Note: wishing her the best in her recovery fr. Popping the disc is damn painful TT
A bit short and more melodramatic this time.
The apartment felt…too quiet. Too still.
For a moment, you wish the hum of the refrigerator or the faint ticking of the wall clock could drown out the silence hanging between you and Chaeyeon.
She sits across from you on the worn gray couch, her hands clasped tightly in her lap as if she's holding herself together. Her eyes are on the coffee table—avoiding you. The small, shaking breaths she takes tell you that this isn't going to end well.
“Chaeyeon-ah” you murmur, breaking the silence.
Her shoulders flinch. Slowly, she lifts her gaze to meet yours, and it stings. It stings because you know that look—the one where her brown eyes lose their sparkle, turning dull like they’re bracing for impact.
“I think… I think we should break up,” she whispers.
The words come out so softly, so hesitantly, it takes your brain a second to catch up.
Break up?
“W-What?” Your voice comes out hoarse, barely audible.
Chaeyeon squeezes her hands tighter, her knuckles turning white. “We’ve talked about this before. IZ*ONE… It's done. The group’s gone, and I—I need to focus on my solo career. I can’t… I can’t do that and keep this going.”
“This?” The word tastes bitter on your tongue. You stare at her, searching her face for any sign that she’s joking—that this is some cruel prank. “Chaeyeon-ah, we’ve been together for years. You can’t just—”
“I have to.” Her voice cracks. You see the tears brimming in her eyes, but she doesn’t let them fall. She looks away again, blinking rapidly. “It’s not fair to you. I’ll be too busy to give you what you deserve.”
You let out a humourless laugh, though there’s no smile to accompany it. “So you’re deciding this for me? Like I wouldn’t understand? Like I wouldn’t choose to support you?”
“It’s not about understanding,” she snaps suddenly, and the sharpness surprises you both. Her chest rises and falls as she struggles to keep her emotions in check. “I need to do this alone. I have to. I need to prove myself, and I can’t keep being distracted—”
“I’m a distraction?” you interrupt, your voice trembling.
Her lips press into a thin line. She doesn’t answer.
The silence is unbearable now, heavier than before. You swallow the lump in your throat and run a hand through your hair, trying to process the mess of emotions twisting inside you—hurt, anger, confusion. You want to yell, to fight back, to say something that will make her change her mind. But when you look at her—Chaeyeon, sitting there with her tear-streaked face and trembling hands—you can’t.
You exhale shakily, leaning back against the couch. “So that’s it?”
She nods, barely. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t say that,” you mutter bitterly. “Don’t apologize if you’re the one walking away.”
Chaeyeon flinches again, and for a split second, you see it—regret. But she buries it quickly, biting her lower lip as she stands.
You don’t stop her when she walks toward the door. You don’t beg her to stay, even though every part of you wants to.
Her hand pauses on the doorknob, and she turns to look at you one last time. “Take care of yourself, please.”
And then she’s gone, leaving you alone in the apartment that now feels far too big, too empty—like something important has been ripped away.
The tears come before you can stop them, silent and steady as they trail down your cheeks.
So this is how it ends.
-
The cacophony of bustling production crews, whirring cameras, and chatter from staff surrounded you. It was just another day as a cameraman for Music Bank. You adjusted your headset and checked the focus on your lens, scanning the glossy stage set before the next performance.
"Alright, position four, get a wide-angle for the intro shot," your director’s voice crackled in your earpiece.
You nodded absently, though your attention was piqued when you noticed the name on the lineup for the day: Lee Chaeyeon.
You squinted at the monitor displaying her pre-recorded teaser clip. The name tickled something in your brain, but you couldn’t place it. She was a rising soloist, right? Her name had floated around in industry circles for a while, though you never connected the dots.
Moments later, the lights dimmed, signaling the beginning of her stage. You fixed your camera on the center of the stage, watching as the outline of her figure materialized behind the foggy haze. The soft melody of the intro cued the LEDs to paint the stage in hues of blue and white, bathing her in an ethereal glow.
When she turned to face the camera, your breath hitched.
It wasn’t just her. It was her.
You gripped the camera a little tighter, your fingers stiff. It was Lee Chaeyeon, your ex—the same Lee Chaeyeon who once laughed at your dumb jokes, held your hand like it was her lifeline, and left you in the aftermath of IZ*ONE's disbandment.
“Position four, stay steady!” The director’s voice cut through your sudden daze. You snapped back to reality, your professional instincts overpowering the storm of emotions clawing their way back.
Chaeyeon moved with the fluidity you always admired, her steps precise and her expressions sharp. Her choreography hit with a precision that sent the crowd into cheers, but all you could see was the subtle difference in her now. She was more confident, bolder than she had been years ago. The Chaeyeon you knew had always been a perfectionist, but there was something about her presence now that felt untouchable.
"Close-up, position four," your director ordered.
With a steady hand, you focused on her face, and for a fleeting second, her gaze locked with the lens—locked with you.
Your heart thudded. Did she recognize you?
The performance ended in a flourish of lights and thunderous applause. Chaeyeon bowed deeply, her smile dazzling the crowd as she caught her breath. You followed her with the camera as she exited the stage, the angle catching her wiping a bead of sweat from her temple. Your chest tightened as you remembered how you used to hold her face gently, brushing strands of hair away after rehearsals.
Focus, Y/n. It’s just another artist. Just another gig.
And yet—you can’t stop staring.
-
The show was on a break, giving you time to reorganize equipment and check over footage. Your hands moved methodically, but your mind remained miles away. Seeing her like that—so poised, so untouchable—made your chest ache in ways you thought you’d buried.
A voice brought you back to reality.
“Excuse me, is this where I can check the camera playback?”
You turned and froze. Chaeyeon stood there, her outfit changed into something more casual but equally stunning. She looked at you with a polite curiosity, her hands clasped nervously.
Your throat tightened as you scrambled for a response. “Y-Yeah, uh, over here.”
She approached, her eyes scanning your face. It was as if she was trying to place you, too.
“Thanks.” She leaned in to look at the monitor, her proximity flooding you with an all-too-familiar warmth.
You cleared your throat. “Great work out there.”
She glanced at you, her lips curving into a soft smile. “Thanks. It’s always nerve-wracking, even after all these years.”
There it was—that same vulnerability she’d let you see behind closed doors.
As she reviewed the playback, you couldn’t help but speak again. “You’ve come a long way since... IZ*ONE.” The name slipped out before you could stop yourself.
Her fingers paused over the monitor. Slowly, she turned to face you, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied you. Then, recognition dawned.
“…Y/n?”
Your heart sank, and you let out a shaky laugh, rubbing the back of your neck. “Hey…It’s me.”
Chaeyeon’s expression flickered between surprise and something unreadable. “I didn’t think…” she started, then stopped. “It’s been so long.”
“Yeah.”
-
The silence that followed was heavy.
You ended up sitting together in a quiet corner of the backstage area, away from the chaos of staff and idols rushing about. The small table between you felt more like a chasm, holding years of unspoken words, lingering questions, and emotions you thought had been buried. Chaeyeon sat with her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her eyes flickering between you and the floor, like she was weighing every word before she spoke.
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” she started, her voice quieter now. “Last I heard, you were working in… film?”
You shrugged, keeping your tone neutral. “Things changed. Just like you, I guess.”
She nodded slowly, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Yeah. A lot has changed.”
For a moment, silence fell between you. It wasn’t the comfortable silence you used to share, sitting side by side in cafes while you worked on your laptop and she doodled choreography in her notebook. This was heavier, filled with years of distance and the things you were both too afraid to say.
Chaeyeon looked up at you suddenly, her eyes sharp yet vulnerable. “How..um…have you been?”
You hesitated. The question sounded innocent, but there was something in her tone—something almost desperate, like she needed to know the answer more than you did.
“I’ve been… okay,” you said, the words feeling both honest and insufficient. “Busy with work, trying to keep up with life, you know how it is.”
She nodded again, her gaze dropping to her hands. “I’ve thought about you. A lot.”
The words caught you off guard, and your chest tightened. You hadn’t expected her to be so direct, not after all this time.
“Have you?” you asked, your voice quieter than you intended.
Chaeyeon let out a small, bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Of course I have. Do you think I could just forget about you?”
The vulnerability in her voice made your throat tighten. “I don’t know, Chaeyeon-ah. You left so easily. It felt like I didn’t even matter...”
Her head snapped up, her eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears. “It wasn’t easy,” she said, her voice trembling. “It was never easy.”
You leaned back slightly, stunned by the raw emotion in her voice. “Then why did you do it? Why didn’t you at least try to talk to me?”
She exhaled shakily, running a hand through her hair. “I was…scared. Scared of failing, scared of holding you back, scared of ruining everything we had. When IZ*ONE ended, I felt like I was starting over from nothing. I didn’t know who I was without the group, and I didn’t want you to see me like that. You deserved someone who had their life together, not someone who was falling apart.”
Her words hit you like a punch to the gut. For so long, you had convinced yourself that she had left because you weren’t enough. Hearing her now, seeing the way her hands trembled as she spoke, made you realize how wrong you’d been.
“I never wanted perfection, Chaeyeon-ah,” you said softly. “I just wanted you.”
Her breath hitched, and she looked at you with an expression so full of regret and longing that it made your heart ache.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I’m so sorry. For everything.”
You stared at her, the raw honesty in her words stirring something deep within you. For years, you had carried the weight of your heartbreak, blaming yourself for not being enough. But now, sitting across from her, you realized that she had been carrying her own burden all along.
“I missed you,” you admitted quietly, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “I tried to move on, but… I couldn’t.”
Chaeyeon reached out hesitantly, her fingers brushing against yours. The touch was light, tentative, as if she was afraid you might pull away. When you didn’t, she let her hand rest on top of yours, her warmth grounding you in the moment.
“I don’t know if it’s too late,” she said, her voice trembling. “But I want to try. Even if it’s just as friends, I want you in my life again.”
You looked down at her hand, the memories of your past rushing back all at once—the late-night phone calls, the quiet moments of comfort, the way she used to look at you like you were her whole world.
Slowly, you turned your hand over, letting your fingers intertwine with hers.
“It’s not too late,” you said, your voice steady. “But…let’s not start as strangers pretending to be friends. Let’s start as two people who still care about each other and see where it goes, you know?”
Her eyes widened slightly, and then she smiled—a real, genuine smile that lit up her face in a way you hadn’t seen in years.
“Mhm..” she said softly. “Let’s start there.”
For the first time in a long time, the weight on your chest began to lift. The past might still linger, but the future felt a little brighter with her hand in yours.
Essa foi uma tentativa de novo estilo, espero que gostem e caso dê certo, vou continuar fazendo! Caso usem, deem os devidos créditos, e não roube absolutamente NADA!
