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The Sun that Always Burns | CH.3

sim jaeyun x fem!reader warnings: hurt and lots of yearning, mentions of alcohol and panic attack, honestly i think thats it! anything else lmk w.c: 13.2k synopsis: it has been four years since you left your old life and started building a new one. you have settled, found new friends, just about to graduate university. things are looking up. but when your best friend invites you to her sisters wedding, your new life if about to be flipped upside down. a/n: hi! it has been a loooong time but chapter 3 is here <33 a massive thank you for all your patience, i know you guys have probably forgot all about this but since i have written this part and having posted in like 3 months, it's only right i give you guys smthn! it's also my birthday so take this as a present. this chapter has no smut since it's a story arc but there are looots of emotion and plot in here so i hope you all enjoy it the same <3

chapter 2 | masterlist | chapter 4

Four years have passed since you left. Four years without a word to your family beyond a carefully chosen Christmas card, one without a return address or landmark, just enough to let them know you are alive but not enough to invite a response. Sometimes you stare at the cards before you send them, turning them over in your hands, wondering if it would make a difference if you added something more - just a sentence, a small glimpse into your life now. But you never do. You’re not sure they’d want to hear it. Or maybe you’re just afraid they wouldn’t.

Do they hate you for what you did? Would they slam the door in your face for leaving so abruptly? It’s a constant fear for you to imagine them cold and bitter because of your reckless decision.

You miss them in ways that are difficult to put into words, in the quiet moments that catch you off guard - the smell of your mother’s cooking that no restaurant has ever quite been able to replicate, the sound of your father’s laughter when he’s trying not to, the way your childhood bedroom always had a slight chill no matter the season. You missed every part of it, of your old life.

Sometimes you allow yourself to imagine going back, just for a visit, just to see them again. For your mum’s birthday, maybe, just to see how they’ve aged if at all, changed in any way. But the thought of it makes your chest tighten. You aren’t the person they remember. They knew the girl who ran, not the woman who’s learned how to stand still on her own.

College changed you. At least, that’s what you tell yourself. And you like to think it was for the better.

Eunseo had a lot to do with that. She was the first person to make you feel like you belonged in Avanti, sweeping into your life on the first day you moved in like a summer storm, full of light and noise, already knowing where everything was, who to avoid, which cafés made the best coffee. She was god sent.

You were a mess then, a crying, dismantled version of yourself, and she took you in without hesitation. At first, you thought she pitied you. Maybe she did. But as time went on, it became clear - Eunseo was simply the kind of person who loved with her whole heart, who saw someone in need and decided to stay.

You wouldn’t have made it without her.

Even after she graduated last year, she stayed close, finding a job nearby to remain in the city she loved. You see her often, and every time, you are more than grateful. Grateful for the nights she held you together when you thought you were falling apart after one too many pity parties, for the mornings she dragged you out of bed when all you wanted was to disappear into the blankets. She managed to turn the dark cloud that hovered over you into one with a rainbow, helping you appreciate that there is still some light even in bad weather.

Your college years have been full in the way you hoped they would be - studying late into the night, stumbling into parties you swore you wouldn’t go to, making the kind of questionable choices that are excused by your youth and recklessness.

But one thing you couldn’t do was fall in love.

You started having flings in your second year. Just casual fuck arounds - one-night stands, situationships that never turned into anything real. It was just to get the itch out of your system. A girl has needs and even your broken spirit needed a good fucking every so often - even if it is with questionable men that have so many red flags that you could stitch them together and lure in a bull to the pen.

Eunseo never questioned it either. “I support women’s rights,” she’d say, raising her glass with a smirk, “but more importantly, I support women’s wrongs.”

She never asked why you never settled down despite clearly being someone who craves love more than lust, she never pried, and you’re thankful for that. She was good like that.

However, even if she didn’t pry, your brain did a good job of keeping your reasoning for abandoning love at the forefront of your mind.

Jaeyun’s name hasn’t passed your lips in 1,460 days. A choice you made the moment you stepped off the bus in Pyeongchang. Yet, despite your best efforts, he never really left you. His name lived in the spaces between your thoughts, in the way every touch from another felt hollow, in the way no words ever settled in your chest the way his did. You learned to ignore it. To push it down. But it never disappeared.

Your heart still beats to the sound of his soul.

Still, you’ve built something for yourself here. You’re in your final year of University and oh so content with at least this aspect of your life. Happy, even. You found your way into film by accident, stumbling into a passion you hadn’t expected but now couldn’t imagine letting go of. An internship at Lift Media loomed on the horizon, the kind of opportunity you wouldn’t have dared to dream of before. For once, things felt like they were falling into place.

And yet, as much as your heart is filling up with other loves, you can’t shake the puppy-eyed boy out. He’s always going to take up space within your chest, always there, always loved by you.

You still thought about him every day. Wondered if he was happy. If he was enjoying Busan. If he had moved on. That last thought is the one you try to avoid, the one that leaves an ache in your chest when it creeps in late at night. You want him to be happy. Of course, you do. But selfishly, you don’t want to know if that happiness is because of someone else.

Someone who isn’t you.

“Helloooo? Y/N? Are you even listening?”

Eunseo waves a hand in front of your face, pulling you back to the present. You blink, realising you’ve been staring out of the café window, watching the way the autumn leaves gather in piles along the pavement, so free but connected. You turn back to her, sheepish.

“Of course,” you say, not very convincingly. “You were saying how much you love me and that we should get married.”

Eunseo scoffs, but her eyes are full of amusement. “Weirdly, you’re close.”

Your brow furrows as you set down your coffee. “Wait, really?” You love Eunseo, you do, but you’re not sure marrying her is on your bucket list. Sharing a bed with her for the rest of your life as she kicks purple bruises onto your skin doesn’t sound so appealing.

“Well, not us.” She gestures vaguely, fingers splaying in the air like she’s conjuring an image. “Marriage is involved, though.”

Your stomach drops. “Please don’t tell me you’re marrying Serim after, like, three dates.”

Park Serim; strong, devoted, and the only man who has been insane enough to put up with all of Eunseo’s schemes. She likes to vet her men before committing and it is a gruelling process - another reason you don’t want to tie the knot with her. But Serim is up for the challenge it seems, not phased by the silent treatment, her list of pros and cons that she literally sent to him so he could analyse and add on anything he thought she missed…he’s a perfect match for her.

She barks out a laugh, smacking the table. A few heads turn at her sudden outburst, but she doesn’t care. “I like him, but I’m not that insane. He hasn’t even passed the pussy eating test yet,” she smirks, “I’m testing that out next week.” Her pussy eating test, aka, he can make her cum at least two times from his tongue alone.

You shake your head as you pick up your coffee, taking a long contemplative sip. “So full of romance and wonder, Eunseo.” Your tone is light and carefree as she grunts, knowing you’ll never understand her process of finding a husband.

“Whatever, Y/N,” she leans forward, eyes burning with intent. “It’s my sister getting married.”

You nod, placing your coffee down on the table, remembering her mentioning it in passing. Eunseo doesn’t speak much about her family. Not because she doesn’t want to, but because she knows that it’s a touchy subject for you. You deflect at the mention of family or anything to do with your past, to be honest, so she doesn’t spout too much about the ins and outs of her own.

“She’s a control freak,” Eunseo continues. “Wants everything planned down to the last detail. And someone dropped out, which means there’s a spare seat at the wedding. And guess what? You’re free that weekend.”

You hesitate. You’ve never met her family. Despite her keeping her conversations about family to a minimum, she has invited you to gatherings before out of politeness, but you always declined, not wanting to impose. Or maybe, deep down, you weren’t ready to be surrounded by something that felt too much like home.

Eunseo reads your hesitation immediately, knowing you like her favourite recipe. “Come on, Y/N. Just this once. I checked your schedule and you have nothing on. I even have a dress for you. And you owe me one.”

Your eyes narrow. “For what?”

“Well, not yet,” she admits, grinning. “But I heard the best man is single, older than you and has these ridiculously big eyes that could melt stone. I’m setting you up with him.” Her face is smug and bright as she divulges her plan to you.

“So let me get this straight,” you quirk a brow, “I owe you for something that hasn’t even happened yet?”

“Details, details.” She waves a hand. “Please, Y/N. I want you to meet my family. Think of them as yours, yeah?”

That tugs at your heart a little. Your best friend offering you a place in her family is a privilege you don’t feel worthy of.

“Eunseo-” You’re about to decline, the words on the very tip of your tongue, but she’s already pouting, eyes big and imploring. She knows how to get you. You sigh, knowing you’ve lost before you’ve even begun. “Fine. I’ll come.”

The sun shifts, its light spilling through the window, warming your skin.

“Great!” Eunseo claps, practically bouncing in her seat. “We leave tomorrow.”

Your head snaps up. “Tomorrow?”

“Yep.” She stands, grabbing her bag. “We need to be there early for fittings and all that wedding stuff.”

You groan. “I thought the wedding wasn’t until Saturday?”

“Yeah, but I figured I’d drag you along early. Or, you know, you could drive yourself.” Her grin is wicked and knowing, teasing you.

You deadpan as you stand up to meet her eye level. “Fuck you. You know I can’t drive.”

She laughs, taking your hand. “And I still don’t understand how you’re 23 and can’t even handle a go-kart.”

You roll your eyes but smile. Maybe this will be good for you. Maybe, for once, you can let love surround you without thinking about…

Him.

___________

You fold the last of your clothes with carelessness, stuffing them into your suitcase as if cramming fabric into the confined space might also quiet the noise in your head. It’s been years since you last packed for anything, and as you stand in your small flat, staring down at the open case, it occurs to you how little you’ve really needed to.

Pyeongchang became your sanctuary once you left. The mountains, the crisp air, the rhythm of city life on the outskirts of something wild and untamed. It gave you a semblance of purpose or at least the illusion of one. Between coursework, bakery shifts, and your occasional attempts at being social, you never felt the urge to leave nor have you had the time. Every corner of this place holds something new, something untouched by your past.

And yet, here you are, packing. Again.

Your fingers brush over the worn handle of your suitcase, the same one you clutched so tightly four years ago when you boarded that bus and never looked back. It’s one of the few relics you’ve kept from that life, the only piece of baggage - literal or otherwise - that made the journey with you. Even now, just the sight of it stirs something uneasy in your stomach. The ghost of who you were then lingers in its scuffed corners and fading stitching, a silent witness to your agony.

Something about packing and the memories of your teenage self resurfacing makes you queasy and regretful that you accepted the invitation from Eunseo.

A wedding. Love. Commitment. Things that once felt sonin reach, but now only seem distant and abstract. Love, as you once knew it, is buried within the past, and the thought of surrounding yourself with it, watching people promise forever, eels like an exercise in masochism.

You experienced a love so potent with Jaeyun that it became part of your DNA, something that rooted itself in your bones and refused to let go, like a ghost haunting the walls of their old house as it tries to find its purpose before crossing over to death. It was unfiltered, all-consuming. It was real. Now, you see couples around you, holding hands in coffee shops, sharing quiet laughter in the bakery queue, and it all feels…less. Their love is not your love, not close. It never will be. You tell yourself it’s unfair to think this way, that you’re projecting a lost love onto theirs, planning the failure of each couple in your head to make you feel better about your own dead relationship, but that doesn’t stop the feeling from creeping in.

The ‘what ifs’ come next, as they always do. What if you had stayed? What if you had gone with him? Would you have a ring on your finger? A life mapped out together? Would you be standing in Eunseo’s sister’s place, preparing for your own wedding instead of just attending one? It’s a dangerous path to wander down, and you force yourself to step away before you drown in it.

You check the clock. 10:23am. That gives you roughly seven minutes until Eunseo arrives.

Your eyes drift across the room, checking for any loose ends before landing on the navy hoodie draped over the back of your chair. CERRITOS, bold and white, emblazoned across the chest. You don’t even remember putting it there - it usually stays tucked away, hidden from sight. Out of sight, out of mind. But of course, it never really is.

This was Jaeyun’s. His favourite. The one he pulled over your head when you were cold, the one he gave you after long nights tangled in his sheets, the one that smelled of him long after he stopped holding you. Eventually, it became yours in a quiet, unspoken exchange. He never asked for it back, only ever taking it to refresh his scent on the fabric before returning it to you, as if making sure his presence lingered even when he wasn’t there. He liked knowing you smelled like him - he told you once, with a grin and a kiss to your shoulder, that it made him feel like a wolf marking his mate.

Now, the fabric has lost its scent, but not its hold over you. You still wear it on the nights you miss him most, wrapping yourself in memories you can’t seem to shed. You tell yourself it’s just a hoodie. Just an object. But it’s not, and it never has been.

Your hands tighten around the fabric, pressing it to your chest for just a moment before you throw it into the suitcase. If this trip is going to be difficult - and you already know it will be - you at least deserve some small comfort.

Then, before your mind can spiral further, a car horn blares outside, the sound lingering just a second too long.

Eunseo.

You snap the suitcase shut, zipping it up with a finality that feels like sealing away something far heavier than clothing. With a deep breath, you grab the handle and step towards the door, forcing your feet to move forward. Whatever awaits you at this wedding, you’ll face it head-on.

Or at least, you’ll try.

_____

The drive to Eunseo’s parents’ house is smooth, the kind of journey that allows your mind to wander without urgency. The road bends gently, framed by towering trees that murmur in the summer breeze, their rustling leaves forming a soundscape of whispers - soft and full of life. You roll down the window, resting your head on your arm, letting the wind tangle through your messy hair. The air is thick with the scent of sun-warmed earth and pine, soothing in a way that makes your chest feel lighter, if only for a moment.

Eunseo is quiet when she drives, her usual stream of chatter absent. It’s one of the rare times she lets silence settle between you without filling it. You appreciate that about her - the way she understands when to pull you into her world of relentless energy and when to let you sit in your own thoughts. She knows you love a quiet drive, taking the time to just be. She hums under her breath to the Noah Kahan album she selected as she steers with one hand, the other drumming lightly against the wheel.

The further you go, the more the city thins out. Towering buildings are replaced with green fields, the occasional farmhouse dotting the landscape. It’s the kind of place that makes you forget about deadlines, unread messages, the gnawing ache of old memories. The sun feels warmer here, sinking golden fingers into your skin. You wonder if it’s always like this or if your nerves are just making you hyper-aware of everything.

By the time Eunseo pulls up to her family home, your breath catches.

House doesn’t feel like the right word. Estate, maybe. Mansion. Something too grand for you to comprehend. The building is decorated in cool ash-coloured stone, its towering windows reflecting the afternoon light. Ivy creeps up the sides in a random sprawl, woven with clusters of pink flowers that look bright and inviting. The driveway is lined with cherry blossom trees, their petals fluttering like confetti as Eunseo’s car disturbs the stillness.

The sheer scale of it is mesmerising. You knew Eunseo came from money - she’s joked about it often enough - but you didn’t realise she was this kind of rich. The kind that makes your worn-down suitcase - and you - feel even smaller against the backdrop of something so opulent.

Perhaps you should have known you were walking into boujee territory when you were passing by houses with more than one car in the driveway.

She grins at your expression, tapping the steering wheel. “We’re here!” Her voice is alight with excitement, eyes gleaming. You nod, making a silent promise to mirror her enthusiasm, even if a part of you still feels like you don’t belong here, or want to be here; you can’t ruin her time by being a debbie-downer

You step out, stretching your legs that grew stiff from the drive. The stairs leading up to the entrance are wide, a pristine white door waiting at the top like something out of a film. There’s a moment - just a passing flicker - where the sight of it triggers a memory. Not of this place, but of a conversation.

Those rich bitch houses are so ugly with their grand doors that look like you’re reaching heaven. I want as small a house as possible so I’m always close to you, no matter what room I’m in.

Jaeyun’s voice is so clear in your head it makes you pause mid-step. His bright smile and promise of a future you ripped away from him sit heavy on your heart. But you shake him off quickly, forcing your legs to move, dragging your suitcase up each step while holding your dress bag straight. Halfway up, you curse every rich person’s need to be extra and bigger to flaunt their money because your thighs are already burning.

The door swings open before you reach the top, revealing a broad-shouldered man with a beaming smile. “My baby!” Eunseo’s father’s voice booms, warm and full of unmistakable joy. He pulls her into a hug so tight you wonder if she can breathe.

You miss your father. It’s not a thought you allow yourself to dwell on often, but moments like this make it impossible to ignore. His comforting words, the piggyback rides, the way his oddly spiced cinnamon body wash would cling to his clothes - things you never realised you’d long for until they were no longer within reach.

“This must be Y/N! It only took four years to meet you,” Eunseo’s father laughs, deep and rich, before pulling you into a hug just as tight as the one he gave his daughter. There’s something about the way he embraces you that makes your throat tighten - a quiet kindness, an unspoken welcome. You return the hug with one arm, the other stretched outward to keep your dress from creasing.

“Thank you for having me. It’s an honour to be part of your daughter’s big day.” The words are easy, overly polite, but genuine. He steps back, his eyes crinkling with a warmth that makes you feel fuzzy inside. You understand where Eunseo gets her kindness from.

“You’re more than welcome here. Our home is yours.” He says it so definitely that you can’t help but feel for even a second that you belong here. “The party is in a few hours,” he tells you, gesturing towards the house. “The happy couple aren’t here, off running last-minute errands, but you’ll meet them tonight.” Then he turns, pointing up the grand staircase inside. “Eunseo will show you where you’re sleeping. If you need anything, me and the wife will be hovering around.”

She didn’t mention a party.

You barely have time to react before Eunseo grabs your wrist, practically vibrating with excitement. “You’re going to love them,” she gushes, dragging you inside. “They’re super nice, especially her man, literally like someone out of a hot cowboy Elsie Silver book - minus the cowboy and more geeky.”

You smile at her description. It’s nice that her sister has found someone with so many green flags. You’re not really one to hang around with good men these days, your rendezvous is strictly for men who don’t expect anything more from you than a quick fuck.

Although, if they’re as good as your best friend makes them out to be, you’re in for one loved-up week…Not the greatest outcome considering you still can’t look at a heart themed anything without bursting into tears at what could have been for you.

Still, you push it down, letting her pull you along and up the mansion’s stairs, her voice spilling over with enthusiasm as she titters about the night ahead.

Despite yourself, you smile. Maybe, just for tonight, you can let yourself exist without the weight of the past pressing down on you.

___

A few hours later, the hum of conversation and clinking flutes drifts up from the party below, a telltale sign that the engagement celebration is on full blast. Laughter rises but up here, in the quiet sanctuary of the bedroom, Eunseo is focused, curling a wispy strand of your hair with precision. The soft scent of heat and hairspray lingers between you.

You glance up at her, taking in how effortlessly beautiful she is. The way her bangs frame her face, how her naturally pouty lips curve into a smirk - she’s flawless in that unbothered way only she can be. You’re jealous.

“If you keep staring, I’ll literally take you on the bed,” she teases, flicking your forehead gently.

You laugh, shoving her shoulder in protest. “You wish.”

Puckering her lips dramatically, she leans in close as if she’s about to kiss you. You play along, tilting your chin up just enough to humour her. Life is easy with Eunseo, like floating down a calm river in a dingy, no effort, just the gentle push of the current guiding you forward. You used to be this way with Jaeyun.

Perhaps it’s the similarities between them that make you gravitate towards the girl so effortlessly.

“Alright, go get changed. I need to see my masterpiece complete.” She steps back, admiring her handiwork before marching over to grab the dress. Without warning, she thrusts it against your chest, eyes gleaming. “You’re gonna look amazing. That babe of a best man is gonna fall at your feet. Now, go.” She shoos you toward the ensuite with an exaggerated wave of her hand.

As you take the dress from her, a thought creeps into your mind. You hesitate, gripping the fabric a little tighter before asking, “How many people are actually going to be at this party?”

Eunseo turns back to you with an innocent blink, lips pursed as if contemplating how to break something gently. “Oh, you know,” she hums, twisting a curl of her own hair between her fingers, “just a few people.”

You narrow your eyes. “Eunseo.”

“Okay, okay, fine.” She throws up her hands. “A lot of people. Like, a lot a lot. The bride and groom are crazy popular. And I mean, not just with family - we’re talking old classmates, colleagues, some of their industry friends, all of our cousins… It’s basically a mini wedding before the wedding.” She claps her hands together in excitement.

Your stomach tightens. “Eunseo, I thought this was just a small gathering. Like, a family thing.”

“Oops?” She grins, clearly unbothered by the panic creeping into your expression. “Come on, it’s gonna be fun, and a good 80% of these people are only here for the party tonight, not the entire time.” The reassurance is welcomed but lacks the impact you need. If there are a lot of people down there, you need to find the quietest corner and hope the night passes quickly.

Parties are fine, you like them. It’s the ones where you can’t get wasted and fall over your own feet that are the issue.

“You’ll be the hottest one there, aside from me, obviously,” Eunseo smirks, eyes landing on the bag that contains the mystery dress. You let her pick it because you’re semi-hopeless at picking appropriate clothes for special events. Even in high school, if Yeji wasn’t picking your outfits for occasions, you were not going.

That’s one thing that hasn’t changed.

You groan, pressing your fingers against your temples. “I swear you do this on purpose.”

“Of course I do.” She winks. “Now, get changed before I dress you myself.”

You sigh but comply, stepping inside and locking the door behind you. The mirror greets you, reflecting the version of yourself that Eunseo has carefully crafted tonight.

Never in your life have you looked this beautiful.

For a moment, you just stare, taking it all in. The soft curls, the expertly blended makeup, the way your features seem more refined yet still wholly your own. It’s strange. You feel like you’ve shed something - some old version of yourself left behind to make way for…this.

With careful fingers, you unzip the garment bag. The fabric spills out in a cascade of deep, sultry red. You gasp.

“Um, Eunseo?” you call out hesitantly, holding the dress up against your body. It’s stunning. Silky, form-fitting, allure dripping from the seams - but far too sexy for a family event. “This dress is…”

“Hot,” she finishes for you from the other side of the door. “Now shut up and put it on. My cousins will be wearing something way sluttier, so you’re fine.”

Her nonchalant tone does little to reassure you, but it’s either this or the more conservative dress meant for the actual wedding. So, with a deep breath, you slip it on. The material hugs you in all the right places, cinching at the waist and draping over your hips like liquid. It’s been months, more like years, since you’ve worn anything this beautiful, since you’ve felt this beautiful.

Your fingers absentmindedly reach for your necklace, the familiar weight of the sun settling against your collarbone. The gold glows softly against the red fabric, a stark reminder of everything you’ve carried with you, even when you tried to leave it behind.

Honestly, you wanted to get rid of the necklace and replace it with something that had far less meaning than the burning orb and etched date attached to it. But you couldn’t. This wasn’t a massive blue diamond that you could through into the ocean, this was much more. This represented love.

When you open the door, Eunseo is waiting, now changed into a pastel blue dress that fits her like a glove. It’s modest in the arms and neckline, but a daring slit runs high up her thigh. Your jaw nearly drops at the sight of her.

She eyes you up and down with an approving nod. “Look at you! A literal goddess.” She takes your hands, giving them a little squeeze. “You ready to upstage my sister at her own engagement party?”

Your stomach flips. “Eunseo…you didn’t pick these outfits just to stand out, did you?”

She scoffs, feigning innocence. “Of course not! We’re just naturally hotter than everyone here - including her.” She grins mischievously before grabbing a shoebox from the bed. Inside is a pair of gold heels - the exact ones you had admired earlier while she was unpacking. She holds them out to you.

“Take these. You can kick them off whenever, but for the grand entrance, you need to be complete.” She waves a hand over you like an artist admiring their finished painting.

You shake your head with a chuckle, but there’s warmth spreading in your chest. Maybe, just for tonight, you can let yourself feel good about being seen.

Putting on the gold heels, you instantly gain four inches, rising to Eunseo’s eye level. You wobble slightly, adjusting to the unfamiliar height, but she steadies you with a firm grip on your arm.

“Ready to rock this bitch?” she asks, flashing you a devilish grin.

You take a deep breath, smoothing down the silky fabric of your dress before giving a resolute nod. Without hesitation, she latches onto your arm and drags you toward the staircase.

The moment you descend, you feel it. A shift in the air. Eyes - far too many of them - turning toward you with quiet intrigue. Conversations falter for the briefest moment, and though it lasts no more than a heartbeat, it’s enough to make your skin prickle. You feel like Hilary Duff when she cascades down the stairs at the Halloween Dance - beautiful and awe-stopping

Some gazes are appreciative, admiring even, but others linger in a way that makes your stomach turn. The ones that belong to men at least twice your age. The way they lick their lips makes you recoil. You resist the urge to fold your arms over your chest and focus on the buzz surrounding you instead.

God, you could use some Tequila Rose right about now.

It’s a scene straight out of a film - elegant and absurdly extravagant. Waiters weave effortlessly through the room, trays balanced with hors d’oeuvres so delicate they look like they belong in an art exhibit rather than in someone’s mouth. Champagne flutes glimmer under the glow of a massive chandelier, its crystals refracting light like a sky full of stars. Every surface is polished to perfection, from the marble floors beneath your heels to the sleek, gold-trimmed furniture arranged in intimate clusters throughout the space.

You try not to think about how much this all costs. The thought alone makes your bank account whimper in greed...or is it envy?

“This is insane,” you murmur under your breath, leaning slightly toward Eunseo.

She hums in agreement, though with far less concern . “Yeah, my parents don’t half-arse anything. Wait till you see the wedding.”

You scan the room, taking in the sea of impeccably dressed guests. Men in tailored suits and women draped in silks, their jewellery glinting as they gesture animatedly in conversation. The hum of laughter and clinking glasses creates a steady, lively backdrop.

Your eyes land on an older couple near the grand piano, deep in discussion. The woman wears a string of pearls that likely cost more than your entire tuition, and for a brief moment, you wonder if there’s anyone here generous - or drunk - enough to pay off your student loans.

“Don’t even think about it,” Eunseo says, nudging you playfully. She had a knack for reading your mind and as soon as she sees your eyes bulge out with dollar signs, she knows exactly what you’re thinking.

You scoff. “What? One of these rich dudes could be my knight in shining Prada.”

Eunseo barks out a laugh before snatching two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter, pressing one into your hand. “If you pull that off, I’ll personally bow at your feet and kindly ask you to get your new money bank to pay off my credit cards.”

Perhaps that’s one reason why you never knew just how wealthy Eunseo is. She never got handouts, everything was in her name which meant everything she bought, everything she owned, was entirely through her own hard work. She could easily ask her father for money - you can see that quite evidently now as you stand in the grand living room - but she never does.

Grinning, you clink your glass against hers before taking a tentative sip. The bubbles tickle your tongue. Definitely not the cheap kind you’re used to. You don’t know if you can go back to Tesco’s extra dry prosecco.

“Hey, Eunseo?” Your voice is steady, curious. “I just realised…I don’t know Yeoreum’s fiancé’s name.”

She pauses mid-sip of her champagne, then bursts out laughing, smacking your arm lightly. How could she forget to tell you? “Oh, that’s right! It’s Jaeyun.”

Your heart stutters. There are a lot of Jaeyuns in Korea. Jaeyun from TO1 could walk through that door for all you know. The name alone isn’t enough to set you off balance, not yet.

“Jake is what he goes by, though,” she adds, completely unaware that she has just set off a grenade inside you.

Jake.

Your stomach drops, so fast and so violently you feel like you might actually be sick. There might be a hundred Jaeyuns in this country, but how many also go by Jake? The odds feel astronomically slim, but you tell yourself, desperately, that maybe - fucking hopefully - it’s just a really strange coincidence. Maybe it’s some other Jake. Some other Jaeyun.

But then, the voices in the archway grow louder, and you know you’re out of time.

Yeoreum enters first, radiant and poised, her beauty effortlessly eclipsing every photograph Eunseo had shown you. And then behind her.. he steps in. Jaeyun.

Your Jaeyun.

The air leaves your lungs. Static floods your ears, drowning out the noise of distant conversation and glee. He’s greeting guests, shaking hands, smiling that easy, beautiful smile and all you can do is stand there as panic claws up your throat, like a cat clinging on to a curtain for dear life. Each step he takes towards you feels like a countdown to something catastrophic.

If your body would listen to you, you would be running, bolting out of the nearest exit, disappearing before he could see you. But you can’t move. You can’t breathe. You can only watch, helpless, as he draws closer.

He looks different, yet exactly the same somehow. Sharper, his boyish softness long gone. His face has hardened in the way time does to people, more defined now, but those eyes, fuck, they haven’t changed at all. He’s wearing a black suit, tailored to perfection, he’s wearing no shirt under his low-cut v-neck blazer, exposing tanned skin and the chain resting against his collarbone - the same chain you’ve had dangling in your face as he made love to you. His hair is slicked back, though a few strands have rebelliously fallen forward, framing his face in the way they haven’t before

He looks expensive. He looks effortless.

He looks like home.

Eunseo says something to you, her voice getting lost to the sound of your thumping heart. Because now, Jaeyun’s gaze lands on you, and in an instant, everything shifts.

His body stills. His expression freezes, and just for a second a flicker of recognition, disbelief, and unreadable awe falls over his features. He turns toward you instinctively, as if the force pulling you two together still exists, still lingers after all this time. And that realisation terrifies you.

“Eunseo!” Yeoreum’s voice breaks through the tension, bright and oblivious to the cloud of thick anguish as she rushes forward, throwing her arms around her sister. “Oh my god, I missed you!”

Eunseo grins, squeezing her back. “Missed you too, brat.”

“Jakey, come here,” Yeoreum calls, beckoning Jaeyun closer. He moves without breaking eye contact with you, his steps measured, cautious, like he’s approaching something fragile. He doesn’t quite believe you’re real, you can tell it in the way his eyes are screaming in confusion and adoration, like you’re some sick pre-wedding prank.

“You must be Y/N,” Yeoreum says, beaming at you. “Eunseo talks about you all the time!”

She is stunning. Warm and kind in a way that feels effortless, her presence somehow golden, just like her sister. She is perfect.

Perfect for him.

The realisation claws at your insides, and you feel like you might actually fall apart at any moment.

Still, you plaster on a smile, pushing every emotion deep, deep down. “It’s so nice to finally meet you,” you say, voice just barely holding steady. You hug her lightly, stealing one last glance at Jaeyun while she can’t see you. His expression is unreadable, his lips parted slightly like he wants to say something, but no words come out. His eyes…they are still the same. Still looking at you like you are everything.

You force yourself to turn back to Yeoreum, ignoring the burning in your throat. “Congratulations,” you say quickly, like ripping off a plaster, your skin tearing as the word leaves your lips. How can you be happy when she’s the one holding the love of your life’s heart in their hands.

“Aw, thank you!” she smiles so appreciatively, and you want to scream.

It’s too much. All of it. The weight of the past, the suffocating closeness of him, the way your body still reacts to him like no time has passed at all. It’s too much.

“Excuse me,” you blurt, already stepping back. “I’m just going to the restroom, I’ll be right back.”

You don’t wait for a response. You don’t care if anyone calls after you. You just turn and leave, weaving through the crowd, heart pounding in your ears. Each breath feels too shallow, your chest tightening as you break into a near-run up the stairs.

The moment you reach the guest room, you push the door open and slip inside, shutting it quickly behind you. And then finally, you allow yourself to exhale. A shuddering, ragged breath as you clutch your chest, fingers trembling.

How? How out of every man in this world, out of every best friend’s sister’s fiancé, did it have to be him?

You stand in the middle of the room, eyes squeezed shut as you replay the last five minutes over and over again, like a nightmare on a continuous loop. The sound of his voice, the way he looked at you, the way your body responded before your mind could catch up.

The past was supposed to stay buried. But now, it’s here. It’s him. And there is nowhere left to run.

“Y/N?”

The Australian accent cuts through the air like a blade, sharp and unrelenting. You turn slowly because moving too fast might shatter you, seeing him too quickly might make your bones dissolve and heart shatter all over again. And then there he is.

Jaeyun. The boy you once knew, now a man, standing mere inches away. His eyes lock onto yours, widening in disbelief, and before you can react, his hands are on your face, fingers trembling as they cradle your cheeks, his palms pulsing with fear and excitement, joy and apprehension. His body presses against yours, so close you can feel the warmth of him, the steady, aching pulse of a heart that once beat only for you.

“Baby,” he breathes, the word breaking apart in the space between you. His eyes scan your face like he’s trying to commit you to memory, to prove to himself that you’re not a cruel hallucination. “Where did you go?”

The anguish in his voice nearly undoes you. It’s raw, unguarded, desperate. That way this is his first question, no anger or disdain towards you in the slightest - even if you did deserve it. No. It’s pure love still laced in every syllable. Somehow, you wonder if it would be easier if he just blew up, told you to fuck off and never come back because right now, the way he’s drinking you in like you’re his entire world still, makes everything much harder.

Instinctively, your hands fly up, gripping his wrists as you squeeze your eyes shut. The weight of the years crashes over you, the memories pressing into every crevice of your being. You have missed his touch. Although his hands are a little rougher, they still hold the gentle fondness they used to.

“Princess,” he whispers out the pet name so easily, like not a moment has passed. His forehead presses against yours, his breath unsteady as he finds words to plead. “Please talk to me.”

Jaeyun’s hands drift from your face, tracing down your shoulders, his touch hesitant, reverent yet firm like he’s afraid you might disappear again. His eyes flicker over your features, drinking in the changes, the subtle marks of time. You are older, wiser, perhaps a little more guarded, but you are still you. Still the girl he once loved. The girl he still-

His voice cracks. “What happened? Why did you leave?”

You swallow the lump in your throat, fighting to steady your breath. And then, finally, you speak, holding in a gigantic sob. “You’re...engaged.”

Probably not the first thing he was expecting you to say after four years.

The words land between you like a grenade, blowing up the fairytale and bringing him back to reality. His hands drop from your skin, leaving behind a coldness that seeps into your bones. He stares at you, mouth parted slightly, struggling to process the weight of your statement.

He can’t deny it or pretend it’s not happening. He is marrying someone. Someone who isn’t you. The last time he looked into your eyes, felt you under his fingertips, he had promised you were the girl he would get on one knee for - he even gave you a ring as a placeholder for when the day would come.

“She seems nice,” you add, voice barely above a whisper as you try and act put together.

His jaw tightens. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Pretend.” His voice is quiet, but there’s a storm of anguish brewing beneath the surface. “Don’t act like this doesn’t hurt you too. Don’t make it seem like I’m the only one breaking right now.”

Your breath catches. He’s so raw with his feelings and you can still read every single one of them. He’s upset, delirious, confused, and still stricken with love. That’s why it hurts to watch you pretend that this isn’t affecting you too. In fact, this should be affecting you more yet he’s the one with trembling hands and a bruised heart.

Jaeyun exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair before gesturing helplessly toward you. “I looked for you everywhere,” he says, his voice raw. “I spent months trying to find you.”

You knew that already. Of course, you did. Deep down you would have guessed that his threat to search over the country for you was more than a false promise. But for months? You thought maybe a few weeks, a couple of sleepless nights before he would have left for Busan and moved on. But months?

His voice wavers. “What did I do?”

Your heart clenches. “Nothing.” It’s the first question you truly answer and it only leads to more queries in his fragile heart.

Jaeyun shakes his head as he refuses to accept the answer. “You don’t just abandon people you love, Y/N. Not like that. Not us.” He hesitates, his eyes searching yours. “There had to be something I did to make you fall out of-”

“Jake!”

The voice cuts through the moment like a knife though distant in the hallway. You flinch, your head bowing instinctively as your heart pounds against your ribs.

Jaeyun turns slightly, his body still half-angled toward you as if reluctant to pull away completely. His eyes beg you for something - an answer, an excuse, anything. But you have nothing left to give him.

“Y/N, please,” Jaeyun wants to hold you, kiss you, to have you wrapped up in his embrace the way you should be. He needs to understand what happened but he can’t. Not right now. Not at his fucking engagement party. “Don’t leave me again, baby, please.” His voice is quiet, despair etched within his tone as he cuts you off. He cannot lose you again, not without some semblance of an answer.

His gaze flickers downward, landing on the delicate gold chain around your neck. His chain. The one he gave you years ago, the one you never stopped wearing. He inhales sharply, his eyes tracing the familiar shape of the pendant. There is still some hope within him, the gleam of the necklace in the light mirroring his faith that you still love him somehow. When he looks back up at you, he looks undone but resolute.

“You look beautiful,” he murmurs as though it’s a secret just for you, scared that the girl he’s promised his name to downstairs might overhear. “Just like always.”

“Jake, your dad’s about to give a speech-”

Heeseung’s voice carries through the room but Jaeyun doesn’t move. Neither do you.

Stepping inside, Heeseung’s footsteps falter as his eyes land on you. He freezes, his expression shifting from confusion to something darker. For years, Heeseung tried to let go of his anger, convinced himself that seeing Jaeyun happy with Yeoreum was enough to forgive the past. But now, the resentment simmers beneath his skin, clawing its way back up as he stares at you. The audacity of you.

“Y/N?” His tone is cutthroat, his disbelief barely contained. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

You don’t look at him. You don’t dare.

“You should go,” you murmur, forcing the words past the lump in your throat. “I’ll leave in the morning.”

“Don’t,” Jaeyun pleads, eyes blown out with panic. “Don’t walk away again…”

You shut your eyes. You can’t do this. Not now. Not here.

Brushing past him and Heeseung, you make your way to the door, ignoring the way Jaeyun’s fingers graze your wrist in a desperate attempt to hold onto you. You don’t stop. You don’t look back.

The moment you step out into the hallway, the world feels unbearably loud. His family is here. His friends. People from a past you wanted to erase. Your vision blurs, the weight of it all pressing down on you as you rush down the stairs, each step echoing in your ears.

You aren’t paying attention when you collide with someone at the base of the staircase, the impact jolting you back into reality.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, bowing quickly, hands trembling at your sides.

“Y/N?”

This time, it’s Mr. Sim’s voice that grabs your attention. It quivers with astonishment, his eyes widening as they land on you. “What are you doing here?” He steps closer, his head tilting slightly to level with yours as if trying to confirm that you are, in fact, real, much like Jaeyun had just done. “What-” His voice falters, words escaping him as he looks at the girl he once believed would marry his son.

You swallow thickly, forcing yourself to bow respectfully. “Mr. Sim, it’s nice to see you again.” You speak evenly, though you avoid his eyes. “I’m sure you’re very proud of Jaeyun.”

“Sweetheart, we thought something awful had happened to you.” The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, forcing you to meet his gaze. Heartache carves deep lines into his features, the weight of unspoken words pressing between you. “Your mum and dad haven’t stopped worrying about you.”

Those words almost cause you to break, hearing about the pain you’ve put your parents through, but luckily a gentle hand touches your shoulder, grounding you. Eunseo - your saving grace.

“Girl, there you are! You took one long bathroom break.” She laughs, blissfully unaware of the storm swirling inside you. She bows politely to Mr. Sim. “Ready for your speech, Sir?”

Mr. Sim studies you a moment longer before returning Eunseo’s bow. “I’ve been preparing this speech for years,” he says with a tight-lipped smile, “only needed a few minor tweaks.”

His eyes flicker over you one last time before he heads down the stairs. You know. You know exactly what he meant - he had once imagined giving this speech at your engagement party, the one that everyone who knew you and Jaeyun had already planned - he didn’t think someone else would be in your place.

Eunseo’s grip tightens on your hand, guiding you toward the dining hall, where the room is fully alive, unaware of the inner turmoil you’re facing. Your chest tightens as Jaeyun strolls in behind Heeseung, hands casually tucked in his pockets - until he sees her. His future wife - Yeoreum. A soft smile graces his lips as he pulls her into his side. The action is effortless, instinctive.

And it shatters you.

It should be you.

You should be marrying him, taking his second name, waking up to him every morning for the rest of your life. Your body quakes with a need to be close to him, that quick taste of his touch on your skin clearly not enough to curb your appetite for his love.

A fork clinks against a wine glass, drawing everyone’s attention. Mr. Sim clears his throat, a warm smile spreading across his face. “Thank you, everyone, for coming. I’ll keep this short, considering I’m sure you’re all sick of us talking - especially with a free bar in the room.” Laughter erupts, and you watch as Yeoreum beams up at Jaeyun.

It’s unbearable.

“My son,” Mr. Sim continues, “has always been someone who wears his heart on his sleeve, who gives one hundred percent of himself to the person he loves.” His eyes find yours, and you stop breathing. “Jaeyun deserves someone who loves him unconditionally, without prejudice, without pride, and always with his best interest in mind. And I believe he’s found that.”

The walls close in. Your vision blurs, and suddenly, the air is too thick, the weight of the past and present crushing you all at once.

You bolt.

Bursting through the entrance of the house, you gasp for air, chest rising and falling in erratic movements. Your fingers claw at your collarbone as if that alone will release the unbearable pressure, but nothing helps. The panic sets in quickly and you find yourself falling onto the steps, the cold stone under you doing little to wake you from this nightmare.

This cannot be happening. It can’t be. You’re sick, you’re hurt…and it’s all your fucking fault.

A hand touches your shoulder, warm and steady. Words reach your ears, muffled by the chaos in your head. You don’t understand them at first, but then the voice becomes clearer.

“Breathe for me, Y/N. He-He-Hoo, or whatever.”

You blink, dazed, as you look up to find Heeseung crouched in front of you. His Bambi-like eyes soften as he rubs soothing circles into your arms. “That’s it,” he murmurs. “Just keep breathing.” The world slowly steadies and your vision clears enough to focus on him. “Keep doing that for me, okay?”

Tears well in your eyes, the lingering pressure of it all threatening to drown you. Heeseung notices. He always does somehow. “Hey, look at me, Y/N. Tell me about that band you used to love back in the day.” His voice is gentle, coaxing you away from the edge - it’s a contrast to how he acted a mere few minutes ago in the room. “The one Jaeyun was always jealous of because you had that rapper as your lock screen?”

A small, watery laugh escapes you. “Monsta X?”

His lips twitch into a grin. “Yeah, them. They still together?”

You nod, sniffing as you wipe at your face. “Yeah, some are still in the military though.” Your voice is quieter now, calmer as you focus on something other than the hell surrounding you.

“Sucks, doesn’t it? I felt the same about ONF.” He chuckles, and somehow, you do too - though it’s accompanied by a sharp, aching sob.

“I didn’t mean to come here, Hee,” you confess, voice cracking. “Her sister is my best friend.”

His expression shifts, a flicker of understanding crossing his face before he removes his jacket, placing it over your shivering shoulders. “Y/N,” he sighs, knowing that his next words will tear you open and leave you bleeding on the cobbles, “you can’t be here. He finally moved on.” His voice is heavy with meaning, with quiet pleading. As much as he is angry at you, he still harbours a fondness for you from all those years ago.

“He’s happy.”

A lump forms in your throat because every piece of your heart has just fallen from you, mushed together, and formed a suffocating clog that you can’t dislodge. So instead of words, you nod and pretend to accept it. What else can you do? You know he’s right, Jaeyun is happy, if he wasn’t happy, he wouldn’t be set to marry Yeoreum on Saturday. He moved on.

“Heeseung?”

Jaeyun’s voice strikes you like lightning. Your body tenses, the warmth of Heeseung’s jacket no longer providing a comforting warmth as chills creep up your spine.

“Can I talk to her?”

Heeseung sighs, standing to face his best friend. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, man.”

They speak like you’re not even here, like this doesn’t involve you at all. But you can’t bring yourself to interrupt. The tension thickens between them, and for a moment, you think Jaeyun might argue. He’s always been stubborn when it comes to you.

But tonight, at least, he listens.

His gaze lingers on you - just for a second - before he turns back inside. You watch as he disappears into the crowd, as if this moment between you had never happened at all. And it kills you.

Because for the first time in four years, you saw the love still lingering in his eyes.

And for the first time in four years, you knew it didn’t belong to you anymore.

The party continues without you. The laughter, the speeches, the celebration - it all blurs into background noise as you make your way to the guest bedroom, brushing off questions with a simple, “I’m just tired from travelling.”

But the truth is, the real exhaustion isn’t from the journey.

It’s from loving him.

And knowing you can never have him back.

________

The house is silent now. That heavy silence that comes after a long night of music, laughter, and regret. You wake up abruptly, your throat gasping for a drink and your lips dry because even in sleep, your body has been fighting against itself. You can’t remember your dream - or nightmare - but your body feels heavy enough for you to work out that it involved a certain someone.

For a moment, you think the past couple of hours have been a delusion, you forget where you are as you glance around the spacious room. The unfamiliar plushness of the mattress beneath you, the gentle sway of the curtains in the night breeze, the faint scent of Eunseo’s lingering perfume in the air - it takes a second too long to piece it together. The guest room. The party. Him.

It wasn’t just a dream, unfortunately.

A dull ache pulses behind your ribcage, a reminder of the past few hours, of the words left unspoken and the memories that had clawed their way back to the surface. You squeeze your eyes shut, willing the thoughts away, but it’s useless. Heeseung’s voice echoes, Jaeyun’s eyes blaze into yours - the weight of it all clings to you like damp clothes.

You sigh, shifting onto your side, trying to force yourself back into sleep but the dryness in your throat is unbearable now, no amount of conjured-up saliva doing the the trick. You need water…and a gun at this point.

Slipping out of bed, your feet meet the cool hardwood, a biting contrast to the warmth of the thick duvet. The house feels different now - no longer alive with conversation and celebration, but resting, like a small village unfearing of a giant. The floorboards don’t creak under your careful steps, but the occasional rustle of your own movements sounds far too loud. Everything sounds louder when it’s quiet.

The hallway is dimly lit by the moon, the only illumination coming from the large windows at the end of the corridor. Shadows stretch long across the walls, elongating the picture frames that hold memories of a family that isn’t yours. You see Yeoreum, Eusneo, and their parents in different life scenarios - ones you can’t relate back to your own family. They’re so far removed from you in every way.

As you pass by the slightly ajar door of the bedroom, you hesitate. For no real reason, no real thought, just a flicker of something deep in your chest. You know this is Jaeyun and Yeoreum’s room, you heard them retreat into it after a long night of smiles and congratulations.

You move past it quickly, refusing to let your brain make the decision to barge in and confess your love for the engaged boy and kidnap him back to your boring, mundane life. Honestly, you didn’t think you had a simpleton life but after speaking with the Son family and seeing the extravagant guests tell their stories about weekends to the Maldives and owning football clubs, you realise very quickly that you’re just…normal.

Maybe that’s why fate put Jaeyun into Yeoreum’s arms. Because she is far from normal.

The stairs are bare now as you take them slowly, gripping the polished wooden bannister to alleviate some of the pressure from your feet. Each step is measured to not cause loud creeks. The house is old, and though elegant, it has its age showcased in the wood.

When you reach the bottom, the remnants of the night come into full view. Empty wine glasses left abandoned on tables, a few smudged lipstick stains marking their rims. The long banquet table by the staircase is littered with stray napkins and a couple of shattered glasses, carefully lined up as if waiting to be dealt with in the morning.

It must have been a wonderful night for them. And if things were different, you might have enjoyed it too.

Your fingers tighten slightly around the fabric of your sleeve as your eyes drift toward the kitchen. A leak of light bleeds from the space, a soft glow pooling onto the fancy marble floors. Probably an under-cabinet light left on, a small remaining spark of the party’s electricity. You step forward, your feet scuffing lightly against the cold tiles, but the moment you enter the threshold, you stop short.

A broad back stands in front of the sink, shoulders slightly hunched, head tilted downward. The navy and yellow plaid pyjama bottoms he’s wearing are loose around his hips, contrasting the casual black T-shirt that clings to his form. They don’t match - not in style, not in intent - just something he must’ve grabbed without thinking before bed.

A creak sounds beneath you, alerting them to your presence. The figure stiffens before slowly turning around.

Jaeyun.

His face is softened by the haze of sleep, one eye still half-shut, the other squinting slightly as if trying to determine whether you’re real or just some cruel trick of his half-awake mind. His dark hair is tousled, flattened in places but still holding onto the remnants of styling wax from earlier. There’s something achingly familiar about him like this - undone, caught in a moment where he’s just Jaeyun. Just yours.

Except, he isn’t.

The air shifts between you, thick with words neither of you can say. His gaze never wavers, locked onto you with an intensity that tightens your chest.

“Hi,” you whisper, breaking the stillness as you step past him toward the fridge.

It’s safer this way. To act like this is nothing. Like his presence doesn’t send electricity skittering all over your body. Like Heeseung wasn’t right when he warned you that this conversation - any conversation - was a bad idea. Because Jaeyun was never the kind to yell, never the kind to explode in anger. That wasn’t his way.

No. His love was always the dangerous part.

“It’s late,” he murmurs still hoarse with sleep. It reminds you of early morning rises for school where he kept you in his arms for just ‘5 more minutes’.

“Or early.” You shrug, focusing on pouring yourself a glass of filtered water. “I guess it depends on whether you went to sleep or not.”

Your attempt at small talk feels flimsy and hollow, but it’s all you have. Anything else would break the fragile thread keeping you tethered to reason. You know it will be far too easy to just fall back into his arms. You saw how quickly he went to being your teenage love in that room.

When he held your face in your hands, he looked like he would still give you the entire world, still move mountains to make everything simple for you, and still love you despite your betrayal. It’s better to just…pretend.

Jaeyun watches you, unmoving as he memorises the way your fingers curl around the glass, the way the light catches on your cheekbone, the way your shoulders rise and fall with the shallow gulps.

For him, this moment feels unreal. You - standing here in this kitchen, looking like you belong, like no time has passed, like his world hadn’t crumbled all those years ago. It’s a cruel illusion, a cosmic joke. Because as much as you haunt him, he has never felt more at home than he does right now.

Just you. Just here.

“When did you get engaged?”

The question lands between you like a strike to his chest, knocking the breath from his lungs. It forces him back into reality.

With his head hanging low, Jaeyun traces the rim of his coffee mug with his middle finger, the slow, absent-minded motion showing his hesitation. He exhales sharply, the weight of his own words is too heavy to bear.

“A few months ago.” His voice is quiet, not wanting to admit his new relationship out loud.

He feels like he’s cheating on you. When you left, he didn’t get closure. All he got was a ripped-open heart and no materials to heal it, wounds left open for the world to hack away at. When he started dating Yeoreum, she patched some of those holes but just your presence in this house has opened it all back up again.

His heart bleeding for you.

You nod, lips pressing together as you grip the cool glass of water in your hands. There’s a tremor in your fingers, but you ignore it. You have no right to feel this way, no right to let your heart ache at the revelation. He’s engaged. You knew this. And yet, hearing him say it makes it all the more real.

Jaeyun shifts slightly in his seat, his knuckles tightening around the ceramic mug before he exhales again. “What about you?” He hesitates, scared of the answer. “You seeing anyone?”

“No.”

It’s sharp, clipped, too direct to be casual. You don’t want to elaborate, don’t want to give away the truth - that there hasn’t been anyone, that no one else has ever felt right. That even after four years, even after all this time, he is still the measure against which all others have failed.

Jaeyun sucks in a breath, his Adam’s apple bobbing as if he wants to say something. Tell you he’s relieved? That it makes him happy you’re not with someone. That’s too cruel considering he’s the one promised to another.

In his hesitation, you find your own voice instead. “Eunseo…she’s my best friend,” you offer, the words tumbling out like an explanation, almost an apology. “I didn’t know it was you getting married to Yeoreum. I promise. I’m not…I don’t want…”

You will him to look at you, to see the sincerity in your eyes as your words fail you. But he doesn’t. He just nods, slow and mechanical.

“I’ll make up an excuse to get out of here before the wedding.”

At that, his fingers still. The room, once thick with words made of small talk and tip-toeing around the main issue, suddenly feels suffocating. And then, his voice sparks up, soft but laced with something raw, something close to heartbreak.

“Why did you leave, Y/N?”

The question freezes you in place.

“Tell me why,” he continues, breaking at the edges. “Because for four fucking years, I still haven’t been able to figure it out.”

Your lips part, but no words come out. You don’t even know where to begin. How do you begin? You couldn’t tell him when you needed to most, so how could you now?

Instead, you bite down on your bottom lip, forcing yourself to steady the tremble in your breath. Suddenly, the thought of him looking at you is unbearable. But of course, now - now of all times - his eyes are locked onto you, unwavering.

“You owe me that much.”

Your fingers tighten around the edge of the counter as you grip it, focusing on the feel of it as your mind twists and turns. The glass of water is forgotten as you force yourself to speak.

“I…” The word barely makes it out, caught in the tightness of your throat. “I just left.”

“Bullshit, Y/N.” Jaeyun’s voice is sharper now, frustration creeping in. He shakes his head, his jaw clenching as he leans forward. “You don’t just leave. You don’t just disappear without a word, without a fucking explanation to the people you love.” His hands press against the counter, knuckles paling as they mirror your terrified ones. “I waited. I called, I texted - I even went searching. I thought something happened to you at first.”

His voice dips lower, quieter, but it doesn’t soften the way it cuts through you. “I thought you were hurt. I thought you were dead because that was the only way my mind could comprehend you leaving me. Leaving us”

Your breath catches.

“Then your mum showed me that letter and I…I still can’t wrap my head around it Y/N. We were so fucking happy. Then poof! You’re gone without another word. I have lived four years of my life worrying about you, wishing that you would call. I haven’t even changed my number just in case you finally decided to reach out and we could be us again.”

The hurt in his words fill you with dread. You hadn’t thought about how it must have taken it’s toll at first, but you didn’t really think about how it would still effect him, not in the way he must have lived through it. The sleepless nights. The unanswered questions. The fear.

You feel like a fucking idiot. A selfish one at that.

“I didn’t get into any colleges that I applied for. None near Busan.” Saying it to him, admitting it after all this time feels…less significant than it did when you were eighteen.

Jaeyun’s brows knit together, confusion crossing his face. “What do you mean? I thought you only applied to schools near Apollo. We had planned-”

“My grades weren’t good enough to get into any colleges in Busan.” There’s venom in your tone, but it isn’t directed at him - it’s at yourself.

You inhale sharply, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “If I had told you I wasn’t going with you, I was scared you’d give up your dream school. That you’d just - fuck it all off to be with me.” Your voice wavers, but you push through. “And you would have, Jaeyun. You would have thrown everything away if I asked. I couldn’t do that to you. I would’ve lived with the guilt every day, watching you settle for something less than what you deserved. I loved you, Jaeyun - I couldn’t do that to you.”

Jaeyun flinches at the past tense in your confession.

But he doesn’t linger on it. Instead, he rewinds, his mind struggling to make sense of it all. “So you left our relationship because…it would be long distance?”

You swallow hard. “Jaeyun, it wasn’t just that. I thought about it, I did. But I knew you would grow at college without me. And I kept thinking about what you said…”

His expression shifts slightly, confusion washing over his features. “What I said?”

You nod, blinking against the stinging in your eyes. “About how people grow apart when they’re in different places. How they slowly break away from each other because they become different people.” You laugh, but it’s hollow, tinged with pain. “You said ‘I can’t do long distance’ and it got in my head. I couldn’t bear to slowly lose you. So I-”

“So you thought leaving me without a word was the right way to go?” His voice cracks and the hurt is so evident; the way his eyes are shaking, his voicebox now with a slight trill, the ragged breath escaping from his chest.

Jaeyun stands up, pushing his chair back with a quiet scrape that sounds like a foghorn in the dead night. He crosses the small space between you, hesitant yet resolute. His hands flex at his sides like he’s fighting the urge to reach for you, to touch you. He made that mistake earlier, your soft skin leaving a lasting impression on the palms of his hands and tips of his fingers.

God, he missed how you feel.

“Y/N,” his voice is lower now, pushing his urges down. “We could have worked it out. We would have found a way.”

His hand moves before he can stop it, despite the screaming in his head to tell him to back off. His fingers brush against your cheek - reverent, afraid you’ll recoil. But you don’t pull away and his heart skips. A single tear slips down your cheek, and his thumb twitches, resisting the urge to wipe it away, the act feeling too intimate.

Shaking your head, you finally look up at him, eyes glazed in regret. “I was stupid,” you admit in a whisper. “I didn’t want you to worry about me. You already had so much going on - school, work, your whole future ahead of you.”

Jaeyun says nothing, just watches you with that same tragic expression.

You inhale shakily, willing your heart to stop pounding. “But look at you,” you say, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “You went to college. You grew up. You moved on. Look at what you have.” Your hands gesture weakly upstairs, to where Yeoreum sleeps peacefully, unaware of the storm brewing in the kitchen below.

Jaeyun doesn’t look toward where his bride-to-be sleeps.

He just looks at you. Always at you.

“We could have had this, Y/N.” His voice is meek but the meaning behind his words is heavy. “You could be the one I’m marrying - if you just let me take care of you like a partner is supposed to. If you trusted me enough.”

Your stomach knots, your fingers curling into your palms painfully. “I did trust you, Jaeyun.”

“Not enough.” Jaeyun exhales, frustration bleeding into his words. “Not enough to tell me what was going on when I gave you that ring.”

You look away because you know he’s right. You hate that he’s right. That night when he gave you that ring, that is when you should have confessed your plans and worries. It was cruel of you to promise him a happily ever after and then ditch him the next morning.

That is something you will never forgive yourself for.

“Y/N,” He huffs out loudly and drags a hand through his hair, his chest rising and falling with a deep breath. “That should have been your opening to talk to me about all this. I love you so much - I would have made long distance work.” His voice is edged with desperation, his dark eyes searching yours in the dim kitchen, waiting for something. Maybe a sign that you regret it, maybe a sign that you still love him the way he so clearly still loves you. “When I gave you that ring and made that promise to be yours forever, I wasn’t fucking around, okay? I meant it.”

You don’t realise you’re shaking your head until he lets out a dry laugh, reaching for your hands.

His fingers slide over your skin, warm and familiar, and you hate how easily you let him hold you. Hate how your body reacts to him before your mind can protest. This is a man who is getting married and yet your body thinks he still belongs to you.

“Baby,” he murmurs, voice softer now, raw. “I love you.”

Your breath stutters. Each time he says he loves you it’s in the now, not the past. Your thoughts twist and turn, reading between every line. It’s obvious his feelings are heightened with the shock of you, that’s why he’s acting this way…not because he actually means it.

Right?

“Jaeyun…” you whisper, but there’s nothing else you can say.

The kitchen hums with an unbearable silence, save for the soft buzzing of the refrigerator and the sound of your own pulse roaring in your ears. Jaeyun notices the way your gaze flickers down to his lips, sees the way your breath shudders as he licks them wet.

He leans in, just enough that his breath fans against yours.

If he kisses you, if you let him - there will be no going back. You’ll melt into him, you mere ice and him the burning sunlight.

His forehead almost brushes yours, your hands still locked together, his fingers tightening like he’s afraid you’ll slip away again. He doesn’t want you to leave him. Not again.

Your heart lurches. This is wrong. You know it is. Yet, that gravitational pull brings your lips impossibly close to his.

And then - footsteps. Loud and unexpected, echoing into the suffocating quiet.

Your body reacts before your mind catches up. You push Jaeyun away, stumbling back a step just as another presence enters the kitchen.

Jaeyun barely moves. Even with the interruption, his gaze doesn’t leave yours. Your eyes are glassy, tears threatening to spill, and his lips part like he wants to say something - to call you back to him, to fix this.

But he doesn’t get the chance.

“Baby,” he whispers, just loud enough for you to hear.

You shake your head, barely able to breathe. Without another word, you turn on your heel, shouldering past him and heading back to the guest room.

“Y/N?” His tone is defeated, lacking hope.

Your feet falter for the briefest moment, but you don’t turn around. You’ve made a lot of mistakes when it comes to Jaeyun - you can’t make this one.

Jaeyun begins to move, following you, reckless abandonment overtaking his better judgment, but an arm shoots out, gripping his shoulder and halting him in place.

Jaeyun looks up, breathless, still reeling from everything that just happened.

Heeseung, his best friend, stands there with an expression that immediately sends a wave of nausea through Jaeyun’s stomach. Heeseung’s grip is firm. Unrelenting. He didn’t need to be present for the conversation to know what transpired. He can feel the electric charge that still lingers in the room. He can see the heartbreaking gaze in his friend’s iris’. He can feel love bouncing off the tiles.

“Jake,” he murmurs, warning him. “Don’t.”

“Heeseung-”

“No.” Heeseung shakes his head, his hand tightening briefly before he lets go. “Not tonight.”

Jaeyun’s jaw clenches. “You don’t get it.”

Heeseung’s eyes flicker toward the doorway where you just disappeared, then back to Jaeyun, something knowing and sad in them.

“I do,” he says. “That’s the problem.”

Heeseung knows better than anyone the connection you both have. It’s all consuming and the kind people go to war for. That kind of love is dangerous, especially in this environment.

Jaeyun sucks in a breath, his fingers tugging at his already-messy hair. His body is still warm from where you touched him, from where he held you, and he hates how much he still feels you even when you’re no longer in the room.

Heeseung watches him carefully before sighing, rubbing a hand over his face.

“She’s here because of Eunseo,” Heeseung says. “Not you. Not…this.” He gestures vaguely between Jaeyun and the empty space where you stood just moments ago. “She’s not part of your life anymore, Jake. She hasn’t been for a long time.”

Jaeyun looks away, swallowing the lump in his throat. “You think I don’t know that?”

Heeseung doesn’t answer.

For a long moment, neither of them say anything. The moment envelopes them thick in the air. How the fuck did all of you end up in this situation?

Then, Heeseung sighs again, softer this time. “Come on,” he says, voice gentler. “You should get some sleep. Back to your fiance.” His eyes are stern albeit understanding.

Jaeyun lets out a humourless chuckle at the not-so-subtle reminder. “Yeah. Sure.”

Despite his need to see you, to keep talking this out with you - to kiss you - he retreats, ready to fall back into bed. But sleep is the last thing he’s going to get tonight.

---

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