thirty two

"i love the way you make me feel." -the way, ariana grande ft. mac miller.

——

the doorbell rang again.

misun sighed as she set down her mug of coffee, brushing her hair out of her face before opening the door.

a small box sat on the doorstep this time—no flowers, no notes stuck on the side, just a neatly wrapped brown package tied with a thin white ribbon.

she crouched down, picking it up carefully. the tag had his handwriting on it again, small and neat.

"for your morning coffee — jihoon."

she blinked, confused at first. when she opened it, she found a handmade ceramic mug inside—soft ivory glaze with little painted stars scattered around it, uneven but charming, like someone had tried their best to get it right even if it wasn't perfect.

and beneath it, a small packet of her favorite coffee beans.

her chest tightened. he remembered.

she set it down on the table, staring at it for a long moment, before finally giving in to the thought that had been pressing at the back of her mind for days. she reached for her phone and opened their chat.

misun: you really didn't have to send me this many things

jihoon: you said you liked surprises

misun: that was years ago

jihoon: some things don't change

she stared at the screen, her lips twitching.

misun: i mean it thoughmisun: thank youmisun: for the flowers, and... everything else

there was a pause.

jihoon: i wanted to say sorry in more ways than one

misun: i think you've said it enough

jihoon: not even close

she smiled, shaking her head.

misun: the mug is cute

jihoon: i painted the stars myself

misun: that explains the chaos of it

jihoon: wow okay

misun: hahah sorry

jihoon: you still laugh at your own jokes?

misun: always

jihoon: some things really don't change

her fingers hovered over the keyboard, a warmth spreading through her chest before she typed again.

jihoon: i saw the picture the other day. the one from school.

misun: yeah?

jihoon: you looked so happy in it.

misun: we both did. it was a good day.

jihoon: it was.

the conversation slowed after that—the kind of comfortable quiet that used to exist between them, the one that didn't need filling.

misun leaned back against the couch, still holding her phone, a soft smile pulling at her lips.

some things really didn't change.

but maybe... some could finally heal.