Long For You
“By the time I realized the truth, it was already too late”
Pairing: ex!hyunjin x fem!reader
Summary: In which falling apart was easier than staying, but even when everything between us broke, some truths
Genre: angst with comfort, exes to lovers, fluff ending, reader is understanding, angst at the start
wc: 1.2k-ish
✨main masterlist✨
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Y/N sat on the edge of her bed— barely paying attention to her surroundings. Her fingers clutched a crumpled hoodie—not hers, Hyunjin’s. It smelled faintly of him, like new are supplies and the perfume he always said was “worth it.” The kind of scent you think will comfort you but only reminds you of the hollow space left behind.
The text had come this morning, unassuming, almost casual.
“Can we talk? I know I fucked up.”
Her chest had tightened at the sight of his name. Hyunjin. Her Hyunjin. Her jinnie—the one who still made her heart stutter even when she hated him.
She didn’t reply. She didn’t know if she could. Because the truth—every little shard of it—was sharper than she had let herself to see. Falling apart had been easier than staying. It was easier to walk away than to fight for a version of love that had already cracked. And now, even as her fingers floated over her phone, she could feel that old magnetic pull—of wanting him, of needing him—mixing with the though of pushing him away.
The knock on the door startled her. Quiet, hesitant.
“Y/N?”
The voice—soft, familiar—made her heart leap and ache at the same time.
“I… I can’t just talk through text,” Hyunjin said, stepping into the room. His hair was slightly mussed, his eyes rimmed red like he hadn’t slept.
She didn’t answer. Didn’t move. Her back pressed against the headboard, as if proximity could protect her from the storm he brought.
“I didn’t… I didn’t mean for it to get like this,” he whispered, voice breaking in the spaces between each word. He took a step closer— but her flinching was evident, not from fear, but from memory—of all the times she had let him close, just for him to pull away again.
“Jinnie…” she began, her voice barely audible, fragile like glass.
“I know,” he cut in, shaking his head, the familiar tilt that used to make her heart melt now just a reminder of what she’d lost. “I’m not asking for forgiveness. I—”
She shook her head before he could finish. “Then why are you here?”
“I had to see you. Had to… tell you,” he said, lowering himself onto the edge of her bed, careful not to touch her. “But by the time I realized the truth, it was already too late.”
“I don’t even know who I am with you anymore,” she admitted, the words trembling in her throat. “We broke because we kept pretending we were fine. We weren’t. And yet…” She trailed off, unable to confront how much she still wanted him.
“Y/N…” His hand hovered over hers. He wanted to reach out, but he respected the boundary. “I can’t fix the past. But I can tell you I’m still here. That I still…” He swallowed hard. “…still love you. Even if you don’t want me to.”
Her breath hitched. The words were like salt on a wound, stinging and impossible to ignore. She hated that she wanted him. Hated that she still remembered the warmth of his hand on hers, the late-night whispers, the way he called her my muse even when she felt grey inside.
“I don’t know if love is enough,” she said finally, voice breaking. “Maybe it never was.”
He nodded, a shadow passing over his face. “Maybe not. But some truths… some truths hit harder than heartbreak.”
She wanted to push him away, to slam the door and pretend nothing mattered. And yet…
And yet, slowly, tentatively, she let him sit closer. Not touching but present. His shoulder brushed hers, and it was enough. Enough to remind her that even broken pieces could still exist in the same space. That maybe falling apart hadn’t been the end—it had just been the pause.
For the first time in weeks, she allowed herself to smile. “You’re impossible,” she muttered.
“And you love me for it,” hi tone was soft, matching the smile on his face.
Y/N looked away, biting her lip, the weight of everything between them settling into a quiet ache.
——
They woke up to the same kind of ligh that had leakedthe blinds the night before, softer now, like it didn’t want to be too loud about anything. Y/N blinked, the hoodie bunched under her like a warm, stubborn animal. Hyunjin was still half-curled against the mattress, one arm thrown over the pillow, hair flopping into his face. A pair of his jeans folded neatly on the chair—leftovers from the life they used to have, the small evidence that he’d been here before she let him back in.
He stirred, eyes finding her with that slow, private smile he used when no one else was watching. “Morning, my muse” he said, and the word landed somewhere soft and dangerous in her chest.
She giggled before she could stop herself. “Morning, Hyune,” she teased, sitting up and pulling the hoodie tighter.
He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, rubbing his eyes like he was still deciding whether real life was worth waking up to. “Don’t you mind that I stayed over, better yet in the same bed?”
She took a breath. The answer was obvious in the little tilt of her chin that used to mean yes. “I don’t mind.”
They moved through the apartment with a careful ease. Hyunjin found an old T-shirt and left the sleeves rolled, the kind of comfortable sloppy he always favored. Y/N made coffee—automatic movements. They ate toast at the tiny table, the silence between them not empty but cautious, full of unreadable things.
Halfway through, Hyunjin set his mug down and reached for her face. His fingers skimmed her jaw like he was mapping what might have changed, like memorizing. “Can I?” he asked, almost apologetic.
She barely had time to nod before his thumb caught her chin and tilted her head up. The kiss was soft at first, deliberate. When he pulled back the first time, their foreheads touched. “You taste like coffee,” she breathed, and both of them laughed into the space of it.
He smiled, that crooked thing that used to make everything feel like it mattered. “You look good,” he said, and it was honest and small and more than enough.
They lingered there until the doorbell rang—two quick, familiar notes that passed between them like a test. Y/N wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and called, “It’s open!” more out of habit than ceremony.
The hallway filled with voices the second the door opened. Felix marched in with the same chaotic energy he always carried, like a person who believed in hugs before words. “Sunshine! Hyung!” he sang, dropping onto the couch without waiting for permission. He looked between them with an expression of pure, delighted mischief.
Seungmin followed, more composed but with an eyebrow cocked in the direction of trouble. “So,” he said, setting his bag down with the careful patience of someone who knew exactly how to make a moment itch. “Which one of you forgot to tell the other they were sleeping over?”
Hyunjin’s hand tightened on Y/N’s, just slightly, and Felix caught the small movement like a radar. He leaned forward, his were eyes bright as always. “You two okay?” he asked, voice low and honest. Felix’s habit was to joke until someone admitted the truth; his generosity was not pushing if his question was left unanswered.
Y/N glanced at Hyunjin. He gave her a look that said: you answer. She shrugged—because there were parts of it she didn’t want to label and parts of it that already had names attached to them. “We talked,” she said, and it came out steadier than she felt. “He came by last night.”
Seungmin sat on the arm of the couch, folding himself into the room like he’d owned the space all along. “Aha,” he said, slow and teasing. “So you two are in the ‘we talked and now we’re in dangerous territory’ phase. Dangerous, huh?” He wriggled his fingers like a magician about to reveal a trick. “Should I fetch popcorn or a first-aid kit?”
Felix elbowed him. “Be a menace later, Seung,” he warned, but his eyes were laughing. He gave Hyunjin a look that wasn’t mockery—more like permission wrapped in affection. “You making breakfast for her, or were you planning on charming her with apologies?”
Hyunjin glanced at Y/N, fingers still tracing shapes on the inside of her wrist with hers under the table. “A little of both,” he admitted, and Y/N felt something like a thread stitch itself across the space between them.
After the initial flurry—Felix doing an exaggerated sniff around the kitchen like he expected romance to be sitting in the sugar jar, Seungmin offering pointedly useless suggestions—Felix took his spot at the counter and started helping with plates. He was the kind of friend who knew when to steady and when to pry; today he steadyed. “If you’re thinking about trying again,” he said quietly to Hyunjin, “don’t be an idiot. Talk. Listen. And don’t disappear.”
Hyunjin nodded. “I know.”
Seungmin, of course, couldn’t let a chance to be obnoxious pass. “You better not be playing cottagecore couple and then ghosting her in the span of one week,” he deadpanned, eyes flicking between them. “Hyunjin—don’t make me come back with a written schedule.”
They all laughed, the sound gentle and real. It took the edge off whatever had been raw and left a warm place on the table where honesty could sit without bleeding.
After breakfast, dishes were a given. Hyunjin volunteered—always the one who washed— despite how many times Y/N had refused in the past. The apartment filled with the clink of plates and the running water’s low hum. Y/N curled up on the couch with a throw pulled over her legs, watching him move in the kitchen. He worked careful and quiet, like he was trying to make amends out of ordinary movements.
She let herself breathe while he scrubbed a pan, the small act easing something in her chest. When he finished, Hyunjin wiped his hands and crossed the room without fanfare. He sat on the arm of the couch beside her and kissed her with that slow first peck—a tiny statement that said stay.
She let the peck sit for a second and then leaned into it when it grew, when his hand found the back of her neck and pulled her the rest of the way. The kiss deepened, careful at first, then more certain as if they had never broken up. Hyunjin’s other hand cupped her face, his thumb tracing her cheek. It grew from a peck into something that consumed the edges of them both.
Felix cleared his throat from the kitchen doorway with the comic timing of someone who’d planned the interruption. “I’ll leave you two to your...domestic reconnection,” he said, smiling like a man holding a camera he would never take out. Seungmin just snorted, unable to keep the grin off his face. “Respect,” he said, because even menace bows to the obvious.
When they finally pulled apart, breathless and a little messy, Hyunjin rested his forehead against hers. “You okay?” he asked, voice husky and steady.
She answered with the smallest of smiles. “I am now.”
They didn’t decide anything huge that morning. They didn’t promise forever or draw lines in the sand. But there were words that mattered: apologies that sounded like actions, and actions that promised to be steady. Felix helped clean up with commentary that probably embarrassed them both, and Seungmin threatened to make a timeline if Hyunjin messed up again.
