Jan 16, 2025
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tracks [kim taehyung]
writer: yellow hippo
genre: short story, fan fiction, slice of life
synopsis:
1 train ride. 2 struggling souls. 3 things - Realizations. Friendship. New journey. Where would their last stop be?
character/s: kim taehyung [ace], jade [oc]
story:
• 𝓘 𝓶𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓵𝓲𝓹𝓼 𝓸𝓷 𝓢𝓾𝓷𝓭𝓪𝔂 •
It was just one Sunday when we met. You were sitting there, staring out the window as the buildings pass us by. It was so serene. It was as if you were at peace. I had my own smile then as I stood in front of you. I couldn't hide my fondness of how you looked. So calm. I wish I was too. For moment, at least, I was. Thanks to you.
"Have a seat, miss." Your deep and husky tone brought me out of my trance. I stared at you, paling as I realized i must've looked dumb with a smile on. "Oh! Uhm. Thanks." I stuttered back as I sat in your place, my head down, eyes on your shoes. I couldn't raise my head up, still shy and stunned. Also because my anxiety started to creep back in as people stared when I sat. It was too much. Why is sitting down such a big deal? Should it be? What's wrong with me? But then I hear you again and everything just melts inside me. Your laugh was so cute. It made the smile creep back up my face. My eyes still trained on your feet, I noticed how they kept on moving. You might be having a hard time balancing? The train ride is not a smooth one especially now that the trail kept making zigzags. "Have a seat, mister." I patted the now empty space beside me, hoping that you would take the seat beside mine. You smiled down at me as you occupied the seat. Your smile is so blinding. It leaves me breathless. How can one train ride make you smile? Is it the view? Is it the fact that it's a Sunday, families buzzing on the ride as they make small talk of their one-day vacation? How I wish I could smile genuinely like you.
• 𝗕𝘂𝘁 𝗻𝗼𝗯𝗼𝗱𝘆 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗱 𝗶𝘁, 𝗲𝘅𝗰𝗲𝗽𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂. •
It was so embarrassing how I kept missing my balance. Her eyes were always on my feet. I feel like I'm being judged. Is it too obvious that this was my first train ride ever? I must look so pathetic.
"Are you okay?" The girl asked me after some moments of silence between us. I laughed awkwardly, my sweaty palms hidden behind my neck.
"That obvious, huh?"
"Obvious?" Her eyes, my favorite shade of green that I can't put a name on, stare at me. Question marks all over her face.
"Yeah. Obvious that this was my first train ride?" My voice so low, not wanting anyone else to hear me.
"Oh, it is?" She covers her mouth as she giggles quietly. "Don't worry. It's our secret then."
She smiles so sweetly. No judgement in her voice and eyes. Why couldn't I have met her sooner? Why now when everything is-
"Hey? Don't think too much about it. Everyone has their own first experience on train rides. I did too."
Warm. So warm. The sun from the window feels so warm as she talks about her first train ride when she was in high school. She was fun to talk to. No awkward silence once she remembers another story in the middle of her current one.
"So, where's your stop?" She takes a breath as she finishes her story.
"No where. I mean-" I couldn't stop the laugh that escaped me. Her face when was priceless. And she even dare ask if I was homeless or if I ran away. She was willing to take me in, a total stranger, in her home.
Why did I have to meet her? Why just now? The year has what? More than 300 days and I had to meet her at the most unconventional time of my life.
I told her how I just wanted a look at the city from a different view since my hotel window, although better than any paintings in my hotel room, was getting too repetitive for me. Always the same view of the same city. I told her how suffocated I felt even if I was free to leave anytime. I told her how I wanted to have my windows change views every time I wake up.
"I hate routines." The train arrived at it's next stop. People come and go. "So, your stop?" I added quietly, my eyes passing by her own green ones before coming back to the train windows.
"I get down at the last station. That's where my school is. Just a few minutes of walking after this long ride."
"Last station it is, then."
• '𝓒𝓪𝓾𝓼𝓮 𝓘 𝓭𝓸𝓷'𝓽 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓲𝓽 𝓲𝓷 𝓶𝓮.•
"Last station it is, then."
A joyrider. Must have all the time in the world. Nothing but views to think of.
"A photographer?" I asked the man as I spot his camera bag.
"Hmm. You could say so, yeah, I guess?" Again, I am met with a serene smile.
A click and a flash caught me off guard. My eyes see green spots for a moment as I try to blink away the blurriness.
"Sorry about that." He chuckles as he puts his camera away.
"You shouldn't have done that. Nothing worth to see here." I gesture over my face, my palms sweating as I try to laugh my anxiety away. Not here Not now. Not even after the people has moved on from the quick flash of light from our seat. Not ever, please.
"Hey. Are you ok, miss? I'm really sorry. I just wanted a candid shot of you because-"
"Yes, I'm ok. Just not used with cameras and all. Those things hate me that they almost always break after having me as their target."
"How come? Well, I think my camera likes you. Not broken at all. See?" He takes out his camera and offers it to me.
He shows me the photo he took of me, as well as his hotel room window view. He showed me a picture of him with his dog. A picture of him and his older brothers. Pictures of other places he's been to. Beautiful. Everything he took a picture of was beautiful. Even the one he took of me. I looked normal. I looked surprised, but happy. Like I had no worries aside from the butt sore I would get from sitting down from this long train ride.
He took his camera back. He stared down at it on his lap, his serene smile never leaving his lips as my candid shot reflects on the screen. I can't help but smile as well. I laughed lightly. At least someone appreciates me even in an unconventional way.
• 𝗜𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗯𝗲 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 '𝗰𝗮𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗹𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿. •
Another stop up ahead and we fell in the most comfortable silence I have ever felt. My eyes shift to the books on her lap and some paper peaking in the middle pages of the book. Interesting. Mythology?
"Which program are you in?" I pointed towards her stack of books on her lap as I asked her.
"Literature student. And film. I'm actually taking two majors-" A sigh and a content smile on her face. "-got in both programs for being a scholar since I was younger."
"Whoa. You must be smart then. Congrats!" I offered her my hand and can't help but chuckle at how tiny her hands are. Tiny and soft. So fragile.
"What's so funny?" Her nose is scrunched up as she hits my shoulders lightly.
"Ah nothing. Your hands. They're just so small. So delicate like some kind of petal. If you squeeze too much, it might break."
She opens her hands and stretches her fingers, massaging them, a small pout on her lips.
"They'll grow longer you'll see."
"Wanna bet?" I asked, smirking her way. "Once you've written a book or published any kind of film, I should be one of the first few to see the finished product. Call?"
Her face falls and takes a deep breath.
"That might not happen anytime, mister. I might die of old age even before doing anything out of my dreams." She looks down her shoes and I noticed a tear drop on her book.
Looking at her slumped shoulders, I could not help myself from rubbing circles on her, hoping it could somehow calm her down. But her shoulders shiver even more now, hiccups irregularly escaping her every breath.
"Sorry. I'm so sorry about this. God what's gotten into me. Must be because I only got a few hours of sleep. So many papers due this month. Professors bombarding us with papers before letting us actually breathe for the summer."
I offer her my handkerchief as she starts rubbing her at her eyes angrily.
"Eyeliner-" She points at her lids. "I might get this dirty."
"Nah. You might need it for later as well. Like you said. Summer. We can't have you sweating. I need my subject all fresh and pretty." I put the handkerchief just on top of her books and look down at our shoes instead, humming quietly as she wipes her tears away.
"This is nothing. I am nothing. I won't be able to agree with the bet even if I wanted to."
"Hey. It's ok. You're ok. It might be a long train ride-" I chuckle as her eyes crinkle from giggling. "-but you'll be something. You are already something. No. Someone. A someone worth the wait at the end of the ride. You'll make it something. I trust that. At least have my trust when you feel like nothing, alright?" I point at my handkerchief as I pat her head.
'You are already being something by not running away from your dreams. You already are making something. A progress that I crave for myself.'
The train chugs on as we roll back to another silence.
• 𝓦𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓴 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓪𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓯𝓮𝓮𝓽? •
I kept my stare down, afraid of the judging eyes all around me - beside me - if I look back up. I look like a panda. Or worse, a clown. Great. I just ruined my make up. I have no time to retouch since I have reporting on my first class. What a reporter. A clown. An ugly clown who has nothing on her once the 'train ride' ends. It was always nothing.
Fighting for what I want has always been useless. I just made myself into the nothing that I am and will always be. Why did I even bother accepting the scholarship program? I won't be the writer that I want to be nor the film director that I always dream of being. I'll crash in an office job after graduation just to earn for a living. Who am I kidding. My dreams can't feed my family. I'm so selfish for wanting this when I won't be anything by then.
I can't bring myself to look up. He's something at least. He's traveling everywhere and taking the places he's visited with him.
"You're the something between us, mister." My head still down, but I saw him turn away from the window and towards me. A hum. But why does it sound so hopeless? So lost? My eyes veer away from my shoes to his. Black leather shoes. So shiny. Reminds me of his eyes.
"Something. Huh." He stands as I feel someone else take his place beside. Did I scare him Off? Only then did I look up and see him standing in front of me, he smiles down at the old lady now in his place. I smile at the lady as well as she nods and smiles towards us both.
"I might be something to someone, but I'm nothing to myself." He sighs, his smile turning melancholy as I stare up. I was about to contradict him but he surprises me as he suddenly kneels from where he stands. I avoid his eyes by looking behind me. A slight rain has made the window all blurry to see outside. I feel a sudden tug on my shoes and I look down at him.
"I'm running away from everything and making myself fall into nothing. But you? You're running into something. You might feel like it's nothing, but the fact that you're running towards something. Well. That's something. Something from the nothing like me who runs away from everything." He whispers low, only for my ears to hear.
He stands back up as I stare down at my shoes, knots tied perfectly in place, not knowing of what to make of what he just said.
• 𝗔𝗻𝗱 𝗺𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗼𝗻. •
It's been silent for the past stops now. Both of us stuck with our own thoughts. But it's not awkward nor uncomfortable. Just a little heavy on the heart because just one more stop and it's the end of the track. What more is there to talk about? She said so herself that there won't be any betting. Her dreams and mine all getting further away as the train chugs forward. At least she fought somehow. I just ran and hid for as long as I can. But this has to end. Every ride has to end.
"So." She cleared her throat as the final announcement for her stop is heard over the speakers. "This is my stop, mister?"
"Ace Wilson. And please, drop the 'mister'. I graduated just a few months ago. Not as old as you think." I chuckled as I held my hands towards her, offering help her with the books.
"Jade Myers. Or just Jade. Thanks." She smiled as she put a book on my waiting palms. "Are you sure I'm not messing your schedule?" She smiles up at me, her height reaching just above my shoulders. What a tiny thing and yet she is fighting a battle. Winner or not, it's the effort that counts, right?
"Schedule? What schedule? Like I said. I'm just running away from everything. Might as well take a break from all that before I run further. There's no rush for me."
She leads the way. The road, or rather the gravel path, making scrunching noises every stomp of our foot. It was enough noise to cover the silence we've wrapped our self into.
• 𝓛𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓢𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓻𝓼 𝓓𝓸 •
(click for song inspiration of this story)
I look up at him, my eyes squinting close because of the sun, as we near my school gates.
Just a name and his little stories. That's all there is to him. Questions he will leave though. Questions that I will be facing after losing my fight.
Will he start his own battles when I end mine? Would his run bring him somewhere? Would I meet him again someday when I start running away, or 'if' I run away? Will I stop where he is if I do run? What then? Why stop?
I may know his name, but he will remain a stranger to me.
"Thanks again, Ace." I grab my book from him as I wave goodbye, entering the school gate. He stands there, his serene smile back from when I first saw him. Back from where we started.
Strangers, with only names.
• 𝗜𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘀𝗮𝘄 𝗺𝗲 𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗸 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗮𝘆? •
I wish I rode a different train cart. Or maybe I should've never rode a train in the first place. I could've ridden a plane and flew back to where people were waiting for me. I could've stayed home and not get lost. I could've continued fighting even if I see myself losing. At least I fought and lost with no regrets. There is harm in trying, but there is also knowledge. Knowing that you fought though you knew your fate is a win in itself. You at least fought. Your fall would not be in vain.
Why did I have to meet Jade in the most inconvenient time. She left me with regrets. But also a new found determination to fight. I will keep running. But this time, I will run towards my dream. I'll fight if I have to.
• 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭 𝓸𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓼𝓽 𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓹𝓼 𝓪𝓬𝓻𝓸𝓼𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓻𝓸𝓸𝓶.•
The thought of just running away keeps climbing up my 'to-do list' once I graduate. Should I really just run from the reality my family wants to thrust upon me and go for what I want instead? Yes. Yes I do want to run. I want to be what I want to be. I want to continue being selfish. I want to keep fighting. Is the fight and the run worth all that I'll leave behind?
My heels clack on the corridor as I run to my first class. Looking like a clown for my smudged make up, but who the fuck cares? I've decided to fight. The smudge got nothing on the blood I will shed for my win. I can always wipe it all away.
A serene smile left my own lips as I dug his handkerchief out of my pocket. Yes, I can always wipe away the blood shed and run.
I want to feel the wind on my face and fingertips. I want the shiver of excitement. I want to feel. I want to be free.
And I will be, because I'm running away.
I open the door to the classroom and I know that my run has begun. No turning back. The whistle started the race.
I'm running away.
• 𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓶𝓮, 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘄𝗲 𝗶𝗳 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝓽𝓸𝓰𝓮𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻? •
Strangers.
Having different tracks, but the ride would end at the same station. Not once but twice would their fates collide. But for now one train is moving onward and the other stops at a station. But they will again meet at the end of the track.
For now, they are simply Jade Myers and Ace Wilson.
that last fight scene in iron man/captain america: casualties of war...................the denouement of the war....when they used analepsis to amplify the emotions and parallels to other moments of their mutual past emphasising the depth of the relationship that has been utterly, irreparably torn apart in this war......the inherent bitter, astringent symbolism of them fighting in the ruins of their home in a scene that highlights their individual hamartia.....they used to bring out the best in each other but now they know each other so thoroughly and wholly they can bring out the very worst.
steve taught tony so much of what he knows about fighting and at the time the thought would never even think about crossing his mind that tony would use those moves against him....and tony wouldn't even for a minute consider using them against steve.......but now, in the ruins of where they used to live, harmonious and together, they fight with their old family picture hung, torn, in the background, the fight not in the armour and with the shield, as iron man and captain america - teammates on the legendary avengers, but as tony stark and steve rogers, friends.
Like Strangers (pt.2)
Part 1 Part 3
A/N:I do not own the picture
Summary: After having given up hope on your marriage, both you and Jongin come to the conclusion that divorce is the only option. But at the poking and prodding of your friends, you decide to try and give it one last try.
I want a divorce.
The weight of your words hit you both at the same time. He stared at you with his mouth hung open, eyes wide as if you’d just slapped him.
You hadn’t really comprehended the meaning of your words until a few seconds after they left your lips. You hadn’t planned to wake up and suddenly declare the end of your marriage. You hadn’t even thought twice before you said them, really. And yet…
Call it rash, call it foolish, but you were glad it was out. Maybe now Jongin would actually try making an effort to see the shit show your marriage had become.
You continued eyeing one another in silence, each one daring the other to speak up first. It’d been a while since you’d held his gaze for so long and you tried your best to maintain it.
Finally, the man in front of you broke eye contact and let out a scoff. “Very funny. Aren’t we a bit too old for games, Y/N?” He rolled his eyes at you like you were being ridiculous.
You felt a cold fist enclose around your heart.
Whatever possible sliver of regret there could have possibly been over your announcement disappeared altogether. You took a deep breath, deciding right then and there that you were done watching what you said around him for fear of disappointing him. As far as you were concerned, you wouldn’t have to worry about him playing the disappointing role for much longer.
“I want a divorce,” you repeated with a poker face. You could see your defiance bothered him as he began to fidget, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
“Enough,” Jongin growled, “I already said this isn’t funny.”
“And I’m not laughing,” you shrugged.
You raised your arms above your head to stretch out your sore muscles. You could barely recognize yourself with how nonchalant you were being. Is this what hitting rock bottom was like?
“I’m done being put down by you, Jongin. I’m done feeling lonely and unsupported in my own home. I don’t deserve this,” you stared up at him.
He looked away and refused to respond, instead fixing his gaze on the wall beside your head. Surely he had to know what an asshole he was, right? A divorce, to be honest, really had been a long time coming.
You breathed a sigh at his silence and stood up on your feet. The sooner you got to your feet and made a few calls, the sooner you’d be out of his hair.
As you moved to brush past him, his hand shot out and clutched around your arm. The pressure of his fingers around your wrist was enough to make you wince. “I don’t support you? Are you fucking kidding?” he spat, pulling you closer to him and leaning in until you two were practically nose-to-nose, “How do you think we afford this place? Who the fuck do you think takes out loans so that you can go to school?”
Your body began to tremble. You could feel your guard crumbling. Your heart felt like it was about to break.
“Do you know the shit I—”
“Shut up.” You couldn’t breathe, his dark smirk was tearing into your skin and making your bones shake.
“—to put up with to give us a life? I work overtime—”
“Stop it.”
“—and yet here you are, ungrateful like always, threatening me with divorce like it means anyth—”
“Enough!”
The venom that dripped from your shout finally sliced through the air that was suffocating you, strong enough to both silence him and allow you to take a deep breath.
You could tell he was stunned. Taking this as an opportunity, you wrenched your arm out of his grasp and pushed him away with all your might. He stumbled, the back of his knees hitting the couch and causing him to fall onto it.
The tables were turned on the usual height difference now that he was seated. You loomed over him, Jongin staring up at you for a change. Your angry figure cast a dark shadow over his face. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he gulped uncomfortably, but he made no move to get up.
You had felt so empty a few minutes ago but Jongin just had this power to rile you up. Rage has begun to swell in your body and the only to relieve it is to let it all out. You were so sick of him constantly talking over you, of telling you how to feel. You wanted to be heard. You deserved to be heard.
You ran a hand through your hair messily before settling to give him a hard look that sent a chill down his spine. “It’s my turn to speak and it’s your turn to listen. You owe me this much.”
It was difficult to decipher the rage of emotions in his eyes and so you waited. In a few moments, the storm inside him settled and he nodded, his gaze never leaving yours. “Alright.”
You took in a deep breath. “Jongin, we’re not happy. We haven’t been happy for a very long time. It’s like…we don’t know each other anymore. We don’t fit anymore.
We fight all the time. We go to bed angry and wake up even angrier than before. And I’m tired of being angry. I’m tired of feeling alone. Even when we’re together, you’re not with me. You put me down, you shame me for my opinions and make me feel silly for having them. I can’t talk about myself without the fear that you’ll call me inconsiderate. I can’t ask you to spend time with me without you saying I don’t value your job.”
You let out a broken laugh and your husband visibly flinched at the sound.
“Jongin, I fucking hate your job,” tears well up in your eyes and you now look away from him, refusing to look so weak, “I hate it so much. You’re not you anymore, you’re not my Jongin. You’re vain and you’re cold and mean. You say cruel things deliberately to hurt me. You derive this sick sort of satisfaction from it. Is that what I am to you now? Someone to take your stress out on?”
You were full on sobbing now. “I didn’t ask you to do so much for me. I never asked you to pay for my school or to buy me things. But you said since we were married, we shared each other’s burdens. Saying things like how I should be grateful now, the past you would have never held that against me. I feel suffocated just being around you, like someone is holding me by my throat and letting in just enough air to survive. This isn’t living, it’s slowly dying. Am I supposed to be grateful for this? Should I thank you?
I don’t want you. I don’t want anything from you, never again. Do you know what I want? I want to be able to go outside and breath without the burden of having you as my husband. I want to go to school and reach my dream without feeling indebted to you. I want to be free.”
Your voice eventually becomes overcome by your sobbing. You shut your eyes, your hands wiping the tears away roughly. You held your breath for a few seconds in an attempt to calm your heart and a loud hiccup fell through your lips instead. “I want a divorce,” you whispered one more time.
The sound of Jongin shifting reaches you but you don’t open your eyes until his hands fell on top of your own and moved them from your face.
Jongin was at a complete and utter loss. He’d never seen you so broken. Had he done that? How had it all gotten so bad?
His hands squeezed yours tightly before lifting your face to look at you, really look at you. Your eyes were what really killed him. Red and swollen, he’s never seen them more exhausted. The pain in them sent a shiver down his spine.
He finally shakes his head in agreement as another uncontrollable hiccup leaves your body. “Alright, let’s get a divorce.”
You don’t know how long the two of you stared at each other as the agreement rang through you, but you eventually found yourself in your bedroom with a small suitcase sitting open on the floor.
Jongin had been quick to tell you that you didn’t need to leave, that he’d just rent a hotel room and stay there if you really needed him to. However, you saw no point in that. The lease was under his name anyway, it only made sense for you to be the one to leave.
“Don’t worry about it,” you’d told him, “I’ll just call Chanyeol and ask to stay at his place for a few weeks until I get on my feet. He still has that spare room from when his roommate moved out.”
Your husband, or rather, your soon to be ex-husband had scowled at that. He’d never really liked Chanyeol to begin with so you always tried to appease him by not bringing him often. Given the circumstances, however, you no longer felt the need to.
So instead, Jongin had no other choice but to sigh and comply.
Packing wasn’t too difficult. You’d grabbed the essentials, making sure to remember small things like your toothbrush and facewash. There was a sense of rush that you couldn’t help feeling. You didn’t know the true gravity of your decision or what awaited you past this, but you were ready to find out.
Jongin watched you like a hawk as you darted back and forth across the room to drop things into your suitcase. It made you a bit uncomfortable but you ignored it, instead focusing on your mental list of things to pack.
When you finally managed to close your suitcase after multiple methods of sitting on it, you roll it towards the doorway, your coat in hand. Jongin let out a cough in order to get your attention. He’d be lying if he said your energy isn’t hurting him.
“I, uh, thought you’d at least have breakfast before you left. You know, kind of like a last supper kind of thing? Well in this case, last breakfast, I guess.” He begins to fidget again and you couldn’t help smiling. You knew this was weird and you were happy that he was at least being civil.
Despite how much you want to get out of the house, you sit down at the kitchen table. Jongin opens the fridge and pulls out a few ingredients for pancakes. You tried not to raise your eyebrows at this. If someone had asked, you wouldn’t have been able to say the last time Jongin had actually made something for you.
You bit your tongue and simply watched him mix the batter and heat up the pan. His hair had gotten too long and he was due for a trim, you noted, as a few strands fell in his eyes for the umpteenth time. Within half an hour, a large plate of pancakes was in front of you an you somewhat gaped at the large stack.
“Sorry,” Jongin grumbled, “It’s been a while since I made them.”
You shook your head. “It’s fine. Nothing beats your pancakes anyway.”
The two of you fell into a comfortable silence, only the sound of forks scrapping plates filling the kitchen. The breakfast practically melted in your mouth. You weren’t lying, Jongin really was good at cooking.
You dazed off eventually, staring at your remaining food until Jongin clearing his throat brought you back to reality.
“I just,” he shifted in his chair, “I don’t really know what the right thing to say is after something like this. I’m sorry I’ve changed so much, Y/N.”
You pressed your lips together before speaking, telling yourself you had to be the bigger person. “We’ve both changed, Jongin. We’ve both turned into these ugly, pathetic people that I can’t even recognize anymore. We’re like strangers now, it’s time we deal with it head on.”
Neither of you said anything more on the matter, so you decided it was time you got up to leave. He walked behind you to the door as you put on your shoes, telling him you’d contact him about the divorce papers soon.
You were halfway out the door when you realized you still had your ring.
You glanced at the gem on your finger, almost having forgotten it was there. You hadn’t taken it off in so long that it felt a part of you.
Turning around, you gave Jongin a strained laugh. “Sorry, I almost forgot.”
“You don’t have to return it, its fi—” but it was already off and in his palm before he could even finish the sentence.
“Don’t be silly. It was your mother’s. Give it to someone else when you’re ready.”
You two looked at each other one more time. Neither of you knows what the other is thinking but the air around you changes and you shiver.
“Goodbye, Jongin.”
“Goodbye…Y/N.”
You arrived at Chanyeol’s doorstep feeling strange and out of place. You’d tried calling him beforehand to ask him if you could stay, but he liked to sleep in and hadn’t picked up.
After ringing the doorbell, you bounced on you feet uncomfortably and prayed that he was home. If not, you’d have to think of a back-up plan.
The door opened after a few minutes to reveal a disheveled tall man in pajama pants and a stained t-shirt, still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.
“Y/N?” he squinted sleepily, “What are you doing here? Why do you have a suitcase?”
And then it hit you like a slap across the cheek.
“Well, uh,” your lip wobbled ever so slightly, “I just ended my marriage, Yeol.”
Like Strangers (pt.1)
Part 2 Part 3
A/N:I do not own the picture
Summary: After having given up hope on your marriage, both you and Jongin come to the conclusion that divorce is the only option. But at the poking and prodding of your friends, you decide to try and give it one last try.
Your plane finally touched down in Korea at about three in the morning and you tightly squeezed your eyes shut as the pilot’s final announcements began, resting your head against the window. The flight had been, to put it lightly, a long and uncomfortable one. The bratty, snot-nosed kid seated directly behind you had kept kicking your seat the entire time, the food had been cold and inedible, your neck was sore from an ill-timed nap and you could feel the signs of an oncoming migraine. Honestly, you couldn’t be home soon enough.
Home. The thought of it weighed heavily on your heart and you shifted in your seat, absentmindedly tracing the buckle of your seat belt as you allowed your thoughts to carry your attention away from the announcements.
Your short trip away hadn’t gone as well as you had hoped. It was supposed to have been an opportunity to get away from everything for just a few days—away from your boring regimen, away your studies and, as much as you hated to admit, away from your marriage. You had just wanted a small break, preferably at a sandy beach under the hot sun with cocktails beside you. It was supposed to be a way to distract you from thinking too much.
Unfortunately, your entire stay at the resort had been cold, gloomy and filled with an unbearable sense of loneliness and guilt. With the weather not on your side, all you could really do was think, think, think.
You couldn’t help but feel like a horrible wife for having tried to run from Jongin. The regret of not having tried to talk things out with him more that night before you’d just got up and left had haunted you the entire time.
You were both dreading and eager to confront him the second the two of you had a chance to sit down and talk. The miserable trip had left you with an uneasiness that scared you.
To be honest, it wasn’t just the last time you’d seen him that had been bugging you. Things hadn’t been well between the two of you for a while.The last few months had been increasingly hard to deal with and you had to admit that it had taken a serious toll on your marriage.
Between your school tuition and the bills, as well as Jongin’s growing taste for a lavish lifestyle, money had become tight over the years. You’d thought that things would have been fixed when Jongin had told you he’d had gotten an office job at a prestigious company. The money was good, so what would there left to fight about other than whose turn it was to wash the dishes?
Yet really, his new job had practically put your marriage in a coffin. It had started to leave him with a shorter temper and an unwillingness to so much as interact with you unless it involved convincing you to attend a work function with him.
Everything you did seemed to set him off. If you were speaking to him, you were smothering him. If you were resting from a long day, you were taking his hard work for granted. And you, having developed a short fuse yourself from months of arguing over the same things, became more sensitive—even the small details that had never bothered you about the man you loved began to annoy you. His late responses to your messages, the amount of importance he placed on his work, the way he brushed off plans to spend quality time together in favor of sucking up to his boss, it had all begun to be too much for you.
Nightly screaming matches over “this” and “that” would predictably end in you locking yourself in your bedroom and him storming out of the house to god knows where and returning at odd hours with alcohol on his breath.
You had pleaded with him to at least try to understand you, to hear you out. Yet time and time again he’d meet your eyes with silence.
A few days ago, the latest fight between the two of you had been the last straw.
You’d gotten back from a long day of classes. You were in your second year of medical school and were having your ass handed to you as of late. The library had more or less become your makeshift home. The feeling of insecurity that you weren’t ready for next year’s transition from lectures to the clinical world as a third year student would gnaw at your insides, growing stronger on a daily basis.
Fortunately,an upcoming holiday meant you’d been given a few days off to stew in your insecurities without the fear that any form of relaxation meant that you were procrastinating on studying for an upcoming exam.
You’d slumped down onto the sofa the minute you stepped foot inside the house, covering your face with a pillow and hoping that the feeling of doom over your grades would cease.
You heard the sound of keys jingling shortly after.
Jongin was home. You heard him walk in and stop by the door, probably to take off his shoes.
“Sorry babe, I don’t think I have the energy to make dinner tonight. Can we get take-out instead?” You muffled through the pillow, practically inhaling the pillowcase.
You could hear him groan from the hallway. “Y/N, I’ve worked hard all day. The least you could do is have a meal waiting for when I get home.”
Your eyes twitched in irritation. Was he seriously expecting you to play the role of a wife from the 50′s? You tossed the pillow away and sat up, narrowing your eyes at him as he entered the living room.
“The least I could do? Do you even hear yourself right now? How about you stop to think that I’ve had a tough day too...Jongin, I’m exhausted right now.”
This had become so typical of him. He never so much as asked you about your day anymore. Before, he’d ask you about what you were learning and, even though he could barely comprehend what you’d answer, he’d chuckle at your passionate tone and tell you how proud he was.
You’d given up hopes of having a normal conversation with him lately and had stopped mentioning your day altogether. Every time you so much as hinted at your tough schoolwork or strict professors, he took it as whining and would go into a whole spiel about how it couldn’t possibly compare to the level of stress his job was giving him.
Jongin had always been your rock. These days, he just made you feel as though you were being weighed down by a rock instead.
Jongin scoffed as he unbuttoned his jacket and loosened his tie. “Can we not get into this right now? My boss has been riding my ass all day and I don’t need your usual dramatics adding to my headache, alright?”
You felt your face heating up as your blood began to boil.
“What is wrong with you? You never put value into anything I do.” You stood up and crossed your arms, walking closer to him until you were standing less than a foot away so you were properly in his face.
“And what exactly is it that you do?” you shrunk away from his sharp voice, he’d never spoken in that tone to you before, “because all I see is me going through hell to pay for your tuition so that you can have some kind of future.”
“Face it, Y/N, you’re nothing without me," he growled.
You were frozen in shock, the usual scent of alcohol on his breath making you nauseous—it had become so familiar to you that you had trouble remembering when he last smelled like himself. Was this really how Jongin saw you? The man who’d stood up in front of your family and friends and had sworn to love and respect you forever?
Whoever this man was, he flashed you a cruel smirk when he saw the hurt expression on your face. “Not too quick to speak when it’s the truth, huh?”
He turned away from you and walked into the kitchen, leaving you to stand there staring at the wall. The sound of the fridge opening knocked you out of your trance and you took in a deep breathe. Saying something else right now would set him off and make this an actual fight. And you were so tired of fighting.
Since when had you started walking on eggshells around your own husband?
You ran a hand over your face, moaning. You needed a real break, not just the one your school had given you. If you didn’t get one now…there was no telling what you’d do.
You followed Jongin into the kitchen and saw him seated at the kitchen table, wolfing down a poorly-made sandwich. He didn’t make a move to say anything and instead continued eating as if the last five minutes had never happened.
It was easy for him to do that because this form of interaction had become normal for the two of you.
“I’m…going away for a bit,” you whispered, the usual confidence in your voice having taken a beating from his earlier comments.
He stopped chewing and raised an eyebrow, but kept quiet.
“Just for a few days. I think,” you sighed, “I think we need a break. Just some time to catch our breath and be in a space where we're not always arguing.”
You braced yourself for his response and allowed yourself to be hopeful. This was it. He’d go down on his knees and he’d admit to what an absolute dick he’d been. You’d apologize for not understanding his own problems more and he’d apologize for not having been there for you. Things would work themselves out.
Except he didn’t say any of that. Instead he shrugged. “I have a company party in two days. I can’t go alone, what would the CEO think?”
Your heard your heart shatter and you willed back the tears. He didn’t care. Jongin didn’t care that your marriage had gotten so bad that you wanted to leave. He just cared about his precious job and a CEO you’d never even personally met.
“I-I’m sure you’ll manage. You always do.” You forced a smile and left him to pack, wishing you could clutch the broken pieces of your heart together and take away the pain.
You’d walked out the door with a passport, suitcase and a weight on your shoulders and now, you’d be going home the same way.
The cue to open your seat belts brought you back to reality. You sprung to your feet and quickly grabbed a hold of your bag. Sticking out your tongue at the devil child behind you and ignoring the nasty look his parent threw at you, you fast-walked off the plane.
Immediately, you reached for your phone and dialed your husband. You’d informed Jongin when you’d be arriving back from your trip after you’d gathered up the courage to call him yesterday. He’d told you that he’d be there to pick you up. Things were terse between you two and he’d sounded so cold over the phone, but you needed to believe that he’d be waiting for you.
You needed to have faith in your husband.
Your call immediately hit his voicemail so you sent him a text telling you that you were going to head over to baggage claim before meeting up with him.
By the time you had collected your belongings and had looked around for him to no avail for a good thirty minutes, you realized he didn’t come and had probably forgot.
“Of course,” you muttered bitterly. You were a fool to have expected anything different.
You shrugged on your coat and wrapped a scarf around yourself before braving the cold and heading outside the airport.
Fortunately, there was a single taxi cab waiting just around the corner. You rushed towards it and reached out to open the door only for someone else to beat you to the handle.
Great. Just great. There wasn’t another cab or bus in sight. You’d have to make a call to a taxi company and hope it sent one your way quickly.
You hung your head tiredly as the man in front of you apologized. You shook your head at him, refusing to make eye contact.
“Don’t worry about it,” you grunted through your teeth, “I’ll just get the next one.”
The man looked around, unsure. “Doesn’t seem like there’s another cab around. I don’t want to be responsible for a pretty lady wondering around in the cold when it’s this dark out, you mind splitting it?”
You raised you head in surprise and were met with the brightest smile you’d ever seen and a jawline to die for. “I’ll even let you get home first. It’s not like I have anywhere to be at this hour,” he added in a friendly tone.
You returned his smile, your heart warming at his kindness. “Thanks, that’d actually be really great.”
He opened the door and let you get inside first, sliding in after you. You gave your address to the driver before settling in, unsure of whether to say anything to the man next to you. He was dressed really nicely in what you could only assume to be expensive clothing and carried himself with an air of confidence.
He must have read your mind because he stuck out his hand, absolutely beaming. “I’m Jongdae, by the way.”
You shook his hand and introduced yourself “Are you usually this nice, Mr.Jongdae?”
He snorted playfully, “Oh yeah, this is a regular Wednesday for me. Pushing strangers into sharing a ride with me, I’m just desperate for human interaction.”
His smile got even wider at your pout and you stared at him in awe, how could a man be so cheerful and have such a wonderful smile?
Throughout the drive, he tried to make you more comfortable by asking where you were coming in from and whether you were simply visiting Korea or staying for good. When you told him you were back from a school break, he asked about your career plans and genuinely seemed curious.
You had to admit it was nice that someone was actually interested in what you were doing. It had been so long since you had freely talked about yourself to anyone other than your classmates without feeling shame that you hadn’t realized how shy you had become.
When you had blushed at his astonished praises after you’d told him you were a medical student, he nudged you playfully and let out a quiet whine, making you laugh. “Hey, don’t be like that. You should be proud, it’s really a big deal that you’re gonna be out there saving lives one day. No point in selling yourself short.”
You decided that you liked Jongdae, he was like a personal hype man. You found yourself really enjoying your conversation with him and didn’t even notice that you’d already arrived to your home until the driver turned towards you and asked for his payment.
Embarrassed at not having paid attention to the road and slightly disappointed that the two of you hadn’t gotten around to talking about him, you scrambled for your wallet.
Jongdae put his hand on your shoulder to stop you and shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, I’ve got it. Besides,” he tapped the ring on your finger, “your husband is probably going crazy waiting for you. You shouldn’t keep him waiting.”
“Thank you!” you exclaimed, “but this really isn’t necessary. I have the money, I can pay.”
He waved you away. “I have a feeling we’ll meet again, Y/N. Maybe I’ll let you pay me back then.”
The taxi cab drove away, leaving you staring off into the direction it had gone with a grin. Really, who’d have thought you’d meet someone so nice?
Turning back to face your door, you felt your stomach twisting and turning, unsure of how to face Jongin after practically walking out for a week. Was he even home? Sleeping in his office when he was mad wasn’t too unusual for him, perhaps he’d been more angry than you’d thought when you’d spoken over the phone.
You entered your home, turning the lights on in the hall as you did. You jumped in the middle of taking off your shoes when you heard the sound of glass breaking. You immediately rushed to find Jongin stumbling through beer bottles littering the hardwood floor.
“H-hey,” he hicupped, greeting you with bloodshot eyes.
“Jongin...” You didn’t know why you were still disappointed after all this time, but you were.
“I don’t wanna hear it,” he said, grabbing your shoulders for balance, “I’m too tired to deal with you right now.”
Instead of being there for you like he’d said, he’d chosen chicken and beer. He didn’t want to deal with you like always. God, why did it still hurt? You should be used to it by now.
Not saying anything else, you grabbed onto him and helped him to the bed. He uttered a lot of unintelligible protests so you gave up on undressing him. Instead, you urged him to crawl inside and covered him with the thick blankets. Wiping his forehead with a warm towel, you left him to fall asleep.
You went back downstairs and began cleaning up the scattered bottles and leftover food, turning off whatever movie he’d been in the middle of watching. You grabbed a pillow and blanket from the closet and laid down on the sofa.
You stared at the ceiling in silence for a while, only the ticking of the clock on the drawer next to you keeping you company.
You don’t know when or how you started crying, but suddenly you found yourself choking on your own sobs. When did your marriage get so bad? Why hadn’t you done more to save it?
You were in hysterics, crying into your pillow so that Jongin wouldn’t hear you and come downstairs. Not that he would anyway, you couldn’t remember the last time he’d been there for you.
The familiar feeling of loneliness washed over you. You were alone. You were married, your husband was sleeping in the same house as you, but you were alone.
When you had been on your trip, the time away from your husband had allowed you to isolate this feeling and you had thought that you’d simply been feeling it because you were physically alone. But clearly, it was exactly the same even with him here. You were always alone.
You cried your heart out until the tears ran out and exhaustion put you to sleep.
You didn’t wake up until you heard footsteps down the stairs. You opened your eyes to see Jongin standing in front of you.
You sat up, refusing to meet his gaze the same way he’d done time and time again.
The tension in the air was thick and it was clear that Jongin was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. A dark part of you was satisfied. Good.
He cleared his throat. “Listen, about last night—”
You cut him off. He didn’t get to speak. He was always the one talking, never the one listening. God be damned, it was your turn.
Your head snapped up. “Jongin,” you said in the most monotone voice you’d ever heard yourself speak, “I want a divorce.”
I have blocked three different people on here in the last 24 hours all for completely different reasons what an interesting streak I’m on
Skilled Pop music artist from Perth O'Neill Fernandes Launches A Mesmerizing Track 'Like Strangers'