The weight of words
part 1
-enhypen
● when arguments turn into breaking points with enhypen
pairing: enhypen x gn!reader
genre: angst, hurt/comfort (minus the comfort)
warnings: not proofread, lowercase intended, emotional pain, mentions of arguments and breakups, this is fictional and for dramatic effect.
summary: it starts small—an argument here, a weird silence there. but suddenly, they’re saying things you never thought you’d hear. and you’re standing there wondering when forever turned into this. it’s messy, it’s painful, and it kind of feels like the end.
heeseung:
“you’re not the same person i fell in love with.”
his voice is low, cold in a way you’ve never heard before. and it’s terrifying, how quickly he shuts down. your mouth opens slightly, stunned silent—because heeseung’s the one who always held your face in his hands and promised forever. now he won’t even look at you. he doesn’t mean it—he’s angry, overwhelmed, saying whatever will hit the hardest. but he doesn’t stop himself. not even when you back away, tears already pooling in your eyes. “okay,” you whisper, voice cracking. “then i guess there’s nothing left to say.” the door clicks shut behind you, and still, he stays frozen.
jay:
“you’re always too much. always needing something. i can’t breathe.”
you stare at him from across the kitchen, heart in your throat, chest tightening like it’s physically caving in. jay’s eyes are stormy, but his words—his words are cruel. like he wants to wound you. and he does. you take a shaky breath, not trusting your voice to hold steady. “sorry,” you mutter, turning away quickly. “i didn’t realize loving you was exhausting.” your steps are quiet, careful, like you’re scared of breaking. he doesn’t follow you. he doesn't say your name. he just stares at the floor while the silence wraps around his throat.
jake:
“you’re so sensitive, i can’t even talk to you anymore.”
he says it fast, frustrated, voice raised. but it still echoes loud in the apartment, heavier than either of you expected. and it breaks something in you—something you didn’t even realize was holding everything together. your jaw tightens, breath caught halfway between a sob and a scoff. “then don’t,” you reply, barely above a whisper, eyes glistening. “you don’t have to talk to me at all.” the front door closes with a soft thud behind you. jake stands in the silence, every second without you twisting into regret—but he stays still, stupidly thinking you’ll come back on your own.
sunghoon:
“god, you’re so fucking annoying when you act like this.”
he throws the words out without thinking, running a hand through his hair like you are the problem. your face drops immediately, like something in your chest just split. you weren’t even yelling—you were trying to explain how you felt. and now, suddenly, you’re “annoying.” you blink a few times, swallowing the lump in your throat. “i hope you feel better after that,” you say softly, reaching for your keys. “because i don’t.” you’re gone before he can turn around, the door shutting behind you like punctuation. he’s alone. and it hits him way too late.
sunoo:
“i don’t know why i even bother with you sometimes.”
he regrets it the second he says it—but his pride doesn’t let him take it back. and you hear it. all of it. every crack in his voice, every ounce of bitterness he tried to spit out. your entire body goes still. “wow,” you breathe out, laughing through the pain. “okay.” there’s nothing left to say. you walk away slowly, like if you move too fast you’ll fall apart entirely. sunoo watches the door close, jaw clenched. he wants to run after you. wants to say he didn’t mean it. but he just stands there, afraid you won’t believe him anymore.
jungwon:
“maybe we should just stop pretending this is working.”
it’s not like him to raise his voice. it’s not like him to give up. but this fight is different. it’s layered, messy, and he’s tired. you blink, looking up at him with wide, broken eyes. “is that what i’m doing?” you ask softly. “pretending?” your voice wobbles, and he flinches, realizing what he’s implied. but it’s too late. you’re already walking away—out of the kitchen, out of the room, out of his reach. the silence that follows is suffocating. he doesn’t chase you. not because he doesn’t want to, but because he doesn’t think he deserves to.
ni-ki:
“you’re so clingy. do you ever stop needing me for one second?”
it slips out like venom, a product of stress and exhaustion and a hundred things he should’ve said better. and suddenly, you're not talking anymore. your expression drops, slowly and painfully, like someone draining color from a photograph. “you didn’t have to say it like that,” you whisper. “you could’ve just said you needed space.” you leave before he can say anything else—before he can hurt you again. and when the door closes, ni-ki sits down slowly, face in his hands, wondering why he always ruins the things he loves most.