forty

"i hope we remain like this forever." -if you leave me, seventeen. ——

the car stopped in front of pledis' building, and misun's heart was already racing. she pulled her mask a little higher, glancing around before stepping out.

just like he promised, the guard at the side entrance nodded and let her in without a word.

the halls were quiet, the air filled with that faint clean scent of studios and practice rooms—soft echoes of music and laughter floating from somewhere distant.

and then she saw him.

jihoon was waiting near the elevator, hands tucked in the pockets of his black hoodie, black shorts loose around his knees. his hair was slightly messy, longer now, the soft strands pushed back with a thin black headband.

he looked... different. older. calmer. but when he smiled at her—small, shy, familiar—she forgot how to breathe.

"you made it," he said.

"yeah," she managed, her voice quieter than she meant it to be. "you're really not worried someone will see me?"

"don't worry," he said simply. "scoups just left the building, the fans followed him."

the elevator doors slid open, and she followed him in. the silence was warm, not awkward—but charged, like every second carried too many unsaid things.

"you still overthink everything," he said softly, glancing at her reflection in the elevator door.

"and you still act like nothing's ever a big deal," she replied.

he smiled faintly. "maybe that's why we worked."

she didn't answer, but the corner of her mouth lifted.

when the doors opened, he led her down the hall and unlocked his studio.

the moment she stepped inside, she stopped.

it wasn't what she expected—not the cold, high-tech space she imagined. it was warm, soft light filling every corner. there was a couch, blankets tossed carelessly on one side, a few empty cans of coke on the desk, and dozens of sticky notes scattered near the monitors. guitars lined the wall, their strings catching the light.

"so this is where you disappear for hours?" she asked quietly.

"pretty much." he smiled and motioned toward the couch. "sit. i want to show you something."

she sat down slowly, glancing around one last time before focusing on him. he slipped his headphones off the desk and set them aside, turning in his chair toward the computer.

"don't laugh," he warned. "it's still rough."

"i won't."

he hit play.

the soft hum of the intro filled the room—if you leave me.

misun froze. her chest tightened almost immediately. the melody was gentle, aching—the kind that felt like remembering something you'd tried to forget.

and then the lyrics came.

if you leave in the distant future, i probably won't be able to live.

her throat closed up. she pressed a hand to her chest, blinking fast, but the tears still rose.

even the time we were apart for just a while, makes my heart flutter.i know it's not gonna happen,but just imagining it makes me cry.

by the time the second chorus hit, they'd already slipped down her cheeks.

if you leave me (what can i do?)all my days (you're the reason i'm alive and breathing)

jihoon turned in his chair slowly, noticing her. his expression softened, worry flickering in his eyes. he stood up, walked over, and without a word, sat beside her.

his hand hesitated for a second—then gently rested on her leg. not possessive. just there. grounding.

she didn't move away.

he exhaled softly, his thumb brushing against her knee once.

i want to hold your hand, just stay with me.

when the song ended, the room fell quiet except for the sound of her breathing. she wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand and finally looked at him.

"it's beautiful," she whispered. "painful, but beautiful."

he gave a small smile. "i wrote it for you."

her breath caught. "what?"

"every line," he said quietly. "it's everything i couldn't say."

for a moment, neither of them spoke. the air between them was heavy, thick with everything they'd held back for years.

then he whispered, "misun... is it wrong that i want to kiss you right now?"

her heart skipped. she stared at him—the way his eyes searched hers, careful and trembling, and then moved down to her lips. she shook her head slowly.

as he leaned closer, he asked. "can i?"

she nodded once, barely breathing.

and when he kissed her, it was slow—hesitant at first, like he was afraid she'd disappear if he pushed too far. his hand lifted, fingers brushing against her cheek, and she felt her heart unravel.

four years. four years since his lips had touched hers, and somehow it still felt like coming home.

the kiss deepened, their breaths uneven, his hand sliding to the back of her neck. she clutched his hoodie, pulling him closer without realizing it.

he pulled away just enough to whisper against her lips, "i missed this."

"me too," she breathed, her voice trembling.

he smiled faintly, eyes still closed, forehead resting against hers.

and for the first time in years, the silence between them didn't hurt. it felt like hope.