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intpweb · 4 months ago

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The Weight of What Was | Park Wonbin.

TWs: wonbin as the ex, breakup, unresolved feelings, emotional pain, attending an ex’s wedding, themes of nostalgia and bittersweet closure.

Stranger by Olivia Rodrigo

The apartment was too quiet. Too empty. Y/n stood in the center of their once-shared home, staring at the scattered boxes filled with pieces of a life that no longer belonged to them. The walls still echoed with laughter, whispered confessions, and late-night conversations about the future they thought was certain. But now, those dreams had been packed away too—folded neatly like the clothes they once borrowed from each other, discarded like the promises they failed to keep.

Wonbin was on the other side of the room, silent. His presence still felt familiar, but there was now a distance between them that neither could cross. It was strange how love could turn into something so fragile, so painful. Neither of them had wanted it to end this way. But something had broken, something they couldn’t fix. And they were too tired to keep pretending otherwise.

“Take care of yourself,” he finally said, his voice heavy but steady. Y/n swallowed, forcing herself to nod. “You too.”

They didn’t fight. There were no grand gestures, no dramatic goodbyes. Just a quiet acceptance of the inevitable. And as she walked out of the door for the last time, she didn’t look back.

Years later

The city felt smaller than she remembered. Maybe because she had changed. Maybe because everything felt different without him. Y/n had returned home after years of staying away, throwing herself into work, convincing herself that moving forward meant forgetting. She thought she had succeeded. Until her mother handed her the invitation.

“Wow, look at this fancy thing,” her mother hummed, inspecting the envelope dramatically. “You know, for a second, I thought it was from the lottery office telling me I won a million dollars. But nope! Just your ex-boyfriend getting married.” y/n raised an eyebrow, taking the card from her mother’s hands.

“He even sent one to us? That’s bold,” her mom continued, shaking her head in mock disapproval. “I mean, at least send some money for emotional damages. I practically considered him my son-in-law already.”

Y/n huffed a small laugh despite herself, running her fingers over the embossed lettering. His name. Someone else’s name beside it. The date. The venue. The finality of it all. Her mother’s voice softened slightly. “Are you okay?” y/n forced a small smile. “Yeah. It’s been years. He deserves to find his own happiness.”

Her mom gave her a long look before nudging her side playfully. “Well, he also invited you. What do you think? Free food? Fancy cake? A chance to dramatically object at the altar?” y/n rolled her eyes. “Mom.”

“What? Just saying, if you want a dramatic moment, I’ll bring popcorn.” Y/n shook her head, but her smile lingered. She hadn’t planned on going. But maybe, just maybe, she needed to.

Y/n decided to come. she told herself she was here for closure. That it didn’t matter anymore. But the moment she stepped into the hall, memories came rushing back—of stolen kisses, late-night talks, whispered ‘I love you’s that once felt infinite.

She thought she had moved on. But something inside her still ached. And then she saw Wonbin’s mother. The older woman’s eyes softened the moment they met y/n’s, and before she could react, she was pulled into a warm, familiar embrace.

“I miss my daughter,” she whispered, and just like that, the walls y/n had built around herself cracked.

She let out a small breath, steadying herself. “I miss you too,” she admitted, her voice softer than she expected. And then, as if the universe wasn’t done testing her, she felt the shift in the air. The weight of someone’s gaze.

She turned. Wonbin stood a few feet away, dressed in the kind of suit they used to joke about him wearing on their own wedding day. He looked good. Happy, maybe. But his eyes told a different story.

For a long moment, they just stared at each other. It wasn’t like in the movies—no dramatic music, no slow motion. Just two people who had once meant everything to each other, now standing on opposite ends of a reality they never thought they’d live.

Y/n took a deep breath and walked toward him. It felt natural. It always had.

“Hey,” she said, offering him a small smile. Wonbin’s lips curved slightly, though his eyes remained unreadable. “Hey.”

She tilted her head, glancing at the guests, at the decorations, at the life he was about to step into. “You did well.”

“Did I?” His voice was calm, but there was something in it—something only she could catch. A flicker of hesitation, or maybe nostalgia. She nodded. “Yeah. You did.”

There was a beat of silence. Not awkward, not tense. Just the weight of all the things they didn’t say. “I wasn’t sure if you’d come,” Wonbin admitted after a moment. Y/N exhaled through her nose, something like amusement in her expression. “Me neither.”

He let out a small chuckle, and for a second—just a second—they were them again. The version of them that existed before everything fell apart.

“You look good,” he said, his voice quieter now. “So do you.” Another pause. A knowing look passed between them. They had loved each other. Deeply, honestly. And maybe a part of them always would. But life had other plans, and they had learned—sometimes love wasn’t enough.

Y/n glanced toward the front of the hall, where the ceremony was set to take place any moment now. “You should go,” she said softly. Wonbin held her gaze for just a little longer, as if memorizing the moment. Then, with a slow nod, he stepped back.

“Take care, y/n,” he murmured. She smiled. A real one, this time. “You too, Wonbin.”

And just like that, the past let them go.

#wonbin #park wonbin #riize #riize imagines #wonbin imagines #riize is 7 #Spotify

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intpweb · 5 months ago

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taesan is for …

sungho • riwoo • jaehyun • taesan!! • leehan • woonhak

a/n. hi loves!! i’ve decided to let bonedo join enha + txt for this series on my blog ^__^ the very first one being taesan~ AKA. another self callout post . please enjoy onedoor <33

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ──

taesan is for those who fail to love in moderation; you can see it in the way they speak so fondly of their friends; the various trinket collections scattered around their room; the way their voices raise a pitch around babies or animals; the love letters they’ve never sent collecting dust in the closet.

taesan is for those who treat their playlists like little diaries; bits and pieces of them hidden behind lyrics they relate to all too well; the people they think of when those love songs play; the memories associated with each soulful melody; the endless nights they spent with music as their only comfort.

taesan is for those who obsess over personality tests, archetypes, and astrology because they have an ache to be known; for anything to give breath to their identity because its proof that they are someone (what’s ur favorite uquiz… i know u have one,,).

taesan is for those who cringe whenever a particular name shows up in their predicted text box or photo gallery memories (they can’t hurt you anymore, i promise).

taesan is for those who are hyper independent because they don’t believe that their needs are worth the time of others (to deny help is a disservice to yourself,,, i hope that one day u can open up your heart again my love).

taesan is for those who carry a particular melancholy with them, who have diligently learned to live alongside it despite it all (happiness isn’t something meant to be deserved, but you deserve it all).

── ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

req to be added to taglist !! ^^ until next time xx take care of yoursellf <3

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intpweb · 7 months ago

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The Infinite Echo

pairing: hyunjin x karina

The square buzzed with life. Merchants called out, their voices blending with the laughter of children darting around the fountain. The sun hung stubbornly overhead, casting golden light over the cobblestones and shopfronts. The town was alive, vibrant. But to Hyunjin, it was empty—a scene replayed too many times to matter. He wasn’t supposed to remember.

Each time the world reset—each time the cycle began again—everyone else forgot. The kind baker who slipped him free bread? Gone. The musician who once sang melodies that left him in tears? A stranger now. And Karina—the one person who made the endless repetition bearable—she always started over, their connection wiped clean with every reset.

In the beginning, Hyunjin tried to recreate what they’d shared. He sought her out, reintroduced himself, made her laugh, and rebuilt their bond. He fell in love with her again and again. But no matter how deep their connection grew, no matter how much she trusted him, it always unraveled. The world would collapse, reset, and Karina would forget.

Now, he kept his distance. Hyunjin leaned against a weathered wall, watching Karina inspect a bouquet of violets at the flower stall. She looked just as she always did—sharp-eyed, radiant, a magnet for the people around her. But this time, he didn’t approach her. He couldn’t. The thought of starting over, knowing how it would end, was too much to bear.

He turned away, slipping down a familiar alley, hands buried deep in his pockets. It ached. The memory of her laughter as they danced under festival lanterns—it ached. The way she’d rested her head on his shoulder, whispering secrets she said no one else knew—it ached. And the cruel truth that, to her, those moments had never even happened? That ached the most. They were ghosts, memories that haunted only him.

The alley opened onto a cliffside overlooking the endless sea. Hyunjin sat on the grass at the edge, watching waves crash against jagged rocks below. The reset was coming—it always did when the sun dipped below the horizon. He’d tried to stop it before, scoured the edges of this looping world for answers. Every time, he failed. Every time, he was yanked back here, to this place, this life.

“Hyunjin?”

The sound of her voice jolted him.

He turned to see Karina standing a few feet away, the violets still in her hands. Her expression was hesitant, her posture unsure.

“I saw you earlier,” she said, taking a small step closer. “You looked… sad. Like you were carrying something too heavy.” Hyunjin’s chest tightened. She didn’t remember him. Of course she didn’t. This was just another version of her—another Karina who didn’t know the weight of the life they’d shared in another time.

“I’m fine,” he said, forcing a smile that felt brittle. Karina didn’t move. Her gaze lingered on him, steady and warm. “You don’t look fine. Sometimes it helps to talk about it, you know.” Hyunjin shook his head. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Maybe not,” she replied softly, settling onto the grass beside him. “But I can listen.”

For a brief moment, he considered it—laying it all out. The endless loops, the resets, the lives they’d built together and the ones they hadn’t. But what would be the point? By morning, she wouldn’t remember any of it. By morning, she’d be someone new again.

Instead, he asked, “Do you believe in second chances?” Karina tilted her head, considering. “I think life gives us more than one chance to get things right. Even if we don’t realize it.”

Her words hit him like a blow. How many chances had he been given? A hundred? A thousand? And yet, every single one ended the same way—with her gone, and him left holding nothing but memories. “What if,” he said, his voice barely audible, “you had all the chances in the world, but they didn’t matter?”

Karina frowned, reaching for his hand. Her touch was warm, grounding him in the present. “I think they matter if you believe they do. Even if no one else knows, you do.” Hyunjin studied her. The way sunlight wove through her hair. The way she cradled the violets like they were precious jewels. For now, she was here. For now, she was his Karina, even if she didn’t know it.

Maybe that was enough.

The sun slipped below the horizon, streaking the sky with orange and gold. Hyunjin closed his eyes, bracing himself for the reset. He knew it was coming—the erasure of this fleeting moment.

When he opened his eyes, the square was alive again. Merchants shouted over the crowd, children’s laughter echoed near the fountain. And there she was, at the flower stall, holding a bouquet of violets. Hyunjin turned away, a bittersweet smile tugging at his lips.

This time, he wouldn’t say hello.

based on this prompt:

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