013

*Warning, this chapter is almost 4000 words long and is a emotional rollercoaster, get tissues ready*

Seunghyun's POV 

Three hours.I'd been sitting on the damn stairs outside Ji Yong's house for three whole hours.

At some point, my legs stopped tingling and just went numb. The sun had moved across the sky, and I kept shifting around to stay in the shade like a weird little gremlin guarding a door. I had my survival kit: a cup of convenience store instant ramen, pills for dizziness and headaches (which I hadn't taken but he might need), an energy drink I knew he liked, and—

God.

The card.

The stupid glittery card from the gas station that said "Sorry" with a picture of a fluffy cat holding a broken flower and way too much sparkle. What was I thinking. I wasn't even sure who I bought it for—him or me. I felt like an idiot holding it, so I shoved it deeper into the paper bag and sighed.

Then my phone buzzed.

"I'm going to."

For a second I didn't even process it. My brain had sort of gone fuzzy from the waiting. But when I did—I stood up so fast I nearly tripped over my own feet. Wiped the dust off my pants, tried to smooth my shirt down, fix my hair—too late, the door opened.

And there he was.

Ji Yong.

Skin and bones, with those too-big eyes that didn't shine anymore. Huge eyebags. His hair stuck out like he'd just fought with a pillow and lost. His clothes looked like he'd slept in them for days—and maybe he had.

My hands went slack. The bags slipped from my fingers and landed on the floor with a thud I barely noticed. My body moved before my brain could catch up.

I pulled him in. Hugged him.

At first, he was stiff. Like he didn't know what to do with arms around him anymore. But I didn't care. I just held tighter. Something inside me cracked open, and the tears started coming without warning. Embarrassingly fast.

I heard it, faintly. His breath hitching. A small, choked sound from deep in his chest.

Then—He hugged me back.

Tight.

So tight. Like he was trying to climb into my skin just to feel something warm again. His fingers clutched the back of my shirt, and he was shaking, and we were both crying like idiots right there in the doorway.

I didn't care.

I would've stood there forever.

"Idiot..." Ji yong mumbled into my shoulder, voice cracked and wet. "Idiot, idiot! You absolute idiot! You could have died! You were gonna leave me alone!"

We were still hugging. Crying. Shaking. I could feel how thin he was, like if I squeezed too hard he'd snap in half. I didn't dare let go.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry."

"I hate you," he choked, fists weakly pressing against my back.

"I deserve it."

"I hate that I don't hate you."

A breath caught in my chest. My arms tightened around him. "You don't?"

"I don't know."

A silence. Just the street sounds, and our breathing, ragged and real.

I pulled back a little, just enough to see his face, red and wet and raw. "Can I come in?"

He didn't answer for a second. Just looked at me. Then nodded.

"Yes."

I bent down and gathered the things I'd brought—my hands were shaking a little, but I blamed it on the nerves and not the crying. Ji said I could come in, and I didn't wait another second. I stepped over the threshold and into the place that still felt like home, even if it hadn't been for a while. His house smelled the same. Like his detergent and something faintly herbal, and dust. A little emptier maybe, but still his.

The first few seconds felt awkward. I lingered near the entrance, not knowing if I should kick off my shoes or stand like a guest. My arms still felt like they were supposed to be holding him. But then, something soft brushed my shin, and I looked down to see Zoa.

"Hey, Zoa," I whispered. Her little purr vibrated against my leg, and my heart cracked a little more. "Looks like she missed me," I said out loud, unsure if I was talking to myself or Ji.

He didn't answer. He was just watching me. I could feel it.

I moved to the kitchen table and carefully placed everything down—the bag crinkled loudly in the quiet space. Ji followed me, slow steps behind mine, like he wasn't sure how close to be. I took the stuff out one by one and lined them up like I was presenting something sacred. The ramen, the energy drink, the little pharmacy bag. I tried not to look at him directly.

"I brought these," I started, my voice more hoarse than I expected. "The noodles... just in case you didn't have anything. I remember you used to like this brand, right? The one with extra garlic. And the drink, I know it's sugary as hell but it's your favorite. The pills, uh... for the headache, and dizziness, or... whatever."

I kept unpacking as I talked, until only one thing was left—the card.

I hesitated. Ji's eyes were already on it, of course. That stupid glittery cat. I hadn't planned to give it to him first, but now it was the only thing left. I placed it on the table, next to the others, like it didn't make me want to crawl into a hole.

He reached for it without a word.

I could see the way his fingers trembled a little. His eyes scanned the sparkly front—the glitter already dusting his fingertips. The cartoon cat said "I'm sorry!" in rainbow bubble letters. It looked like a toddler had picked it.

He sniffled, but didn't open it. He just stared at it like it was both ridiculous and devastating. "You really thought I would like this?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

I tried to explain, my cheeks hot. "I—no. I mean. Yes? I don't know, I just saw it, and it was stupid but also... you love cats. And glitter. And it looked dumb enough to maybe make you smile? I thought, fuck it, it's worth a try."

That was when he started crying again. Quiet at first, but it hit hard.

"I do like it," he said between sobs. "Fuck. I love glitter and cats. You really thought I would like it? God, the worst part is that I do. I do like it."

He hugged the card to his chest like it was a lifeline, like it physically hurt to hold it. I didn't know what to say. My mouth opened a little, then closed. Nothing would've been enough anyway.

"You're such a fucking idiot, Choi Seunghyun."

"I know," I whispered. And I did. God, I did.

He wiped his nose on his sleeve like a little kid. His eyes were rimmed red and wet and angry and soft all at once. "You should've died just for making me like this stupid card."

A small, broken smile tugged at my lips. "Sorry I failed."

He looked up at me like he wanted to throw something at my head. Like he wanted to wrap his arms around me again. Like he didn't know what to do with me—whether to hate me, kiss me, scream in my face or fall asleep on my shoulder. I could've taken any of it. I would've taken it all.

"Sit down," he muttered, already turning away, sniffling as he grabbed one of the ramen cups from the counter.

"What?" I blinked, still standing there like a guest in my own life.

"I'm making you food, asshole."

"But I brought it for you."

"Well, now you're eating it too. Sit. I'm not crying alone with this cat."

I looked down and saw Zoa still circling around my legs like nothing had changed, like the world hadn't nearly ended. She meowed softly and flicked her tail against my calf, then padded off after Ji. I took a breath and finally sat, my fingers laced tightly in my lap.

The kitchen felt warmer than I remembered. Or maybe I just missed it too much.

Ji Yong moved around the kitchen like muscle memory was doing all the work for him. He didn't say anything, didn't look at me, just boiled the water and opened the ramen cups I'd brought. I stayed where he told me—on the stool, next to Zoa, who kept brushing against my leg like I was something warm and worth loving. I scratched behind her ears absentmindedly, watching Ji Yong from behind.

His shoulders were tense, his head low, but he didn't tell me to leave. That was something.

The kettle clicked. He poured the water, then slid the lids closed and tapped them down, like sealing a wound.

We didn't talk. Not while we waited, not while we pulled off the plastic lids and stirred the noodles with wooden chopsticks that didn't quite match. We just sat at his kitchen table, eating the cheap food I'd bought because I didn't know what else to do with my guilt.

Halfway through slurping a mouthful, he spoke, voice low and flat.

"When did you start?"

I blinked. "Start what?"

"Smoking weed."

My stomach tightened. I dropped my gaze to the steam coming off the cup. "It was just a few times..."

"When?"

"October. 2016."

He didn't answer right away, just let the number sit in the air, then: "How many times?"

"Four."

"I read the articles," he muttered, not looking at me. "That's why I'm asking. They said worse things."

"Right."

"Why?"

I swallowed. Not the noodles, the question. I looked down at my cup, like maybe there was something in it that would explain me.

"The first time... it was just a party thing. Seo-hee got it and—"

"Seo-hee?" His head snapped up.

"Yeah."

He laughed then. Bitter and sharp, like it scraped something in his throat. His tongue ran along the inside of his cheek before he spoke again. "Of course. Seo-hee. I knew it couldn't have been just you. Someone had to... Christ. I never liked her."

There was venom in his voice now, and I could barely meet his eyes.

"God. Is she being punished too?"

I hesitated. "I don't think so."

"What?!"

His voice cracked like a whip. Zoa jumped off my lap.

"You don't think so," he repeated, quieter now, but his stare was loud. "So you ruin your life, your image, get dragged through hell by the media, the fans, the law—and she just... what? Posts her avocado toast in peace?"

"I don't know," I said, even though I did. She was fine. Living her life. Pretending none of it had happened. People forgot her name fast enough.

He scoffed. "Unbelievable."

"I'm not blaming her," I added. "It was my decision. I knew what it was."

"But she didn't suffer," Ji Yong said, like that was the part he couldn't forgive.

"No."

He shook his head slowly, like he was chewing on something he couldn't swallow. His hands gripped the edge of the table. I wanted to say something to fix it, but I didn't know where to start. Or if he even wanted me to.

"And the other thing?" he asked quietly, without looking at me.

"The other...?" I mumbled, though I knew exactly what he meant.

"Killing yourself. Why? When? And most importantly, why didn't you tell me?"

The air in the room got heavier than the steam rising from the ramen. I stared at my half-empty glass, trying to find words that didn't sound like excuses. There weren't many. Maybe none at all.

I swallowed hard.

"When the news came out... when they found out about the weed," I started slowly, like the words were soaked and tearing apart as I tried to speak. "The only thing I could think about was how it would hurt BigBang."

Silence. Then, more quietly:"And you."

Ji Yong let out a laugh — sharp, dry, completely humorless. Bitter.

"Yeah, right. Like I'm that important to you," he muttered.

I turned toward him, stunned. Hurt.

"What? Ji... of course you are."

He shook his head.

"Yeah, okay."

"Ji," I said, leaning slightly closer, voice steady despite everything shaking inside me. "You are. You are."

His lips trembled just a little, but he didn't say anything. He didn't even look at me. Like he was biting down on all the pain just to keep it in, just to stay upright. I wanted to reach for him. To tell him it wasn't only about him — but that he was the one person who might've stopped me, the one voice I needed and couldn't bear to hear.

"I didn't want to see you cry," I said, the words falling out like a confession I'd been holding for years. "I preferred to die than become some burden you had to carry. I just... I didn't want to be a rock on your path. I just wanted you to be happy."

His eyes snapped up to meet mine. Furious. Hurt.

"And you thought that dying was the way?" he said, voice trembling with rage. "Yeah, very considerate to fucking disappear. I really appreciated that."

I opened my mouth, but the shame flooded faster than any reply. Still, I forced the words out. "Well, I've already realized that. That's why I'm here. That's why I talked to Taeyang, that's why—"

"Okay. Enough."His voice cut through me like a blade.

I shut up instantly. The rest of my sentence lodged itself in my throat. I swallowed hard, nodded. My fingers clenched into fists on my lap, knuckles white, like I could squeeze the guilt out through pressure.

"...Do you want me to leave?" I asked, barely above a whisper.

He hesitated. His jaw tensed, his eyes flickered to the side, to the floor, to the air between us.

"I don't know," he finally said.

And that hurt more than any no.

I didn't dare move, didn't even breathe too loudly. I just sat there, watching him.

And then I saw it—his eyes, beginning to water again. His lips pressed together like he was holding back a scream, or a sob, or both. His shoulders shook just slightly.

Fuck.

I stood up before I even knew I was moving, and wrapped my arms around him. He didn't resist. His body melted into mine like it always had, like some part of him still needed this, still needed me.

"Please don't cry again," I whispered against his hair. "Please. What am I doing wrong now? How am I hurting you? Just tell me, Ji. I'll stop. I want to stop making you cry. I swear to God, I want to."

He let out a broken breath that nearly split me in half. And then he said it.

"Stop lying."His voice cracked."Stop making me feel like you love me... when you don't."

I froze.

My arms were still around him, but suddenly they felt useless. My mouth opened, but no sound came out. My heart stopped, then dropped, then twisted into something jagged and cold.

"...You think I don't?" I finally asked, so quietly it barely felt like a question.

He didn't answer. Just cried harder.

And I realized—he really didn't believe me.

"Stop. Stop... I don't want to—"His voice broke mid-sentence, cracking under the weight of everything he was holding in.

He cried.

And it shattered me.

I cupped his face with trembling hands, my thumbs brushing the tears from his cheeks as mine started to fall too. I couldn't help it. I'd held it all in for too long. The guilt. The fear. The love.

"Ji," I whispered, barely able to get the words out through my own sobs. "You really think I don't love you? Answer me."

He looked away, shaking his head like he couldn't believe I was asking that. Like the very question hurt.

"How could you?" he said, voice raw and breaking. "You're everything. And I'm just me. I'm just Ji Yong. I'm just—"

But I didn't let him finish. I couldn't.

I leaned in and kissed him.

Not because I had the right. Not because I thought it would fix anything.

But because I had to.

Because it was the only way I knew how to tell him the truth. Because every word had failed us, and this—this was the only thing that ever made sense.

His lips trembled under mine, and for a second I thought he'd pull away.

But he didn't.

He kissed me back.

Soft. Desperate. Like he needed it as badly as I did.

The kiss tasted salty.

Tears—his and mine—mixed between our lips, but neither of us cared.

We just... held on. Like we could keep each other from falling apart if we stayed like that long enough.

Ji Yong clutched my shirt, fingers curling in tight like he was afraid I'd disappear again.

I held his face like it was something sacred, like it would shatter if I let go.

The kiss deepened, slow and desperate. A thousand apologies. A thousand I-missed-yous. A thousand I-still-love-yous we were too afraid to say aloud.

When we finally pulled apart, breathing hard and too full of everything, we just... stared.

No one said anything. Not for a moment. Not until he broke the silence, voice small and trembling.

"What... are you doing?"

I swallowed, heart thudding so loud I thought he'd hear it.

"I had to show you I wasn't lying."

He looked at me like he didn't know whether to scream or cry.

Maybe both.

Maybe I deserved both.

"I don't understand," he whispered, breath shaky. "You... rejected me."

I blinked. "What?"

"That night..." His eyes glossed over again. "I kissed you, and you left."

I let out a short, bitter laugh, shaking my head. "Really? Out of all nights, you had to remember that one?"

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

I exhaled hard, running a hand through my hair.

"God, Ji..." I looked at him—really looked at him. "That's why I decided to stop. Because it was always the same. After every party, after every drink—you'd cling to me, kiss me, say things I'd been dying to hear. And I always fell for it."

He looked like he was going to interrupt, but I didn't let him.

"I took you home. We made out. We... almost did more. And then the next day, you didn't remember a single fucking thing."

My voice cracked on the last word.

I looked away, because I couldn't bear to see the guilt on his face—or worse, that same confusion. The fear that maybe he still didn't remember.

"That night," I continued, quieter now, "you kissed me like it meant something. Like I meant something. And then you passed out in your bed, and the next morning you asked why you I was there like I was a stranger. I couldn't keep doing that. I couldn't keep pretending it didn't kill me every time."

Silence again. Heavy. Awkward. Painful.

Then Ji Yong's voice came, small, almost childlike.

"I... I thought you just didn't want me."

I looked at him again, heart breaking all over. "How could I not want you, Ji?"

He didn't say anything for a long moment.

He just stared at me like he didn't understand the language I was speaking. Like I'd flipped his whole world upside down and he didn't know where to place the pieces.

"I..." he started, then stopped. He looked down, his fingers trembling slightly. "I always thought... I wasn't enough for you."

My breath caught.

He laughed—dry, empty. "You were always so good at everything. So calm, so... perfect. I thought you pitied me. That you just cleaned up my messes because it's what you do."

I couldn't take it anymore.

I cupped his face with both hands, forcing him to look at me. His eyes were glassy, lips parted, confused and vulnerable in a way I'd only seen once or twice in our whole lives.

"Ji Yong," I said, my voice breaking. "Everything I did... I did for you."

He shook his head, but I didn't let him pull away. My thumbs brushed over his cheeks, and I leaned closer.

"I wasn't calm. I wasn't perfect. I was terrified—terrified—that you'd wake up one day and realize I wasn't worth it. So I tried to be everything you needed. Quiet when you were loud. Steady when you spun out. But I never pitied you. I fucking love you."

His eyes widened, mouth falling open slightly.

I kissed him again.

Soft. Deep. Nothing rushed, nothing to prove—just the truth poured into the way our lips moved. His hands grabbed at my shirt again, unsure, like he needed to anchor himself or he'd disappear.

When I pulled back, I pressed our foreheads together.

"I thought I wasn't enough for you," I whispered. "All this time, Ji... we've both been idiots."

He let out a shaky breath that almost sounded like a sob, then wrapped his arms around me tight. So tight it hurt, but I didn't care. I buried my face in his shoulder.

"I remembered that night every single day," he whispered, voice trembling. "I just... I thought you regretted it. I didn't want to make it worse."

I laughed softly against his skin. "You were never the mistake, Ji. Not once."

This is the longest xhapter I have written BY FAR. The camping is already affecting me haha

Just a little warning Idk about Seo-hee, i dont know if she was punished like Seubghyun or not, and wifi barely works here, so forgive me for nog looking it up. I needed someone and I remmember sge was involved in the scandal.

Also, get ready for next chaoters, very long too and finally seeing the light thru the tunel.

Dont forget to vote and leave a comment !!