Flashbacks & Echoes || K,Mg
Love was the cigarette. He was the lighter. And you… you were the fire.
non-Idol! Kim Mingyu x fem! Reader
5.5k words, Fluff, Angst, Romance; Inspired by Taylor Swift's Red; set in Paris
Beware of: swearing & cigarette smoking (I got carried away oops)
Ella's Notes: My man's the prettiest in Paris <3. He also helped me kick writer's block in the booty, so we are BACK IN BUSINESS! Can't wait to see what you guys think of this hehe~~
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December 2025
That’s a bad habit, you know.
You could hear the exact cadence of his voice in your mind, the dissapointment-tinged tone dripping in concern. Digusting, skin-crawling, shiver-inducing concern.
Damn right it is, you think. Damn fucking right it is.
The click of the lighter interrupted your thoughts, the cigarette settled comfortably between your lips as the flame lit up the end, your practiced breathing igniting your lungs with the familiar acrid smoke and the equally acrid high.
The balcony of your Paris apartment had long since become well-acquainted with your habit of snaking cigarettes into your mouth at the end of any given day. From your spot against the railing, you could see the entire city laid out in front of you like a maze of cobblestoned streets and thinly veiled history, an ode to the person it made you and a lament to the person it didn’t.
You’re overthinking again.
You’d be smoking with me, hypocrite.
The words caught in your throat while the smoke from your next drag didn’t, escaping your mouth in a billowing haze and a bone-weary sigh.
Just admit that you missed me.
August 2024
The first time you met Kim Mingyu, he had just driven a Maserati down one of Paris’ few dead-end streets, the gorgeous black beast purring to a stop just short of the back wall of what was possibly some upscale and likely old-but-restructured apartment complex.
Unfortunately (but to your eternal amusement), people often ended up stuck in this particular dead-end, scratching their heads as to why their GPS had led them astray. Therefore, it had equally as often come down to you to scurry out of the leather store you worked at part-time, to politely bemoan the labyrinth that was Paris and help the drivers be back on their way again. You’d met a lot of people this way - families with crying children who just wanted ice cream, businesswomen with ice-cold auras, models with impeccable posture, frazzled PhD students with hand jitters and even a dog-sitter with an oddly sentient Bernese Mountain Dog once. But this…
You’d watched through the glass of the leather shop as the owner of the car stepped out, eyes darting nervously from his phone to the lack of road to drive down further. Of course, even back then, there had been no immunity to the man that he had been. Tinged sepia in your memories, you still saw him as clear as you had on the actual day- tall, subtly fashionable, face perfect in that every type of sunglasses suit me kind of way; his stance and movements so effortless it almost annoyed the crap out of you. How dare somebody be so settled into their mortal skin despite the unease clearly emanating off their unfairly broad shoulders?
The leather shop was the only shop that happened to be open that early on Saturdays, and so he had walked in with an apologetic (and still god.damned.handsome) smile and a translate app asking you if you spoke even a lick of English.
To his (adorably evident) relief, you responded in English. That was all it took for him to toss you a toothy grin, introduce himself and immediately launch into an explanation about how he was currently ‘stealing’ the Maserati from his brother, and he was supposed to take it back to the ‘family estate’ near Versailles but he had been driving the panther of a car in circles around Bastille and proceeded to drive himself into the very dead-end road he was currently standing in, practically whining to a veritable stranger.
Two things stood out to you immediately. One, this ‘Kim Mingyu’ was a refreshingly honest man in a world that would be all too willing to chew him up and spit him back out. Two, he should be thankful he was clearly so rich that him and his relentless talking were both immune to the worst of humanity.
Personal amusement (and unwilling attraction) aside, you had kept your pleasant customer-service demeanor plastered onto your face, smiling politely and listening until Mingyu asked you how to get back on his way. When you gave him the route, he had bowed and thanked you profusely, to which you waved your hand and said it was no problem.
If anybody asked you, you would have vehemently denied watching Mingyu walk out to his car, slip his sunglasses on and back out of the dead-end with a smoothness that was almost preternatural. No, you definitely didn’t poke your head out of the shop to watch his car turn out of your street and out of sight.
That day at work, you couldn’t help but think about the man with the stunning car and the even more stunning smile. Usually, wayward drivers didn’t catch your attention like this, but wayward drivers were usually not built like an Asian Adonis with a sweet personality to boot.
You were never going to see him again, you’d thought, kicking yourself thoroughly. The same way you’d never met any of those other people again. This pathetic fixation on the first pretty man to grace your eyesight really needed to stop; you were definitely going to go home and drown the butterflies in a few well-deserved drags of nicotine.
I came back for you though.
To this day, you wonder why Mingyu tracked you back down again a few weeks later.
The cigarette in your hand was just shy of halfway done, the smoke carefully curling above your head and into thin air as you exhaled again.
September had set in, and Mingyu had walked back into the leather store in the middle of your afternoon shift. Said hi with all the familiarity of a long-lost friend, and made a joke about you not having been on shift when he came in the week before, looking for you. When you gawked at him, the customer service persona slipping in favour of pure confusion, he’d shifted from one foot to another and asked you if he could take you for coffee. As a thank you, he’d said. You’d saved him from the wrath of his brother, and he wanted to thank you.
It was never about the thank you.
It really wasn’t, the sneaky fox.
December 2024
The months after you met Mingyu for coffee went faster than the French winds.
That coffee after your shift ended (he’d waited in his car until you finished) had become cocktail- making classes the week after, and then dinner the day after that. Soon, he was inviting you to meet his (equally insanely rich) friends in dive bars nobody else knew about . In return, you were introducing him to your inner circle of best friends over eggs benedict and criminally underpriced chicken sandwiches, masking your eye-roll at the suggestive glances your girls threw your way every time Mingyu stole a discarded mushroom from your plate.
Before you knew it, your lives had intertwined with each other’s, like a pair of cats that liked each other’s scents too much and no longer saw any merit in wandering about alone-
Friends. The two of you had become friends, in that easy way you thought was only possible as kids. Maybe you were both still kids in your own right- young adults navigating lives that you were living for the very first time, unfamiliar and daunting yet as exhilarating as freefall. But Mingyu…
Mingyu was passion embodied, you’d learned.
A businessman with a love for everything beautiful. Art, music, fashion… it was like all the beauty in the world spoke to him in a language only his soul knew and that…that made him so much more beautiful in your eyes. Beyond the astonishing perfection of that jawline and the positively angelic smile was a person who was so human in his ability to love things over and beyond himself.
Just being around him sparked something deep in you that you hadn’t felt in a very long time.
And so, sooner than you’d expected (and later than you’d hoped), the months after you met Mingyu for coffee became more passionate than sin.
Do you regret that night?
Now that was a question you’d never thought to answer.
Drag. Exhale. Some random song played from the speakers set up in your living room, the beats floating almost lazily to you through the haze of the smoke. You don’t remember connecting your phone, or playing any music, but some part of your brain dismissed it as your bad memory acting up again.
Sometimes, you had a tendency to forget things you ate hours before, or whether you switched your heater off before you left home, or for instance, whether you connected your phone to your speakers in the dead of night after a difficult work day. Details that didn’t particularly matter to the tapestry of your life were often discarded from your brain like loose threads, the real estate better used for things that you deemed actually important to your well-being.
Like how Mingyu’s face lit up when you invited him to your apartment for the first time, early in December. How he’d shown up at your door a few evenings later with 3 bottles of your favourite cider, a ridiculous winter hat and a ‘gift for the gracious hostess’ that turned out to be a scented candle from a niche perfume brand you’d only ever heard about on fashion influencers’ profiles. How he’d looked around your (probably insanely tiny to him) apartment with the curiosity of a toddler, fascinated by every element of your home - the framed pictures, the blue neon strip lights, the rows of spice jars and your “extraordinarily tasteful”bar cart. How you’d settled in to watch a horror movie to his utter chagrin, claiming to be downing cider faster than water to be able to “stomach his fear” as you watched The Conjuring together.
No, goddamn it. Of course you don’t regret it.
January 2025
The night you kissed Mingyu for the first time, regret had been the last thing clouding your mind.
That night, you’d invited him home for yet another horror movie evening, not very different from the first ever time you’d had him over. That night, the two of you had been standing on your balcony smoking together, the smoke and the haze and the lazy Paris night all mixing into a heady cocktail.
Mingyu had always been an infrequent smoker, while you were no stranger to a stiff Marlboro the way one would want a stiff whiskey on the rocks. But he seemed to have developed a penchant for accompanying your smoke breaks, claiming that he enjoyed how philosophical the nicotine made you. Sometimes, he’d even join you, sticking the unlit cigarette in his mouth and then leaning towards you, waiting for you to click a lighter to it’s end. Annoying man.
“So, tell me…” Mingyu turned his body towards you, his cigarette grasped lazily in one hand as he leaned against your balcony’s doorframe. It was almost second nature at that point to turn away from the Paris skyline and face him, letting your back and elbows balance your body against the railing.
Seconds passed in silence as Mingyu watched you take a languorous drag of your cigarette, tipping your head back to let the smoke escape above you in a thick, gauzy haze. The world spun a little as you lifted your head back to look at him - only to find that he was still looking at you.
Mingyu was still looking at you, with this-this look in his eyes, that you had seen a disproportionate number of times in the last couple of months. Dark eyes, slightly parted lips curved in a slight smirk , head tilted slightly like he’d tracked every movement of yours until your eyes met his. An expression absolutely doused in…oh gods.
Suddenly, the moment was no longer just a moment.
It stretched like it was drowned in honey, molten and drowsy and loaded until you forced yourself to raise an eyebrow at him, all casual-like.
“Tell you what?”
You were surprised at how steady your voice was, like you hadn’t just felt a firelance across your chest at the way he looked at you, wondering…did you look at him like this too?
Did your utterly wild attraction to Kim Mingyu look like this on you?
Had you spent the past God-knows-how-many months looking at him like- like you wanted to devour his very soul?
But Mingyu, damn him, for all the world, seemed absolutely unbothered by the inferno his simple pause had started in your head as he took another slow drag, eyes not leaving yours.
“Tell me that I’m not the only one feeling whatever this is.”
There it was.
“Whatever what is?”
Again with that steady voice when you were anything but. Fascinating how much public speaking classes could mask.
But Mingyu, damn him, only took a step closer to you, that amused yet unruffled curve to his lips starting to distract you from the words he was actually saying.
“Don’t insult our intelligences.”
He was standing right in front of you now, probably still fixing those cocktail-of-emotions eyes of his on you, smoke forgotten in his hand as the burnt end cast a vague orange glow against the tan of his wrist.
Now, the only reason you noticed that was because you were now doing everything possible to avoid that gaze, but apparently the damned guy didn’t like that.
“Look at me.”
How could you deny Kim Mingyu anything?
And so you did-
Fuck.
Fuck.
“I can’t be the only one feeling this, can I?” Mingyu’s voice had taken on an edge now, but all sounds felt like they were coming from underwater. How the fuck could somebody speak volumes with just their eyes, what the fuck-
“Please tell me if I’m overstepping here, but I don’t think I can spend another day around you feeling the way I do without knowing if you-”
You would only have to visualize the end of that sentence in your memories, because you’d dropped your cigarette by then. Dropped your cigarette in favour of grasping the front of Mingyu’s (astonishingly soft and deep blue) button-up to pull him into a kiss.
Not a kiss, no. The kiss.
It was like your bodies had been waiting to feel each other’s lips, with the way you melted against each other. A sigh escaped you, lost between your mouths as Mingyu’s hands curled around your waist, pulling you even closer. Your hands went around his shoulders, absolutely unbidden, tugging at the hair in the back of his neck as you arched against his body, the kiss deepening in mere seconds…
Kissing him…it was like realizing all you ever wanted had been right there in front of you, all this time. All you had to do, it seemed, was reach out.
We were fucking beautiful together.
Beauty… The charred end of your cigarette punched a smoldering hole in your ashtray as you killed it, inhaling in your first breath of untainted air.
Beauty was in the eye of the beholder, they said.
Maybe, if you were a better person, you would have seen beauty in the way you and Mingyu found each other. In the way you’d fallen into each other’s arms and found whatever had been missing in your hearts. In the way the two of you had carved out spaces for each other in your lives, curiously and painstakingly and gloriously until there was no doubt who the space belonged to. In the way every shared song and smile, embrace and evening seemed to stretch too long and still not enough-
If you were a better person, you would have beheld the beauty.
But all your eyes beheld was the end.
May 2025
It was unnervingly easy for you and Mingyu to transition from friends to…to whatever you had become.
The two of you never sat down and spoke about it; but something fundamental had shifted in your dynamic the second your lips had touched each other’s. It was evident, in the large things and the small - you couldn’t help but be surprised ( and vaguely embarassed) at how utterly unfazed your friends had been at the new development.
If anything, they all looked like they had been waiting for it.
When the two of you had walked hand-in-hand into the next dive bar hangout with Mingyu’s friends, you could have sworn money changed hands under the table. Seungcheol ( the owner of the Maserati) had been the most normal of the rowdy bunch, while Jeonghan ( the owner of an even prettier Aston Martin) had made up for his boyfriend’s composure with outrageous eyebrow wiggles and even more outrageous double entendres that had set the entire table in stitches, and the two of you into sheepish smiles.
Your friends were no better; the man that had once been the hilariously delegated group boyfriend ( who’s responsibilities consisted primarily of holding bags, compact mirrors and photography) in earlier brunch outings was now the object of honeymoon jokes and good-natured “hurt-her-and-we-hurt-you” jibes. Mingyu, to his credit, had taken it all in stride and had even thrown back highly-appreciated rebuttals and reassurances, all while tracing lazy patterns onto your knee under the table.
The club you frequented seemed to have caught wind too; your favourite bartender set two ridiculous candy-green shots in front of the both of you when you’d visited, winking at the two of you and shouting a suggestive “ABOUT TIME” over the din of the club’s usual 2000s pop playlist.
It was like the entirety of Paris had seen your relationship come alive that night, and had conspired to make it as beautiful as possible.
And Mingyu…
To your surprise, Mingyu was utterly unfazed by it all too.
He’d slipped into the your new dynamic with all the familiarity of a worn bathrobe - sleeping over at your place thrice a week, bringing tiny “gestures of appreciation” that threatened to cover all your shelves, greeting you with the same bear-hugs that were now accompanied by toe-curling kisses.
You’d begun to memorize him, you realized.
How he’d smile uncertainly at you in the middle of another passionate talking session, stopping midway to ask if he was talking your ear off. How he went as still as a statue if he was overwhelmed, staring off into space until somebody brought him back to reality. How he hated wasting food, and loved playing with animals. How he’d only fall sleep tangled around you, even though he had occasional nightmares and would wake up sweating bullets and needing iced water.
You’d begun to memorize him, as easily as knowing the words to your old favourite songs. Even though you were waiting for the songs to inevitably…end.
We had everything we ever wanted.
The Paris air was starting to numb your fingers, your knees starting to knock together despite the jeans clinging to your legs. Or maybe it was the fact that Mingyu wasn’t physically around to blanket you in that annoying furnace-style warmth of his own body.
Shrugging off that depressing thought, you allow yourself another cigarette, to truly revel in the misery.
As the end of your cigarette dutifully lit itself, that whispered phantom question lingered in your mind.
Did you have everything you ever wanted?
A month ago, you had a man that cared beyond mortal measure, friends that called you out on your self-imposed idiocy, a home that kept you cozy and a city that never stopped giving you life.
Now…
Now, you had a heart cracked beyond mortal measure, friends that called you out on your self-imposed idiocy, a home that felt incomplete and a city that had stopped feeling alive.
Yes, you conceded, a gust of air carrying your exhaled smoke away from your balcony perch.
Yes, we did have everything we ever wanted.
October 2025
“That’s a bad habit, you know.”
You felt Mingyu before you heard him, the rustle of cloth and the click of keys in the key-bowl announcing his presence before his voice filled your balcony. Dissapointment-tinged in a way that made your skin crawl, your spine shiver and your hand clench.
Again with that tone.
He’d been vaguely…mean, lately. Easier to set off. The smallest things were beginning to devolve into petty arguments, even though one of you ended up coming back to the other soon after, head hung low.
The last few weeks, though…The gaps between fight and resolution had begun getting longer, the apologies becoming cookie-cutter.
You’d known this was coming, though. Braced for it, even. So you weren’t phased.
Just annoyed.
Let that annoyance lance through your system as you looked over your shoulder at Mingyu, eyebrow cocked as you took a pointed drag.
“Yes, and?”
He’d been leaning against the balcony door in a manner all too similar to the night that had begun it all- at your icy tone, Mingyu stiffened and stood upright, the fight sparking his own eyes as they narrowed.
“You’re overthinking again.”
Yes.
“No, you need to stop psychoanalysing me for every vice, Mingyu.”
You turned back to the railing, exhaling as you did. The haze was making this conversation easier, the jagged edges of your heart being softened by nicotine velvet as you took an immediate drag again, not wanting to let the feeling fade. Easier to be a little numb if this was going to be a fight, isn’t it?
Pause.
“Is this how you’re going to say hi after a week apart?”
Mingyu was forcing himself to be pleasant, you realized, as you turned to face him and all that otherworldly beauty. Pleasant, so hopefully this wouldn’t devolve into yet another argument.
For some reason, that pissed you off even more. You didn’t need bubble wrapping; why was he walking on eggshells around you? Indeed, you’d spent the week apart - Mingyu had flown to the US for a business meeting with Seungcheol, something about a new collaboration with an upcoming artist. Indeed, the two of you had barely been able to talk, the distance and the timezones playing complicated games with your patience. Indeed, you’d felt like you’d lost a limb the second Mingyu had dragged his suitcase out of your apartment, but he didn’t need to know that right? Right?
A sigh from Mingyu, heavy and soft.
“Just admit that you missed me.”
You did miss him. So gods-damned much.
“If that’s what’s going to float your boat tonight,” you grin, raising your cigarette in a mocking salute. “Welcome back, my love.”
And that…That was what broke the camel’s back, it seemed.
“What is up with you these days?” Mingyu demanded, finally walking up to the railing next to you. You could feel his eye boring into the side of your head, but you kept your gaze ahead, right out into the Paris lights.
“You’ve been pushing me away every turn of the way, why are you doing that?” his voice took on that tinge of dissapointment again, aside from the irritation.
“I’m being perfectly normal, i don’t know what you’re talking about.” The defense rose too easily to your mouth, but Mingyu was already talking, even though you still weren’t looking at him.
“Normal? NORMAL? This isn’t fucking NORMAL,”he spluttered, throwing his hands up. And then it all came tumbling out, voice rising and falling in that way that was entirely his own, musical yet brutal-
“We barely even talk anymore, love! It’s like we exist in this apartment together but we have NOTHING to do with each other. You’ve started looking at me like i’m a fucking STRANGER and I can’t TAKE IT, you’re not even LOOKING AT ME RIGHT NOW, WHY CAN’T YOU LOOK AT ME-”
He reached for your wrist, like he’d try to turn you towards himself, but you were already turning, your own patience fraught.
“Why is it so important that I look at you!?” The words erupted from you, and Mingyu stopped short.
“Why does it matter if we don’t talk as much as we used to? We were new to each other a year ago, we know EVERYTHING about each other now. Of course we’re not going to be YAPPING the way we did when we first met.” Your hands were waving now, cigarette forgetten and barely clinging to your fingers like the smell it would leave behind on them.
“You’re telling me we don’t talk, but I know you weren’t due back from New York for another couple of days. Cheol told me you took the jet and just left, with no explanation. What were you thinking? Were you worried I was cheating or something?”
“I-Love….” Mingyu blanched, taking a single step back, his eyes no longer angry but…sad. Heavy, bone-deep sad.
You put that sadness in his face. Monster.
“I came back for you. I wanted us to take a break and go somewhere for the weekend. I…I just wanted to come back to you.”
The soft defeat in his tone should have deterred you from saying the next words, but it didn’t. Monster.
“Am I supposed to thank you?”
Ice-cold monster.
The beat of silence that stretched at those words felt like a death knell.
“It was never about the fucking thank you.” Mingyu’s voice shook, taking on an uncharacteristic tone- anger. Rage. Oh, you’d made Kim Mingyu so angry.
“What the fuck is wrong with you? What fucked you up so bad that you can’t let somebody just love you?” His voice rose, cold and flat in a way you’d never heard from him before.
“I’ve spent the last year and a half on my knees for you. I knew you were closed off, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to be in your life, in some way or another. But you kissed me that night, like you were willing to try. That night, I thought maybe you…” The rage cracked, making way for something else. You watched quietly, knowing there was not a goddamn thing you could say anymore.
“I thought maybe you gave enough of a fuck about me to try.”
Mingyu took a deep breath, exhaling a gauzy haze that betrayed how cold Paris was getting. Just about as as cold as you, evidently.
“Sometimes I wonder, do you regret that night? But then I realize,”
A soulless laugh escaped Mingyu, and the stark, heartbroken sound of it threatened to bring a tear to your eye. You didn’t deserve tears.
“I realize that you had nothing to regret. I realize that I was the only one in this relationship. You were just along for the social experiment of it all, weren’t you? But I have to say, you’re the one that missed out. We were fucking beautiful. We had everything we ever wanted. EVERYTHING,” again, that rage, but his own eyes were now burning with unshed tears, one breaking free to streak down his face to trail against his gritted jaw.
“And you were too blind to notice. That’s on you. And you know the worst fucking part? I still fucking love you.Even though you don’t. ”
I still fucking love you.
The words clanged through your soul, striking you still. Long after Mingyu had walked out of the balcony, gathered his stuff and walked right back out of the door he walked in. Long after your own breath began fogging up the air in front of you. Long after your fingers grew numb, your lips dry, your nose icy.
I still fucking love you. I still fucking love you. I….love you.
December 2025
Your second cigarette lay half smoked on the ash-tray (a vintage metal tray that Mingyu foraged from one of his many thrift store jaunts), smoke rising steadily like a taint to thin air. Your attention was speared upon something else entirely- a single recurring thought that had been floating around your mind in an increasing fashion ever since Mingyu had walked out that chilly October night.
Call him.
The urge was a beating drum in your head, despite logic and rationale screaming about the sheer idiocy of it all; it was like asking to get a verbal beat down from somebody who had all the right to dish it out.
But logic and rationale didn’t rule what you had with Mingyu.
That was the problem, wasn’t it?
Logic was never going to explain the lightness you felt when you hot him to smile that toothy smile he reserved only for you.
Sanity was not going to answer why the bed that was once perfect for you now felt too big, too empty, too cold.
Rationale was not what told you that life had been so much more colourful when he was around.
No, it was love.
Love, in all it’s messy, terrifying, chaotic glory, smoothing out the barbed wire you had strung around your heart like demented fairy lights.
Call him.
Love, bright and soft and beautiful, wrapping warm arms around you and reassuring you that it was okay to be scared.
Call him.
Love, sometimes silent, sometimes sonorous, definitely not sane.
Call him.
You’d spent a month without him, wanting to prove to yourself that you could live life after Mingyu, after having Mingyu. It had been a cold, soulless month, where everything tasted like ash and smelled like regret. 5 weeks of your friends calling you lovelorn, lovesick, heartbroken and demanding that you do something to change it. 30-odd days of sleeping on your couch because sleeping in the bedroom felt like lying in a pit of snakes.
Trying to forget him, trying to be yourself again…it was like trying to know somebody you’d never met.
So here you were now, your body propelling you back into your apartment against your will to fish out your phone from the corner you’d thoughtlessly tossed it into, to pause and stare at the lockscreen - a silhouette of Mingyu looking out at the Eiffel tower, sunset lighting up the sky in oranges and reds.
You’d been so happy when you’d taken this photo of him, so proud that you’d managed to convert some semblance of his real beauty into pixels.
You could have been that happy all this time, if you’d only stopped standing in your own way.
But no, you’d spent the last year and a half in regret, like you wished you never found out that love like this, love for him, could be this strong.
Maybe Mingyu wouldn’t want you back, some dark, belated part of you thought as you pulled up his number, finger lingering on the call button.
Maybe Mingyu was sick and tired of what you put him through, and wanted nothing more to do with you anymore. He would be reasonable in blocking you from his life. You’d hurt him in ways nobody should be hurt. Your epiphany about love and happiness and striving to be more open could likely not matter to him anymore, but…
But you had to try.
Even if it ended in Mingyu never picking up, or cursing you out.
Click. Beep.Beep.Beep.
“Hello?”
He picked up. He sounded so familiar, despite the wariness in his voice. The timbre and tone filtering through your speaker brought tears to your eyes and this time, you let them flow. Mingyu, your heart, your love…
“H-Hi.” Why were you stuttering? Weakling.
Pause.
“Why are you calling?”
“I…” Don’t deflect.
“I love you.”
Pause. Too long of a pause. Did he hang up? Just then, a soft intake of breath came in from the other side, and the dam just…cracked.
“I know I’m probably too late, and I’ve hurt you in immeasurable ways, and I know I don’t deserve your time anymore, but…Please come back to me.” Now that the words were out, there was no putting them back. Silence stretched on the other side, but you couldn’t stop the words even if you wished.
“I’ve spent years wondering what love would feel like even though i’ve been terrified of it, and it feels like you, Mingyu. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize it. You don’t owe me a damn thing, but if we tried again, I’d…I’d love you too. You’ve been spinning around in my head since the second I met you, and even then, I knew there was no going back to the person I was before that day.
“I’m..so, so sorry, love.” Your voice broke and squeaked, the tears almost too much to speak anymore.
And still, the silence stretched on the other end, the only sound of Mingyu’s presence his breathing.
“…Mingyu?”
“I’ll be over in 15.” Beep.
And you knew, when Mingyu knocked on your door this time…
This time, you wouldn’t turn him away.
Ella Notes: ...Voila? :3
I'd love to hear what you guys think, so please feel free to send me an ask, reblog or comment!! Also, if you guys know the song, do tell me if you noticed pieces of the lyrics hidden in the story !! <3
XOXO, Ella
