âïœĄÂ°đ§àŸàœČ.âčâ â i believe in describing y/n as beautiful because yes. you are beautiful. thatâs a given, and you should be reminded of it â especially when youâre reading about your favourite person in the whole world.
before the age of 1, jaemin falls a countless number of times.
while learning how to get up on his own and walk; with the gentle support of his motherâs hands and the push of his fatherâs strengthâ he wobbles, and stumbles, and trips a hundred and thousand times before he finally learns to stand on his own two feet.
between the age of 1 to 3, too, jaemin falls down multiple times.
tripping over his own foot, losing balance of his still wobbly, weak legs, for he hadnât quite mastered the art of walking yet, and running was still a bit far ahead.
he falls a few many times, after getting too excited seeing his momma then attempting to rush to her with his tiny legs and the biggest grin on his face, only to fall flat on it when heâd tried to speed, before he got picked up with careful hands into a warm embrace as his chubby cheeks stained with wet tears from the hit.
at the age of 5, he realizes there are mean friends too.
he falls hard.
turns out preschool kids could be quite rough; he was play-fighting with his new classmates in his new school one moment, and the next, he was on the muddy floor of the playground, next to the slide, with a bruised knee and couple of nasty scratches on his arms.
that day, he went home with tears in his eyes and dried blood on his clothes, and the weight of a feeling he couldnât understand or name, but it was heavy, and ugly, and undesirable, and jaemin didnât like it.
later, he grew to know people called it âembarrassmentâ and âhumiliationâ.
at the age of 11, he gets into a fight for the first time.
with spiked up hormones that had newly arrived to him, just as to any growing teenager, and irritation that ignited within the blink of an eye, he throws a punch at a guy from the other class for reasons he can no longer remember, and gets one right back, and before he knows it, it keeps going back and forth until his homeroom teacher rushes in and pulls both of them apart before dragging them both to the principal.
he returns back to his house with scoldings written on the front pages of his school diary by his teacher, and anger lowly burning in the pit of his stomach and the back of his mind.
at the age of 16, jaemin thinks he falls again, but this time, thereâs no pain, or bruise, or blood â thereâs only this weird fluttering feeling in his stomach and a fuzzy blur in his mind that makes him stutter and lose words whenever he sees her.
jaemin falls for a girl, he thinks.
she has shiny black hair and pearl eyes, puffy cheeks, and pimples on her forehead too, but he finds them rather cute.
he likes the way she talks to the teachers and the way she laughs with her friends. her handwriting is messy, but sheâs smart and scores well. she doodles at the top corner of her notebooks.
and as jaemin admires her from afar, he falls.
but 16-year-old jaemin falls alone.
the pretty girl stays still and indifferent; she looks over at his direction a few times, but her gaze focuses somewhere far behind where he stands, at someone whoâs not him. and she smiles, but itâs not for him.
itâs never for him.
he decides he will never fall again.
but, at the age of 18, jaemin falls again â the hardest heâs ever fallen.
he falls on his entire body, trembling and aching, and his leg is stuck under the bike, whose tires still roll on even as the vehicle lays sideways, flat on the road after the crash.
he tugs and tugs until heâs able to get his legs out of the gap, and he crawls over to the body that lays still and unmoving on the harsh ground.
he feels his two hands hanging helplessly against his sides, and he doesnât know what to do with them.
should he hold them together tightly against his chest and pray, pray, pray for a miracle and for all of it to get better? or should he stretch them out into the open and doâ something, anything?
but no one had ever taught him what to do with empty hands.
he reaches out and puts his two hands together, pressing against the deep wound, hoping for something to make it all better â but the bleeding doesnât stop; it only stains his pale hands a bright vermillion.
and that emptiness that had become a part of him stays embedded within his skin, but it turns red today.
itâs the brightest color heâs ever seen, and he feels dizzy.
who wouldâve known that the brightest things could also be such thieves, such horrible, horrible nightmares?
jaemin falls onto his hands and knees, and watches helplessly as his best friend lays on the bed of the earth, eyes blankly staring up at the ceiling of the world, as he gives life back every breath and ounce of love that he had ever been given.
every bit of it.
jaemin feels something drip down his face, and itâs wet, and it makes him want to crawl out of his skin.Â
he isnât sure if itâs his own tears or someone elseâs life that taints his skin.
it is only when he is 18, that jaemin believes heâs not alone for the first time in life.
he falls like he always has, again, but this time, someone falls with him.
they fall together, down and hard. but he gets up alone.
jaemin wishes heâd fallen on his own.
he wishes he always falls on his own, now. never with someone else.
( â )
at 23, jaemin falls again.
itâs been long since the last time, and heâs scared, but one thing heâs realized over the years is that - you can never control when, how and why you fall.Â
so he falls.
he falls for starry eyes and a sunshine smile, the scent of sandalwood and citrus; for gentle hands and a warm embrace; for cherry-flavored chapsticks and stargazing, and with every bit of the universeâbecause it held you.
he keeps falling.
but youâre right there with him, and youâre falling too, and this time, he never hits rock-bottom.
he still gets scratches every now and then, and pain and grief grazes past him ever so often, but one look at you, and he realizes that falling was never supposed to be harmless and rainbows, after all.
it would hurt, but it would also give him back a thousand more moments of happiness and bliss.
perhaps, he thinks, heâd never recognize the face of joy if he didnât drown in something of the complete opposite.
jaemin falls, falls, and falls.
he falls for the dreamy look in your eyes and the way you cackle at his jokes no matter how unfunny they are; he falls for the dates that you prepare for you two in the back of your car, with fairy lights and all things bright, and he falls for the warmth of your body and your words and your presence.
he falls for you and everything that comes with you, and he keeps falling. he believes when told that â all the falls heâd taken till this very moment was all to mount up to you.
and he thinks, one day, heâll forgive himself and the universe, because youâre here now.
đ€ ÖŽÖ¶Öž đ STRAY KIDS : SMILING WEIRD AT THEM UNTIL THEY NOTICE
genre: fluff, crack, pranks
pairing: skz x reader
bringing the tiktok pranks back bcs i need funny headcanon ideas to write đđđ»
some member's parts might be a bit shorter than the rest bcs i wrote some while being sugar high at 2:50 in the morning so pls excuse that
leave comments, reblog, and feedbacks pls <3
đ€ CHAN : â
is 70% concerned 30% holding his laugh
you approached him and started a normal conversation on a very normal thursday afternoon so he thought everything was nice and ok in the house and with you???
he guesses not, a minute or two into the talk đ
bcs why are you smiling at him in a way that would summon his sleep paralysis demon at night???
he already sleeps so less now he fears he will have to sleep even less.
is too worried to say anything about it because what if this is actually your true smile and youâre just getting comfortable around him and he hurts your feelings by making a comment about it?
right????
but heâs also starting to get scared because wHAT HAPPENED TO HIS BABY YOUâVE NEVER DONE THIS BEFORE đđđ WHAT WENT WRONG âïž
PLS BRING THEM BACK đđ»đđ»đđ»
doesnât say anything but gets so tensed during the convo and gives you this look that has you breaking character shortly after, bcs you burst out laughing and going back to that cute big smile he was used to and the one he adored.
(sorry, writer-break-in: now if anyone comments abt how they ugly laugh, iâm gonna smash my guitar on your head. chris says thatâs cute, so itâs cute. you donât get a say.)
then heâs like âoh âșïž thatâs it. here they are <3â
thinks about it when he lays in his bed at night tho
might make him rethink everything and consider your health (mental & physical) for a couple days đđđ»
đ€ MINHO : â
right, ok. so, he notices it so quick
this man is VERYYY very very observant and he knows you like the back of his hand
so the moment you flash your worst smile as heâs in the midst of talking, taking just the chance when he looked to the side for a secâ
he catches it from his peripheral vision, snaps his head at you and he goes đ€šâïž (15% concerned 85% judging)
stares at you silently for a while after that, trying to figure you out
đ§đ»đŸâïž (yes.)
when you act completely normal and ask him why he stopped, telling him to continue and all that, he cautiously goes back to saying what he had been talking about
but then you pull your shit again and he catches it this time too right away
(bcs heâs always looking at you when heâs talking. he looks at you when youâre talking too. he looks at you. he just loves looking at you, thatâs honestly it. bro is just an eye-contact and make their knees weak type of person)
and he knows he isnât high
looks straight at you and goes â âwhatâs wrong with this one... đâ
and youâre all like âwhat??? đ đŠżđŠż whatâs wrong w me???â bcs how dare he say that in that tone
âwhy are u making yourself look like that plushie whose face doongie scratched up last weekâ
LMAOOOO đđđ SAVE YOURSELF
so youâre throwing hands now (& terribly failing) and this is the only part of your stupid prank that minho is finding fun
đ€ CHANGBIN : â
HELP.
doesnât know if he should laugh or cry someone pls take him away from you đđđ»
heâs just casually telling you about this sick rap that he came up with yesterday night in the studio
and youâre nodding and laughing, and he turns to focus on you more and finds you like: đ i mean đč???
and the lOOK THAT PASSES THROUGH HIS EYES AND THE WAY HIS SMILE DROPS SO SLOWLY
WITH AN EYE TWITCH TOO
LORD HELP ME
no HELP SEO CHANGBIN ACTUALLY
bro freezes but then he tries to play it chill, chuckling and being like âright... đâđ» hahah hahahahah so i was saying... â
but you keep doing it and he canât ignore it anymore đ
â...baby whatâs wrong? do you feel sick?â and that too in such a scared voice yOU CAN'T KEEP UP THE ACT ANYMORE
once you tell him itâs a prank, relief washes over him like cold water on a scorching hot summer day and he laughs along with you
might haunt him when heâs alone in his studio at midnight tho
đ€ HYUNJIN : â
judges you.
no iâm not even gonna try to be funny first
HE JUDGES đšââïž
you do it and he instantly goes âđŠđŁ what the fuckâ
and youâre like âwhat? what happened?â
and he doesnât even know what to say
then he switches up just as quickly and starts yapping again
but you do it again too
and heâs so fed up he goes âdude tf wrong w u đâ
and when you keep doing it, he starts iMITATING YOU TO MOCK YOUđđ
now youâre both just flaring your teeth and gums at each other while cackling in between too, and anyone watching wouldâve started praying honestly
later that day, after finding out it was a prank heâs just thinking... why is my partner like this... đ
he loves u tho <3
đ€ JISUNG : â
honestly bro...
he finds you adorable :(
like, you guys are casually talking one evening
and heâs telling you about this new anime he watched recently, that almost made him cry
and heâs telling you the amazing sad plot and all, and out of nowhere you just đ
first heâs really caught off guard bcs... girl (gn!) what đ i said??? i almost???? CRIED??? HEARTBREAK?????
but then he just looks at you as you keep up w the goofiness when he speaks again, and he thinks to himself
:(âi love this idiot so much even tho i do feel half irritated and offended right nowâ
bcs even if youâre pulling your ugliest smile rn, he loves that sparkle in your eyes as you stifle a laugh back and the way almost break character everytime you make eye contact with him
sorry guys this is getting soft but
jisung just loves you very much âčïžâčïžâčïž
prank is all forgotten, you are just two young people in love <3
đ€ FELIX : â
i would say he already knows what the trend is, but thatâs really boring so letâs pretend that heâs actually getting fooled here.
the moment he sees u doing it, that epic felix thing happens againâ where his smile gradually just drops and he has that :0 face in the funniest way
he isnât sure if he should speak bcs what if that unleashes more of that demon in u đ
heâs torn between two things actually: should he hug you and try to squish the demonic smile out of you, or should be just stay away and give u your space until ur okay again
bcs he isnât sure about how fine you are with the way youâre smiling at him right now
he might just be like:
âhaha hahahahah hahahah ok we laughed now can we pls have my partner and their sweet smile back đâ
genuinely doesnât know what to do
half of him is scared, half finds you very cute, some other bits are thinking of ways to get back on a a prank of his lololololz
he decides to continue speaking bcs maybe youâll get distracted by the talk and come back to him normally again
doesnât happen. so now heâs just there and thinking abt how to fix u đđđ»
đ€ SEUNGMIN : â
you hate him
you hate him so bad
he doesnât give you any reaction AT ALL đđđ»
you start off gentle at first, right, like doing it when he wasnât looking and then gradually more intensely and so he could clearly see
but nothing. no weird looks. no comments. no judgement.
NOTHING AT ALL?!^#^*@#,
at some point you get all up in his face and youâre like đđđđčđđđđčđđâïžâïžâïž
and mf just keeps talking like nothing is wrong or off
it gets you more and more frustrated with each passing second but man, if youâd put that irritation aside and looked more closely into his facial expressions,
you wouldâve seen the way the corner of his mouth lifted in the slightest and that glint of mischief in his eye
but you donât đ
when you finally give up and go âbabe why arenât you asking me why iâm smiling weird??? đâ
he... he says... heâs likeâ
âhuh? but donât you always smile like that?â
damn y/n đ„đ thatâs how it was huh
youâre abt to poke his eyeballs out and then shit tears yourself
jk dw tho heâs just teasing you
he stays with felix enough to know about these ideas
and from how youâve done multiple pranks on him before, everytime you do something weird or out of place now, he just assumes youâre onto some prank
đ€ JEONGIN : â
HE GETS SCARED PLS DONTđ
NO LIKE he actually starts taking it in all the wrong ways
when he sees you smiling like that.. thereâs this STORM of emotions that starts cooking up inside him đ
âare they okâ âare they mad at me and trying to play it offâ âis this a trick moveâ âis this a prank and if so how should i react that it would make me seem cool andââ
but then... SUDDENLY
he suddenly remembers this piece of information he read on the internet LONG time back, like, AGES ago !! that said like
if someone is having a stroke or about to, their smile will be crooked / really weird and off/abnormal
....
no way... right ?
HIS BABY đđđ„șđ„șđđđ (emojis are satire im notâ)
â...baby đšđ° i think... i think youâre about to have a stroke đŁ or ARE YOU HAVING IT ALREADY đ°đąđą HAS IT STARTEDđâïžâ
now ur not sure if u should stop or continue and whether u should laugh, cry or bonk him in the head
If you're ever by a stream with a lot of trout, keep your eyes open for the little souls of Victorian businessmen that swirl about in there. You see, they didn't have enough fun in life, so this is how they make up for it. Or so I'm told.
warnings: mention of alcohol, swearing, nothing too heavy.
â : moving on didnât mean forgetting. you knew that. but guess youâd never moved on from the boy with pretty brown eyes and an odd way of expressing love, after all.
The bright lights of the barâthough very aestheticâhit you right in the eyes and blurred your already hazy vision.
Music blasted from the speakers from almost every side; some were dancing their hearts out to it, some were sitting in groups and gossiping away with drinks in their hands, some were making out very loudly and openly in the most random spots, and some searching for company to take home for the night.
Others were slumped against the counter, drinking their life away.
All that grief, pent up frustration, anger, regrets, every bit of emotion they did not want to feel â people drowned it away with alcohol, or at least tried their hardest to, and with it, they, too, drowned.
You wondered it they realized that.
You did.
And you were one of them today.
You were drunk out of your mind.
That shouldâve knocked you out, made you forget every worry and every regret, right? That was what you had come here looking for. That was what half of the crowd had come here for.
And it had seemed to work out for many of them. Most of them.
Except, in your case, all the drinks you had just consumed seemed to have made you focus on the exact thing âor rather, the exact personâyouâd wanted to wash away with the alcohol.
Fuck your mind, and your body, and your stupid dumb self for holding him so deep within you, beyond what any alcoholic drink could reach.
You missed Lee Minho out of your mind.
2 years of pining, 3 years of dating, and going out on the most perfect dates; of noticing all those little things about each other â how he liked his food a bit spicier than normal, including eggs, because youâd wake up in the morning to find him pouring bulddak sauce over it, and how you always needed a whole carton of milk next to you whenever you ate with him.
How he would start blinking rapidly when he was uncomfortable or shy, and how youâd pick on your nails whenever youâd get anxious;
Years of growing together, and watching and helping the other person become the brightest version of themselves, and falling in love with each other a little more after every argument and every fall-out.
Years of getting so used to having the other one around; blindly and confidently believing that it would go on forever; holding each other the closest to your hearts, and loving each other thinking that it would never run out.
And it hadnât.
Not from your side, at least.
But life had always had its unexpected ways of breaking and mending and flipping things, and people, and lives, as it pleased.
As you and Minho grew, you changed too. With age and new experiences came new perspectives and new dreams and new beliefs.
Youâd known that, both of you, and youâd thought you could handle it, that you could get through it together, just like you always had in the past too.
It had never affected you,
until it did.
All of a sudden, you and Minho had reached a point where you both had completely different visions of how you wanted to go on with your lives.
Fights that youâd always make up for before the night ended â turned into days of not talking; biting your tongue to refrain from spitting out words you both knew you didnât mean and would regret later â turned to shouting it all out on each otherâs faces; and never being able to find reasons to part ways turned into counting those reasons to stay.
Lee Minho was a hurricane. The prettiest one, too.
He was the strong winds, that was meant to flow to every city and every town, that urged to climb the highest of mountains and fall down through all the valleys, and whirl around again, and again, and around, till it reached every corner of the earth â never settling, never trapped, never tied down to one place.
He wanted to go beyond what his hometown held; to see the world that existed across itâjust some flights, trains and rides away, could you believe that?âand meet new faces, make new friends, try new cultures, fall in love with new places andâ
You hadnât been ready for change.
You had loved that familiarity of your neighbourhood, and the streets that always smelled like the tastiest snacks of your area, and those flower shops near your house where you formed the loveliest bond with the elderly ladies selling them, whoâd gift you bouquets for free sometimes as youâd pass by. Youâd adored seeing those faces that youâd been seeing around for all the past years.
Youâd loved being in that place that felt like home, that was filled with people of your own kind â who knew you and adored you.
You hadnât wished for any of that to change. You had never thought it would.
You hadnât wanted it to.
So, when Minho had started telling you that he wanted to move away, leave the city behind and look at the faces of all the different lives he could be living and loving⊠you hadnât taken it well.
Both of you had tried to hold on â you really had.
But the tighter youâd held onto the rope, the more it had stung, the more you had bled, and the more it had stretched, and stretched, and stretched, until it finally got shredded into pieces that you didnât know how to put back together.
You had loved him beyond reason, beyond words, beyond explanation, and beyond everything that fell in between.
Hell, you still did.
It was these endless thoughts of him, and those bittersweet memories of your old joys that had dragged you to this place.
People would think six monthsâhalf a year, that isâwould be enough to leave an ex behind. But maybe, that was the problemâMinho had never been just a âboyfriendâ to you, so neither was he just an âexâ now.
He had been your best friend, your safest haven, your comfort person and your happy place.
He had been everything.
He had been everything.
Even in those times when you guys used to fight, and youâd get upset because of something he said or did, he would still be the only person you would seek comfort from. When you would have a terrible day at work, he would be the only one whose face you wanted to see, whose voice you wished to hear and the only one who you wanted to go home to and rest in the arms of.
When you had your best day in weeks, too, he would be the one you wanted to share all that joy and excitement with.
All of lifeâs ups and down. You wanted to experience that rollercoaster with Minho, and just him, and no one else.
It wasnât that you had spent these six months crying and wallowing in self-pity, missing him and weeping about him.
No, you had been continuing with your life. Youâd had amazing moments without himâyou had spent some of the happiest times of your life with your friends and your family, and youâd had your good days, bad days, tiring days, fun days, and life was going on just the way it always had;
The only thing that had become different was the absence of his presence, that you were not used to and didnât want to get used to, no matter how much you denied it.
You guessed it was the thing about not being able to move on from a personâ you missed him, always.
Even when you were having the best time of your life, and when you were not, too.
You missed him even when your mind didnât whisper his name into the depths of the night.
Even if youâd go on for days without thinking of him, youâd work and pace around your kitchen one summer night, and sit down at the table to realize youâd made dinner for two when it was now just you.
And youâd feel like crying, and youâd wish he was around, still there to call your crying face ugly before he pulled you into the softest hug and held you until you were no longer drowning.
Even if you wouldnât feel like breaking down when you looked at pictures of him or you two together anymore, youâd drive past that one restaurant you guys used to love, on a rainy afternoon, and youâd wish he was sitting beside you, making snarky comments to tease you and get a reaction out of you; telling you in his sweetest voice âIdiot! You just drove past our place! Am I that distracting? I mean⊠Yeah, I know I am, but you should focus when youâre driving, baby.â
And youâd threaten that youâd fasten his seatbelt like a trap around him, speed the car up heading towards a tree, and then jump out to leave him to crash â and heâd cackle in that way youâd always adored, before quickly saying, âIâll charge you for murder thoughts and murder attempt later, come on, pull over now!â
Fuck.
You were bereft of Lee Minho.
You missed his playful kisses, and the way heâd run from you when you came to him for hugs but then pull you right back into his arms the moment you got upset and turned to leave. You missed the kisses he would press just beside your lips, on your chin and your cheeks, and your nose and quite literally everywhere else, teasing you to the very edge, before he finally pressed his sweet lips on yours; and you missed the breakfast he would make you while you would still be sleeping in his bed. You missed being able to steal his pretty shirts and sleep in them whenever heâd be away.
You missed life with him. All of it, and all of him.
You missed it.
It was like, missing him came in waves and sometimes, you didnât even realize you were drowning until you hit rock bottom.
Living and loving had never felt the same from the moment Minho had slipped away.
And it was only these things and these thoughts that had been playing in your mind for the longest time now, so as you sat there in that bar, drunk out of your mind and yet still, thinking of nothing and no one else but him, you didnât think as you pulled out your phone from your bag with clumsy hands, almost dropping it as you gripped it in your hands.
The light of your phone flashes on your face as it clicks open, and you scroll through every name in your contacts until you find his.
âSnowball đ«€â€ïžâ
Right.
Youâd never changed it after the break-up.
Snowball. It was an inside joke.
Youâd pestered him for a whole week to watch âThe Secret Life of Petsâ with you, because you loved it and you wanted to watch it again, and this time, with him.
Throughout the entire movie, youâd laughed that he and that adorable evil bunny were basically the same character, and heâd grunted and scowled at you, acting all offended, but then smiled so tenderly when you werenât looking (or so heâd thought). Since that day forth, youâd called him your own âsnowballâ; sometimes calling him âyour cute lovely sweet munchkin bunnyâ in the cringiest tone you could pull, just to see him make a face and threaten you that heâd put cat piss in your drink and block you on all social media.
Youâd even changed his contactâs name to it. Youâd never changed it back after.
You wish you had, now.
Because as you stared at that name with a vision so blurry, âfrom the drinks or from your tears, you couldnât tellâ you felt the regret, and desperation, and longing that youâd been trying to hold off since so long, crawl up to your throat and claw at your insides, and it ached.
Your fingers finally moved to press on the screen, and suddenly, before you even knew it, you were ringing your ex-lover up.
Ha.
Where were all those sexy kind ladies who stopped girls from drunk-hitting their ex up when you needed them?
Perhaps it was all in your head, but in that moment, you thought the bar ran completely silent all of a sudden. It was only the ringtone that you could hear, and with it, anxiety broke in through the barriers of your alcohol and creeped in around you and within you, coiling in.
It ringed. Ringed, ringed, ringed.
Nothing.
It continued ringing; you laughed. At yourself, at him, at the wasted people in that damned bar, and at the world, for having brought you where you were right now.
Of course, he wouldnât pick up. Why would he? Who would anyone pick up a call from someone they had ended everything with months agâ
ââŠY/N?â
You stopped breathing; you didnât blink, you didnât move, you didnât speak.
You couldnât.
What if this was all a fragment of your imagination that would break the second you did anything?
âHello?â
But it came again â that sweet voice in the softest tone, the exact one you had missed more than youâd realized.
You mustered up all you had left, and spoke up in the gentlest of volume, âMinâŠâ
That damned nickname and that damned voice, cursed Minho in his head as he stood on the other line.
But youâd never know that, of course.
The line went quiet for a quick second, but he talked again. âAre you⊠drunk?â
It made you chuckle.
Even after all this time, one word from you and he knew what was up. How could you have let that go? How could you have let it all go â everything that you both had had?
âNo⊠I mean, yes, no. Iâ just a little. Iâm good.â you slurred out, and the boy over the phone didnât need anything more to know you were lying.
But he stayed quiet.
And you didnât know when or how, but that silence between youâthat had always been a form of comfort and assuranceâhad turned into something that pained, something rather unbearable.
So, you broke it.
And you just started rambling; maybe it was the drink, or the nervousness, or the fear, or all of it actually, but you just⊠you couldnât stop talking. It felt like youâd be swallowed up whole by your own thoughts if you stopped.
So you went on.
âI⊠I know youâre probably well and have been doing well, and I probably shouldnât have called, because I know it would only mess us up again, but⊠I was just, I was here and then, Iâ And⊠I donât know. I justâ I donât know. I really donât know. I wasâ You were on my mindâ I mean, no, you werenât, what? But youâ I... I donât know. I donât know, Iâm sorry. I shouldnât have called. I-â
âY/N.â, he cut you off and you finally took a breath. âItâsâ Itâs fine.â
You heard him inhale sharply before he continued. âYou should call someone to pick you up. Go home. Itâs late, and you donât handle alcohol well.â
He remembered that too. Of course, he did.
You wanted to smile about it, but it felt unfair for some reason.
Was he caring for you or rushing you to stop the shit you were pulling and go home?
âNo.â is all you end up saying back to him after seconds.
ââŠHuh? What?â
âNo. I... No. I will not go. Iâ I have toâ No, I want to... I have to tell you. I mean- I donât know. I canât go. I wonât go.â
And you could hear the confusion in his voice as he spoke again, and if it wasnât your mind playing games on you, you think there was the slightest hint of concern laced in it, too. âWhatâs wrong? What do you have to tell me?â
You tried so hard to get all those fragments of words and feelings that blurred inside your head and make them make sense for yourself, and for him.
But how was one supposed tell their person that despite having had half a year to move ahead and find new people, you hadnât and you couldnât and you didnât want to? After the way it had ended, after the reason that led to it, that all made so much sense.
âIâm sorry, can youâ can you just give me a minute?â and you hoped with every ability you had left in you, that he would not hang up as you requested him in a meekly voice.
There was no answer from his side, but the line hadnât cut off yet either.
You took your chances; gathering every ounce of strength and thinking ability you had left until you formed concrete thoughts and words in your mind before you said it all aloud â real and declared.
You would never be able to take them back. And you hoped, as you put it out in the open, that you would never want to.
âItâs been months, and I know that I donât have any right to call you up like this on a random late Monday night, but I justâ I donât think itâs working out for me, Min. This whole moving on and leaving us behind thing. Itâs not working out. I canât do it.â your body forces you to take a breath before you continued any further â your voice wouldâve started to crack, otherwise.
Maybe it already had.
âIâve tried so hard. I really have. And I thought it was working, you know? Like, I get up every morning and youâre not on my mind, and I can get through my evening coffee just fine, without thinking about how youâd usually shout from the living room at this time, asking where Iâd put the cat toys. And I come home from work on Saturday nights and donât expect to see you waiting for me on the couch anymore, and I can go on for weeks without wondering how youâre doing or where you are. I can do that, I have done that. So, I thought it was all fine.â
And there it goes, your voice started trembling in just the slightest, and Minho noticed it. Like heâd always noticed everything.
He didnât say anything about it, though, he just listened. And you talked. Again.
âBut then, I meet someone new⊠andââ, you chuckle but it comes out sounding more like a soft cry.
âAnd I realize that I try to look for you in all of them, for those things you used to do. Like, how youâd always turn the stove off before the noodles got too soft whenever youâd cook us ramen because we like them that way, or how you know that weird but cool trick of turning an inside-out shirt right as you wore it on directly, or how youâd draw stickman figures on my hand when we cuddled, and just... all those little things you used to do. I look for them. And Iâ I meet people and I canât connect to them.â
Your emotions were at the verge of bleeding out now; you had tears welling up in the corner of your eyes, rapidly spreading now, ready to slip off and down your now flushed cheeks.
âItâs like Iâve forgotten how to fall in love after you, Minho.â you spat out with all honesty. âI donât know what to do.â
And it all finally broke.
You were now sobbing hysterically, and you tried to keep the noises down and muffled as you pressed the back of your hand against your mouth but they all fell out anyway; each one fluttering all the way out till it reached the boy, who gripped his phone with knuckles that had grown white, in a shaky hand, as he stood there, just right across the screen of your phone.
If only he could reach you.
And if he had been any good with words, he wouldâve told you about it all too. His lines of the story.
How heâd gone and done what he had dreamed of, what he had left everything for â he had travelled to countless countries, countless cities, met all kinds of people, tried so many types of foodâall of it.
All that he had desired.
Heâd also tell you about how he got stuck in his hotel room in Sweden with no toilet roll, and could not figure out, for the sake of his life, how to explain to the receptionist that he needed a new one urgently, because neither did she speak Korean, nor did he know the basics of Swedish.
That experience had taught him to never step foot on a different land than his own without knowing the basics of their language.
So, if he had been any good with words, heâd tell you all about the adventures heâd had after heâd left home with the tiniest bit of details, and that there was still so much more he wanted to see and do, and perhaps, just perhaps, heâd also tell you about how none of it all, somehow, filled that space in his heart that heâd never noticed missing.
Heâd tell you that heâd explored so many of the places heâd dreamed of, but that after every travel, heâd go back to his hotel room at the end of the day and sit on the edge of his bed, fingers hovering over your name in his contacts, because there was no one else he wanted to talk about his day with; no one else whose day he wanted to hear about.
All those friends heâd made and all those strangers whose heart he had so swiftly won over â he did not want to book tickets with them together for new movies or new flights, to new places.
He wanted to do it with you.
He hated himself for having never realized it, when you had been right there with and beside him for him to have asked you to do it all.
Yes, heâd told you he wanted to go out, heâd told you about all of those dreams, but heâd never asked you to join in with him.
Why hadnât he?
If Lee Minho had been any good with words, heâd tell you that heâd seen so much of the world the way heâd wanted to, but had felt bliss slip right through his reach when he turned and realized â that he wanted to you to be there, to be holding your hand, and taking your pictures in the prettiest views heâd ever seen.
You wouldâve made it all perfect.
Everything gorgeous, and beautiful, and lovely had felt a thousand shades duller to him, and thatâheâd realizedâonly you wouldâve fixed.
He would tell you, after holding it within his heart and denying it for so long, that he did not want to see any corner of the world anymore if he wouldnât be able to find you, hiding there to spook him and then pepper kisses all over his face with giggles and laughter and everything that he had ever loved.
But Minho was not good with words; never had been; so, he eats the silence, and speaks it, too.
You couldnât stop the tears no matter how much you wiped them away, and you were too scared to speak because you knew your voice had given up. You would only hiccup and gasp and break further if you opened your mouth. That was for sure.
But he, on the other line, too, was not muttering a word andâ
God, you felt so pathetic.
âWhere are you?â he suddenly asked, voice quieter and softer than before, breaking you out of your state.
You let out a sound of confusion; unsure of what youâd heard while also not wanting to speak up in your currently poor condition.
âWhere are you right now? Whatâs the name of the bar youâre in?â he asked once again, a little louder this time.
The gears in your mind were turning very slow, and when he heard the silence from you end again, he cut in.
âYou know what, send me your location. You donât have to say anything.â
You hear him moving around hastily, and within seconds, heâs telling you something again. âStay there. Donât hang up either.â
You followed his instructions, still half confused and drunk after having used up all your left energy into that emotional and embarrassing rant youâd cried out.
Very soon, followed sounds of his car keys jingling and some ruffles, then the click of a door, and you simply sat âor rather, slumped into your seat, leaning onto the table of the counter, almost dozing offâ and waited as Lee Minho started his car and set off to find his way to you.
Something in you knew he would. He always had.
And maybe, if the universe was on your side this time, heâd let you find your way back to him too.
