sonieeslov

[sonieeslov]

Someone like you

summary: Geum Seongje can't remember when he stopped distinguishing memories from reality. Maybe it was last night, a week ago or since the day you left.

pairing: Geum Seongje x fem!reader.

genre: established relationship / angst / hurt/comfort / emotional / depressive / nostalgic / melancholy.

tw: su!c!de no explicit, grief, mental health themes, isolation, implied smoking, implied dissociation.

Seongje no longer smokes.

He gave it up the day you left, not for his health, not for a promise. He just didn't know what to do with his hands again if you weren't there to take it from his lips, to frown and tell him:

"Someday smoking so hard will kill you."

Days like these I wish it would, to still be here, without you, was crueler than death.

Since you left everything became an echo.

The sound of the water in the bathroom, the way he now only hears his own footsteps in the early morning, or how the freezer door closes by itself. The laughter of others on the street, nothing sounds like you, but everything reminds him of you.

At his apartment there is still the pink mug he gave you. He has never moved it, sometimes he runs his finger over it, as if touching it was touching you.

He does not allow them to see him, he's the same. He walks the same, wears the same, his voice still has the same indifferent tone. But if someone looks closely into his eyes, that person will realize that something has gone out inside him.

Geum Seongje doesn't allow himself to cry in front of anyone. But with you, during the nights, he does.

He cries like he didn't cry when he was told that you didn't wake up.

Like he didn't cry in front of the white coffin.

Like he didn't cry when everyone hugged him as if that was enough to comfort him.

────

That's where he takes refuge. In the orange hours. When the light comes through the window and the air smells of you.

That afternoon was no different from the others until the wind brought back a bitter memory, that melody he pretended to hate and even turned down the volume just to annoy you, but he really loved listening to it next to you.

It wasn't a coincidence. It was punishment. The sound bounced from some car in traffic filtering through the noises of the city. At first he thought it was an invention of his tired mind.

But no.

He heard it. And it broke him.

Not with force. Not violently. It breaks it slowly, like a crack that gives way after having endured too much.

And then come the images.

You laughing with your arms outstretched, asking him to take a picture of you anywhere, in an empty park, at the bus station, next to a garbage bag in the middle of the street, wet from the rain or sitting on an old sidewalk.

-Take a picture of me! Look, like this… already? Another one! This time with his arms up… Come on, Seongje!

And he, with his face of mock annoyance, lifted the phone as if it was weighing him down.

-What do you want so many pictures for, mmh? as he pressed the shutter.

-To remember this moment later, let's take a picture together Seongie!

-Aish, again with that ridiculous nickname? Besides I don't need pictures, I remember everything in my mind.

Liar.

Today I would give anything for just one picture where your face is close to his. One where he could touch with his eyes what he can no longer touch with his hands.

Always pretending he didn't like taking pictures of you, but the truth is he loved it.

He loved how you run to him after every photo to ask to see it, and how your eyes sparkled when you approved it.

Now all of that lives in his gallery. Thousands of pictures of you. Doing anything. Anywhere.

But it's too late.

Your name doesn't answer. Your laughter doesn't ring.

You were always everything he was not. And that drove him crazy, it fascinated him, it broke him down.

Seongje never admits such things easily. But now that you're gone, he understands. He feels it in his bones. In everything, you're what is missing

Details come without warning, without logic. Sometimes in the middle of nowhere. Sometimes just before falling asleep. As if your voice, even though it's gone, knows when to come in and shake her soul.

There are memories so small that they hurt more than the big ones.

There are things Seongje didn't notice while they were happening.

Or maybe he did, but he let them pass. Like someone who looks out the window without noticing what is beyond the glass. Not because he didn't care, but because he thought you would always be there.

Like that habit of yours of cleaning his glasses every night.

He would leave them on the nightstand, almost carelessly, and you would wait for him to fall asleep, at the slightest flicker of silence, pick up the glasses with your little fingers and wipe them with the hem of your shirt or the corner of the sheet.

And then, there were the cigarettes.

You would take the pack from his coat, from his drawer, from the table… and with great precision you would throw away two cigarettes a day, or sometimes three, When I made you too angry

Once, he went so far as to count ten, when he swore there were twelve left. And you just shrugged, pretending not to know anything.

-I swear these evaporate. -Maybe they're learning to run away from you.

Or acts as simple as stroking his hair when he's asleep, because that's the only way he'll let you.

Sometimes you pretended not to hear him when he cried while taking a shower. But you remained silent, waiting for him.

Seongje, the one who thought he was so invincible, so whole, so incapable of showing weakness, now cries like a child whose future has been ripped away from him.

Because you were his future.

Everything smells of memory. To what was. Of what will no longer be.

Somewhere in the corner of the room is your photo, one of many he took of you. One of those where you are looking away, your hair blown by the wind, smiling as if life were lighter with you in it.

Sometimes he wonders if he is dreaming you, or if you are dreaming about him from somewhere. Maybe you're fine. Maybe you're at peace. Maybe you're in that other world where there are no ambulances or calls in the wee hours of the morning.

And he’s still here. Counting the days in reverse. Silently hoping that one of these sunsets will take him to you.

There are still days when he pretends it doesn't hurt. Even when everything absolutely everything screams your name in his head.

The greatest love isn't screamed, it's held. And you held him.

Autor’s note

Brooo I almost cried writing this shit. That last part? Literally wrecked me. I guess music always hits different when I’m writing. This time it was “BAILE INoLVIDABLE” and my brain just went..

This one shot was tough as hell to write, not gonna lie. Like, trying to keep the same exact feelings from Spanish and put them into English? Lowkey impossible. But I tried my best

[sonieeslov]

Unknown

summary: You proposed it. A meeting, no feelings, no promises, just longing disguised as chance. The first mistake was with guilt, the second was with cynicism, the third no longer hurts.

pairing: Na Baek-jin x fem!reader x Geum Seong-je

genre: angst / nsfw / light smut

tw: Infidelity, betrayal, offensive language, lovers.

Your toothbrush was next to his.

Your clothes were still taking up half the closet.

Everything in that apartment says you still belong there, but there are nights when the body doesn't obey the heart.

No one prepared you for the day that living next to Baekjin would become a sense of feeling like a guest in your own home.

He never stopped loving you, it wasn't a kiss that failed, nor a fight that broke you. It was the silence, the absence of him when you needed him most. It was precise, constant and predictable until it hurt.

"Don't wait for me for dinner, I'll be late."

"I'm late today"

"Don't wait up for me"

And yet, you still did it. You waited up for him, waited for him to turn around to see you in bed, to touch you or at least hold you. He never noticed when you cried behind his back even when you were under the same sheets.

He didn't, not out of cruelty but because he thought he was complying:

He was complying with working,

With not leaving,

With telling you "I love you" like signing a document.

And you, you began to feel what it was like to be invisible. Present but not noticed.

Loved, maybe, but not wanted.

────

Of all the people you could have chosen, it had to be him, his shadow, his ally. Seongje.

It was a silly moment, a conversation where you felt comfortable, it was unfeigned laughter, his hand touched yours too long and you... you didn't stop him. Not because you didn't love Baekjin but because you no longer knew if he still loved you or just had you on a whim.

Baekjin never invades your space, he never asks too many questions, he never argues with you, he never demands anything from you. There are days when that comforts you but there are others when you wish he would.

His way of loving was controlled, measured.

But he never makes you tremble.

With Seongje there are no routines but he would light your skin on fire with every touch.

Baekjin takes you carefully, gently, he has always been gentle. Seongje is the shit that makes you lose your mind, it's the heat that wraps your body so fucking well.

He's not careful, he doesn't offer you security. You didn't want to want him but with him you felt alive, you breathed different, deeper faster, kissing him was a free fall to the cliff and even though you knew that, still, you always wanted to fall.

His lips on your neck knew where to bite, his hands on your waist with that way of squeezing you as if you owed him something, as if you were an unpaid debt. He's the guy who pushes you against the wall with eyes alight with desire, he's disorganized but still always in control.

Baekjin is honey.

Seongje is fucking hell.

You could be with Baekjin right now, you could be looking into his eyes but still your mind always went back to the same place, it was always there, thinking about Seongje.

And that fucks you up.

────

9:43 pm

The cell phone screen flickers, it doesn't vibrate, it doesn't ring, it just glows. As if it knows exactly when to pop into your head.

Unknown number.

You know who it is. Or so you think.

Maybe it wasn't unusual, Seongje was texting unknown numbers more than usual, always getting some new cell phone better than the old one.

Unknown number

➤ "Let's meet today."

➤ (Location sent.📍)

➤ "Room 47. If you come."

You smile at the text, it doesn't take too long to answer. Too fast for your liking.

Tonight Baekjin isn't home, like many others. Tonight you weren't his, or so you thought. You didn't know it yet, but you were going straight to your sentence.

────

The hotel is unpretentious, the wind blows hard even making you shiver, your coat sticks to your body like an ill-fitting excuse.

The elevator rises.

So do your nerves. Floor 9 is where it stops.

In front of the door, the silence is so heavy you can hear the throbbing under your collarbone.

You swipe the card.

The door opens.

And he's there.

Sitting on the edge of the bed when you walk in. His back slightly hunched, elbows resting on his knees, eyes glued to the floor as if he was counting every second before you showed up. And when he finally looked up, you knew it was over before it even began.

-I'm so glad you're here, I was getting desperate.

You can't even blink.

He comes closer. He grabs your face. He kisses you.

Deep. Slow. Lustful. Humiliating.

Bites your lip, just enough to hurt. Enough to bleed.

Your tears start to fall without you calling for them.

-What's wrong? Why are you crying? -He says, in a voice that is no longer his.- Isn't this what you wanted?

Your hand squeezes the handle of your purse making your knuckles white, your fingernails are buried in the palm of your hand, so deep you feel it burn.

His hands are no longer on your face.

There is no kiss anymore.

Only distance.

It wasn't his face that told you. It was his silence.

The way he clenched his jaw and the way he smiled humorlessly.

And then you saw it. His hand.

Outstretched towards you. With something shiny between his fingers.

-This I found in Seongje's bathroom.

You don't look at it right away because you know what it is. Because you looked for it weeks ago, and because he shouldn't have it.

An earring. Yours.

The smallest, the most discreet. The one you swore you'd lost in bed, under the couch, anywhere... but there.

And Baekjin drops it right in front of your shoes. You can only look down, you don't have the courage to face him because you knew this was already lost anyway, everything was against you.

You open your mouth, but he raises a hand.

He's not even looking at you anymore.

He's looking down at the ground, as if he needs to get himself in order so he doesn't break.

That's where you feel it.

Where you understand him. He knows everything.

-Do you want to keep lying?

His voice is low. Serene.

The blow of those words bursts your stomach. Your body tenses, your throat wants to say something. Anything. But it doesn't happen.

-Let's at least have the courtesy to finish this without pretending.

You try to speak.

Your voice is barely a broken sigh.

-Baekjin... listen..

-I have nothing to listen, everything is already clear.

He interrupts you.

He doesn't raise his tone.

But you feel the slap anyway.

-You went to bed with him in the same clothes you sleep with me.

Your skin bristles.

Not from cold.

Out of shame.

Out of guilt.

Out of fear.

-For weeks I hugged you while thinking, did you shower after being with him or did you come straight home?

Your face breaks down.

You cry.

But it's late.

-How many times was it? -Did you do it in our bed, too? In his car? Where else?

-I wanted to see you walk into this room with the same face you walk in with when you're with him.

Every question is a knife.

But Baekjin doesn't need you to answer.

He is stabbing you without touching you.

-I tried to understand, tried to blame myself. I said to myself, "Maybe I'm not making her happy. Maybe I'm boring. Maybe she needs something I don't have." And Seongje is the perfect dose, right?

You don't answer.

Your soul is already shattered into a thousand crystals.

He sees you... like you're someone he's never met.

He stands up and just walks until he is in front of you.

On his ring finger was still the ring you both shared, the one you once gave each other as a silent promise.

-Do you remember this? -he says, taking off his ring.

You don't answer.

-I do, only this isn't worth anything anymore.

He sighs.

But it's not tiredness.

It's disgust.

-This doesn't even break me, this disappoints me... and that's worse. That you did it with him, with someone I know.

-You must be too fucked up to think I'm stupid and would never notice you were fucking him.

He takes a step towards you, just one, just enough to take your hand one last time. His fingers brush yours with that same tenderness that was once your refuge.

Into your hand he drops his ring, and you don't move, you cannot.

He gets close enough that you can even feel the warmth of his breath, that warmth is no longer comfort but punishment.

-I don't know if you were careless enough or just wanted this to be over already.

Her tone is so serene that it hurts more than if she were screaming.

-But this...this was all I needed.

To stop doubting me...

And start doubting you.

He doesn't wait for an answer.

He doesn't look for apologies.

It was enough to speak a truth, cold, cruel and inevitable for all this to end, leaving you with a ring in your hand that now outweighs all your guilt.

Autor’s note

This really popped into my mind after listening to a song. Is it confusing? I hope not.

I'm considering putting a warning that says "English is not my first language" at the beginning of all chapters haha :]

[sonieeslov]

Unseen by choice

summary: that small act keeps echoing in his mind because for the first time, someone truly saw him, and that weighs heavier than any insult ever could.

pairing: Han Su-gang x fem!reader

genre: angst / slice of life

tw: public humiliation, bullying, gaslighting?, social exclusion, offensive language

The midday sun filters through the curtains making a soft shower of golden sparkles across the desks and reflecting the best hidden corners in the lighter shades. It is an ordinary day, at least in appearance. Laughter erupts in the hallways like a distant taunt. They remind you that you are there. That you are part of it all, though not quite.

Today is Han Su-gang's birthday. You don't need someone to tell you. His desk screams it.

Balloons tied with thick ribbons, a still-fresh strawberry cake with a half-blown-out candle, gifts with shiny wrappings reflecting exotic brands and exorbitant prices. All in order. Everything as expected.

And there, among all those luxuries, is yours.

A bottle of strawberry milk. His favorite.

There was no card. There was no name. Just the detail. It's a silent gesture, like you. Something small, almost invisible.

Maybe it was silly.

Maybe it wasn't.

- Hey hyung, what's this, Umm? -one of his friends scoffs with a high-pitched laugh, raising the bottle.- Your breakfast? -he said, in that mocking voice he used when he wanted to provoke.-

The group bursts into laughter. One of them pretends to cry, sniffs the bottle in an exaggerated way.

- Aww! Look, it's strawberry milk. Who spoils you, Su-gang?

- I can't believe you like this shit bro, do they still make this stuff?

Su-gang doesn’t laugh. Not yet. He stares at the bottle, frowning, his fingers tense against the edge of the desk. There’s a strange tightness in his jaw, something no one else seems to notice.

- Who did this? -he asks. His voice comes out rough, deeper than usual, like it’s hard to speak.-

- What does it matter? It’s cute. Look, it even has a little bun.

One of the guys picked it up. Su-gang snatched it from his hands.

And then he saw you.

The only person who knew that this stupid drink was his favorite.

────

The door slides open with a dry hum as you walk in. Outside, the rain murmurs softly against the umbrellas. Your shoes are still dripping when you reach the shelves. You take what you need: some cookies, a loaf of bread, a bottle of water. Nothing flashy. You stay on the edges of everything, as always.

And then you feel it.

A steady presence at your back.

Han Su-gang.

You don’t really know him. Just by sight. By reputation. By rumors.

Your eyes meet for a brief moment—just enough to make the air feel heavy.

You look away quickly and get in line. Su-gang stays a few steps behind. The silence between you weighs more than any unspoken word.

You go first. You take out your items one by one, placing them neatly in front of the shopkeeper. You pay with a crumpled bill, then you step aside. You don't leave the store. Instead, you crouch next to a small shelf to carefully pack everything in your canvas bag.

Su-gang stepped forward.

- Just this -he said, leaving the strawberry milk on the counter.-

He pulled out his black card dismissively, as if paying was a formality not worth his time.

- I'm sorry, young man. No card payment system today.

Su-gang frowned. He patted his pockets.

Nothing.

Not a coin.

He let out a short, annoyed sigh.

- Then forget it.

But before he could take a step, a hand laid a bill on the counter.

- I'll pay for it -said a soft voice.-

He turned, puzzled.

You look at him from your place, with no intention of approaching. You don't smile. You don't apologize. You had only done what you said. Pay.

- It's just a milk. It's all right.

You hand him the bottle as calmly as someone would close a door.

────

The sound was dry, violent.

Su-gang chair dragged backward with a screech that cut through the laughter like a knife in the wind.

No one said a word. Not even his thugs, those who used to accompany him like long shadows behind his gait. They all saw him stand, his shoulders tense and his jaw set. He walked straight towards you.

He didn't stop. He did not hesitate. But his breathing was different. Irregular.

- Are you stupid or do you just like to draw attention to yourself in the most pathetic way possible?

Everyone watched. You, you didn't answer. Maybe that's what pissed him off the most, your silence.

His voice wasn't a scream. It was something worse, it was loaded with cold venom. Controlled. Precise.

The gazes were fixed on you. Like needles. Like knives.

- Who told you you could leave shit like that on my desk?

You didn't say anything.

- You don't talk or what the fuck is wrong with you? -Fuck this is starting to make me feel sorry for you.

- It's just a gift. You don't have to keep it if you don't want to.

Su-gang cocked his head to one side. Something in his face seemed to disfigure with pent-up rage, but also with something darker: confusion. As if he didn't understand why that touched him. Why it unsettled him.

He let out a dry laugh, as if what he had just heard was a bad joke.

- Goddd… how pathetic you can be.

He throws the bottle on the ground in front of you. The liquid explodes in all directions, The bottle hit the ground right in front of you. The liquid splashed your legs, your skirt, your books. The sweet smell of strawberry mixed with the sour feeling of embarrassment.

Someone in the back row laughed. Another whispered like “how gross” “look at her face” and the laughter multiplied, nervous, shy. As if everyone knew that tomorrow could be their turn.

You didn't move. You didn't even blink.

He looked at you. And in that instant, even though everyone thought Su-gang was in control….

He was the one shaking.

He laughs without any sign of humor, his laughter etching itself into your mind, not the way you would like it to. He leans toward your ear, where he leaves only a soft whisper.

- You don't belong here, you should have known that from day one.

And then came the final blow, but it had no force:

- And stop looking at me like you expect something. You're nobody.

But even that last line sounded… broken. It wasn't what he said. It was how he said it. As if he wanted to believe it too.

A few seconds passed before you moved. You gathered your soaked books, the papers deformed by the liquid, put them away without looking at anyone. Your legs were wet, your socks stained pink. Without haste you left.

Something was left in the air.

Something that wasn't supposed to be there.

Su-gang returns to his seat, but he no longer laughs. He no longer says anything. He didn't watch you leave. Or at least he pretended to.

What fucked him up the most was:

Why didn't he feel better? Why didn't that feeling in his chest go away? Why didn't crushing you like this make him feel good?

AUTHOR'S NOTE

It's the first time I write something here, I really have no idea how it works. I hope that whoever reads it will be to their liking and above all that they have understood it with my terrible English :(

It was a bit short but I hope to improve my writing over time, jajaksks I'm sorry no one reads this part of the notes.