ㅤᴅᴏᴏʀ ⋮ C11

For someone who’s experienced such luxury, opulence in every corner of her life, stitched into her breath as if it were the air, she thinks there’s nothing quite like the taste of the man she loves. He’s everything all at once, an untamed force that gives and gives, like he has an abundance of himself. Jongin is everything intoxicating in the most addictive way. Chaeyoung thinks it’d be cruel of him to part at any moment—she’s to make up for lost time. Lips move languidly, willingly overwhelming herself with the velvety touch of his lips, the way he touches, the resolute love she feels spilling past and breaking down any inhibitions. It’s perfect, until he breaks away and for the moment, Chaeyoung almost feels a whine slipping past her lips as her legs come into contact with the harsh coldness of the dresser, until he presses their foreheads together and the complaint immediately fizzles away. Until, panic floods over his face and the gears in her mind shift, turn and rush into overdrive as she realizes that he’s in pain. It feels like a bucket of cold water is dumped on her head, and with trembling legs she dashes around the room, knowing fully well that he /has/ to have his inhaler lying around somewhere. Hands frantically pat at his bed, his desk, until she dumps over his book bag and the inhaler tumbles out of the cavity. With almost a sob of relief, she swipes it from the bed and shoves it into his hands, her own clutching at his shirt desperately. It’s not like she was unaware of his asthma, nor had she foregone the experience of watching him have one. It’s just that it always shook her to the core when he did, always struck deep fear within her as she watched her friend, best friend, now lover, grasp desperately at what little air he could get.

Perhaps, it had taken a tribulation for him to grasp, just how much love she came to harbour for him. Just how much might've translated from her unconditional affections to settle into a desire, far too ardent to contain within small frame. For she kissed him, as though she hadn't seen him in years and he was certain she'd never been this unfaltering about anything. Triggered by a mere apprehension of the nature of his feelings, her heart had begun beating simultaneously with his own, pounding a familiar rhythm only he knew of. a deep-rooted exchange perhaps to make up for lost time, when they were far too naive to rid themselves of said torture. He could feel her ardour with every touch, basking in the succour of her very presence. Only, the prolonged heat of their kiss had soon knocked the air out of his lungs, forced to pull away from what felt like concrete pouring into his airways. "Ro-" He called out breathlessly, gasping for anything to hinder the attack he knew was coming. Swiftly, an abrupt strain had crept its way into his muscles, frailty accompanying the loss of oxygen in his chest. Hence, Jongin had no choice but to place her down on the edge of the dresser, foreheads pressed together for the slightest bit of support as he patted his pockets for relief, an inhaler nowhere to be found. Panic-stricken and nearly dazed, a wheezing sound had started escaping his lips, eyes tightly shut in apparent pain.

Nothing could have prepared her for the blissful onslaught of reassurance against the insecurities that had woven themselves so poisonously throughout her life. Perhaps her first mistake was underestimating the affections he held for her, the way he loved so fiercely and zealously. Their efforts were infantile, unknowing and awkward as they came together to corrode the things of upsetting nature, heavy on their hearts. But she knows that with time, they’ll learn, grow together in a way that almost frightens her because the thought of being so dependent and reliant on someone feels like a jab at her capacity. And yet, love wanes away any doubt, her heart refusing to still itself as their lips come together in what feels like relentless explosives, something so cathartic and passionate that it holds her hostage in the most enticing way. Slender digits comb through unkempt threads as her legs lock around his waist, and as they’re brought closer together, their proximity nothing but a whisper in the wind, her fingers walk down from his hair to his jaw, cupping it in her palm to press in. It’s like a piece of a puzzle slots into its spot, and everything gears into motion. She can feel the adulation, the sickeningly sweet air intoxicating her as she drinks in everything that he has to offer: his heart, his love, and himself. She hopes that he can feel it too, how she pours everything that she is into the kiss, how she kisses just as passionately as she adores him. It’s a promise, that she’d hold him dear and love him until he takes her last breath, until she falls asleep with him in his mind until the end. She’d love him ardently, without regrets, without so much as an afterthought because he was all she needed. As much as her heart aches to pull away, her lips ghost his and she’s murmuring out the words before they even register through her mind. “I love you. I love you so much, Jongin.”

He was as a matter of fact, quite fatigued. Thoroughly spent from a rollercoaster of emotions they'd been undergoing since they moved in together. Be it him or her, trouble just seems to find them and they haven't yet learnt how to overcome it together. Keyword, together. For as close as they are, underlying issues don't exactly heed quite much, rooted bonds in the face of what they've been using to cope. Six years of friendship and yet defence mechanisms still come between them, each one of them mentally distraught over the other. Completely terrified of losing them though they're unable to cease the profound urge to defend themselves, no matter their position. He wanted to be angry with her. He was. But how could he remain so when he defended himself the same way she'd done before? With more temper, more entitlement to his speech. At least she was in his arms, not dead in a ditch or black dalhia'd, to say the least. She was nestled in the shelter of his embrace, apologizing for feeling the way she'd felt and perhaps, continues to feel. and Jongin listens to her, he listens. For he truly never wished to fight. never wished to witness tears streaming down her cheeks or think of how cold she'll be without him to proffer her equilibrium. It's then that guilt begins to brew in the pit of his stomach, albeit he couldn't have known, had she not chosen to tell him. "Look at me." he husks out, pulling her back just enough to allow his eyes to speak for him. "I have been in love with you for six years. If anyone knows you well and loves every single bit of you, it's me. You are not useless. You've said it yourself. You studied so hard and you tried with everything you could. That's enough, baby. Most people don't even try when they have the capability of passing without doing anything. Yes, you've had a good childhood, you were provided with a lot but that doesn't mean that you're nothing without it, Rosie. You're a lot more than your parents' money and labels. You're a lot more than any stupid views you have on yourself. You're you. and I love you. I love you for everything that you are." Resolutely, he reassures, caressing the expanse of her cheek with a delicate touch. It sort of hurt him, he couldn't lie. to think she had such destructive thoughts and he only served to worsen them. He wanted to do nothing but hold her, show her just how wrong she is about herself when words come short and his only reassurment is a soothing kiss, palms pressed upon her hips to lift her up to him. To the wall of stability that he is for her, to the security of his very presence against her frame.

It's all anger built up in her until she can see the exhaustion emanating off of him in waves. His shoulders aren't the usual broad and squared that they are. His voice wasn't the usual upheld and steady tone that it was. Chaeyoung realizes, that even through her hurt and frustration, she had done more to him that he to her. It wasn't fair to him, that she had upped and disappeared, played with his feelings for years, left him hanging and took from him like it was her hobby. Teeth seize her bottom lip in an attempt to stop herself from saying anything upsetting, her heart pounding in her chest because displeasure still brews in her heart, and yet she tries to will it away with every fiber of her being. Instead of retaliating, she encases him in her arms, thin limbs coming around his waist slowly, curling around him like they usually did. She holds him close, pressing her cheek to his chest. It feels like home, no matter the tension in the air. "I'm sorry." It takes a few moments, but after leveling her breath and her heart slows to its steady beat, she speaks up again. "I never told you guys, but I should have. Growing up I felt like I needed to prove myself constantly." Thinking back to it now, she supposes it wasn't a feeling she could have overcome until she had aged. "I always felt like my parents' name was the reason why I had everything going for me, like no matter how much I tried or how much I studied, ultimately I was just.. useless without it. I guess it was an irrational fear, that at some point in my life, I'd become useless or just, nothing, because I had relied too heavily on my parents. Who weren't even there. So what would it all be for?" At this point she's out of breath, but her voice trails off at the end and anyone would be able to tell the scars of her heart have been torn open and healed over and over. "I'm sorry. I should have told you."

'I knew you were going to be mad' she admits. Yet, she'd done it anyway. She knew he'd be worried sick to his core, notably after the murder season where his fear of losing her had intensified. yet she couldn't be bothered to let him know she was okay. He didn't mind space, he needed his own space at times. It's the part where she dropped off the radar which still perturbs him. See, that's where they're different. He wasn't aware of it when he'd gone 'missing'. He didn't stop to think "oh Rosie is gonna be worried." he was intoxicated, completely insentient to the consequences of his actions. Clearly, she was not. It only incenses him more when she questions the Impartiality of his temper. For he had yet to hear what could've driven her to do such a thing. What evoked the 'hurt' she spoke of. And here she was, comparing the time where he left to this. when she should be explaining herself. "I don't wanna hear it, chaeyoung," he utters between gritted teeth, averting his gaze back to her to emphasize the solidity of his statment. 'you're not a doormat' she tells him, which he believes up until she treats him like one in the next sentence that comes out of . "Listen to yourself. I still have no idea what I did for this to be unfair. what I did that you need to 'forget'." all he could think of were playful remarks they'd thrown at each other countless of times before, him being the usual victim of it. nothing made sense. Exhaling a deep sigh, Jongin reaches a hand up to rub at his eyes, an attempt to contain his anger, for he didn't wish to say anything he didn't mean. "look, I'm tired, I don't wanna fight. just tell me what's wrong."

"I didn't say I wanted you to hug me and say you're glad I'm back. I didn't expect you not to be mad. I knew you were going to be mad." But she had done it anyway, and a part of herself continues to yell, to just apologize and say it'll never happen again. Fighting has never been Chaeyoung's forte. She was weak, an emotional person who let her tears talk more than she could when there was anything mildly upsetting. Even now, faced with Jongin who seemed so infuriated, it makes her will wane enough that she winces. "You're not a doormat." Except this time her voice trembles, because she wonders just how much she's hurt Jongin to have him feel so abandoned and used. Abandonment. She'd never wish that upon anyone. But she's also reminded of the stinging hurt she felt yesterday night, the days of torment she'd subjected herself to feeling like a fresh memory rather than her past. Yesterday had been the salt in the would that never should have happened, and she can't help but feel like she should be saying something, anything to justify her disappearance. Building up enough courage but lacking the confidence to say it without a wavering voice, she practically marches to Jongin, eyes both determined and afraid. "I know you were worried, cause I was worried when you left too! I left because I was hurt, a-and I needed space and I'm sorry that I sound like a hypocrite but frankly I-I don't think it's fair! You don't think I wanted to come home and forget everything happened?" Because she had always opened her heart for him, and yet it felt like he had toiled so much for her. It wasn't fair, because the guilt was eating away at her heart but anger clouds her judgement.

He couldn’t help feeling a bit taken for granted at the sound of her words. They had only suggested her high expectations of him, her beliefs that she could just vanish and comeback whenever she pleases, that he’d unconditionally take her in his arms regardless of anything. Now, he does love her like that, he does. But the way she spoke sort of puts the blame on him. And he wasn’t about to tolerate being in the dark when she was the one to preach about healthy coping mechanisms and telling each other everything. If he’d allowed this to pass, who’s to say she won’t randomly disappear whenever something mildly bad occurs? Who’s to say he won’t be left worrying like a fool just for her to waltz in hours later like nothing happened? It’s infuriating. And he was more than infuriated. Thus, he turns to her, a hand still clutching the chair to anchor him. “And you expect me to what, act like nothing happened? You can’t just ing up and leave rose. what am i, a goddamn doormat? Am I supposed to just hug you and say im glad youre back? I am but ing hell, I’m mad. I was worried out of my mind and you just walk in all ‘im back now’” You could hear the hurt in his tone, see it in his eyes which bore into her smaller, stubborn frame.

She can't think. All that registers in her mind is that it hurts. Words sink like talons into her heart, clawing at her from the inside and out until the prickling of sorrow begins to collect in her eyes, nearly spilling over just at the bitterness that seems to exude from his entire being. An entire bedroom to herself? They hadn't slept apart from each other ever since they had practically held each other and professed their love for one another that one night. She'd grown too accustomed to having his warmth, his arms around her, secure and loving and so comfortable. And he wanted to take it from her, because she refused him the comfort of her whereabouts for a day. The days that she's been there for him, caring for him, looking for him and consoling him--suddenly she feels like a fool. The tears almost spill over and frustration builds, almost as much as sorrow does in her heart. “No. I don’t wanna.” She plants her feet to the floor with faux confidence, but with all the stubbornness she holds in her heart. “I had time. I’m back now, aren’t I?”

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He couldn’t discern what could have possibly triggered such a reaction from her. What had he done wrong? To deserve being kept up all night, more than 22 hours pacing around the apartment and trying her phone. It felt an awful lot like some sort of sick revenge on him. To show him just how much he’d hurt her then. However, it also angered him. For he was under the influence of alcohol at the time and had a good reason to be. He couldn’t comprehend what she needed space or time from. Still, he went along, biting the insides of his cheek before he mutters. “Then go ahead, take some more time. You have an entire bedroom to yourself.”

His words cut through her heart deep enough to feel the pain for the next stinging moments, and once again closes up and she's unable to say anything. So many words jumble in her mind, tangling and mingling until she feels defeat weigh in heavy, her shoulders sinking because it seems like for every high, they hit rock bottom. Swallowing both guilt and heartache away as she sinks her fingers into the fleshy palms of her hands. Chaeyoung can't seem to recall how long it's been since he's spoken, but when she finally manages to speak, her eyes can only focus on his hands, too afraid and riddled with guilt to meet his eyes. "Don't.. I just, needed time."

It is foreseen, the footfalls which follow him like his own shadow. it wasn’t as though she was gonna sit on the couch and contemplate her actions, the very same actions she’d almost bruised his chest for. It’s ironic, really. For she’d known, just how selfish it is. Just how worrying and painful it is, to sit and wait on someone who couldn’t even bother to keep their phone on. She takes a hit at his heart instead, to stand infront of him and shed a few tears so he crumbles like he usually does and instantly forgives her. He sees it coming, eyes fixated on the door handle which really, opens not a moment after. “Congratulations, you showed up.” He utters, refusing to exchange any sort of eye contact with her as he clutches the top of the dresser’s chair. “Want a medal or something?”

She supposes it should have been expected. She disappeared without saying a word, without contacting him, just as he did weeks ago. Thinking about it now, Chaeyoung remembers the way horror settled deep into her chest, riddled with worry and guilt. It's with saddened eyes that she watches his retreating figure, and suddenly the silence is so deafening that all she can do is stand there and let it tear away. What feels like a century passes by in seconds and Chaeyoung decides she has to do something, the way his eyes seemed so empty haunting her thoughts. It weighs heavy on her heart as she pushes the door open to his room, eyes downcast as she stands in the doorway. Her voice is stuck in , and for a moment she's unable to say anything, except his name. "Jongin.."

a half emptied bottle of vodka sits on the coffee table, giving a clear indication to the contents of the glass he has in hand. he hears the chime of the door. Yet, he doesn’t move a muscle. He doesn’t bother to get up and face her, nor does he call out to her. Instead, he waits for her to come in. Sight trained on the door with no particular emotion in his orbs. He watches, downing the glass which he quickly sets on the table by the time she finally makes an entrance. It doesn’t take him a moment to meet her eyes, though the brevity of it is rather dismissive, it carries a sort of concealed anger, similar to the exit he makes from the living room and into his bedroom.

Upon entering the apartment, the chime of the door rings in her ears, and from the way the lights have been as she bends down to unstrap her heels, she knows Jongin is home. She'll probably be chewed out, yelled at, frowned at--but she's tired and she just hopes he'll hold her without uttering a word. She begins to drag her feet through the entrance, staring at the furniture with dazed and tired eyes.

She needn’t ask such thing of him, not when It had been practically a second nature for him to encase her in his arms, a hum reminiscent of a familiar lullaby slipping past parted lips each night to ease her into slumber. Tonight was no exception, for they were in his bed yet again, a mix of their scents embedded in the sheets and pillows to be a proof of their intimacy whilst he slips under the covers, tugging her to rest on his chest. Goodnight, baby girl. He whispers, only inclining his head to meet her lips in a tender kiss.

using both hands to tug jongin into the apartment, she begins to walk backwards through the hallways after toeing off her shoes, toward the room she’s become so familiar with. she crawls into the bed, opening her arms out for jongin. “cuddle me.”

@❛ jongin kim。 Having Jongin like this, holding him within her arms with such intimacy, such closeness that she never thought would be a plausible outcome for the two of them, it makes her wonder just how many years she could have forgone being drowned in her own sorrows. Jongin was like a breath of fresh air, of spring and flowers, of light and everything good that had managed to push her through the emotional turmoil she’d often bring upon herself. He was there, constant; he was hers.

If time were to permit it, she’d freeze each click and suspend them here forever. But reality tears the veil away and worry immediately permeates the previously amorous atmosphere. Clearly distraught by the pain evident on his face, Chaeyoung huffs quietly even as she receives each kiss, eager to return the favor with soft pecks to his lips of her own. “You did get a bit excited.” She laughs so breathy and airy that it’s almost surprising to her, but as she brings the man down for yet another kiss, her thoughts slowly ebb away and turn to nothing but adoration. “I can’t let that happen now, can I?” She runs her fingers up his arms, remaining careful so as to not touch his wound or fester with it. “You’re so dumb for not being careful about this. I worry about it, you know?”

@❛ chaeyoung park。 a sensual incandescence befalls the aura their interwoven bodies had emanated, so far removed from all it had been minutes prior. Jongin swiftly seizes ascendance of their kiss, shifting as to get on top of her with not a single moment of detachment between their lips. How could he? how could he stop kissing her when it's all he'd thought of every time he'd seen her? how could he? when every time he brushes past her lips, he's mesmerized with the softness, the sublimity of her cupid's bow, the all too familiar intimacy he could never deny himself from now on. It's phenomenal, everything about her is. From the way she puckers her lips when shes concentrated, to the way she speaks Japanese in her sleep. It's stunning; for she's unaware of it. oblivious to how much restraint it takes for him not to call her beautiful every hour. Not to show too much amazement every time she asks his opinion on an outfit.

It's only when pain had shot up his arm, did he pull away from the sensuous dance of their kiss, pressing his forehead against hers whilst pearly whites sink into the flesh of his lower lip. "I think I got a bit too excited." the male emits a small, breathless laugh, leaning in once more, only to pepper kisses across the expanse of her cheek, reaching the tip of her nose before settling on a peck upon her lips. "my heart is about to burst," he whispers to her, sensing her throbbing heartbeat against his own pounding one.

@❛ jongin kim。 She can hear the shock practically saturated in his tone, and for the brief moment that thoughts run overdrive through her mind, Chaeyoung wonders just how long he’s had to endure pain for her words to surprise him to this extent. It seems like he’s almost at a loss, like he’s unbelieving of her feelings and her words, like she’s playing a sick and twisted game. But her heart fills and Chaeyoung thinks there’s nothing quite as beautiful as the anxiety and pain ebbing away like it does in this moment. He looks the same but different, same because he’s always been the Jongin that she’s loved. Different, because she finally notices that his gaze is something of love, of romantic love that she’s never taken the time to differentiate from the platonic feelings she assumed he had harbored.

She loves him. She loves all of him, all the good and all the bad. From the way he’d skip class, to the way he’d drop anything and everything if she’d asked him to. Before she can even register the brevity of their intimate moment, his lips are on hers and the puzzle piece she felt had been missing from her life for so long, suddenly shifts into its place. The world seems to tilt on its axis, spinning so fast and hard that all she can do is loop her arms around his neck, melting into his embrace as she takes in the taste of his lips. It’s laced with sweetness, spice, a kind of distinctly Jongin taste that she hopes she’ll get to experience on the daily, at any given moment in the day. Something about it is familiar, like she’d done this before, and although Chaeyoung knows that in an inebriated state they’d shared more than enough intimate moments like this, she hopes they can move past needing liquid courage coursing through their veins to kiss like this. Curling loose strands of his hair around one of her fingers, she pushes in closer until her body is flat against his, pressed into the bed until he’s surrounding her in every sense.

@❛ chaeyoung park。 It utterly baffles him, how he crumbles completely when she cries. The vulnerability, the frailty apparent in his eyes. It baffles him; for he could gaze down at the tears tainting her exquisiteness and think 'i'll do anything to make you happy.' He could gaze down and forgive her for every ounce of hurt she'd subjected him to. Every ounce of uncertainty she'd immersed within his soul. Perhaps he was foolish. Senseless. Far too altruistic. but he couldn't bear the thought of living a day away from her. Not when all he'd done was in hopes of staying in her life.

It is why, when she responds to him with an equally emotional 'you could never lose me' a saddened simper quirks upon the curvature of his lips, more thankful than anything for the promise of her everlasting friendship. Yet, not a moment after, the simper is washed off, supplanted with an expression of vast astoundment. "what." Jongin mumbles under his breath, quite frankly unable to grasp her words. Those which she repeats over and over, confirming her absolute certainty in what she feels for him. And for the millionth time, his breath is stuck somewhere in his airways, no words escaping his mouth. That which he parts several times, tongue-tied with a tight knit in his brows. "You - love me." both as a question and as a matter of fact, he quotes her words. a breathless exhale somehow slipping his throat. "you love me." he repeats, far more firm this time. It's only when he senses the familiar taste of her lips on his own, does he realize that his urges had gotten the best of him, erasing whatever gap left between them to kiss her, at last, in complete sobriety.

@❛ jongin kim。 closes up and for once in her life, Chaeyoung feels like she doesn’t know what to say. She’s scrambling for answers, hands desperately reaching out, grasping for anything and everything as she falls deeper into what feels like an endless pit. Just looking upon his face, the seemingly insurmountable pain that she’s subjected him to, the way his eyes seem to dictate a kind of hurt that she’s never quite seen in them before—it feels like her breath has been swiped, robbed from her. The years that he’s had to repress his feelings for fear of losing friendship, she could never imagine it.

Emotions seem to get the better of her, tears rolling down her cheeks in rivulets because her chest tightens, suffocating her until she somehow manages to choke out a lame response. “Jongin,” His name feels like a saving grace. She thinks he looks so beautiful in this light, in the midst of terror, in the midst of uncertainty, in a time of their lives when everything seemed to turn wayward. Chaeyoung’s lived a constantly fragile life, and yet he was her constant; he was her rock, her foundation. How could she not have known? Her heart weighs heavy and Chaeyoung wipes her tears away with a shaky hand, voice almost broken as she somehow manages to whisper, “You could never lose me. Never.” She sees the pain again, and for a moment she thinks regret flashes over his face. she couldn’t let it happen again. “I love you.” It’s small, timid, weak and uncharacteristic of her when they usually conversed, but it’s there. “I love you. I love you, I love you.”

@❛ chaeyoung park。 it's maddening, to say the least. The constant string of ambiguous responses. The ability to be so vague, that you unknowingly lead someone on for more than 6 years. That you still, even when they concede, somehow refrain from both accepting and rejecting. It's onerous, to feign stoicism when several acts aday make you question everything. She'd broken his dam, so carelessly retaining hold of him even as his words spill and inundate the air with the very emotions he'd repressed for years. It's reassuring, yet perplexing at the same time. the tears which well up in her eyes. Just why would she be crying? best case scenario, she'd been waiting for him to confess. Or, she'd been in love with him too. He holds onto such hope for the first couple seconds. Until all she does is ask why he hadn't told her.

Sure, all the signs indicate that she doesn't return his feelings but a part of him wanted to hear it; wanted to get a clear answer for once. "does it matter?" he utters, a palm of his reaching to rest upon her own, going in one of two possible ways. he could hold it. or he could push it away. all relying on one single answer she gives. "I was scared, I didn't wanna lose you." By that point, Jongin had started regretting opening his heart to her. he wished to take it back. to rid himself of said feelings unbeknownst to her. It had started to hurt all over again. "just tell me for once, how you really feel about me, roseanne."

@❛ lalisa manoban。 He was never one for impulsivity. Never one to act on a whim without proper thinking prior to his actions. A careful planner, with a clear mind and unyielding apprehension to all that he desires. Then she came, to induce nervousness in his system, to leave his mind in utter disarray. impetuously advancing, his train of thoughts contains no clear signs of anything but what's in front of him, the present in which she's nestled in his arms, rapture emanating from her very aura. Something about it felt more than right. more than anything he could be certain of. and he was more than ready. to give her the world. to give her all of himself. to look at her and see everything he could never regret. to kiss her and feel an utmost fulfilment within the depth of his chest. and so he does. he kisses her, on a whim. with no repentance to infiltrate his heart. For this was perhaps, the most pleasant impulsivity.

for the moments of silence, a million thoughts a minute seem to run through her mind like a marathon. it’s like there’s a train on a hellish loop, with no stop and no brakes. her heart begins to this against her rib cage, anxiety eating away at her as she begins to submerge herself in thoughts she realized had been brewing within her for years. what if jongin never truly valued her friendship? what if he thought she was a nuisance, a child, someone to take care of? what if he had just been brewing with anger and at this point he had had enough? what if he was going to leave her? the thought of living a life without jongin in it makes her feel a sickening pain in her chest, a grotesquely overwhelming curl in the pit of her stomach that makes her realize the pivotal role her best friend had played.

best friend. two words she thought he’d always be. a brother, a familial relation she thought he’d always be. and yet when she repeats it in her mind, it feels wrong. the past few weeks and the instances of how he seemed to distance himself from her, how the girls seemed to constantly badger her about his “affections” for her; it didn’t feel wrong. strange, but not wrong. and not strange in a way that she wished away. but chaeyoung feels uncertainty in her chest, pulling at her mind because the silence is deafening.

it’s only when he speaks, words rushing past his lips so fast and so articulated, in the charismatic way that he’d typically always do. and yet, something about him seems so vulnerable. what she recognizes as years of turmoil and pent up emotions spills over to her realizations and her heart aches, because she had been the one to put her friend through so much pain, so much torture.

words choke up in , his words finally setting themselves deep in her foundation, sinking its claws in until she feels it resonate within her ears over and over. jongin is in love with her. in love with her. with /her/. before she can even draw any words from , tears well up in her eyes, induced by the apologetic heart she holds for tormenting him for so many years, for holding him captive like she was playing a game. “h-how come you never told me? why did you wait so long?” it’s all she can utter, eyes meeting the ones that she grew to love and cherish deeply so. she reaches out, holding his face in her hands as she stands on her knees, pulling closer until their proximity is nearly diminished. “you never told me...”

he could kiss her, save himself the distress of forming words. save himself from an explanation she so desperately demanded from him. But, it didn’t seem fair. It was risky, too risky that he couldn’t tell if she’d want to kiss him back. If she’d forgive him for withholding the truth all these years in fear of rocking the boat. If she’d see him in a different light and he couldn’t stand the thought. To lose the warmth she so generously gives everyday. To lose the friendship, the love she so unconditionally provides him at all times. However, he’d already taken the first step and there was no coming back now. Reluctant, his brows knit in an attempt to get a grip on a single thought in his fuzzy mind, inhaling a sharp breath before he starts. “I’m in love with you, rosie.” With that, he shifts to his side, fully facing her not to leave anything up to personal interpretation. “I’m honestly, truly, completely in love with you and i just can’t hide it anymore. I’ve been here, witness to all the guys who broke your heart, who did nothing to deserve you nor your love. i’ve been here, listening to you tell me how lucky anyone would be to have me, how i deserve so much and yet you never stopped to think that maybe i dont want anyone but you, that maybe youre the one i deserve, the only one who ing sees me as who i am and not who she wants me to be. that maybe ive been biting my tongue and going out of my mind everytime you so mindlessly kiss me drunk or sit on my lap like its the most normal, platonic thing people do. I love you rosie, i cant pretend that i dont anymore. I cant lie to your face, every single day and tell you that you’re my bestfriend and nothing more.” Utterly breathless, he exhales, panting while his pained onyxes rapidly bore into hers.

There's a look in his eyes that seem to reveal more than what he's offered, and Chaeyoung wonders why. She had hoped she was trustworthy enough, a good enough and loving enough figure in his life that he wouldn't feel inhibitions when speaking to her. She frowns at the way his voice seems to thicken, to tighten. With a guiding hand, she presses her palm to his cheeks to meet typically expressive eyes, ones that seem so tortured at the moment. "What is it? You know you can trust me with anything, right?"

It was only when she’d met his eyes with such softness in the depth of her orbs, did he realize; she’s his very personal 505. simultaneously keeping him alive and killing him. Her proximity’s torture and solace, desired yet hurtful. and Jongin watched her, words falling short of anything efficient. He watched her, until his chest ached with the repressed feelings he’d harbored for her. Thus, the male averts his gaze, swallowing the lump which formed in his throat to finally confess. “I haven’t been honest with you. For a long time.”

@❛ yugyeom kim。 There was a tinge of timidity laced in the woman’s smile, with the way that she carried herself around him. It was a tinge—an ounce, barely palpable as to overwhelm the confidence she exudes, however just enough for her to realize that her heart skipped a beat or palpitated too quickly in his presence. Perhaps it was the way he looked at her, or the way that his strong arms lifted her with ease. Perhaps it was the cadence of his voice when he’d greet her, the coruscation of returned adoration in his eyes when he’d smile at her. She didn’t know. But she chose not to fret over this unusual diffidence, instead relishing in this moment, relishing in his arms, as she’s pressing a kiss upon the tip of his nose. “Hi, Yugyeom.”