twenty six

"let's raise a glass or two, to all the things i've lost on you." -lost on you, lp.

——

2018

the night was warm, the city lights spilling over the quiet streets as jihoon parked in front of misun's house. she smiled softly, the glow from the streetlamp casting a faint shimmer across her face.

"you'll come for dinner, right?" she asked, her voice hopeful.

he nodded, brushing his thumb against her knuckles. "of course. i'll finish practice and come straight after."

she grinned, her eyes crinkling the way he loved. "don't be late this time."

he chuckled softly. "i won't."

when she leaned in to hug him, he felt that familiar warmth—the one that always reminded him why everything felt worth it. he kissed her forehead, then her lips, softly, like a promise.

it was slow—the kind of kiss that didn't ask for anything, only lingered. her lips were soft, familiar, like a memory he never wanted to forget. she tilted her head slightly, her fingers brushing his cheek, and he exhaled quietly against her mouth.

he deepened it just a little—not urgent, not rushed—just enough to feel her smile between the kiss, the corners of her lips curving faintly against his.

for a second, the noise of the world faded. there was no debut, no stage, no cameras, no pressure. just her. just them.

when they finally pulled apart, she opened her eyes slowly, cheeks flushed, a soft smile tugging at her lips.

"see you soon," she whispered before walking up to her door. she turned back one last time, waving as he waved back, smiling.

he drove off.

and that was the last time she saw him.

later that night, the house smelled like freshly cooked japchae and grilled beef. misun sat at the dining table, still dressed in the outfit she wore when she met him. she checked her phone—no new messages.

7:30 pm.

misun: are you on your way?

8:15 pm.

misun: are you still at work?

her mom peeked out from the kitchen. "sweetheart, the food's getting cold."

"just a few minutes, mom," misun said quickly, glancing at the screen again. "he'll come soon."

her mom sighed softly. "you've been saying that for an hour, dear. come eat a little."

but misun shook her head. "he said he'll come. maybe he's just stuck in practice."

she tried to sound confident. tried to believe it.

10:06 pm.

she called him.

the call rang once. twice. then went straight to voicemail.

she frowned.

he must be busy. maybe his phone died.

but deep down, something in her chest began to ache.

11:02 pm.

she texted again.

misun: jihoon, are you okay? i'm worried.

nothing.

she waited.

and waited.

by midnight, her plate of food sat untouched.

her mom came and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "maybe he's just busy tonight. come sleep, hm?"

misun nodded weakly. "yeah. maybe."

but she didn't sleep. she stayed up, staring at her phone screen until her eyes burned.

his phone buzzed beside him, the screen lighting up with her name.

he stared at it.

then at the wall in front of him.

the studio was dark except for the faint light of his laptop. the clock on the wall read 9:30 pm. the rest of the members had left, but he stayed behind—pretending to work, but not really working.

he couldn't breathe right. not since the conversation he'd had that morning.

his manager's words echoed in his head.

"we can't afford distractions, jihoon. fans notice everything. one mistake, one rumor—it'll all come crashing down."

"you're the producer. the leader of the music. you don't have time for this kind of thing. if you fall, your members fall too."

he'd nodded quietly then, but his stomach twisted the whole day.

his phone buzzed again.

misun <3 calling...

he reached out—his thumb hovering above the screen—but he didn't pick up.

he couldn't.

he turned the phone face down.

his chest hurt. his throat burned. but he told himself it was for the best.

one call, one photo, one rumor—that's all it would take.

he thought about his members, their futures, the company's trust.

and then he thought about her smile.

the weight of it crushed him.

by the time her last text came through, his hands were shaking.

he stared at it for a long time.

typed something. deleted it.

typed again. deleted it again.

his eyes blurred.

he shut his phone off.

for a long moment, he sat there in silence, the room spinning around him.

his breath came out shaky. his palms pressed to his eyes.

"i'm sorry," he whispered to no one. "i'm so sorry."

he told himself he'd explain later—that it was temporary. that once things calmed down, he'd tell her everything.

but days turned into weeks.

weeks into months.

and before he knew it, years had passed.

and she had stopped calling.