Chapter Text
With the tour almost over, after months of shows, events, and endless rehearsals, the only thing Sa Eon wanted was to go back home and enjoy some of his free time with his girlfriend. Even though there were still two shows left in America, he was already craving the break he’d get once it was all done. It had been the biggest tour of his career, but he couldn’t deny how physically and emotionally drained he was.
It was just too much at once, and all the constant travel and sleep deprivation from the jet lag were driving him crazy. His body was a mess, but he was ignoring all the signals that he needed a good night's sleep, because he had to talk to Hee Joo. Even if it was just a few minutes, he needed to hear her voice.
The past few weeks had been rough for them. He felt like they were growing more and more distant because he barely had time to talk to her. And when they did manage to talk, she felt... different. There was a certain tension in her voice, like she was keeping things in. Like she wanted to tell him something but couldn’t bring herself to do it. He wasn’t sure, but he had a feeling she might be frustrated with the distance and just didn’t want to worry him.
Sa Eon sighed and dropped down on the hotel room couch. He and his team were staying at a luxury hotel—the kind with the comfiest beds money could buy—but still, he hadn’t been able to sleep more than a few hours since they got there. That’s why he grabbed his phone and called his girlfriend. It wasn’t too late at night in Seoul.
She picked up on the third ring.
“Hey, babe,” he greeted, shifting on the couch. “Were you about to go to sleep?”
“No.”
Sa Eon smiled at the sound of her voice, closing his eyes for a second. “I’m sorry I didn’t call yesterday. It was insane.”
“It’s okay.”
There it was again—that hesitation in her voice that made his stomach twist. Lately, she’d just let him talk about the shows and his routine. And when he tried asking about her day or if something had happened, she gave short, vague answers and quickly changed the subject back to him. He didn’t know what else to do.
“Hee Joo, babe,” he started gently. “I know these past few weeks have been tough on us, but the tour’s almost over. I’ll be home soon. Maybe we can go to Jeju Island, what do you think? I could book something nice.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Sa Eon,” she replied, her voice a little cold. His heart sank. She called him by his name—not “babe” or “honey,” just his name. She almost never did that.
“Do you wanna come to my place then?” he offered, his voice sounding just as anxious as he felt. “Or I can go to your apartment if that’s better. We could—”
“I don’t think we should see each other,” she cut him off, letting the silence stretch between them. Sa Eon sat up on the couch, switching the phone to his other hand.
“Babe… I don’t get what you’re saying,” he said with a nervous laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Did something happen? Did I do something that hurt you?”
“No…” she said, exasperated. Her voice wavered for a second, trembling, but then she spoke more firmly. “Sa Eon, I want to break up.”
Sa Eon suddenly felt numb. It was like he was out of his body, out of his mind—he couldn’t move, couldn’t think straight. A million thoughts were racing through his head, but he couldn’t hold on to a single one. They were spinning like a tornado.
“What?” he managed to say, his own voice sounding strange to his ears, dragged out and broken.
“You heard what I said.”
“But there’s no way I heard you right,” he said, his voice shaking with the tears threatening to fall. “Because that doesn’t make any sense.”
“It doesn’t have to make sense to you. I’ve already made up my mind.”
The way she was talking hurt even more than what she was actually saying. Even during the few times they fought, Hee Joo had never been this cold with him. It felt like they were strangers now, not a couple who had been together for three years.
“Why are you doing this to me? Just tell me what I did wrong and I’ll fix it. I’ll be better for you,” he cried, practically yelling in desperation. If he could, he’d probably be on his knees in front of her.
“You don’t have to do anything,” Hee Joo said, taking a deep breath. “I just want to end things and be done with it.”
Sa Eon squeezed his eyes shut and lowered the phone. He still had two shows that weekend, so he couldn’t just hop on a plane back to Korea. The hotel room—big enough to be an apartment—suddenly felt tiny and empty, like the walls were closing in on him.
“You’re really doing this over the phone?” he whispered, bringing the phone back to his ear. “Your feelings for me are so little that you couldn’t even wait to say this to my face?”
He silently begged for her to say it was a joke, or that he’d wake up from some horrible nightmare. Sa Eon wanted to wake up beside her, wrap her in his arms, and hear her say everything was okay. He didn’t want to believe it—he couldn’t—because how was he supposed to live without her? Hong Hee Joo was the air he breathed, and every beat of his heart had always been for her.
Hee Joo let out a quiet sigh on the other end of the line.
“I just don’t think that’s necessary, Sa Eon,” she said softly. “I want to end this peacefully. We don’t need to see each other to do that.”
“Is this because of the tour? I can ask for more time off.”
“It’s not about that.”
“Then what is it? Why, Hee Joo?”
“I fell in love with someone else.”
Everything went quiet. The only sound he could hear was the faint echo of footsteps in the hallway and Hee Joo’s unsteady breathing.
“I’m in love with someone else and I…” she began, while he shut his eyes and braced himself. “I don’t love you anymore.”
Sa Eon was an artist. He’d sung dozens of songs about heartbreak, but he’d never truly understood the feeling before. She was the first person he’d ever really loved, and since the moment he met her, all his days had been filled with love for her — not sadness, not despair. But now, he got it. Now he understood exactly what those songs meant, he could practically hear his heart shattering. And maybe the broken pieces had pierced through his chest, because it was aching so bad and it felt like all the air had been sucked out of his lungs.
The pain Sa Eon was feeling started boiling in his blood, slowly turning into anger. In love with someone else? How could she say that after everything they’d been through together? She had told him she loved him more times than he could count, and he had dreamed of growing old by her side. What did she think she was doing, throwing all of that away?
“You don’t love me anymore? Anymore?" he laughed bitterly, but his voice was still thick with tears. “If you’d ever really loved me, you wouldn’t have fallen for someone else so easily.”
She went quiet for a few seconds, and he looked at his phone to check if she was still on the line. She was, and soon she spoke again.
“I don’t want to fight with you. Please don’t make this harder.”
“Who is it? Who’s this guy that stole your heart so fast?” he shot back, desperate to understand what the hell was happening. “He must be incredible, right? Because just a few days ago you said you loved me and I was the love of your life—or was that all a lie?”
“It’s someone you don’t know,” she replied, ignoring his other question. “You don’t need to know who he is. Just that I’m in love.”
“And how did that even happen?”
“It just did. I knew,” she burst out, clearly crying now. “I… just know it’s right.”
“And with me, it’s not?” Sa Eon asked, the words barely making it past his throat. “What does he have that I don’t?”
He put a hand over his face and cried harder while he waited for her answer. It hurt so bad he honestly thought it might be better if he just died.
“He can give me a normal life,” she said simply, after what felt like seconds or maybe hours. “I want to be happy living a normal life, instead of spending it being someone’s secret.”
Sa Eon wasn’t ready for that last hit. They had been together for three years, but their relationship was never allowed to be public because of how badly his fans had reacted before. His contract didn’t allow him to have a public relationship. He hated it too, but he thought it was the best way to protect Hee Joo from all the hate.
He never wanted her to be his secret. He just didn’t want her to be hurt. Sa Eon always thought she understood that.
“You’re being unfair and cruel,” he whispered, feeling another wave of tears run down his cheeks. “You know I’d tell the whole world how much I love you if I could.”
“If you could,” she echoed quietly. “If. But you can’t. So… go live your life, focus on your career… and forget about me.”
He swallowed hard before answering, trying to clear the lump in his throat. But there was nothing he could do to get rid of the weight and pain in his chest.
“How long have you been wanting to tell me this? How long has it been?” he asked, even though he was terrified of the answer.
“It’s been a few weeks.”
Sa Eon wanted to ask more. He wanted to know everything about the guy who had stolen the woman he loved. But he knew she wouldn’t answer—and he wasn’t strong enough to hear it anyway. So he just stayed silent for a moment, trying to pull himself together.
“Fine, Hong Hee Joo,” he said at last, her full name sounding foreign on his tongue after so long without using it. “I’ll make sure to forget you, so I don’t get in the way of your normal, happy life.”
That was all he said before hanging up. It was a lie—the biggest lie he’d ever told. Baek Sa Eon could forget his own name, but he would never forget her. He wished he’d never met her, because maybe then he wouldn’t remember. He wished she were just a stranger passing by on the street or in an airport—someone he’d never seen, never touched. That way, he wouldn’t remember her smell, her smile, or what it felt like to hold her in his arms.
He didn’t even know how to deal with everything he was feeling. Pain, rage, betrayal. Sa Eon wanted to hate her, but all he could do was hate how much he still loved her and how completely incapable he was of living without her. He laid down on the bed and shut his eyes, letting the tears fall in the dark. He didn’t sleep.
When the morning sun poured into the room, he got up and looked in the mirror. His hair was a mess, his eyes still puffy and red, with dark circles underneath. People kept asking him if something had happened, and he’d just say he hadn’t been sleeping well. But every time he was alone, every time he caught himself thinking about Hee Joo or scrolling through her photos on his phone, he’d cry all over again.
During the last shows of the tour, Sa Eon sang and smiled, pretending like nothing had happened. He danced and waved to the crowd like his chest wasn’t aching and his mind wasn’t drifting oceans away.
He thought he’d faked it well, but people noticed. They started commenting online that he seemed different on stage. So his agency posted a bunch of smiley photos and a heartfelt caption—because no matter how much he was suffering, the most important thing was always to look happy and keep quiet. The perfect idol for his fans. The perfect employee for his company.
But in the silence and darkness of his apartment, all his fake smiles turned back into tears.