GENRE: established relationship, secret dating, fluff, idol x reader, idol au, romance, drama, comfort.
WARNINGS: secret relationship, y/n used, soft launch, concert setting, not proof read(most likely typos n stuff)
SYNOPSIS: Being the secret girlfriend of CORTIS's maknae means barely being able to interact with him while he’s working. But Keonho is completely done with the distance. Right before the final ment of the night, he decides to completely throw out the rules and call you out by name.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: hehehe.. I barely have anything Keonho. im so sleep, this proly got TONS of typos. This is also another oneshot based on like uh, their tour! enjoy my lil bacon bites! 😻
DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Characters are based on public personas only. Nothing here reflects real-life relationships or behavior. Please do not repost, translate, or copy my work to other platforms. Reblogs & comments are appreciated but never required!.
P.S: is anyone going to see them on tour? im not :c but who is, n where!?
MASTERLIST | taglist
Standing in the dim, cramped space of the backstge wings, you had a perfect viee of the stage. The stadium was full of livesticks, so many thst yoh swear you might have a seizure.
thousands of fans screaming their names as the final notes of REDRED echoed through the stadium.
Keonho looked beautiful. But he also looked exhausted. The heavy makeup couldn't entirely hide the slight fatigue in his shoulders from the tour schedule.
Because of the company’s strict rules, you hadn't been able to properly hold his hand or talk to him without managers hovering for three days. You felt more like a ghost than his girlfriend.
As the members gathered at the center stage for their final seeches, Keonho took a sip of water, his eyes casually drifting toward the area you were sitting in.
For a split second, his gaze locked right onto you. You offered him a small, encouraging smile and a gentle wave, hoping to give him a bit of energy. Keonho’s expression softened instantly, his eyes crinkling at the corners into that sweet, familiar warmth he only ever showed you behind closed doors.
When it was his turn to speak, he lifted his microphone. The crowd roared.
"Today was so incredible, CO-ER’s," Keonho said, his voice echoing clearly. He spoke about the music, the tour, and how thankful he was.
But right before he wrapped up, he took a deep breath, turning his body slightly so he was facing the backstage wings where you sat.
"Actually, there's someone really special sitting backstage right now," he said softly, a bright, completely unbothered smile breaking across his face. He didn't care about the staff frantically waving their hands at him from behind the cameras.
"Y/N-ah. Thank you for coming tonight, and thank you for always being my biggest support. I couldn't do any of this without you."
The entire stadium eruted into screams. Half the fans were melting over how sweet he was, while the other half were scrambling to figure out who he was talking about, and a couple were prolly jealous.
Your breath completely caught in your throat, your hands flying up to cover your mouth as your heart hammered against your ribs.
ur jaw practically hit the floor.
He had actually just used your real name on a live microphone in front of millions of people.
Right on cue, Keonho lowered his mic, giving you a proud, playful little wink through the shadows before turning back to the crowd. He couldn't hold your hand on that stage, but he had just made sure everyone in that arena knew exactly who held his heart, he also kinda cooked his career. but it was honestly worth it!
GENRE: idol x fan au, fluff, heavy teasing, a lil suggestive
WARNINGS: mentions of concert environment, eye contact, phone stealing, physical proximity, sweat, heavy teasing, flustered reactions, trembling, nervousness, screaming.
SYNOPSIS: Standing at the VIP barricade of the CORTIS tour, your only goal is to survive the heat. But when James catches sight of your teasing sign during soundcheck, he decides to call you out for it.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: okay so james stans.. brace yourselves lmao. i wanted to write something because I’m excited about their tour. This is lowk dedicated to their first ever one lol. hope u guys like this one!
DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Characters are based on public personas only. Nothing here reflects real-life relationships or behavior. Please do not repost, translate, or copy my work to other platforms. Reblogs & comments are appreciated but never required!.
P.S: anything in parentheses is js me yapping in the story, cs i think im all that 🥹🤞🏽 | this is from my drafts lol, js tryna post smth without leaving you guys empty handed again..
MASTERLIST | taglist
As the music faded into a casual talking break, James started pacing the edge of the extended stage, wiping sweat from his forehead with a small towel. His eyes scanned the sea of signs in the front row. That’s when he stopped. Right in front of your section.
You froze, your fingers trembling slightly around the edges of your cardboard picket sign. It didn't have the usual "I love you" or "Marry me" written on it. Instead, you had used bold marker to write: "i only bought front row to see if the 'main dancer' can actually dance."
James blinked, leaning forward with his hands on his knees to read it clearly. A slow, dangerous smirk crept onto his lips. He lowered his microphone, looking directly into your eyes, and shook his head with a silent, teasing laugh that said, Oh, you think you're funny? (ur not cs I am 🤣🫵🏽)
Before you could breathe, he walked straight down the stairs of the catwalk, coming right up to your specific section of the barricade. The fans around you began to scream blood murder. James knelt down, his face mere inches from yours, the scent of his expensive cologne completely cutting through the humid air.
Without breaking eye contact, he reached out his hand, silently demanding your phone.
With shaking fingers, you unlocked it and handed it over. James took it, turning the camera around to face the two of you.
He didn't just take a quick video, he held the phone up, gave the camera a
wink, and then leaned in close to your ear, using the stage mic so his deep voice boomed through the entire arena:.
"Of course i can dance," he murmured, his eyes locking back onto yours as he handed the phone back to your trembling hands. "Watch closely during the encore, okay?"
smau . fashionista!reader x chaotic!keonho blackcat!reader x orangecat!keonho strangers to lovers crack angst
synopsis . you were popular on twitter for your outfits and being used as inspiration for many people, friends, and even brands. yet when a random boy follows you, getting traction for his visuals on twitter, you get intrigued. but didn't know he was a pretty chaotic dude with chaotic friends.
important — yn is portrayed as giselle in the story !!!
Zhao Yufan is deeply in love with you. There are two problems with this: A, you have no idea, and B, you probably don’t feel the same way, considering the fact you keep asking him to be your fake boyfriend for… free stuff.
best friend!james x fem!reader. 3k words. fake dating. friends to lovers. crack. fluff.
notes: fanzai (凡仔 If You Care) is just a generic cutesy nickname for yufan. Your dream ring has diamonds in it for plot reasons Sorry if it doesn’t apply to you. Theyre spiritually lab grown ok. eva says i need to put serious emphasis on the fact that this is a crackfic. please suspend your disbelief when you read this. everyone is a little insane. EDIT I ACCIDENTALLY POSTED THIS EARLY UM 😑😑😑
There is a reservation for two at luxury, Michelin-starred restaurant Bergamot for 7pm. There is only one person at the reservation for two at luxury, Michelin-starred restaurant Bergamot by 8:30pm.
It's you. And you're dressed to the nines, a wave of flowing silk straight off some magazine cover, and apathetically staring into the distance. A platter of barely touched cheese and cured meats sits in between you and your currently non-existent guest.
He should be here anytime soon. Maybe about-
“Babe, I'm so sorry,” Yufan shouts from the doorway, sickeningly handsome in a navy suit and tie, hair artfully dishevelled like he's run across half a block for you, or maybe even like another woman has pulled manicured fingers through it in a stroke of heated passion, “I forgot about tonight!”
“Oh my god, James,” you scream, throwing your silver cutlery to the side in an awful clatter, “you can't do anything. Anything! Not only did you forget our anniversary, but now you've forgotten my birthday? What kind of a boyfriend even are you?”
“I was busy with work,” Yufan wails back, “and you know that! When we started dating, I told you so many times-”
“Work?! You never said anything about work! You said I'd always come first. And now you're putting- putting- Tiffany at HR in front of me? Don't think I missed the way you looked at her. I knew I couldn't trust you, you lying piece of-”
“Miss,” the restaurant’s sacrifice for the day – this poor young waiter – stutters, interrupting you mid-rant, “could you please keep it down? Our other patrons are-”
The entire restaurant is staring openly at you now. You barrel onwards uncaringly, stomping up to a frozen Yufan and gripping his full Windsor knot furiously. “And not even a gift? Not even a bouquet? Not even a single flower? Were you just expecting me to pay for everything? I can't believe-”
“Miss,” the waiter says more desperately. “Please. Would you like to choose something on the menu? We'd be more than happy to make it for you now.”
“Now?” you spit out in a tone that suggests a great grievance with this notion. “If I have to spend one more minute in this repugnant creature’s presence, I'll-”
“Would having it to go suit you better?” interjects the waiter as a last resort, looking like he's going to burst into tears and quit the gastronomical industry.
A long, terrible beat passes.
“To go,” you repeat slowly, releasing your hold on Yufan, savouring these words of victory on your tongue. “Hm. Tell me more.”
—
Free food is the best food. Free food from rich, fancy, billionaire-owned establishments is even better.
“Nice work,” you tell Yufan, munching away on some perfectly sautéed broccolini. You've discarded your feet-killing stilettos somewhere near the front door, changed into pajamas, and stripped your full face of makeup. “Looked the part too.”
“I do look pretty good in formal,” Yufan agrees, still in his pressed suit, as he reaches over for the bread, “but you did all the work. I just showed up like an idiot.”
“I mean, that was the whole point,” you say in between bites of tarte tatin. “Fanzai, if you ever do this for real to anyone, I'm personally killing you.”
Yufan lets out a hyena-like laugh. “You won't need to worry about that.”
You two continue to enjoy your spoils of war to the background of some pirated Marvel movie, because secretly, food with Yufan is the best food of all time, and it's not even close.
—
Yufan has made many bad decisions in his life before. The first one he remembers was back when he was 8 and he accidentally lost his DS with his nearly completed play through of Pokemon Diamond. Many tears were shed. Another one was when he bit into a really spicy chili and he couldn't taste anything for the rest of the day. Many tears were also shed, mainly because he thought he’d permanently lost his sense of taste.
But by far, the worst decision he’s ever made is agreeing to fake date his best friend who he’s kind of maybe secretly in love with for… freebies. He’d shed tears, but every time you even briefly acknowledge his existence, he’s mentally giggling like he’s besotted, which he is, so he supposes it checks out. The main issue, though, is the fact that this is actively preventing him from making a proper move. Even seeing your phones next to each other on the table is distracting him. One day, he’ll do it-
Next to him, you’re downing the rest of the still water you managed to extort from the restaurant. Maybe the day is today. Okay. This is his chance!
“We should make a pact to get married by 36,” he casually (he hopes that it sounds casual, anyway) says.
“Why?” you ask slowly, which isn’t a very good sign, but then you continue. “Oh, lower tax…. you make a point… but realistically by then, you would've found your future spouse.”
There is no way you, the subject of his secret desires of parenting a dog with – he’s been thinking about rescuing a greyhound recently, because he watched a documentary about greyhound racing and got sad – just told him that. “Maybe even earlier. You never know.”
“Zhao Yufan, are you hiding secrets from me?” Yes. I like you. Wait, no, I love you. “Have you found the love of your life and not told me?” Yes. She’s talking to me right now. “As your best friend” – okay, you did not need to actively acknowledge that – “I'm deeply hurt.”
But first, he has to address this grievous violation of convention. “Zhao Yufan? Who's that?”
You huff out angrily. Yufan has to suppress very severe cuteness aggression. “Fanzai, then. I didn’t realise it was so serious.”
“Of course it’s serious,” he tells you, biting back a grin.
“Do you know what’s even more serious?” you say. “You proposing to me tomorrow. I think we’ll get a gift box or something at Cartier.”
The ring box burning a hole through his closet has probably just started a house fire. “Propose? The stakes are getting higher,” he says instead of acknowledging the fact he doesn’t need to go looking for some faux ring.
“Don't worry,” you shrug, getting up to clear away the takeaway containers. “You know it's for show, anyway.”
Because that’s all it probably is to you – a show. Yufan blinks thrice, fighting the way his eyes are burning, and silently goes to find a cloth to wipe down your table with. It doesn’t work, but you don’t notice, and that’s good enough for him.
—
You have made many bad decisions in your life before. Asking your best friend that you’re in love with to fake date you has to be up there. To be fair, though, you have no idea how to breach a conversation admitting anything, and you completely doubt he even likes you like that, so you’ll take whatever you can get. Even if it means he thinks you’re a total cheapskate. Even if it means public humiliation. On a Saturday morning. At Cartier.
Yufan’s already standing off to the side, wearing a breezy linen shirt and beige chinos. It’s deeply evocative of an emotionally unavailable expat who most definitely has a side chick but is rich enough for you to politely pretend nothing is going on – that is, exactly what you envisioned in your mind. You look down. He’s even got loafers on. God.
“Hi,” you tell him. “The plan is we go in, I ask to look at the earrings, I’ll say something like can I get it, and then you’re like of course but then stand up and monologue. Got it?”
“Got it,” Yufan says, and you pass him your rip off Louis Vuitton clutch, which coincidentally is a perfect match for his outfit, to carry. As you two approach the front door, Yufan whips his phone out and pulls up some stock market app. You nod approvingly. Appropriately detached.
“Welcome to Cartier,” a sales assistant says, hair pulled into a slick bun. “Are you looking for anything in particular today?”
“Yes,” you sweetly say. “I’m looking to get a new pair of earrings. Something that’ll turn heads, preferably.”
“Of course,” sales assistant Mia, according to her name tag, says. “What sort of metal do you prefer? White gold, yellow gold, rose gold, silver…?”
You tell her the option that looks the worst on you. Mia grimaces a bit because she most definitely knows it too, but leads you over to a display, adjacent to another couple parsing through the gaudiest jewellery arrangement. Whatever. You take a seat and boredly scan through the options.
The far right one is atrocious. It’s perfect. It’s the one.
“Pumpkinboo,” you simper to Yufan, who’s still faithfully glued to his ichimoku clouds, “can you pretty please get me these earrings?”
“Of course,” he says, before tossing his phone aside and standing up dramatically. It’s showtime. “But first… my love, my pookie bear, my sunshine gumdrop Hermes Birkin, I must tell you something. From the day I met you when you were in high school, scrubbing the floors of my fourth multi-million holiday home, I knew you were the one for me.
“Even through the ups and downs, even though you caught me sleeping with my second cousin once removed and set my 1 of 1 Bugatti on fire, your devotion and commitment to our love has truly inspired me. You’re the only woman who has consistently stood beside me. I can’t wait until you quit your job so you’re entirely financially dependent on me and spend all day in my double locked penthouse where you just act as the second pot plant in foyer 3. Will you do the great honour of marrying me?”
You gasp. Then hold your hand demurely over your mouth. Then start bursting into very fake, very overwrought tears. “Oh my god!” You accidentally poke yourself in the eye, so the tears are now actually real. “Of course I will, sugarplum honeybun sweetkins!”
Yufan gets a look in his eye that says he’s come up with something genuinely diabolical, before dramatically sweeping you into his chest. “I’m so glad you agreed, because now you’ll take the news that I burnt your passport so you can never leave better!”
Your sales assistant doesn’t even look fazed by whatever just unfolded, instead emotionlessly congratulating you and walking away – presumably for the promised free goods. This does not say positive things about their usual clientele. You’re surprised by how she hadn’t caught onto the fact that Yufan still hasn’t pulled out the ring yet, since you’re kind of just hanging out in his arms, head firmly against some thick gold chain.
“The ring,” you hiss out under your breath, and Yufan immediately fumbles for this velvet ring box. Sure. Then he opens it.
And why the hell is it literally your dream ring? No. Your Dream Ring, with capitals for emphasis. What the hell. You stifle your surprise by letting out this awful little giggle so insufferable that Yufan can’t suppress a highly judgemental side eye. He still puts the ring on. You’re ill. You’re so ill. How did he know?
It’s probably fake though. No, it’s definitely fake. If this is real- no, you can’t think of that possibility.
“Um,” this grating voice cuts in. “Excuse me?”
You and Yufan whip your heads in sync to face the speaker. It’s the couple from earlier. What does she want with you?
“You literally ruined my moment!” she screams. “I was going to get proposed to. I was going to have the romantic speech. I was going to say yes and smooch my man!”
Her man in question looks like he’s… looking at a trading portfolio. People like this genuinely, unironically exist? God. Someone give Mia a raise now.
Clearly you’ve spent too much time being shocked and staring at her, because this girl continues screaming like she’s being paid for it. “It’s all your fault! Your ugly ring’s fake anyway!”
You suppose she isn’t wrong about the fake part, but-
“Butler!” she shrilly declares. She has a butler? Are you joking? You exchange baffled looks with Yufan. “Bring out the diamond tester!”
As if on cue, this tired middle-aged guy emerges, producing a case. In it, this drill looking thing. Oh shit. You scramble up and frantically stare down Yufan, but he gives you this deliberately placid look. It’ll be fine. Yeah, well. It’ll be fine once you get yourselves kicked out for being frauds!
The butler apologetically comes over and sticks his little device into your ring. You close your eyes fatalistically. Yep. It was nice knowing everyone. It was worth being fake proposed to. At least you got to lay in Yufan’s arms for a while. Then you open your eyes, also fatalistically, because you’ve decided that you want to witness your death.
But instead of turning red, the tester lights up green. Positive for a diamond.
You stare at your ring. Then you stare at Yufan, who is deliberately avoiding eye contact. Then you stare at the butler, who has immediately made himself scarce. Then you stare at the boyfriend, who is still on his phone. Then you stare at the other girl, whose mouth is wide open in shock. Consider her your spirit animal!
As if sensing the incredibly joyous and excited mood, Mia decides now is a good time to come back, holding two Cartier branded bags. She takes in the entire situation and makes a very firm decision to kick you and Yufan out of the store. Thank you Mia. You didn’t even get a chance to say anything, but at least you got your freebies!
And at least now you have the opportunity to interrogate Yufan, cornering him off to the side of the footpath and next to this flower stand. “So why is this” – you gesture vaguely at your ring – “REAL?”
“Uh,” Yufan intelligently says. “Um. Well. Er.”
You give him a minute. “Yep. Go on. Any time now.”
“I mean. But like. What if you hate me,” Yufan continues.
Yeah, he doesn’t deserve a proper response to that. Instead, you just emotionlessly stare at him. Why would you do that?
Yufan gets the memo. “Okay. I…”
Silence.
“You…” you prompt.
“I…” he says.
“You…” you prompt. Again.
Yufan sighs as if he’s giving up. “I literally can’t tell-”
“Hey guys,” someone interrupts cheerfully, delaying Yufan from your wrath. “What's up?”
You look up. It’s Ahn Keonho, one of Yufan’s best friends, sunnily smiling and toting grocery bags in both hands. You’re about to respond, when he makes a noise that sounds uncannily like a fire alarm shrieking out for a new battery, before dropping his groceries and pointing at the ring on your finger.
“HOLY SHIT?” he screeches. “James! I never thought you'd actually do it! Congratulations!”
Now why did he say that like he was expecting it to happen? No way he actually thinks you and Yufan-
“Yep. I knew you two were dating,” Keonho excitedly carries on. “Seonghyeon owes me 50000 won now. Thanks for making it super obvious that you like each other!”
Suddenly finding his voice, Yufan yells out in horror. “DON’T LISTEN TO HIM.”
Keonho offendedly matches his volume. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN ‘DON’T LISTEN TO ME’. DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH WHINING WE HAD TO GO THROUGH. ‘GUYS SHE’S SO PRETTY TODA-’”
“SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!!!!!!!” Yufan yelps, covering his own ears but still stalking up to Keonho, a la lion hunting gazelle.
Damn. Ignoring the half of your brain screaming “HE LIKES ME?” and the adrenaline-enhanced pounding of your heart, you slowly approach the duo, feeling a little like the waiter you were yelling at the other day. “Ladies. This is a public environment.”
Yufan immediately backs down. “I'm sorry.”
“Dibs being a groomsman, by the way,” Keonho acquiesces, but probably only because Yufan just surrendered. Goal achieved (chaos caused), he picks up his groceries again and heads off whistling, except he can't whistle, so it's more like aggressive blowing. It sounds suspiciously like Careless Whisper. Never mind, it absolutely is Careless Whisper.
“So,” you say to Yufan once Keonho has disappeared into the crowd.
“So,” he says, “I'm. Kind of maybe secretly in love with you?”
“So,” you say. “It’s your lucky day. I am too.”
“Cool,” he says, looking not very cool. “Wanna. Wanna go out?”
“I thought we just got engaged,” you say, half joking, except Yufan flicks through about fifteen different expressions of shock and joy and excitement and more shock, and okay, it's not a joke anymore.
“That works too,” he eventually says once his facial expressions have calmed down.
“Great,” you say. “Can’t wait to get married.”
“Oh, did you two just get engaged?” the florist next to you asks, who's clearly only been paying attention to the tail end of your conversation. “Congratulations!”
“Thank you,” you say as they pull together an elaborate display of flowers for you two. This is so bizarre. Getting freebies legitimately now. Who would’ve known this would’ve ever happened? Next to you, Yufan still looks like he’s processing the fact that he’s just jumped the best friends stage to the intending to be married stage. His dimples are showing from trying not to smile.
“You're both very lucky.” The florist hands you this huge bouquet, and you look to Yufan for his response.
“Yeah,” he replies this time, intertwining your fingers with his, warm and grounding. “The luckiest.”
You've made many bad decisions in your life before. Showing up to Cartier and accidentally angering a real-life kids movie villain definitely counts, but for whatever it’s worth – loving Zhao Yufan is not one of them. The free stuff is just an added bonus.
SYNOPSIS ໒꒱⋆.˚ Travelling back home, you meet your first love face to face. The same house, the same boy, but a lot has changed since the last time.
𖤓˚࿔ ────୨ৎ──── Genre :: angst (kinda), bittersweet, both in established relationships, light skinship, closure
PAIRING :: first-love!Seonghyeon x gn!reader (you got a male partner tho)
WARNINGS :: none
word count: 1.4k
#1 #epilogue
Author's note :: SECOND TIME POSTING THIS cus it was bugging the first time (dont let this flop pls) i cant apparently let go of this story so i wrote a whole epilogue 🤧 this will make more sense if you read this first. i hope you guys enjoy because i really like this 'miniseries'. also i promise there are no more romantic strings between them so everything is purely platonic skinship we dont condone cheating around here. comment any thoughts (˙𐃷˙)
“You’re home!” Cheers erupt as you walk through the doorway. You’re immediately tackled by your mom and dad, who pull you so tightly into their chest, sprinkling kisses all over your face. It’s been a while since you stepped foot in this house, the house you grew up in. From the outside, the paint coating is noticeably more weathered, the roof tiles more mossy, and the bushes much more overgrown, but on the inside, still warm and inviting as when you left.
Your parents thought that it would be a great idea to invite your aunties, uncles, cousins, extended family, and family friends over as a big homecoming celebration for you. So there you are, standing in the doorway with them wrapped around you. Silent sniffles can be heard around you as you begin to give everyone hugs and greetings.
Afraid the feast your parents have prepared for you will go cold, they quickly usher you towards the dining room, insisting you can unpack your suitcase later. You squeeze past the horde of people, admiring the old wallpaper you missed so much and chuckling at the embarrassing pre-school photos your mum still had up. However, amidst the chaos, your heart begins to beat louder than usual. Your eyes instinctively wander in search of another.
Set neatly across the table are plates loaded with your favourite dish; oh, the smell - it was all you wished for in the last few years you were gone. Flourishing lilies sit delicately at the ends of the table, causing you to gasp. They were, and still are, your favourite.
“Oh my goodness. You really didn’t have to.” You swiftly throw your arms around your parents once again before going to admire the flowers beaming at you.
“It wasn’t my idea.” Your mother whispers into your ear before signalling you to look somewhere. Lifting your head slightly, your gaze met with one very familiar to your heart and soul. Seonghyeon. He looks different. His hair is dyed a light brown. His clothes, much more put together than his usual sweats. Yet, the same eyes and smile you fell in love with. A shy smile can’t help but appear across your face before you walk over to where he is standing. Like habit, your bodies melt into a warm embrace, your forehead resting on his shoulder as he brings a hand to cradle the back of your head.
“Thank you.” You murmur as he tightens the hug.
“I want you guys to meet Jacob.” You announce as you pull away from Seonghyeon’s arms. Standing close by, Jacob gives a gentle smile before waving. Not long after, Jacob’s arms are stretched across your shoulders as you slide your arm around his waist.
“My fiancé.” You timidly declare, holding up your hand to show off a dainty gold ring decorated with a diamond. Once again, cheering breaks out in your cramped dining room as everyone congratulates you on this new milestone. As your gaze settles on Seonghyeon, he lights up with a bright smile. True happiness illuminates behind his eyes. He pulls you in for another affectionate hug before letting you go to celebrate with your lover.
As conversations dwindle to small talk, you notice a girl, a face you’ve never seen before, approach Seonghyeon, which causes his face to soften. Leaning against the wall, he places a steady hand on her waist before whispering something that leads her to look your way. You tap Jacob on the shoulder, signalling to him that you’ll be back before making your way towards the pair.
“Seoyun, meet Y/N. Y/N, this is Seoyun. She’s my girlfriend.” Seonghyeon’s eyes sparkle as he speaks her name. The girl flashes you a friendly smile as you open your arms to hug her.
“I’ve heard a lot about you, Y/N.”
“I’m sorry.” You scratch the back of your head before pulling a concerned look that causes both of them to laugh. Seoyun assures you that she has no bad blood towards you and even affirms that she is excited to finally put a face to a name.
“I’ll give you guys some space to talk.” Seoyun gives Seonghyeon’s arm a quick squeeze before entering into conversation with your aunty and mother.
You and Seonghyeon make your way out to the back porch and onto the squeaky swinging chair you both would lie at and stare at the moon together.
“You didn’t keep your promise,” Seonghyeon utters before leaning full back into the sunken cushion
“What?”
“Remember that you would still love me when you came back.”
“Shut up, Seonghyeon; you’re not innocent either.” You give his shoulder a playful smack before settling down yourself, but this time, not into his arms like before. Instead, you sit shoulder to shoulder.
Before you could say anything else, Seonghyeon bursts into laughter.
“What you laughing at?”
“Remember when we fell asleep here and somehow you ended up halfway down the steps and I was in the house in the morning?”
“Oh, my god. You unlocked a part of my brain I forgot I had.”
“And then we were itching for the next two weeks because of the mosquito bites.”
Your head tilts backwards as you also break into laughter. You slap your knee a couple of times because the imagery just makes you cackle. As the giggles subside, you two just sit in the same peaceful silence that usually took over.
“He makes you happy?”
“Yeah, very. Does she?”
“Of course.”
Then the silence begins to envelope again. For a moment, you both sit there, looking at whatever inhabited your backyard. The rose bush in your garden is fully blossomed now.
“I still love you, you know. Well, obviously not romantically, but I still have a lot of love for you.” Seonghyeon states before rambling to make sure his message doesn’t come off the wrong way.
“Yeah yeah, I know. Me too, Seonghyeon.” You turn to look at him, closely examining his facial features that have matured with time. He was no longer the teenage boy you knew. But he was still the same person you hold dearly in your heart, albeit in a different place.
“So, what have I missed?” Seonghyeon inquires. Like a fire to a fuse, this question sets you both off, allowing you to spout random stories gathered from your years apart. You reminisce about old memories shared, laugh at funny moments, celebrate each other’s accomplishments, cry about the hurdles life threw at you, and most importantly, soak in the nostalgia that underscores your conversation.
It is like nothing had changed at all. However, a part of your chest aches, not painfully or joyfully, just in a neutral manner. The person you grew up with now has grown without you. You too have changed so much as a person, but it is clear you both are so deeply ingrained in each other’s being.
After 30 minutes, you find yourself with your back propped against his shoulder, with his arm hanging over yours. The smell of his cologne, remaining the same despite the passage of time, fills your senses, making your chest warm.
“I missed this, Y/N.”
“Nostalgia is gonna kill me.”
“What a sentimental person.”
“Shut up; you were just crying with me.”
Seonghyeon scoffs quickly as he rests his head onto yours.
“GODDAMNIT! THE FOOD IS COLD.” Your mother’s voice bellows out of the kitchen. The pure distress in her tone causes you two to suddenly break into laughter. Consumed by conversation and the need to catch up, everyone had forgotten about the perfectly displayed feast on the table.
“Come on, let’s go have some food before your mum burns the house down.”
“Yep. Good idea.” Before you get up from your seated position, you feel Seonghyeon plant one last soft peck on the crown of your head. This time, it wasn't fuelled by yearning or by childish love, but a mature appreciation for the person that shaped him into what he is today.
You both make your way back inside. You reunite with Jacob, meeting your lips with his as his arm slithers around your waist. On the opposite side of the table, Seonghyeon brings Seoyun closer to his side, giving a peck to her cheek.
“Oh, my god. Get a room, you four. My appetite is actively shrinking.” Your aunty exclaims to the party as she dramatically rolls her eyes. Peals of laughter resound in the atmosphere as people settle into their seats, stomachs teeming with hunger and eyes wide in anticipation.
You and Seonghyeon lock eyes. You both crack a smile at each other, fully basking in the joy and ardour. Perhaps the ghostly presence of you two still remains, the same love still lingering in the air, but now with new clarity. Perhaps letting go was your true last act of love, to fully relax your body and surrender to the currents of time
OMG HIII I LOVE YOUR WRITING!! can i request an imagine with any of the cortis members where the reader has been overworking herself during exam season and hasn't been taking care of herself and gets sick and hides it from him, and he notices and takes care of her with loads of fluff and hurt/comfort PLS THANK YOUUUU
Burning Out
❧ଓ Martin Edwards Park x 𝗳𝗲𝗺!reader
𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: You thought you could survive exam season on your own, but Martin has other plans when he discovers just how much you've been hiding yourself from him.
angst with fluff?
⊱ 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 ⊰
𝑯𝒊𝒊 𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏!!! 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒖𝒖𝒖 𝒔𝒐 𝒎𝒖𝒄𝒉𝒉𝒉!!
𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅!! 𝑬𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚 ♡♥︎
The first thing Martin noticed was your texts.
Your messages you had normally sent him were all over the place in the best way possible.
Blurry pictures of things you found pretty that you swear looked better in person and extremely long voice notes that were just you complaining about one of your grumpy teachers. And yet again more pictures of coffee with the caption saying how you swear it's your last cup for the day. (It never was)
He noticed how it changed to short and not the usual silly texts:
"Studying."
"Busy."
"Sorry, I'll text later."
"I'm fine."
To him it started feeling like every conversation he had with you came to an end before it even started.
He kept trying to convince himself to not overthink your words or read too much into it. He knew how important your exam season was for you, he also knew how big of an impact it had one you.
He remembered how you had warned him a few days before your exams, "If I disappear for a bit, don't take it personally. I'll probably be drowning in notes."
He had that usual gentle grin on his expression as he said, "Then I'll come rescue you."
"Please don't. I actually need to pass."
So he respected your choice and gave you the needed space you wanted, though he kept sending you little reminder texts. Reminders like:
"Don't forget to eat."
"Get some sleep tonight, okay?"
"Drink some water."
You replied to the texts with a simple, "I will!", but sometimes you only reacted with a heart. Whether you actually listened to his sweet reminders was another story he didn't know.
During the exam season, your daily routine had become very questionable. You had coffee early in the morning as soon as you woke up, coffee in the afternoon and when you finally remembered you were hungry, you only ate instant noodles.
You barely slept. It had become optional, ranging from four to one hour. Sometimes you barely even slept more than 30 minutes.
When your first headache came, you choose to simply just ignore it. Then your throat started to itch and slight dizziness started form each time you stood.
You kept repeating to yourself that you just needed to push for a few more days and you'll be able to rest all you want after exams.
After more than one weeks apart he finally saw you again. He decided to surprise you by stopping by after one of your exams.
His smile faded almost immediately as you opened your apartment door and his eyes landed on you. He noticed how you tried your best to keep your smile high, but he could see the tiredness in your eyes as you mumbled, "...Hey."
Your sweater hung loosely off your shoulder, your hair up in the messiest bun imaginable and there was noticeable dark circles under your eyes that your light makeup couldn't hide.
You could see the concern on his expression, "You look exhausted."
You let out the smallest laugh he's ever heard from you, "I've just been studying."
"I can tell." He mumbled as he slowly reached up and brushed a few single loose strands of hair from your pretty face.
As he brushed the strands away, his fingers slightly touched your forehead, making his frown grow bigger, "...You're so warm."
"I'm okay." You immediately sighed, your voice was a little shaky as you talked.
"You've got a fever." He protested, the concern in his voice growing by the second.
"It's probably nothing." He quickly rested the back of his hand against your forehead just to make sure.
It was most definitely not nothing and he knew you were downplaying your condition, "How long have you felt like this?"
He could hear the hesitation in your voice, "...A day or two."
He sighed as he stepped inside your apartment, he looked around and noticed how your textbooks were on almost every surface.
Sticky notes plastered across the coffee table with a few empty coffee cups and energy drinks. He also saw how the curtains were still closed even though it was almost 5pm. His eyes traveled back to yours, "When did you last eat something that wasn't instant noodles?"
You blinked up at his question, slightly taken aback, "...I don't remember."
His heart ached at your answer, it hurt him more than he thought it would.
He sighed and made his way to your kitchen, hoping to find something for you to eat.
Your fridge was almost completely empty, only being filled with a half full carton of milk and some yogurt that was definitely expired.
There wasn't really anything else in there. He let out the smallest sigh before closing the fridge door, "You've really been running yourself into the ground."
"I've just been busy." You tried your best to hide the yawn that followed but failed.
"I know." His voice stayed gently, "...I know, baby, but being busy... doesn't mean you stop taking care of yourself."
You tried to clear your throat, only for it to turn into one massive coughing fit and you instinctively turned your back on him, trying to hide it from him. It didn't work and as the coughing finally stopped, you slightly started swaying on your feet, your dizziness returning with a new force.
Martin, without thinking, reached for you, steadying you on your feet before you could further lose your balance.
"I've got you." He softly whispered, the concern not leaving his tone anytime soon.
"I'm fine." You said trying to convince yourself more than trying to convince him.
"You almost fell over." He tried to reason with you, "I stood up too fast."
The look he gave you was enough evidence that he wasn't buying your excuses, not for one single second, "I think you need to rest."
"I still have another exam." You whined out in slight anger, but not at him. You didn't even know at what your were angry at.
"And you'll do better on it if you're actually functioning." Martin tried his best to convince you, desperation forming in his tone.
You let out a sigh and rubbed your eyes, "I can't afford to fall behind, Martin"
"I know." He he said as he took a few steps closer to you, "But you also can't keep pushing yourself like this."
There was something in his voice, he was so calm and patient. It started to make the wall you'd been building up crack into tiny little pieces.
"I just..." You swallowed, "I feel like if I stop now, I'm wasting time."
"Rest isn't wasted time."
Your eyes stung a little at his words, "I've worked so hard."
"I know you have." He answered almost immediately.
"What if it still isn't enough?" He heard the little choke in your voice.
He didn't rush to give you a respond, he just simply pulled you into a tight hug, his arms wrapped around your waist.
You almost instantly melted against his chest, a slight hum leaving your lips.
Martin caressed your hair softly as he murmured, "I don't expect you to be perfect," he pulled away to look at you, "And the people who care about you don't either."
Before you could stop them, your tears started flowing down your cheeks, slightly making a mess of Martin's shirt.
The stress that was caused by weeks of preparing, the sleepless nights and the pressure you've been secretly carrying on your own had finally caught up with. And the worst part is that it all came at once. Martin knew he couldn't take all your problems away, though he wished he could, so he just simply held you tightly against his chest. One of his hands slowly rubbed circles on your lower back until he noticed as your breathing finally started to settle again.
As you eventually pulled away you, you slightly sniffed and quietly laughed at yourself, "Sorry."
"What for?" He asked confused, his own laugh slipping through.
"You've barely seen me in almost two weeks." You sighed with a slight pout forming.
In response he gave you his charming, sweet smile, "I figured exam season had kidnapped you."
" I'm sorry..." You whispered out again softly.
Martin sighed, "You don't have to apologize for struggling."
You looked down at your hands, your fingers slightly picking at each other, "I should've told you I wasn't feeling well."
He softly bumped your shoulder with his, "You probably should've." He gave you another gentle smile, "But we'll work on that next time."
After a few minutes, your legs felt unsteady again and before you could protest against him, he slipped an arm around your waist, "Come on."
"I can walk." You quietly whispered, a slight giggle leaving you.
"I know." He paused at your reaction before continuing, "But humour me?"
You slightly rolled your eyes with a tiny smile forming, "...Fine."
Martin gently settled you into your bed, adjusting the blankets around you and opened the curtains just enough to let some light in. He also opened one of your windows for some fresh air before whispering, "I'll be right back."
About thirty minutes passed when you woke up to the smell of your favorite soup filling the apartment.
He must have went shopping for some of the ingredients.
You sleepily wandered into the kitchen to see Martin stirring a pot with his sleeves rolled up and quietly humming to himself.
He smiled as he saw your sleepy figure making your way towards him, "There you are!"
"I was checking if I dreamed you." You laughed a little as you hugged him from behind.
He let out a little chuckle as he felt your hands wrap around his waist, "Nope. Still here, baby."
After you had taken some of the medicine he brought you, you took a seat on the couch since of the big mess on all the other tables. But you did notice how the mess wasn't that big anymore.
Martin sat beside you with a warm bowl of soup he balanced on his hands, "Here."
"I can manage." You giggled a little, the sound brining a big smile to Martin.
"I know." He said with a fake stern tone but held out the spoon full of soup anyway, "...But you look like you could use a break."
You finally gave in with a tiny smile, "Just this once."
He grinned like a idiot, "I'll take it."
That night, your fever got worse as you woke up coughing. Your body shivering despite being covered with 2 fluffy and tick blankets.
Martin was already awake next to you before you could even have called to him.
"Hey." His voice was soft as he handed you a class of water.
He waited for you to catch your breath before swapping the now-warm cloth on your forehead for a new cool one.
"You should be asleep," you mumbled, your voice slightly raspy.
"So should you." He said with a smile tugging on his lips.
"...Fair point." You mumbled, laying back onto the bed, a smile forming on your lips, before you started slightly coughing again.
"You know," he said quietly after a while, "you scared me a little."
"I'm sorry." You avoided his eyes, feeling guilty about not asking him for help earlier.
"I don't need an apology." He reached over to you, brushing your hair back.
"I just need you to let me help before it gets this bad." He said quietly, his own voice getting slightly small.
You quickly nodded, "I'll try."
He gently smiled down at you, "That's all I'm asking, baby."
You fell asleep with your head resting on his shoulder.
He didn't move an inch, absentmindlessly he brushed your hair away from your eyes every so often as the lose strands of hair fell down. He checked your temperature now and then just to reassure himself that you're doing better.
He glanced back down at you and smiled to himself and quietly whispered, "You've done enough for today,"
"So just rest."
And for the first time in a few weeks, you actually did, even though your exams were far from over, but right now you didn't care.
˚⟡˖ ࣪ YOU'RE ALWAYS GONNA BE SOMEONE THAT I WANT ::
────୨ৎ──── Eom Seonghyeon (Oneshot)
SYNOPSIS ໒꒱⋆.˚ You're moving away from not only your hometown but also a boy you've spent the majority of your life with. What are you guys exactly? A question left unanswered as you spend one last night with him.
𖤓˚࿔ ────୨ৎ──── Genre :: angst, friends with benefits (sfw), lack of closure, lack of commitment, bittersweet
PAIRING :: childhood-bestfriend!Seonghyeon x gn!reader
author's note :: i got big writers block for hsp martin so decided to do a little side quest this is what i imagine when i listen to spring into summer. the song is genuinely so good and so heartwrenching yall dont understand. i tried to make this sentimental and sad but idk if i did so let me know ( ;´ - `;)✌️ ₊⊹⁀➴ masterlist
“What were we?”
“Cliché.”
“Seonghyeon, don’t do this right now.”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what we were, Y/N,” he answers quietly. His fingers are tightly intertwined with yours. Your head is delicately rested on his shoulder. You two are overlooking the city at your secret spot, a secluded place up in the mountains; the faint lights blur into a mosaic.
“I just know I’ll miss this,” Seonghyeon whispers before squeezing your hand a little harder. Enough for you to notice.
“Me too.”
“Promise me to text me often, okay?”
“Yes, I know. This is the 10th time you’ve said this, by the way.”
“I know. I just don’t want you to forget.”
A soft scoff escapes you. You can’t blame him for not knowing what you guys were, because you don’t have an answer either. In the grand scheme of things, Seonghyeon is your “friend with benefits”, but in your heart, you know, and maybe he does too, that you both have something deeper. Something three simple words can’t describe.
The way you look at each other. The lingering touches. The secret kisses. The countless nights spent together under the stars. All of these easily fall into the “relationship” category, but you both never made it there. Why? You never knew either.
Maybe you were scared of ruining what you guys had. Maybe he was afraid of the unknown, venturing into a state of your connection never explored before. Maybe you were both scared of losing each other.
The worst thing is, you’ll never get to know, as you’re moving to a different country, far, far away from the boy you considered home. Are the 13 years together not strong enough to keep you here? You don’t know. All you know is that tomorrow, there is a flight booked for you. A flight that will take you to a whole different world where you know no one.
“What do you think we could’ve been?” Seonghyeon breaks the silence with a not-so-simple question.
“Maybe married.” Your response elicits a small laugh from Seonghyeon, who now has his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him to feel more of your warmth.
“Funny.” And he is right. Funny. You both know you want this. Want to finally let your hearts love the other fully with no constraint. To yell at the top of your lungs that you are exclusively each other’s. To lose sight of the other but know that you belong to one another.
Silence, once again, grows, enveloping both of you in its arms. It isn’t awkward; however, just peaceful. The leaves trickle as a gentle breeze brushes through them. Illuminating the sky are stars, winking as they observe the Earth.
“It’s getting late; your flight is early tomorrow.” Seongyeon begins to shift slowly, releasing his arm from you. You turn to look at him only to be greeted by his face, already staring at you. He is right; it is late, and your flight is very early tomorrow, but you don’t want to move. Your heart starts to feel heavy; your breathing shallows as tears start to well up in the corner of your eyes.
Without a second thought, Seonghyeon brings you closer and plants a soft kiss on your forehead. His lips tenderly trail down your face before reaching your lips, with your face cupped in his hands. There is no point in faking now, so you let the tears flow freely. His thumb lightly brushes them away as his eyes intensely study the features on your face. With the taste of him still lingering, you lean in again, wrapping your arms around his neck. You can feel his hands travel down to your waist as he melts into you, deepening the kiss.
It is moments like this where you both feel the bravest, like you can finally say the words that you’ve been holding onto for too long. Still, they are never said.
As you pull away, you can see that, now, Seonghyeon’s eyes are also red and glistening from fallen tears. Neither of you move. Your fingers draw light circles on the back of his neck while his hands are held firmly on your side.
“Why do you have to leave, Y/N?”
“Seonghyeon.”
“Y/N, you know that I love you, right?” Those three words, spoken so casually by him. Cliché if ever said by anyone else, but in his voice, it hits you deeper than you could’ve ever expected. A deep pit starts to form in your stomach; a sickening feeling emanates through your heart.
“You never told me that. Why are you making it so hard for me?”
“Because. I don’t want to lose you.”
“You’re not.”
“Yes. Yes, I am.” His voice is hoarse from the desperation as you watch him swallow hard. Tears threaten to fall, causing him to turn his head away before you see them.
“Come on, let’s get you home.” Before the conversation can go any further, Seonghyeon gently grabs your arms and pulls you up from the bench. You can hear, faintly, a small crack forming in his voice, a tremble you can only hear if you are listening for it.
Before getting in the car, you look back, admiring the secret place of yours for the last time. It holds many memories, memories you will hold close to your heart as comfort for the new chapter of your life. You are sure the trees and bushes will remember the laughter, the cries, the conversations, and the quiet glances you both shared. Yet, as the sun will rise tomorrow as it does every morning, the place will remain untouched, not grazed by the presence of you two.
The car is silent, with only the soft hum of Seonghyeon’s voice to whatever is playing on the radio and the wind bellowing through your window filling up the void. Halfway down the mountain, a brilliant idea pops into your head.
“One last karaoke session?” you say as you reach for your phone, connecting it to the car’s Bluetooth system.
“How can I say no?” Seonghyeon briefly takes his eyes off the road to look at you, exchanging a cheeky smile that has now stretched across his face.
So for the next 20 minutes, you queue up songs from your “yelling car ride” playlist with a healthy mix of Adele, Hozier, Bruno Mars, One Direction and Ariana Grande. You both scream at the top of your lungs, filling the car up with horrendous harmonies and high notes that would get you both booed off the stage in an instant. You completely roll the windows down and proceed to stick your upper half out, waving your hands over your head as the wind aggressively blows your hair around. With one hand on the wheel and the other gripping onto yours, Seonghyeon chuckles at the sight of you singing your heart out to the world. A sense of bittersweetness starts to manifest inside.
Pulling into your street, “Spring into Summer” by Lizzy McAlpine starts to play. This causes you to groan and shrink into your seat. This song is your weakness; the soft guitar strums just bring out feelings you try to smother.
“Eughhhhh. This song always plays at the worst times.”
“You can’t remove it from your playlist though.”
“Yeah, reminds me of you,” you say silently before tightening the hoodie around your face.
A shaky sigh escapes your lips as Seonghyeon pulls into your driveway. Turning off the car, you both sit there in silence, soaking up the last minutes you have together.
“You know, I love you too.” Your sudden confession disrupts the stillness. Your cheek is now resting against the seat, your gaze landing on Seonghyeon. The corners of his mouth pull themselves up while he tilts his head to meet your eyes.
“I hope you still do the next time we see each other.”
“I will. You?” you answer with conviction, as you know he will always occupy a space in your heart.
“I will too. Pinky promise.” Your pinkies hook together as he brings your hand to his lips, leaving a quick peck on the back of your hand.
“Don’t be late tomorrow.”
“Yes, boss. 6 AM. I’ll see you there.”
You are kind of lying to yourself when you feel like this was the last time you’d see each other because, in reality, Seonghyeon is sending you off tomorrow with your family.
“Goodnight, Seonghyeon.”
“Goodnight, Y/N.” Leaning against the side of his car, Seonghyeon pulls you in for a tight hug. The warmth of his body emanates as you are pressed against each other. With no space left in between, he continues to squeeze your body closer, as if this isn't enough contact for him. You burrow your face into the nape of his neck, taking one last smell of his cologne, sweet and not too overpowering. This feeling - it feels so right, like you were born for this sole reason.
“Get home safe.”
“Yeah yeah, got it.” He signals you to go inside the house before blowing you a kiss.
As you slam the door shut, that bittersweet feeling that was fostering instead completely transforms into intense anguish, causing you to burst into tears. Hurriedly, you make your way to your room, crashing onto the bed and dampening the cries with your pillow to prevent waking up your parents. It hurt. A lot. More than you want to admit.
Sleep hits you like a wave, engulfing your helpless body and sending you deep into the realm of REM. Maybe it was because of the exhaustion from your crying, or your body’s way of helping you escape the depression you were falling into.
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚
SEONGHYEON POV:
His eyes slowly flicker. The warm sunlight casts itself onto the wall covered in random posters. The birds are singing their usual tune as a groan slithered through Seonghyeon’s teeth.
Shit.
Shit.
Shit. Shit. Fuck. Shit.
Seonghyeon pounces into an upright position while frantically searching for his phone beneath his white duvet. As the screen lights up, the time it displays causes his eyes to widen in horror.
6:00 AM. The time that he is supposed to arrive at the airport to send off Y/N. The airport is 40 minutes away, and Y/N is leaving promptly at 6:30. Shit. Amidst the severe heartache that consumed him last night, Seonghyeon must’ve forgotten to set an alarm. Shit.
In a panicked state, Seonghyeon throws on a hoodie conveniently hanging from his chair, splashes his face with water, and brushes his teeth for a time that would make a dentist disappointed. Guilt begins to gnaw at his brain, hammering in a sense of impending doom deep into the fissures of his heart. Tears flow onto his cheeks as he rushes around the house, attempting to find his keys with a fogged vision.
How can he be so stupid? The thought of you leaving, the thought of an unfinished goodbye, the thought of him failing you overtakes his senses as uncontrollable sobs pound out of his chest. He is never one to cry, but now, he can do nothing to stop it.
Revving up the car, Seonghyeon haphazardly speeds down his street, his knuckles whitened from gripping the steering wheel. Dodging in between cars and running a few red lights, Seonghyeon has somehow managed to cut down a 20-minute car ride to roughly 10. All the tickets that can be given to a driver are most likely racking up on his record, but that’s the last thing on his mind. All he can see, blurred against the foreground, is you.
Passing the threshold between the city and the airport area, cars begin to pile on the roads, lines stretching further than the eye can see. Seonghyeon, growing more impatient as the seconds tick by, has slowed to a near standing pace, his car trekking ever so slowly along the underground tunnel leading to the car park. He can physically hear his heartbeat thumping in his ears.
Goddamnit.
Glancing at his car’s clock before darting his vision back onto the road in front, Seonghyeon impulsively turns on his turn signal. Gaining a few beeps from the other cars waiting in the traffic line, he makes his way to the emergency lane. Irresponsible, he knows. But if he has to pay a hefty fine, let it be because at least he gets to see you for the last time.
Seonghyeon is now frantically making his way to the exit on his own two legs, abandoning his car in the process. His breathing is winded, with every gasp of air clawing at the insides of his throat. His mind is scrambled; he isn’t thinking straight anymore. His mouth is dry. His lungs are heaving, desperately trying to alleviate the burning in his legs. His heartbeat, irregular. His arms are pathetically flailing to keep his body from crashing onto the ground. He can’t stop. He can’t look back. All he can do is to keep going forward.
Sunlight crashes onto his body as he exits the underground passage. The entry to the airport is now in his line of vision. He weaves himself through the clouds of people huddling around. They seem unfazed by his presence, all entranced in their own conversations. Some laughing, some crying, and some in complete silence. Yet, these outside vibrations soothe themselves into a distant hum as Seonghyeon slips through the door. This place is like a maze; the simple vastness of the area is enough to instill a deep sense of dread in Seonghyeon.
6:27 AM.
He doesn’t know where you are. Maybe you are already headed into the terminal. Maybe you are waiting for him right now, right as he is standing in the middle of a current of people, helpless. His eyes are hopelessly scanning through the lines of people, trying to spot you against the backdrop of thousands of others. He attempts to move around; maybe gaining new angles will help him locate you better. Any way, anything. Seonghyeon’s shoulders recklessly shove against other people’s as he murmurs polite apologies. The abyss in his heart has now fully consumed him from the inside out; he feels like he will throw up at any moment. Nervously, his hands rub together as if fidgeting with his fingers will dampen the pain that radiates from within.
Then, as if the universe has taken pity on him, his eyes land on a figure wearing a bright red scarf. The scarf eerily similar to the one he gifted you on your birthday. His body begins to gravitate towards this mysterious person; does he know for sure that this is you? Of course not, but his mind can’t rationalise any thoughts right now, so he moves with instinct.
“Y/N!” Seonghyeon manages to squeak out your name, pushing through the lump forming in his throat.
“Y/N!” No response. No heads turned. Nothing.
“Y/N!” With nothing left to his name, Seonghyeon continues to shout your name while internally begging for this person to turn around, to answer his calls, to be you.
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚
Y/N POV:
You have been waiting since 5:55 AM, luggage tightly wrapped around your fingers and your mother rubbing circles on your back. As 6:25 AM rolls around, you finally accept the sinking feeling that has been festering in your heart. He isn’t coming.
“Darling. I’m sure he’ll just give you a call later.” But that’s not what you want, what you need. You need to see him for the last time, to hear him for the last time, to feel him for the last time. To engrave the way he made you feel as his warmth seeped against your skin in your brain. To truly savour his breath for the last time. To etch the way his eyes stare into yours, the way his eyes soften every time they land on you. Your heart, it yearns so much it physically hurts.
“Okay, love you, Mom and Dad.” You share one last hug as you attempt to ground yourself in the moment. You give a weak wave before heading into the terminal, past the line of no visitors. Tears are now carving down your cheek, pooling themselves on your chin before you wipe them away with your scarf. The scarf Seonghyeon gifted you last year. It still smells like him, as he insisted on drenching it in his cologne every time you wore it.
“Y/N!” Then you hear it. Your mind is playing cruel tricks on you.
“Y/N!” Again. It happens again.
After the third time, you turn your head around to catch a glimpse of him. Seonghyeon. Standing, hair roughed up, face stained with tears, and an expression of sorrow unseen.
The moment you both make eye contact, something inside of you two breaks. A final acceptance of your separation. A final mourning of a person who is still alive. The sun, still awakening from its slumber, casts its golden rays against Seonghyeon. It veils itself so perfectly on the curves and valleys of his face.
Memories begin to rush back like an old videotape. You can hear his laughter, your laughter, his voice, your voice. The way his fingertips brushed against your cheek when tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest as he sleeps with his arms wrapped around you. The habit of him fiddling with his hands when he gets nervous. The soft sunsets both witnessed by you, huddled together atop the hill, in your secret place. All these memories, all blended into a beautiful, nostalgic piece of your soul so deeply imprinted. His eyes glimmer. The corners of his mouth pull themselves up. Yours do too.
Standing there, separated by a thousand miles but united through shared memories, you bring your hand to your lips, blowing him a kiss before letting a smile bloom across your face.
“I love you. I’m sorry.” He mouths it before sending you a kiss right back.
“I love you too,” you whisper under your breath before turning away and continuing forward.
In that moment, suspended between distance and presence, you finally embrace the unknown, slipping your fingers into its cold touch, letting it carry you away, far, far away.
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚
author's note pt. 2 :: i just wrote an epilogue to this so reaaaadddddddd pls
