Warnings: angst, sensitive content, lil bit of fluff
A/N: This is going to be of both the boys and reader flinching just to raise awareness that men can also experience abuse (which is definitely NOT happening in this reaction) and fear it as well. Abuse is abuse, no matter if it’s physical or psychological, or committed towards a man or a woman AND ABUSE IS WRONG. Again, just to reiterate, there are NO abusive relations going on in these reaction. Thank you.
Remember violence is never the answer, unless it’s for self-defence.
Kim Hongjoong:
You knew exactly what you got into when you agreed to be with him.
Hongjoong was a busy man, and you knew that. Spent most of his time holed up in his studio, perfecting the music he produced. Though it was admirable at times, there were still moments you felt lonely.
You couldn’t just walk into his studio either; it wasn’t as if you were an employee that you could just gain access to the building whenever you wanted, nor could you afford to spend your sleeping hours on workdays on his little sofa which would leave him without a place to rest himself.
Yet, this was something you could handle.
Not having your boyfriend when you wanted him.
But the thing that made you explode wasn’t that issue necessarily. It was how he worked himself half-to-death, looking like a corpse when he opened the door to his studio when you came to visit after a long day of work.
Maybe it was because of the stresses of your taxing jobs; your boss had been harsh on all the workers and he wasn’t having an easier time either by going through an artists block.
You didn’t mean for an argument to break out, but that’s exactly what happened.
Neither of you knew what you were saying anymore, just letting the first string of words that formed in your minds to spill from your tongues.
Often, with that kind of verbal fighting, your throat got dry. As your boyfriend continued to yell, you stood to grab the mug of now-cold coffee from his desk.
You hadn’t noticed it was the mug you made for him after taking a pottery and ceramics class. The same mug he drank from everyday.
At least it was something to soothe the raw burning inside your neck. The problem was, was that you were shaking so badly from all the adrenaline and anger, the mug had slipped from your fingers.
Hongjoong’s back was facing you, so he didn’t see. All he hear was a smash, and that alerted something in him. Made him flinch. Expecting to have shards of his mug digging into his skin.
But when he felt nothing, he turned around, only to see you with slightly parted lips and wide eyes of fear and hurt, the remnants of the mug at your feet and chestnut liquid pooling out. You hadn’t missed the way his back flinched, head ducked down as his arms tried to protect it.
Would’ve had to been blind not to.
Clearing your throat, you bent down to collect the pieces. You knew what he thought. He thought you were going to hurt him. Never. You never would. That’s why you were having this argument in the first place. Because you were concerned for his wellbeing.
And when he saw the way your hands shook, now angry at yourself for not helping him feel safe around you, he knelt down beside you with the box of tissues from his desk.
“Clean the coffee instead,” he whispered, still stiff from the strange atmosphere. “You’ll end up cutting yourself on the pieces. Let me clean them up.”
As one tear fell from your face, you continued to pick up the shards with your bare hands. You hadn’t even noticed thick red drops of liquid mixing with the thinner substance on the floor from how blurry your sight was.
Only a small cut, but Hongjoong patched it up with the first-aid box in his studio with the utmost care.
“I’m sorry,” you finally said in a small voice, breaking the silence. “I’m putting too much pressure on you.” That wasn’t what you wanted to say, but you were too afraid to do so.
“It’s okay. I know you’re just worried about me,” he replied at the same volume. He could tell you were too ashamed to lift your eyes and meet his, so he cupped your cheeks to try and ease away some of the guilt. “Hey, look at me. It’s okay. Just a reflex, is all.”
He rested his forehead onto yours, closing his eyes as he tried to connect with your mind once more, like you had often joked about. Spoke once more as he realised that he loved to hear you chuckle more than hearing you yell.
“By the way, you owe me a new hand-made mug.”
Park Seonghwa:
Seonghwa is a meticulous man, always cleaning and keeping thing primp and proper in your house. It was cute, you thought, when you first knew him right up until lately.
Either you were staying with him or he was staying with you, but you both are almost glued to each other by the hip.
Kind of like a married couple (which is what the boys and your roommates often say).
One thing that comes along with ‘married’ couples like you two, is that fights are inevitable. This one was about Seonghwa; about his meticulous self, about his obsessive cleaning that had lead to you not knowing where any of your stuff is.
You have a short fuse, you’ll admit. Maybe you should have been a little more patient and spoke nicer to your already aggravated boyfriend (your living room was a mess since your little niece came over for a visit).
Then again, he really was getting on your nerves, making you feel bad about being as mess as you were.
Seeing him huffing angrily as he sprayed and wiped the table, had just set you off--setting him off as well.
It got to a point where he got so worked up, Seonghwa didn’t even realise that the vase of flowers he got you (just because he felt like it) toppled over when he threw the cleaning cloth at the table he was working on.
Thankfully, it hadn’t smashed, but the sound of the coloured glass hitting the wood--paired with the furious expression on your boyfriend--had made you jump a little.
Seeing your jolt, he softened his stiff stance along with the glare he pointed towards you.
He didn’t like seeing that. He didn’t like seeing you so scared. Especially when it was him who caused it.
Shakily inhaling through his nose, his jittery hands reached out to put back the bouquet he got you just a few days before. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, looking at the slightly withered plants in his hand, “Didn’t mean to get so worked up.”
“I’m sorry too. For... for being harsh. I was just... feeling guilty.”
When those words left your lips, his head spun around extremely fast, with wide eyes like those of owls. “What do you mean?”
Running you tongue over you lower lip, you crossed your arms. Trying to hug yourself from feeling the overload of the ugly emotion rising in your throat, burning it.
“It’s just that, I see you working so hard and then you have to come home to my messes and feel like you have to clean up too. Then when I try to help, I just do it differently than how you do it, and since it’s different, it’s wrong to you. Just makes more work for you and I just...”
Sigh escaped your lung, and you murmured the next bit from your embarrassment. “Feel like I’m a useless girlfriend. More of a burden than anything.”
Scoffing, he quickly made his way to you--trying to ignore the intense squeezing on his heart just hearing that coming out of your mouth.
“Shush. Don’t say things like that.” His hands put down the flowers on the nearest surface, and tugged at my arms so he could hug you properly. “Hurts me, you know,” he muttered, “when you say thing like that. You’re more important to me than you understand. Help me out more than you know.”
Humming, you buried your head in his chest, trying to calm the pounding organ in your own. “No, I don’t.”
“Well, thing is, is that you just don’t see it.”
Jeong Yunho:
You and Yunho had been going through a bit of a rough patch. So rough, that you two were eroding away at each other’s sanity, using your fights as sandpaper.
Every couple goes through them, where they fell like slamming their heads against the nearest thing so they can try to remember why they got in the relationship in the first place.
This had been the both of you for the last month or so, having fights that were so bad, neither of you could remember why you liked the other in the first place.
One thing that you both did was keeping other people out of it. A mutual understanding that your friends or family or even strangers weren’t to get involved in what was the current shitshow of your relationship.
In fact, you two did it so well, that no one knew it was going on in the first place.
Sure, there were the occasional cold vibes from the two of you, but that was normal, right?
Things were meant to be normal.
But with everything so bad between the two of you and frustrations just building up with no outlet but each other, something was going to go sideways.
Today’s argument was different. Today’s argument was the first time either of you had done something that indicated that the relationship was anything but ‘alright’.
Yunho was less kind to you, cold-shouldering you from the fight you two had the night before, which had led him to sleeping on the couch rather than the bed with you--in his own room. Back troubles he got from the poor night’s sleep didn’t bode well for the long day of dance practice that began at a stupid hour of the morning.
In a way, he had the right to be pissed. His body was more sore than normal, brain deprived of decent sleep, and on top of that, he was just exhausted of having fight upon fight upon fight.
He just wanted to rest when he came back. But you weren’t making it easy for him, not picking up his signals that he wanted to be left alone.
Lead to sarcastic and harsh remarks, which you were not going to stand for. Not when he said them in from of prying eyes.
“Yunho, can I talk to you privately?” Though your tone was sweet, he could hear the clenched teeth, feel the anger pooling out of you even if no one else picked up on it.
Rolling his eyes, he got up and you two left the eerily silent room to his bedroom. The tall man sat sluggishly on his bed, skin paler, drained of colour because he really didn’t have the energy for this. “What is it?”
“‘What is it?’ Are you kidding me?” you seethed, keeping your volume down since the door was still open and the rest could still hear. “I told you, no petty shit in front of the others.”
“Can’t help it when you’re constantly on my case the moment you lay your eyes on me,” your boyfriend mumbled, brave enough to look at you despite how he knew that this was the most furious he had ever seen you.
“Are you fucking--” Cut yourself off with a groan to try and keep your anger from rising, you spun around to close the door before you could give him a piece of your mind.
What you didn’t anticipate was the door slamming shut so loud, it had caused Yunho to flinch, grabbing the sheet of the bed, the confidence in his eyes melted away to leave fear dancing around.
The sight of him looking so terrified of you had you instantly cooling down. That sight had finally reminded you why you fell for Yunho in the first place.
Sweet, innocent, Yunho who couldn’t hurt a fly. And you hurt him. Your relationship had turned the energetic boy to look so drained. You felt horrible. Felt like a tyrant.
You’re not one to cry, but you did. The dam broke without your permission and hot tears slipped down your burning cheeks without a valve to stop it. Even Yunho was surprised to see it, but he knew why it happened. He knew you got scared of yourself after opening your eyes for the first time in a month.
He saw the caring, lovable person he felt for, and he could tell that it wasn’t just him who was tried of this rough patch.
“Sorry,” you whispered, not sure what to do, but all your instincts told you to get away from him as soon as possible before you hurt him even more.
You ran.
“Wait--” Yunho tried calling for you, but you were already out of the room. He tried to follow you, but you were quite quick to leave the dorm. Luckily, his long legs were quicker than yours, and he caught up to you just outside the building.
“Yunho, let me go,” you sniffled, trying to keep from sobbing in front of him. Stopping him from feeling bad because he should have every right to hate you.
“No,” he said sternly. He had just gotten the old you back, the one he loved, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to let you go.
“Please,” you hiccupped, “I’m not good for you. You were--”
“You are, ‘cause if you weren’t, you would have carried on. Would’ve continued to hurt me. But you stopped.”
“Don’t wanna hurt you again. Don’t,” you coughed, words too much for your throat, “wanna fight anymore.”
His hand raised to stroke your hair. To soothe you. Because, truth be told, he was equally to blame in the breakdown, since he didn’t try either. But now he wants to.
“We’ve had this experience, haven’t we? Plus, we’re smart. Could just learn from this and move on. Or could stop?” He sucked in a breath, scared of your answer. “What do you say? Save it or end it?”
After a prolonged silence of contemplation--which had given him a bit of a heart attack--you finally answered, “Save it.”
Kang Yeosang:
No one really likes working. Yeosang was lucky in your opinion; got to do what he liked for a living. You were on the other end of the spectrum, working as a secretary for a boss who abuses he power when he felt like it.
Much rather prefer being your own boss, but the company you were at were quite sexist, finding every single fault in your work in order to keep you from receiving promotions.
Couldn’t even leave because the economy was bad, with a lack of jobs in most sectors, and you desperately needed the money.
In short, yes, you were under a lot of stress. More stress than your job required, but your hands were tied for the moment.
One thing that you had forgotten was that Yeosang too had his bad days at work, and was at times just as stressed as you were. He was the quiet one in the relationship, so talking about his problems was an occurrence that never happened often.
Sometimes you forgot that he even had problems. So when he eventually reached his breaking point, telling you “shut up” among other things, you were annoyed.
The thing that had made it worse, was that when you started to verbally attack him back, he didn’t say anything more, opting to just let it bubble up until he was about to explode once more.
Blind to it, you carried on yelling at him, while you paced around his room.
Yeosang knew this was bad, he couldn’t just scream back--not to you--since he knew he would say things he didn’t mean. Things that could very well end your relationship. So he opted for the next best thing.
Skating away his anger as he usually did.
Obviously, he never said this out loud, so you didn’t know his intention when he came storming up to you (not realising that his skateboard was resting on the wall beside next to you). That, paired with the deathly blank face the man had on as well the speed of his movement, your first reaction was shrink back into the wall.
Yeosang froze, his body inches from yours, slightly hunched as his hand grabbed the board. Why would you... why had you reacted that way to him?
Was he really that scary?
Gulping at the sight of your scared self, he pulled his skateboard to his side slowly, capturing you attention.
“I’m... I’m going to go out,” he hesitantly said.
“Oh,” was your only reply. Too shocked to ask where it is he was going at this time of night, but conscious enough to know what and why he was going.
And he left without a word, only a heavy heart.
You two had made mistakes; he never let out his true feelings often enough for you to know and you were too quick to judge. But this argument had brought out that flaw in your relationship.
Now that both of you had seen it, but care too much to let the other go, you two made the silent resolve to fix it.
So when Yeosang finally came back home, to you, he spoke up about his problems, and you listened.
Choi San:
San and you had met at the gym. Despite being Wooyoung’s trainer rather than his, the two of you hit it off pretty well.
Sadly that little bubble burst a bit too soon, and thus began the fights.
San was a jealous person, that trait only showing as the relationship began to develop. You were a personal trainer, and most of your colleagues and clients were men.
Didn’t matter how much Wooyoung tried to reassure him that you were professional at all times, San couldn’t help but feel like you would leave him for the much hotter guys you worked with.
Often, he would show it, throwing sarcastic comments or arguing with you to quite your job, saying that he was more than capable of supporting the two of you.
But that wasn’t what you wanted. You loved working, earning your own money and being your person. San was too insecure to see it, and you had called him out on it too, using those exact words.
Of course his pride was damaged from it, and he had just verbally lashed out even harder. As it bubbled up further, you couldn’t handle it anymore, and he could see it on your fiery red face as your volume increased with every sentence pouring from your mind.
No, this wasn’t going to get worse.
You needed to get yourself out of that situation, you needed to calm down and clear your head. Because you loved him, and he loved you.
Screaming was not going to help either of you stop this fight. San would never listen to you if you were being so hostile, nor would you care to actually properly listen to his point of view if he was hiding behind his anger.
A work-out. That’s what you needed. Calms you down, releases your stresses.
You walked over to the shelf where your exercise equipment was, reaching for your weights.
San, upon seeing the heavy items in you hands, had taken a step back, hands out both in defence and to talk you down. His fire died down immediately. “Y/N, calm down. Don’t.”
Spoke much too quickly to even catch on that you weren’t about to attack him with your weights, but that was his immediate thought.
“’Don’t’ what?” You trailed his sight to the items in your grasp, and you clocked on exactly ‘what’. Unfortunately, that was also the moment your boyfriend realised what your intention really was. “Y-You thought I’d...”
“N-No, sweetheart, listen to me--”
“San, do you think I’m dangerous? Because, if so, you seriously need to tell me.” You threw the weights onto the couch, away from either you or him. “I can handle us fighting, I know I can, and that we can resolve it too. But if you seriously think that I’m capable of ever physically hurting you, then we clearly have more important problems to fix first.”
The taller, well-built man in front of you looked down at his feet, twiddling his thumbs. “Just thought that... when you reached for the weights, you’d... I know you’re not like that, but I... couldn’t help but think you might. Would’ve done it if it was anyone else, I swear.”
Sighing, you came to his side, wrapping your arms around him. “Sorry for scaring you. But we still need to talk, San. Calm and collected, no screaming or hitting. Can you promise me that?”
“Okay... I promise.”
Song Mingi:
Mingi liked his sleep. The boys knew that. The whole world knew that. You knew that. He was cute when he slept, looking innocent and sweet and adorable. Like an oversized teddy bear.
What Mingi didn’t like, however, was your incessant teasing. Sure, it was cute at first, but now it felt as if you were attacking him for sleeping as much as he did.
The boy had a tiring day, so he didn’t get why you berated him for resting while also being on his back for being to harsh on himself. What was it? Was he too hard-working or was he too lazy?
On the other hand, you didn’t think much of it. Teasing was a way you’d show your love when you were playful, while voicing your actual concerns was how you’d show you cared.
That’s who you were and you thought Mingi knew that too.
Clearly, he didn’t. Otherwise, why did he look so annoyed?
Eventually, he snapped like a rubber band, causing a one-sided argument between the two of you. Weren’t a fighter, you never will be--confrontation being your biggest weakness despite your style of affection.
Just watched him as he stormed around your bedroom (thankfully your roommates were out for the day). Heard him speak to you with clenched teeth, trying to keep his anger in since he increasingly got frustrated with your ‘mixed signals’ and minimal effort to try and sort this out by talking to him.
He wanted to know you knew how to communicate, or felt comfortable communicating with him. Or even wanted to communicate in the first place.
But when he got nothing from you, all his heart was telling him was that you weren’t a hundred percent with your feelings as he was.
How this small teasing had balled up into something more, you didn’t know. Mingi was unpredictable, and to you, you saw nothing wrong with teasing him to show your affection. Yet you didn’t utter a coherent word to him. Especially when he was this pissed.
Having enough, his legs took him over to you, sitting on your bed.
Mingi forgot that he was a scary-looking fella. He forgot he had a towering form, and was well-built. He forgot that you hated confrontation and that you got scared easily.
Seeing you look so terrified sent a cold bucket of water dowsing his soul, and he could finally think clearly.
Feeling pretty shitty, he curled his hands around the hem of his t-shirt, fidgeting as his persona melted away without a trace to leave the Mingi you knew.
Softened eyes and hunched-over back and an overall muttering mess.
Those were all the clues you needed to know that he regretted loosing his cool--for whatever reason it was. Enough of an apology to you, because you always knew how to communicate without speaking.
But maybe speaking was the kind of communication you both needed right now.
And for him, a prideful man, to look so shaken and apologetic of himself, you thought that maybe you need to step out of your comfort zone too.
You two needed to face this problem, and communicate before anything.
Jung Wooyoung:
Both you and Wooyoung were very physical people--not in a bad sense. You just enjoyed the warmth of the other’s touch.
That’s why people would often find you two either holding hands, or snuggling up close, or running your fingers through each other’s hair.
It was how you both show love. The small touches, the passing-by grazes.
Not only were you both very touchy, but you were playful. Small little habit you picked up from when you were young; having siblings was always fun. Though, you suspected your boyfriend to be wired the same way because he liked to playfully return your pillow throws and weak pushes, even if they had a little too much weight behind them.
It was okay.
He knew you were a passionate person, and he knew your siblings too, so that level was normal to you. He was more than happy with it.
However, Wooyoung was also a bit of a jealous person, slightly possessive. Not that you minded; he was a sweetheart with good intentions, and he just liked you quite a bit.
Arguably even loves you, but that wasn’t something he was going to tell you just yet.
So, seeing you playfully hit a male friend, laugh with him and shove him slightly as you both reminisced about the past that Wooyoung was not apart of.
You were showing him affection. Affection that was only supposed to be for him. Your boyfriend wasn’t fond of the idea that you were starting to like your male friend more than you did him--forgetting that there were different kinds of love and affection, including those that didn’t mean romance.
So he ignored you, throwing a silent tantrum for over a week.
You tried everything; making him breakfast in bed, massaging him, teasing him. Nothing seemed to work. In fact, it seemed like he didn’t even want your touch anyway.
Hurt was all you felt as he rejected your affection, rejected your love for him. And after a week?
Well, after a week, that hurt converted to anger, fiery and bubbly and hot.
No way were you going to let your relationship with him turn rotten, especially when you didn’t even understand why he was acting the way he was.
What broke out was a...fight? You weren’t sure; you were yelling louder and louder while he continued to ignore you.
You were a passionate person by nature.
Maybe that’s why you pushed him. Harder than normal, had him stumbling a little. Finally you had his attention, but the red you were seeing blinded you from the shock on his face.
You weren’t going out push him again or hurt him, even, but he didn’t know that. Not when he saw exactly how upset you were by his silent treatment.
Took a step back from you when you took one towards him.
That definitely snapped you out of it, because he never backed away from your touch. He never backed away from your affection. Then you realised that maybe your affection was a little too intense.
Might have been too much, too passionate. Wooyoung was the last person you intended to hurt--really hurt--and yet you still did.
The way you had your bottom lip pressed between your two rows of teeth, refusing to look him in the eye, and hide your shaking hand behind your back--the very hand that had shoved him--was all he needed to know that you felt horrible.
Horrible about going too far this time.
“I...” you voice trailed off, dying along your throat. The air was a little too thin for you, throat a little too tight. You didn’t mean to make him scared of you, you just wanted to gentle knock some sense into him; that ignoring you was going to solve nothing.
Felt like you committed the greatest crime in the world by such a simple action.
Your boyfriend saw the internal turmoil you were in, beating yourself up over something that was small, a spur-of the moment thing while you never would intentionally try to hurt him. Not when it was you affection too.
Your love could never hut him, not when he wants it all to himself.
That’s why this happened in the first place. He was jealous, wanting you to look at him and him only.
To at least ease the current tension (despite him knowing this was going to affect how you usually act with him), he very lightly shoved your shoulder. Not enough to hurt you, just enough to make you lose your footing momentarily. Awkward, yet sweet smile pulling on his lips.
His way of saying “it’s okay.” The only way you’d listen.
Sure, you were going to review the way you showed your love, most likely just being lighter and having more control, but in that moment, your heavy heart felt just a little lighter.
Choi Jongho:
Your soul craved peace, but being in a healthy relationship required a bit of chaos.
Fights between you and Jongho were rare, because he was never really that bothered by your little habits nor you, his. At the start, it was easy to avoid since the two of you barely saw each other (his job was quite demanding). Much easier to love and avoid hate when you barely saw the person you craved most as much as you would have liked--that’s what you believed.
Sadly that peace didn’t last as long as you’d hoped. That sadness from not seeing you had gotten to the both of you, more him that it did you because his job as an idol required more energy than yours did.
You were Jongho’s energiser, his stress relief. His home.
When you came to see him this time, he was more frustrated than anything. Feelings too muddled up for his inexperienced self to know how to deal with.
He couldn’t even make sense out of what he was saying, why he was so angry and confused (though he could tell that it was more towards himself than you, though the way he was lashing out at you had made him even more upset since he knew deep down you didn’t even deserve this treatment).
Having no idea why you both were fighting at this point, all you knew was that you didn’t like it.
Had to stop before either of you said or did anything neither of you could come back from.
That’s why you hated fights.
It brought the ugliness in any relationship, no matter how beautiful.
Turning on you heel, you tried to leave before the situation escalated, hand reaching out to open the door of the living room. But Jongho was not done. The last thing he needed right now was to see you leave.
Granted, sometimes the boy forgot how strong he was, and being this upset had certainly made him lose sight of that bit of information.
Hand wrapped tightly around your wrist, stopping you from twisting the doorknob, and had yanked so you could face him. Hadn’t realised that his grip was too tight, the force of his movements a little too much.
Couldn’t tell until you shrunk into the wood behind you, whimpering, “J-Jongho, you’re hurting me...”
In an instant, he let go, taking a few steps back to increase the distance between you two. Shame flushed in his face, he took a few deep breaths to calm himself, stop the tears beginning to accumulate in his eyes.
You voice was ringing in his ears, words replaying over and over with the same weak tone; it was as if his mind was punishing him for doing such a thing, for not having control as he should.
It happened--he did something he couldn’t come back from (or wouldn’t let himself come back from) and you couldn’t stop it.
“Jongho--”
“Leave,” he said, clearly speaking with half a mind while he stared out into nothing, too caught up in trying to understand the moment before. “Go before I hurt you again. Before I go too far.”
He wouldn’t, you knew he wouldn’t. You dated enough people to know he was not the abusive type, not the kind of person to hurt you intentionally. In fact, his heart was too soft in comparison to his hard demeaner to ever let that happen.
Would mull over his mistakes for days on end, trying to rectify it.
That was who he was.
But Jongho was inexperienced in dating, he just didn’t know. A newborn baby in the face of love and romantic relationships.
“I’ll go,” you breathed, exiting the room.
He was silent, not emitting a single sound as he cried into a nearby pillow, already craving you warmth and scent that had eased him. Trying to engrave it all in his memory for it all completely disappeared.
What he didn’t know was that you were coming back. With frozen pizza, fried chicken, packets of instant ramen. His comfort foods.
You knew he he needed to understand what he was going through, he needed to work through this.
But you knew from personal experience that the worst way to do it was alone. So you would be there with him, helping him through it, helping him become more experienced in the battlefield of relationships.
You hate fights, but you couldn’t help but admit that they were necessary to see what was going on beneath the surface.
