thirteen

"go ahead and break my heart again." -break my heart again, finneas.

——

misun's phone buzzed softly on the nightstand. she didn't think much of it at first—probably a reminder, or maybe a message from chaewon. but when she reached for it, her heart froze.

it was an unknown number. and when she read the message, it made her stomach drop.

jihoon.

her fingers trembled as she unlocked her phone, her breath catching when she saw the message. made sure it was real.

unknown number: hey... it's me, jihoon. how are you doing?

her chest tightened, heart pounding so hard it almost hurt. for a long time, she just stared at it, her eyes tracing the words over and over, as if reading them enough times would make them feel less real.

why now? after all this time? what does he want?

she sank back against her pillow, pulling the blanket up to her chin, eyes wide in the dim light of her room. the years she spent trying to move on, the nights she convinced herself she didn't miss him—all of it came crashing down at once.

she typed a reply. deleted it. typed again. deleted it again.

every word felt wrong. too cold. too emotional. too fake.

finally, she put her phone face down on the nightstand.her heart wouldn't stop racing. her mind wouldn't stop spinning.

she didn't sleep that night. every time she closed her eyes, she saw him. his smile, his voice, the way he used to call her sunshine.

when morning came, her eyes were red and puffy. she found her mother in the kitchen, already making coffee.

"you look tired," her mom said softly. "bad dream?"

misun hesitated before sitting down. "he texted me."

her mom blinked, setting the spoon down slowly. "...jihoon?"

misun nodded, staring at her hands. "last night. he said, hey, it's me, jihoon. how are you doing?" her voice cracked at the end.

her mother was quiet for a moment. then, gently, "and how do you feel about that?"

misun swallowed hard. "i don't know. i feel everything. i feel scared. i feel... like it's happening all over again. i shouldn't feel this way. i told myself i wouldn't."

"sweetheart," her mother said softly, reaching across the table, "sometimes feelings don't listen to reason. but that doesn't mean you have to rush into anything. take your time. answer when you're ready."

misun nodded weakly. "what if he's just being polite? what if he doesn't mean anything by it? what if he just wants to ease his guilt?"

"then you'll know," her mother said simply. "but don't let fear decide for you."

misun sighed, resting her chin on her palm. she didn't answer right away. she couldn't. not yet.

jihoon sat on the couch, phone in hand. it had been almost twenty hours since he sent that message.

he had checked it at least a hundred times.

the word seen sat under his text like a wound that wouldn't close.

he leaned back, exhaling shakily. "she saw it," he muttered to himself. "of course she did. and she didn't reply."

his chest ached in that familiar way it used to—the kind of ache that came from missing something he could never have again.

she hates me. she probably thinks i'm pathetic for texting her after all this time. why did i do that? i should've just left it alone. she's moved on.

he tossed the phone onto the couch beside him and rubbed his face with both hands.

he tried to distract himself—turned on music, flipped through the tv, even sat at his desk to write lyrics.

but everything came back to her. every melody sounded like her laugh. every word reminded him of her voice.

the phone buzzed. he froze.

his heart skipped a beat as he reached for it, hands trembling.

misun: hey jihoon... i'm okay. it's been a while.

he stared at the message for a long moment, relief flooding through him so strong it made his eyes sting.

she answered.

a small smile tugged at his lips, shaky but real.

and just like that, the silence between them—the silence that had lasted for years—finally broke.