

Jeonghan’s mind short circuited as he walked back into the warehouse, arms ladened with fresh fruit and variously shaped sticks. 

“Who-” 

The girl turned to face him, and Jeonghan’s true purpose had never seemed so clear to him as it did now. He was meant to assist her. 

“Do you need assistance?” He asked like he was programmed to, his keen eyes scanning her body for injury. “You’re hungry.” He commented, spilling his armful of things onto the table and picking out the ripest apple, handing it to her. “Eat.”

She looked at him warily. 

“My name is J-E-O-N-G-H-A-N, your personal robot for everyday needs.” 

She took the apple. 

“My name is Y/N.” She introduced herself, and Jeonghan slotted her name into his database. “Have you seen other people pass through here?”

Jeonghan shook his head, instinctively passing her a second apple once she had finished the first. “It’s been 497 days since I became conscious. You’re the first human to pass through.” 

Her lips parted. “497 days.” She repeated. “It feels like it’s been decades.” 

Jeonghan opened his mouth to reply and promptly closed it. He had a million questions to ask her but he knew none of it was his place. It wasn’t his job to question — his job was to assist, to accompany, to take care of his employer. 

“You’re hurt.” He observed once more, noticing the large gash on her right leg. “Let me help you.”

Maybe it was the calming nature of his voice or his pretty face, but she sat down without protest and extended her leg towards him. 

His heart (or lack of one) warmed at the sudden show of trust — that despite the broken world they had found themselves in, there were still pockets of humanity waiting to be found. 

SYSTEMS UP ….

In the next couple days, Jeonghan learned what the word banter truly meant. 

The girl was fast with her wit, cheeky with her words and unforgiving with his heart. He was sure he had a heart now, for it beat thunderously and quickly for her. 

Love was the one thing never programmed into him but he sure knew it now.

“Careful.” He reached a hand out instinctively to steady her, holding her as she regained her balance. “The sunset isn’t going anywhere.” 

He followed behind her as they jumped across the lake, using the rocks as a step bridge. 

“Quickly, Hannie.” She called, waving at him to quicken his pace. “I want to catch it when it’s still pink and purple.” 

“Sunset is 9:00pm tonight.” He informed her, collecting the information from his database. “We have 8 minutes.” 

“Still.” Her smile lit up their surroundings better than any ball of fire could. 

Fuck the sun, he found himself thinking. She was the brightest thing in this barren land and he felt honored to bask in her rays of light. 

“Hannie, look.” She pointed a finger up at the sky once they reached the cliffside. “It’s beautiful.” 

Beautiful. Jeonghan hummed in agreement, silently scrolling through his system’s database to log in a new definition. 

Note: beautiful directly translates to love, the look on a person’s face during the last legs of daylight. Her hair, blowing gently in the wind. 

“How did you end up here?” She asked him, reaching out her hands to intertwine her fingers with his. 

His lips curved into a smile, a natural reaction he couldn’t suppress each time she looked at him with her brightly lit eyes. His nonexistent heart beat - badum, badum, badum - in tandem with the swings of their connected arms. 

Love was a defect, a sickness for a robot, but with her Jeonghan didn’t mind. He would override his code in order to love her as many times as he needed to.

SYSTEMS DOWN…

He could hear the sound of his depleting battery beeping over the gentle rise and fall of her breath. 

Beep. Beep. Beebeebee- 

He flips the warning sign off with a reluctant hand. Oh, how he longed to trade in his expensive metal wares for real flesh and blood. His superpowered technology was utterly useless when it came to obtaining the one thing Jeonghan found himself truly wanting – time. Time with her, with the sky, with the world he had found himself falling in love with. Falling in love with her. 

“Do you love me?” She had asked him one night, as he held her in the rocking chair he had made out of a wilted tree. 

“Of course.” He had replied, because the answer was as clear to him as a math question was. 

“But you’re a robot.” She moved slightly away from him to cup her hands around his face. “A very real looking, very handsome robot, but a robot all the same.” A gentle knock against his chest showed that it was hollow. Empty. Void of anything that could ever produce love. 

Jeonghan knew it didn’t make sense. “I don’t need a heart to know I love you.” He whispered, pressing her hand against his chest, on the area where his heart would’ve been if he were real. “I love you with my whole being, my whole existence. Not just my heart.” 

She smiled, and Jeonghan silently thanked the universe for destroying humanity because it allowed him to meet her. 

SYSTEMS STALLING…

“I’ll go out once the sun rises.” She was lacing up her boot, a defiant look on her face. “I’ll find a battery, a charging port– something. We’ve still got time.”

Jeonghan could only weakly nod from his spot on the wooden chair, his powerless legs limp and useless. 

He could feel himself rotting from within, his nonexistent lungs rattling with each airless breath he took. 

“My love.” He whispered, and she turned back around to face him, halfway out of the garage door. 

“Don’t worry, Hannie.” A brave smile formed across her face, and god, did he love her for that. “I’ll find a way to keep you here with me.”

He nodded and watched her leave. 

Yet Jeonghan could feel it in his systems, the way parts of him were slowly shutting down as all the energy went to conserve his database. His brain. Everything that made him him. 

He was rotting. 

He was fading away.

SYSTEMS FAILING…

Jeonghan knew that the end was near. Sitting propped up against the brick wall of the warehouse, he clutched her hand in his limp ones, eyes roaming her face, lips parted in an attempt to comfort her. 

He was weakening and both of them knew it. 

“We can find the battery you need.” She brought up the idea again, something he had already told her was impossible. “You can’t leave me.” 

He wanted to tell her he didn’t want to leave her. Not like this. Not ever. He had a hundred thousand things to tell her. 

Yet Jeonghan couldn’t speak. 

“You can’t leave me.” She repeated, her eyes plainly showing the hurt she felt at his silence. “You can’t.” Tears tracked down her pretty face. 

Jeonghan closed his eyes. 

“No.” She protested, a warm hand reaching up to touch his cold cheek. “Open your eyes. Look at me.”

Jeonghan kept his eyes shut. 

“Look at me, goddamnit!” She yelled, shaking him. Her voice raised and broke. “Jeonghan, please.” 

He couldn’t. Jeonghan didn’t know when he had learned the art of selfishness, but somewhere along the way of loving her, he had become entirely selfish. He couldn’t bear the idea of her crying face being the last thing his database would ever recall seeing. 

God, he was selfish. For he wanted the happy version of her all to himself. 

“Please.” She begged again, her voice weaker this time around. “Look at me. Don’t leave me.”

His lips parted silently, releasing a breath that wasn’t his to breathe. 

“Please.” 

Beep. Beep. Bee-

. . .

SYSTEMS REBOOTING…

“How might you need my assistance?” His perfectly crafted eyes blinked open. “My name is J-E-O-N-G-H-A-N, your personal robot for everyday needs!” 

“Jeonghan?”

A girl stepped into his line of vision, her eyes rubbed raw from crying. 

“Do you need assistance?” 

Silence. 

“Jeonghan? It’s me.” The girl’s voice broke, and he couldn’t figure out why. 

“I’m sorry,” He stood up, scanning her face and entering her into his database. “What is your name?”