PHONING... Caf Au Lait.

PHONING... 𓂃 ࣪˖ Café au lait.

A new face visiting your favorite café haunts you for days afterward as you imagine what could have been if you’d said anything. Little did you know that he was experiencing just the same.

જ⁀➴♡ wc 2k ✧ fluff

There was this man who drove you crazy— a man that you knew absolutely nothing about aside from the way his eyes widened behind the rims of his glasses and the dimples he had when he smiled at you.

This man who drove you absolutely mad, to think he saw you— as his eyes passed over you and if only there had been some small mishap in that pivotal moment.

A spilled drink, a stumble through the door—his hand reaching out to steady you and it would have happened.

In the perfect world in your mind, it happened.

And in this perfect world, a whole new world would have opened up like a vortex to swallow you both into blissful delirium. The smile he gave you would be one of pure love and in that moment, in his mind, everything had clicked— you were the one he could never let get away.

But that didn’t happen. Instead, you turned away, out of shyness or indecision and by the time you turned back to stutter out an introduction, he was gone.

The first and only time you had ran into him, you were in a rush to leave carrying a tray of drinks for you and your friend as your phone continued to buzz in your pocket with questions of your whereabouts.

Barely holding onto the tray in your arms, one side tucked under your chin for extra protection you reached into your pocket to check the screen.

(11:35 AM) Na-gyung ♡: Tourney starting soon!!

There, stumbling about in frustration as you attempted to unlock your phone, you failed to realize the tall figure walking directly towards you.

Instead of the two of you walking into each other and causing a head-on collision outside of this quiet cafe, the worker behind the counter quickly took notice of the impending incident and cheerfully called out a warning.

The two of you looked up from your phones, startled and locked eyes standing right in front of each other.

His eyes cast down towards you and he gave you a small smile, weaving around you with a quick apology as he made his way to the counter to place his order.

His eyes kind behind thick rimmed glasses, you somehow had decided in that moment that those eyes were the ones that you wanted to wake up to every morning.

How ridiculous you were to believe in love at first sight.

Unlike him, you stood for a moment mentally cursing at yourself for almost running into him. And then mentally screaming at yourself for how attractive you found him.

Berating yourself for how desperately you wished that worker was instead focusing on the bubbling foam in their hands rather than the chime of the bell.

Later that day, you tried to explain the encounter to Na-gyung as she gave you a small laugh and a dismissive wave of her hand while reaching for her coffee.

“Sounds like you missed your ideal man… sorry! That’s a bummer, Y/N. But hey, at least you have your café au lait.”

There was no way to explain it without sounding completely unsound, you were sure of that as she put her headphones back over her head with a laugh and straightened her back, focusing her energy to the game she was playing for.

Too distracted by the man you had seen then, you sat back and watched the colors flashing on her monitor, mind drowning out the chatter around the both of you.

There was no way to explain it and yet, it was all you thought about.

That click you felt when your eyes met his, like the switch of a train track, transporting you for one miraculous moment, to what could have been.

Even though the ride to the convention hall had you drowning in imaginary scenarios with this man you knew nothing about, wondering if it was some sort of cosmic sign— reality was quick to intervene and with a shake of your head, you told yourself to stop chasing shadows.

Thoughts of him popped up every now and then, passing faces on the street that seemed the slightest bit familiar had you turning back.

You wondered if he had thought about you too, conveniently giving yourself an excuse to wonder about him more.

Giving yourself the benefit of the doubt and allowing yourself to imagine that this stranger had fallen as deeply into you as you had him.

You were sure what you felt was real— and you found yourself subconsciously always listening for that click.

Imagining it was the sound of your fate beckoning or somehow the voice of your destiny.

Eventually, you decided that it sometimes would only call once.

Meanwhile, Soobin leaned against the wall of the practice room, doing his best to steady his breathing after the intense choreography the group had to endure.

“Tired already?” Taehyun asked with a slight amusement to his voice. Soobin shot him a glare and he just laughed, patting him on the shoulder.

Yeonjun seemed relieved that their practice was over as he made his way to him, wiping some sweat off of his face.

“You’re not too tired to go out, are you?”

Soobin shot him a look as if to ask if he was insane, his heart beating out of his chest. The five of them had been practicing almost everyday between any scheduled appearances or meetings that they had, barely affording them any time to go out.

Normally, Soobin didn’t mind being busy as much using their fans as a source of encouragement or energy but these days he found himself growing a bit resentful at this busy schedule.

Not for any particular distaste for his job, he was forever grateful to be where he was and do something he was so passionate about.

It was because of you.

Whoever you were, that was. He’s seen thousands of faces, some more memorable than others but none as indelible as you.

The split second that he saw you, the bell chiming behind him as you both froze in front of each other at the call of caution.

The brief eye contact and the way your eyes widened as he gave you a small, awkward smile.

And though the moment happened in a flash, for him it felt as if time had frozen altogether and in that split second he had memorized every feature of yours a million times over.

He found himself thinking back to you, wanting to see you again for whatever strange reason.

Soobin had gone back to that cafe a few more times after that, never finding you but somehow always feeling as if he had just missed you.

The perpetual motion of a spinning ballerina trapped inside a music box.

The gentle tune of a piano, delicate fingers pressing down on every key.

A complete stranger who had made the most devastating impression on him simply from existing.

You were the zigzag in his straight line, something new thrown into his life to keep him on his toes.

The absence in his direction.

Anytime the bell would chime, any greetings called would fall on deaf ears as his eyes scanned the area only for him to be faced with the slight disappoint.

“Excuse me for asking but— you always seem like you’re looking for someone.” The girl behind the counter said hesitantly as she worked to make his drink.

Soobin looked up from his phone beside the counter, eyebrows raising a bit in surprise.

Then, his cheeks heated up with the embarrassment of being caught in the act of daydreaming.

“Sorry! I wasn’t trying to call you out or anything— actually, there’s this girl that comes here too around the same time so I was just wondering if…”

She paused, focusing on placing the top securely onto the cup.

Soobin opened his mouth to answer before a yelp sounded behind the girl, the boy behind her calling for as he quickly grabbed paper towels from under the counter.

“You— seriously, Jake?! The milk frother again?!”

The girl handed him his drink with a rushed apology behind spinning on her heel and going to help the boy who gave a nervous chuckle, standing back from the mess to let her take over cleaning.

Since then, Soobin had gone back whenever he had the time hoping that it was you.

Overtime, reality began to sink in as he found himself questioning why he had gone back in the first place.

If he saw you, what would he even say?

“Yo! Earth to Soobin,” Yeonjun shoulder checked the taller boy, successfully bringing him out of his fit of disassociation.

Beomgyu snickered, “he’s probably daydreaming again about cafe girl again.”

“Was not—” the defensive tone was clear to all of the guys as they shared knowing glances toward each other and Yeonjun just laughed as Soobin shrunk into himself.

Letting you slip up one day in a conversation with him, Beomgyu hadn’t let him live his infatuation down.

It wasn’t that he thought it was childish— even though they both knew it was, he was simply entertained to see Soobin so passionate about a stranger.

There was a few times Beomgyu had gone himself, searching the patrons for someone who fit Soobin’s description of you but none seemed quite perfect enough.

“Well, whether you were or not… I’m feeling like an iced americano. Why don’t we go to that cafe that you’re definitely not obsessed with?”

“Very smooth, Yeonjun.” Taehyun added.

That was how he found himself walking in, his members trailing behind him like some sort of posse.

The large cafe now felt much smaller and he began to realize just how much attention they had garnered being so close together.

The chime of the bell behind him went unnoticed as he engaged in conversation with his members tiredly, running a hand through his now freshly washed hair.

“I’m not saying that you’re an obsessed loser, what I am saying is—“

“Uh, Soobin—”

“I’m not obsessed, it’s just— actually, no. I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

“Have to? No. Do I want you to? Well, yes!”

“Soobin—”

“I gotta side with Beomgyu on this one, I never thought of you as some hopeless romantic, y’know? Your dedication is definitely cute, though.”

“What? I’m not— it’s not cute, it’s just… I don’t know how to explain it. It’s just—”

“Soobin—!”

Growing annoyed at his older friend’s bickering and blatant ignorance of him, Kai finally nudged Soobin to gain his attention and motioned toward the line they had previously occupied.

Begrudgingly, Soobin’s eyes trailed to where Kai had pointed only to freeze for a split moment.

And all over again, he remembered exactly what you were.

You were every turn taken when racing through a hedge maze, against the setting sun.

You were the tide that came in and out, like the breath of the wounded. The blood that flowed between his heart and head.

The book that was not yet written, the sentence that was not scripted.

You were the words he wished he could have said that day.

There tiredly rubbing your eyes, you gave your order and stepped aside with eyes cast down as you typed away at your phone unaware of the people around you.

Unaware or uninterested, he couldn’t tell. What he could tell was how exhausted you seemed, yet even in that state you were just as distracting as ever.

Maybe it was just because it was you.

And how you were standing there, in front of him. After slipping just out of reach so many times, he was finally looking at you again— and you were so, so beautiful.

All those times he thought about seeing you again, thinking over everything he could say and only coming up empty at the thought of your eyes alone.

Finally in front of him— no longer a sad reflection of a dream once lost, he realized why his heart had sent him to search for you in every street.

He realized he didn’t want to go a day without your smile. Without telling you things and hearing your voice back, no matter what you said.

Then, that first day searching for you had arrived and with it, the disappointment. It was so damn hard but the next was harder.

That sinking feeling of disappointment every time he had walked in was gone— it had gotten worse, and he was convinced he wasn't going to be okay for a very long time.

To experience all of this over a stranger, he was sure he had gone completely mad.

To lose you wasn’t an event— it didn’t happen once. It happened over and over again, every time he scanned for you in those walls only to come up with nothing but the lingering scent of your perfume.

He lost you every time his eyes trailed that familiar menu; knowing in his heart his order would never change.

Standing and studying it to buy some time as if that would somehow will you to appear behind him.

Whenever that one song he remembered from that day played on the cafe’s playlist, or when he would hear that bell chime all over again.

To lose you— to lose something that was never his in the first place.

But he wanted you to be. Without any rhyme or reason, he felt like he had to find you and never allow himself to grieve the loss of you again, if you would allow him to.

Always going back to that moment of brief eye contact and that ‘click’ he had heard in the back of his mind, as if all the gears in his heart stopped working— only for that split second.

He lost you every time he thought of kissing you, holding you, or wanting you.

Going to bed at night and wishing the two of you were walking down cobblestone streets instead, wishing you could tell him about your day.

Wishing he knew your name and aspirations, what small habits you had that he would grow to love like he had grew to love the scent of that cafe.

Simply for the fact that your memory— and in turn, you, existed within those walls.

“Order for Y/N?” The familiar voice of that one employee you never seemed to remember the name of— embarrassing, considering how often you had occupied the cafe— rang out and you paused your typing, looking up with a smile only to find someone else had grabbed your drink.

Your eyebrow quirked up in irritation, already exhausted from a long day as your eyes followed to see who dared to grab it out of your reach only for your heart to skip at the sight.

Those same glasses, that same smile.

Now he stood in front of you, holding out your drink of choice with that same small smile he gave you the first time you had ran into each other and you could have sworn you had seen the admiration you only dreamed of.

Maybe you weren’t crazy to believe in love at first sight, or maybe he was just as crazy as you were.

“Café au lait?”

જ⁀➴♡ phone in ᝰ.ᐟ

PHONING... 𓂃 ࣪˖ birthday.

Over the years, you’ve become jaded of your dream to find a love that would provide a home for your heart. One chance encounter is enough to change those days forever.

જ⁀➴♡ wc 2k ✧ fluff , huening kai x reader

As a child, you would drift in and out of libraries filled with dead poets and their musky scent. Pages upon pages filled with musings of love long lost, only immortalized on those pages that began to yellow and fade with time.

Most people found themself drawn to poems about love, searching for the words to describe what they all longed for— true romance.

Unlike them, you often found yourself fixating on the books that held the passage of time. Maybe there was something that the authors knew, something that would make it all make sense.

You held them in your hands and breathed them in wanting so much to be part of their world. To understand and learn from them— to find something to fight for.

The books told you one day your poetry would be whispered on the lips of your lover, that time would slow and all that would remain was your love.

It was within these pages that you found yourself believing that was the only thing time could never take away.

With this came the yearning and soon your birthday wishes were replaced with something of a much heavier weight.

Overtime, you grew to dislike your birthday. It wasn’t always like that, though.

One year you would love it, others you would hate it.

One thing that always remained was the feeling of loneliness, even while surrounded by people smiling and clapping.

Somehow your birthday felt excruciatingly long but never long enough.

The existential dread that would come with facing the fact you were getting older and empty self-made promises.

The ritual of blowing the candles, the cutting of the cake— the mess of cream and sponge in your mouth.

Always your favorite, never changing flavors overtime because who was it for, if not you?

The taste was sweet and familiar, like a newly formed wish, fashioned from all the ones you've made before.

Cake began to be the only thing you looked forward to as you got older, until eventually you stopped eating it altogether.

You don't remember the wishes you made in sequence or the things you ask for.

You only recall the ones you wanted the most, like the f/c scarf you saw in a shop’s display window when you were thirteen.

The admiration for how perfect the mannequin seemed to wear it, partnered with a perfectly coordinated outfit.

How deeply you yearned to wear it as flawlessly as it had, maybe then someone would see you and fall in love just how you did in that moment.

How deeply you felt its’ absence when you sat and stared at the litter of torn wrapping paper, empty new possessions littered around as you waited for the next one— only for it to never come.

And even though it was trivial to everyone else, your heart ached at its’ failing.

You found yourself wondering what the cause of such heartache was.

The books said that the greatest heartache came from loving another soul, beyond any doubt or reason.

It was with realizing this, you called yourself lucky to have never been in love with anyone as much as you’d been in love with that scarf.

As long as your love was directed towards the minuscule things, you would be safe.

Yet deep down, a part of you still yearned for someone to look at you and convince you to take that risk. So you would try over and over again, despite the promise of heartache, to find what you wanted.

To have someone to spend your birthday with.

After all, what was more poetic than one’s birthday?

A day spent celebrating your life and your future, reflecting on the past and wishing for your future.

Or facing the inevitable end, remembering your final destination.

And even though it wasn’t death you feared itself, the idea of facing it alone seemed devastating.

Your wishes always changed.

Like the year you turned fifteen and your best friend's mother got really sick.

Despite all the stories your friend had shared with you about their relationship, when you found her breaking down at the news: you felt that heartache again.

All you wanted was for her to be okay again.

It was that year you learned that shooting stars were either a blessing or a curse, depending on what you wanted to believe.

In your case, for that year, it seemed to be a curse.

On your seventeenth birthday, you found yourself falling in love for the first time. Or at least, you thought so in the moment.

Walking out of your front door anxiously fidgeting with the bottom of your shirt as you made your way to his car, only for him to meet you halfway.

Standing on the sidewalk where he brought you red roses and a promising smile.

“Happy birthday.” He said.

When he broke your heart, you cried for days.

Many birthdays came and went.

One by one, you loved them and just as easily, they were lost to you.

Somewhere amidst the carnations and mistletoe you slowly learned more about love than the books ever told.

Love was messy and almost unattainable. Love was seemingly temporary, but inevitably painful.

Little by little, your heart that was once a bouquet of hope and ecstasy blossomed into one of tenderness and betrayal.

You wondered if you would ever be able to shed that loneliness that came every year, always the same day.

Then you met him.

Your meeting was clumsy and unusual, just like him as he flashed you a friendly smile and uttered a quick apology.

You stood in the doorway with the box of a now crooked birthday cake, dumbfounded.

It wasn’t until he waved his hand in front of your face and asked if you were okay that you had snapped out of it.

“I’m… okay.” Your voice was hesitant, unsure of how to proceed.

Everything in your heart yelled at you to keep the conversation going— to say anything to keep him here, in this moment.

“I’m not so sure about my cake, though.”

Looking down to realize the cake that was once decorated with intricate roses and beautiful cursive lettering was now lopsided and smudged, he furrowed his eyebrows.

“We should fix that then.” And he smiled, signaling for you to follow him back into the bakery the two of you had collided in front of.

The two of you had waited in the line to the register to explain the situation and see if there was any hope for you to get a quick replacement.

A face straight out of a magazine, it was a miracle you hadn’t recognized him. Longing glances and the sound of whispers nearby should have tipped you off but to you, everything besides his voicr was simply white noise.

Holding your breath next to the handsome stranger, you found yourself hoping that the line would never move.

“Huening Kai, by the way.”

“Huh?”

“I said Huening Kai, that’s my name.” His voice was patient and even bubbly.

“Oh.” Was all you could say.

“I really hope your friends’ birthday doesn’t get ruined— I should have been watching where I was going, haha…” He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck and you found yourself falling further into his boyish charms.

You felt much younger than you were, that feeling of your heart fluttering you only felt once when that boy had given you roses.

How special he must have been to give you that simply by smiling.

“It’s… my birthday, actually.” It took you a moment to admit and he must have noticed with how he nodded.

“Well, I hope I didn’t ruin your birthday then.”

“It’s really no problem, I’m not doing much anyways so… there really isn’t any need for you to get me a replacement.”

Pulling back on the idea, he seemed to pick up on the slight embarrassment you had.

“It was a beautiful cake, but it’s fine. Really.”

“A beautiful cake for a beautiful girl, right?”

The blood rushed to your cheeks and you swore you could have stumbled over from how lightheaded you became. And he simply laughed, quickly apologizing for his teasing.

“Haha I’m sorry, I just don’t know your name.”

In that line you stood, dressed in a messy accumulation of whatever clothes you could find in a rush out of your apartment and your hair tussled about.

You certainly didn’t feel beautiful but you found yourself believing his words, despite it all. Maybe you were the tiniest bit hopeful.

“Huh? Oh, it’s Y/N…”

“Right. Happy birthday, Y/N!”

You weren’t sure if he knew it then but in that moment, all of those wasted birthdays seemed worth it because you had endured them to get to that moment.

The moment he came into your life, the best birthday gift you could ever ask for.

Without even knowing who he was prior, Huening Kai was the first man you fell in love with, completely and beyond reason, beyond any shadow of doubt you knew. You finally understood was the books spoke of.

He brought you dandelions each date.

You asked him why, if he thought they were pretty.

“They’re as pretty as you~” He’d joke.

The real reason, you later found out, was so you would never want for wishes.

Even on birthdays, he began to bring you that weed.

Somehow, you found the weed more romantic than any flowers you’d been given before simply for the meaning behind it.

A secret meaning just for the two of you.

It wasn’t a long time before the two of you had given yourselves to each other completely, jumping in head first.

It was your first birthday with him.

You never explained to him your distaste for your birthday but it didn’t stop him from encouraging the two of you to celebrate together.

Until then, it had always been the same every year. As soon as the first match was struck, the smell of burning takes you backward through your memory.

It stopped you right at that moment on that warm night, after your first heartbreak where you watched the first trickle of melting wax hit the icing and you found yourself crying for the love you thought you had lost.

Now there you were, the wax melting ever so slowly again, pouring down to deface the beautiful cake he had ordered for you. Combing through your memory, you tried to find something to wish for.

Something new or something old, it didn’t matter.

But you couldn't think of a single thing you had wanted— because he was standing there, in the lickering light, asking you to make a wish.

Messy blonde hair in his face as he leaned into his hoodie with that smile, the one you fell in love with had you holding your breath in the candlelight.

You looked deep into his eyes and saw the very best of yourself reflected back, all with love.

And you knew: he loved you, beyond reason, beyond doubt, and with no hope of salvation.

You knew your being happy was an anomaly and no one knew you better than he.

But for once, your resolve was firm and without avoiding his gaze, without crossing your fingers behind your back; or the other things you did when speaking untruthfully—you told him you were happy.

On your birthday, warm in the candlelight where your heart felt as if it were floating away.

The rain doesn’t discriminate between day or night and either will hold its own light and dark, you had learned over the years.

Through years of crying in bedroom closets, office cubicles and club bathrooms: the rain never discriminates.

You smiled nervously, feeling almost guilty for not having a wish. Despite this, you blew out the candles.

But as you went to confess your strange lack of want for anything materialistic or otherwise, he cut you off in that same playful voice.

“I love you, Y/N.”

And it was then you knew in your heart, you would always look back on that time-not without a sense of melancholy— that it was the happiest in your life.

Birthday or not, it didn’t matter anymore as long as you were with him.

After that, he never pressured you to celebrate again.

Some years the two of you had your cake and others, when your anxiety of mortality crept up on you, the two of you would treat it the same as any other day.

Of course it was the same as any other day but not without the extra caresses and gentle ‘I love you’s.

Kai hadn’t completely changed you or somehow healed that broken part of you by gifting you dandelions and pinky promises but that didn’t matter.

And now this was the year you were sure you would spend the rest of your lives together. The two of you had fallen completely in love, for the first and last time with each other.

This year where there weren't any candles— just the two of you walking late at night through the city streets with your heart in each other’s hands.

How thankful you were that you had given yourself to the first stranger who called you beautiful on your birthday.

જ⁀➴♡ phone in ᝰ.ᐟ

PHONING... 𓂃 ࣪˖ ID: TOMORROW X TOGETHER

genre key : (o) one-shot . fluff (f) . angst (a) . humor (h) . comfort (c) . (s) series . + personal favorites (♡)

CALLER ID: tomorrow x together.

✧ To All The Boys. (f) (a) (♡)

✧ Carnival. (f) (h) (c)

✧ seasons. (f) (c)

✧ the best of the best. (f) (c) (s)

✧ YELLOWJACKETS. (a) (h) (s) (♡)

CALLER ID: choi yeonjun.

✧ wave. (f)

✧ ghost town. (f) (a)

✧ sparks. (f)

✧ songs for you. (f)

✧ Beauty Rental Shop. (f) (h) (s) [WIP]

CALLER ID: choi soobin.

✧ Huge hearts and 52-hertz. (a) (c) (♡)

✧ Café au lait. (f)

✧ LOVE WAR!! (f) (h) (s) [WIP]

✧ Lovers’ Roulette. (f) (h) (s) [WIP]

CALLER ID: choi beomgyu.

✧ Jet lag. (f) (♡)

✧ strangers in the dark. (f) (a)

✧ Pearl. (f)

✧ 8-BIT STAR. (f) (h) (s) [WIP]

✧ LOVE WAR!! (f) (h) (s) [WIP]

✧ Dealer, NO DEALl! (f) (h) (s)

CALLER ID: kang taehyun.

✧ dead butterflies. (f) (♡)

✧ Something. (f)

✧ Break my heart again. (a)

✧ Calicos & Cinnamon. (f) (h) (s) [WIP]

CALLER ID: huening kai.

✧ birthday. (f) (c) (♡)

✧ 7 hours ago. (f)

✧ QUIET, PLEASE! (f) (h) (s) [WIP]

જ⁀➴♡ phone in ᝰ.ᐟ

PHONING... 𓂃 ࣪˖ To All The Boys.

Chronicles of the crumpled pages of poetry detailing past attempts at love can be found in the trash of your bedroom where you’re not a woman, but a girl instead. Through all the desperate yearning for love, only one flame was strong enough to make it out.

જ⁀➴♡ wc 2k ✧ angst , fluff , txt ot5 x reader

Dear Huening Kai,

I’m not really sure how to start this letter. I hope this finds you well seems devastatingly distant and cold, like I’m writing a business letter. I never wrote you a letter before, everything that we shared had been in the form of hushed whispers in the back of the classroom. Notes, surely I had written hundreds through the years. Eventually though, your desk no longer belonged to you and my notes found their place in the trash.

The final note, just as short as all the others had three words. I’m sure that you can guess what they were. My hands were clammy and the lettering was shaky but even still, I held that note close to my heart. I waited much longer than I should have— after the first week it should have been obvious that you weren’t returning to our sacred corner of the world.

I’m not sure why I’m writing this now after having crumpled that note away, hidden away inside of that class binder you’d scribbled on. The doodles made the both of us laugh in the moment but looking at them now just makes me miss our schooldays.

Anyways, these are the things that I want for you that I never got to tell you.

I want you to be happy. I want someone to know the warmth of your smile and to feel the way I did when I was in your presence. I’m sure you haven’t thought of me at all since you left but you saved my life back then by being my friend. I hope that I could have made you as happy as you made me.

When school was absolutely dreadful, we found each other. When everyone picked me last, you had always sought me out first. Maybe that’s why I believed you were the first boy I ever loved.

I want you to know how happy you made my years and though your leaving really did hurt me, in the end, I was better for it. I don't know if what we had was just puppy love, but if it wasn't, then I hope to never to fall deeper in love than I was with you.

Because of you, I know I’m too fragile to bear it.

My love has abandoned me, do with that what you will.

Love,

From, Y/N.

Dear Kang Taehyun,

Do you remember our first day? When I first saw you I was convinced you would be the romantic lead to finally convince me to take another chance at love. When we first spoke, I quickly came to realize that you weren’t— you were yourself and somehow, that was worse. Because I loved you more than any idealized version of you I had ever known.

Anyways, that first night the fog lifted and all around us were trees linking hands, like children playing. It reminded me of a boy I had known in my youth and suddenly I was 16 years old again desperately holding my feelings to my chest, afraid to speak as if the moment would slip away once more.

And somewhere along the way, messy confessions of admiration written on ripped out binder paper became carefully lettered confessions on parchment paper, sealed beautifully with wax only to never be opened.

Our first night, when you stood by the door, conflicted, as I sat there with my knees tucked under my chin, smiling. Then through the window, over the horizon was the most beautiful sunsets I had ever seen. Soon, your breath was on my neck as compliments spilled from your lips in a whisper. When I shied away from your touch, the first boy to touch me, you told me I looked lovely and for the first time in my life: I had felt it.

I sometimes think about the fragility of glass— ofbroken shards tearing against soft skin. The prickly feeling of tears as you’d stare down at the red glossy blood beginning to seep out.

It was almost painful how you respected me— how you accepted my rejections with a gentle smile.

And in truth, it is the transparency of the glass that kills you. The pain of seeing through to something you can never quite touch and the sting that followed after.

Your arms around my waist, the cold wind coming through the window howled as the sea whispered with the scent of sea salt filling the room. That night had felt so intimate and special to me, how welcoming you had been to my fear.

When the morning came, you were off and the sea continued to whisper your name.

Come back to me.

Love

From, Y/N.

Dear Choi Beomgyu,

I gave you the best of me— the year, the days, the hours. Precious little, in turn you’d given, like nutrients for a wilting flower. A last minute attempt at nurturing a broken heart. It had worked for the time. For that, I’m grateful.

I never said those three words to you— I wasn’t sure if I would be able to bring myself to. For anytime I had gotten close— to this idea of love— it had slipped away just beyond my reach.

I want you to remember my lips beneath your fingers and how you told me things you never told another soul.

Always the mood maker on camera, those glimpses into your soul that you had provided me were more special than you could have ever imagined.

Every moment between us had been captured with your camera. Now, I can’t recall if I had ever looked into your eyes without that thing in my face. For the sake of the memories, I let you have it. How dearly you loved that camera, I eventually hoped that could be me.

And those rare moments without it, on the quiet hood of your car as we sat looking up toward the sky were the ones I would remember forever. How you traced circles into my back as effortlessly as you would change the camera’s lens.

And my heart would skip at the thought that you were maybe, just maybe, beginning to know every inch of me as much as you knew that camera.

I want you to know that I have kept sacred everything you had entrusted in me and I always will.

Now I do wonder if there will be a morning when you'll wake up missing me as much as I missed miss you. I guiltily found myself hoping that some incident in your life would have finally taught you the value of my worth, that some poor girl much stronger than me would say the words that I longed to and mean it for the moment— only to break your heart in the end.

And you would feel a surge of longing, when you remember how I was good to you.

If that day ever comes then I hope you will look for me. I hope you will look with the kind of conviction that you’d always shown me, searching for me in every passing face.

Because I want to be found again. And I hope it’s you and the secrets you shared who find me.

Love

From, Y/N.

Dear Choi Soobin,

Have you forgotten me?

Please tell me what you've heard, in passing between mutual friends’ gatherings and in memories dug up by algorithms beyond your control.

I guard your memory jealously because with you I'd placed my worth. Because after losing so much— you seemed so perfect. I was ready to give it all up. Everything.

I was officially half out of my mind with love.

And I didn't think twice about what I was throwing into the fire, as long as I could keep it burning for just another minute— if only I was allowed to sit awhile longer beside its pale glow with my head on your shoulder while your gentle hums lured me to sleep.

That was how I loved you in the end. With my body cold and shuddering, empty hands over smoldering ash, counting out the minutes for your return.

And eventually, like all the love before, I had to realize that you weren’t coming back.

There I sat by the sad pile of ash only accompanied by a lukewarm, bitter tasting beer. You had complained that my wine was much too sharp.

Even with you gone I found myself trying to cater towards your taste. Yet despite the arguments we would have, mostly at my own fault, I prayed for the moments you would come back and drag me back home with you.

You showed me the particular kind of suffering to be experienced when you love something so deeply that you end up burning yourself too close to the flame. A tender sacrifice.

Like bent and broken feet of a dancing ballerina, it was in every considered step I took in the opposite direction of you.

If I ever felt like home to you, it was because you were safe with me. I want you to know that most of all.

Maybe in another time, I could have been your home. I don’t know anymore.

Love

From, Y/N.

Dear Choi Yeonjun,

It was in you that I had found everything I ever loved before and more, all at once.

Everything I had lost returned to me once more as if to remind me of what I would never have. Or maybe you were sent to give me hope again.

It was in the pained silence, comparable only to the lost song of a mermaid, I had come to terms with the fact that it was the first option.

At the place where you found me, under the half-moon and its half-light of the park. You said, if only you had met me there that night. Maybe we could have found our way. If we had met later on as more developed versions of ourselves, we could have stood a chance.

And I laughed, with no humor at all. Because at our age, it felt I had no more time to wait.

I learned something about sadness after that day, you ruffling my hair to comfort me before walking away without a goodbye or see you soon.

You showed me insanity like an open window, seven storeys high as I stared to the ground far below, teetering on the edge. And it was just as terrible and as beautiful as you and I.

Because I loved you— and I had finally said it, after so many years of chasing. I admitted to you: you were my everything.

With your arm around my shoulder as you entertained a group of people I couldn’t bother to remember the names of, I found myself looking up at you with pure adoration.

Suave and cool, you seemed to be everything love had told me I needed. Because with you, I was revered as well. Even to everyone around you: to be loved by you, I must have been special.

When your face fell at my confession, guilt evident on your face— I came to realize I must not have been special enough.

And you said pure bliss was a storm cloud, just before the rain would burst into the night sky, like a thousand aquatic stars-and not one single moment before.

And you were right. You were right about it all.

Love

From, Y/N.

Dear, ▇▇▇▇

There were letters that I had wrote you that I gave up sending, long before I stopped writing. I don't remember their contents, but I can recall with absolute clarity, your name scrawled across the pages.

I could never quite contain you to those messy sheets of ink. I couldn’t stop you from overtaking everything else, writing for hours on end only to feel overwhelmed all over again at the building tower of papers in the trash.

Because any other letters written to all the boys I had loved before were never quite as visceral as yours.

I wrote your name over and over— on torn scraps of paper, on binders and on the back of my wrists. On mirrors as I stared back at myself, eyes puffy and wide with tears.

And I carved it like sacred markings into trees and thought of adding my own, only to realize how utterly and pathetically in love I must have seemed.

Passersby in the park would smile and whisper behind their hands: how beautiful was a girl in love?

To have carved your name into the trees and the tops of tabletops, you must have been so incredibly special. How lucky you were to be loved by me, they must have thought.

Sometimes when I read a book, parts will lift from the pages in an anagram of your name. The words on the page would move themselves around, shuffling in some twisted dance to fade into you. Like a code to remind me it's not over. It was never over.

And in the end, I find myself returning to you. Only you. In this first letter: the one that I’ll finally send, I’m lending my heart to you in hopes you’ll return to me.

Because as I was, and as I am— as I will always be,

I am completely and utterly yours.

And so I am sending this: baring my soul and heart to you. It has been beaten and bruised after all this time.

All I can hope is that you can learn to become very, very careful with this fragile heart. And in turn I will reflect all of the pain I have experienced throughout these years onto you, as it has been purified into this new form of love.

I’ll be waiting at our spot. Come find me.

Love, your Y/N.

Happy 5 year anniversary, my TXT. ♥︎

જ⁀➴♡ phone in ᝰ.ᐟ

PHONING... 𓂃 ࣪˖ carnival.

Essentially becoming a shut-in due to your extreme fear of crowds, your friends are determined to take you out and show you how much fun things can be.

selected: [ yeonjun's song.] replay? ✧

જ⁀➴♡ wc 1k ✧ fluff , humor , comfort

As you inch closer to the front of the line, the rhythmic clinking of the cars ascending and descending fills your ears.

Standing before the entrance, the worker looked at you expectantly before glancing at the boys behind you. You turned to face them and they all gave you an encouraging smile, each one as sweet as the one before.

“So, who’s it gonna be?”

Looking at each of them, it felt almost impossible to pick just one. The feeling that everyone was waiting on you made you even more anxious, the idea of annoying the people around you getting your nerves up even more.

“Hey, Y/N it’s fine. Take your time.” Taehyun commented.

The small smile he gave you was enough to have you letting out a sigh of relief.

Catching Yeonjun’s eyes, a smile made its way onto your face as you motioned for him to come over.

Despite trying his best to act cool, it was obvious how excited he was by how quickly he chucked his panda plush at Kai and hustled over to you with a fist pump to the air.

“Hell yeah!”

His eagerness made you laugh, nerves subsided for the moment as the two of you stepped onto the open-air gondola, the familiar feeling of anticipation creeping up on you.

Yeonjun smiled at you as the attendant secured the safety bars and gave the two of you a friendly wink.

Embarrassed, you looked to your other friends who gave you both a thumbs up with toothy grins. “Ah… I’m not living this down, am I?”

Yeonjun gave you a confused look, a pout present on his lips. “What’s there to live down?”

With a lurch, the Ferris wheel began its slow ascent and you laughed nervously.

In regard to all of his friendly flirting, you tried your best not to fall for it but it had become increasingly hard as the years passed.

You wondered if your friends had picked up on that.

“Nothing…” your voice trailed off, wondering if he had picked up on it.

As the two of you were raised higher and higher, the world continued to move on down below you.

The sounds of music came up to meet you both and fill the silence, mixing with the gentle creaking of the ferris wheel as it turned.

“I missed you, Y/N.”

“Hm? You’ve been with us all night, Junnie.” The nickname made his cheeks flush as he prayed that you didn’t notice, clearing his throat.

“I mean, I invited you because I wanted to spend time with you but I know it’s been a lot for you. I hope you’re not mad at me.”

“Why would I be mad…?” Your voice trailed off, trying to understand what he had meant.

It didn’t take long before you came up with a theory, a small smile making its’ way onto your face as he avoided eye contact.

“Are you jealous, Yeonjun?”

After so many years of smooth talk and cheesy pick up lines, you had to admit that it was cute to see him a bit shaken simply due to not getting much attention from you.

Yeonjun groaned, “do you have to ask it like that? I’m not jealous.” He smiled, turning to you.

“Do you want me to be jealous?” His playful demeanor was back in no time and you hummed, tapping your chin gently in a display of pretend deep thinking.

“Hm… do I?” Your playing along was enough to make him scrunch his noise as he leaned in.

You jumped slightly in surprise and he laughed, “I was just gonna whisper something to you.”

“A little warning next time?”

Yeonjun mocked your action from earlier, tapping his chin gently before shaking his head.

“Hm… no!”

“Rude…” you mumbled, looking away.

“Well, since you won’t let me whisper it,” he started.

“I love you!” The carriage shook as you jumped again, heart following suite as your hands found their home over his mouth.

You shot him a glare and looked around, as if someone could have heard that from how high you were.

Yeonjun laughed as he pried your hands off of his mouth and your cheeks burned in embarrassment.

“What’s wrong with you?! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?!”

“I had to tell you some way.”

“There are better ways…” your mind was racing as you went over the three words.

How confidently he had yelled them to the world, unashamed and so certain.

It’s true that Yeonjun loved to get under your skin and make you unsteady, he found your startled expressions the cutest.

He wanted to make you question everything you had ever believed about love.

“Hey,” his voice was gentle as he placed a hand on your shoulder. “You don’t have to say it back.”

There wasn’t a moment that you had to think about it before repeating the words back to him.

This boy who made you feel reckless and out of control, despite all of your anxieties and fears.

The one that you were infuriatingly yet inexplicably drawn to in front of you with the cutest smile.

“I love you too, Yeonjun.”

And he smiled, pulling you into him and peppering kisses all over your face as if it were some form of skin care.

All the love he had been holding in finally being expressed in some small way beyond words.

Yeonjun didn’t want you to love him because he was good for you or because he said and did all the right things.

He wanted to be the best for you, the best friend he could be but the last thing he wanted was for you to love him because he seemed like everything you had been searching for.

Playful comments and flirtatious banter were only attempts to signal that to you, he wanted to be the one you didn’t see coming.

The giggled coming from you subsided as he finally came to a stop and stared at you, that dorky smile still on his face.

In the silence, you almost shrunk under his gaze as he let out a sigh of relief and put a hand over his heart.

After, he threw a fist in the air. “I totally won.”

You laughed, covering your face in embarrassment as the silence fell over the both of you again on your descent.

“Y/N, I don't want to be the reason why you can't sleep at night, from now on I want to be the one who lulls you to sleep.”

જ⁀➴♡ phone in ᝰ.ᐟ

PHONING... 𓂃 ࣪˖ strangers in the dark.

જ⁀➴♡ wc 3k ✧ angst , fluff

After so many promises and plans that had fallen through, you found your heart couldn’t take anymore empty words. In this realization, you found yourself.

That night, you made a promise to distance yourself. Although he never confronted you about it, you could see it on his face that he knew.

With each passing day, his smile grew smaller and smaller until eventually it was left to its’ default state.

When you had decided to leave, bag stuffed with your most precious items, it had become obvious you didn’t intend on coming back.

In truth, Beomgyu grew a bit bitter at this— to let someone into his life completely only for them to come in and leave him feeling robbed.

It was neither of your faults, he tried to convince himself.

You both knew that wasn’t true.

The two of you had fallen in love through screens, through satellites that carried your words across the aching void.

An all consuming void put between the two of you by a cruel twist of fate when everything was seemingly going so well.

Night after night, you spoke about hands on bodies and lips on skin. How your dreams were filled with the memory of each other and how it was just almost as good as the real thing.

And after the silence, you would think of all the girls made of flesh and bone within his arm’s reach.

Girls far away from the place you two had grown up— girls much more experienced and well versed in the world.

It was through that screen you learned that to love someone completely was to learn from them until their traits become your own.

Texting patterns begin to change and you find yourself repeating things you’d originally never said.

There was many things he had stolen from you besides your heart. Stealing pieces of you like a thief until you became nameless in his memory.

It wasn’t hard to believe that things had to change, looking back you found yourself incredibly stupid.

The seasons changed and your heart flipped with the anticipation that maybe, just maybe, you would finally be able to spend them together— any one, you weren’t picky.

Completely stupid and gullible to believe things could last with someone like him. Someone so otherworldly.

You wondered how you could be so afraid of losing something that was no longer yours.

People changed as well, you knew. Yet he always seemed the same. Maybe that was more painful to acknowledge— that he had never changed and he remained the same boy you had fallen in love with running down school hallways.

But the thing is you knew was that you still wanted to be with him because forever and always in your heart, he remained that boy you fell in love with in the safety of his bed. Incense on vinyls shelves be damned. You never loved the gentle strumming of the guitar more.

Despite the glowing screens growing to burn your eyes through the darkness until you couldn’t keep them open anymore.

Despite the undeniable fact that he had become something— someone so much bigger than himself at 15.

You never thought about it in the moment, how neither of you had said goodbye to the other. Without any words you had shared one knowing glance from the doorway.

Desperately you wanted him to reach out to you, to say something that would make you stay. To make another promises that you knew he couldn’t keep.

In loving him so deeply, being apart from him almost hurt as badly as being with him.

The rust that grew between telephones brought you to a new realization: one that had nausea bubbling deep down inside of you.

It was worse to be nothing with him than to have him at all.

Neither of you had called the other, not attempting any contact no matter how badly the two of you wanted to hear each other’s voice.

How could you go from calling someone everyday to not remembering the last digit of their number?

The amount of times you thought about that night since could be counted on your hands, pushing the memory far into the past with the desperate refusal to dig it up.

Because you had found that night, crying in your car with your head in your hands that with time: no matter how many times you went over it, there was never a solution for the two of you.

You could run back inside, tell him that it was all some sort of prank. And you knew that he would laugh along even though he knew it wasn’t true.

It was after that you worried about. Would it have just been the same? You were sure that the two of you would fall into the same pattern.

Confessions of loneliness and promises of company would be echoed over and over, the two of you swearing to the other that you would try.

Maybe the few times you were together you would make the most of it, claiming to make up for lost time before he was inevitably whisked away to the airport again to fly out and have experiences you could only dream of.

Sometimes during those times you kicked around with bliss and he would take your foot into his hand and kiss the tips of your feet. A small playful gesture that made you stick out your tongue in some mangled expression of disgust. And he’d just laugh, glad to have you at all.

But when he would be gone in the early mornings and you wouldn’t hear from him until he fell asleep next to you again that night and you knew that those moments could never last.

Even though you knew it wasn’t his fault— his job was incredibly demanding of him, after all, you still found yourself growing to resent him a bit. How completely unfair you had been to your love.

Despite that, you couldn’t let go of him.

For some reason, his mouth was always so specific. He always knew how to hurt you with it, in subtle ways.

“Your lips taste like coffee,”

“Bitter?”

“No, sweet.”

Whenever you would say that, he’d scrunch his nose and call you a loser: always endearingly. And when he used to kiss you, you found yourself never wanting to give yourself to another.

Now any lips you met felt tainted.

Bitter with the lust of superficial attraction.

These flings had you convinced that he had ruined your sense of touch because all you could ever feel was him and the faint scent of coffee.

As winter gave way to summer, the dust motes dancing in the sunlight blurred into pixels, and you gave your heart to a photograph.

The edges were bent from being tucked away into bags and drawers, places you swore you’d never look again only to stumble upon it months later when you swear that you’re finally healing and you find yourself crumbling all over again.

Did the boy in the photograph exist still? Surely he was more mature, maybe he was cooler.

Maybe he made sure to match his socks now and maybe the playlist once named after you had remained untouched.

If you wanted to, a quick search engine could give you all of the answers you desperately needed but you knew the harm would outweigh the good.

You wondered if he was taking care of himself properly, eating as much as he’d promised. You wondered if the same songs remained on his favorite playlist or if they too grew bitter to hear with time.

And everything in you screamed at you to call him. As the numbers grew fuzzy, uncertainty taking over as you’d trail off and your fingers hovered over the button.

You knew that you shouldn't have but just when you’d pull away, the memory of a boy brought you back to the idea. Sitting, finger shaking over the button.

The memory of a boy sitting at a bus stop, large headphones providing an extra barrier for his ears to hide in underneath his hair.

From the side, for a moment, he almost looked like Beomgyu.

And as the bus pulled up, the puddle of rain water splashing over the curb and onto your new shoes. There was an ache as you hoped, hoping for something.

Then, the boy looked up and the ache in your heart was replaced with one of disappointment and the feeling of wet socks.

It was quite ironic that these encounters had always happened when it came to your means of transportation.

A boy across the train, head down as he was off in his own land dreaming of something. You almost craned your neck to look over his neighbors and see if maybe, just maybe, it was him.

In the end, the thought of being caught sent a shiver of embarrassment down your spine and your pride overtook any sense of hope as you kept your own head low instead.

It was these boys that had brought you back to him, these and many more than didn’t share any similarities with him at all.

Because even after all the time apart, you searched for parts of him in every one. Everything in you led back to him.

Suddenly, no one had better taste than him.

You found yourself growing grotesquely optimistic at the sight of his favorite snacks, only for them to grimace and tell you that theirs are surely better.

In the car, playing a song he had always loved, only for them to turn the volume down.

‘So I can hear you better.’ They’d say.

You’re sure it was to quiet your humming.

Maybe it was because he was in everything, always that you found yourself fighting to break that promise.

Finally, for a moment, allowing yourself to think back on the night you left. To feel the ache of regret that had always been lingering.

And so you broke your promise, the line ringing to a number that may not even connect to him anymore.

In the late night, calling a stranger in the dark.

“…Y/N?” Your breath hitched at his voice— a confirmation that you hadn’t forgotten his number. That you hadn’t forgotten the most minuscule and important parts of him.

“You— hi. Hi.” Behind the screen you slapped yourself for the word. After so much time had passed, that was all you could bring yourself to say.

Beomgyu propped himself up on his elbow, the neon light of his alarm clock flashing 3:30 AM.

“Do you know how l—” the tired yet teasing tone in his voice was prominent as you scrambled to bring something else up, embarrassment increasing by the second.

Because you were a fool to disturb him so late, when you knew he loved sleeping more than he ever loved you.

“Sorry, sorry. Just…”

There was silence as he waited for you to continue.

You hated the sound of your own shaky breaths.

“…How was your day?”

And to your relief, you heard him chuckle.

“Really? That’s the first thing you say after hi?”

Still tense, you attempted to loosen yourself up as you leaned back into bed.

He was— you imagined— lying down on his arm in bed, tangled in that gray and white patterned blanket that you swore you hated because it was ‘so bland’.

You’d rather die than tell him you bought that same patterned comforter just last week.

“Well… we haven’t talked in a while.”

“8 months, actually.”

You smiled.

“You counted?”

“Does it matter?”

And like it always did, the doubt came crashing down over your head as you sat upright.

As if that would snap you out of it. As if that would somehow distract you from the glowing rays of your phone— from his voice.

“…I can’t remember your laugh. In only 8 months.”

Beomgyu hummed, his voice groggy as he spoke. “…Really? Maybe I didn’t laugh at you much then, because I remember yours.”

You shook your head, “you were always funnier than me.”

The fact that he was entertaining you without explicitly asking what you wanted, you found yourself grateful for the soft spot he seemed to still hold for you.

Because you knew if it were anyone else, he’d be annoyed.

“I miss all the screw ups we had,” you admitted.

“I miss getting angry at you— I hope you know that you never deserved it but… I still miss it. I miss feeling something for someone. For you.”

Despite how late it was, your voice had him following your every word as he waited for the final confession that he wanted to hear.

“You’re the best I’ve ever had. Probably ever will have. I’m…” you tried your best to cry, realizing how completely unfair that would be to him.

How it would destroy him all over again as you did months before, walking out that door, knowing that he’d break his back to make you smile.

“Even when we’re miles away, I knew you’d still want me. I never really… acknowledged how kind you were to me. How loyal you were. Even when I was acting completely irrational because of the distance you were so, so patient.”

For Beomgyu, the compliments felt hollow. Not stemming from the idea that you didn’t mean them— he knew that you did, the sincerity in your voice was hard to miss.

But it was because he couldn’t believe them himself.

Beomgyu was sure that there was more he could have done to satisfy you, to give you what he knew you deserved.

Maybe if he had worked harder, the company would afford him a more flexible schedule and he would have had more free time to devote to you.

It was something the two of you would have argued about before and it seems, still argue about now, yet with time it seems that you’ve traded perspectives.

“No one else, just you.”

“…just me.”

Anxiously, you picked at your nails. It was a habit that you had picked up recently, one you knew you’d never really kick on your own.

There was a scale in your mind weighing the options. You could continue to dance around the topic of that thing you had once shared, briefly, in passing or you could come clean.

“…What did you think when you saw my face for the first time?”

He laughed again, seeming to grow more into his usual self (or the part of his ‘self’ that you remembered— the part of him that you loved).

“So that’s why you called? I didn’t realize you were such a narcissist.” Those words hurt, though you deserved them.

“Can you just entertain me, Gyu? Please?”

The desperation in your voice along with the slight waver had him breathing in, his own breath hitching just for a moment.

The old nickname almost made him smile as he covered his mouth with a yawn.

One thing he hated was being woken up, especially so early and yet somehow, for some reason, he still agreed.

“I think it felt like something was going to end,”

“Like some sort of foreshadowing?”

“Or, something was gonna begin again.”

“How does that work?” He laughed again, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes once more.

“I didn’t know what it was, but I knew from the moment I saw you that it was the end of boredom forever.”

For the first time since you had left, you felt your heart strings being tugged like the strings of his guitar.

Unlike the music he once played for you so skillfully, nothing played this time and you were left with the deafening silence.

In that silence, you had come to face the exact thing that you were afraid of.

You loved him for saying that. And for the intermittent years that the two of you spent entangled, you knew that he loved you back.

Beomgyu had always loved you in his own way. When he promised his time and attention to you— he always meant it.

Whether he could follow through with it didn’t matter because in the end: he wanted to.

Desperately he wanted to give to you what he knew you deserved.

And by letting you walk out that night, he believed that was what he had done.

In the end, there was always love.

Then came the crossed wires, the signal jam.

The static that grew between the two of you was dull, murmuring protest. And you would question if there were others just like you, who had found themselves caught in his orbit.

Those girls so close to him you found yourself envious of, though he never spared them a second glance. Were their worlds revolving around him as well? It was hard to believe that they weren’t.

Whether you were just another celestial body, sent up from the ground; when the moon—the original satellite— was the only one he saw from where he was standing.

In the quiet of the night, he closed his eyes as he desperately wished on that satellite.

And you wished too.

Because you loved him, in the way you walk a tightrope. In the way people learn to fall asleep in a war zone.

You could ask why so many times, but you would never get an answer. And that is when the words would come.

“I’m sorry I called so late,” you started.

“It’s okay—”

“I’m sorry for everything, Beomgyu. Really, I—“

Before you could begin to express all of your regrets to him, his voice cut you off. Gentle and just as dreamy as your misty memory remembered it.

“Y/N. It’s okay.”

And without asking again, you decided to trust him enough to believe him.

The worry you had that you were maybe too late because you didn’t know how to talk to him washed away.

Because you didn’t know how to ask him if he was okay— didn’t know how to tell him you were so afraid of losing him until he lost you.

And unknowingly, with the press of a single button, you had calmed his worries too.

Providing him the chance to tell you all the things he never could.

And so he did, sitting up in his bed and talking into his phone in a hushed tone, away from prying ears just how you had many nights before across countries and states.

The night that he told you how much light had left his life when you were no longer part of it.

How he just hoped you realized how much you meant to him, always.

“I was sad that you were gone but I couldn’t be angry. I just wished that I could remind you of how beautiful you are, in case you forgot.”

A reminder he always echoed to you in those days, worshipping every inch of you. ‘From your head to your toes.’

And his smile was so mischievous, as if encouraging you to argue back so he could convince you all over again.

“I never wanted you to think I gave up on you, Y/N. So I'm sorry I haven't told you in so long.”

“Told me..?”

You found yourself wishing that he would crack some jokes to ease the situation instead, but he wouldn’t. He had always been so unusually serious when it came to comforting you.

“That I will never give up on you. My arms are wide open. There’s always a place for you here.”

In the same fashion that he always knew how to break you— he always seemed to know how to put you back together again.

With his love that was so teasingly mean to your poor bruised heart, he’d patch you up better than anyone ever could have.

“I thought about calling you so many times. I’m sorry I took so long. I think I.. I think I was scared.”

“Of me?” He asked jokingly.

“Yes.” You answered honestly.

Running away from him, you had given so much to things that weren't worth your time.

When all along, it was the one loved that you should have carried.

And all bitterness that grew overtime was now directed towards yourself. Because he had never given up on you— it was you who had given up on him.

It was him who broke the silence.

“Last night, I dreamed we did our laundry together.”

The abrupt confession has you laughing, especially when you recalled the days you actually had done your laundry together.

Washing machine bubbles overflowing as you slipped around on soapy suds, trying to clean up the mess he had made.

Eventually, he decided to stick to being your company sitting next to you as he watched you fold.

“You did?”

And he thought of the way you organized things, folding the clothes with such care and separating them into piles secluded by color.

How you’d throw the pair of socks that you just washed at his face as you told him to change into a matching pair because nothing irritated you more than the hole in his sock.

“When I woke up, I felt sad that it couldn’t happen anymore.”

And you wanted to ask why it couldn’t, but you knew that wasn’t your place anymore.

When the two of you were in love, there was nothing else but the yearning to be close to the other. Over the phone, over the distance.

The presence was felt through a voice heard and a screen held.

Despite the dead phone lines, your souls didn’t have internal clocks or calendars, nor did they understand the notion of time or distance. They only knew that it felt right to be with one another.

Maybe that was why you had been searching for him all along, in every passing train window and the lyrics of every song.

That was always the reason why you missed him so much when he wasn’t there— even if he was only in the very next room.

And the even greater distance you had put between the two of you seemed to serve as a lesson.

Your soul would always feel his absence—it just doesn’t realize that the separation is temporary.

Hesitantly, you look down at your phone to the time. Half of you had the heart to ignore it, as selfish as that was. It was getting later into the morning and soon, Beomgyu would have to be up for his daily activities.

“I should go.” You said awkwardly, cursing yourself for never being clever enough and being so utterly predictable.

He hummed, “can I ask you something first?”

You found yourself smiling at the idea that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t want to hang up as much as you did. For the night, you let yourself believe in that.

“Anything.”

“Why is it every time we say good night, it feels like goodbye?”

“It doesn’t have to.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s not say goodnight then. Let’s just fall asleep like this.”

જ⁀➴♡ phone in ᝰ.ᐟ