Omg would you consider writing a 2nd part to "what remains of you?" I need to know what Jay wanted to talk to her about!!! My inkling is that he's just as affected as her and selfishly, i hope Minji isn't his gf and is just someone he's been on a few dates with? MAYBE THIS'LL BE A CHANCE FOR THEM TO TRY AGAIN? my heart aches for a happy ending 😭
hehe hi anon! here's a part two for 'what remains of you' - i quickly wrote this up the moment i saw your note so i hope you enjoy ><
BACK TO YOU | P. JS
ᝰ.ᐟ part 1
pairing | ex bf! jay x f! reader
synopsis | jay asks for another chance, leading you to questioning "why now?"
genre + warning | angst, fluff, jay is lowkey embarrassing...
word count | 3.5k
this is a work of fiction and does not depict any accurate representation of any members of enhypen
Jay stops a few feet away, and for a second, he just looks at you—like he’s trying to remember how to breathe. His hands are shoved deep in his pockets, shoulders tight, the practiced charm he’d worn all night stripped down to something raw.
“Y/N…” he says finally, voice softer than the music and chatter surrounding you. There’s a weight in the way he says your name, like it’s the first time he’s let himself touch it in years. His jaw works once, like he’s about to spill something heavier, truer—an apology, a confession, anything.
But then, he blinks, and you see it—the hesitation snapping everything shut. His mouth curves into a small, crooked smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.
“You look… good.”
It lands between you like a stone dropped in water—shallow words that ripple with everything unsaid beneath them. You know it isn’t what he meant to say. You can see it in the flicker of his gaze, the way his fingers twitch against his pockets like they’re itching to reach for you.
And for a heartbeat, you don’t know which is worse: that he came over ready to bare something real, or that he swallowed it back down and left you with nothing but small talk.
"Hey, Jay," you manage to reply, a bubble stuck in your throat.
Thankfully, you were sitting down still, your legs bouncing beneath the table. You didn't think he was going to walk up to you tonight.
Jay steps back a little, studying you with that unreadable expression he’s always been too good at wearing. A beat passes, then another, before he clears his throat.
“Do you… want to go somewhere more private?” His tone is careful, almost cautious, like he knows how reckless the question sounds.
Your stomach flips. You force yourself to look at him, to search for some hint of what he means by that. Your pulse hammers in your throat as you ask, “Would Minji mind?”
For the first time tonight, his mask slips just slightly. His mouth quirks, too dismissive, too light. “She’ll be fine. It’s just talking.”
But the way he says it makes your skin prickle, because it’s not casual at all. You should say no. You should stay rooted here, where the noise and the crowd can protect you from everything you swore you’d buried.
Instead, you hear yourself whisper, “Okay.”
You trail after him through the garden, past the lantern-lit tables and clusters of laughter. He doesn’t say a word as he leads you toward the far edge of the venue, where the noise thins into quiet and the fairy lights fade into shadows.
You stop beneath an ivy-covered archway, the faint music from the quartet drifting like a ghost between you. The air feels heavier here, like even the night is holding its breath.
It’s awkward at first—just the two of you, side by side, staring at anything but each other. You cross your arms over your chest, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. Jay runs a hand over the back of his neck, glancing up at the sky like the words he needs might be written there.
Finally, he exhales, sharp and unsteady.
“It’s weird,” he says, voice low. “Seeing you here. Talking to you again like this at Sunghoon’s wedding.”
Your chest tightens. There’s more in his tone than the words admit—grief, longing, regret all tangled up.
You swallow hard, meeting his eyes at last. “Weird?” you echo, but your voice comes out thinner than you mean.
He doesn’t look away. “Yeah. Because part of me thought I’d never get this again.”
Your throat tightens, but you force the words out. “What do you mean?”
Jay’s gaze flickers, sharp for a moment, then softens into something messier. He drags a hand through his hair, lets out a humorless laugh.
“I mean… how we ended things. I’ve gone over it in my head a hundred times. A thousand, maybe. And I still don’t know if it was worse that I let you walk away or that you let me.”
You stiffen. The air between you sharpens, electric with old wounds.
“It wasn’t just me,” you murmur, stung.
“I know,” he admits quickly, voice low. “That’s the part that kills me. It wasn’t one-sided. We were both stubborn, both tired, both so damn sure the other wasn’t listening. But the truth is—I didn’t say half the things I should’ve said. I didn’t tell you what I was really feeling before it was too late.”
His words tumble out, ragged, urgent, like he’s been holding them in for years. He shakes his head, eyes locking on yours. “It’s been three years, and I still think about that night. About what I should’ve said instead of letting the silence win.”
You shake your head, the ache in your chest twisting into something sharper. “Why are you telling me this now, Jay? What good does this do?”
His jaw tightens. “Because I never got the chance before. Because I can’t stand sitting across the table from you pretending like none of it mattered.”
You scoff, though your throat burns. “Three years. Three years, and suddenly now you want to talk? At Sunghoon’s engagement party? Really?”
“It’s not like I planned this,” he snaps, stepping closer. “But seeing you again—I can’t just bury it like before. I tried. I swear I tried.”
Your pulse hammers, your words tumbling out before you can stop them. “And what about Minji? You think she’d be fine with you dragging me out here for a little confession?”
Something flashes across his face—guilt, maybe—but he forces his tone steady. “This isn’t about Minji.”
“Of course it’s about her!” you fire back, voice cracking. “You’re with her. You chose her. So why—why are you saying this to me now?”
His hands flex uselessly at his sides. “Because it’s you. It’s always been you. And I can’t pretend otherwise when you’re standing in front of me.”
The words hit you like a blow, tearing the air from your lungs. For a moment, you just stare at him, shaking, because you don’t know whether to scream at him or fall apart in his arms.
Your lips part, but nothing comes out. The fire that had pushed your words a moment ago burns out too quickly, leaving you standing there, trembling, breath caught in your chest.
Jay notices—of course he does. He always did. His shoulders heave as he drags a hand down his face, voice rough around the edges now, less sharp and more desperate.
“God, I don’t even know what I’m doing,” he admits, shaking his head. “I didn’t plan on saying any of this. I just—” He swallows hard, eyes locking onto yours. “I saw you and it felt like no time had passed. Like I was twenty again, back in your car, arguing over nothing because I was too damn proud to admit I needed you.”
You flinch at the memory he throws between you. Still, you can’t move, can’t speak. Your silence seems to unnerve him more than anger ever could.
He laughs under his breath, but it’s hollow. “Look at me. Three years later, standing in a garden like some idiot, spilling my guts to you while you can’t even say a word back.”
You finally manage to whisper, “Jay…” but the rest dies in your throat.
His expression fractures—hope, regret, longing all at once. “I don’t know if I want you to stop me or tell me to keep going,” he says quietly, almost pleading. “But say something. Please.”
You open your mouth, ready to force something—anything—out, when a voice cuts through the night.
“Jay?”
Both of you turn. Minji stands a few feet away, her expression curious but edged with suspicion. Her hand is looped around her clutch, her posture too careful, like she’s already piecing together the scene.
Jay goes still. For one suspended second, the world holds its breath—just the three of you caught in the lantern glow, tangled in something fragile and dangerous.
He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, his eyes find yours again, and the look he gives you is heavy—apology, longing, something unfinished burning in the space between you.
Then, almost imperceptibly, he exhales and steps back. He watches Minji as she waits patiently for him, almost like she knew what was happening. Jay looked down at you, swallowing his tears before he straightened his jacket and brushed past you.
No words. Just a look that says everything he couldn’t.
The night air is cooler now, brushing against your skin as you and Jake step into the parking lot, the night coming to an end. Your heels click against the pavement, laughter spilling from your lips before you can even stop it.
“…and then he actually thought it was his drink,” Jake finishes, his grin wide and boyish. You double over, clutching your side, your joy echoing in the near-empty lot. For a moment, the weight of earlier slips away—you almost feel light.
Then you hear it.
“Y/N!”
Your name cuts across the distance, urgent and unshakable. You freeze mid-step, head snapping back toward the venue.
Jay stands framed in the glow of the entrance lights, his tie loosened, hair slightly mussed, chest heaving like he’d run to catch you before you left. His eyes are locked on yours, unwavering.
Jake follows your gaze, his laughter fading into a quiet hum of confusion. “You okay?” he asks, glancing between you and Jay.
I nod and turn back around, continuing my steps with Jake.
But Jay doesn’t give you a chance to answer. He calls again, louder this time, voice cracking on the last syllable. “Wait—don’t go.”
The parking lot stills, the air suddenly thick, and for a second, it feels like every choice you’ve avoided making has been dragged out into the open under the floodlights.
Jake shifts his weight, eyes narrowing slightly as he studies you. “Are you… gonna be okay?” he asks softly, his usual joking tone stripped away.
You swallow hard, your throat suddenly dry. “Yeah,” you manage, though the word feels fragile.
For a beat, Jake lingers, like he’s not convinced. But then he nods, squeezing your shoulder once before stepping back. “Alright. I’ll be at the car,” he says, giving you space, his footsteps fading across the lot.
The moment he’s gone, Jay starts moving forward. Slow at first, then faster, his stride purposeful, almost reckless, like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he doesn’t close the gap quick enough.
The distance shrinks until he’s right in front of you, breath uneven, eyes burning with everything he hadn’t said back there in the garden.
You don’t move at first. You just stand there in the middle of the parking lot, Jake’s footsteps fading into the distance, your pulse roaring in your ears. Jay looks wrecked—tie loose, shirt wrinkled, hair falling in a way that makes him look younger, almost like the boy you remember. But the weight in his eyes is heavier, older.
“I can’t let you leave like that,” he blurts, voice carrying across the empty lot. “Not again. Not without saying it.”
The words slice through you, a jolt straight to your chest.
“Saying what, Jay?” you demand, louder than you meant. Your throat tightens, but you push on, needing him to feel even half of what you’ve been carrying. “That you still think about me? That you can’t stop looking at me—even when she’s right there?”
His jaw tenses, but he doesn’t look away.
Your voice wavers, emotion bubbling up no matter how hard you try to keep it down.
“Do you even hear yourself? You’ve got Minji. She’s… she’s your girlfriend, Jay. She’s good for you, isn’t she? She’s smart, kind, perfect on paper. She’s everything I’m not. And you’re standing here asking me to what? Undo the last three years? Just—blow everything up because you suddenly can’t handle seeing me?”
The tears you’d been fighting spill over, hot against your cheeks. You laugh once, sharp and bitter, the sound hollow in the open air.
“God, do you have any idea how cruel that is? To say this now? To put this on me like it’s fair?”
Jay flinches like your words cut him open, but still he doesn’t step back. He takes a breath, shaky but steady enough to force the words out.
“I don’t want her.” His voice is quiet, ragged. “I don’t want someone who just… fits. I want you. I’ve always wanted you.”
Your chest seizes. The confession twists the knife deeper, makes it harder to breathe. “Then why didn’t you fight for me back then?” you cry, voice breaking as the tears come harder. “Why now, Jay? Why here, of all nights—when I finally thought I was okay?”
He shakes his head, eyes wild like he’s desperate to make you understand.
“Because I was scared. Because I was stupid. Because I thought letting you go was what you needed.” His voice cracks, raw. “And the second I saw you tonight, I realized I never stopped wanting you. I never stopped—” His breath falters, chest heaving. “You’ve haunted me for three years, and I can’t walk away again without you knowing that.”
You wrap your arms around yourself, trembling. Every word feels like it rips you open further. You want to scream at him, tell him it’s too late. You want to collapse into him, tell him you wanted him just as much. Instead, you just shake your head, overwhelmed.
“Do you even hear yourself?” you whisper hoarsely. “She thinks you’re hers. She thinks you’re building a life with her. And now you’re telling me—what? That none of it matters? That I should just ignore the fact that you’ve been with her this whole time?”
Jay’s face twists, guilt flashing across it like lightning. He steps closer, his voice almost breaking. “I know how this looks. I know I’m asking you to hate me. But nothing with her has ever come close to what I had with you. Nothing.”
Your breath hitches, shoulders shaking harder. “Stop,” you beg, but it comes out broken. “Please, just stop. I can’t—”
Jay hesitates, his hands twitching like he’s on the verge of reaching for you. But he doesn’t. He just stands there, close enough to touch, far enough that the space between you feels like a chasm.
For a long, unbearable moment, you’re both caught in the silence—your tears falling freely, his chest rising and falling like he’s barely holding himself together.
And when you finally meet his eyes again, there’s no mistaking it: regret, longing, and the terrifying truth that nothing between you has ever really ended.
Jay drags a hand through his hair, pacing a step like he can’t contain himself. Then he looks at you, voice trembling but fierce.
“Give me another chance,” he says. “Please. I’ll break it off with Minji tonight if I have to. I don’t care how messy it looks—I don’t care what people say. None of it matters if it means I get to fix this with you.”
You blink through tears, your heart lurching. “What? You’re asking me to believe you, just like that? After three years? After everything?”
“I’m not asking you to believe me,” he insists, stepping closer, his voice cracking. “I’m asking you to let me prove it.” His chest rises and falls sharply, his hands shaking as they hover uselessly at his sides. “I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll wait. I’ll beg.”
And then he does.
Jay sinks down onto his knees right there in the parking lot, gravel digging into his slacks, but he doesn’t flinch. His eyes shine in the dim light, wet at the edges, his voice hoarse as he looks up at you.
“Please,” he whispers. “Don’t tell me I’ve lost you for good. Not when I finally know I can’t live without you.”
Your tears burned hot as they streaked down your cheeks, and you swiped at them furiously, half-ashamed of letting him see you like this. Jay was still kneeling, his suit pressed into the gravel, eyes never leaving yours. His voice broke into the silence again, thick with pleading.
“Please, Y/N. Don’t walk away from me. Not again.”
“God, Jay—” You choked out, shaking your head. “Stand up. People could see us out here. Do you have any idea how ridiculous this looks?”
He didn’t budge. His hands had dropped to clutch at the hem of your skirt, his grip tight, trembling as if you might vanish if he let go. His forehead nearly touched your knees.
“I don’t care if the whole damn world sees,” he said, his words muffled but raw. “I’ll stay down here until you give me an answer. I need to know—do I still have a chance with you, or am I already dead in your eyes?”
His shoulders shook, but his grip on your skirt only tightened. He looked up at you then, and you almost wished he hadn’t—the naked devastation in his eyes carved through your anger like nothing else could.
“She’s not you.” The words cracked out of him like a confession, desperate and shameful. “She never was. She never will be. I thought maybe I could bury it, maybe I could move on. But the second I saw you tonight, I knew I was lying to myself. I don’t want her—I want you. Always you.”
“Stop.” Your voice wavered, half a sob, half a command. “You don’t get to say that."
“I’ll break it off.” He surged forward on his knees, pressing his forehead into your thigh, his voice hoarse and frantic. “I’ll end it tonight. I’ll walk away from everything, I’ll burn it all down if that’s what it takes. Just tell me you’ll give me another chance, and I’ll do it.”
Your fingers twitched uselessly at your sides, aching to push him away, aching to pull him in. The sight of Jay—your Jay—reduced to this, clinging to your skirt like you were his last tether, undid something deep inside you.
“Get up, Jay,” you whispered, voice breaking. “Please, just get up. You’re humiliating yourself.”
“Not until you tell me,” he said, his tone steady even through the wreckage. His hand slid lower, curling around your ankle like he was anchoring himself. “Yes or no. Do I still have a place in your heart, or am I begging for nothing?”
Your lips trembled, words caught on the edge of your tongue. The parking lot stretched around you in silence, the distant hum of music from the party only making the moment more unbearable.
You were standing above him, shattering all over again.
And still, he wouldn’t let go.
The morning air is crisp, carrying the faint scent of damp grass and early blooms. You walk along the path of the quiet park, your sneakers crunching against gravel, heart still jittery from the night before.
You spotted him almost immediately: Jay leaning against a tree, hands shoved into his pockets, that same stubborn set to his jaw that you’ve always known.
“Hey,” he greets, voice low, hopeful, as if he’s been rehearsing this moment in his head a thousand times.
“Hey,” you reply, keeping your pace steady, though your stomach flips like it did in the parking lot.
He falls into step beside you. For a long moment, neither of you says anything, just walking side by side, the world around you both calm and distant. Finally, he stops, turning to look at you, eyes soft but intense.
“I just…” He takes a breath. “I’m not asking for perfection. I’m not asking for all the answers tonight. I just want a chance. I want to try again—with you. No lies, no excuses. I’ll do the work this time, I promise.”
You study him, searching for any sign that he’s playing with your heart, that last night was just another act of desperation. But there’s nothing there. Only the truth, raw and steady, and the same pull you’ve never been able to resist.
“I… I don’t know,” you whisper, voice small, shaky. “It’s not just about saying yes. It’s about trusting that you mean it.”
“I do,” he says simply. “Every word. And I’ll show you, every day if I have to.”
Your chest tightens, but something in you loosens. The hurt from before, the fear of heartbreak—they’re still there, but they’re not stronger than what you feel for him.
Slowly, carefully, you reach for his hand. His fingers wrap around yours instantly, warm, familiar, grounding.
“I’ll give you a chance,” you admit, voice firmer this time. “But don’t make me regret it.”
“I won’t,” he promises, a grin breaking across his face that makes your heart lurch. “I swear.”
© avtrns 2025 | please do not copy, repost, or translate
taglist: @iwaplant @kristynaaah @jjongsies @hsbae @hannahlovesenhypen @jenlunes
