TAEHYUNG'S POV

It was warm. Too warm for a guy who'd passed out drenched to the bone on someone else's doorstep. Not like the heat of fever, but the kind that made you want to stay buried in it forever.

Drenched in the sweat of sleep, sticky behind the neck, the kind that leaves you unsure if you're waking from a nightmare or still trapped in it.

I couldn't tell where I was yet. Couldn't even tell if I was still dreaming.

But then—
The sound.

Wheezing.

Not mine.

Sharp. Raspy. Hollow. Like lungs were folding inward and trying to claw their way out. My breath hitched, heart skipping sideways.

That sound—
I knew that sound.

No.

My mind reeled, flashing to that night again.

Her lips were turning blue—her body weightless in my arms, soaked, limp. That choked, gasping sound—wet, broken, desperate.

I knew it wasn't real this time.

Except it felt real.

Too real.

Because the wheezing wasn't fading with the dream.

It was getting louder.

Sharp.

Present.

I jolted awake, nearly falling off the couch, heart racing, eyes wild—until they landed on her.

There. Curled up by the foot of the couch like some frail, broken thing. 

YN.

And she was wheezing.

Not dreaming. Not a memory. Real.

Her arms wrapped tight around her middle, her chest visibly rising and falling in quick, uneven spasms. Her brows were scrunched like she was still stuck in sleep—fighting some invisible demon. Her hand slapped weakly at her chest, trying to rouse herself. Her lips were pale. Her knuckles whiter.

And for one terrifying second, she looked just like she had that night when he held her drenched and limp in my arms— almost dying.

"No, no, no - YN," I choked out, voice cracking as I dropped to my knees beside her, instantly shrugging the blanket off myself to wrap around her trembling form. My hands were shaking as they found her face, her shoulder.

"YN, hey—wake up, you're okay—hey, " My voice was a whisper and a shout all at once, desperation cracking down my spine. I gently shook her, not too hard, just enough to urge her back to consciousness. "It's me—it's okay—you're safe; please..."

And then, her eyes opened.

Barely. Slowly. But they did.

And for a moment, everything stopped.

Because those eyes—glassy and dark, unfocused but so unbearably her—locked with mine. Our gazes tangled in some cruel, invisible string, and I forgot how to breathe.

Her lips parted, trying to catch breath. Her throat moved in a dry swallow. She looked disoriented, startled—and then, inexplicably, afraid.

And yet... I was the one shaking.

Her eyes looked at me like I was both a ghost and a sin.
And I knew. She remembered last night.

Her eyes didn't hate me.

They were... lost. Soft. Hurting.

God, she was hurting. And I had done that to her.

I could see myself in her eyes, and I hated what I saw. My stupid, useless face. The reason she was even hurting like this to begin with.

I remembered her voice from last night.

The shriek when she saw me. The panic. The way she practically lunged to hold me up. Her hands on my cheeks, towels shaking in her grip. How she screamed at me like I'd just jumped off a building in front of her. Like my pain hurt her more than it ever should've.

She cared.

God, she cared.

Even after everything. Even after I broke her. After I humiliated her in front of the world. After I'd sat on her porch like a damn stray dog for six straight nights, because I didn't know what else to do except exist near her, silently begging for some kind of forgiveness I didn't deserve.

And yet, she still pulled me out of the rain.

She still wrapped me in warmth.

She still held me up when I couldn't even stand.

And now she was here, hurting, right in front of me, because of me.

Because of my stubborn, selfish, goddamn heart.

My throat closed. My grip around her softened.

She was awake now, barely. Breathing a little easier, though her chest still heaved with each inhale. Her lips trembled like she wanted to say something, but no words came out.

Neither did mine.

Because what the hell do you say to the girl you broke... while she's curled up, wheezing at your feet, after staying up all night just to keep you from dying on her couch?

What do you say when her tears still shine in the corner of your memory?

When you know you'll never be able to look her in the eye again without remembering how much she still cares... despite how much she hates you?

That was enough to kill me.

I blinked slowly, breath shaking as I gently rubbed her arm, whispering her name again. She didn't push me away. She didn't kick me. She didn't curse. Her lashes fluttered faintly as if the world was too heavy to keep her eyes open.

It was the smallest crack. The tiniest glimpse of what she was hiding behind all her glares and biting sarcasm.

It was also enough.

If this was the first and last time she let me this close to her, even for a second, it would be enough.

And when she finally kicked me out—because I knew she would, and she should—I'd go.

I'd let her go.

Because she deserved peace more than I deserved her forgiveness.

And for once, I could finally do something right.

Her body was frighteningly light in my arms—like if I held her too tightly, she'd vanish altogether. I tucked her into the couch with the gentleness I didn't know I had left, wrapping the blanket tight around her frame like it could ward off everything she's been through. Everything I put her through.

I crouched beside her for a second longer than necessary. Just... looking. Letting it settle. My fingers curled into fists, brushing a strand of silky hair away from her cheek. My voice came out as a hoarse whisper, not even sure why I said it. Maybe I just needed to hear myself admit it.

"I'm a fucking idiot. I didn't know when to quit. I kept barging in, thinking I was proving something... but I was just proving how messed up I was."

I gave her hand a soft squeeze. Just one last time. One last moment of selfishness before I disappeared for good.

"You didn't deserve any of this," I added quietly, words nearly crumbling as they left my throat. "I'm just a stubborn idiot who doesn't know when to quit."

"I'm sorry, Y/N," I murmured. "I get it now."

I stood up, heart heavier than the drenched backpack I picked up. Turned my back on the warmth I didn't deserve.

And then—
"Wait."

I froze. The voice was hoarse, dry, edged with something brittle. But unmistakably hers.

My heart stuttered in my chest like it forgot how to function. Slowly, I turned back, eyes catching on the figure still half-curled on the couch, eyes now open—dull but sharp at the same time.

"I forgive you," she said, voice rough like gravel but clear enough to shatter me from the inside out.

"You... what?" I blinked, almost stumbling forward.

"Don't make me repeat it, dumbass," she coughed slightly, narrowing her eyes. "God knows what kind of guilt monologue you've been reciting over me just now, but yes. I forgive you."

I stared at her like she'd grown a second head. "You—you mean it?"

She exhaled sharply, like I was testing her patience. "Does it sound like I'm joking? Because trust me, I don't hand out forgiveness like candy."

I didn't know what to say. A thousand apologies lodged in my throat. I barely managed one. I nearly dropped to my knees. "I'm sorry," I breathed out, "for every goddamn thing. For being a jerk. For barging into your life. For making you—"

"Well, at least you're self-aware," she said dryly, folding her arms. "Your persistence was borderline harassment, FYI. You made my life a living hell these past few weeks."

I smiled faintly. She could be forgiving and still roast me alive in the same breath. God, I missed her.

"But—" she looked away for a second, jaw tightening—"I get it. I get why you were doing it. And maybe some part of me knew you wouldn't stop until you said what you needed to say."

Silence pressed between us. Not uncomfortable, just—dense.

She finally looked back at me, voice dropping lower. "So now that you've gotten it off your chest, I'd appreciate it if our paths don't cross again, Kim Taehyung," she said quietly. "Not at school. Not in class. Definitely not at my doorstep. We go back to what we were before. Strangers who happened to share space. Got it?"

Something inside me cracked. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just a quiet, clean break.

Strangers. Again.

"I-I understand," I said, barely able to get it out. "If that's what you want, I'll stay away. I promise."

She still wasn't looking at me directly. Her fingers fiddled with the edge of the blanket. Like she didn't want to see me agree. Like she was afraid if she saw my face, she'd change her mind.

And I couldn't let her. Not after everything.

I slung my bag over my shoulder and took a step back. "Thank you," I said softly.

Her head snapped up. "Thank you for what, duh?"

I smiled. Not the confident, cocky kind people knew me for. Just the tired kind. The kind that meant more than I could say.

"For forgiving a douchebag like me," I said. "For putting up with me when you didn't have to. For—just... everything."

Then I turned and left, slowly, quietly.

Because now I knew- She didn't hate me.

But she needed distance more than she needed my guilt.

I could live with that.

Even if something in my chest clawed and burned the whole way home.

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WORD COUNT: 1579 Words
PUBLISHED ON: Sep 27, 2024

LATEST EDITED VERSION as on 31st July, 2025

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A/N: The next published chapters have been currently unpublished for editing purposes. Stay tuned—and hit the vote button if you loved this chap!