eighteen

"it used to be easy." -caramel, 5 seconds of summer.

——

the sunlight crept through the blinds, slipping across jihoon's face as he blinked awake. for a moment, he lay still—listening to the quiet hum of the morning, the faint city sounds bleeding in through the window.

it was their day off. no filming. no schedules. no noise. just him, his thoughts, and the leftover warmth from last night's messages.

he turned his head toward his phone on the nightstand. the screen was dark, but he still unlocked it—opening their chat out of habit.

he smiled without meaning to. a small, quiet smile that reached his eyes. he'd slept easier than he had in years.

after a few minutes, he got up, dragging himself to the bathroom. the cold water woke him up instantly, and the shower steam fogged up the mirror. for once, he didn't rush. he stood under the stream longer than usual, letting the heat soak into his skin, trying to clear his mind.

but she was still there. her voice, her laugh, her text—all lingering.

when he stepped out, towel draped around his neck, he opened his closet to grab a hoodie. he reached for his usual black one—the same old, worn-out hoodie he'd had since their trainee days.

but as he pulled it out, something tumbled down from the corner of the shelf.

a small, brown box.

he froze.

he knew exactly what it was.

he crouched down, staring at it for a moment before he slowly lifted the lid.

inside were pieces of another life—photos, notes, movie tickets, candy wrappers. little things that once meant everything.

on top sat a folded letter. her handwriting instantly recognizable.

he didn't open it. he couldn't.

instead, he reached deeper and found a small glass jar, covered in dust. it was filled with thin wooden sticks—each one with something written in her handwriting. he picked one out.

"go to jeju together."

another.

"watch fireworks on new year's eve."

and another.

"make breakfast together. (you cook, i clean)"

he chuckled softly, thumb tracing the ink that had faded slightly over the years. the ache in his chest returned, sharp and bittersweet.

without thinking, he took out his phone and snapped a photo of the jar.

his fingers hovered over the screen. he didn't even think twice before typing:

jihoon: remember this?

as soon as he pressed send, his heart dropped.

"oh no..." he muttered under his breath, gripping his phone. "what did i just do?"

he groaned, throwing himself onto the bed. the regret hit almost instantly. she'd probably think he was weird. or trying too hard. or—

he sat up quickly and scrolled through his contacts.

he clicked on dokyeom's name. it rang twice before he picked up.

"wooza!!"

"come over," jihoon said quickly. "i did something stupid."

dokyeom groaned. "what did you do this time?"

"just come, i'll explain when you're here."

not long after, dokyeom showed up with wonwoo and mingyu, still half-asleep and in sweats.

"okay," dokyeom said as soon as they walked in, "spill it."

jihoon rubbed the back of his neck, sighing. "i texted her."

wonwoo raised a brow. "again? okay and?"

"no—like really texted her. i sent her something from... the past."

mingyu leaned over the coffee table, peering at his phone. "what did you send?"

jihoon reluctantly showed them the photo.

"bro..." mingyu whispered. "that's— that's the jar?"

dokyeom blinked. "the jar? that jar? you still have it?"

"apparently," jihoon muttered.

wonwoo smirked slightly. "and what did she say?"

"she hasn't replied yet," jihoon said, slumping back against the couch. "she saw it, though."

dokyeom threw his arms up dramatically. "and you're surprised? dude, you basically threw her into a time machine."

mingyu laughed. "it's kind of sweet though. if i were her, i'd cry."

"that's what i'm afraid of," jihoon mumbled. "i don't want her to cry. i just—" he paused, struggling to find the words. "i wanted her to remember that we were happy once."

the room went quiet for a moment.

wonwoo leaned back, arms crossed. "and do you remember that too?"

"every day," jihoon said quietly. "and that's the problem."

dokyeom softened. "look, maybe it wasn't stupid. maybe it's good she knows you still care. just... don't rush anything, okay?"

jihoon nodded, staring at his phone. the chat was still open—that photo of the jar sitting there, unread now for nearly ten minutes.

he sighed. "yeah. i'll try."

but deep down, he knew he didn't want to forget.

not anymore.