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weird-bookworm · 14 hours ago

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PAVEMENT CHALK & NOSTALGIA

H.HK x ChildhoodBestFriend!Reader

Summary: Hyunjin stumbles across a small artist from Twitter and Dms them for tips, short messages of advice turn into confessions of the past and confiding in eachother- and Hyunjin realises that the pretty girl who works with pastels isn't just some nobody.

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★ EPILOGUE ★

Hyunjin had left before sunrise like usual. As always his schedule was unforgiving and he had to be in the hair and beauty chair at JYP for a promotional shoot early in the morning.

For the first few months of your relationship, you had demanded Hyunjin wake you before he left— waking up to an empty bed made your mind race. Questioning whether he left you once more, or if your reconciliation was just a dream and not reality, those thoughts rushing through your head and pushing you into a spiral.

But today marked exactly 6 months since the day "Sam" (read: Hyunjin), direct messaged you on Twitter for art advice.

When you were younger you used to believe in the red string theory, the idea that you and your soulmate were tied together with a red string that will always pull you back together. That faith and belief dwindled as you got older- magic and fairies were deemed as "childish" by teenage you.

But when you wake up in the morning, sunlight flittering through the half opened sheer curtains, illuminating a yellow sticky note on hyunjin's pillow, black or blue biro scribbling "I love you"s and "message me when you wake up" alongside little cartoon figures. That faith slowly filled your heart once more.

You sat in bed, picking up the yellow note and playing idly with the edges. You'd started to collect them ever since he started writing them. You must have at least 50 now, they were all laid in your bedside drawer, but they were starting to each capacity. You needed something bigger, maybe a shoebox—

A shoebox!

Your mind rushed at the epiphany as you scrambled from your bed to your closet, you stood on your tiptoes, trying to reach the old battered shoebox left on the top shelf.

Eventually, after the help of standing on a few books for an extra boost, your hands gripped the shoebox that was covered in stickers and decorating tape.

Hey— little you was also creative.

You eagerly, but cautiously took off the shoe box lid as you peered at the contents as you riffled through.

Handmade friendship bracelets. Cute. But not what you were looking for.

Birthday cards. Nope.

The red ribbon you used to put in your hair. Now that is a throwback- you could use it.

Your old school tie. Ugh- no, even the thought of wearing that gives you sensory nightmares.

Polaroids? Awww. Not what you were looking for, but you could use that, sure.

When Hyunjin told the boys he was seeing someone, the reactions were what he expected.

Chan was happy for him. He patted him on the back and said "good for you mate" with a smile, he was excited to meet the girl who he had heard so much about- the quote on quote "one who got away".

Minho was silently happy, didn't say much, but Hyunjin could tell he was pleased for him.

Changbin mockingly cried and wailed, stating that Hyunjin was cheating on him and "how dare he break up a family?!" After his joking act was acknowledged with a laugh, he pulled Hyunjin into a hug and gave him an affirming clap on the back.

Jisung was smug. So smug Hyunjin wished he didn't say anything. "AH! I KNEW IT! — I WAS RIGHT WASN'T I? ITS THE GIRL FROM TWITTER!". Hyunjin only rolled his eyes.

Felix immediately started asking questions- "what is she like?" "Do you have any photos?" "How long have you been going out?". Hyunjin- ever the romantic, was more than willing to gush about you to anybody that would listen.

Seungmin and Jeongin had similar reactions, making various jokes about how "it was about time" and how they started to think that Hyunjin was all talk when it came to romance.

After the initial reaction everything went back to normal, it always did when one member told the group of a development in their personal life. But that didn't mean there was no teasing.

Hyunjins looking at his phone too long? "Are you texting your girlfriend, lover boy?" (He is but don't tell them that)

Hyunjin's more tired than usual? "Up late with the Mrs, Hyunjin?" (He's not dignifying that with a response.)

Hyunjin talking about a new art exhibit? "Are you taking sunshine with you on a date?" (He is but shut up)

He let out a small sigh as he felt the make up artist brushing something onto his face. Six months? That's a big deal to him.

When telling the members, most of them regarded the six months milestone as mostly insignificant- just a text or a bouquet of flowers to commemorate the occasion was warranted.

But Hyunjin was theatric, romantic and passionate. Flowers were too cliche. Chocolates had no thought behind it.

Hm. A good present consists of two parts, something sentimental, and something useful.

Hyunjin could do that.

He hopes.

--------

You could hear Hyunjin outside the front door, his hands fumbling with the key pad clumsily. You laid relaxed on the arm chair in the living room. It was chaos, organized chaos, but still chaos.

Canvases strewn across the floor, dried up paint pallettes, boxes of oil pastels, sketchbooks, crafting paper littered everywhere.

You were always worried about Hyunjin seeing the mess as gross or disgusting. You ensured the space was clean and sanitary- but you still had an irrational fear of judgement, so much so that you refused to let him into your apartment for at least two months.

Eventually, after relentless nagging and whining you gave in reluctantly, where you swiftly found out that your worries were unneeded. When hyunjin's eyes saw your organized chaos his face lit up like a kid on Christmas, and shot out various rapid fire questions on your paint brands, canvas quality and gushing about your half finished sketches.

Hyunjin found it endearing. Your apartment resembled you so perfectly, coloured walls and fake sticky adhesive tiles the store clerk had ensured you were "rent-friendly". Every nook and cranny of the house was covered in art, from your professional pieces to the doodles of the kids and children you took care of at the hospital.

The "thank you" banner the kids made to the anonymous donor however, was now hanging in hyunjin's room at the dorm- taking pride and place next to his own art pieces he had both made and collected.

"Sunshine~" hyunjin's voice called as he finally opened the door, letting himself in as he carried multiple bags in his arms.

"Hi baby — What's all this for?" You enquire, getting up and walking towards him as he places the bags onto the kitchen counter, your arms wrapping around hyunjin's waist.

"Eh?! - you don't know?!" He exclaimed, eyes wide, but his arms still reciprocated the embrace.

You laugh "Ah- I'm joking, I'm joking... Happy six months baby"

"You want to order in? Chinese food and wine sounds amazing right now" you ask.

"hm, romantic." He jokes, squeezing at your sides, "yeah sounds good."

"m'kay I'll put the order in- you want to go have a shower?"

"what— you don't like my after dance practice musk?" He pulls you in further, playfully squeezing you as you pretend to push back weakly.

"Gah! You're so gross hyunnie" he pecked your cheek before letting go.

"I'll be like ten minutes- don't open those bags."

He walks off in the direction of your bathroom and you wait for the sound of the water rushing. You ordered food quickly and kept your footsteps light as you went to retrieve your present, covered in a white sheet as you put it on the table.

You continued to set up the table, two mini easels you'd bought a little while ago for the kids at the hospital, two equally mini canvas', clean paint palettes, pencils, and various other supplies. You lit some candles, and got out the fancy wine glasses.

The water turned off and you stepped back and admired your work. "Woah-" Hyunjin's voice came shortly after his approaching footsteps.

"Do you like it?"

"Like it? It's beautiful, sunny." He said softly, staring a little bit and giving you a small side hug before getting out his phone and taking a picture. "Ugh, I wish I could post this on Instagram" he sighed wistfully before turning the camera to you.

"Smile for the camera pretty girl"

You replied with a cheesy grin as he cooed in reply "ahhhh my heart~"

You scoff "Dinner should be arriving in 40 minutes, want to make a start Van Gogh?"

-----------

The soft flicker of candlelight danced on the wooden table, casting warm golden hues over two blank canvases propped delicately on their easels. A gentle hum of indie jazz played in the background, muffled by the thick warmth of the room and the occasional clink of glass against wood.

You let out a breathy laugh as you adjusted your canvas, the legs of the easel slightly crooked from your last attempt to level it. Across from you, Hyunjin sat with one elbow resting on the table, his other hand swirling the deep red liquid in his crystal glass, the rich burgundy catching the candlelight like a gem.

“You sure we’re not just here for the gin?” he teased, raising his glass in a playful toast.

You grinned, reaching for your own glass. “I thought we were here for the art.”

“Right,” he said, eyes twinkling. “Art. And maybe a little chaos.”

On the table, a bottle of wine stood tall beside a tray of paints, vivid reds, calming blues, playful yello, all jumbled together in their palettes like an invitation to forget perfection. Scattered brushes and unopened chocolate bars rested nearby, hinting at sweet intermissions and creative cravings.

Behind you, oversized red balloons with white polka dots leaned lazily against the chairs, a cheerful, childish contrast to the otherwise moody atmosphere. A vase of fading flowers brought a rustic charm to the space, petals curling inward like secret smiles.

Hyunjin picked up a paintbrush, held it out like a sword, narrowing his eyes.

“Prepare yourself, Picasso. This is war.”

You rolled your eyes and laugh. “You’re going to regret saying that when you see what I paint.”

He leaned forward, his voice dropping an octave, teasing but affectionate. “Oh yeah? What are you painting, then?”

You dipped your brush into a swirl of red, then looked up at him with a soft smile. “Something that makes me happy.”

For a moment, the air shifted, charged not with wine or laughter, but with something more intimate. More quiet. More real.

He stared at you, the candlelight reflecting in his dark eyes. “I hope it’s me.”

You blushed, pretending to focus on your canvas. “Guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

And so the evening unfurled: laughter and brushstrokes, sips of gin between streaks of color, fingers stained with paint and hearts warmed by quiet glances. Outside, the world spun on, unaware. But inside that softly lit room, time paused—just long enough for two people to turn a blank canvas into something unforgettable.

The candles had burned lower, their wax pooling quietly on the wooden table. Dinner had arrived about 30 minutes ago, you both decided to eat and paint at the same time, cheekily throwing fortune cookies and empty boxes at eachother as a form lf "distraction".

Your wine glasses were nearly empty now, the gin having warmed your chest and loosened your nerves just enough to let creativity flow. The room smelled faintly of citrus and flowers and something warm—something like comfort.

You leaned back, brush still in hand, inspecting your masterpiece with a mix of satisfaction and nerves. Across from you, Hyunjin let out a triumphant “Aha!” and tossed his brush into the empty cup like he’d just completed a symphony.

“Done,” he announced proudly, wiping a faint streak of blue from his cheek with the back of his hand. “And might I say… I’ve truly outdone myself.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

Hyunjin leaned forward, grinning. “Same time?”

You nodded, heart fluttering with anticipation. There was something almost sacred about this moment, sharing what you’d created, what you’d quietly poured pieces of yourself into.

“Three… two… one-”

You both turned your canvases toward each other at the same time.

There was silence.

You stared at his painting, and then laughed. Not because it was bad. Not because it was ridiculous. But because it was you. Not a perfect portrait given the rushed circumstances, but a dreamy interpretation of your silhouette, sitting at the very same table, surrounded by soft lighting and blooming color. He’d exaggerated the flowers behind you, added a glow to your gave. It was beautiful. Warm. Alive.

“You painted me?” you whispered, surprised.

Hyunjin’s ears turned pink as he looked down, suddenly shy. “I, uh… yeah. I wanted to capture the way you looked tonight. You know… peaceful. Focused. Like you belonged here.”

You stared a second longer, heart swelling.

Then you turned his gaze to your painting.

At first, he said nothing. His eyes traveled slowly over the canvas. You hadn’t painted him in full. Instead, you’d painted his hand reaching out—toward yours. Two hands, suspended mid-air, fingers almost touching. Around them were soft washes of color—sunset pinks, warm orange, deep violet—like the entire world faded behind that one, near-touch.

He looked up at you, something quiet behind his eyes. “Is this… us?”

You nodded. “I was trying to capture that moment. You know, when something’s about to happen. When it’s not just friendship anymore.”

Hyunjin leaned back in his chair, eyes still on the painting, lips curved gently. “It’s perfect,” he said.

There was a silence then—not awkward, not empty. Just… full. Of unspoken things. Of shared gazes and rapid heartbeats.

Then he spoke again, softly, “I guess we both painted what makes us happy.”

You looked at him.

And maybe it was the warmth of the room, or the gin, or the way his voice had softened just for you—but you leaned across the table, your fingers brushing his. Not quite holding. Not quite letting go.

The same way your hands had nearly touched in your painting.

The soft atmosphere was interrupted with your exclamation. "Oh! Your present!"

You get up hastily, the awkward sound of the chair dragging across the tiles floor as you retrieve it from its hiding place, still wrapped in a white cloth.

Hyunjin had cleared a little space at the table for you to set your gift down, his bags of gifts lay on the table next to yours.

He slid the bag he had bought towards you. "Ladies first."

You pulled out the first wrapped gift. It was large, flat and rectangular- you gave the present a rhythmic tap as you hummed in recognition. "Canvas?" You said, not waiting for an answer before you peeled off the pink and red heart wrapping paper.

Concealed behind the paper was an oil painting, muted colours and deliberate brush strokes that melded together to form a bouquet of flowers.

"I painted it a few years ago— it was during the anniversary of me moving away. I saw it the other day while trying to find your next present, and I thought it was a good representation of how bleak my life has been without you" He confessed, his eyes holding contact with yours.

"I'm going to repaint it I think... Maybe for our one year anniversary, with more vibrant colours this time."

Your eyes teared up as you sniffled, as you dabbed at your eyes with the sleeve of your sweater. "Ahh, you're gonna make me cry hyunnie"

You stand up and walk around the table, wrapping your arms around him. He scooches back on his chair before pulling you in by the waist and you sit on his lap.

"Don't cry yet you have 2 more presents" he laughed, pulling a thick envelope. You gingerly opened it, still sniffing and teary eyed from the painting and you pulled out 14 pieces of folded paper, each numbered.

"Every year I wrote you a letter, the first one was a few months after I left. The rest were on the anniversary of me leaving- I figured since I never got to send them to you. You could have them now..."

Year 1

Sunshine,

It’s only been a few months, but it already feels like a lifetime. I still reach for my phone to text you, forgetting I can’t. Everything reminds me of you — your laugh in the back of my mind, your handwriting on my old notebooks. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do without you. I hope you’re okay. Please be okay.

Always, Hyunjin (11 years old)

Year 2

Hey,

Today I passed by a café that reminded me of the one we always went to. It wasn't much different, but I couldn’t bring myself to go in. What’s the point if you’re not there, waiting with that annoyed-yet-soft look because I was late again?

I miss you. I’m scared to admit how much.

Yours, Hyunjin (12 years old)

Year 3

Sunshine,

I’m getting better at pretending. People ask me how I’m doing, and I smile. But some nights, I dream about you and wake up with tears on my pillow. Do you still think about me? Even for a second?

Three years and I still can’t let you go.

Love, Hyunjin (13 years old)

Year 4

Sunshine,

Someone told me that time heals everything. They lied. The wound just settled into a quiet ache. I tried to start over, meet new people. But no one is you.

I don’t know if I’m waiting for you or for myself to forget.

Still here, Hyunjin (14 years old)

Year 5

Dear Sunshine,

I found an old photo of us today. We looked so happy — young and certain. I wanted to rip it in half, but I couldn’t. Instead, I stared at it until the edges blurred with tears.

I wonder, would you recognize me now?

Missing you, Hyunjin. (15 years old)

Year 6

Sunny,

There’s a new song that reminds me of us. I listen to it on repeat like it might bring you back. It won’t, I know. But I still let it play. It’s the only way I can hear your voice in my head clearly.

You were my favorite melody.

Forever, Hyunjin (16 years old)

Year 7

Dear You,

Half of me wants to forget. The other half holds onto you like a lifeline. What does that say about me? About us?

Seven years, and I still haven’t learned how to live without you. Maybe I never will.

All my heart, Hyunjin (17 years old)

Year 8

My Sunshine,

The sky was the same shade of blue as the day you left. I watched it for hours, wondering if you were looking at it too.

I hope you’re happy. Even if it’s not with me. I’m trying to mean that. Really, I am.

Always yours, Hyunjin (18 years old)

Year 9

Hey,

I met someone who reminded me of you — not in how they looked, but how they made me feel: that electric spark, the warmth in silence. But I pulled away. It wasn’t fair to them. Or to you.

You still live in every corner of my heart.

Solemnly, Hyunjin (19 years old)

Year 10

Sunshine,

Ten years. A decade. I thought I’d be over it by now. But then I catch a glimpse of something — a scarf like yours, a laugh like yours — and I fall apart all over again.

Do you remember me the way I remember you?

Endlessly, Hyunjin (20 years old)

Year 11

Sunny,

I wrote your nickname in the fog on my window this morning. I don’t know why — habit, maybe. Or hope. Some days I think I’ve finally healed. Then I hear something that sounds like your voice, and it all crashes down.

What am I without you?

Hyunjin (21 years old)

Year 12

Dear You,

I wonder what kind of person you’ve become. Are you still afraid of thunder? Do you still drink your tea too hot and regret it instantly? I wish I could see you, just once, from afar — just to know you’re real.

I still carry you with me.

With love, Hyunjin. (22 years old)

Year 13

Sunshine,,

I dreamed of you last night. You were older. I was too. But you smiled the same way. I woke up with my heart racing, wishing it had been real.

You were the best part of my life. Still are.

Maybe we’ll meet again someday.

Until then, Hyunjin (23 years old)

Year 14

My Y/N,

Fourteen years. I’ve lived a whole lifetime without you, yet it feels like no time has passed. I think I’ll always love you — not in a desperate, aching way anymore, but quietly, deeply, endlessly.

If I saw you again, I’d say: I never stopped waiting.

Yours forever, Hyunjin (24 years old).

As your hands, now trembling, put down the last letter as you bit your quivering lip. Your shoulders curled inward, and you bent your head like the weight of it all was too much. Hyunjin stood there, heart cracking open, watching you hold every word he had written in scribbled handwriting for all the years he couldn't’t reach you.

And then, softly, you said,

"I don’t deserve this."

God, you did. You always did. Hyunjin thought as he moved your tear stricken face into his neck as sent comforting shushes. His thumb brushing a tear away.

"I never stopped writing to you sunshine, because I never stopped loving you."

A poignant pause of silence flittered over the two of you, deep shaky breaths. " I think your third present can wait for later- can't have you crying any more, can't have your pretty face getting tired"

"Shut up. You better cry now hwang." You sniffled, pushing your present over.

It was a wooden box you had knocking around after you had bought it on a whim at the new arts and craft store opened up a few years ago- you'd never had any use for it until now.

You'd painted the woods with acrylic, orange, yellow and pink hues merged together to create a gradient likened to a sunset, in the foreground you had painted sun flowers with winding green leaves and vines that ran across the box's lid. The latches and handle to open it were golden, and it was around the size of a shoe box.

"Ahhh it's so pretty" Hyunjin hummed, picking up the box for a better view.

"That's not the present, dummy." He gives you a cheesy grin before lifting the latch and opening the box.

Inside you had filled it with tissue paper, on top of the paper you arranged the Polaroids decoratively in a circle, displaying all of the pictures. Pictures of you at school, during summer breaks, at the beach, drawing together. Each snapshot taken by your parents, representing your friendship perfectly.

In the middle was the snapped piece of chalk, you had used the red hair ribbons and tied a bow around it. Hyunjin's eyes glossed over at the sight, his hands shakily picked up the white stick.

It looked so much smaller now, he used to be able to hold it like a pencil, his small seven year old hands grasping around it. Now it could fit in his palm, he closed his hand into a fist and it was engulfed completely.

"Can't believe you kept this" he whispered, putting down the chalk and wrapping his arms around you once more, "Is that your hair ribbon?"

"Yeah"

He let out a sniffle and peered at the pictures, a quiet tear rolling down his face as he smiled. God he was such a pretty crier.

"Thank you Sunshine..." He muttered, face now nuzzled into your hair. "I'm gonna display this- this is the best present I've ever gotten..."

"Your welcome Jinnie..."

You sat in each other's embrace for what felt like hours, the comfortable silence ran through your veins as you contemplated. You were lucky. So lucky to have met Hyunjin when you were a kid. And even luckier to meet him again now.

"Hey, what about my third present?" You said as you broke the silence.

"Wow... Eager are we? Seems you're already becoming spoiled." He laughs

"Shut up." You scoff as you roll your eyes playfully.

"Check your Twitter."

IMPORTANT!!!!

oh em gee I cannot believe how many people have interacted with this shitty little mini series. I decided to make this as I've never made a smau before and wanted to get the hang of it. and OMG it's so fun!!

BUT my obsession with the childhood best friend trope is not yet satisfied and I'm starting another series called: MILSHAKES & HEARTACHES which is Felix x reader, and I'm very excited about it. So if you liked this story or want to continue supporting me! Check it out!!!

Also I wrote some of this on my phone so the formatting or grammar and punctuation might be a little inconsistent sorry 😔😔

Perm Taglist: @dlizzzy @changbinsdwaekkiball @katsukis1wife @bbokari711 @geni-627 @weird-bookworm @plus-ultra0 @ihrtlix @halluci-nati0n @chimmyn0chu @daniiixoxo @tokorpse @yangstjeongin

Tag list: @kochothehoe @chimmyn0chu @katchowbbie @imagine-all-the-imagines @ateez-atiny380 @kisses4cb97 @wickedbutlovely @alisonyus @n4tr3ad5 @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @brekkers-whore @amarecerasus @aria-again @lonely-st-143 @staybabblingbaby @stayteez-will-be-my-demise @strayk1ds143 @afararraaaa @brbwritingfanfic @hazeeisme @Mysteriousgirl263 @weird-bookworm

#this smau was insanely good like !!!#how was the pacing so good for just 10 chapters i will never understand #anyway the point is i rly rly rlyyyy enjoyed the series and i cant wait for lix's 🥹#skz rbgs

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weird-bookworm · 2 days ago

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–ᝰ.ᐟ✮ You were never subtle about loving Mingyu. And he was never ready to love you back—Not until you stopped trying.

It wasn’t one grand gesture that changed everything. It was the way your silence hurt more than your love ever did. And maybe that’s how Mingyu finally realized… he lost something worth chasing.

pairing: mingyu x f!reader

genre: soft angst with a fluff payoff, mutual pining (but only one-sided at first), unrequited love… or so you thought, slow burn with fast feelings, idiot in love (feat. kim mingyu), emotional damage—lightly salted, redemption arc with a clumsy king, he got stung (literally and figuratively), he doesn’t get it until it’s almost gone, he starts chasing when you finally stop

word count: 4.7k

a/n: a little long gut-wrenching, heart-twisting, head-banging love story because sometimes love isnt easy... like getting concert tickets to see svt... who said thatttt

It started—stupidly enough—with Mario Kart. Mingyu had just knocked your car off Rainbow Road for the third time in a row, and you’d had enough.

You slammed your controller down, eyes narrowed. “Are you doing that on purpose?”

Mingyu blinked, all bright eyes and faux innocence. “What? Winning?”

“You pushed me off the edge.”

“You were in the way!”

“I was winning!”

“And I fixed that for you.”

You glared. “You’re actually insufferable, you know that?”

He grinned, all teeth. “You love it.”

You did. That was the problem.

You stood up abruptly, heading to the kitchen to cool off. Not from the game—from him. From the stupid way his laugh curled down your spine, from the way his hoodie sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, from the fact that being around him made your chest feel too tight and your skin too warm.

He followed you, obviously. Mingyu had the emotional awareness of a Labrador retriever—never noticed a line unless he’d already trampled across it.

“You’re really mad?” he asked behind you, voice still light, like it was a joke.

You yanked open the fridge, using the cold air as a shield. “I just don’t want to talk right now.”

Mingyu leaned against the counter. “Why are you taking this so seriously?”

“I said I don’t want to talk.”

“And yet,” he said, like he was the cleverest man alive, “here you are.”

You slammed the fridge door shut.

He flinched. “Okay, damn.”

You turned to him, chest rising and falling. “Why do you always have to push things?”

“Because that’s just how we are,” he shot back. “We fight, you get mad, and then tomorrow we’re fine.”

“Maybe I’m tired of that cycle, Mingyu.”

That quieted him. A second too long passed. “What’s your problem?” he asked then, tone different now—lower, almost defensive. “Seriously.”

You met his gaze, felt the burn of too much and not enough. And then you said it, tired, quiet, deadly honest: “You. Apparently.”

His face fell. You almost wished he’d laugh, roll his eyes, make a joke. But he didn’t. Mingyu stood there, the smile gone from his face, the line hanging between you like it was trembling.

“You don’t mean that,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

“I do,” you replied, and it was the worst kind of truth.

Because you meant it in all the wrong ways.

You meant he was your problem because he was in your heart all the time. Because he smiled at other people and it made you feel like you’d swallowed glass. Because he called you his best friend but kissed other girls at parties. Because you wanted more, and he never noticed.

You meant he was your problem because you couldn’t stop loving him, even if he never looked at you like you were more than someone to knock off Rainbow Road.

But you didn’t say any of that. You just stood there, the truth unspoken, and watched as he finally looked away.

“…I didn’t know you felt like that,” he murmured.

You shrugged, eyes stinging. “Now you do.”

He nodded once. “Right.” And then he left the kitchen. And you didn’t stop him.

The venue was too warm, the music too loud, and you’d been watching Mingyu from across the dance floor for twenty minutes now.

He looked good. Too good. White button-up sleeves rolled up, loose tie hanging down his chest, a dimple flashing every time someone made him laugh. He didn’t even like weddings, but there he was, making everyone else feel like they were in the middle of one of those slow-mo K-dramas where the male lead turns and locks eyes with you across a crowd.

And god help you—he did.

He saw you, smiled, and motioned for you to join him. You didn’t even hesitate. By the time you crossed the floor, he was already holding a hand out, the first few notes of a slower song bleeding through the speakers.

“Dance with me?”

You snorted. “Is that even a question?”

Your fingers slid into his like it was the most natural thing in the world. Because at this point—it was.

You'd danced with him before. Countless birthdays, one New Year’s Eve, even your prom. But this time felt different. Maybe because he was looking at you like he wasn’t sure if he should keep holding your hand. Maybe because you were done pretending it didn’t mean something to you.

So this time, you said it. While his hand rested on your waist and yours found its way to his shoulder—while the crowd around you blurred into noise and laughter and someone else’s romance—you looked him straight in the eye and said:

“You know I’m in love with you, right?”

He blinked. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“Why are you—” He laughed nervously, but his grip on your waist tightened just slightly. “Why are you saying that now?”

“Because it’s true. And because you never believe me when I say it.”

You weren’t smiling. You weren’t joking. And for once, you didn’t cushion it in a tease.

Mingyu stared at you, like he was seeing you for the first time. “You’re serious.”

“I always have been.”

The song played on. His friends were laughing somewhere nearby. Someone was shouting lyrics off-beat in the background. But all you could see was him, and the way he wasn’t letting go.

“You shouldn’t keep saying things like that,” he said, voice lower now.

“Why not?”

“Because…” He shook his head, eyes dropping to the floor, “you know I can’t—”

“I know,” you interrupted, gently. “But I’m not asking you to say it back.”

He looked up.

“I’m not saying it to get something out of you,” you continued. “I just want you to know. I don’t want to pretend like I’m not in love with you anymore.”

“You’re going to get hurt.”

You smiled, soft but fearless. “I already am. But it’s fine. I’ll live.”

You could feel the crack in the air between you, something fragile and dangerous. But you weren’t scared of it anymore. Because love, even unreturned, was still love. And you were never ashamed of that.

It was Seungcheol’s party. Loud music, too many people, and the kind of night where everyone was slightly too dressed up for a “casual hang.”

You found Mingyu in the kitchen, unsurprisingly, because wherever there was food, there he’d be. What was surprising was the girl pressed up against the counter next to him, laughing a little too hard at something he said.

You paused in the doorway.

She was twirling her hair. Her hand had brushed his arm once—twice. He didn’t move away. He wasn’t leaning in either. Just… being polite. Smiling.

But still.

Your throat felt dry. You grabbed a random cup on the table (orange soda. gross.) and sipped, eyes still locked on the scene. Then she said something. Something that made him smile a little wider. And she touched his chest. That’s when you moved.

You weren’t jealous. (No. Never that.)

You were possessive. (And maybe, just maybe, you were tired of pretending that wasn’t the same thing.)

You waltzed straight up to them, like you had every right to do it.

“Oh,” you said brightly, slipping your arm around Mingyu’s waist. “I didn’t realize we were flirting with my boyfriend tonight.”

His entire body stiffened beside you.

The girl blinked. “Wait—you’re together?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed. “Crazy, right? He looks like someone who’d be emotionally available.”

Mingyu choked.

The girl gave a tight smile, clearly embarrassed. “Right. Sorry—I didn’t know.”

You smiled sweetly. “Now you do.”

She left. You turned to Mingyu and took another sip of that tragic orange soda like nothing had happened.

“…What was that?” he asked, voice low.

“Just protecting what’s mine,” you said with a shrug.

He stared. “We’re not even dating.”

You looked at him, unfazed. “Doesn’t make it any less true.”

“Why do you keep doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Saying stuff like that.”

You tilted your head. “Because I mean it.”

Mingyu didn’t say anything. Didn’t push you away, didn’t move out of your hold. Just stood there, blinking like you’d scrambled the words in his brain.

You leaned in slightly, smiling. “Relax, Mingyu. You’re cute when you’re flustered.” And then you walked away.

You didn’t see the way he kept watching you after that. Didn’t see how his fingers twitched like they wanted to reach for yours. Didn’t know that somewhere deep down, a thought finally crept into his chest:

What if she’s not joking? And worse— What if he doesn’t want her to be?

It was a night out with mutual friends—loud bar, shared appetizers, and the kind of seat shuffling that left you and Mingyu on opposite sides of the table.

You were talking to Soonyoung about something dumb and deeply important (which dipping sauce reigns supreme) when you caught a flicker of Mingyu’s name from the group beside you.

Your ears perked up. You weren’t trying to eavesdrop. It just happened. Swear.

“He’s cute,” someone said. “But kind of… clingy, don’t you think?”

Another voice snorted. “And a little dumb. Sweet, yeah, but like. Not much going on up there.”

You froze. Your fingers tightened around your glass. It wasn’t even about the fact that they were wrong—Mingyu was sweet. He was clingy, in a golden retriever way. But he was also smart in ways people never gave him credit for. Gentle in a world that prized coldness. Loyal when others were quick to walk away.

You stood up without thinking, sliding your chair back hard enough to make a scraping sound.

Every eye turned to you.

You leaned against their table, gaze direct. “Sorry, just wondering—how many conversations have you actually had with him? Or do you always assume the worst about people who are better than you?”

The table went dead quiet. One of them blinked. “It was just a joke.”

You smiled—tight, sharp. “Yeah. That’s what people say when they run out of ways to be decent.”

Another opened their mouth, but you cut them off. “You don’t have to like him. But if you’re going to talk about someone like that, maybe make sure his friends isn’t sitting six feet away.”

You didn’t wait for an answer. You just turned, walking back to your side of the table.

And Mingyu. Was. Staring. Like you’d just flipped his entire universe upside down.

“You heard that?” you asked, sliding back into your seat like nothing happened.

He was still blinking. “You… didn’t have to do that.”

“I know.”

“But you did.”

“Yeah, well. I don’t like when people talk about you like you’re not the best thing to ever happen to this group.”

His throat bobbed.

You sipped your drink. “Besides, I’ve said worse about you to your face.”

That got a laugh out of him—but it was a quiet one. Like he was trying to process something else. Something heavier. You didn’t push it. You just went back to your fries and let him sit there, reeling. But you saw the way he looked at you now. Like you’d done something irreversible. Like he didn’t know what to do with someone who’d fight for him without flinching.

Like maybe, just maybe— he didn’t deserve it. But part of him… wanted to.

The karaoke room was already humid with energy—half-sung duets, shrieked choruses, and Seungkwan demanding a redo of “Love Scenario” because someone ruined his harmony.

You were two and a half sojus deep. Mingyu was across the room, nursing a lemon soju and looking way too good in that stupid oversized hoodie. And you—dangerously unhinged with the mic in your hand.

“Okay,” you announced to the room. “This next one’s a special performance.”

Jihoon groaned. “If it’s another Taeyeon ballad I swear—”

“No,” you grinned. “This one’s a… confession, actually.”

The room collectively oohed. Mingyu raised his eyebrows from the couch.

You looked him dead in the eye, bold and loose-limbed and smiling. “Dedicated to the one and only Kim Mingyu—who is somehow still clueless after all these years.”

“What—”

But you were already cueing the song.

“Can’t Help Falling in Love.” The Elvis version. Vintage. Corny. Deadly honest.

The first note played. You swayed slightly on your feet.

🎵 Wise men say… only fools rush in… 🎵

Your voice wasn’t perfect. You missed a few beats. But you didn’t look away from him—not once.

🎵 But I… can’t help… falling in love with you… 🎵

It wasn’t a joke. It wasn’t ironic. And suddenly the room wasn’t laughing anymore.

You saw it—right then. Mingyu, sitting very still, his mouth slightly open, the flush on his cheeks rising with every note you sang.

🎵 Like a river flows… surely to the sea… 🎵

You smiled softly. God, you meant it.

🎵 Darling so it goes… some things are meant to be. 🎵

You finished the song without a single crack in your voice.

Silence followed. A few awkward coughs. A pity clap. Someone whistled. But your eyes stayed on him.

Mingyu didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stared at you with that look—that deep, unreadable look—like he was rewinding every second of the past three years in his head.

You gave a mock bow and handed off the mic. Then you walked over to him, leaned down just enough for only him to hear, and whispered— “Now you can’t say I never told you.”

And you left him sitting there, heart racing, mind screaming, while the next person picked a loud song and tried to pretend nothing just shifted permanently. Because it did.

You were glowing. That’s the only way Mingyu could describe you.

Standing there in your little black top, drink in hand, eyes crinkled as you laughed at something Joshua Hong said—like he was the funniest person alive. Mingyu stood on the other side of the rooftop party, watching you laugh at someone else’s jokes and hating himself for caring.

He didn’t know when it had started.

Maybe it was the karaoke night. Maybe it was the time you told off those people for mocking him. Maybe it was the way you never once backed down from how much you loved him.

All he knew was: tonight, you weren’t looking at him. And it bothered the hell out of him.

Joshua leaned in a little closer. Said something else. You laughed again, eyes sparkling. Mingyu clenched his jaw. His friend asked something beside him, but he didn’t register it. And then Joshua reached out—touched your arm lightly.

Mingyu moved before he could think. He cut across the party, drink half-full, pulse racing with something he couldn’t name.

You looked up just as he stepped beside you. “Hey,” you said, smiling. “You okay?”

He didn’t answer you. He turned to Joshua instead. “Mind if I steal her?”

Joshua blinked, looking amused. “You two are—?”

“Yeah,” Mingyu said, voice flat. “She’s mine.”

The words felt foreign in his mouth. Heavy. But they were out now, and the second Joshua nodded politely and stepped away, Mingyu turned to you, the moment cracking open between you.

You raised an eyebrow. “She’s yours?”

He realized, too late, how that sounded. “I didn’t mean—well, I did—but not like that. I just…”

You stared at him, lips parted in that dangerous don’t test me way you had. “What’s your problem?”

The words were familiar. He blinked.

You stepped closer, arms crossing. “You never care when I say I love you. But suddenly you’re calling me yours the second someone else talks to me?”

Mingyu’s mouth opened. Then shut. “…I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he admitted, voice low.

Your expression softened just a little. “It’s not your job to chase me,” you said, quieter now. “But you don’t get to be jealous if you’re not even in the race.”

And then you left him there. Again. Heart pounding. Jaw tight. Mind reeling. Because for the first time, he finally wanted to be.

It’d been a week since the party. Since you walked away from him. Since the words “you don’t get to be jealous if you’re not even in the race” replayed in his mind like a broken record that only he could hear.

And you’d gone quiet. Not cold. Not angry. Just… quiet.

Still warm, still friendly, still kind. But you didn’t reach for him first anymore. Didn’t text him random memes at 2 a.m., didn’t drag him into late-night convenience store runs or demand he try whatever new snack you discovered.

You weren’t ignoring him. You were just… living. And he was suffering. He didn’t know what to do with it—this space you’d quietly drawn between you. It wasn’t a punishment. It was just a shift. And it scared the hell out of him.

Because if you weren’t chasing him anymore… what did that make him?

You were at the café near campus, flipping through a book when he walked in, half-expecting you to call out to him like always.

You didn’t. You didn’t even look up.

He grabbed a drink anyway. Sat down across from you like it was muscle memory. He didn’t even ask.

You glanced up with a small smile. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he replied, suddenly feeling like he was sitting across from a stranger he used to know by heart.

A beat of silence. “You’ve been busy?” he asked.

You blinked. “Not really. Just doing my thing.”

Your thing used to include him. Now it didn’t. You turned another page, unfazed.

Mingyu’s leg bounced under the table. “You… haven’t been texting.”

Your eyes flicked up again, curious. “I didn’t know I was supposed to.”

He opened his mouth. Shut it. “I mean, not supposed to. Just—used to.”

You nodded slowly. “Guess I’ve just been waiting to see if you’d ever text first.”

Silence again. And it killed him. Because he hadn’t. Not once. Not really. Not unless you prompted it. Not unless you pulled it out of him. And now? He didn’t know how.

“…Do you want me to?” he asked.

You gave a soft smile. “Only if you mean it.”

You went back to reading. Calm. In control.

Mingyu sat there, staring at the rim of his cup, feeling like the entire world had tilted on its axis. Because for the first time—he felt like he was chasing you. And he didn’t even know when the race started.

It was a small get-together. Nothing fancy. Someone’s apartment. Music low, drinks flowing, people sitting on the floor or perched on counters.

You were sitting on the armrest of a couch, chatting with Jun. Of all people, of course it had to be Jun. Tall, charming, occasionally too smooth for his own good.

You weren’t even flirting. Not really. Just laughing at something he said, sipping from your can, looking relaxed and unbothered. But from across the room, Mingyu was dying. He was standing with Soonyoung, half-hearing the conversation about some new ramen spot. His eyes, though—locked on you.

You looked happy. And it hit him like a truck. He used to make you laugh like that. Used to be the one you leaned toward when something was funny. Used to be the one in your orbit—no, the center of it.

And now? You were drifting. And he was the one left behind.

Jun nudged your shoulder. Said something with a wink. You didn’t wink back—but you smiled. Bright. Easy. And Mingyu’s stomach twisted so hard he had to look away.

“What’s wrong with you?” Soonyoung asked.

“Huh?”

“You look like someone just ran over your dog.”

Mingyu blinked, then tried to laugh it off. “Nah, I’m fine.”

But his fists were clenched. His jaw was tight. His drink had gone warm in his hand.

And his heart? Pounding. Because that feeling in his chest—that low, gnawing ache?

It wasn’t annoyance. It wasn’t confusion. It was fear.

Fear that someone else was going to see you the way he should’ve. That someone else was going to chase you the way he didn’t. That someone else was going to love you out loud— and you were finally going to let them.

And worst of all? That he would only realize how badly he wanted you… when it was already too late.

It was past midnight. He stared at your contact name for fifteen minutes. You hadn’t texted him all day. No meme. No inside joke. No check-in about dinner plans or asking if he remembered to eat.

It was quiet. And Mingyu hated it. He tried everything. Showered. Cleaned his kitchen. Scrolled through TikTok. Walked his dog… twice. But his brain kept going back to that laugh you gave Jun. To the soft smile you gave anyone lately that wasn’t him.

So he caved.

[12:17am]

you up?

He stared at the bubble. Waited. No reply.

[12:20am]

couldn’t sleep. thinking about you. idk why.

That was a lie. He knew why. He’d known since the karaoke night. Since the café. Since the second you stopped chasing him. He was unraveling and didn’t know how to ask you to catch him.

[12:26am]

sorry if that’s weird. ignore me if you want.

He tossed the phone on his bed. Pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. God, he missed you. And for once, it wasn’t because you were gone. It was because you were finally standing still— and he had never even tried to meet you halfway.

Mingyu knocked on your door just before noon. You opened it, sleepy and hair messy, hoodie slipping off your shoulder. You blinked. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he said, voice low. “I, um…”

You raised a brow. “You good?”

“I texted you last night.”

“I saw.”

He fidgeted. “You replied.”

“Yeah. I didn’t want you to think I was ignoring you.”

You stepped aside, letting him in like it was nothing. But everything in your apartment felt different now—colder, somehow, even with the sun spilling in through the window.

He sat on the couch. Watched you shuffle to the kitchen and pour cereal like it was a normal day. But it wasn’t. Not to him. “Did you mean it?” he asked suddenly.

You paused, spoon halfway to your mouth. “…Mean what?”

“That you weren’t chasing anymore.”

You set the bowl down on the counter. Turned to face him, expression unreadable.

“I never said that.”

“But you stopped.”

“I got tired,” you said quietly.

And there it was again. That same weight. The same ache in your voice that he’d been pretending he didn’t hear for weeks.

“I miss you,” he said, all in one breath. “Like—us. Talking. Hanging out. The way things were.”

You tilted your head. “What part of me do you miss, Mingyu? The one who loved you too loudly, or the one who let you get away with pretending you didn’t hear it?”

Silence. He opened his mouth. Closed it. Swallowed hard. You smiled, just a little. Bittersweet.

“I’m not punishing you,” you said gently. “But you can’t miss something you never let yourself have.”

You picked up your cereal again and walked back to the couch. Plopped beside him like nothing happened. But Mingyu? He felt like he’d just fallen through the floor. Because you were right. You always were.

And now that he wanted you… he wasn’t sure he still deserved you.

It started with the coffee. You found it sitting outside your door one morning. Still warm. Your usual order. No note. Just there.

You figured it was a one-time thing. Until it happened again. And again. The third time, you opened your door fast enough to catch him turning to leave.

“Mingyu.”

He froze. Turned, sheepish. “Hey. Uh. Morning.”

You blinked down at the cup in your hand. “Is this you apologizing or bribing me into friendship again?”

“Both?” he winced.

You narrowed your eyes. “And what are you trying to say with coffee?”

“That I remember how you take it?” he offered, voice small.

You stared.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay, that sounded lame. I just—I wanted to do something. I know I don’t say things right sometimes, and I mess up a lot, and I never gave you what you deserved, and—”

“Mingyu.”

He shut up instantly.

You sighed, stepping back to let him in. “Come in before someone sees you trying to grovel in the hallway again.”

Then there was the playlist. You got the link in the middle of the night. No message. Just: “this made me think of you.”

You clicked it. The first track? “Can’t Help Falling in Love.” You almost laughed. Almost cried.

Especially when halfway through the playlist, he added a recording of himself—talking to the mic like he was on a voicemail.

“...I know you probably think this is dumb. But this is me trying. I don’t know how to do the big, movie-style thing. I just know I miss you. And I never stopped. I’m just… really late. I’m sorry I didn’t start chasing sooner. I thought I had time.”

Your chest ached. Because it was clumsy. And painfully Mingyu.

Then there was the time he showed up with flowers—comically too large for the vase you didn’t even own—and got stung by a bee in the process of picking them because he insisted they were from “the nice tree you always point at during spring.”

You had to ice his hand and scold him for being reckless. He grinned the whole time. Even as it throbbed.

Because he got to be near you again. And he didn’t mind pain if it meant earning your trust back.

It wasn’t a smooth comeback. But you could see it in his eyes now. He wasn’t just sorry. He was scared. He was hopeful. He was learning what it meant to chase with your whole heart.

And slowly… you started to run toward him too.

It didn’t happen during a grand gesture. It wasn’t some sudden, cinematic confession under pouring rain or in the middle of a crowd.

It was quiet. It was slow. It was Mingyu.

You were cleaning up after a group dinner. The others had gone home already, the dishes were half-done, and music played faintly from your phone in the corner. He was drying plates beside you. Shoulder brushing yours. Humming off-key to some song neither of you had heard in months.

You laughed when he dropped a spoon for the third time.

He whined dramatically. “Why are spoons so slippery?”

“Why are you so useless in kitchens?”

He gasped. “Excuse me, I was being a very helpful dish elf.”

“More like a dish hazard.”

“You wound me.”

You grinned, flicked water at him. He retaliated with a soap bubble to your cheek.

And then— your laughter slowed. So did his.

You looked up. And he was already watching you. Eyes soft. Like he was memorizing the exact shade of your smile.

“Hey,” he said, voice low.

You blinked. “Yeah?”

He set the towel down. Hands suddenly unsure. “Can I—” he hesitated. “Can I say something stupid?”

You arched a brow. “Since when has that ever stopped you?”

He huffed a laugh. But his gaze didn’t leave yours. “I think I loved you back the whole time,” he said. “I just didn’t know what to do with it.”

You froze. His voice—so steady, so raw—barely broke over the words.

“I thought if I didn’t say it, it wouldn’t be real. Or I wouldn’t lose it. But I was losing you anyway. And I hated it. I hated seeing you with anyone else, hated that I never tried when you gave me everything. And I don’t want to be that guy anymore.”

Silence. He stepped closer. One hand reaching—slowly, giving you space.

“I want to be the one who chases now. And if it’s not too late, I want to catch up to you.”

You stared at him. Eyes burning. “Mingyu—”

“I mean it,” he said, soft. “I love you.”

And this time? He didn’t flinch saying it. He didn’t take it back. He just stood there, heart wide open. You stepped forward. Wrapped your arms around his waist. Buried your face in his chest as his arms folded around you like second nature.

“You’re late,” you whispered.

“I know,” he murmured into your hair. “But I’m here now.”

And just like that—after all the times you confessed first— after every whispered “I love you” thrown into the dark—he finally said it back. And this time?

You didn’t have to chase him anymore. He was already right beside you.

#HURT MY SOUL THIS WAS SO BEAUTIFUL #god i missed kim mingyu #been ignoring svt for so long this hurt extra bad #svt rbgs

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