#i finally fixed the typo 🫣

[deangirldisease]

the way jet reacts to aang being the avatar is so Guy At A House Party Who Has A Podcast Finds Out The Girl Hes Hitting On Is A Neurosurgeon

[kookslastbutton]

Guilty Pleasures ༓ jjk, kth (m) | chapter ii

✒ Summary: Three years of being Seoul's power couple earns you nothing but a big fat divorce settlement and your face plaster on every gossip column around town. You're angry, hurt, and desperately want to move on, but worst of all? You're still in love with the man who started the whole mess, even though the most he can ever see you as is a friend. The renowned actor you've hired to be your company's new endorser seems to have a soft spot for you though. He's easy on the eyes, you'll admit, but who actually wants a divorcee like yourself? It's unrealistic really.

pairing: ex-husband ceo!jungkook x ceo!reader, actor!taehyung x ceo!reader

genre/AU: angst, smut, fluff, loverstoexesto ?, coworkers2?, unrequited love

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: oc and jk are both 30, Taehyung is 32, swearing, fighting, confrontation, tornado of emotions, mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of sexism in the media and business world, public shaming (both direct and indirect), morally grey characters, mentions of toxic relationships, mentions of abandonment issues, mentions of therapy, attempts to self-regulate but reader is pissed, mentions of self-blame though oc knows its not entirely her fault, mentions of defamation charges, JK is just 🤬 while KTH is 😇

playlist: Unkiss Me, Apologize, Hate That I Love You, etc.

a/n: Woah okay....so had I fun writing this, even though it took me a hella long time to decide whether to continue the story as a series or not 🫣 Anyway I altered the summary slightly from chapter one (and updated for consistency purposes), but it doesn't change my overall plans! As you read this chapter, I hope you will be able to see my vision (I'm nervous af! haha)! Enjoy 🥰 (edited but pls forgive me for any oversights...my typos are ridiculous)

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You’re seated in a wide sofa chair, surrounded by four blank walls, and the gentle sound of water tricking from a faux rock waterfall. Every element of the space is carefully integrated as a means to calm you. Yet it doesn't calm you in the slightest. Your hands are clammy. Muscles tense with the adrenaline spiking through your veins. It doesn’t help that you’ve been running on nothing but black coffee all week either, refusing to eat until the first promo shoot with your company’s new endorser was launched.

A natural in front of the camera, Kim Taehyung was able to speed the process up, yet it didn’t stop the massive dark circles from forming under your eyes. This morning, he'd told you they were unnoticeable but you've seen how you look in the mirror, and they're anything but unnoticeable. Still, you find his gesture to soothe sweet. Thankfully, your new partnership has been smooth sailing which is quite a blessing considering the disaster he nearly walked into.

Yes. You’re referring to that disaster in particular. When, in some desperate last-minute attempt for validation, you threw yourself into the arms of your ex-husband.

More like fixed the collar of his shirt and whoops, slid right on his dick…again.

What is wrong with you?

You’ve been asking yourself the question far too many times. You’d think being a hot-shot CEO of a million-dollar tech company would make you like titanium, resilient as finely pounded steel but no; you're just barely keeping yourself together. You regret your rash decision that day, you regret ever marrying Jeon Jungkook, and you regret ever giving in to your stupid feelings.

That’s why you’re here now, waiting in the office of your therapist’s private practice, hands restless in your lap. You’ve been seeing Melody for just over two months since your divorce was finalized, ready to move on; trying to, more like.

‘JeonX CEO Jeon Jungkook’s ex-wife compensated $1.8 billion in divorce’

‘South Korea’s Golden It couple split with ex-wife taking half the company revenue’

These are the lovely words that greet you from your phone screen.

You have the urge to grab your special red ballpoint pen from your bag and scribble out the entire paragraph, except it’s not a printed gossip magazine— it’s a newspaper column on the internet. Instead, you close out the pesky tab on your phone and reply to its sender.

Chim 🐥: can you believe this crap they’re saying about you?! It's no shit you were given a hefty divorce settlement. You brought in half the income! They’re making you look like some kind of gold digger. I swear if I ever lay my eyes on that pretty ex-husband of yours, I will end him! 😡 [sent at 5:06 pm]

Park Jimin, your childhood best friend, sends you a follow-up text when you don’t immediately reply to the news articles he forwarded over. He’s been extremely overprotective of you lately and especially pissed at how the media’s been portraying you, while Jungkook is seemingly getting a free ride. He’s always had an axe to grind with your ex-husband, to be honest, the divorce gives him only more reason to hate him.

You: Thanks for your concern Chim, but nothing they say surprises me anymore. If you don’t mind, can you stop sending these to me? [sent at 5:12 pm]

You hope your message doesn’t read as cold or dismissive. Jimin’s concern for you is a light in a dark place, but you don’t really want to be reminded of the amount of slandering articles still targeted towards you.

Gone are the days when the public saw you as a powerful woman in business, the one to watch, or the CEO of the fastest-growing startup in the last ten years. You're now simply Jeon Jungkook’s conniving ex-wife; as if you’ve merely seduced him for his money and ran when the going was good.

Of course, the whole situation is skewed to his side; half the world is in love with him after all, and that includes the few lingering reporters who've been practically salivating three feet from you at any given chance, hoping to get an exclusive “inside look”. Your marriage was a sham, you wanted to scream, a mutual business transaction.

Too bad rather than an increase in status, resources, and market share, you gained a pile of twisted, unwarranted emotions and regrets.

“I apologize for the wait Ms. __."

The door swings open as your therapist rushes into the room. She stops at her desk to retrieve last week’s session notes, then takes a seat in the chair adjacent to you with crossed legs.

“It’s okay,” you assure, straightening your posture. “I understand how crazy busy the day can get. It wasn't a long wait anyway."

Melody gives a small smile and jots a few words on her notepad. “Thank you for understanding. How are you doing this week?”

You take a deep breath. "Tired," you respond, "especially this week at work. It's like as soon as I wrap up one project, there's another jumping out from nowhere." You used to be ahead of the game. Now you're barely surviving.

"That's right," she hums. "Last week you mentioned having to attend a charity gala soon. Would you like to start there today?"

Crap, you're suddenly reminded that you have to pick up your gown by 7 pm tonight. You entertained the idea of not going to the gala at all, but that would do you no favors in the end. Given your situation, you can't skip out on such an important charity event.

"Sure," you nod. "The Winter Gala's tomorrow night, actually. It's funny how I used to look forward to it every year, being an opportunity to network and catch up with my peers. I can't say I feel the same thrill this time around."

"Because of the divorce you mean?"

"Exactly. Being the CEO of one of the largest software corporations in the world, my ex-husband's influence far exceeds my own. So whether out of loyalty or political agenda, anyone who's anyone will be on his side of the room. I'm gonna end up being that one awkward person in the corner in a far too expensive Dior gown who no one wants to dance with." You nervously chuckle out the last sentence.

Melody opens her mouth to respond, yet stops when she notices you're not quite finished.

"It'll be the first time seeing my ex-husband after months of no contact too. I guess that's what I'm looking forward to the least."

When you think about it, the most you've seen of Jungkook is his face appearing on the massive screens downtown. He's been featured in at least a dozen interviews lately, teasing a brand-new product his company's planning to release in the spring. Seems he's doing well.

"What you feel is valid Ms. __." Melody seeks to assure you. "In the past, you used to go to these events with Jungkook right? He provided you with a sense of safety, as you did for him, no doubt. I wonder if it's a lack of consistency and belonging that worries you, more than it is about seeing your ex-husband and your peers. Companionship too, of course."

"I suppose that makes sense, but it never used to be this way." Your voice raises to match your sudden argumentativeness. "I used to be very comfortable in my own skin. I used to be confident going to these events alone, long before Jungkook came into the picture."

You pause to take a breath before continuing.

"When Jungkook became CEO of his family's software company, JeonX, he was steps away from being bought out by both our competitors, so a partnership was proposed. We married at 27 as nothing more than two ambitious, rising leaders in business. Neither of us was after love or romance when our careers were at stake."

"But then that changed for you," your therapist carefully observes. "Combined, you both held the largest share of the tech market. You and Jungkook were also in an extremely intimate relationship, yet treated it as a business contract. Unfortunately, those don't always come out clean in the wash. It appears to me that while you gave him three honest years of your life, he stole those three years from you."

The words take a moment to sink in; Jungkook stole three years from you. It conflicts with what you want to believe, though from the bottom of your heart, you know she's right.

"I feel so...guilty. I hate that I fell for him, and I hate that I'm struggling this much to let him go." As you tear up, Melody hands you a tissue from the side table with an empathetic gaze. You mouth a thank you and gently dab your eyes with the soft fabric.

"I'd give yourself some grace Ms. __. But if I may ask, what about Jungkook?" she gently probes. "Do you think he feels the same?"

"No...," you say with remorse, shaking your head. "He's moved on."

Melody remains silent for as long as you need in the moments following, cautious to follow your lead. The last thing a therapist should do is rush their patient through the session, so she sits patiently and waits for your go.

"Sorry," you finally say. "We should continue."

"No need for apologies," she replies. "Take your time."

It takes a good minute or two longer of sitting in your car before you can fully compose yourself. As usual, your session with Melody was intense and insightful, but it was far too short. You're gripping the wheel with both hands when her final words of the session echo through your head: "Give yourself some grace; blaming yourself won't do any good."

Seemingly simple advice, yet tough to follow when you constantly feel responsible for the mess you're in. Yes, even though Jungkook has the bigger end of the stick, you made your share of mistakes too. You should have looked into other options when you found out your competitors were looking to buy out JeonX instead of eloping with their CEO.

Just what were you thinking __? you harshly scold yourself. You were trying to protect your company. You both were. Too bad you placed the cart in front of the horse.

Forcing yourself to take a slow, deep breath, your eyes widen in alarm when you catch the time on the clock— 6:38 pm. Fuck! The boutique that's holding your gown for tomorrow's gala is closing in twenty minutes. Without a moment to spare, you yank the seatbelt and slam your foot on the gas.

"Good evening Ms. __." A young woman, fitted in a black pencil skirt and white blouse, greets you with a faint bow as soon as you step foot into the posh boutique.

"Hello, Hana," you refer to the young lady by name with a smile. "I'm terribly sorry to be coming in this late. I came by to pick up the gown I sent in for alterations two weeks ago. The event's tomorrow and I know the shop will be closed for the day."

Knowing the exact dress you're referring to, Hana responds with a soft tone, "Please don't worry Ms. __. We have the gown ready." She disappears to the back of the shop to retrieve it.

As you wait, your mind drifts to memories of last year's gala. You had worn a vibrant, gold gown that evening, slightly risky with a low neckline. Jungkook liked it though, as he wore a matching gold vest himself. You can imagine how crazy the press went when you both set foot on the scene, arms linked and appearing to have coordinated your attire perfectly.

Every investor at the gig wanted to be your friend that night, anxiously pushing through the crowds to speak to you. One of them nearly split your dress in two, as he had accidentally stepped on your gown after one too many drinks. You recall Jungkook scolding the man before turning his full attention to you, making sure you were alright. You consider this to be the first time you truly started looking at him as your husband, a feeling of warmth blooming inside you.

How foolish you were to let that feeling grow.

You're attending the gala alone this year, without him.

Possessing no desire to call attention to yourself this year, you've chosen a rich, navy blue gown instead. It's subtle yet sophisticated. Made out of the finest silk, its silhouette is sleek and falls straight down to the floor without any extravagant frills. The neckline is simple too, paired with a tasteful open back. There are no flashy accessories or embellishments, just a straightforward, classic design. You find the gown beautifully elegant, and nowhere near as bold as your previous one.

"Here it is Ms. __," Hana chips from afar, her heels clacking against the polished floor tiles. In her hand is a generously sized garment bag, your dress flowing underneath.

"Thank you so much, Hana," you say, taking the gown from her hand. "Again, I'm sorry for my tardiness picking this up. I hope you have a wonderful night."

You leave the boutique, the sun having already set.

The Winter Gala takes place on the top floor of Seoul's most luxurious hotel, specifically in its grand ballroom. The walls are adorned with gold trim, and its floors are elegantly lined with polished black marble. Above, a magnificent glass chandelier glimmers, catching the moonlight filtering through the surrounding glass windows.

Despite being a private event, the gala attracts a whole slew of press and locals who eagerly gather on either side of the hotel's front doors, treating it as a prime spot for viewing the red carpet.

Physically, you're ready; dressed to the nines, and makeup done just right. Mentally, you're absent; secretly sipping a margarita at the end of the earth, wherever that is. The day finally comes for you to make an appearance at the Annual Winter Gala and it's clear, you're not prepared in the slightest.

Your nerves consume you as you sit in the backseat of your limousine. You protested against being dropped off at the front entrance. Hell, you hadn't even wanted to arrive in a limo. However, your PR team insisted you be seen arriving, happy to be supporting a charitable event for the eighth year in a row.

Reluctantly, you complied.

Chim 🐥: I wish I could be there with you tonight 😞 No matter what, don't let those snobs get into your head. You look stunning and you have nothing to be ashamed of! [sent at 6:23 pm]

"Thank you, love," you whisper to aloud upon reading your best friend's endearing message. Before you can craft a reply, your door is flung open, with harsh flashes of cameras blinding you. When you step out of the limo, you hear a mix of passionate cheering and interrogative remarks.

"Ms. __, could you share with us your experience of attending the gala without Jeon Jungkook by your side for the first time?"

"Ms. __, it's unexpected to see you here this year, especially considering your recent separation from your ex-husband, who is also on the guest list!"

"Ms. __, how do you plan to navigate the evening's festivities without the familiar presence of your former partner?"

Just keep walking __. If you can just get inside the building and tune out the noise, you'll be fine. You coach yourself with every step, but make little progress with the amount of discomfort only skyrocketing. Your photos are being taken, and questions barrage you from all angles. To top it off, you feel a strong migraine coming on and oh fuck— is that the devil now?

You don't have to glance back to guess the sudden increase in cheering is due to the arrival of another hot A-lister. It has to be Jungkook with a new woman by his side. You think he wouldn't bring a date to an event like this, even if she were a hire? You'd be horribly mistaken.

You fight against the urge to turn around and confirm if your suspicions are true.

"__!" a voice calls out, which you ignore.

But wait a minute.

You stop in your tracks—that's not Jungkook's voice at all; it’s far too raspy.

Peeking over your shoulder, your jaw falls open as you see Kim Taehyung steps behind you wearing a boxy grin on his face. He's dressed to the hills with a shiny maroon, Louis Vuitton suit hugging his slim waist. Quite handsome, per usual, but what is he doing here?

Taking the initiative, Taehyung strides next to you and waves to the crowd charismatically. “My movie shoot wrapped up early so I thought I’d swing by and see what all the excitement’s about,” he says.

You observe how easy it is for him to appease the crowd, a skill you’re still working to sharpen.

“Tae-” you begin.

He then turns to you and looks straight into your eyes. You shiver at from the sudden intensity.

“I got an invitation too, and the gala happens to support a cause that I find close to my heart.” His voice lowers for the next part, allowing only your ears to hear. “I also didn’t want you having to be alone this evening, __. I hope I didn’t overstep my boundaries.”

Taehyung’s words manage to coax you away from your previously frazzled state, comforting you as the chaos quiets around you.

“Thank you, Taehyung. You didn’t, don’t worry,” you reply, giving a tight-lipped smile. “It’s actually a good thing you came since you’re basically the second face of my company after all.”

“I’m happy to hear that. We’ve been working so well together recently, and I don’t want to ruin it. May I?” He offers you an arm.

“You may.” You slip your arm into his and continue towards the hotel entrance. You admit you’re glad to see him.

With Taehyung nearby, your apprehensions of the night start to subside. He’s not always beside you, slipping away to mingle often, yet his mere presence relaxes you. You haven’t even thought about Jungkook to be honest. Well, maybe a little bit.

You take a sip of the drink in your hand and casually scan the ballroom until bingo, you spot your ex-husband by the bar in the middle of half a dozen people. Figures he’s the center of attention, effortlessly tethering people to himself. Jungkook loves the spotlight, and the spotlight loves him. As you continue watching him from across the room, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions swirls within you; longing, sorrow, anger. You haven't seen him in over two months, it feels surreal.

Memories of your time together come flooding back all at once—both the good and the bad, yet mostly bad. It's strange how someone you were once so close to can suddenly feel like a stranger. You allow your gaze to linger a moment longer, curious to conclude a date is nowhere in sight. Perhaps you’re mistaken and they’ve merely slipped away for a second. You’re positive he would’ve brought someone.

Bitterly, you gulp down another sip of your drink. When you place your glass down, you nearly choke at the sight of Jungkook's dark eyes burning holes at you. You avert your gaze immediately, silently begging that he didn’t just witness you staring at him and take it as an unsolicited invitation to come over.

“So,” a provocative voice unexpectedly slides next to you. “Looks like you just traded one bachelor for the next __. I’m shocked to see you’ve shown up to our little soirée.”

Oh god, you roll your eyes, recognizing the owner of the slithery voice like the back of your hand. You do not have the stamina for this tonight.

“Kathy," you greet with the fakest, yet sweetest smile possible. "Nice seeing you again. I haven't seen you since last year. How's the baby?"

"Oh please," she scoffs. "Don't try to deflect, sweetie. We both know it's you who is of far more... intrigue. If you understand my gist."

You want to hurl at this woman's condescending tone. Nothing gets under your skin more than someone your age calling you sweetie. It's not endearing in the slightest, especially when it's Kathy Lee, Director of CommaTen. You despise each other, likely because you both hit it big in the industry at a young age. Meeting someone who reminds you so closely of yourself isn't always a blessing.

“Anyway, as I was saying," she continues, brushing her hair behind an ear. "I have quite the bone to pick with you about stealing that actor from me. Kim Taehyung was mine first, you know."

Hers? She speaks as if a person can be owned. You won't lie, you're surprised Taehyung agreed to partner with you at a time when most of Seoul's elites have turned against you. You're naive to assume that his support wouldn't backfire on his reputation. On the other hand, he's been your endorser for two months now and his following remains fully intact.

“To be frank, I didn't know the two of you were talking business at all," you respond to the accusations with composure, though burning up inside. "But of course, he's free to make his own decisions, can't he? Whatever the reason, something must have enticed him."

“You—" Offended by your insinuation that your offer was better than hers, Kathy doesn't stop what comes next. "We both know the only reason why Kim Taehyung's with you is because Jungkook left you! And you need the extra publicity, isn't that right?"

Fuck. Well, now you're really fucking embarrassed because, at that moment, everyone in the room shifts their attention your way. A pin drop could be heard in the entire ballroom since even the live band ceased their playing.

This is why you didn't want to come. Your fingers fumble with the fabric of your gown.

“Don't act like you're above me just because your company might be worth more than mine, __. We'll catch up with you soon," Kathy spits her final words before spinning around and triumphantly walking away.

Don't cry, you tell yourself. Everyone's staring at you; the press, your peers, Jungkook, and Taehyung. Don't you dare cry.

As the murmurs of conversation gradually resume around you, you force yourself to take a deep, steadying breath. Kathy's words were nothing but a feeble attempt to save her own face. Besides, what company doesn't have at least one endorser?

"Are you alright?" Taehyung's low, gentle voice catches your attention as he swiftly returns to your side, no doubt influenced after witnessing Kathy's verbal jab.

You manage a tight-lipped smile, nodding faintly as you attempt to push back the overwhelming wave of humiliation. "I will be," you reply, though the words feel hollow even to your own ears.

His gaze lingers on you for a moment longer, a silent understanding passing between you.

"I hope you don't take her words to heart, __," he mutters. "I chose to become your partner because I genuinely believe in your product. I'm selective about who I support, so please trust me when I say it wasn't because of material gain or pity."

You're on the verge of responding to his reassurance when you catch sight of your ex-husband from the corner of your eye, striding his way over to you for the first time tonight. His expression is unreadable, so you brace yourself, unsure of what to expect.

"__," he starts, his voice low but carrying an unmistakable urgency. "Can we talk?"

You and Taehyung share a quick glance before you follow Jungkook out of the ballroom, seeking privacy.

As soon as you're out of earshot, Jungkook turns to you, his features softened by a hint of concern. "Hey," he starts. "I meant to get over to you sooner but got tied up. You know how it is."

"Yeah, I know," you respond, though you'd rather he didn't come over at all, especially after being dragged into the spotlight in front of all your peers and colleagues.

The two of you share an unsettling silence before he speaks again.

"You-You look good." He allows his eyes to rake up and down your body, causing you to cross your arms in discomfort. There was a time when his gaze brought a flutter of excitement, but now, you're not so sure it brings you the same pleasure.

"I'm sorry for what happened in there," he says. "You okay?"

"What?" you repeat, your eyes wide with surprise, stunned by his unexpected apology. "Am I okay?"

Where was this concern when he handed you the divorce papers nine months ago? Or when he willingly took advantage of your vulnerability that time in your office, only to disappear afterward, as if he hadn't just torn your heart out of your chest? You clench your fists, trying to contain the rising temperature of your anger.

"Yeah, about what she said about you," he clarifies. "It was uncalled for, and I feel horrible about it." He reaches out to touch you, but you instinctively step back, as if his touch would scorch you.

"Please, don't," you sigh, a trace of weariness in your voice. "It's fine."

"I'm serious __, I can have her charged with defamation for that. It wouldn't take much!" His insistence is unwavering, and it strikes your last nerve.

"You don't need to fight my battles for me, Jungkook," you suddenly snap, voice stern. "I'm not completely helpless now that you've divorced me!"

Jungkook's expression darkens, regret flickering in his eyes. "I'm not saying you are. I'm just trying to help."

"Help?" you repeat, doubtful. "How do you think that's going to look for me in the media? Jeon Jungkook slaps another high society member with a defamation charge for ex-wife. Thanks, but no thanks. I get enough of that as is."

He sighs, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I know they've been difficult on you recentl—"

"Difficult?" you interject, your anger bubbling to the surface. "In case you haven't noticed my face is on every gossip magazine, billboard, press release, and anything else they can use to scorn me with. It's unbearable, especially since I still have a business to run."

Jungkook winces, clearly stung by your words. "Then let me help. I'll get them removed for you. I still care about you, __."

You scoff. "You care about me? Is that why you made me sign our divorce papers three months after you found out I wanted more than a fake marriage?"

His jaw clenches, gaze dropping to the floor guiltily. "It's not like that, __. I'm not trying to be an avoidant asshole. I want you to-"

"Find someone else. Yeah, I got it," you mutter bitterly, feeling a fresh wave of hurt wash over you.

"I'm sorry, __. I am."

You stare at him, torn between resentment and a lingering ache for the connection you once shared. Now, he's apologizing?

"So am I," you say, slowly backing away from him. "You don't have to do anything, Jungkook. I'm fine."

You then turn on your heels to return to the ballroom where Taehyung still waits for you, leaving your ex-husband standing in the hallway, alone.

a/n: A much-needed confrontation between oc and jk eh? But... *laughs evilly*..this is not the end...LMK what you think! 🤔🤍

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side note: I tried tagging readers in comments but most of them didn't go through, so i'm sorry about the clutter here...😬

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

[the-ninjago-historian]

Some things that will be included in mine and my brothers Ninjago AU, Ninjago Remastered!🥷🐉🔥💦❄️⚡

I don't want to spoil a whole lot but Here's some highlights!

Good Garmadad comes back! They fix him sometimes after Crystalized. (During my special fan season/special. I haven't decided which one yet.)

Cole x Vania is canon! No regrets! I love them together!

Morro get saved too!

And so does Echo! (I sure do like saving characters. Lol!)

Jay's straps on his outfit are for his scoliosis back brace! My and brother heard about someone suggesting this headcannon. We thought it was cool, so we added it!

That some of the best stuff I have right now. (Also, none of this final. It's subject to change.) More later!😁 (EDIT: I just fixed a huge typo. Oops.🫣)

[hangmanbrainrot]

Payback RQ: He comes home from work in the middle of the night and tries not to wake you, and fails because someone that tall can’t be anything but clumsy at 2am.

this took me 2 weeks because i suck but here it is!! i hope it is everything you imagined. 🫣

warnings: swearing, technically home invasion implication, but that doesn't happen i assure you, umm marriage!, reuben is nicknamed ben at some points in this fic, kinda fluffy in the beginning, maybe this is a lil funny? maybe sierra successfully does a haha? let me know. not beta'd because sierra is lazy and has a headache. ignore the typos (if there are any?) if you love me. lots of self-referential third person here, ok. shut up sierra.

word count: 945

pairing: reuben "payback" fitch x reader

homecoming

In preparation for Reuben returning from his special detachment, you’d done just about everything you could think of to make sure he felt welcome back home. 

It started at the grocery store. You made sure to buy his favorite cereal, not the heart-healthy business he told everyone was his favorite. No, you decided to indulge his love for cocoa pebbles. Mostly because you knew he’d never ask for them or purchase them for himself. When you’d arrived at the front of the line, the cashier greeted you with a big smile, and carried on polite conversation. She tapped the box before scanning the item to place it into the bag. It was your last grocery item on the conveyor belt.

“I love these,” she made eye contact with you in a way that was lingering, a clear in for a conversation you’d only been passively interested in. It wasn’t the cashier’s fault that you were exhausted after a day of running errands. 

“Oh, I’ve actually never had them, but my husband raves about them from when he was a kid.” The thought alone put a smile on your face, and the action was a reminder of just who and what all of this was for. Your partner would be home soon, and nothing else really mattered much beyond that. 

So, of course, when you’d received a text later that night that his flight was canceled, you’d pouted into a pint of ice cream, and curled up on the couch with your favorite TV show alone. 

Sorry, baby. 🙁 I’ll let you know when I get another flight. Probably tomorrow. I love you

I know. Miss you. Cant wait. I love you too.

And then 10 PM stretched into 11, 11 into midnight, and midnight into 1 AM before you finally called it quits. You knew that, short of flying the plane himself, there was nothing he could really do. No use exhausting yourself for work tomorrow even more than you already would be, with the disappointment of falling asleep yet another night without your partner at your side weighing heavily on your chest while you tried to drift off. You slinked off to bed and retreated under the covers. 5 or so hours or sleep was better than none.

So, when your eyes opened at 2:51 AM, you immediately groaned. Usually, your body let you get a solid 3 hours in before waking you up. But then you heard the very distinct sound of someone bumping into the console table by the front door. It stuck out a little too far, so if you didn’t give yourself a lot of grace, coming in the front door, you’d barely just catch your knee on the corner of it — just enough to hurt. Your eyes met the clock again. 2:52 AM. While Ben had taken you through the many different ways to be prepared for an intruder while he was away, you never thought you’d actually have to use any of it. He was always the muscle of your relationship. He was probably the most easygoing person you knew, except when it came to you. From the moment he’d committed to being your spouse, he was all about you — in all the right ways. Knew how to support you without smothering or hovering, encouraged you to follow your dreams and pursue your career. And taught you how to disarm an intruder, with only your bare hands and… the curtain rod from the corner. Fixing it was a job for your husband, considering he was height and all long limbs.

Shaky fingers curled around the curtain rod, while you did your best Mission Impossible sneak down the stairs, to find the culprit who’d disturbed your sleep and your peace.

“You take whatever you have and you go now, and I won’t call the police,” you shouted as you inched down the stairs, trying to will confidence into your voice. “I haven’t even seen you yet, so it’s perfect. You’ll only get caught if you try to get greedy.”

You heard swearing — and you were certain that voice sounded familiar. Curtain rod grasped tighter, you and your curiosity practically leapt down the remainder of the stairs.

“Baby, what in the hell are you doing?” Your husband’s voice hit your ears and your shoulders slumped almost immediately. 

“Me?! What the hell are you doing, sneaking in the house?!”

“I was trying to s — never mind, can you put your weapon down?”

Brows furrowed, you lowered the curtain rod down by your side, before reaching out to lean it up against the nearest wall. One of your hands came up to rub at your eyes, before you folded your arms over your chest. 

Ben, never one to miss an opportunity for a wisecrack, quipped easily: “Aw, there’s that scowl I’ve missed so much. I thought I’d have to wait until tomorrow morning.”

Before you could fire back, he’d wrapped you up in his arms and tugged you into his chest. Jet fuel and citrus wafted up to your senses. Even as you settled into his embrace, you retorted, “Oh, don’t you even start. You scared me. I thought you weren’t getting in until tomorrow.”

“So, naturally, the next logical conclusion is that someone with a key was breaking into our home, hm?” You could hear the smile on Reuben’s lips when he spoke, a good-natured chuckle passing through them shortly thereafter.

“Shut up, before I start losing that loving feeling and you’ve barely been here five minutes.”

“I missed you too, tough guy,” he muttered, before ducking his head to press a kiss to the top of your own. 

[onewmin]

the perfume on the shelf. pt. 4 | bangchan

Pairings: Bang Chan x Fem!reader, Kim Yugyeom x Fem!reader

Summary: Falling in love with your best friend was never a part of the plan. So you end it up. But does he want to put a stop to it, too?

Warnings: AU, descriptions of blood and gore, profanity, mental issues, angst, clichés, typos, the reader’s confused about everything. Everything's described from the reader's pov, so if you don't get something or the narration seems blurred - that's the purpose lol

Author’s note: it took me long to finish this part, idk why. The way the story develops may seem too slow, but that's the goal, actually. And I'm a fan of slow narration, so it is what it is. Next part will be more action-packed, I swear 🫣 Hope you enjoy!! tell me what you think <3

P.S. I’m still taking requests for the taglist, so if you want to be on it, hmu 😙

Part 3 | Part 5

Disclaimer: the names and appearances of real people are used for inspiration and writing purposes only. I do not claim anything, everything belongs to its owners.

Having said rushed goodbyes to Yugyeom, you flew out of the coffee shop and sprinted in the direction of the hospital. The voice in the back of your head squeaked, scolding you for leaving him in such a manner, but you didn’t really care. He woke up. He was okay.

Despite being out of breath and feeling pain in your legs, you kept on running, as if you had to bolt from the police. Another elevator ride — shit, you should have just taken the stairs — and you were the first one to get out the second it stopped at the necessary floor.

Chan’s parents and Minho weren’t there; you assumed, in the quick observation of the hall, they had either been in the hospital room with him or with the doctor. Whatever.

You stopped only at the room’s entrance, catching your breath. Through a small glass window in the door, you saw Chan, sitting on his bed with the phone in his hands. Alone.

Breathe in, breathe out. You tried to briefly fix your hair, in a desperate attempt to make it less messy from the running. Taking another deep breath, you pushed the door, making your presence visible to him too.

You closed the door and just stood there, gawking at him. He raised his eyes at you, slowly. Holding this eye-contact, your palms started sweating, and you automatically wiped them on your pants, every small action of yours followed by Chan’s gaze.

He hissed, standing up; pressing his hand to his left side, Chan didn’t break the eye contact, staring at you as if he’d been trying to catch every meticulous detail of your face.

Your eyes welled up at the sight of him, physically broken because of you. The guilt that had risen on the day of the accident was the only feeling you didn’t suppress; to be honest, you weren’t able to get rid of her. She was eating you alive, mouth full of blood from your torn apart heart, agonizing you with the blame you had put on yourself. If you hadn’t sent those texts, he wouldn’t have got into the accident. If you had waited for one more day, maybe, just maybe, he would have been okay now.

But he was there. Bandages on his head, bandages on his hands, but he was there. Bruised, broken but alive. Conscious.

The breath was knocked out of your lungs during the next few steps you made. Chan was standing there, still, waiting; your height difference was nothing — just your nose slightly brushing the bridge of his — and your hands cupped his cheeks cautiously. You were so scared to bring him more pain that every move of your body had to be calculated.

Following his gaze, that darted from your eyes to lips, you took a final leap before your jump off the cliff’s edge, a jump you’d be making to finally let your feelings intertwine with his. You were in love with each other, and you both knew it. So you were jumping not into an abyss, you were getting ready to jump into a lake, with warm water, opal sky above it. You were jumping into your personal heaven.

Your mouths collided messily; the salty tears mixing up with Chan’s taste. He might have had something sweet to eat before, so it was even more addictive. You moved your lips carefully, afraid to scare him away. Palms pressed to his cheeks, you felt a hand on your waist. He responded to a kiss, slowly pecking your lips before taking control. His lips were chapped, and you could touch every small bite he’d made just by moving your lips.

Kissing Chan had always been something you craved, craved even more than sex. The first kiss with him was like a first shot of tequila, warmness spreading inside your chest, intoxicating taste pushing you to the brink of dizziness, always desiring and taking more. But this time… It was relieving, needy; it was as if you’d been lying amidst a desert, suffering from drought for years before a teary, salty rain blessed you with another day. You were going to live.

You broke the kiss, fogged up glasses forbidding to see Chan’s face without a blur. He was looking at you, and that was enough.

“I thought I lost you”, you whispered in his lips, hands still on his cheeks. A half-smile from him, a smile you missed so much, a smile that was a drop of water in your endless thirst.

Chan leaned in, his lips brushing over yours; and you were there, parting your lips to taste him again, to kiss him at any possible moment, whenever he felt like it.

But before you could drown in him yet again, Chan pulled away, smile fading.

“Don’t”. His hands were on yours, removing them softly.

“Sorry”, you sniffed, taking your glasses off and wiping them with the hem of your shirt. “You can’t move a lot, and this… This is too much for someone, who…”.

“No”. He sat back down on the bed, eyes scanning you. “Don’t ever do that again”.

What? “What?”

A touch on your shoulder, the one you’d become familiar with lately, slowly pushed you back, tugging, as if he was making you leave the room.

“No”, you brushed Minho’s hand off. “What are you saying?”

Only then you noticed the bore he stared at you with, the exhaustion in his sighs signaling he was already done with the conversation.

Dumbfounded, you stood there, gawking at him and thinking your ears were lying to you. He could not have said that, right? Not right after you two kissed, no. Right?

Lee Know finally managed to take you from the room to the hall, closing the door behind him. Taking you by the hand, he dragged you in the direction of the hospital cafeteria. He pulled the chair, sat you down and ferociously plopped oppositely.

“I have no answers”, he uttered, fingers tapping on the table surface.

“What-“

“No answers”. He repeated. “He’s been like that since the moment he woke up. Grumpy, angry. Made his mom cry. Little shit”, he mumbled.

“I don’t understand, he, uh…” You were staring at your hands, fingers fiddling the ring Chan once gave you. “He-“

“Yeah, I saw”. Minho leaned back on the chair. “He didn’t wake up when I texted you. It happened two hours earlier”.

You raised your eyes, gazing at him. What the fuck?

“One of the things he ‘ordered’ me to do was not to text you. Said he didn’t want to see you”.

“But… But he kissed me back”, you uttered.

“Look”, Lee Know grabbed your hands. “I don’t know what’s going on in his head, really. But I swear”, he squeezed your palms in his, “we’ll find out. He stresses me out too”.

“Did he say… Was he like that to you?”

“Oh yeah”, he huffed. “Said I was too annoying, ‘cause I asked if he was okay. Oh, and said that I worry too much”. Minho leaned back on his chair again. “Can’t believe this asshole”.

“What about his parents?”

“Even a better story here”. Minho turned his head to look out of the window. “Told they could go back to their trip, said he doesn’t need them here”.

“Is he?..”

“What? Got his brain damaged too much? I have no fucking clue”, an exhausted sigh left his mouth. “Shit, sorry, I know I’m not supposed to talk like that, but.. I don’t know. It’s not him”.

You just sat there, gaze focused on the trees outside the building. The wind was blowing through the leaves, the sky had become grey, foretelling the rain in the next few moments.

You did take the leap to jump off the cliff’s edge, however, you didn’t get into the warm water with the opal sky above it; it was a mirage, something you wished to see. In reality, the jump turned into a falling, and your desperate attempts to grab at something didn’t prevent the fatality that expected you. You were falling into the abyss, again. This time, though, you felt like you wouldn’t come back.

“He said something..”, Minho mumbled. “I didn’t pay attention to it at first, but now..”

Your response was to keep looking out of the window.

“He said he was tired of everything. Like it was too much.”

“Are you making this up now just to make me feel better?”

Lee Know huffed, but didn’t answer. You, on the other hand, had no fucking idea what was going on.

“I gotta go”, you stood up, taking the bag in your hands. “I’ll be late to work”.

As you turned around and started walking away, Minho suddenly grabbed you by the hand, forcing you to stop.

“Come at visiting hours later”, he said quietly. “I’ll try to talk to him”. You nodded and left.

Walking out of the hospital, cold raindrops touched your hair. It was supposed to be summer rain, you thought. Now it was cold, sunless and absolutely stupid. Stupid ‘cause you didn’t take an umbrella.

Everything was a blur: your subway ride, a walk to the office, pointy-looking colleagues. The only things echoing in your ears were the stomps you made. As you sat down in front of the computer, all of the sounds disappeared. It was just that annoying shit he said in your head now.

“Don’t ever do that again”.

The fuck, Chan? What the actual fuck?

“Hey”, a cooing voice from outside your head asked. “Are you alright?”

Nodding absentmindedly, you clicked on the file you’d gotten earlier. Just do your job, you can do it automatically. You don’t need to think.

But you were still falling. Falling into the pit, into the abyss; and you had no idea what was there, except for the black, viscous quagmire. A long way down, indeed, as you had still not fallen. You wished you had, though — it would’ve been easier to… To what, actually? What? You were absolutely oblivious to what had happened. What had possessed Chan’s head so that he would change his mind, doing a full 180?

“He’s in love with you”

“Don’t ever do that again”.

A bloody mess inside your head, the Guilt, who was following you around like a shadow, was losing her position, losing her face to… Nothing. There wasn’t anything, but the mixture of every other emotion you could have had. Pain, hurt, anger, confusion, love, pity — you name it.

“Are you okay?” A soft touch on your shoulder — Eunjoo and her questions again. “You have been sitting like that for the past five minutes”.

‘Like that’ was with your hands covering your face, water from the wet hair dripping on the desk.

“I need to use the bathroom”, the urge to run away was overwhelming — for some reason, you couldn’t bear the thought of Eunjoo (or anyone else, for god’s sake) comforting you. It just… Wasn’t you. You never cried or shared your intimate problems with Eunjoo, even though she was you best and only friend, besides Chan. And if the idea of sharing with him, who you’d known for years, was your personal hell — what to say about Eunjoo? It wasn’t like you didn’t trust her; you were just used to friends devaluing your feelings, so while making new ones, you tended to keep your mouth shut.

Who’s interested in my problems anyway? One step forward, two steps back, your therapist stated. You didn’t disagree.

You stood in front of the mirror, hands pressed into the marble surface of the sink; some of the girls, who worked in the building, were chatting in the background. Their high voices and melodic laughs reminded you of birds chirping, but that was another nonsense you used to distract yourself with. The way those girls laughed wasn’t and never would be your main concern. At least, it wasn’t one now.

But it weren’t you if you didn’t think about anything but the fucking elephant in the room.

“Hey”. Eunjoo was there, again: hands on you shoulders, and a concerned look in her eyes, which you could see through the reflection in the mirror. “What happened?”

You shook your head, looking at the sink again, trying to hold back tears. Shit, no matter how much therapy you’d got, showing your emotions to those who cared was still the hardest thing to do.

“Did something happen to Chan?”

Ah shit. Her saying his name broke you eventually. Looking at Eunjoo through the mirror, you shook your head again, tears falling down your face.

“Oh, honey”. She pulled you in, wrapping her hands around your shoulders. Her head on yours, and you collapsed in her arms, tears muffled by her shoulder. She was the first girl friend of yours that saw this side of you. Broken, tired, confused. Everything and all it once.

Your cries eventually fade away, leaving you resting your forehead on Eunjoo’s shoulder and arms wrapped around her waist. You could’ve stayed there until you calmed down, but the smell of her perfume was too suffocating for you to keep on inhaling.

“Oh, you shirt”, you said quietly. “I’m sorry”.

“Do not be”, Eunjoo smiled, hands rushing to cup your cheeks. “I will wear it proudly, because I found out something about my best friend today”.

“What’s that?”

Eunjoo pressed her forehead to yours. “She is not a robot. She is actually a human, who can cry”.

You huffed and smacked her shoulder, turning the water on to make your face look less red from crying. “You’re not funny, you know that?” You mumbled.

“I am very funny. Hilarious, some people say”. She held your hair in a ponytail so that it wouldn’t get wet; before Eunjoo you used to be that friend, who held the hair, made sure everyone got home safely and didn’t get into trouble. Eunjoo was the one to make sure you were okay, too. And in that exact moment, with the two of you standing in the office’s bathroom, Eunjoo giving you paper towels and still keeping her hand on your shoulder — in that moment you realized how much of a great friend she was. It almost made you cry again.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You gave her a half-smile. “I’ll tell you at lunch break. Okay?”

After the break, Eunjoo’s gasps, swearings at Chan and advice you felt a bit better. Or worse. Shit, you had no clue what you felt.

“He’s still traumatized from the accident”. Eunjoo said. “Also, I’ve heard that people wha have been in coma have these… weird reactions to things. It is like they have been on the verge of life and death and woke up with different values”.

You kept on chewing on your carrot, nodding to Eunjoo’s words. You didn’t believe in supernatural, or people seeing god while being in coma — but was there another way to explain his behavior?

“Or maybe he is just confused”. She stated, sipping on her coffee. “Imagine you just woke up from an accident and someone is kissing you already”.

“It’s not like he didn’t kiss me back”, you uttered.

“Maybe it was a reflex?”

You let out an annoyed sigh, leaning back on the chair. “Do you have such a reflex, Eunjoo? Do you kiss people back when they kiss you?”

“I meant”, she continued quietly. “A reflex to you. To your actions”.

“Yeah, sure. I’d rather believe he’d met god and he told him to celibate to get into heaven, and that’s why he’s like that”.

Eunjoo sighed. “Has it occurred to you that maybe he really wants to put an end to it?”

You let out a nervous laughter in response to her words. The worst outcome that could be, to be honest. Yes, you were the one to text him, the one who wanted to stop seeing each other. But it wasn’t because you didn’t love him — it was because you loved him too much to take it anymore. And what Minho said…

Yeah, you agreed that Chan was confused. Because, for what other reason would he say such things to you? He had never, ever, been rude to you, and now what? He decided to become an asshole all of a sudden? Didn’t seem like him.

Sitting in front of your computer, you absentmindedly twisted the necklace in your fingers. Your brain was so tired of thinking about Chan that you started wondering how different things could be if you just accepted Yugyeom’s offer many years ago. If you had moved to New York to him, continued your writing career there, lived in a tiny shared apartment… If you had done that, who knows, maybe you’d be much happier now. There would be no Chan, no pain he caused you, and no harm done to him. Maybe the two of you wouldn’t even be friends. Maybe.

Your thoughts darted from the aching images of that unrealistic past you could’ve had with Yugyeom to the dark present you shared with Chan. What your future held was a secret, sealed so carefully you couldn’t even imagine where to start.

“Do you want me to come with you?”, Eunjoo asked while the two of you were walking to the subway.

“No. Minho would be there, so I’ll be okay”.

Lies. You wouldn’t be okay, there was no possible scenario in which you’d feel alright. Though, there was one with a happy ending, however, you didn’t seem to believe it would come true. Your gut was screaming again, completely confident it was yet another jump from the cliff’s edge. Only this time this whole mess should be resolved, so that you could finally end the falling into the abyss or be pulled back. No other options.

Every step from the subway station to the hospital seemed like your last one. What was in Chan’s mind? And, what’s more important, what the hell was going on in yours? Since the very morning you had been dissociating from everything but Chan. Although, you’d feel better dissociating from him too.

He’d made a mess out of you yet again. As if it hadn’t been enough to make you hooked on crumbs of affection he gave you, Chan got you completely fucked up when he rejected you. You tried to chalk that up to his condition, you did; but how bad his concussion had to be to make him behave like that?

Was it your guilt eating you up again?

Every thought in your head was multiplied by two the second you saw Minho sitting near Chan’s hospital room, eyes closed.

“Are you meditating?”

He opened his eyes to give you an exhausted look — the one that made any attempt to joke disappear. Dark circles under his eyes and a pale face, Jesus, when was the last time he got a good night’s sleep?

“I wish”, he replied quietly, rubbing his eyes. “I spent three hours talking to him. Never thought I had this much to say”. Minho chuckled.

“What did you say?”

“A lot”. He stood up to face you. “He’s not the talkative one today. But I think, I convinced him to speak to you too”.

Oh shit. The door handle was never as hot as it was at that moment.

Chan was sitting on the chair, looking at the view through the window. He seemed too bright in the white light of the hospital room, chest rising and falling with every breath he took. The cardigan you knitted a couple of years ago was on his shoulders, making you think that maybe he did still care; he was wearing your gift after all. You remembered how he put it on for the first time, saying it would be his favorite thing to wear. He didn’t wear it much, though. In your vivid imagination there were dreamy thoughts of him keeping it in his drawer, so that it wouldn’t get ripped accidentally — you projected yet another thing on Chan. That he, possibly, cared about you so much, he kept the cardigan you spent three months on far from dirt and dust. You probably were wrong.

“Hey”. You hesitated to move from the door further into the room, scared he’d reject you again.

Chan turned and looked at you; his piercing gaze was burning a hole in your head, and you wondered if you could make it out alive tonight. Physically — yes, but emotionally? Your gut was confident you’d be wrecked after this conversation. Or you were imagining a bad outcome yet again. Nothing had happened yet. Calm down.

“Minho’s lectured me already”.

A cold tone in his voice again. “I’m not here to lecture you. I just wanna talk”.

“Then talk”.

“Chan…” You sighed. “Just… Tell me what’s wrong. I just don’t unders-“

“You texted me, remember?” He slowly stood up. “You said you wanted to end it, remember?”

“Chan, I-“

“How was it that you put it?” He was standing there, just mere inches between you. But your back was glued to the door, and he didn’t move forward from his place near the bed. So close, yet so far. “Oh, right. Whenever you’re around, I just feel more alone”.

You gulped. Shit. “I didn’t mean it like that”.

“D’you think I’m an idiot? What else could you mean?”

“I, uh”, closing your eyes, you took a deep breath, “I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t be… Couldn’t love you anymore, knowing you didn’t… Didn’t feel the same”.

Wow. Actually saying that? Felt like a weight off your shoulders, a weight you’d been carrying for ages. Texting was one thing, but looking into his eyes and deliver the line was somehow phenomenal.

“Why are you here then? Get out if I’m such a horrible person”. A scathing tone of his voice covering up something else, something deeper inside. You couldn’t figure out what.

“Stop it”. You replied firmly. “Turn this bullshit off. Why are you acting like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like someone else”.

“Oh”, you followed every move he made, from narrowing his eyes at you to crackling his knuckles. “So I’m not that desirable when I’m not dancing to your tune?”

He let out a chuckle; you wanted to kill him instantly. Did he really need to be metaphoric to spit poison at you?

“When did you do that?” You didn’t expect the tone of your voice to be so demanding. “When did you dance to my tune, huh? Isn’t it the other way round?”

He sat down on the bed, hands covering his face. You had absolutely no idea of what was going on. Was it all in your head, a hallucination? This whole day, the way he spoke to you, the way he made you feel?

“You were right, we should end it”. He responded to the message you’d sent weeks ago, absolutely ignoring the words you were saying just now. “We won’t work it out”.

“Chan, please”, you didn’t even catch the moment when you got on your knees on the floor beside the bed, “talk to me. Why are you being like this?”

He watched the tears falling down your face and cupped your cheek, wiping them with his thumb. “Because we only hurt each other, tiger”.

“No. It’s not true”.

“It is”, he stammered. “I hurt you with… With all of this mess. I didn’t realize you were in love with me. And I didn’t realize I was in love with you too”.

He laughed nervously. “Minho has told you already, right?”. You nodded, eyes still focused on him. “Knew it”.

“Chan-“

“Let me finish, please”, he answered softly, “I want you to know”. He stopped, taking a deep breath and exhaling — every move still bringing him pain.

“I think, I, uh… I think, we just don’t work. Not like a couple. And we never worked out as friends either”. He drew a breath. “‘Cause I’ve been in love with you the moment we met, I think”.

What?

“It took me long enough to understand it. And when I realized you reciprocated, I, uh, I… I didn’t know what to do. ‘Cause the thrill, it kinda expired, y’know?”

“What are you talking about?”

He sighed again. “You know that… You know that I, uh… Shit, I’ve never said it out loud”, he let out a laugh, fidgeting in his seat. “I like the first steps, ‘getting the girl’ type of thing. And when I get her, it.. It gets boring”.

An arrow pierced through your chest, almost hitting the heart. A painful tingling, followed by a bloody spot appearing on your white shirt. He was merciless in his honesty, wasn’t he?

“When you said you had feelings for me, I wanted to, uh, I wanted to make sure it was true so that I knew what to do next”.

“Do you know now?”

He went silent for a moment. “Yes”. Your heart dropped to your stomach in a desperate attempt to avoid another arrow being shot in its direction. In those seconds of complete silence you prayed to every god to make it all a bad dream. It couldn’t be real. Not with Chan, no.

“And?”

“We need to break up. To stop it all”.

You took a deep breath before standing up to your feet. Looking at Chan, you didn’t notice a slight sign of tears or sorrow on his face — he just observed you, emptiness in his eyes. Every little thing you used to see, the gentleness, the love — it was all gone. Or maybe it was never there. Maybe, probably, you just wanted to see those feelings being there. Could it be possible that he really only wanted you when you didn’t love him? Was he that cruel, to leave you the second you reciprocated?

A tingling in your chest turned into a hole, left by dozens of arrows released into your heart. Every word he said turned into a weapon to kill you. And now inside your rib cage there was nothing but a bloodbath made from what used to be your heart just minutes ago. You could do nothing — even though you wished your tears ricocheted as daggers in response to his ruthlessness.

“You should’ve told me you were like this”. You went poker-faced (so you hoped) and Chan’s face darkened, as if he hadn’t just hurt you in the worst way possible.

“I’m sorry”.

“Sorry won’t fix anything”, was it you speaking? Seemed as if you heard that voice for the first time in your life. “You’re saying this bullshit, but for some reason you questioned, you wondered if your feelings for me were real. If they weren’t, would you run to see me?”

“It’s not the case-“

“Answer me”.

The orotund voice of yours, that neither you nor Chan had heard before, must have startled him, as he glanced at you in shock. Maybe that was the side of the real inner persona you were looking for — demanding, even when hurt. Although, the only thing you craved for was to collapse on the floor and beg him to love you back. Perhaps, if you hadn’t been that pathetic previously, Chan would reciprocate the feelings in the present.

“I already said why I did what I did. I wanted to make sure they were true so that I could end it. I wanted to figure out what I felt”.

“Did you ever stop to think about how I feel?”

A look in his eyes that you managed to catch in those mere seconds was unknown. It was a stranger watching you and shaking his head in response to your words. A man that was once on every mural in the temple of your heart became a stranger in a snap of the fingers.

“You could have just told me. Set a fucking boundary”. You clenched your fists as your voice grew louder. “You could, should have told me you were a heartless piece of shit”.

“You should have seen it coming”, he replied calmly. “You saw how each of my relationships ended”.

You nodded, gulping, forbidding yourself from being vulnerable in front of him ever again. “I was in love with you to foresee you’d treat me the same way. And you were my best friend, after all. I just wanted to be someone you could love”.

“To think”, you continued after picking your bag from the floor, “to think I’ve done so many things, changed so much to get you to love me, and you still… And you still never look my way”. You let out a breathy chuckle, almost losing your face. “Although you did, but only when I didn’t love you, right?”

He sighed. “Please, just… Don’t make a scene. I only told you that to get it off my chest”.

Cruel. Heartless. In your worst nightmares you couldn’t imagine him saying these things. But he did.

“I’m not making anything. I’m fact”, you turned to face the door, “I won’t bother you ever again. You can move onto the next girl to have unrequited feeling for”.

Slamming the door, you almost sprinted to the exit, to avoid talking to Minho, to escape this place you grew accustomed to. You only wanted to be alone.

How could a person change so drastically in mere minutes? Chan you had just talked to wasn’t the one who was as familiar as your own mind. In all those years you’d been friends he had never behaved this way.

“Not to you”, that inner voice of a conspiracy theorist rose from the ashes again. “Don’t forget what he told you about his break up once”.

“I just, uh.. I dunno. It’s like I lose interest whenever a girl falls for me for real”.

Every word now engraved in your mind, engraved there for eternity. The man in that hospital was still Chan, and you were still you too. But now your favourite “friends to lovers” trope turned into dust. In a split second you and him were strangers again, and there was no second chance for the two of you to meet in the writing club once again.

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