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jazziwritesthings · 10 days ago

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The Arrangement Part II

Yugyeom always had to take a moment to compose himself before walking into the house.

Their house.

The word tasted foreign, almost ironic. He was barely ever here. Most nights were spent at his office or holed up in his condo, where the walls didn’t echo with silence or memories he didn’t ask for. But lately, even those places couldn’t protect him. Guilt was catching up to him. Guilt—for abandoning a wife he barely knew.

His wife.

That still didn’t feel real.

It had only been a year since Catherine died when he agreed to marry her sister. He still didn’t understand why he said yes. Maybe it was grief. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was the desperate hope that keeping Catherine’s family close would somehow keep a part of her alive.

But Y/N wasn’t Catherine. Not even close.

He’d barely known her before the funeral. Catherine had spoken about her often—her fun, wild sister who lived across the state. The stories painted her as bright, impulsive, full of life. So he’d been expecting... something else. Someone else.

But when they met, Y/N looked like death had already taken half of her. Her eyes were hollow. Her voice distant. She was breathing, but she wasn’t living.

He hated himself for even considering the arrangement when his parents suggested it. Hated himself more for going through with it.

Not because he hated her. But because every time he looked at her, all he saw was Catherine, it is crazy. And all the what-ifs that haunted him.

He should’ve stopped Catherine that day. Should’ve chased after her when she panicked. Should’ve held on tighter. Maybe she would’ve still been alive, and none of this would’ve happened. She would be here. She deserved this life.

And Y/N? She wouldn’t be punishing herself for something that wasn’t her fault.

This—this marriage—had become his penance. Taking care of the sister was the least he could do. But it was never enough. Not for her. Not for him.

He could feel her trying—trying to reach him, to connect, to exist. But he couldn’t give her what she wanted. What she needed, because she doesn't deserve it, it wasn't her fault that her sister is dead. Catherine's choice. She wasn’t Catherine, but she stood in her place like a ghost, and he couldn’t touch her without feeling the cold sting of memory.

He had been waiting for the divorce papers actually.

Quietly. Silently. With guilt and dread tangled like barbed wire in his chest.

He hadn’t expected her to hold on for this long. Honestly, he was surprised she hadn’t left a year ago

But maybe this—whatever this was—was she thought her punishment, too.

Once this was over, he hoped they could be... friends. Maybe. Something real, for once. But right now, she was living like a trophy on a shelf in a museum he couldn’t bear to visit.

And he was the man who locked the doors behind her.

The house was quiet when Yugyeom stepped inside. Too quiet.

Empty.

He stood in the entryway, his hand still on the doorknob, scanning the darkened interior as if expecting her to step out from the shadows.

Is this it?

He hadn’t even checked the garage. Didn’t think to. He’d texted her earlier, like always, saying he wouldn’t be home tonight. But plans changed. The meeting ended earlier than expected. It wasn’t even midnight yet.

Out of habit or something he couldn’t name he moved quietly up the stairs and pushed open the bedroom door. The room was dark, the bed untouched. Empty.

A strange unease settled in his stomach as he stepped inside.

He opened the walk-in closet. Her clothes were still there. Neatly arranged, untouched. That brought a breath of relief he hadn’t expected.

He pulled out his phone. No messages. No missed calls. Nothing from her.

He stared at the screen, his thumb hovering uselessly over the screen.

Where could she be?

In the two years they’d been married, Y/N had never left without telling him. Not once. She rarely left at all. Not because he stopped her but because she didn’t seem to want to. Her world had become the house. The schedule. The silence between them.

If she left, it was with him. Or to her parents’ house. Always predictable. Always controlled. And always with a message.

This wasn’t like her. And for the first time in two years, he panicked.

His chest tightened, something sharp and sudden clawing at his composure. He hadn’t even realized how deeply he’d relied on her constancy her presence in the house, even if they moved around each other like ghosts. There was a rhythm to it. A distance they both respected.

Yugyeom stood in the middle of the room, still and tense, trying to make sense of the silence.

His mind raced.

Then a memory flickered—faint but vivid. Catherine’s voice, teasing over coffee.

Y/N. The beach.

A rush of adrenaline surged through him as he grabbed his coat and keys.

The beach wasn’t far just outside the edge of the estate, tucked away behind a thin stretch of woods. The kind of place you’d only stumble on if you knew exactly where to look.

Midnight had passed by the time he pulled into the gravel lot. The ocean wind hit him the moment he stepped out of the car, cold and sharp. He walked down the narrow path, the sound of the waves growing louder, crashing against the shore like a slow heartbeat.

And then he saw her.

She was lying on the sand in her evening dress, barefoot, the hem tangled around her legs, hair whipped by the wind. A nearly empty bottle of wine sat in the sand beside her, tipped and forgotten.

For a moment, he just stood there. Watching her. His wife.

Y/N.

She wasn’t looking at him. She was looking at the stars, her lips moving—talking to someone who wasn’t there.

“...I think I’m gonna divorce him,” she slurred softly. “He deserves someone better. Not... not the crazy, twisted me.”

Something cracked in his chest.

She laughed quietly—broken and breathless. “Happy anniversary, I guess.”

Yugyeom swallowed hard.

He walked toward her slowly, deliberately, his shoes crunching softly in the sand. She turned her head at the sound, blinking up at him like she wasn’t sure if he was real.

“Yugyeom?” she whispered.

“You’re drunk,” he said quietly, crouching beside her.

“Didn’t think you’d notice,” she murmured, her eyes glossy. “Didn’t think you’d come home.”

“I didn’t think you’d leave.”

She gave a bitter smile. “I didn’t think I could.”

He looked at her really looked. Not through her. Not around her. Not past her shadow. For the first time in two years, he saw a woman unraveling at the seams, begging to be seen.

“It’s our anniversary,” she added, voice barely above the wind. “Didn’t think it mattered.”

Yugyeom sat beside her in the sand, silence stretching between them, thick with things unsaid.

“I remembered what Catherine said about you,” he finally spoke. “That the beach was your escape.”

“She remembered?” Her voice cracked. “She understood me more than I ever did.”

“I should’ve... known,” he said, voice low. “I should’ve seen what this was doing to you.”

Y/N closed her eyes, a tear slipping down.

“I didn’t want to be her,” she whispered. “But I didn’t know how to be myself anymore.”

Yugyeom looked out at the ocean, guilt roaring louder than the waves. “I didn’t marry you to punish you.”

“But you did. We're here.”

They sat there, the cold creeping in, the past pressing down on both of them.

Finally, he reached out, hesitant, and brushed the sand from her shoulder.

“Let’s get you home,” he said.

She didn’t argue.

She just nodded, exhausted and undone.

Yugyeom helped her into the house without a word. Y/N leaned on him only because she had no choice, her legs were unsteady, her limbs heavy from the alcohol and exhaustion. It was the closest they’d been in Years. Maybe ever.

The warmth of the house wrapped around them as they stepped inside, but it did little to ease the heaviness between them.

He guided her to the living room sofa, gently easing her down. She muttered something under her breath he couldn’t quite catch, eyes fluttering closed as her head leaned against the backrest.

“Wait here,” he said softly, almost unsure if she was still awake.

He disappeared briefly, returning with a warm blanket and a glass of water. She blinked at him when he draped the blanket over her legs, like she didn’t recognize the man in front of her.

“Thanks,” she whispered hoarsely.

Yugyeom sat across from her, elbows resting on his knees, hands loosely clasped. The silence buzzed. He didn’t know where to begin, or even if now was the right time but something told him waiting hadn’t served either of them.

“It’s our anniversary,” she said again, softly, like the words themselves were laughable.

He nodded. “I know.”

“Funny,” she murmured. “I don’t even remember how the day started.”

Yugyeom looked at her. Her hair was tangled from the wind, her cheeks pink from the wine. Her eyes, red-rimmed but clear now, met his—tired, but present.

“Why did you do it?” she asked. “Marry me.”

He exhaled slowly, the question hanging between them like a loaded gun.

“I don’t know,” he said, honesty cutting sharp and bare. “Guilt. Confusion. Because everyone said it would make things... easier.”

“Did it?”

“No.”

She gave a breathy, bitter laugh, leaning back against the couch. “Did you ever look at me and see me? Or was I always just... ?”

His jaw clenched. “I never meant to make you feel that way, nor seen you that way.”

“But you did. And here we are."

“I know.”

Another silence settled. This one deeper. Not angry. Just tired.

“I think I hated you a little,” she confessed, looking down at her hands. “Not because you were cruel. But because you weren’t anything. You never gave me anything, not even anger. I needed something to hold on to. Even if it hurt.”

Yugyeom looked down. “I didn’t know how.”

“You still don’t.”

He didn’t argue.

The clock ticked past one a.m. The world outside was quiet. Inside, too.

“I never wanted to take her place,” she said quietly. “I just didn’t know who I was without her.”

“I think,” he replied, voice low, “you’re starting to figure that out.”

She didn’t reply. But she didn’t look away either.

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jazziwritesthings · 10 days ago

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The Arrangement Part I

Yugyeom x Reader

Hi! I'm back! Sorry for being inactive. Here's a little Yugyeom AU. And I promise to continue other Got7 fics.

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Don’t wait for me. I won’t be coming home tonight.

You sighed as you read your husband’s text. With a weary flick, you turned off the stove and slipped off your apron.

“Looks like it’s just you and the fridge again,” you muttered to the meal you had cooked.

What did you expect from an arranged marriage? It’s been almost two years now, and yet living with Yugyeom still feels like sharing space with a stranger. You never hoped for romance, but maybe just maybe you thought you’d find a friend in him. Someone to talk to. Someone he comes home to. But the days pass by, and the silence in your house only grows heavier.

You barely see each other only at family dinners or company events where your presence is required. This wasn’t how you pictured marriage, with Yugyeom or anyone. You never dreamed of becoming a trophy wife.

With another sigh, you asked the maids to pack up the dinner. Then you headed upstairs to change, texting your best friend to say you were coming over and bringing food. The house felt too empty to stay in.

Bitch, where the hell is your husband?

You shook your head at Samantha’s reply. She had developed a healthy amount of hostility toward Yugyeom over time. You, on the other hand, had grown numb. The truth was, you and Yugyeom never had a relationship to begin with. Still, you had tried to build one, extended small bridges that he never crossed. He always kept his distance, and eventually, you stopped trying.

Busy.

That was all you texted back before tossing your phone aside and slipping on your shoes. You told the maids you were heading out—didn’t bother informing your husband. It wouldn’t matter anyway.

You picked up the packed food and the bottle of wine you'd chosen from the cellar earlier. On your way to Samantha’s, you called your lawyer to schedule a meeting for next week.

“Babe, come with me to Athens,” Samantha said, swirling her wine with flair. “It’s better than moping in that sad-ass mansion.”

“I’m not moping,” you said, a little too fast.

She shot you a look. That really? kind of look.

“Girl, you sit around all day like a good little wife, waiting for her husband to come home. That’s not you. Where’s the fun, driven version of you? Let her out of the basement.”

She had a point. Marriage had changed you. You quit your job, stopped seeing your friends, and barely went out unless it was for one of your husband’s events. Samantha hated it. Hated what you’d given up for someone who couldn’t even be bothered to try.

“I’m honestly shocked you’re still hanging on,” she added, shaking her head. “The you I knew wouldn’t have lasted a year in this bullshit.”

You didn’t have an answer. Maybe you were still hoping. Hoping one day Yugyeom would open up. That he’d finally see you.

Samantha narrowed her eyes. “Don’t tell me...”

“What?” you asked, wary.

“Are you still punishing yourself? Trapping yourself in this marriage because of her?”

You looked away, lips pressed into a tight line.

“Oh my god, Y/N,” she said, softly now. “It was never your fault.”

You couldn't help but bite your lip, your mind drifting back to what happened three years ago.

If only you hadn’t listened to your stubborn sister… maybe she’d still be here. Maybe you wouldn’t be trapped in this marriage, enduring this cold indifference. Catherine was the one who was supposed to marry Yugyeom not you.

It wasn’t an arranged marriage for them. They had a relationship. Maybe not wildly romantic, but at least there was friendship, history something real. They had agreed to marry with open eyes, not obligation.

But then, out of nowhere, Catherine got cold feet.

She asked to meet up that day. You didn’t know what her plan was she didn’t offer details, just asked to borrow your car. You hesitated. You needed it that day, and something about the whole situation felt off. Why had she taken the train just to ask for a car? Why in person? But she insisted it would be quick she was meeting someone nearby, she said.

So you gave in.

You had no way of knowing she’d never come back.

The roads were slick that night. She lost control. The brakes failed—or maybe she panicked. Either way, the crash killed her instantly. Cold. Lifeless. Just like that, she was gone.

“It wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t let her take the car,” you whispered to no one. “If anything… it should have been me driving that day.”

Samantha didn’t say anything—just watched as you blinked hard, your eyes fixed on a spot on the floor that wasn’t really there.

“I should’ve driven that day,” you said again, your voice quieter now. “She wouldn’t have crashed. She wouldn’t have died. And I wouldn’t be here, playing house with a man who can barely look at me.”

The truth spilled out like something rotten you’d been keeping down for too long.

“I keep thinking… maybe this is what I deserve. Maybe I’m supposed to live the life she left behind. Like some kind of penance.”

Sam sat up straighter, setting her glass down. “Y/N, stop.”

But you didn’t.

“Her wedding. Her house. Her husband. I took all of it. And you know what the worst part is? I said yes. When his parents came after the funeral grieving, trying to salvage something from the wreck I said yes. I didn’t even fight.”

“You were in shock,” Sam said gently. “You were grieving. You weren’t thinking straight—”

“I was guilty,” you interrupted. “I still am.”

There was a long pause. The kind that made your chest ache.

Sam reached over and took your hand, her grip firm.

“Listen to me,” she said. “You didn’t take her life. You loved her. You did what you thought was right in the moment and yeah, maybe it wasn’t perfect. But living in misery for the rest of your life won’t bring her back. It won’t undo anything.”

Her voice cracked just slightly. “You’re not honoring her by disappearing, Y/N. You honor her by living.”

That broke something inside you.

Not a loud crack, but a quiet, devastating shift like a glass breaking under water.

You didn’t respond. You just sat there, breathing, hand still in hers, trying to remember the last time someone held on like this.

“I don’t know what’s up with your husband,” Samantha said, shaking her head. “Why would he agree to marry you if he can barely look at you? You could’ve spared each other the misery by not agreeing to your shared insanity. What do you even want from him?”

You stared at her, but you didn’t have an answer. You never really had one.

For years, you didn’t know what you wanted from Yugyeom only that you were the one who stood in your sister’s place. You weren’t even sure if Catherine truly wanted this life, or if she was simply trying to do the right thing. But you?

You wanted him to feel something. To show anger. Grief. Blame. You wanted him to look at you and hate you, so at least you’d know he cared.

Instead, he gave you nothing. Not warmth. Not cruelty. Just polite indifference.

“I think… I just wanted him to scream at me,” you said quietly. “Blame me. Tell me I’m the reason she’s gone. I wanted to be punished, I guess. Instead, he treats me like I’m invisible. Like I don’t even exist.”

You let out a bitter laugh, more exhale than sound.

“I thought maybe if he hated me, it would make sense. This whole twisted mess. But this... silence? It’s worse.”

Samantha didn’t speak right away. She just stared at you, eyes softening as the pieces finally fit.

“You wanted to carry the guilt,” she said. “But he won’t let you.”

You nodded, eyes glassy. “And I don’t know who I am without it.”

****

It was almost midnight.

You didn’t go straight home. Instead, you found yourself at the beach, sitting barefoot in the cool sand, sipping the last of the wine you'd brought. The wind curled around you, biting at your skin, but the alcohol was a slow, blooming warmth in your cheeks.

You stared into the darkness, listening to the rhythmic slap of waves against the shore. The world felt vast and indifferent and somehow, that comforted you.

You tilted the wine bottle back, but nothing came out. You squinted at it, gave it a shake, even flipped it upside down.

“Oh, shit,” you muttered with a groan.

You tried to stand, but your legs wobbled beneath you. The wine had definitely caught up. You giggled as you plopped back down, giving up on grace and sobriety altogether.

“Sometimes,” you slurred softly, “I hate you, Catherine. For leaving us like that.”

You picked at the sand beside you.

“We could’ve been in Greece right now... or Italy. Cabo. Ibiza. I don’t know. Anywhere but here. You didn’t have to get married. I don’t even know why you wanted to. And then you get cold feet and—”

You paused.

“—and die on us.”

A chuckle slipped out, humorless and cracked. Probably the wine.

You leaned back, arms stretched wide, dress forgotten, letting the sand cling to silk and skin. The stars above didn’t blink. The sky didn’t judge.

“I’m just gonna sleep here tonight,” you murmured. “My husband doesn’t even talk to me. Doesn’t even see me. Marriage sucks.”

You exhaled, a long breath you didn’t know you’d been holding.

“I’m sorry, Cath,” you whispered. “But I think I’m going to divorce him.”

The words felt final, and strangely light.

“He’s a good man... I think? He deserves someone better. Not the crazy, twisted version of me.”

You closed your eyes.

And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel numb. You felt tired. Human. Honest.

"Happy Anniversary, I guess"

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jazziwritesthings · 11 days ago

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bf!minho dump.

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jazziwritesthings · 17 days ago

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Blurred Lines - Chapter 36

Date: 06/08/25

PROLOUGE|Chp 1|Chp 2|Chp 3|Chp 4|Chp 5|Chp 6|Chp 7| Chp 8|Chp 9|Chp 10|Chp 12|Chp 13|Chp 14|Chp 15|Chp 16|Chp 17|Chp 18|Chp 19|Chp 20|Chp 21|Chp 22|Chp 23||Chp 25|Chp 26|Chp 27|Chp28|Chp31|Chp32|Chp34

AN* this man is so fucking sexy yall please Park Jinyoung one chance 😫😫😫😫😫😫😫😫😫😫😫😫😫😫😫😫😫😫

Jinyoung woke with a dry mouth and a dull ache behind his eyes, the early light filtering through his curtains like needles. His head throbbed with every beat of his pulse, a slow and painful metronome marking the regret he already felt before even sitting up.

He groaned, pressing the heel of his palm into his eye socket. His memory was patchy at first—just a blur of amber liquor, his voice louder than usual, and his hand gripping his phone a little too tightly.

Then it all came back. The voicemail.

“Shit.”

He rolled onto his back, eyes wide now, staring up at the ceiling like it had answers. He’d called her. He left a message. Not just any message—a drunk, desperate, bleeding-heart message. And she hadn’t answered.

He cringed for what felt like forever, mentally preparing himself for what he might find when he sees his phone... but curiosity killed the cat.

Fumbling for his phone on the nightstand, he winced at the brightness as it lit up. No missed calls. No texts.

He clenched his jaw and let the phone fall to his chest, exhaling sharply as he imagined her hearing his voice and recoiling. Ignoring it. Laughing at it. Maybe even playing it for someone else.

His mind spiraled as he imagined every worst-case scenario.

Did she delete it right away? Did she listen to it more than once? Was she disgusted? Pitying him?

With a groan, he dragged a hand through his hair, already planning to crawl into the deepest, darkest corner of his apartment and stay there indefinitely. Maybe forever.

By the time he made it to set that morning, 8:00 a.m., the regret had fermented into something sharper. He moved on autopilot through hair and makeup, sunglasses still on indoors, nodding at the stylist’s questions with vague hums. His phone stayed clenched in his hand the whole time.

9:30 a.m. – First scene of the day. He powered through lines, fake-smiled through rehearsals, nodded at the director’s notes without really hearing them. Every time the cameras cut, he checked his phone.

It didn’t vibrate.

Didn’t light up.

Didn’t do anything at all.

10:12 a.m. – Between takes, he scrolled through old texts—half of them unsent. The kind you write at 2 a.m., half-delirious, heart wide open, but never send. They stared back at him like ghosts. He hovered his thumb over one. Deleted it instead.

11:47 a.m. – They wrapped early. Too early. Not enough work to distract him.

The ride to the PR firm was silent. No music. No notifications.

12:35 p.m. – He walked into the conference room for a client strategy review. Phone face-down beside his notes. He didn’t touch it through the first half.

1:22 p.m. – After lunch, while everyone else chatted over cold coffee and leftover fruit trays, Jinyoung stepped into the hallway. Pulled out his phone.

Still nothing.

No missed calls. No new texts. No response to the voicemail. No unread messages.

The silence was louder than anything else that day.

By the time it was 4, Jinyoung stood by the espresso machine in the break room, thumb absentmindedly pressing the buttons like muscle memory, but his mind somewhere else entirely. The chant he mentally repeated of “she hasn’t heard it yet” seemed no longer valid. Unfortunately, by now, she had most certainly heard it. She just wished she didn’t.

The low hiss of steamed milk filled the silence. He swung the fridge door open, staring blankly at a half-empty bottle of oat milk like it held some kind of answer. Suddenly, a muffled chatter of two junior employees who’d just walked into the kitchen disrupted his peace, but didn’t seem to notice him.

“…they said she still hasn’t returned the company’s calls. Like, nothing. Not even Sihoon could get her to come in.”

Why could he never escape her? Was he that invisible to everybody that they freely spoke about her like this?

Jinyoung pressed his lips together. Was it true even Sihoon hasn't been sucessful?

“Seriously? I thought she’d at least want to get it over with before they sue or something. Why would she leak the postcard?”

Jinyoung’s jaw tensed before the words even fully landed. He didn’t turn. Just stilled.

“She’s probably dragging it out for attention.”

That was enough.

He slammed the fridge door and shoot them a look sharp enough to cut straight through the air between them. It wasn’t loud, wasn’t angry—just loaded. One of the girls froze, lips parted mid-whisper. The other nudged her and mumbled something resembling an embarrassed apology before they scurried out.

He let out a slow breath, alone again. The espresso machine beeped behind him, long forgotten.

Y/N still hadn’t called all day. Still hadn’t texted.

Now he had to worry, did she not call him back because she still was unreachable? Was she okay?

Jinyoung stared at the wall blankly, his mind turning for the worst.

He could keep waiting, keep pretending this was just about business. He could let Sihoon handle it although he didn’t even trust her. Keep letting others do his bidding. Let strangers talk about her like she was some PR casualty, like her silence means guilt.

Or he could go over there himself, and ask.

Confront her. But was the answer more for him, or her?

He sighed, knowing the truth. Even now, he was being selfish.

He wanted to know why she didn’t answer, and why she didn’t call.

Should he go?

Y/N hadn’t planned on being out long. She just needed a few things—ramen, something sweet, maybe the feeling of normalcy that came with walking to her favorite convenience store. Sihoon had left a note by the kettle that morning in her usual mug, scrawled on the back of an envelope: You need to get out of the house. Even if just for yogurt. You’re going to develop a fear of the outside at this rate. Disguise up and go.

She’d rolled her eyes at first, but now—with her hood up, mask on, and earbuds in with no music playing—she was silently thankful for the nudge.

The air was cool and still, and for the first few minutes, it almost felt like the world was quiet again. She walked slowly, unbothered, letting herself feel the rhythm of morning for the first time in days. The store was only a few blocks away—a short distance that felt manageable after the haze of silence she’d wrapped herself in.

But the quiet didn’t last long.

With every step, her thoughts wandered, unspooling into old memories and ugly questions. Her fingers clenched tighter in the sleeves of her sweatshirt.

She had seen the photos last night. Jinyoung and his costar at some industry party—him looking clean and sharp and effortless in that shirt she used to love. His costar in an effortless Dior sweater. The two of them, heads close, eyes crinkled in laughter.

They looked good together. Too good.

How could she be so easily replaced?

He was the one who said he loved her. He was the one who made her believe in something real again.

And yet, he was the one who stood in front of her with that postcard he had “poured” himself into—and ripped it in half like it meant nothing.

So did he ever feel anything at all?

On her way to the convenience store, Y/N passed the shuttered doors of her old café—its windows dark, a faded "For Lease" sign taped crookedly to the glass—and felt a pang in her chest, realizing this was where it had all begun, long before she knew what she was stepping into.

How could someone say things like that— I chose you for this job. Not my PR team. Not my label. Me.

The truth is, I knew it then as I know it now. I love you Y/N.

—then walk away like it was all scripted?

She hadn't even had the time to process that he had supposedly know her and liked her before she did.

He hadn’t called. Not even once. Not after that night. Not after the fight. Not after the leak.

Did he even care what they were saying about her in the media?

Did he ever care at all?

No, because he believed them.

And so maybe he wasn’t any different after all.

Inside the store, she moved on instinct. Grabbed the ramen. The candy. The yogurt. Reached for the iced coffee she always picked when she was sad or tired or both, the things she often used to pick out with Jinyoung in this same convenience store.

She rushed to the counter, bought the items, and stepped back outside. The sun was setting over Seoul.

She blinked and adjusted her mask—just in time to catch two men across the street. One of them already had a camera lifted.

The light hit her face differently now. Sharper. She blinked, adjusting, and noticed two men standing across the street—one with a camera already lifted to his eye.

Her heart stuttered. She turned sharply and started walking, fast. Maybe they didn’t see her. Maybe it wasn’t her. Maybe—

The shutter clicked. Once. Then again.

Panic started to rise in her chest. Her steps grew frantic. It was only a five-minute walk back to her apartment, but suddenly the distance felt endless. Would they follow her all the way? What would people make of her life? Was this going to be what the rest of her life looked like?

She was so focused on getting away that she didn’t notice the figure turning the corner until she collided into him.

She gasped as the impact knocked her slightly off balance, the plastic bag swinging between them.

“Woah—” the man steadied her gently, his hands catching her arms before she could stumble.

“Y/N?”

She looked up—and blinked in surprise.

“Do Hwan?”

Woo Do Hwan’s eyes searched her face, brows furrowing as he took in the panic in her eyes, the tense grip she had on the bag.

“Are you okay?” he asked concerned, already glancing past her shoulder. He saw them—the men with cameras—and his expression changed instantly.

Without waiting for an answer, he nodded toward the building behind him. “Come here.”

She didn’t argue. He pushed open the door to what looked like a private gym and ushered her in, letting it fall shut behind them with a solid click. The world outside muffled instantly.

She leaned against the wall, catching her breath, slightly dazed while Do Hwan watched her closely.

“It’s okay, I’m right here.” he nudged her arms, trying to get her attention.

If only this was Jinyoung comforting her right now.

“I didn’t think they would recognize me,” she muttered, pulling her mask down and tugging the hood off her head. “I mean this disguise worked on me.” she muttered the last comment more towards herself.

“You weren’t followed from home were you?”

She shook her head. “No. At least—I don’t think so. I was just trying to get snacks.”

“Guess they were waiting,” he said, quieter this time. “You alright?”

“I am now,” she breathed, offering him a small, grateful smile. “Thanks for—rescuing me, I guess.”

He gave a soft laugh. She looked around, realizing where they were. A quiet space, rubber flooring, dumbbells stacked in the corner. A faint smell of eucalyptus and sweat lingered in the air.

“You go here?” she asked, looking back to Hwan who she realized just now was in gym attire.

If she wasn’t entirely heartbroken over someone else she’d have to admit how good he looked, and yet she couldn’t even really care.

“I own this gym actually.” he smirked.

She blinked for a few moments, looking around.

“Wait—this is yours?” she asked curiously.

He nodded. “Yeah. Opened it with a friend last year. We’re still getting it fully up and running, but it’s something.”

She gave a low whistle. “I didn’t realize you’re so close to my apartment.”

He grinned. “Then you’ve probably walked past it a dozen times without realizing.”

“Honestly I wouldn’t have noticed,” she said, hugging the bag of snacks tighter to her chest. “I’ve been kind of out of it these days.” she admitted.

“I understand,” he said, his voice kind.

A silence lingered around a topic neither one of them really wanted to address.

“Hey… have you ever tried boxing?” he asked.

Jinyoung stepped into the apartment, the loneliness that consumed the apartment was waiting for him in the apartment like a pet. He dropped his keys into the bowl by the entryway and stood there for a second too long, motionless, before heading toward the bathroom.

He decided, he was going to see her.

And if he was going to see her, if he was going to do this, he needed it all off.

The water was scalding, almost punishing, as it streamed down his back. He stood under it, hands braced against the tile, letting the heat loosen the knots in his neck and shoulders. The steam curled around him like memory. Like her.

The water was nearly scalding—just the way he liked it when he needed to feel something. Jinyoung stood under the stream, unmoving, eyes shut, as the spray beat down over his neck and shoulders, trailing down the curve of his spine like a weight slowly peeling off his skin.

He hadn’t spoken to her. Not since that night. And she hadn’t called. Not once. Not after the voicemail. Not even to tell him to fuck off.

He tilted his head back, letting the water hit his face. It filled his ears, muffled everything around him, and for a second, it was easier to pretend this was just about the contract.

Just about wrapping things up. Just about closure.

But deep down, he knew the truth.

He pressed a hand flat to the tile wall, exhaling against the rising steam.

Was it really just about getting her to come in and sign the damn thing?

No. It was because if he went there—if he stood in front of her—then she’d have to look him in the eye. She’d have to see him. And maybe he’d see her, too. Really see her. Enough to finally know what the hell had happened.

He knew it was stupid. She’d heard his voicemail and hadn’t responded. What more did he need?

But still…

If he just got up, right now, and went over there—they’d have to talk.

He clenched his jaw. He didn’t know if he was doing this because he should… or because he wanted to.

At that thought, he turned the water off and toweled off in silence. When he moved in front of the mirror, wiping away the fog, he paused. His gaze dropped to his ribs.

His eyes lowered in his reflection to the space where the temporary tattoo used to be—where she had carefully pressed it on with laughter and fingertips, right after icing her ankle—was empty now. Just skin. No faint outline. No remnants of the childish design.

It was gone.

As if it had never been there to begin with.

Just like their entire relationship.

It was supposed to be temporary after all. Not permanent.

He sighed. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just… tired.

It felt like his entire life had started to orbit around her—whether she was in it or not. Even now, after everything that had happened, it still didn’t feel like the end. Or maybe Jinyoung just couldn’t accept that it was.

They’d broken up more than once, in more ways than one. Words left unsaid, silences stretched too long, bruises left not on skin but somewhere deeper. And still, it didn’t feel final. It didn’t feel done.

Everyone around him had tried to shake him out of it. Told him he was better off. That she’d betrayed him—leaked something deeply personal just to wound him. That she hadn’t even had the decency to respond to his voice message. And yet... none of it was enough.

Not to stop him from thinking about her. Not to stop whatever part of him kept hoping this wasn’t how their story ended.

Was he addicted to the pain? Were they just toxic? Shouldn’t this whole situation be humiliating enough to forget her entirely?

And yet—here he was. Showering, dressing, steadying himself to go see her. "Check in on her"

Was he really that desperate?

Or was it something else?

Was it instinct?

Intuition? Was it love? Was it denial?

Or was it something he didn’t have the words for yet—something in him still tethered to her, even if everything around him said to cut the cord.

He didn’t know.

Pulling on a gray sweatshirt, he stepped out of the bathroom, raking damp fingers through his hair. The apartment still smelled faintly like her perfume—or maybe that was just in his head.

Anxiously and absentmindedly, he opened his phone and then opened Instagram— out of habit more than intention. His thumb hovered for a second, then flicked down to refresh the feed.

And that was his mistake.

Because the first post was a tabloid page.

The picture hit him like a punch.

Y/N. Hood up, mask down, clutching a convenience store bag. Woo Do Hwan beside her, hand on her back as they walked into a building together.

The headline was already halfway sensationalized.

And just like that, every fragile excuse he’d been leaning on snapped in half.

Jinyoung stared at the screen. Not moving. Not blinking.

So this was why she hadn’t responded. So this was what she could make time for.

Jinyoung stared at the image, disbelief creeping across his features. He blinked, hoping it would disappear or change into something else. It didn’t.

He laughed bitterly out loud to himself although nothing was funny.

Here he was, worried something happened to her, that she's boarded up in her apartment unreachable from anyone, and in reality she's off with an A list actor.

He rubbed his hand over his face trying to collect himself. The words passed through his teeth in a bitter breath, dry and sharp. His jaw tightened as something cold and ugly twisted in his chest. Anger. Jealousy. The raw sting of humiliation.

He lowered himself onto his bed, there was no point in going to her apartment, she clearly had company.

His breathing came faster, mind racing with every terrible interpretation that made him forget his hangover. Not only had she started this whole drama and left him to deal with it, she was off with somebody else completely carefree.

Somebody she had met through him.

She hadn’t just not seen his call.

She had chosen not to ignore him.

And she hadn’t been alone.

He could feel the heat rising in his chest again, pulsing beneath his skin, fueling something that felt suspiciously like rage.

His jaw clenched so tight it ached. He couldn’t breathe for a second. The kind of anger that didn’t flare—it burned. Quiet and sick and deep.

How many times did reality have to slap him in the face for him to get it?

She’s just not that into you.

That’s what it felt like the universe was screaming at him every damn time he tried to chase her. Every time he told himself to be brave. To be a bigger person. To be a man and go to her.

Every time he was close enough to doing it—it ended like this.

Was he insane? Pathetic?

Or just not enough?

He stood up suddenly, throwing his phone onto the bed, then snatched it again just as fast—fingers trembling—and began typing.

Fine. If that’s how she wanted to play it.

He opened their text thread again—still blank, still untouched since Jeju. His thumbs moved quickly, typing before he could talk himself out of it.

“So you’re too busy to sign a termination of contract but not to get into your next relationship? Set up a time to come in the office and sign the termination so we can get this over with.”

He hit send.

Or tried to.

But even when he did so the receipt of delivery didn’t appear under the message as it normally should. Message not delivered.

He blinked, thinking maybe it was just taking a minute.

Still nothing.

A sick, hollow laugh escaped him as the realization sank in.

She had blocked him.

Blocked his number. After everything. Just like that.

He stared at the screen, heart pounding, mouth agape.

Clearly she had blocked him sometime after his voicemail because he remembered her phone ringing last night when he left her that message.

So she heard it and blocked him?

Without thinking his jaw tightened as he hit her contact and then scrolled to the bottom, hitting the “Block” without hesitation.

Then—he threw his phone away from him, somewhere on the other side of the room.

He didn’t even care if it cracked. There was not much use out of it anyways.

His hands were shaking as he laid there, chest rising and falling unevenly, like he couldn’t catch his breath.

He wasn’t sure if it was fury, heartbreak, or both, but it drowned out everything else.

For the next few days since her run in with the paparazzi, she’d been back to Woo Doo’s gym almost every morning, just to give her something to do than sit around all day contemplating what to do next with her life.

And every morning, more headlines came.

Y/N and Woo Do Hwan: Dating or Rebounding? Inside Her Private Gym Sessions: Is She Getting Stronger or Just Guarded? Silence from Jinyoung as Romance Rumors Swirl Around Ex.

After a few days she didn’t even click on them anymore.

And she’d stopped checking his profile. Stopped waiting for him to show up and say something—anything—that might undo what had already been done. Because he hadn’t. And he wouldn’t.

At least, not when it mattered.

So she hit harder. Boxed longer. Ignored the ache in her chest the same way she ignored the rumors. She was trying. Desperately. To stop feeling useless.

One afternoon, after her training and a lukewarm shower in her apartment, Sihoon came by with a draft of the early termination contract at her door. She could avoid it no longer.

“You look like you punched your way through three breakups,” Sihoon said lightly, eyes trailing over Y/N’s damp hair as she stood in the doorway.

“Only one,” Y/N muttered unamused.

Sihoon took a long look at Y/N before speaking again, more serious this time. “I need you to come into the office tomorrow.”

Y/N didn’t respond right away. She was busy thinking. Then finally, “For what?”

“To sign the real version of this.” she said, handing over the paper.

Y/N blinked slowly.

Sihoon sighed. “Look—I’m not saying this to rush you. But it’s time, Y/N. It’s been almost a month since Jeju. You don’t have to keep standing in this in-between space. You can end it. Fully. And start again. However you want.”

For a while, Y/N didn’t say anything, she simply stood there, staring down at the paper in her hands.

“Just… try… to be there. The sooner you get this over with the better.” she assured.

Y/N looked up at Sihoon.

“... Is he going to be there?” she questioned timidly.

Sihoon pressed her lips together, indicating the answer.

Eventually, Sihoon left the Y/N door, and when she did, Y/N went to bed crying again.

------------------------------

The room was cold—boardroom lighting too sterile, air conditioning humming faintly. Y/N sat at one end of the long table, hands folded tightly in her lap. Across from her, Jinyoung sat still, eyes fixed on the table, like she wasn’t even there.

He hadn’t looked at her once since she sat down.

Y/N sat at the boardroom table, her fingers folded neatly in her lap, but tension coiled through her spine like wire. The fluorescent lights above buzzed faintly, and the whole room smelled like floor polish and recycled air. She remembered it too well.

Because she had sat here before.

The same table. The same contract. The same man across from her.

Jinyoung sat where he always had—across from her, quiet, unreadable. He didn’t look at her. Not once. Not when she walked in, not when she sat down. Not even now. And that, strangely, was what made it feel so cruelly familiar.

He hadn’t looked at her the first time, either.

That first day, when they sat at this very table and signed their names to a fantasy—he’d kept his eyes on the papers, letting their managers do the talking. He was polite. Distant. Almost indifferent.

She had told herself then that it was because they didn’t know each other yet. That the awkward tension between them would eventually soften, warm, bloom into something that at least felt real. And eventually, it had.

Or so she thought.

Now, 6 months later, she thought she would’ve made it through the other end of this, but instead, their 6 months had ended on different terms… literally.

Here she sat across from the same man with the same pit in her stomach, and the air between them was just as cold—if not colder. Only this time, they weren’t strangers. Not technically. This time, she knew what his laugh sounded like in the morning. Knew the face he made when he was trying not to smile. Knew how he kissed.

And somehow… That made the silence worse.

He still wouldn’t look at her. And it broke her in a way that words couldn’t.

She had been dreading this moment since the second Sihoon told her she needed to come in—this room, this table, this scene. But what she hadn’t been prepared for was how much it would feel like the beginning again. Like all of it had been nothing. Like she’d been erased.

She pressed her lips together, holding the ache down where it belonged.

Because the worst part wasn’t just that he didn’t look at her. It was that she still wanted him to.

How hurt was he that he couldn’t even look at her? How could he believe that she did this to him?

Looking at him, she didn’t see her Jinyoung anymore.

Sihoon sat beside her, tablet open, trying to ease the tension with forced professionalism. A PR manager and two legal reps flanked Jinyoung, one of them speaking in practiced neutrality.

The silence in the boardroom was only broken by the shuffling of paper and the occasional low murmur of the PR reps. Y/N sat stiffly, trying to breathe normally, trying not to glance across the table where Jinyoung sat—eerily still, eyes fixed ahead, as if he were trying to separate himself from the room entirely.

A heavy stack of stapled pages sat in front of her, crisp and cold beneath her fingers. The termination agreement.

“Let’s walk through it section by section,” one of the PR reps began, her voice clipped and professional, like this was just another meeting.

Y/N nodded faintly, fingers flipping through the document without absorbing any of it.

Page one: standard headers. Legal citations. Clauses about confidentiality. Paragraphs so sterile they barely made a dent in her foggy head.

By page three, her eyes were glazing over.

“…as stated in subsection 2A, any media assets produced during the relationship period will remain the joint property of both parties’ management companies…”

She kept nodding, automatically, even though her chest was tightening. Was this what their entire relationship had boiled down to? A list of shared digital content and legal jargon?

Page four: termination of promotional obligations. Page five: non-disparagement clauses.

And then— Page six.

She was halfway through scanning the next paragraph when the words caught her eye like a slap.

“…signing this agreement constitutes acknowledgment that the relationship was a constructed publicity arrangement and does not represent a real or ongoing romantic partnership.”

She blinked.

Then read it again.

Y/N’s hand froze on the paper. “Wait.”

The rep paused mid-sentence.

Y/N’s voice was quieter now, but sharper. “You want me to sign something saying none of it was real?”

The room held its breath.

Across from her, Jinyoung remained motionless. His jaw flexed, but his eyes didn’t move. Didn’t twitch. Didn’t acknowledge her.

She turned, slowly, to the PR rep. “That wasn’t in the original draft. I would’ve remembered that.”

“It’s a standard clarification clause,” the woman replied smoothly, like she’d said it a thousand times before. “Given the leak, it’s important there’s no ambiguity about the nature of the relationship. For press. For sponsors. For future clients.”

Y/N’s pulse roared in her ears. “It wasn’t ambiguous to me.”

The second rep spoke now, more clipped. “The public understanding will be that the relationship was fabricated for marketing purposes, just like any other type of influence. This clause ensures everyone involved is protected legally—”

Fabricated?

Like she hadn’t spent nights falling asleep next to him. Like he hadn’t told her he picked her. That he’d known her. That he liked her.

Was that fabricated? Is this what Jinyoung was trying to say?

The pressure in her chest mounted like a rising tide.

“I’m not signing this,” she said, sliding the paper away from her. “Not with that clause in it. I won’t pretend none of it was real. That I wasn’t real.”

Finally, his gaze shifted to her.

He looked at her. Just for a second.

She met his eye contact, almost challenging him to hold it.

And with that, Jinyoung’s chair scraped back.

Her eyes darted to him as he rose—not slowly, not hesitantly. It was quiet, but decisive. He straightened his jacket like armor, movements cold and practiced, like he had somewhere better to be. Like she wasn’t sitting across from him at all.

And then he turned.

Didn’t speak.

Didn’t glance at her.

Just walked toward the door with the kind of calm that made her blood boil, and swung it open to leave.

Without thinking for some reason, Y/N was already pushing back her own chair.

“And I want a new apartment,” she said, voice sharp now, throwing it into the air like a stone.

Her eyes darted to Jinyoung who was walking down the hallway as she could see through the glass.

She kept going. “That was part of the original agreement—when saesangs got my address, your company promised to relocate me. Without it, I'm not signing.” she uttered before leaving the room without waiting for anyone's response.

All she could think about was catching up to Jinyoung.

Her pulse picked up as she followed him down the hall, heels quiet but steady against the tile. She didn’t know what she’d say when she caught up to him—only that she had to.

Because if she let him walk away now, she wasn’t sure she’d ever forgive herself.

She turned the corner just in time to see the elevator doors beginning to slide shut.

Without thinking, Y/N lunged forward and wedged her hand between them, forcing them back open with a sharp ding. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead as the doors slowly peeled apart to reveal Jinyoung inside—alone, rigid, jaw tight.

His eyes met hers for a split second before he looked away with a short, bitter exhale.

“You have got to be kidding me,” he muttered under his breath, teeth clenched as he took a step back to make space, but not out of politeness—just to endure.

Y/N stepped inside anyway, pressing the button to close the doors behind her.

“Go ahead,” Y/N said, sarcasm masking the tremor in her chest. “Say what you’ve been dying to say since we sat down in there, Jinyoung.”

He scoffed—dry and humorless. Almost a laugh, if any of this was remotely funny. Still, he didn’t look at her. Just stared up at the glowing elevator numbers like they were the only steady thing left in his life.

She crossed her arms. “Are you just going to sulk like a child, or are you actually going to say what’s on your mind?”

His jaw flexed. “Don’t start.”

“No,” she stepped in front of him, blocking his view. “Spit it out already.”

His eyes finally met hers—sharp, exhausted, and brimming with something more dangerous than anger.

“You’re really refusing to sign because of that clause?” His voice cracked through the silence. “Seriously?”

Her expression twisted. “Did you put that in?”

“Does it matter?” he snapped. “We’re done, Y/N.”

Her throat closed. “So that’s it? You want me to sign something saying it was all fake? That I was fake?”

“Isn’t that the truth?” he bit out.

She blinked at him, stunned. “You tell me. Because if that’s really how you feel, I’ll sign it right now.”

Jinyoung stepped closer, eyes narrowing. “That’s what you believed that night, wasn’t it? That I set you up?”

“You think I didn’t have a right to?” she shot back. “You didn’t defend me. Everyone thought I leaked that damn letter—and you didn’t say a word.”

He laughed bitterly. “News flash, Y/N: there weren’t any cameras in there or in here, so you can stop pretending now.”

“Pretending what?”

“That you give a fuck. About any of this. About me.”

She flinched.

He looked away, shaking his head. “Just… forget it.”

“No.” Her voice was quieter now, trembling. “Go on. Say everything you’ve been holding back. I won’t be in your life much longer anyway.”

He drew in a slow breath, like it physically hurt to keep it in. “Fine,” he said, voice low. “Why would you do this to me?”

She frowned. “Do what?”

“Everything.”

“Exactly,” she hissed. “Why would I? Do you even realize the damage this did to me? Or do you only think about yourself?”

His head snapped toward her. “I only think about myself? That’s rich—coming from you.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He hesitated, then muttered, “Nevermind.”

“No, say it. Why would I leak the contract? What would I even get out of that?”

“You tell me.” His voice was cold now. “Maybe you just wanted to hurt me.”

Her chest rose sharply. “Hurt you?”

“And you didn’t stop there, could you?” he added bitterly. “Until now you just had my heart in your hands just for you to trample all over it. And now you want to draw this out even longer by refusing to sign? How much do you hate me?” he barked.

“What are you even talking about?” she asked, breathless.

“Ask Do Hwan,” he said, eyes on the elevator doors now, dead ahead.

“Oh, stop pretending you give a damn.”

He snapped his head back to her. “Do you know how much I—” He stopped himself before he could finish, almost choking on the words.

“You what, Jinyoung?” she asked, taunting, almost daring him.

He pressed his lips together in a tight line. “Forget it.”

“Say it before you rip it up into shreds again.” she egged on.

“Shut up,” he muttered.

“Make me.”

The moment the words left her mouth, she found her back against the elevator wall. Jinyoung’s hands slammed against the metal on either side of her, caging her in. His breath came uneven.

“You wanted a reaction—that’s why you leaked the contract. Now you got one. Happy?” he said, voice sharp and trembling. “You want me to fight you so you can keep pretending I still care.”

Her breath caught in her throat.

“But you’re wrong,” he added, voice lowering. “There’s nothing left. Not after what you did.”

She stared up at him, her lips parted, trying to form words—but none came.

Jinyoung exhaled hard, pulling back slightly but still close. “Once this elevator hits the ground floor, I’m going to forget you ever existed.”

It landed like a blade.

Her voice was barely a whisper. “Is it really that easy for you?”

He looked at her—really looked—and something cracked in his expression.

“Do you remember that night I beat you at pool?” he asked suddenly.

… what?

She blinked confused. “What?”

“And how I won a wish—no questions asked?”

She nodded slowly, confused.

“I’m using it now,” he said, his voice softer, rougher.

He glanced down at her lips, then back to her eyes. “For the last twenty seconds I’ll ever be this close to you, grant me this one wish. Don’t speak. Don’t move. Don’t touch me. Just let me do what I want.”

He hesitated—just long enough to make sure she wouldn’t stop him.

Then he kissed her.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t patient. It was months of silence and regret crashing down all at once. His hands cupped her face like he was punishing himself for wanting to touch her — like the very act of holding her burned him, yet soothed a deeper ache he couldn’t face. His lips slammed against hers — hungry, desperate, raw — as if trying to prove something to himself, or maybe trying to forget the weight of everything else. Y/N didn’t move, didn’t dare breathe, didn’t reach for him even though every inch of her was screaming to close the distance. Not because she didn’t want to, but because she knew if she touched him, he might pull away. The cold metal wall pressed behind her, but Jinyoung’s kiss was fire — fierce, unrelenting — and her heart pounded so hard she thought it might shatter through her ribs. As much as he tried to make it seem like lust - the kiss tasted of longing, of grief. When he finally pulled back, just enough, she saw it — the raw ache he tried to bury in uncaring, the truth his lips refused to say verbally.

He stayed close, not stepping away.

“I’ll get you a revised version of the contract by the end of the week,” he murmured against her lips.

She swallowed, stunned, barely registering the words.

His fingers brushed her jaw — tender, almost painfully so — a softness that clashed with the harshness in his voice moments later.

“When this is over,” he whispered, voice thick and breaking, “I hope I never see you again.” He let go of her jaw without meeting her eyes, like the words hurt him more than they hurt her.

The elevator dinged.

The doors slid open.

And Jinyoung walked away, leaving Y/N frozen against the wall, with the ghost of his lips still burning on hers.

UGHHHHHHHHHH WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS!????

Guys, a part of me wanted so bad to turn that elevator scene into something else but let me ask you this...um not to like spoil anything, idk if authors do this, but what are our thoughts on s3x before complete reconciliation ... is it too early? Would you rather it be when they actually reconcile? Or can it be a bit of both? I genuinley need help deciding I don't know if that ruins their progression or not , but we've been staring for almost 40 chapters and because this man is a scorpio venus I know hes starving too cause they're freaked tf out

Going to the JB concert next week AHHHHHHH, that means in a way ill be breathing the same air Jinyoung breathed AJSNASASNJA.

Taglist

@jazziwritesthings @fullmindlady @hblackberry @thatsowayv @heyitz00 @babyzellodeacon @sugarysweetzee @lilylikesthat @lilymaleshka @blr1004 @vsrenne @svnpjy @kaitieskidmore97 @optimisticqueenperson @maganda23621 @evemds @suvakrpa @httphera @aujaitori @lostinfakescenarios @pinkpunkdynamite @bandart101 @meggomeeeggo @meshyxingmi @neotzworld @thetjtales @melooniee @jamlou512 @septembr-e @peachy-9498 @heathclifftragedy @auroraslibrary @alittlelostalittlefound @hiddenspark7 @angel-02 @junagh @walkinthe-sun-blog-1 @dionisiacame @of-swords-and-words @h3nderyss @shownunu @emiliemgk @madywoopz @caramelcheezepopcorn @redfabean-blog @happysprings @cannedlychees @tubqueen @luvhoppe94 @xellys @slaygyu17 @thequeenofthehouse2 @mademoiselle-cher @sugakookie-tae @zagreusdaughter @42pineapples @rabelobk @itsmollaylay @sturnsf1-xx @thereisheresomewhere @czupakabraa @magishere06 @allboutthedongs @sassylittlesamoan @diaryblogstuff @cac23

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jazziwritesthings · 18 days ago

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im so sick of queer people being biphobic like are you stupid

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jazziwritesthings · 18 days ago

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Yall this year has been so amazing for concerts so far. Like I saw

Day6 -4/19/25

MICO-5/08/25

We The Kings- 6/07/25

Simple Plan- 6/07/25

Avril Lavigne- 6/07/25

I see Skz on 6/23/25

And im thinking about going to AJR in August. And if Mothica comes out with dates im definitely going.

#day6 #skz #concert #concerts #we the kings #simple plan #avril lavigne #hershey #hershey stadium #amazing time #cant wait

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jazziwritesthings · 23 days ago

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˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.　　　. 　　˚　✭　　　*　　　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　　✭　.　　. 　 ˚　.

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jazziwritesthings · 23 days ago

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Mark Tuan High As You Challenge with GOT7

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jazziwritesthings · 23 days ago

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250528 | dominATE San Francisco for oli @mybodyfails 🩷

bonus:

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jazziwritesthings · 25 days ago

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Blurred Lines - Chapter 35

Date: 06/01/25

Summary: After returning from his military hiatus, Jinyoung’s agency pressures him into a fake relationship to combat rumors and restart his career. Y/N, a regular waitress, is hired as the other half of the arrangement. They’re supposed to keep things professional, but real feelings start to blur the lines as their contract nears its end. Pairing: Jinyoung (Got7) x Fem!Reader Tags: #angst#tension #jinyoungangst #jinyoungxreader Word count: 5,800

AN* IF YOU GOT TAGGED IN THIS FOR THE FIRST TIME - I SAW U IN MY LIKES AND THOUGHT YOU MIGHT LIKE MY STORY, BE SURE TO READ FROM BEGINNING AS TO NOT SPOIL ANYTHING!

Jinyoung

The first week after she left was a blur.

Jinyoung didn’t leave his apartment. Didn’t open the blinds. Didn’t turn on the TV. The once-immaculate space had slowly come undone—coffee cups stacked in the sink, takeout containers untouched, his phone tossed somewhere under the couch where he couldn’t see it light up anymore.

For seven days, he did nothing but sit in silence.

Replay it. Rewind it. Regret it.

He would lie in bed for hours, staring at the ceiling, thinking about how Y/N’s voice cracked when she begged him not to leave. How she’d held onto him at the door even though she was the one who told him to go.

It didn’t make sense.

None of it did.

And every time he thought about the way her voice broke when she said “please, don’t leave me,” it felt like his chest was being hollowed out again.

He kept asking himself the same question: Did I make the right choice?

Every day since the scandal broke, one by one, the GOT7 members had shown up at Jinyoung’s apartment—Mark with his steady calm, BamBam trying to lighten the mood with jokes, Jackson pacing anxiously, Yugyeom bringing quiet support, Youngjae checking if he’d eaten, and Jinyoung himself barely responding. They all came with hope, but after each visit, they left the same way—frustrated and empty-handed, no closer to breaking through the wall he’d built around himself.

By the eighth day, someone else came knocking.

This time it was his manager. Persistent, pounding like the apartment might cave in if Jinyoung didn’t answer. When he finally opened the door, eyes sunken and shoulders low, he barely registered the look of concern on his manager’s face before being told to shower, dress, and get in the car.

The next few hours were a blur of fluorescent lights and glass-walled conference rooms.

The PR team, legal, marketing. All seated like this was a war strategy meeting.

“Look,” one of the executives said, fingers steepled, “you still have the rest of your press tour for the drama, and your film premiere’s locked in for next month.”

Jinyoung sat, arms folded, stone-faced.

“And the media frenzy around you and Y/N is getting worse,” someone else added. “You shouldn’t have unfollowed her. That move confirmed the breakup and, by extension, the contract’s legitimacy.”

The room went silent.

His jaw tightened.

He didn’t regret unfollowing her. Not then. It was the only thing he could control. But hearing how easily it unraveled the illusion they worked so hard to build made something in him twist with unease.

“What about the statement?” Jinyoung asked finally. “What are we telling people?”

The head of PR exhaled. “There are two ways this could go. Number one is in an ideal world, we’d get the two of you together, sign an early termination of contract, and square away a PR strategy in which both of you walk away happy.”

Jinyoung liked the sound of this suggestion.

“The second more realistic way is we proceed without Y/N in releasing a public announcement. We’ve been trying to reach Y/N every day, but she hasn’t responded to a single call or email. Not even her manager can reach her… If she continues to ignore us,” the legal rep said flatly, “we’ll have to assume she’s in breach of contract. And we’ll proceed with addressing this publicly without her, as well as take appropriate next steps.” the law team added.

Jinyoung titled his head and furrowed his eyebrows, mood instantly turning.

"You’re talking about legal action?” he scoffed.

“If it's necessary, yes.” they replied.

Jinyoung leaned back in his chair, his voice low and sharp. “Legal action?” he scoffed. “You can’t sue her for defamation.”

Silence fell across the conference room.

“She didn’t lie,” he continued. “That postcard—every word in it—I wrote it. It’s the truth. And if you push her, she could prove it. She has the bank statements. The contract itself. You really want to go down that road?”

One of the legal reps, Ms. Han, adjusted her glasses. “Who said we would go with defamation?”

“Then what would you be suing over?” Jinyoung asked bitterly.

She opened a folder and listed them, matter-of-factly:

“Breach of contract. If she was the one who leaked it, the contract included a non-disclosure clause—she violated that clause. That alone gives us grounds for a lawsuit. Breach of confidentiality. The nature of the relationship was considered proprietary information by the company. Sharing any private documentation or details without consent is a legal violation. Tortious interference. Her actions—whether intentional or not—interfered with ongoing brand deals and sponsorships tied to your image. If we can show financial loss because of her leak, we can pursue damages. Misappropriation of proprietary material - If she shared a copy of the contract itself, or screenshots of internal communications, that could qualify as using company property without permission. False light - not defamation per se, but if the leak cast you or the company in a misleading or damaging light—even if technically true—it can still be actionable, especially in South Korean media law. Intentional infliction of emotional distress - more abstract claim, but if we wanted to, we could argue that leaking a deeply personal message like that was done to humiliate or emotionally harm you.” she explained.

“...those are the options,” Ms.Han finished.

Jinyoung’s knuckles whitened under the table.

“You’re talking about ruining her life?” he asked.

“We’re talking about protecting yours,” his manager cut in. “The public is already speculating. We need to control the narrative.”

Jinyoung looked away, mind racing. Even now—after everything—he wasn’t sure it was her. All he could see in his mind was the way she cried in his apartment that night. Not like someone guilty. Not like someone proud of what they'd done.

The way her hands trembled. The crack in her voice when she begged him not to walk away.

Would someone guilty cry like that?

He didn’t know.

He wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

And for that very reason, he couldn’t allow this.

It was all just assumptions.

“The only problem with this is before you throw her under the bus you have to know who was driving it.”

“What are you saying?” someone asked, cautious.

“I’m saying,” he said, voice low, “every legal threat you just listed depends on one thing—that she leaked it. And none of you can tell me that for certain.”

The room froze, shocked he had even suggested such a thing. Was he still in denial?

He shook his head. “I’m sorry, but last time I checked I’m the only one here who has spent practically every day with her for the last 5 months, I’m sorry if a part of me doubts that she did this,” he sniped.

Then a member of the PR team slid a slim folder across the table toward him.

“Are you sure you knew her?” they said evenly.

Inside: screenshots of dms to dispatch from an Anonymous accounts. All vague. All circumstantial. Smoke, but no fire.

Jinyoung barely glanced at it before snapping the folder shut and pushing it back.

“You call this proof?” he asked with a scoff.

“It’s a strong lead,” the legal counsel replied. “And with her refusing to come in, we’re left with very few options.”

“No, it's a strong assumption.” Jinyoung shook his head slowly. “If you want to take legal action, you’re going to have to do better than this. Prove whatever anonymous account was her. Investigate it properly. Don’t just throw her under the bus because it’s easier than asking hard questions.”

“And who else could it be?” the PR lead challenged. “She was clearly upset. The relationship wasn’t what she expected. She might’ve misread what happened on the beach, or worse, she's been staged this exit from the beggining. That kind of leak doesn't just happen. Who else would’ve seen this post card Jinyoung? And she hasn’t responded to any of our calls since. Her silence is saying more than anything else. She had a motive.” the PR team said.

Jinyoung looked up.

His stare cut through the boardroom at this news.

“I hate you” He could remember her crying out to him.

Did she mean it ?

He didn’t want her to.

Was that enough motive for her to want to hurt him this badly?

He hated this. The politics. The posturing. The way they were already rewriting her into a problem to be solved rather than a person to be understood.

She was probably still hurting. That much, he knew.

And despite how angry, how confused, how betrayed he still felt—he couldn’t stomach the idea of them tearing into her based on a hunch.

Still, he said firmly, “Whether or not you think it’s her is not enough. Until I see proof, we’re not releasing any statement, and we’re not suing. Bring her in so we can settle this quietly.” Jinyoung stood up from the table.

“How do you expect us to do that with her evading us like she has?!” a member of his team called.

“Try harder,” he said plainly.

“Excuse me?” the legal representative scoffed.

“You said she’s been ignoring your calls,” Jinyoung said, voice low but cutting, “but have you even tried sending someone? In person?” His tone was edged with impatience.

The room stayed silent. The answer was clear.

“Send someone,” he ordered. “To her apartment. Face-to-face.”

He didn’t add the why - that part was left unsaid.

“Don’t threaten her. Don’t pressure her. And not just anyone. It has to be someone she trusts—otherwise she won’t come back.” His eyes flickered to Sihoon, standing quiet in the corner.

Despite the cold calculations in the room, Jinyoung knew the truth: Sihoon was the only person Y/N might actually open the door for.

“If you take legal action,” he warned, voice hardening, “it will be without me as your client. So choose your moves carefully.”

The lawyer’s lips curled in a sneer. “Jinyoung, it’s touching to see you defend someone who clearly backstabbed you—but leave the sentimental drama for your K-dramas. This is real life. If Y/N refuses to sign the termination, we’ll pursue legal action—with or without you.”

Jinyoung’s gaze sharpened at the back-handed advice.

“Let me be clear,” he said, clipped and razor-sharp, “if you sue her on false pretenses, I’ll leak the real contract myself. And then you’ll have to sue me, too.”

The lawyer scoffed again, dismissive.

“Why would you risk ruining your own reputation over this?”

Jinyoung’s eyes darkened. “I don’t have much left to lose.”

The room narrowed their eyes, sensing the edge in his words.

Without another word, Jinyoung rose from his seat and turned toward the door.

“Jinyoung.” his PR manager called, giving him pause.

With a sigh, they continued. “We won’t move forward with legal action against Y/N—but only if you stick to the schedule, keep promoting like you’re supposed to, and don’t throw us any more curveballs. In return, we’ll make sure she’s brought in and that this leak is properly investigated. That’s not a request. That’s the only way everyone can walk away from this unscathed since that seems to be your priority. Understood?”

His eyes darted from her to Sihoon, then back to the manager wihtout saying anything further.

As he walked out of the room, Jinyoung reflected on Sihoon’s stone cold expression as if this wasn’t her “friend”’s life they were talking about. He could Sihoon trust about as far as he could throw her. Yet, he knew she was the only person Y/N might even consider letting through her door—and all the more reason to watch her every move like a hawk.

Two Weeks Later

Y/N

It had been two weeks. Fourteen days since Jinyoung stood in her room and told her to leave. Fourteen days since the last words between them—cold, final, meant to sever everything.

No texts. No calls. No contact. He had unfollowed her on Instagram. Removed her entirely. Like she had never existed. Like everything between them had been some fleeting fever dream he was now desperate to forget.

Y/N hadn’t left her apartment since.

The sunlight had stopped feeling warm. The city beyond her windows might as well have been another planet. She kept the blinds drawn. Her phone stayed face-down on the nightstand, vibrating every morning with missed calls from the company—her manager, the PR team. Subject lines lit up her inbox: “URGENT – PRESS CLARIFICATION REQUIRED” “IN-PERSON MEETING NEEDED”

She didn’t answer. Not because she didn’t care—because she couldn’t.

Everything inside her had gone still.

She barely ate. Just boiled packets of ramyeon whenever her body reminded her she was alive. It felt absurd and embarrasing that a man could have this kind of hold over her life. But it wasn’t just any man. It was Jinyoung.

And what was he doing while she cried into her sleeves and tried to forget how to miss him?

Posting.

Y/N had shamefully been checking his Instagram to see if anything else changed, if he maybe unarchived their photos— the posts of them he had taken down from his page probably the same day he unfollowed her. Instead, she would find each time she checked a new post of him carrying on with life as if nothing had ever happened - and it felt like a punch to the chest. He was active nearly every day, smiling, thriving, as if she’d never been a part of any of it.

But this night in particular hurt the most.

Because when she checked his instagram, there it was: a carousel of behind-the-scenes photos from the Witch she assumed. In each one, he was leaning in close to his co star Roh Jeong, taken with a disposable camera, with gems on his cheeks his costar had very obviously put on for him.

the way this genuinley pissed me off when this was posted needs to be studied 😭

It was infuriating.

Rage overcame her.

And there was Jinyoung, smiling as if nothing in the world had ever broken him.

He looked so good it made her sick. Unbothered. Untouched.

He had promised there was nothing between them. Sworn it. Now, the pictures told another story.

As if the truth didn’t matter. As if she hadn’t mattered.

He was out promoting the drama like none of it had happened. His face on billboards. His name in headlines. And her? Cut from the final edit.

Every time she saw him on a screen—smiling, charming, effortless—her chest ached like the first day all over again.

She tried to explain away, that this was just promotion. But it didn’t stop the sinking feeling that maybe he really had meant what he said that night. Maybe she had never mattered as much as she thought.

Then, came a knock at the door.

She ignored it at first. Curled tighter on the couch, holding her breath. Please just leave. Part of her feared it was a saesang—somehow still lurking, despite the company’s unfulfilled promise to move her to a new place.

But the knock came again. And again. Softer this time. Hesitant.

Clearly this was not stopping anytime soon.

When she finally dragged herself to the living room to look through the peephole, her breath caught.

It was Sihoon.

She stood there in a hoodie and jeans, holding a brown paper bag with steam curling from the top. Her face was unreadable—but her eyes were kind.

Y/N blinked, stunned. They hadn’t spoken since that night. Since the truth Y/N hadn’t wanted to hear.

Still, Y/N opened the door.

Sihoon let out a quiet breath. “I… didn’t know if you’d open,” she said. “But I figured you weren’t eating, so.”

Y/N didn’t speak. She just stared, too tired to push her away, too lonely to close the door. She stepped aside to let her in.

Sihoon entered gently, toeing off her shoes like she’d done it a hundred times—like even silence had to be handled delicately here. The apartment was dim. Quiet.

Y/N returned to the couch, arms wrapped around her knees. Sihoon placed the bag on the table and sat across from her, legs folded.

No mention of the company. No talk of the contract. Just one question, soft and steady: “How are you?”

Y/N didn’t answer right away. Instead, she unlocked her phone and held it out. Jinyoung’s new post glared up from the screen.

“I’ve been better,” she said.

Sihoon glanced at the post, then quietly set the phone face-down beside her. She said nothing. Just opened the containers and handed Y/N a spoon.

And for the first time in two weeks, Y/N took it.

They sat in the quiet hum of the apartment. City sounds murmured beyond the walls. Sihoon rubbed slow circles on Y/N’s back, the tissue box between them.

“I didn’t leak it,” Y/N whispered, voice hoarse from days of crying. “I swear—I don’t know how it got out. I don’t even know who had access. But he… he thinks I did.”

Sihoon nodded slowly, saying nothing, grounding her with touch instead of words.

“All he said was that it didn’t matter anymore. That he didn’t mean a word of what he wrote.” Her voice cracked. “You read it, didn’t you?”

She didn’t wait for an answer.

“He said he loved me. How could that be fake?” Her eyes shimmered, pleading. “And then he just unfollows me and starts posting these pictures like nothing happened? Tell me… have they been together this whole time?”

A pause.

“Was I the fake relationship?”

“I don’t know, Y/N,” Sihoon said honestly.

Y/N folded into her hands. She didn’t need to see Sihoon to feel her silence. “And I know you want to say it. I can feel it—the dreaded words. ‘I told you so.’”

“I’m didn't say that,” Sihoon murmured.

“But you thought it,” Y/N snapped, then softened, wiping her cheeks. “You warned me. Not directly—but you knew. You saw how I looked at him. How stupid I was getting. I just—” She exhaled shakily. “I really thought I knew what this had become. I thought I finally knew what it meant to be wanted. To want someone. I know what it feels like to be used—and this wasn’t that. It wasn’t.”

Her voice was breaking now, thin and full of disbelief. “The things he said… the way he looked at me. The little things. You don’t do all that if it’s not real. Right?”

Silence.

Then, gently, Sihoon pulled her close. “No,” she said. “Anyone would’ve believed in it.”

And so Y/N cried again. Because the hardest part wasn’t that she had believed it. It was that, deep down… a part of her still did.

Jinyoung

For a full week following his meeting with the team, Jinyoung kept his head down and his hands moving. He posted carefully curated photos on social media, smiled through final cast group shots, and approved post-production edits for the press behind The Witch. Then came the early prep for the Hi-5 movie campaign—new outfits, media trainings, brand meetings. He nodded along in silence, dodging every reporter's veiled curiosity, every online whisper, every question about Y/N, like stepping around landmines with a practiced grace that was starting to split him open from the inside.

And still—he came home each night he laid in bed unable to sleep. He hadn’t heard from her. Not a word.

And no matter how much he buried himself in work, a part of him was always bracing—for something to fall apart. For something else to leak. For the guilt of not believing her to turn into something permanent.

By that Friday, the other six couldn’t take it anymore.

They showed up at his apartment after work, didn’t ask, just told him to bring a jacket and come up to his apartment rooftop. He was too tired to argue.

Someone had brought a portable grill. Someone else had already picked up groceries.

Yugyeom tossed him a pair of tongs like it was normal, and Jaebom passed around the beers.

It should’ve felt like home. Easy, grounding to be around family. And yet it felt anything but. Because someone was missing. Jinyoung sat on the rooftop couch grilling marinated pork while the others joked and drank around him, all he could think of was her.

Jinyoung’s chopsticks hung loosely in his fingers, the sizzling sound of meat on the grill fading into the background as someone across the table cracked a joke he didn’t catch.

Laughter rang out. Bottles clinked. The table was crowded—half-empty plates, overturned lettuce leaves, grease-slicked dipping sauces.

He was smiling, sort of. Or at least pretending to be. Enough that no one questioned it.

Another shot glass was slid his way. He downed it automatically. Burn. Swallow. Exhale.

The warmth in his chest wasn’t from the soju or from beer.

He leaned back against the couch, head tilting lazily to the side, eyes trailing over the familiar faces around him.

He should’ve felt better. That was their goal.

His eyes flickered to his phone lying face down beside his thigh. For a second, he just stared at it. Then, slowly, he picked it up.

No notifications.

Not from her.

He turned the screen off again, but didn’t set it down. Just held it there, thumb brushing over the edge like it might summon something. A text. A missed call. Anything.

Fourteen days.

He’d been counting - of course he had. Even when he told himself not to. Even when he told himself it was better this way.

He had said awful things. Cold, deliberate things to make her leave that night. Told her that he didn't mean his confession.

But now-

Now he couldn’t stop seeing her everywhere.

Especially here on this rooftop. Only two months ago Y/N sat here with him, on the same rooftop, joking around with everyone, feeding Jinyoung from time to time. The memory hit like a punch to the ribs and quelled any desire to eat the pork he had just grilled. He felt sick.

And now, what should've been a warm summer night felt frigid cold for Jinyoung.

Only two months ago he felt his life was finally becoming complete, and every person he cherished in his life surrounded him, but now one of them was gone, and therefore it felt like everyone else might as well be gone.

A burst of noise from the group brought his attention back. He blinked, sitting up straighter as someone poured him another drink. He forced a half-smile, accepted it, raised his glass.

He drank.

Then another.

And another.

But even through the haze creeping in, she was still there. It was evident their fear that if they stopped talking Jinyoung would think about her. But little did they know that was happening anyways in the spaces between words. In the breath. Her absence was distracting.

He glanced back at his phone.

Still nothing.

A beat passed.

Then, without thinking, he opened Instagram.

Her profile was gone from his follows, of course. He’d made sure of that. Unfollowed her like it meant something. Like it could erase what they were.

But his fingers hesitated now. Hovered over the search bar.

He shouldn’t look. He knew that. It would only make things worse.

But he did anyway.

Typed her name.

Waited.

And when her page loaded—private again, of course—he just stared.

Her profile picture hadn’t changed.

Neither had the ache in his chest.

He locked his phone as a silence spread over the group.

They didn’t bring it up at first.

He didn’t have to say anything - but they could feel the silence tightening around him like a noose.

For a while, they had let him exist in it, carried the conversation with enough volume to keep things afloat. But it was inevitable for the moment to come.

As they sat in silence, Mark was the one who nudged it open, eyes low as he took a sip of his beer. “Was it true?”

Jinyoung blinked, smiling slipping. “What?”

“The postcard,” Mark clarified. “You really wrote that to her?”

Jinyoung looked down at his plate. Nodded once. “Yeah.”

No one moved.

“Then why haven’t you said anything about it?” Jaebeom asked, still casually tending the grill, though his tone sharpened just slightly.

Jinyoung’s jaw tensed. “Because saying something makes it real.”

“It is real,” Youngjae said, not unkindly.

“They want her to come in and sign early termination paperwork,” Jinyoung added, voice lower now. “They’re prepping a joint statement just in case.”

“She hasn’t responded?” Jackson asked, brows furrowing.

Jinyoung shook his head. “Not to anyone.”

“That’s... not good,” Jackson murmured.

“Not only is it a bad look, it’s a bad situation,” Jinyoung said quietly. “If she doesn’t sign, they’ll move forward with legal action.”

“Is that what you want?” Yugyeom asked gently.

Jinyoung looked down at his hands, fidgeting with the tongs.

He didn’t answer.

“Didn’t think so,” Jaebeom said after a beat.

“So what now?” Youngjae asked.

“I keep playing along,” Jinyoung muttered. “That’s the deal. As long as I act normal-keep promoting, smiling, doing press—they’ll hold off. They said they’d ‘investigate.’” He scoffed softly. “Whatever that means.”

Silence settled again.

“You still love her,” Jaebeom said eventually, no judgment in his tone.

Jinyoung didn’t flinch. Just kept his eyes on the grill. “It’s only been two weeks,” he said. “Not much changes in two weeks.”

“Then don’t pretend like it has,” BamBam said. “You’re not built for this fake shit, hyung.”

Jinyoung gave a small, humorless laugh. “That’s the problem. The whole thing was fake, remember? Why did I agree to this?”

“No,” Mark said, firm. “It started fake. It didn’t end that way.”

“I don’t think she did it,” Jaebeom said, pouring another drink.

“I don’t either,” Youngjae added.

“She would’ve had everything to lose and nothing to gain,” Yugyeom said. The rest of the group hummed in agreement.

Jinyoung stayed quiet, turning over the meat. It sizzled in protest.

“Do you?” Jackson asked. “Think she did it?”

Jinyoung exhaled slowly. “I don’t want to believe it.”

“But you still have doubts?” BamBam pressed gently.

“I just… don’t know,” Jinyoung admitted. “They gave me all these screenshots of shit being sent from anonymous accounts. But that's not proof it was her either.”

“You know her better than screenshots,” Mark said.

“Do I?” Jinyoung said, voice almost breaking with quiet frustration. “Because right now, it feels like maybe I never really did.”

“Hyung.” Yugyeom’s voice softened. “You're the only one who knows what happened between you two. You just don’t trust yourself to believe what your heart is telling you.”

Jinyoung said nothing, finally setting the tongs down with a quiet clink. His chest was tight, breath uneven. “I haven’t heard from her,” he said. “Nobody has.”

“Well have you even tried to call her?” Jaebeom asked.

Jinyoung didn’t respond.

“Maybe you should,” BamBam said. “She might be waiting for you.”

“She might hate me,” Jinyoung whispered.

“She might miss you,” Yugyeom countered. “Just like you’re missing her.”

Jinyoung stared into the flames, shoulders tense. And all he could wonder was what she was doing right now, and better yet, what she was thinking?

He glanced back at his phone.

Y/N

Y/N had cried through half the movie and into the next. She didn’t even remember what they were watching anymore—just that it was supposed to be comforting. Something light, something familiar. But it didn’t matter. The image of Jinyoung doing the cutest poses with his co-star’s Roh Jeong burned into the back of her eyes. She’d seen it on Instagram—posted without shame, like she hadn’t existed, like Jeju hadn’t happened.

Sihoon didn’t say much, just stayed close, handed her tissues when she needed them, refilled her tea without asking. Y/N was grateful for her, even if the ache in her chest wouldn’t ease no matter how many times Sihoon said he’s not worth it.

Eventually, sleep came like a mercy.

She curled up on the couch, tissues crumpled in her hand, breathing finally even. Sihoon stayed seated beside her, a blanket pulled over both of them, the volume on the TV turned low. By this point it was 1 am in the morning.

The room was dim and quiet when Y/N’s phone lit up on the coffee table.

Jinyoung.

His name burned against the dark screen like it had no business still being there. The vibration echoed against the wood of the coffee table—once. Twice. Again.

Sihoon tensed. She didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Just stared.

The sound felt louder than it was, cruel somehow, like the universe had a sick sense of timing. Y/N was still asleep, lashes clumped from dried tears, lips parted slightly in a restless dream she didn’t want to be having.

The phone kept buzzing. The name kept flashing.

Jinyoung.

And Sihoon just sat there, stunned, watching it ring like it was something alive. Like it might explode if she touched it. She didn’t dare look away—not even as her heart started to race with a strange, cold dread.

Because of course he was calling. Of course he still was.

Y/N stirred, and before the ringing could wake her up, Sihoon reached for the phone, and held it to herself, noticing how it didn’t wake Y/N up.

She stared at the screen, letting the last rings of the call ring out, before it detailed that he was leaving a message. Sihoon had to cover her mouth so as to not gasp.

After what felt like forever, the screen went away, and Sihoon tilted the phone to scan Y/N’s face, and it unlocked without resistance.

She went immediatley to his voicemail and clicked on it to press play, lowering the volume and holding it up to her ear to listen.

His voice filled the room—quiet, raw, unsure, drunk, as if he was in the room.

“...I don’t - I don’t even know what I’m doing right now…” Jinyoung’s voice was sluggish, slurred slightly—drunk. Hurt. “I shouldn’t be calling you…”

Sihoon sat still, barely breathing.

“How could you do this to me?” he whined. “To us?” he scoffed. “I should hate you? Shouldn’t I?” he said, a bitter laugh hiding beneath his words. “I should.” he resolved.

The silence that followed stretched out, thick and uncomfortable.

“I don’t know if you did this or not. I don’t know if I ever will. But it doesn’t even matter anymore.” he passed it off annoyedly.

Sihoon’s eyes darted to Y/N, still asleep, her brow slightly furrowed like she could hear him in her dreams.

“I should hate you—for what this became. For how everything just… broke. I should hate you for making me question if any of it was ever real.” Jinyoung exhaled hard, voice tight.

His words came slower now. Sihoon tensed.

“I hate that some part of me still wants to believe you’d never hurt me like that. I hate that I believed I knew you better than this when maybe I never really knew you at all.”

“But what I hate more than you right now… is that I still feel this way about you despite what you might’ve done to me. To us.”

Sihoon blinked rapidly, her throat tightening.

“I miss you.” he said, vulnerably.

Sihoon widened her eyes. Silence on the recording. Then, in the smallest voice yet:

"Every damn second, you’re in my head. I can’t stop thinking about you. I miss you, okay? I miss the way you made me laugh without trying, the way you used to push me over the edge and drive me insane, and then the way you would kiss me afterwards to bring me down." "Look, you're not even near me and you're still driving me insane." he remarked bitterly.

"I’m still holding on, still hoping—still waiting—for some sign, any sign that what I believed about you was true. That I really did know you, that you never hurt me the way I’m afraid you did. That this pain, this silence—it’s not the end for us. Please… just give me a sign. Something to hold onto before I lose everything".

A pause so long Sihoon thought he might’ve hung up—until he spoke again.

“I hate it. I hate all of this. But somehow I just can't bring myself to hate you.”

Another pause. A final truth, heavier than all the others.

“And that’s the part I hate the most.” Then quieter, more broken than before: “Please. Just tell me you’re okay.”

The voicemail ended.

Sihoon was shocked. He sounded … himself. Not the polished version from press interviews. Not the ghost from the Instagram photos.

This wasn’t the Jinyoung that was typically always frigid and rude with the everybody else… maybe at the beginning of the voicemail.

Sihoon glanced at Y/N—still asleep, her lashes wet from crying.

But instead, this was a Jinyoung only Y/N knew.

Sihoon just stared at the phone, a strange ache building in her throat.

Part of her was impressed—after everything Y/N had done, after all the ways she hurt him—how was it possible he still called her? Still missed her? Still wanted her? How deep did it run, that kind of love? How close had they really been for him to sound like that?

As for the other part of her.... Her thumb hovered above the screen.

And then, like it was the simplest thing in the world, she deleted the voicemail.

Deleted the call log.

And blocked his number.

AN* AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, have yall been seeing Jinyoung promote his movie though???? He looks so sexy its hard writting these chapters like this when I just wanna eat him up 😞 And omg an Unknown Seoul epsiode is on tonight how exciting. And whats up with JB's concert being postponed?? I was contemplating going to one but id have to drive like 2 hours plus go alone SHABHDSBAJSJDJKS, but it'd be worth it!

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