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neo-shitty · 3 years

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champagne problems — b.c

description. in which your only company was the hum of the train beneath your feet and the numbness in your chest—waist deep in regret and envious of happiness that could’ve been yours. | for @kpopscape’s love fools event

pairings. bang chan x female reader (and han jisung x your bestfriend lmao *waving at you @ateeskiz)

genre. angst, lovers to exes

word count. 3.3k (short? I KNOW but damn did this take so long to write)

notes. i wrote this specifically to hurt myself address my own issues with relationships. this was painful to write since i’m usually not one to pick the skin off healing wounds. but i’m glad i got this off my chest. i debated letting anyone read this—thinking that i only wrote this with the intention to make it hurtful and angsty. but a few friends left such kind comments after beta-reading this and now here we are.

also, might i suggest that you listen to this version of champagne problems. an irl sent it to me after beta-reading and my god, does it suit this fic so well.

The last time you saw Chan was on the platform at Seoul station—waiting for the Busan train at midnight on the 24th of December that year. Winters in Seoul were chilly in the morning, even more so after sun down, but that didn’t stop Chan from booking the midnight train. It never does and you know this. Having known him for so long you knew he had trouble sleeping so it was no surprise seeing him at the deserted train station where no one should’ve been on Christmas Eve.

You knew where he was headed—their rest house down in Busan where his family usually spent the holidays. All the years you knew him, he never went. Not because he wasn’t on good terms with his family, he just preferred spending Christmas with you in Seoul. Except this year, you finally convinced him to go with the promise that you’d come along.

And as he stood alone on the platform of the station, he debated whether to stay and wait for the train or turn around and head back to his apartment. But spending the holidays in the presence of his family was a lot better than spending it alone. And besides, he already made a promise to his parents that he’d be home by Christmas and he didn’t want to break their hearts.

So he fishes his pocket for his phone, taps a few, before he presses it against his ear. He stares ahead, waiting patiently for the person at the other end of the line to answer.

“Hey Mom,” Chan says when his mom picks up, breath fogging the air in front of him.

“Chan?” the woman asks in a worried tone, shuffling at the other end of the line as if she’d been stirred by the unusual phone call. “Why are you calling this late?”

Chan’s eyebrows furrow, “Can’t I wish my mom a Merry Christmas without her interrogating me?”

His mother sighs, “Merry Christmas, darling. But you really should be sleeping.”

A half-hearted chuckle leaves Chan’s lips at his mom’s concern over his sleeping schedule that has gone beyond the point of fixing. “Merry Christmas, Mom. I’m coming home.”

“Right now?!” the woman gasps, caught off guard at the sudden announcement.

“Yeah.”

“Why not travel tomorrow morning?” she argues. “You already missed dinner, anyway. It’s so late!”

“I’m already at the train station and the train’s arriving in a few minutes.”

The woman knows there was no point changing her own son’s mind—knowing well how stubborn he could be. But it doesn’t stop her from scolding him. “Christopher, you had the whole day and you chose to take the midnight train in the middle of winter? Nights are for sleeping and not travelling, young man. And you should’ve told me ahead that you’d be coming today at least. I haven’t even prepared the house for you and—”

Chan cuts her off before she can even mention your name, biting the inside of his cheek for a moment before he replies, “About her.”

“How did it go? What did she say?”

There it was. The million dollar question he’d been dreading to answer. He feels a lump form in his throat upon recollection. It felt ironic because he knew the memory haunted him all day and all night last October but it still hurt whenever he was asked about it. He should’ve been used to it by now. But the image of your sad eyes staring up at his expecting ones is embedded at the back of his mind. His chest feels heavy from the numbing heartache that came with the memory of the night of the Halloween party.

Chan had been waiting all night to get you alone and when he finally does, it’s on the balcony of your friend’s apartment. When he finally sees the opportunity, he takes it without hesitation. His hands were in his pocket—one hand trembling and the other fumbling with the box deep in his right pocket. You were staring at the blinking lights of the city while he was staring at you.

“Hey,” he says softly, an attempt to break the silence between the both of you. He tugs at your arm gently and you turn your attention away from the blinking lights and at Chan who was standing beside you.“I’ve been wanting to tell you something. for a while now actually. i just couldn’t find the right timing. But—”

Your eyes find Chan’s hand right as he pulled out the box from his pocket. It was something you’d seen too many times in movies to be unaware of what was inside. But unlike the movies, the moment wasn’t as magical as you thought it would be.

For a moment, Chan thinks that the tears in your eyes were out of sheer happiness upon seeing the jewelry box in his hand. But he soon finds out that it isn’t because you shake your head slowly before you give your answer to the question he hasn’t even asked yet.

Chan finds your other hand and holds it in his—like he always did when he wanted to comfort you, “If this is you and your fear of commitments, you know I can always wait no matter how long it takes. Right?”

You shake it off subtly before taking a step back from him.

“We’ve been together for years now. I—,” he stutters when you take a step to walk past him, “I can wait a few more if you need me to.”

You don’t waver and take the steps back to the apartment without looking back.

“At least tell me why not,” he says with his voice cracking and quiet—nearly drowned out by the music from inside. “Please?”

But what he asks is something you also don’t have an answer to either. You let the moment of vulnerability pass and close the distance between you and the glass door separating the balcony from the rest of the apartment. Your hand was on the sliding door’s handle when you hear Chan speak from behind you.

“No as in ‘not now’ or no as in ‘not ever’?”

It’s only then that you look back at him. He was standing right where you left him, hand still clutching the small box in his hand with his eyes glossy with tears that mirrored your own.

“No as in ‘not ever’.”

And you excuse yourself from him and from the party entirely. And he’s left out on the cold empty balcony, dumbfounded.

Your apology replays in his head like a broken record from the day you walked away. That night, he came home with all your things packed but you were nowhere to be seen. He leaves for work the next day and at the end of the day he finds his apartment devoid of everything you ever owned. You haven’t replied to any of his texts, your phone could no longer be contacted.

Just like that, you were gone.

He only snaps out of his own mind when he hears something being announced through the speakers of the stations. His mother doesn’t say anything, waiting patiently at the other end of the line for his answer.

Chan swallows, “She said no and I think we’re no longer together anymore, I don’t know.”

“Oh, sweetie,” his mother utters apologetically but Chan cuts her off again before she can continue.

“No, it’s fine. It’s fine, it’s been two months,” he lied but he couldn’t have himself crying on the platform of the train station. “I’ll be home in a few hours. You don’t have to wait up for me. I’ll just let myself in.”

And he ends the call after a few more exchanges, right as his train rolls into the station. Without looking back, he steps into the train and disappears as the double doors draw to a close.

Winter ends and the seasons change. You move out of Seoul entirely, starting somewhere new in a city outside of the capital. It took a lot of getting used to, especially that Chan had been by your side since freshman year. It’s in the first few months that you realize that you were right, you’ve gotten too dependent. You felt almost crippled when you went out by yourself, went to dinner by yourself, shopped by yourself. One night, it got so bad that you needed to fight the urge to call him.

You wish you could tell Chan all the reasons why you ended things that way. That the problem was never with him but a mere conflict with yourself. But every time you tried to, you’d get tongue tied and the words wouldn’t come. You’d just end up either deleting every single word you’ve typed in or you’d just end up staring at his phone number, ready to be dialed whenever you were.

But you never called—maybe out of the fear that he wouldn’t answer. And as you stalled each chance you got, time passed and it got to the point where you thought it was too late to even reach out. You were thinking he’d rather not hear from you again than hear an apology for closure.

And you were doing fine or at least that’s what you thought.

The next time you see Chan was at the wedding reception of your best friend’s wedding, six years later.

You wouldn’t miss the wedding for the world. It was your best friend’s after all. But you couldn’t shake off the looming possibility that you’d be seeing Chan again, knowing well you were all in the same friend group in college and your mutual friends were getting married that night.

Thankfully, staying in the front row as the maid of honor made it so much easier for you to avoid everyone. But in the reception, your luck had worn thin.

The venue, though enormous, wasn’t large enough to make it easy for you to avoid Chan. It takes you over a minute of pacing outside the entrance before you finally let yourself in. You’re at the back of the room. The center, where everyone seemed to be gathered, peaks your attention and you approach.

From the gap between two shoulders, you see your best friend—all smiles—in the middle gazing at the row of girls a few feet away from her.

“Why don’t you go join them?” you hear a voice speak from beside you. The woman, your best friend’s mother, snakes an arm around you before giving you a squeeze.

You utter a lame excuse, but you couldn’t just tell her you were uninterested in the tradition, could you? You give her a shy smile but knowing her, she wouldn’t be shaken off that easily.

The woman keeps your arms locked as she pushes past the row of people keeping you from the center. She walks to the row of girls, with you in tow, before finally letting you go. “Don’t be a killjoy at your own best friend’s wedding!” she whispers in a shouting tone before she turns around, leaving you in the company of college friends you haven’t talked to in half a decade.

They all welcome you warmly but your unease is evident with the way your stance is awkward compared to theirs. From the back of the row, your eyes gaze on each of their faces. All of which were familiar to you because you constantly saw them on social media, save for one. Your best friend counts to three and throws her bouquet over head. Your eyes follow the bouquet and it lands on the hands of the girl you didn’t know.

Despite not knowing who she was, you cheered along with the rest of the girls and applauded at her wide-eyed astonishment. Adjacent to where you were, a crowd of boys rise from their seats. Only then do you realize that they were the groom’s—Jisung’s—circle of friends and your own acquaintances. You don’t understand why they’re making such a fuss until you finally see him.

Chan is the last one to stand in the group—eyes glued to the floor, cheeks flushed and nervous. His friends move their chairs aside to let the boy pass. Chan still seemed like the same man you knew all those years ago. He was dressed in a classic tuxedo like the rest of the groomsmen were, radiating elegance yet cool, sporting a mature look yet he still looked cheeky in a sense that made you want to giggle at the sight of him.

You remember that years have passed and the circumstances were no longer the same. So you hide yourself behind the other girls who were staring at him too.

But you never realized why they were staring until you notice the familiarity of the scene unfolding before you. It makes your stomach churn. The girls step aside and you absentmindedly follow, giving way for the girl with the bouquet in hand.

You watch them meet in the middle—Chan in all smiles and the girl, bewildered. You don’t hear what he’s saying but the expression on Chan’s face made it clear what his intentions were. Everyone else looked eagerly at the scene and it seemed to you that everyone was in on it except you and the girl standing before Chan.

And you knew exactly why no one bothered telling you; you would’ve never gone to the wedding at all.

Your stare is only broken when your best friend comes up beside you. Her face is etched with genuine concern mixed with a tinge of useless apologeticness. “I’m so sorry we didn’t tell you. To be fair i only found out a week ago and I was upset because who the fuck would propose at someone’s else’s wedding?”

“I don’t know? Someone who knows their ex would show up on said wedding and watch?” you answered. Your words were laced with a mix of humor and bitterness and you’re praying it would pass off as a joke rather than a blow to your ego.

Your best friend smiles, “Still shady as you’ll ever be, I see.”

“Our breakup,” you say, recalling that night over six years ago, “was still my fault and I own up to that. Glad to see we both moved on though.”

Your nonchalance would’ve been convincing had you been talking to someone who didn’t know you very well but your best friend knew you too well. She hooks an arm around you as you both look back at the center of attention. Chan had finished talking and the girl was on the verge of crying. He finally kneels, earning a gasp from spectators and you try to stand there unamused.

Even with the chatter of the uncaring crowd at the back you still hear Chan ask the same question he was supposed to ask you six years ago.

Only this time, the answer was yes.

“At my own fucking wedding,” she utters beneath her breath in an attempt to make your grief a bit lighter and it earns a half-hearted chuckle from you.

The girl tugs him up and you swear that you’ve never seen him more happy than in that moment—smiling from ear to ear at the girl staring up at him—moments before he presses his lips on hers. For a second, six years go to waste as you remember what his lips felt like pressed on yours and the warmth of his embrace when his arms were wrapped around you.

You remember everything as if it all happened yesterday. And you can feel it, almost in your reach, but it slips out of your grasp before you could extend a hand to reach it. You tear your eyes away from the scene, feeling your throat tighten at the sight.

“I’ve known you long enough to know that you’re lying. My apartment is open for you if you need it tonight,” your best friend whispers to your ear, rubbing her thumb on your arm before excusing herself.

The crowd burst into cheers and applause as she walks over to her groom for a dance and the newly-engaged joined them. The noise is almost deafening to you and with every minute you spent there you felt more and more suffocated.

You knew it was your cue to leave. You turn around and find your way to the exit. A tear slips down your cheek and you’re praying that nobody notices.

You got so much more than you asked for on the only night you spent back at the capital. You’ve overestimated time’s capability to heal all wounds. It was clear yours haven’t healed at all because you could still feel the searing pain in your chest like six years haven’t gone by at all.

And you try to remind yourself that you were in no place to be selfish after everything you’ve put Chan through all those years ago. That he was happy now and it was selfish of you to even feel the heaviness you were feeling right now.

Winter has ended and the seasons have changed. Years have gone by without contact and you still weren’t fine, unlike what you convinced yourself all these years. Because you still find yourself thinking of the possible future you could’ve had, had you said yes that night.

And it’s the scene from earlier tonight that makes you realize that that future is gone completely, along with the man in your memories who seemed to haunt you endlessly to this day.

You remember Chan’s face when he found out that you were his new dorm roommate—wide-eyed and staring at the heap of books on your half of the dorm room. Every college party you attended where he would be the one in charge with the music. Spending the wee hours of the morning accompanying him as he revised one track after the other, having the privilege to all those tracks before anyone else did. Falling asleep in his arms and feeling the rise and fall of his chest.

You recall the numerous times he’d wait for you outside the exam halls, celebrate with you if you passed and serve you drinks when you didn’t. Attending his first gig outside the campus and feeling sad that you didn’t have anyone to dance with when he put a couple’s song on. Graduating college together and finally moving out of the cramped dorm room and moving into an apartment in the capital where you both had opportunities left and right.

Your mind takes you back to a night you were cuddled in his arms on the couch and watching the tv. He utters a promise—now broken—to spend the rest of his life beside you and you’re baffled why it scared you so much back then when you couldn’t see yourself with anyone else in the future either.

You find yourself on the same train station platform you last saw him long ago; where there was a moment of hesitation to approach and take back what you said. To tell him you were sorry, that you only needed more time to be ready and you’d say yes the second time around.

But he boards the train and you walk away thinking you’ll never regret the decision you made that day.

Now, you weight of regret falls heavy on your shoulders and you have no one else to put the blame on but yourself.

Chan was happy now and you think it’s enough to give you peace of mind that he’d recovered from the wreck you left him. He always deserved the best, and that’s all you ever wished for him since the day you left. You weren’t the best for him—you knew it then and you were sure of it now because you’ve never seen him happier than you did today.

Your phone buzzes in your purse but you ignore it—leaving every call unanswered and every text unread. You board the train with no particular destination in mind and you try your best to convince yourself you’re happy that he’s doing well even when it’s clear that you aren’t.

Until then, your only company is the hum of the train beneath your feet and the numbness in your chest—waist deep in regret and envious of the happiness that could’ve been yours. It was well beyond your reach now.

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hanniiesuckle17 · 3 years

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Fireworks

A/n: this is not requested but i needed to write something for me and I always love writing best friend!jisung (this turned out to be hella long btw). Also i just realized this is the 16th jisung fic on my masterlist wtf. Welp happy sweet sixteen jisung.

Tag List: @mini-meanhoe @leggomylino @hanstagrams @desertofdessert @hoes4hoseok @yangomangos @jeonqqin @geminirules @crscendoforsung @mrsunshine999 @jisungsjheekies @hannie-squirrel00 @cotccotc @kodzu-ken @konenichi @yangs-jeongin @binniebutter @skzwriternet

Warnings: cussing probably, lil distressed jisung, alcohol consumption

Word Count: 5.2k

Summary: Y/n and Jisung practically grew up together. Y/n always dreamed of getting her fairytale happy ending. So, Jisung is surprised when she is settling for an all but labeled ‘arranged marriage’ to an asshole that Jisung knows doesn’t love her. Not like he does. Can Jisung convince himself to go after what he really wants and take the risks that come with it? Can Y/n face the facts that what she has wanted has been in front of her all along?

Genre: romance, fluff, angst, non-idol!au, bestfriend!au, friends to lovers!au, wedding crasher!au, Fem Reader

❃

“Please, come today!”

Jisung sighed over the phone. “Y/n. I have no knowledge whatsoever about dresses. Especially wedding dresses! They’re all white! What’s the difference?” I could hear the murmurs of Changbin and Chan on the other side of the line. “See. I will be no help at all!” Despite the negative connotation of his words I could hear the tiny smile in his voice.

“So, we’re meeting outside the shop at five.”

“Y/n, I’m not going.”

“2146 Chyeongsong Ave, got it?”

“Yes, I’ve got it.”

Letting out a happy laugh I hung up on my best friend, sure that his attendance could be accounted for. The wedding was three months away. Jiho, my fiancee, had no desire for a big wedding and it seemed the sooner we were married the happier he would be.

But, I had always dreamed of a magical wedding with hundreds of people watching me marry the man of my dreams. So, we compromised. He said I could plan as big I wedding as I wanted as long as I could get it done in three months and he would pay for it.

Jiho was the son of one of Seoul’s big company presidents. His family was very kind and seemed to welcome me with open arms despite my less than formal upbringing. Jiho grew up in a penthouse apartment and went to the best university in Seoul.

I grew up in a tiny house in the rundown suburbs next door my best friend, Jisung, and busted my ass to get scholarships and pay my way through a cheap college. Jisung was beside me in all the big moments in my life. He was my best friend and I loved him more than anything.

“So, what did he say?”

Sooyoung’s head of curly dark hair popped over the cubicle divider separating our two desks. I laughed and gave her a thumbs up. “You doubted my power of Jisung persuation?”

“Never. You could convince that boy to run around Gangnam with his shoes on his ears and screaming at the top of his lungs if you wanted to.” Laughing at the thought, I turned back to my computer, desperately watching the minutes tick by before I would get to start searching for my wedding dress.

❃

A slightly chilling breeze blew across the street. Jisung regardless of his lack of enthusiasm on the phone picked me up from work to walk with me to my dress appointment. My mother, other best friend Yuri, and Jiho’s sister Bo Rim were already waiting outside. Everyone greeted us with a smile as we walked up. My arm was looped with Jisung’s and my hand was stuffed in his jacket pocket since it was cold.

My mother smiled and embraced Jisung with a kiss on the cheek before motioning us inside. My entourage and I were quickly greeted by a consultant. “Hi! My name is Hyunsoon, I’ll be your consultant today. You must be the gorgeous bride, Y/n!” She smiled looking me up and down before glancing at my arm linked with the man beside me. “And is this handsome young man your husband-to-be?”

Jisung shook his head dark hair falling in his eyes. A tight smile sat on his lips as he answered the woman. “No, I’m just the best friend. I’m not going to stay for the whole appointment.” She nodded looking at Jisung with new eyes. “I want to be surprised. Regardless, Y/n will look radiant in whatever she chooses.”

After a few questions about my wedding Hyunsoon led me back into a dressing room and my family and friends to a couch with mirrors around it.

“Are you excited for your wedding?” She asked with a kind smile, placing dressing on the wall of the dressing room for me to see.

“You could say that,”

Her brows furrowed. “You don’t sound very excited?” I shrugged and laughed nervously. The dresses she had picked out were very pretty. Sensing I had nothing more to say on the topic she helped me into the first dress.

It was weird to see myself in the garment. I watched her fix the dress with clips so it would fit as it should before looking over to me. The dress was more of a ball gown style. It poofed out just above my hips and was strapless with a sweetheart neckline.

“Do you want to go out and show them?” I nodded and helped her pick up the many layers of tulle skirt. Hearing fabric brush against the ground as we walked out of the hallway, the heads of my entourage turned. Several smiles were seen from my view in the mirror as I stepped up onto the pedestal.

I gazed once again at the dress in the mirror. It was a gorgeous gown; there was no doubt. Feeling ready for their opinion, I turned around to face the peanut gallery. “What do you think?” My mother was quick to gush over the skirt. Bo Rim and Yuri both raved over the shiny beading on the bodice. Mrs. Nam, Jiho’s mother seemed to like it just fine. My eyes fell on Jisung who said nothing. He looked at me, arms crossed and fingers brushing over his bottom lip. “Ji?”

“It’s....nice...”

Struggling not to laugh I replied, “One of the most incredible song writers I know and the only thing he has to say is ‘nice’?” My friend chuckled and his stare raked over the fabric before looking back up at my face.

“It’s not you. You don’t look like you. You look like some frilly puffy marshmallow girl.”

From anyone else the comment would offend but all I could do was laugh. “He’s right this is definitely not me.” Nodding the consultant ushered me back into the dressing room. Five dresses later, nothing felt right and I was beginning to get stressed out. “What do I do, Hyunsoon? Nothing feels right. I’m not feeling those....fireworks.” The beautiful woman looked at me in question. “Sorry, it’s something Jisung and I say to each other. It’s like our wish for the other to find so much happiness that it feels like...actual fireworks.” I explained with a light laugh.

She sat down on the floor with me, moving the short silk robe further over my thigh, a gentle gesture. “Tell me more about your fiancee,” She kept her hand on my knee and rubbed soothing circles on my skin.

“Ummm....well...his name is Nam Jiho. He’s really nice and very very smart. Like holy fuck, he is insanely smart. He spends most of his time at work and he really likes to run as well.”

She looked at me expectantly. “That’s it?” I nodded, a little unsure of what else she wanted me to say. “And you love him?”

“Of course! What kind of a question is that? I’m getting married aren’t I?” Though I smiled, she could tell there was the smallest bit of insecurity. She thought for a minute tapping her fingers softly on my knee.

I felt somewhat lost among the mountains of white fabric scattered about the room. “Okay then! Whose opinion matters the most to you out of everyone you brought with you today?”

“Oh- Jisung. Of course.”

“Tell me about Jisung,”

A hefty sigh left my lips, but a small happy smile soon replaced it. “Jisung is....he’s like....my person you know? Like anytime I need him- even when I don’t need him- he’s always around. We grew up together. He is my everything. I trust him with more than my life. He’s just....Jisung. He is fully himself and unapologetic about it.” Ilaughed recalling thousands and thousands of memories with him. “He is a total asshole. Way too confident. But, he gets really shy sometimes. He’s also very genuine and has the biggest heart. Without Jisung...I wouldn't be who I am today.”

She smiled and pushed herself off the ground. “I will be right back!” Just as she closed the door, Hyunsoon winked over at me and left me alone in the dressing room.

❃

Jisung’s POV

I was beginning to feel restless. Y/n hadn’t come out in at least thirty minutes. My leg was going to bounce off my body at this point. Unable to sit still any longer I pushed myself off the plush couch. It was getting harder and harder to control my heart seeing Y/n walk out in all these gowns knowing she was going to marry another man.

Wandering through the labyrinth-like rows of white frocks, I found myself thinking once again about Y/n. Not bothering to cage my thoughts they ran wild with daydreams of Y/n choosing dresses imagining what I would think of her walking down the aisle. Her smiling at me instead of that asshat, Jiho.

Turning down an obviously dead end, my eyes fell on the mannequin standing in the center of the row. A delicate dress hung on the figure.Tattooed lace around the bodice and down the front of the gown to the hips fading like waves on shore. The back was low and open and my mind filled in the gaps, picturing Y/n’s soft skin laying beneath the fabric. My fingers brushed over the long thin sleeves.

The sound of the a door closing snatched me from the my tantalizing reverie. “Oh- You’re Jisung right?” The woman asked walking closer. I recognized her as the one helping with Y/n’s appointment. I gave her a short nod, shoving my hands into the pockets of my jacket. “I actually need your help.”

“Anything for Y/n.” The beautiful woman’s brow quirked up and a smile slid onto her painted lips. “I mean....anything...for the bride.”

Her tongue slid over her white teeth. There was so much white around, my head was starting to physically hurt. “Uh huh. Anyway! Y/n basically hates everything not only I have picked, but also everything she’s picked.” I stood waiting for the part where I could possibly help. “She trusts you. She wouldn’t stop talking about you.”

“I’m sorry....I don’t see how-”

“I see you’re looking at dresses. Have you seen one that you like? Maybe....one you would like...on Y/n?” My eyes fell to the floor, glancing over at the mannequin briefly. My quick gaze did not go unnoticed by Y/n’s consultant. “Well...Jisung....don’t you have good taste.” She walked over to dress form and checked the price tag before giving the gown a once over. “Revealing taste too....” She sang with a smirk.

I looked away rubbing the back of my neck, the area feeling very itchy all of a sudden. “I-I- uh...the dress just seems like her. It’s very.....mesmeric. Her.”

“She did say you have a way with words.” Hyunsoon, I think her name was, walked over to one of the racks pushing past dresses until she pulled out one I assumed was in my bestfriend’s size. “Go sit back down! I know she’s going to love this one.”

My head tilted back and I let out a sigh. As much as it pained me, I knew seeing that dress on Y/n and knowing it was ‘the one’ would be it for me. I’d snap and in front of all her family, soon to be and current, I’d confess how much I loved her and that I didn’t want her to marry that dick. I’d ruin what would be her perfect happy ending. Well...in her words....her ‘Moderatley-Happy-Fiancially-Stable Ending’.

“Actually...I’m gonna head out. I know she’s gonna love it. Tell her I hope she gets her fireworks.”

Willinging myself to start moving, I walked past Hyunsoon and towards the door, only stopping once. A glimpse. I caught only a glimpse. The door of Y/n’s dressing room opened and I saw the bright smile on her lips as she looked at the dress being brought to her. “That’s your last look, Han.” I mumbled under my breath. “Now turn around and walk out.”

With every ounce of willpower left in my body, I did.

❃

The TV droned in my rundown apartment. My two closest friends, outside the one I was deeply in love with, were half drunkenly lounged in my tiny living room. I scowled at the television, taking another drink from the bottle in my hand.

“Dude- slow down. That’s like your sixth drink.” The eldest chided, tossing a balled up fast food wrapper at my head.

Ignoring the fellow musician’s advice, I chugged the rest of the beer shooting Chan a look. “Chan let him be. You know what tomorrow is.” Changbin sighed. Turning, I found him hanging off an armchair upside down, scrolling through his phone. It was silent for a while until the inverted boy spoke up again. “I still don’t get why she’s marrying that douchebag.”

Knowing where this conversation was going I escaped to the kitchen, preoccupying myself with grabbing another beer from the fridge. the other two boys paid me no mind and continued the discussion as if I was invisible. Chan’s attention turned back to me as I plopped down next to him on the dusty old couch. “Han, didn’t you say you caught the guy cheating like....multiple times....”

It was true. I had caught Jiho not once, not twice, not even three times, but four times I had got him with other women. Jiho liked to go out to clubs. The scumbag would pretend that he was working late so Y/n would be none the wiser, then he would stay out until three in the morning drinking and getting with random girls he met. The bastard didn’t even have the decency to frequent establishments he knew I wouldn’t be at. My music career was in the dumps lately and I had resorted to DJ-ing at downtown clubs.

That fucking asshole even had the audacity to flirt with other girl while Y/n was around. She had invited me out with the two of them for drinks after a promotion at work. The second she leaves for the bathroom Jiho starts making moves on the waitress. Right in front of me.

“Yeah....well, there’s nothing I can do about it.” On multiple occasions I had tried to tell Y/n about her terrible fiancee. Every time I tried, all I could see was the look of hope on her face. the look that practically begged for me to tell her that Jiho and I were finally getting along. And....I couldn’t do it. I could never do it.

“Boo hoo. Horton hears a bitch ass liar!” Changbin slurred from his awkward position.

“What?”

“That is quite possibly the biggest lie you have ever told.”

I scoffed, rolling my eyes. Chan yanked the beer out of my grip and handed me a water bottle instead. “Oh and what do you suppose I do then?” I managed to get the words out before Chan less than gently shoved the water in my face.

The man beside me sighed and shifted to face me fully. “You love Y/n. Yes or No?”

“Yes.”

“She needs to know that.” I shook my head. No, she did not need to know that. I was not going to be the reason Y/n ruined her chance at a good life. Looking around my apartment I saw nothing but disappointment. Most months it was hard to make rent and I could barely afford to do anything but the bare necessities. She deserved better than what I could give her. “We all know Y/n is only settling. This is definitely not the fairytale ending she always talked about.”

“Chan, there’s no such thing as fairytales. Even Y/n knows that.” Inwardly, I grimaced at my own words. Had Y/n been around to hear those words I would have been slapped upside the head.

“How do you know that? Do you have proof?” Changbin mused, a drunk smile on his face. “Let’s say this is a fairytale. You and Y/n have to be the main characters! The prince and the princess always get to together in the end! Duhhh!”

Even in my sour and depressed mood it was easy to laugh as Changbin slid off the armchair and landed on his head. “He does have a point, Ji.” Chan said, listing his head back onto the couch. Two of his fingers pushed the bottom of the bottle back up towards my face. “You’re the leading man in your own life, dude. Stop acting like the best friend. If you want her go get her.”

My thumb brushed over the grooves in the plastic . The alcohol was quickly clearing out of my system. A numbness filled my body as I contemplated the options put in front of me. Maybe it was time for me to be selfish. Maybe it was time for me to get what I wanted.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed myself off the sofa and headed for the door.

❃

Thirteen hours. Thirteen hours before my best friend’s wedding and I was walking to her house at two in the morning to confess my feelings for her. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” I mumbled under my breath. The view of her parents house was growing closer as I walked down the street. Y/n told me earlier in the week she would be staying there the night before the big day.

Just like so many nights in our teen-dom, a familiar yellow glow from Y/n’s bedroom window illuminated the street below her house. Through the second story window I could see glimpses of movement. For a moment I just stood, doubting all the decisions I made in the last twenty minutes. I could chicken out here. Turn around and go home. She would never know.

Just as I was about to turn around, I was caught in daze by the image in the window. Y/n stepped into view, radient like a new morning. From the little I could see from the street, she was wearing the dress I had picked from the boutique. Her hair was messily pushed back and strands fell in front of her eyes. The glint of the standing mirror flashed across from where she stood. Her beautiful E/c eyes trained on her reflection.

She was breathtaking. My chest got tight just looking at her and a cold sweat was born on my palms. I watched as she rung her hands together, nervously twisting the rings on her fingers; a habit we both shared. Y/n let out a shaky breath before returning her gaze to the looking glass, this time with a smile.

Her delicate fingers reached up and brushed her cheek before they stretched out as if to shake some invisible person’s hand. Her smile grew brighter as she talked to this imaginary person. She laughed and looked truly the happiest I had seen her in a long time.

My eyes fell to the road, scuffing my shoe on the asphalt. She was happy. No matter how badly I wanted her.....there was no way I was going to take that away from her. Y/n’s happiness mattered more than mine. I could find comfort in the knowledge that she would be happy. That she would be taken care of. That she got everything she deserved. Everything I could never give her.

Turning on my heel, the cold air and truth bleeding me sober, I walked back into the city away from my happy ending.

❃

Y/n’s POV

Thirteen hours. Thirteen hours before my wedding and I was questioning everything for absolutely no reason. The rest of my family was long asleep. Yet, here I sat in my wedding dress feeling like everything I was doing, every decision I made.....was wrong. I felt like crying for no reason, my throat refusing to be anything but tight.

Coming to my feet, I smoothed out the gorgeous gown and walked with no purpose until I found myself staring at the mirror on the far side of the room. The girl on the other side of the glass looked like a bride. Why wasn’t I happy with that?

Standing up tall like my mother lectured many times in the past few days, I pursed my lips and put on a pained smile. “Hi, I’m Mrs. Nam Jiho,” The name felt unclean coming from my lips. Tilting my head, I rubbed my face before staring back at my reflection. I sighed pushing back the feeling of tears begging to spill over.

“It’s nice to meet you, my name is Nam Y/n.” I shivered, swallowing the last bit of moisture in my mouth. “Nam....Y/n.....Y/n Nam....Mrs.Nam Y/n.” The more I tried to look at the person who I would become the more I felt like crying. “It’s nice to meet you, I’m Mrs. Nam Y/n....” Before I could finish the words I broke into tears. Loud sobs filled my room and all I could do was stare at the hollow shell reflected in my mirror.

My heart ached. The air in the room around me felt heavy, like a weight on my shoulders, pushing me down into the ground. Pushing past the lump in my throat, my eyes returned to the mirror, this time fixating on the photos framing the glass. Pictures of my friends and family.

My heart lifted seeing a photo of Jisung and me. It was an old picture from highschool, probably taken on one of those disposable cameras you could get at corner stores. His school uniform was slightly too big for his then thin frame. My skirt was just a little too long and my shoes were never quite the right size. We were seated on the bleachers outside the school. Jisung sat on the row above me and let me rest between his legs. His arm was wrapped around my shoulders, as he leaned around to kiss my cheek. I was caught in the middle of a laugh and Jisung looked so happy right next to me.

I smiled remembering the day from the printed memory. A friend we both had lost touch with had taken the photo while we weren’t looking. We then got teased for days afterwards. My fingers brushed over the delicate fabric of the dress. The dress that Jisung had chosen. Jisung. Almost every happy moment of my life....was tied to Jisung. Taking a step forward, I looked back in the mirror. Sniffing away the tears, I smiled.

“I’m please to meet you....I’m Mrs. Han Jisung,”

The smile on my face grew bigger and my heart swelled. Reaching up I brushed away the tears that spilled over before holding my hand as if meeting one of the guests at my wedding. “Jisung and I are so pleased you could come to our wedding,”

The feeling in my chest had me wishing to cry all over again but for a different reason. I wanted to jump and scream at the top of my lungs the name ‘Han Y/n’. The more I said it, the more I felt like a teenager again.

All I could think about was Jisung. His dark hair, dyed one too many times, leaving it slightly damaged but somehow still soft. His big, round, doe eyes. The way he told the stupidest jokes. His voice- not just when he sang, but even simply speaking his voice was one of my favorite sounds. Pressing my hands to my cheeks, I pulled away finding them hot.

“Fuck...I’m in love with Jisung.”

❃

“Okay, I need everyone to give me some fucking space!” I shouted, effectively silencing my dressing room. One by one, my maid of honor ushered the ladies out. I let slip one time that I am having second thoughts and all hell breaks loose.

Sitting at the vanity, my head fell into my hands. I was dejected. Confused. And obviously sitting with a pretty big headache. I hadn’t heard from Jisung since the dress appointment and he didn’t answer any of my texts this morning. It was like he was avoiding me. Eyeing the champagne on table I contemplated drinking the whole damn bottle then just going through with the event. As much as I wanted to get married, I didn’t want to do it to someone I didn’t love.

Standing up, I manuevered the champagne filled vessel away from my body and popped it, the sound letting loose a satisfying echo. The bubbly liquid filled the glass flute I picked up. My first sip was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“I told you guys I needed space! Just fuck off!”

Downing the glass, I turned to pour another one. Drunk ceremony was looking like my best option right about now. The click of the dressing room door opening caused my ears to prick up. “I said fuck off-”

“That’s not very nice language coming from the bride.”

Jisung stood in the doorway, hesitant smile on his face. His hair was almost styled, pieces still falling loose over his forehead. A black blazer hung over an untucked slightly wrinkled white dress shirt. His slender hands were shoved in the pockets of his blue jeans.

“Coming from you that’s rich,” He watched me drink in his appearance. “Jeans, Ji? You come to my wedding in jeans and Doc Martens?”

My best friend rubbed the back of his neck, eyes trained on the carpeted floor. “To be honest....I wasn’t sure I was coming at all.”

I blinked, trying to process the words just said to me. My best friend....the man I loved more than anything in the world...said he almost didn’t come to my wedding. “Excuse me?”

“Y/n....we need to talk....”

My chest tightened in anticipation as I watched Jisung close the door. He stayed on the opposite side of the room seemingly nervous or afraid to even look my way. A hint of a smile appeared as I watched Jisung anxiously turn the silver rings around his fingers. “Ji, have you been avoiding me...”

Instead of answering, the man’s eyes fell to the bottle on the vanity. He motioned to it, wordlessly asking for a glass. Stepping away, I allowed him enough room to cross and pour a glass for himself. He downed the flute like a shot almost making me laugh at the similarity between us. “Didn’t you want to get married outside? In a forest if I remember correctly?”

“Don’t change the subject, Jisung.”

“I’m not.” For the first time I felt like Jisung really looked at me. His eyes seemed to soften. Before I could once again appreciate how beguiling his eyes were, they retreated back to their place on the floor. “Y/n....this isn’t you. You deserve a fairytale ending. Your fairytale ending. You don’t deserve a shotgun wedding in some church with nobody watching just waiting for the hour de vours to be passed out.”

“I’m not pregnant. This isn’t a shotgun-”

“Please just let me finish, Y/n....”

Nodding, I leaned against the vanity and watched my friend’s hands brushed through his dark locks. The silver hanging from his ears glinted in the bright fluorescent lighting. “Y/n...Don’t....don’t get married.” He seemed encouraged by my reaction, or lack thereof. “I think about you a little more than I should. A lot more actually. For a long time. Y/n/n, I’ve been in love with you since grade school.”

A familiar lump began to form in my throat and a pit formed in my stomach. Gaining confidence, Jisung’s eyes met mine. “It’s been killing me...seeing you with that asshole. I know you’re happy. I know that you’re better off with him. He can give you everything that I can’t, because you deserve to have a nice house. You deserve to be spoiled with gifts and trips. You deserve to not come home every night and worry whether the rent has been paid.” Jisung stopped and stared at the empty glass in his hands.

“You always talked about fairytales when we were little. Well...my fairytale would just be us. No magic. No princes and princesses. Cause you’re enough for me. More than enough. Y/n, you’re it for me. You’re my fairytale.”

His eyes widened seeing a single tear rolling down my cheek. Before continuing Jisung watched me with shaking hands carefully set the glass flute on the vanity behind me.

“I- I want you to be happy. If you’re happy with Jiho then I will go out into that church and clap when you get hitched. Because, that's what friends fucking do and that I can give you. But...if there is any chance....any part of you...that loves me at all....even a little bit....”

He gulped, fingers ferociously twisting the rings on his right hand. Not many would believe it, but Jisung was shy. Introverted. It was rare to see him like this. Jisung wasn’t afraid or nervous, but more timid or demure. I could almost see his heart physically stop beating as I opened my mouth to speak.

“I’m not happy, Ji.” He blinked, big, brown, doe eyes trying to understand what I meant. “I want to be. But, I can’t be happy with someone I don’t love. I don’t care about the money or the gifts. I just.....want my fireworks. I think you can understand that more than anyone.”

Jisung nodded dejectedly, shoving his hands into the pockets of the blazer that seemed to be holding itself together with only a few threads. He seemed to not understand what I was saying. “I do....understand- I mean. That’s all I want for you. If you can’t be happy with Jiho or me then-”

“Fuck, Ji. You really are dense aren’t you?”

“What?”

Reaching forward, I twisted the collar of Jisung’s slightly unbuttoned shirt and pulled him closer. Before our lips even touched I could feel electricity in the air, sparking and making room hotter. Finally feeling my lips against his sent my stomach on a rollercoaster; twisting, turning, loop de loops, and free falls giving me the greatest feeling spreading to the rest of my body.

The feeling of my fingers sliding up his neck, must have brought Jisung out of whatever shock induced daze he was in. Like second nature his arms wrapped around me, cool hands pressing into the bare skin of my back. There was nothing but fire in my stomach as Jisung dragged his lips over mine at a painstakingly slow pace. The man smiled feeling me pull and tangle my fingers in his soft dark tresses.

“Fireworks?” I asked, pulling away with my bottom lip snagged between my teeth.

“Millions.” Jisung’s thumb brushed over my cheek before he leaned back in capturing my lips in another death defying kiss. “Did you drive here? I took the train.” He mumbled between kisses.

I laughed feeling happier than any moment before in my life. “My car is out back. You’re driving.”

Opening my eyes, I saw that signature smirk my best friend was famous for. For the first time I knew why my insides did flips when it was directed at me. Lacing his fingers with mine he dragged me from the dressing room and led me through the halls as fast as we could run with one of us in a wedding dress. As we reached the car, slamming the doors shut, the bells in the chapel started to ring making the both of us grin. Jisung leaned over, fastening my seatbelt before kissing my lips like they were his only source of air.

“You make quite the gorgeous runaway bride,”

❃

Masterlist

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blueprint-han · 3 years

Text

ex.

↪ so many what if’s. who would give you those answers?

— where in you stumble into your ex at a friend’s wedding, and the subsequent conversation leads to new hope blooming in your relationship.

pairing: chan x reader

genre: ex au; angst with a fluffy ending.

⇥ warnings: themes/mentions of break up/make up, mentions of alcohol, please let me know if I miss a warning. please note that i, by no means condone any toxic relationships. this fic here with bang chan and Y/N is NOT an example of a toxic relationship or an implication of bang chan’s actions in real life. please take it as fiction.

word count: 3.3 K

type: one shot.

⇥ disclaimer: this fiction does not represent the activities of the real Bang Chan, nor is associated with JYPE in any form. Events are pure fiction. ♡

↯ note: I decided to merge your request with the prompt because it’s angst and guess who’s the queen of angst? You !! 😌 This was picked up from ex, as you can see and again your url ~vibes~ so uwu hope you enjoy it, this is my first time writing angst tho so please go easy on me. <3 Love you mom <333 ⇥ dawn.☀️

The dance hall’s fairly crowded when you take another shot of your martini, drowning in its essence as you make a desperate attempt to disconnect yourself from your vicinity. You wanna believe you’re drunk, though it’s not true in the slightest — you can still feel, hear, see everything around you clearly — the alcohol’s clearly not having its effect today. You wish, oh so dearly wish it did, because the man standing about two tables away from you really doesn’t deserve the attention you’re giving him right now.

The last thing you’d expected when you entered the hall to attend your friend’s wedding was to stumble right into the one man you’d been trying to avoid for the past two months. At that very moment, you cursed all the odds for making you face the man of your nightmares, the one who broke your heart.

Bang Chan.

Sure enough, just like when he’d dropped the news on you, all the butterflies in your stomach drop dead one by one, gloom and desolation taking over. The mere sight of him is enough to send you into a frenzy of confusion — you feel the flutter in your heart to know that he’s doing okay, but you can also feel that pit of sadness, anger and heartbreak mixed to wash over as one of the most conflicting feelings ever.

“O-oh, hi there, Y/N.” Chan had waved a hand and bowed down, but you shakily nodded your head, not bothering to give him any words of acknowledgement as you stumbled into the hall. How is it that you didn’t notice him until half the wedding was over? How could you forget that he was supposed to attend, because he was the bride’s friend alike?

Was it wrong that part of you still wished that you could be standing next to him, watching him as he introduced you to his friends, calling you “his girlfriend”?

You wondered what the look on Chan’s face would’ve been when you left his greeting hanging in the cold air like that. Was he broken on the inside too? Or did he simply not care? He’d been the one to end it, after all. He looks smart right now — adorning a luxurious black suit, his brownish hair slicked neatly to the side and parted. The delicate silver chain you’d given him on his birthday is oddly still on his neck — you promise yourself to not think about it much, because you know it’ll give you hope — and hope’s a dangerous feeling, at least for you.

When the music starts blaring through the speakers and the couple start dancing together, you sigh, straightening your posture from where you’re leaning against the shot table. Your friend has the prettiest smile plastered onto her face — it comes naturally to her, you figure, seeming as to how she’s married to the love of her life right now. They both seem lost — almost peaceful — as they stare into each other’s eyes. Soon, more and more couples join, until the whole hall is filled with everyone dancing on their heels, twirling and smiling and dancing gracefully. Everyone except you, of course.

You sigh, fixing the hem of your swan-white dress. Way to go for your mood to be ruined — all because you happened to stumble upon your ex boyfriend, and thoughts consumed you as a whole. Was it so wrong of you to wish that you could go back in time and change his decision? You’d moved on from this — you’d told yourself you’d moved on a month ago. You wiped him out of your memory — all the things that reminded you of him — but what if you’d only patched up the wound, not healed it in the slightest? What if the person who held the key to repair your broken heart was held by a person who you’d let go, and by all means, couldn’t reach out now?

So many what if’s. Who would give you those answers? He surely hadn’t, when all he did was just break it out to you over a meeting at the park that he’d fallen out of love with you.

You never understood what happened. It just started with the less frequent messages and meet ups, the excuse of always being busy, and that slowly morphed into him ignoring you for days, until one day he broke the news and ended it, on good terms. Or at least you thought so.

You sigh again, asking the bartender to lend you one bottle of the drink — which he does without question — before you walk over to the staircase that seems to lead to the terrace. Away from the risk of your eyes landing on him and your thoughts going all over the place again. If only you could walk away from the pit of emotions in your heart the same way. If only.

When you kick the almost rusted door open, the fresh blast of cold air that hits you makes you sigh in relief. You tuck several strands of hair neatly behind your ear, walking to the edge as you glance at the view. Leaning against the concrete, you let the lights coming from the night cityscape blur your vision, along with the faint, distant echoing of horns coming from the roads fill your ears. It’s a distraction, after all.

You pop open the cork of the bottle, letting the fizz bubble down before pressing your lips against the rim. One gulp, two, you then gaze up at the night sky. Rinse and repeat, until the whole bottle is almost finished. You ignore the void in your heart, filling it with the essence of alcohol and ignoring the feelings bubbling in it right now.

Chan was like a drug — so addicting and so hard to get rid of once you got into the habit of consuming it regularly. You wanted to reach out and hold onto those memories you shared with him — he was the first person where you let your heart do the talking, and all it took was a look at another person to change lanes, leave you alone in the dust of your crushed heart — only to come to the disappointing note that you’d lost those memories forever. They existed merely in a place you couldn’t reach, couldn’t see, but could only recall. It was pure torture to you, but you’d ignored it all for so long, certainly you could ignore it again.

“Need a refill?”

Your head snaps back in the direction of the voice. A familiar, one soothing voice that now brings pain to your heart, now threatens to bring back the wave of emotions you’d kept at bay.

Your eyes meet the hazel brown orbs, and not diverting from their strong, fierce gaze; you scoff, turning back around to stare off into the distance.

Chan frowns, tilting his chin as he tries to soothe the burn from your two reactions. He doesn’t back away though, because now he maybe understands what you felt like when it all fell apart, when he wrote your ending with a shaky hand.

He walks front to where you’re leaning against the concrete, silently drinking out of the glass he holds in his hand.

Should I say something? He thinks. He should, right? When you ended it, you did end on peaceful terms, even though your reaction felt like you were more affected by it. Even after three months, he still feels the warmth that flowed through him whenever he looks at you — you who clearly don’t want to speak to him. He feels crazy now, for wanting to let you go.

You hadn’t even bothered to curse at him that day — just looked at him with eyes that honestly pierced through his soul, and hurt him more than any of your words could’ve. But maybe that was what he deserved, right?

“Why did you come here?” You ask, swirling the almost empty bottle in your hand. Oddly enough, you don’t feel like walking away, feet frozen in position. You’d ended it on good terms, didn’t you? You’d promised to each other you’d be good friends.

“I noticed you were alone.” The man feels himself say.

“Didn’t you bring your girlfriend along? Isn’t she alone right now?” You counter, taking another sip of your drink. Again, the alcohol is having no effect on you. Why did your tolerance have to be so high when you needed it to be low?

“I-” He takes a deep breath, tilting his head to either side to relieve the tension in his neck. “Broke up with her. About three weeks ago.”

You only chuckle. Somehow, your feelings are strong when he’s away, but when the cause is right in front of you, somehow they fail to make an appearance.

“Did you come here so you could win me back?” You ask, straightening up as you avoid Chan’s firm gaze on you, and his face goes gloomier and gloomier with every statement you spew at him. But then again, who could blame you for being angry? You had every right to.

“No.” He shook his head, fixing his position so his shoulders are about an inch away from yours. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m alright.” You say, softening at the edges at his concerned tone. You don’t know why you’re listening to him and not going back into the hall, but your legs are still frozen in place, something in you, your heart, doesn’t let you move.

Why do you feel like it’s your first time meeting him all over again?

He’s your ex, a part of your life you’re supposed to forget. Instead, you’re here, reminiscing it with the very person who left you in the first place. The situation you’re bound in is so weird — you almost don’t know what to do — but nonetheless, you just stand there, ignoring the slight flutter in your heart — just like the first time again.

“How are you doing?” You give yourself the liberty to ask him that question — just to know how he’s doing. Just another way for you to answer your countless what if’s, another method to try and fill the void in your heart.

Chan sighs, straightening up himself before looking at you. “I missed you.”

At the simple admission, you soften around the edges some more. It was wrong, so wrong that you were giving him to permission to get into your heart again — but what if you never wanted him to leave in the first place?

Hope — the dangerous feeling — starts resonating through your chest. It’s the tiniest emotion, one you can’t quite sense, but still feel. You can feel yourself grow warm, feel his gaze burn into the side of your face as he awaits a reaction.

“I-I don’t know what to say to that.” You reply, tucking some of your hair behind your ear again, before curling it with your index finger. You don’t look into his eyes yet — you’re not so brave to do so — focusing your bored, almost sad gaze as you count all the lights flashing at you on a skyscraper. Anything to distract you from this feeling.

Chan notices your stare, and sighs again. He’s battling himself too, right now. Should I say it? He thinks.

“I-I’ll be honest and confess to you, okay?” Chan turns to face you properly, while you bite your lip, waiting for his next words. Oddly enough, you feel more nervous now than you felt that day when Chan ended it with you. It’s so weird to feel it all over again.

“I’ve missed you and… I truly regret what I did that day.” He runs his hands through his chocolate brown hair, which seems to look particularly soft today. It reminds you of when you’d casually back hug him when he was working, pecking the back of his neck as you’d comb your fingers through his hair.

“Chan, no.” You feel your voice crack, the sadness overflowing out of its cup, spreading to all your senses as you close your eyes, letting out a single tear.

“Y/N…” Chan places his hand on your shoulder. You don’t flinch.

“Y-You l-left me.” You feel your brain cloud over, having no control over yourself as the words start spilling out of your mouth, piercing Chan’s heart bit by bit. “Y-You l-left me when I thought you’d stay… And you left me alone.” You feel his thumb rub against the bare skin of your shoulder, and this time, you stare up, looking straight into his eyes.

“I loved you,” You stammer, inhaling deeply as you take note of Chan’s expression. Surprisingly, he’s crying too. The rims of his eyes are filled with tears, his whole face goes red as he tries not to violently sob. “I love you.” You correct yourself.

“But you left me. You left me when I thought all I had was you and - and, what? Three months later, you tell me you miss me? Is this because your girlfriend broke up with you? You wanna win me back?” You spew, slamming your hand against his chest as you shake in his arms.

He wordlessly pulls you into his embrace, and you don’t complain — you don’t know if it’s because of your brain being cloudy and your eyes being all itchy from crying, or if it was because you missed his hugs, but you feel yourself clutch onto the material of your shirt as you cry, cry and cry until you feel like your tears don’t remain.

“I’m so sorry…” Is all he can say, wrapping his arms around your shoulders as he tries to comfort you.

“I hate you, Chan. I hate you so much.”

Something in him shatters when he hears your words. He wordlessly mouths “Alright.” and doesn’t bother controlling his tears anymore, letting them flow down his cheeks and settle into your hair, not bothering to hold back the sounds of brokenness he makes either.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” He pulls away, holding your chin to force your gaze into his eyes. “I shouldn’t have done that to you, it was so wrong of me. I regret it now, so much.” He curls his lips inwards, and watching him cry is soul-crushing. You should be hating him for leaving you, screaming, crying, but you hate yourself for reaching up to rake through his hair, sliding your hand down to his soft cheek before gently swiping your thumb against it. Wiping off his tears.

“We’ve already forgiven each other, right? It’s okay.” You take deep breaths to calm yourself down. Leaving him behind seems hard enough, but seeing him cry in front of you seems impossible. Are you still in love with him?

“I’m still sorry.” He mutters softly, gazing into your eyes as he takes hold of the hand that rests on his cheek. “I was so horrible to not know that I had you beside me all along, and instead I turned my back at you and left you. It was so wrong of me.” he breaks into tears again, and this time, before you can pull him into a hug, he grabs both your hands in his own. Holding them in between each other.

Yep, you’re still in love with him.

You look at him, absorbing all his features, and suddenly you’re thrown back to the first time he ever asked you out. It seems all too familiar — all too real. You find yourself holding your breath once again, waiting for what he has to say. He rests his forehead against your grasped hands, sighing brokenly as he speaks up.

“I won’t ask you to accept me again, Y/N.” He says as a matter of fact. He understands that the things that happened may not allow you to let him into your heart again. “I won’t ask you to date me either, because I know what I did isn’t that simple to forgive.”

Chan feels so stupid now. You were there for him all the time, yet he left you for someone else. You were beside him to help him when he felt desolated, but somehow he became a cause for your desolation. It shocks, confuses him and makes him seethe in turmoil.

“But,” he begins, holding his breath. “I still want to try. I wanna try being the person I couldn’t be when I was with you. I-I wanna change and win you back, b-but…”

“But?” You ask mindlessly, totally overwhelmed and dazed out by his honest words, the newfound emotion thrums to your chest. It’s love, for sure. But it isn’t that special kind of love, at least not yet.

“But I wanna do that only if you let me. It’s your choice, Y/N.”

Your eyes widen as you try to grasp his words, noticing how his warm hands holding onto yours still, only grow warmer and tighter.

“I r-really love you Y/N, a lot. And… well, I know you may not be able to make this decision soon. But please, just give it a thought?”

You shake your head, a soft smile tugging at your lips as you look up into his eyes again. They’re red and puffy by now, but they’re still gorgeous, they still remind you of the time you’d gently kiss over his eyelids whenever he cried like that.

You roll your eyes to the back of your head in deep thought, before tucking your bottom lip under your teeth and nodding. “Okay.”

“Okay…?” He asks, hopeful. You can almost feel his nervousness in the way his palms sweat, but you simply smile.

“We won’t date yet.” You said. “But I’ll allow you into my heart one last time. Don’t break it.”

And at your acceptance, Chan beams, feeling more tears roll down his eyes as he pulls you into a hug. This time, you don’t spare any restraint, wrapping your arms around your waist as you press your cheek against his chest. “Thank you, thank you, thank you…” Chan keeps mumbling and repeating, to which you only shush him gently, telling him it’s okay and he doesn’t have to thank him.

He still does. You only smile to yourself, and for the first time in three months, you feel somewhat at peace. There’s a long way to go — you have to adapt to this relationship, let your heart join back bit by bit and build each other’s confidence again. But you’re certain you can do it together. This story deserved a happy ending, and you were going to give it one, no matter how hard you’d have to try.

“Hey guys!” You hear someone walk through the door, immediately parting away and clearing your throats.

“Yes?” The both of you say at the same time, tensing up and then laughing at each other. If Chan’s tears were crushing, Chan’s giggles were truly healing. The way his eyes would scrunch up into the cutest crescents and his dimples would make an appearance always made you want to peck his cheeks. Now wasn’t the time though.

“Dinner’s being served, so Y/F/N told you to come downstairs.” The person at the door says, immediately running downstairs, as if to not interrupt your moment any further.

“Alright.” You laugh, taking Chan’s hands in yours as you intertwine your nimble fingers with his long, slender ones. “Let’s go shall we?” You don’t bother picking up the alcohol bottles, because you’ll be coming back here with your friends later anyways — they can be tended to later.

“Of course,” Chan pulls you along with him, running to the door — both the ones that lead to the diner and the ones that signified your new start.

Curse at me all you want, as long as you let it all out, and we can go back to how we were.

*:･ﾟ✧ find the other fics here !

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