❪ はじめまして ❫ hurt/comfort est. rs dohoon x f!reader 1467 cw ノ they have an argument and dohoon says some pretty mean things :(, crying, overthinking, kissing, not proofread 〃 ♡ ⸝⸝⸝ literally wrote part of this in a little notebook during the sermon in church... i really have my priorities straight sdkjsk / 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄
Dohoon doesn't think he will be able to sleep tonight. Not after what he said to you earlier. He feels so ashamed the words even left his mouth, but they did in the heat of the moment, and it's too late to take them back now. He can't undo it, nor can he go back and prevent how those words would hit you suddenly and sharply. The way your eyes widened and you sucked in a breath, holding back tears that you would not let fall in front of him. And then you turned, like you no longer wanted anything to do with him, and your words from then on have torn through him like nails. It's all his fault.
"Why did you show up here without even asking first? You're gonna embarrass me in front of these sponsors. Why do you always think I want to see you at work? It's so unprofessional!"
It was a perfect combination of stress and tiredness snowballing into an overreaction. If Dohoon had been thinking straight, he should have melted on the spot at your gesture. Showing up at his ad shoot with a homemade lunch and a cute little sticky note to wish him luck. You weren't planning to stay long. You wouldn't even be in the way. You know how stressed he's been lately and just wanted to ease it the best way you know how. You didn't think it would end up backfiring on you.
"Fine. If that's how you feel, you should have let me know earlier. I'll leave before I embarrass you more. Have a good lunch. I'm sure it'll be better than what I made anyway."
You let the water drip down the side of your cheek as you stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror and replay the argument again in your head. Dohoon came home an hour ago and you've been hiding yourself in the bathroom ever since. The lunch you had taken to him sits abandoned in the fridge, still in its box. The heart-shaped sticky note lays crumpled in the trash can.
Your tear stains are still visible, as are the faint red rims around your eyes. Knowing Dohoon, he will probably notice if you gave him the opportunity. Washing your face had done nothing much to conceal what the past hours have been spent doing.
You don’t like fighting with him. Most of your anger has drained away leaving only a sparse and broken sadness. You are calmer now, but not yet ready to forgive him. He will need to ask for that from you.
You’ve fought with him before and you know how he gets. So stubborn and unmoving until he sees your tears, notices that his words aren’t just something you’ll shrug off like his friends. They mean a lot more to you. You take everything a lot harder.
Dohoon isn’t in bed when you come out of the bathroom. You wonder if he’s decided to sleep on the couch tonight. Or, perhaps he’s still annoyed with you and avoiding contact. You decide you won’t waste your time worrying about him and tell yourself that you don’t care where he sleeps or what he’s thinking.
It’s a lie. Of course it is.
As you lay in bed, your only thought is him.
Dohoon, Dohoon, Dohoon.
Is he tired? Exhausted from the shoot? Did he eat lunch? Is he still mad at you? If he sleeps on the couch, will he be uncomfortable? How long has he felt like this—annoyed and embarrassed that you’re his girlfriend? Does he want to break up with you?
You don’t want to break up with him, and the thought of it starts to panic you. To your dismay, tears start to prick again. Dohoon is the best thing in your life. Even with the fight today, he’s still everything to you, and you want him; stubbornness included.
The bed dips, and you realize Dohoon must have come in without you realizing. He must think you are already asleep, as your back faces the bedroom door and you’ve been completely still, consumed by your thoughts.
You quiet your breath and bite your lip to keep your tears at bay. He'll hear you if you don't. He'll see you crying, and then he'll feel horrible. And as much as you were angry at him earlier, you'll feel worse if you see him guilty.
You know he's looking at you. Somehow, without even turning, you can feel his gaze on you. And it's heavy, like he wants to say something but is hesitating. Your lip trembles and suddenly it's too hard to hold it in. Your tears burst through, and before you can stop it, a quiet sob escapes you.
Dohoon sits up, eyes wide, throat tight. He was sure you were asleep. He was relieved when he walked into the bedroom and saw you already under the covers. He didn't guess that you were still awake all this time, and doing your best to not cry. You have always hated crying in front of others.
"Y/n?"
It comes out strained and soft, the words still clinging to a fraction of hesitance. But they fight their way out, and your name on his lips breaks through your raging thoughts. You press your face into your pillow and try to steady your breathing. You can't stop your tears from sheer willpower, but you still try to.
When Dohoon's hand touches your shoulder, the tension in your muscles is dispelled.
"Y/n, let me hold you. Can I? Please?"
Your brain barely processes what he's saying, but your body seems to understand without it. You shift just slightly closer to him, enough to invite more. Soon enough he's pulling you against his chest and holding you tightly. You're wrapped up completely in his arms, tears swallowed into his hoodie, and the scent of his cologne clinging to your senses. It's almost surprising how much better you feel just by being in his arms.
"Did you mean what you said earlier? You're embarrassed by me?" you ask quietly. You feel Dohoon suck in a sharp breath, and his hand gently stroke your back.
"I shouldn't have said it. I'm sorry. I regretted it immediately. Of course I'm not embarrassed of you. I'm only embarrassed of what I said earlier."
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was coming. I should have asked first."
Dohoon shakes his head and presses his lips to your forehead.
"You shouldn't have to apologize for it. How lucky am I to have my girlfriend surprise me with lunch at work? I'm stupid to have acted that way. I was just stressed."
"You made me feel horrible."
Your voice is still choked up, but most of your tears are dried. Dohoon cups your cheeks, his thumbs swiping over the salty tracks your tears left on your face. His eyes are glassy and regretful.
"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I love you." He kisses you between apologies, his lips softer than you've felt in a long time. "I'm sorry. I love you so much. I'm sorry."
It doesn't take long for you to melt into his touch, and soon you're kissing him back just as desperately. The ache in your chest calms to a hush as Dohoon dotes on you, pressing kisses to any inch of skin he can reach.
"You know," you mumble with a laugh. Dohoon still holds your face close to his, forehead pressed against yours. "I couldn't stop worrying about you earlier. Even though I was angry at you, even when I thought you might…"
"Might what? What did you think?"
"That you might want to break up with me," you say finally. Dohoon's eyebrows furrow. You can tell he's beating himself up inside for even letting you think like this. You smile at him. "I know it's stupid. I know you don't want to break up. It was just… I was spiralling."
Dohoon seems to relax, but his eyes still search your face for any sign of discomfort. He only pulls away once he's sure you're feeling better. The exhaustion from the day and comfort of being in Dohoon's arms again hits you all at once, and sleep comes quickly for you.
Dohoon stays awake for a while. He soaks in the sight of you sleeping soundly in his arms and promises himself he won't ever let something like today happen again. He'll never make you feel like that again, never let you doubt him or his love for you. He hopes that sleep will wash away the guilt that still stirs in the pit of his stomach. Even though you've already forgiven him, he still wants to make it up to you. It's the least he can do.
[ılıılıılıılıılı] you told me to hush but you make me want to love you loud.
⸝⸝in which! you are tired of being a secret. genre! 'bf'!dohoon x reader. hurt/comfort. arguing. idol life (bomb HYBE). requested! warning(s)! argueing, a bit of swearing, crying. wc! 2.4k 𖧧 @fantasia-films; @k-records, @berrybittynetwork.
💿 j. note — u asked for angst so i bring you angst >:3. btw another song i recommend to listen while reading is the cure — Olivia Rodrigo hehe (yes it is that deep). Anyways, nmixx & tws will conquer the world >:3.
── ✶ 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 & 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
SOMETIMES THINGS CAME TO AN END, you knew that better than anyone. But just because you knew those had an end didn’t mean they hurt any less. Not at all.
The sound of the fan in front of you kept you absorbed in your own thoughts and, at the same time, somewhat connected to the present. You were thinking back on the argument you’d just had with Dohoon. The memory tasted bitter, and your ears were ringing; though you weren’t sure if it was because of the fan blowing in your face or because of the memory itself.
In your mind, Dohoon was sitting on the bed, still in his work clothes, his hair tousled.
“I don’t understand.” That’s what came out of his mouth. His brow furrowed, his tone reproachful. You had argued. You’d even yelled at him a little. Over how a jar of jam should be opened. An absurdity that would have been somewhat funny if you hadn’t made a personal remark. A very personal one, one that obviously had nothing to do with the jam. You’d reproached him for something he hadn’t quite understood (he sometimes had trouble picking up on hints)—though he was sure the argument was no longer just about a little jar of jam.
“Is something wrong, babe? You’ve been acting strange ever since I got back from Japan.” He seemed genuinely concerned.
You sighed, running your hand over your face. “I’m tired, Dohoon. Tired of everything. Tired of this.”
Dohoon frowned, panicking inside.
“Of this?” he asked. “Of the jam?”
“No, Dohoon, about us. About whatever it is we have. I’m tired of having to hide, of having to hide that I love you. I’m tired of not being able to go to the café to have a damn cup of coffee with you, and I’m tired of not being able to go for walks like normal people because every time someone shows up, you let go of my hand as if it were burning. As if we were doing something bad, for god’s sake ” You exploded right in front of him. You were desperate, exhausted. It seemed as if every sign of life in you was slowly fading away. You weren’t yelling anymore, but Dohoon knew that was even worse.
“Yn, you know I’d do it. Gladly. But my job…” Dohoon began, standing up carefully and holding your hands in his. However, the gentle touch that would have calmed you down before only made you angrier. He wasn’t looking you in the eyes, as his eyes were fixated in the floor. “I… my contract…” He couldn’t finish the sentence, though you both knew perfectly well what had been left unsaid.
The contract didn’t specify it explicitly, but Dohoon had been involved in a couple of dating scandals before for just being polite and knew what he was up against. Crazy, heartbroken fans who even sent funeral wreaths, trucks, do ciber bullying… and above all, a company angry over the trouble caused. He was just another asset to them, and if he caused trouble, they’d fire him. They didn’t care about his dream; they cared about the money he could make.
If only everything were easier… he thought, biting his lip.
“Screw your job,” you blurted out without thinking twice.
The pain in the guy’s eyes was immediate. They were simple words that made him feel misunderstood.
“Yn. My job is really important to me—you know that,” he whispered, the pain evident in his voice. “It’s my dream, I can just, I don’t know, quit.”
You pressed your lips together and let go of his hands without much care. “Well, go fulfill it on your own. After all, that’s all you ever show. For them, I don’t exist in your life.”
Once the words came out of your mouth, and you saw the pained look on your boyfriend’s face, you immediately regretted saying them. You didn’t mean to say that. You really wanted to support him. But lately, Dohoon had been all about work, and you felt like his trophy girlfriend. Just a way to cope with stress. Nothing more.
It was like… like you didn’t matter at all. And that made you feel like shit.
It didn’t make it hurt any less. Dohoon parted his lips slightly and took a step back, startled. And hurt. He looked like he was about to cry.
“Oh, really…?” he whispered. “What about what you told me? That you’d always support me, even if the road looked dark. What about that? Was that a lie, too?”
You swallowed hard, tears welling up in your eyes. Gosh, you really weren’t cut out for arguments.
“And what about me? What about my dreams? My passions?” you protested. The words tumbled out, and the first tear began to roll down your cheek. You swallowed hard and looked him in the eyes.
“What about us, Dohoon? Is there even a place for us in that dream of yours?” you whispered.
He looked down. “You know it’s not quite like that…”
“Oh, really?” you almost shouted, casting aside your earlier calm. “Then how is it? Because all I know is that I can’t go anywhere with you. We can’t do anything, Dohoon. Because your damn company won’t let you. I’m just a secret to you! A secret to everyone else. But I’m tired of being a secret. I want to love with all my heart. I want to be loud. And I want to be loved just as much. I don’t want this damn silence. I don’t want to be something to hide. Not anymore.”
Then, with a stomp of your foot, you turned on your heel, striding purposefully toward the wooden door.
“Yn!” your ‘boyfriend’ called after you, but you ignored him.
You turned your head, yes, but only to tell him through your tears, “I need some time to think. Don’t text me, don’t call me, don’t do anything.” And just like that, you stormed out of the apartment he shared with the band members, slamming the door behind you.
You left a distraught Dohoon behind. He didn’t even know what had just happened. How… how had things gotten to this point?
And why did he feel such emptiness as he watched you leave?
Why did he feel like he was dying right there?
How would he live now without you?
And that’s how your memory ended.
🎵———————————————————
Word of the fight soon reached the other members—especially Jihoon, who, since he shared a room with Dohoon (and was his best friend), was the one who had to be there for him. Somehow. Because it was true that Dohoon wasn’t really up for it.
Jihoon knew full well that he fell asleep crying. He could hear him sobbing at night, and when he got up, it was easy to spot the dark circles under his eyes.
Every time Jihoon saw him get up and go to the bathroom to wash his face, he felt pity. Sadness.
Because he himself was all too aware of the consequences of the path they’d chosen, and how it was affecting everything they cared about.
If only things were different.
🎵———————————————————
The next to notice were the makeup artists. It was almost impossible not to notice the striking change in behavior in just a few days. Besides, they always noticed. They were the ones who saw them up close all the time after all.
“Dohoon-ssi, is everything okay?” his makeup artist asked once.
Dohoon had a distant look in his eyes, and his expression was… wistful. Too wistful for someone who was only twenty-one.
“Dohoon-ssi…?” she asked again, pausing with the brush in her hand.
“Hm? Sorry?” he asked, snapping out of his reverie. That made him look even more tired.
The girl looked dismayed. “No… it’s nothing. Sorry.”
He managed to smile, but it came out awkwardly. It certainly wasn’t genuine. It wasn’t even much of a smile—hardly one at all.
The girl gulped; it was the first time in a long time she’d seen Dohoon like this.
That’s why she knew at a glance: something was seriously wrong in his head.
🎵———————————————————
And finally, word of the fight reached the manager. They lived together—it wasn’t complicated. Besides, Shinyu had approached him discreetly, while the rest were asleep, to talk to him about the issue.
“There must be something that can be done,” the leader urged in a whisper, worried.
The manager bit his lip. Shinyu wasn’t asking for something easy to do. It could mean punishment or even someone’s dismissal. But for his boy, for his star who was losing his luster… for him, he’d try. He was already fed up with that industry. They deserved to be happy with whomever they wanted. It was the least they deserved after everything they’d been put through.
“I’ll see what I can do,” he nodded, with a reassuring smile.
Shinyu truly hoped it would make a difference.
🎵———————————————————
On the other side of Seoul, relatively far from where Dohoon lived, there was you.
You, who checked your phone every five seconds just to see if he’d texted you—even though you’d told him not to. The truth was, you regretted it. Sometimes. At the end of the day, you still loved him too much. Other times, you knew you were partly right, too. Maybe you didn’t say it the best way, but… you really believed that.
Although you no longer knew which hurt more: being a secret or never being anything at all.
Now everything was in your hands, but you weren’t quite sure what you were waiting for. A signal? Maybe.
Maybe you’d die waiting like this. Who knew? Certainly not the TV show you were watching from the couch while trying to forget the person you’d started it with.
🎵———————————————————
The next day, a phone call woke you up. It was your mom.
You frowned. That was really strange. Strange because you’d just called your mom the afternoon before.
Still, you unlocked your phone and answered it.
“YN!” she shouted, cutting off your greeting. What energy first thing in the morning, you thought.
“Hi, Mom, good morning. What? How am I? I’m fine, thanks,” you said sarcastically.
“Oh, shut up. Haven’t you seen the news?! Why didn’t you tell me you were dating a K-pop idol?!!” she exclaimed, ignoring you sarcasm.
You yawned. I’m so sleepy, oh my gosh, you thought. Wait a minute. What did she say?
“What?” you blurted out.
“Yes, honey, yes! Your sister told me. That cute guy from the group she likes. Twenty? Two dice? T…?”
“TWS.” You finished her sentence, your eyes wide as saucers. All the alarm bells went off in your head.
Pardon me?
“But Mom, where did Ian see him?”
“So it’s true?! You kept that a secret from me, huh… you little minx,” she laughed over the phone while you were having three heart attacks.
“Mom,” you urged.
“Oh, yes, yes. Your sister says she was watching an interview and they asked him one of those typical silly questions about love. And he said he had a girlfriend.”
You were too stunned to speak.
“W…what?”
“He didn’t actually say your name, but I remembered something you told me about this guy, so I figured it must be you,” your mom continued. “You should’ve told me sooner, girl!” she complained, though you could easily picture her smiling.
To be honest, it took you a while to react.
“Um… yeah. Sorry. Mom, can I call you later? I’ve got something to do,” you said hurriedly.
“Oh, sure. These young people and their rush…” she complained again, but you hung up before she could finish.
What?
You had to talk to Dohoon. Someone had to explain to you what was going on. And why you were so happy, too—but that was another matter.
A notification popped up on your phone. It was from Dohoon.
[7:05]
Sweet punkin spice latte 🩵: “I know you told me not to contact you, but this is important. HYBE rooftop in 30 minutes?”
You reacted with a simple thumbs-up and cursed the timing.
He had so much to explain to you.
🎵———————————————————
7:35. You’d arrived right on time. Your skirt fluttered in the morning breeze, and so did your hair. It was windy—that much was clear.
He was already there. He was wearing his usual gray sweatshirt and the blue cap he loved so much. His face seemed to light up when he saw you. You even thought he’d rush over to give you a hug like he always did. However, he seemed to remember where the argument had left off and held back.
“Yn. You came.” He walked over to you, his hair blowing in the wind, making him look painfully handsome.
“You called,” you said simply and bluntly. “What did you want, Dohoon?”
The boy looked the other way, rubbing the back of his neck. He was unaccustomed to this harsh side of you. Dohoon cleared his throat.
“I… um… I’m sure you’ve seen the video.”
You nodded. “I’ve seen a little, yes.”
You’d watched the clip five times on your way there, but you weren’t going to tell him that. It hurt to be cold, but you also knew it was your defense mechanism.
He nodded. “Good. Well, what I said is true. Or I’d like it to be.” Pause. He took another step toward you and took a deep breath.
“Yn, I don’t want to love you in secret either. I want to love you loud and clear. I might need a microphone and speakers just so everyone can hear me right. You were right. My dream shouldn’t come at the expense of the other things that matter to me. Like you. Or your dreams. Or even myself. That’s why… that’s why I did it. That’s why I said I love you.”
You swallowed hard. Something inside you melted. How could you not love him, after all? He, too, was trying to figure out how to navigate love. A love neither of you had ever felt before.
You took a deep breath. Words were just words, but you couldn’t deny actions. And what Dohoon had just done… it was crazy. And very risky. But it also held another meaning. That at the end of the day, he wasn’t afraid of the men in suits. He wasn’t afraid to love you. Or if he was, he’d been brave enough to stand up for himself. And for you too. Maybe… maybe you could forgive him. Or maybe you had since you heard what he said in the interview. Since the “she’s the person who makes me happy.”
You also took a step forward and held Dohoon’s hands in yours. “Aren’t you going to get into trouble for this?”
“As long as I’m with you, everything will be fine. Besides, Manager-nim has promised me that I can keep living my dream.”
You showed a tiny smile. “I’m glad.” You gave him a hug then. “And… I’m sorry for what I said,” you whispered. “Your dream matters to me. Your work is important, I know it is. It’s important because you love it. But… Anyways, thank you for this. I know it’s completely crazy.”
He laughed into your shoulder, too. “No but, fo real. I’m really scared, actually. But if I’m with you, I’ll be okay. And I’m sorry too. I can sometimes be stupid and dumb.” He rested his head in the crook of your neck and shoulder, which welcomed him warmly. He’d missed you. “But… as long as you’re by my side, I’ll be the happiest person alive.”
“I’ll be here.” You nodded, a couple of tears even escaping your eyes. “Even when I’m tired. I just need you to let me go get my pumpkin spice latte.”
Dohoon laughed. “Asyatchu is better.”
“Yeah, keep telling yourself that.” You joked
And so, embraced like that, was how you welcomed the day (literally, because you’d just woken up).
Fights made the bonds tighten and the threads teeter on the brink of snapping.
But after the storm, there’s always a reassuring moment when the rope relaxes and never breaks. Some ropes can even be renewed.
Change was good.
And for that to happen, sometimes you had to fight a little.
You knew that now too, as you held Dohoon a little longer.
── 𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🎐This hands had to let it go free, and this love came back to me.
synopsis! you are leaving soon, too soon for your own good. you'll be moving to Japan to study, leaving all you know in Korea. you and dohoon have been dating for a long time now. but you have a secret, that is. before you are gone, you are going to say goodbye. goodbye to your relationship. goodbye to dohoon.
genre! bf!dohoon x fm!reader. kinda angst. one-shot. based in South Korea and Japan. Tanabata mention. requested! (thank u hehe). inspired by this love by taylor swift. Mention to Jiwoo (from h2h). (hajimemashite = nice to see you again).
warnings! not proofread. reader is scared of long distance relationships. misscomunication. (nothing mature, i think...).
wc! 3.3k
a/n: not me telling myself this was going to be under 1k-. also, i suck at writing synopsis, sorry… TT but, anyways, have fun reading!
It was July 6th, your last day living in Korea for at least the next four years of your life, while you finished your degree. A really long time in comparison to your short life. Although you’d obviously visit your parents during the holidays, it was still a very long time away from your hometown. You’d miss all of that—spending all your time with your family, walking along the river, or the hustle and bustle of the city where you’d grown up, late nights with your best friend Jiwoo…
And above all, even though it would be hard for you to admit as a teen, you would miss Dohoon. You’d miss eating with him at the cafeteria, you’d miss how his hand sensed against yours, you’d miss looking at him during your study sessions because you (indeed) can’t focus... He was your boyfriend, after all. And you knew he would leave a mark in you. Even if the following day he will no longer be your boyfriend. That’s what you had agreed on. It had been a quiet, serene winter afternoon when you had decided on it. Dohoon was playing with your fingers while you watched another romantic comedy that you both enjoyed more than ever. He laughed carefree, and you thought to yourself how much you just wanted that happiness to last. However, for you, that happiness didn’t include you. Not if you were dozens of miles away. That’s why you planned to break up with him, on July 7th at exactly midnight. He didn’t know, of course.
Back then, when it seemed like a distant future, it had looked like a great idea, and even though your heart ached, you’d still have time to prepare yourself mentally. Now, as you stroked the hair of a half-asleep Dohoon on the park grass, lying in your lap, it didn’t seem that good. Not easy, nor normal. And you didn’t have time to prepare mentally either.
It’s for his own good, you told yourself inwardly for the thirty-fourth time. You needed to convince yourself too.
His fingers intertwined with yours, breathing steadily, his chest rising and falling calmly. A smile spread across your lips almost without you realizing it, and before you knew it, you were playing with his hair, trying to twist it into little hearts. He was awake; you knew it. But you also knew he was pretending to be asleep so you’d keep paying attention to him.
“Dohoon, Dohoon…” you hummed with a smile, for no apparent reason other than that you felt like it.
“Mmm… what are you doing?” he asked, squinting in the light.
“Making little hearts. Don’t you think it’s cute?” you told him, teasing him a bit.
He frowned, but let out a soft laugh. “Do I look cute?” he asked, looking up at you. You smiled.
“Cuter than ever.”
Dohoon grinned at that, kinda faking superiority. “Of course I do. Aren’t I cuter than Cherry?” he asked, comparing himself to your orange kitte, with whom he had been having a competition to know who you loved most. You were going to miss Cherry too. A lot.
“Pfft,” you snorted, widening your eyes, exaggerating it a bit. “I don’t know, huh… cuter than Cherry? You should know your limits, Hoonie…” you replied.
“Hey!” he complained, nudging you from the floor.
You laughed, and he, in the end, moved more gently. He lifted his head from your lap and sat down beside you, your fingers still intertwined. A tender smile returned to his face; how much he loved you, he thought. And how much he was going to miss you. Unlike you, he didn’t care about those dozens of miles; he just wanted to be with you. He didn’t mind trying, as long it was with you.
He leaned in close to your face, mischievous as ever, to give you a quick kiss and make you blush just as red as always.
“Hey!” you complained, and now it was his turn to laugh. He cupped your cheeks in his hands and gave you another kiss on the nose—gentle, slow, and full of tender love. There was another on your forehead, and another on your cheek. And yet another at the corner of your lips. And another, and another, and another until your face was covered in kisses.
Happiness flooded your heart, and you allowed yourself to forget for a moment that it would all be over tomorrow, focusing on the present. You let out a little giggle.
“I love you,” you murmured against his lips when Dohoon kissed you again. Face to face.
“I love you too,” he whispered back.
This love is good, you thought to yourself, with a silly smile.
𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🎐July 7th. 0:03
It was July 7th. The clock read midnight. You couldn’t put it off any longer. No matter how much you wanted to, you couldn’t. You had made a promise to yourself. You had promised yourself that you would let him be happy, even if it wasn’t with you. Even if he was with someone else. You had always known that Dohoon deserved better; maybe it was time to let him find that person.
You let out a shaky sigh.
In reality, you didn’t want to do this. But what else could you do? You liked the alternative even less. Not because staying with him would make you the happiest person in the world, but because the thought of a sad, depressed Dohoon was unbearable for you.
You liked to read. In fact, you read a lot. And in none of those books did this kind of long-distance relationship end well. You were just rushing things, weren’t you?
Or maybe you were just too afraid to try. You’d always been a coward, after all.
You let out another breath, trembling, sitting on the toilet (because you’d decided to go to the bathroom; yes, a slightly odd place, but no one would suddenly open the door on you there). Put yourself together (yn), you told yourself as you dialed his number, one you’d memorized even before you started dating. Good times.
You called him, and it took him a while to answer. He was probably sleeping until his phone rang. Or maybe not. Maybe he was nervous too, just like you. Who knew.
“(yn)? What are you doing awake…? You’re leaving super early tomorrow. You always complain about how you look like a monster when you don’t sleep…” you heard him scolding him on the other end of the line. His sleepy voice, the familiar tone he used… all that just made you want to cry. You stayed strong, though. You needed to stay strong.
“Dohoon.” You cut him off, swallowing hard. By then, your mouth was moving faster than your heart. “I want to break up with you.”
There was a silence on the other end of the line before his question became audible. “…What?” He sounded incredulous.
“I said we have to break up,” you told him, hugging your legs. Your stomach turned. Silence was heard, and no one spoke for the next seconds.
It’s for his own good.
“I’ve heard you. But, why? Did I do something wrong? I don’t understand…” He finally said. His voice broke mid-sentence, desperate. You knew he was surprised; you could tell from his voice that he was about to cry, and you also knew that was why he stopped talking. You knew him all too well it hurted.
“You haven’t done anything.” Pause. “It’s just that I don’t have feelings for you anymore,” you told him. It was a lie. The biggest lie you’d told in a long time. You knew it. And you sensed that Dohoon did too.
“That’s a lie,” he retorted, confirming your thoughts. You were a terrible liar, after all. He sounded desperate, and you couldn’t blame him. “I saw you this morning; you still love me. You told me you loved me, and I knew it was sincere. So I still don’t understand what’s going on.”
You swallowed hard again, and the first tears began to roll down your face. You couldn’t tell him the truth. You just couldn’t. You knew he wouldn’t agree with you, but you needed to do it. For him. For you.
Seeing that you didn’t respond, he let out a breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding.
“Let me at least see you, (yn)… Let this be the last time,” he pleaded. “Then we won’t see each other again, if that’s what you want for us.”
And you, foolishly in love as you were, wanted to listen to him. To go, to see him, to let him hug you and wipe away your tears while you wiped away his. But you wouldn’t go, because you also knew that if you went to see him, you’d change your mind, and you’d never want to let him go.
And then Dohoon would be unhappy.
“Dohoon.” you said with that last thought in mind, and you tried to ignore how sharp and broken your voice sounded in comparison with your normal tone. You knew that on the other end, he was holding his breath, waiting. He waited for you to say yes. However, with great regret, you still had your own plans. “Dohoon, goodbye. Please be happy.”
And with that said, cutting Dohoon off mid-‘wait,’ that was how you and Dohoon ended that beautiful thing you had between you, the one you called a relationship. One day, it was your everything. Now, it had ended up in nothing.
He, who never thought something like this would happen —he hadn't even had a bad dream about this.
You, who were ready for it even if you didn’t want to be.
Tears began to stream down your face; hiding your face between your knees, you began to sob. Weeping over the loss of the one you had pushed away. It hurt: the guilt, the not-knowing… It all made your chest burn. It all made you feel bad. You were alone now.
'Is this love bad now?'—that was your thought this time. No silly smile on your face.
𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🎐 July 7th. 6:45AM
Dohoon turned off his phone for the hundredth time since you’d called him. He hadn’t slept a wink all night. He couldn’t stop thinking and overthinking every little gesture he’d made, searching for something that might have led to the situation you were in. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he remembered everything your relationship had been. He didn’t sob now, he just mourned calmly. For Dohoon, this relationship had been beautiful — his favorite — full of hope, possibility, and love. Perhaps, for you, it hadn’t meant the same thing, seeing how things had turned out.
‘I don’t have feelings for you anymore’ was the phrase Dohoon had repeated most in his head all night long. He didn’t believe you. He didn’t believe you one bit. He had seen how you looked at him, how you smiled at him… it was impossible. It was true that you’d been a little more down as July 7th approached, but he simply attributed it to your trip abroad.
Not to this.
And the worst part? He already missed you.
Dohoon closed his eyes tightly and let out a soft groan; God, how pathetic he was. And now even the excuse of being in love didn’t work for him anymore…
With dark circles under his eyes, but without any sign of tiredness, he finally got up. It was 7:00 AM. He showered, got dressed, and yes, he went to the airport. He wasn’t very sure if he’d find you, nor did he know what to do if he did. But he had to see you. One last time.
Once at the airport, he hurried around, searching, looking, and even asking people where you were —something he would never have dared to do before, given how shy he was. And just as he was about to give up and go home resigned to his fate, he caught a glimpse of a red scarf that stood out from the rest. He knew that all too well. He had seen it on you too many times. In fact, you didn’t really know why, or how, but Dohoon knew your wardrobe inside and out. Therefore, the boy had never been more grateful for his weird obsessions, because when he turned around, the person he saw was you.
You were smiling. You were crying, too. You were doing both at the same time, while your mother wrapped you in a gentle embrace, crying just as hard. Jiwoo, your best friend was there too, sobbing and crying too. They were saying goodbye.
Deep down, he wanted to go. He wanted to go hug you too, to tell you he’d stay by your side, that whatever it was you weren’t telling him, you could get through it together. He wanted to ask you to stay. He had been wanting that for a long time now. However, his legs turned to lead. He couldn’t move, couldn’t even get a word out.
Time passed. Just a few minutes. Painful, but brief. Dohoon watched you grab your suitcase more tightly, kiss both your parents goodbye on the cheek, give a quick hug to Jiwoo, and walk away, glancing back and waving your hand. Their kiss, your cheek, and he watched you leave.
He didn’t think you’d seen him. Maybe it was better that way.
Because he was left with his heart in his hand.
And you were just gone and gone.
𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🎐. Three years later. July 7th. Tanabata.
It was July 7; Tanabata, the festival when dozens of Japanese people strolled through the festival streets and hung their wishes on bamboo trees. Legend had it that they came true.
You’d been living in Japan for a while now, ever since you went to study at the university, and no matter how many times you hung a wish on the tree, it never came true; to make a lot of money, to find a boyfriend, to pass all my classes next semester… There was always something that went wrong. That’s why you’d stopped believing in Tanabata. However, you’d grown fond of going there, seeing the rows and rows of wishes and the soft tinkling of the bells, combined with the bustling streets of the park. You liked the atmosphere that developed, where individualism faded away and everyone seemed to come together as one.
You strolled through the festival streets with a smile on your face, watching the children play with the little fish and the adults eat, drink, and drink. You loved the happiness that filled the air.
You paused for a moment to watch the pond where the carp swam in circles, stepping on each other’s tails because the tank was so small. There were other children peering into the pond, admiring the little fish as if they were made of gold. It took you back three years. It took you back to Dohoon, your last partner, a boyfriend you hadn’t been able to forget completely yet. Sometimes, your mind played tricks on you and made you dream of him, made you wonder what your life would be like if you had never left Korea. If you had never let him go. And always, after thinking that, guilt would come to say hello.
You remembered his black hair, always as black as coal, well-groomed and straight, very straight, just the way he liked it. You remembered his silly jokes that you swore you’d heard your uncle tell at Christmas, and his shy laugh that, over time, grew louder and louder. You missed him.
Tanabata reminded you of him, because three years ago, on that very day, you broke up by saying goodbye. You lied a bit too, but you were starting to forgive your younger self.
You had family in Japan, so your grandmother recommended you go to the festival (according to her, it was mandatory) that very day, as soon as you arrived from Korea. However, because of the pain of having left Dohoon, of having lied to him, and the sound of his broken, sad voice, you just wanted to stay home and wallow in your own misery. You really didn’t want to go, but your grandmother was so insistent that you finally agreed to take a walk in the park.
Your first wish on the bamboo tree was: “I wish for Dohoon to be happy.” And a little further down, in small letters, you dared to write despite your guilt: “I hope to see Dohoon again someday.”
It didn’t come true that year, nor the next, nor the one after that; so, as you know, you eventually ended up losing hope.
A cry from the boy in front of you snapped you back to reality, and with it, the memory left a bitter taste in your mouth. Maybe Dohoon was partly to blame for your fondness for Tanabata. Who knew? Sometimes you didn’t even understand yourself.
You tore your gaze away from the pond and decided to keep walking among the stalls and the countless strips of colored paper. In fact, you were so focused on them that you completely forgot how difficult it was to walk in the stilts and the yukata. So much that you tripped over your own foot and fell right onto the person in front of you. He let out a little yelp of surprise.
“Oh my goodness, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you said, quickly pulling away from his back. Oh my goodness, how embarrassing.
“Ouch!” you heard him say as they turned around. “Don’t worry, I’m…” he said as they looked up from the ground and turned their gaze toward you. He didn’t get to say anything else, however, before he was left speechless.
And, oh. My. Gosh. There was no way. It couldn't be... What were the odds of running into him? Zero. He didn't even live in Japan. You'd never even mentioned Tanabata to him, and he was Korean, for heaven's sake. There was no way you had met there. But there he was.
Kim Dohoon.
Right in front of you. It was Kim Dohoon.
His hair was a little messier, and he looked a few years older. He was taller and wore more expensive clothes, as far as you could tell, but at his core, he was Kim Dohoon. The one who had once been your Kim Dohoon. With his shiny, beautiful hair that had made you so jealous so many times, and his big, black, deep eyes that sparkled in the sunlight. Guilt churned in your stomach as you remembered that phone call, but the excitement—or surprise— of seeing him (you hadn’t decided yet) was greater, once again.
Clear blue water, dozens of colorful papers, Tanabata had come and brought him in.
“Dohoon…” you murmured, a name you hadn’t spoken in years. Suddenly, it felt like you were seventeen again, on the grass, playing with his hair and laughing with him. When life seemed so easy. Just for a moment in your mind, you were kids again at that high school in Korea, but kids who loved each other. Even though sometimes you didn’t know how to handle it.
At first, he hadn’t recognized you in that old yukata and with just a touch of makeup. However, your voice would always be the kind of melody Dohoon could never forget. Your hair fell casually, a little shorter than he remembered, but just as untamed as before. Your eyes, shining like stars, reflected the orange glow of the lanterns. You were beautiful, and Dohoon’s heart skipped a beat, even though it had been so long since you’d seen each other, since the airport. He didn't hold a grudge against you. In fact, once he saw you, everything around you ceased to matter, and in the boy’s mind, only you and he existed. Him and you.
“(yn),” he murmured to you, and a smile spread across his lips. It was nostalgic, but somehow it made your heart flutter. “Nice to see you again.”
You smiled too, softly. “Hajimemashite, Dohoon.”
And this love, the one you felt every time you were with him back then, came back to you. Glowing in the dark, between lanterns and laughter, like the most beautiful star.
genre. hurt/comfort.
warnings. overthinking but not in detail lol(??). just some tired hurt/comfort.
pairing. dohoon x fem!reader.
wc. 556.
request. no.
a/n. my first tws fic <3 i love this group sm already, pls send in reqs for them!! very excited to be writing for them 🫡
Dohoon was exhausted. His entire body ached, and lying down on his bed under the blankets had never felt so good. He stretched his legs, hoping to ease the soreness while enjoying the warmth of the blankets on top of him. He shifted from his back to his side, face to face with your back.
“Are you asleep?” He asked in a whisper. You hummed tiredly and turned around to show your boyfriend that you weren’t quite yet. You liked to wait for him so that you could fall asleep together. Dohoon knew that and he smiled at the thought.
“Are you ready for tomorrow?” You prompted softly, snuggling under the covers comfortably. Dohoon closed his eyes, his eyebrows furrowing as he thought about it.
“As ready as I can be… I guess.”
“You prepared as much as you could for this. You always gave it everything you had— I watched you from the start.” You assured him, your eyes also falling shut from your tiredness. Sleepy conversations like this were always something you engaged in with Dohoon. It helped relax his racing mind and anxious thoughts, and it gave you the opportunity to catch up with him since most days were busy.
Dohoon hummed in response to you. You had been there from the very beginning, giving him your unwavering support in everything. He probably wouldn’t have made it this far if you weren’t there. He had needed that extra pillar to lean on. Knowing that there was always someone waiting for him— to comfort him and cheer him up, to encourage him and keep pushing him as well— it meant more than anything to him.
“Hey…” You shifted closer to him, knowing that his silence was a sign that he was thinking too much again. You wished you could give him a break from his thoughts; they always seemed to bring him more distress and worry than anything. But, if it wasn’t for his amazing brain, he would never have been able to get this far.
“You’re thinking again, aren’t you?” You mumbled, forcing your eyes open a tiny bit so you could look at him. You couldn’t help but be worried about your boyfriend. You only wanted the best for him.
“Always thinking.” He responded, welcoming you a little closer by pulling your wrist. You shifted to lay on his chest, your cheek resting against his heart.
It was racing again. And not because of you.
“I wish I could help more, baby…” You sighed, running your fingers over a small spot on his collarbone to relax him.
“I know. I’m sorry.” He whispered, his voice choking up slightly at the end. You hugged him tighter at the sound.
“Just try to get some sleep, Dohoon. Crying now will only stress you out. Cry after the showcase, okay? I’ll be there to hold you.” You promised him, placing a kiss on his neck, right over his small mole.
He listened to you, closing his eyes again and breathing steadily, using the breathing exercises that you had taught him when he first felt anxious. It was helping— the steady breathing, the feeling of having you close, your fingers that were still drawing circles on his warm skin. He relaxed eventually, drifting off into his dreams which proved much more pleasant than his waking thoughts.
