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Sunoo isn’t going to lie.
It hurt.
God, it fucking hurt.
The kind of hurt that sits in your chest like a cold stone. Heavy. Unmoving. Suffocating. It was the kind of pain that doesn’t make a sound—but echoes in silence. It buzzes in your bones and makes it impossible to sleep at night.
Was he really that easy to forget?
Was he really that disposable?
That easy to leave behind like he was never something precious?
He didn’t want the answer.
He already knew it. Somewhere deep down, buried beneath all the hope and the what-ifs and the late-night whispers, he knew .
But knowing didn’t make it hurt any less.
It wasn’t Ni-ki’s fault. It never really was.
Sunoo had always known this would happen—had prepared himself for the expiration date, marked somewhere invisible in their timeline.
Teenagers don’t last.
That’s what adults say, don’t they?
That first love is just a phase.
That kids fall in and out of love like waves in the tide.
But how could he call it a phase when it felt so real ?
How could it be just a teenage thing when he had built his whole world around him?
“I thought we’d grow up together" Sunoo whispered into the dark, curled up on the bed they used to share.
The silence didn’t answer him. It only sat there, too still.
The painful part is—they are growing up.
They are still next to each other.
But not together .
There’s a difference.
They’re walking side by side but not hand in hand. Laughing in the same room but not at the same heartbeat. Breathing the same air, but it no longer feels like living.
How do you explain that to someone?
How do you explain being so close yet feeling like you’re galaxies apart?
They were dating. Were —past tense.
Two years. Two full, bright, aching years of being in love. Of shared sweaters and inside jokes and forehead kisses. Of stolen glances across practice rooms. Of lazy afternoons wrapped in each other’s warmth, tangled limbs and sleepy giggles, faces pressed together under blankets, whispering secrets they wouldn’t tell anyone else.
They never went further than soft kisses and a little innocent fooling around, but it didn’t matter. It wasn’t about that. It was about the feeling —the safety. The calm.
Being in each other’s arms felt like being home. Like they could finally exhale.
“you feel safe with me?” Sunoo had once asked, their legs tangled beneath the covers.
Ni-ki didn’t answer right away. He just nodded against Sunoo’s chest, whispering, “Always.”
But now Sunoo isn’t sure.
Because it didn’t last.
And maybe it wasn’t supposed to.
Maybe some people are meant to pass through you like a season. Warm and alive, but gone before you’re ready.
Sunoo wanted to be brave. He was brave, in his own quiet way. He kept loving even when it started hurting. He kept giving even when he wasn’t sure he’d get anything back. But even the strongest hearts wear out eventually.
He was tired.
Tired of giving love that never echoed back.
Tired of wondering if he was too much.
Too clingy. Too emotional. Too visible .
Tired of being afraid of the silence on the other end of a text. Of the unread messages. Of the way Ni-ki started pulling away, bit by bit, like a tide retreating from the shore.
Was it because Ni-ki was scared?
Sunoo thinks so.
Hell, he was scared too.
But at least he wasn’t afraid to show it. To say I love you out loud.
Ni-ki never said it enough. Maybe he thought Sunoo already knew. Maybe he thought his quiet glances and soft touches were enough.
But sometimes, you need to hear it.
You need someone to say it, to claim it.
To look you in the eyes and say, “Yes. I love you. I still choose you"
Sunoo stopped hearing it.
He stopped feeling chosen.
And slowly, painfully, he stopped trying.
Because how do you keep fighting for someone who doesn’t reach back?
“You’ve been quiet lately" he had said one night, curled up on the couch beside him.
Ni-ki just shrugged. “Just tired"
“Tired of me?"
“No" he said too quickly. “No, of course not"
But it felt like a lie. A soft one. The kind you say to avoid hurting someone, even when the truth is already killing them.
Sunoo noticed the way Ni-ki laughed more easily around Jake.
He noticed how he reached for Jake’s all the time, how he leaned on his shoulder, how their inside jokes felt too private.
And it tore Sunoo apart.
Because he loved Jake. Jake was his friend. One of the people he trusted most.
But it’s hard, isn’t it? It’s hard to watch the person you love look at someone else with the softness they used to give you.
It’s hard to sit next to them and feel like a stranger.
It’s hard when you’re not even allowed to be seen .
Their relationship was a secret. Always had been. Hidden behind closed doors, behind careful glances and whispered promises.
“I just don’t think people need to know" Ni-ki had said once.
Sunoo had agreed. At the time, it felt like protecting something sacred. Something precious.
But now, it just felt like hiding something shameful .
Was he a secret Ni-ki didn’t want to claim?
Was he something to be kept in the dark?
And now, Sunoo lies awake in a room that still smells a little like Ni-ki. Like his shampoo and echos of his quiet laughter and memories that don’t know they’re ghosts yet.
He misses him.
God, he misses him like missing is a wound.
He misses the warmth of his hand. The way Ni-ki would bury his face in Sunoo’s neck when he was tired. The sound of his voice saying, “I’m here"
But he’s not here anymore.
Not really.
And Sunoo knows this.
He knows it the way you know when someone stops looking at you like you’re theirs. He knows it in the pauses, in the distance, in the ache of trying to be enough.
They still see each other. Every day. Practice, schedules, interviews.
But it’s different.
There’s no more reaching across the gap.
Just polite smiles.
Just cold nods.
Just strangers wearing old love like a faded sweatshirt.
And Sunoo thinks the saddest part isn’t that it is going to end.
It’s that was that they are still dating!
But somehow it feels like they no longer are.
And maybe that’s the tragedy of it.
And the only thing left is the echo of a name you don’t say out loud anymore.
“Riki" he whispers in the dark, just once.
Just to see if it still hurts.
It does.
Of course it does.
⸻
He didn’t want to be called obsessive.
He never asked to be wrapped around every part of Ni-ki’s life. He didn’t need to know where he was every second, or what time he ate, or who he was talking to.
He just… wanted to be told the things that mattered.
Just the important things. Just the parts that lovers share. Just the pieces that say, “You’re still part of my world"
Was that too much?
Was it really so hard to tell Sunoo, “Hey, I got a brand deal"
To say, “I’m doing a solo dance for the next show"
Was it really that hard?
Because apparently, it wasn’t too hard to tell the others. Jungwon and Sunghoon knew. Heeseung and Jay knew. Jake always knew.
But not Sunoo.
Never Sunoo.
And he hated the way his name kept falling to the bottom of Ni-ki’s list. Not even by malice—no. That would’ve been easier to understand.
But by indifference.
By quiet forgetting.
By being too used to his presence that it stopped meaning anything.
Yes, Sunoo was jealous.
Yes, he hated himself for it.
But he was still there. Every show. Every rehearsal. Every injury, every headache, every late night.
He was always there, cheering louder than anyone, clapping with his whole heart, waiting in the wings even when he wasn’t needed.
And still—somewhere along the way—he became a ghost in Ni-ki’s world.
Sometimes, Sunoo regrets being so present .
Because presence became a burden. Something unwanted. Something Ni-ki seemed to roll his eyes at more than he reached for.
There was a time, not too long ago, when they would go to the practice room together. Not for work. Just to be near. Just to dance side by side. Just to exist in the same rhythm.
But that stopped.
Suddenly, Ni-ki stopped inviting him. He’d leave without saying a word, disappear into the studio alone or with another member, or with people Sunoo didn’t even know.
He started making friends outside their little circle.
Sunoo wasn’t angry about the new friends.
He just wanted to know why Ni-ki stopped choosing him .
Was it really that controlling to ask for a text? A “hey, I’m heading out”? A “do you wanna come with me?”
He didn’t need a leash.
He just needed a hand.
Even if it was just for a moment.
But instead, Ni-ki started saying things like:
“I’m tired"
“I can’t today"
“Maybe another time"
Every time Sunoo asked.
Every time he offered up his day like a gift, like please let me be near you , it was returned with a quiet rejection.
A pause.
A “no, not now"
But then, hours later, Ni-ki would be seen with someone else. Laughing. Walking. Smiling.
He always had time—for everyone but him.
And Sunoo tried.
God, he tried .
He tried to bring it up. Tried to talk about it gently. Like,
“Hey, I feel like you don’t really tell me things anymore, you didn't respond to my messages at all"
“I just forget, it’s not a big deal"
“Yeah… okay"
Every time, Ni-ki brushed it off. Like Sunoo was being dramatic. Overthinking. Emotional.
Like his pain was an inconvenience.
And after a while, Sunoo started to believe it. Started to gaslight himself.
Maybe I am being too much.
Maybe I’m imagining things.
Maybe I’m just insecure.
But no.
He wasn’t.
He knew it now.
He knew it because even after he tried so hard to dim himself down, to ask for less, to stop needing—he still felt hollow.
He still felt unwanted .
He still felt like something Ni-ki was tolerating .
And one night, it broke him.
He stared at the ceiling, lying on his bed alone, fingers clenched around his phone, rereading an old conversation. A photo he’d sent from his flight. A stupid, sweet selfie of him grinning in his hoodie.
He remembered how he waited for the reply.
How he wanted Ni-ki to say “Cute"
“I miss you"
“Wish I was with you"
But instead, he got:
“Enjoy your flight"
Like a stranger would say.
Like someone who didn’t want to say more.
Like someone already halfway gone.
“Is that when it started?” Sunoo whispered aloud.
The room didn’t answer.
“Was that the moment you stopped loving me?”
He blinked, trying to remember the last time Ni-ki had saved one of his photos. The last time he’d come to his room uninvited. The last time he said “I love you” without Sunoo saying it first.
“Was it when we took different flights?” he murmured, voice cracking.
“Was it when you stopped showing up? When you started growing away from me?”
There were so many little things.
Things he told himself not to notice.
Ni-ki no longer came to him at night. No more late-night knocks. No more crawling into his bed just because. No more sleepy smiles. No more of that.
Sunoo thought they could outgrow the world together. He thought they could navigate the mess of fame, of youth, of stress— together.
He really thought so.
He believed in them.
But maybe only one of them did.
“Why couldn’t we do it?” Sunoo asked the dark. “Why couldn’t we make it?”
His voice shook, a whisper splintered with everything he never got to say.
“I thought we were gonna be okay,” he continued. “I really did. Even when it got hard. Even when we stopped talking. I thought we’d fix it. We were supposed to fix it , Ni-ki"
A pause.
“But I guess I was wrong. I guess you just didn’t want to anymore"
And that was the cruelest part.
Because Sunoo knew.
He knew they could’ve made it—if they both kept trying.
But only he tried.
Ni-ki stopped.
And that’s when Sunoo realized.
They didn’t fall apart because they didn’t love each other.
They fell apart because Ni-ki didn’t want to fight for it anymore.
He let the silence grow. Let the distance deepen. Let Sunoo reach and reach and reach—until his arms were too tired.
“Just tell me when..." he whispered, wiping tears that wouldn’t stop.
“Just tell me when you fell out of love with me"
But Ni-ki was no longer here to answer.
And Sunoo was finally too tired to keep asking.
⸻
All Sunoo can remember now is the cold silence of that day.
The day he came back from a separate flight — alone — and tried to pretend it didn’t feel like the beginning of the end.
He’d landed in the same city, walked the same streets, returned to the same life. But it wasn’t the same anymore.
Ni-ki wasn’t waiting for him.
Not at the airport.
Not with a message.
Not even with a simple “Missed you"
Nothing.
But Sunoo still sent him a photo anyway. A blurry one from the window seat, sunlight pouring across his cheekbones like a halo, eyes smiling, trying to look cute. He’d even put a little caption.
“Guess who’s back 🫶🏻 ”
Nothing.
No reply.
So he sent another. Then another.
Still nothing.
Just silence. Like screaming into a cave that no longer echoed back.
He felt pathetic. Humiliated. A boy offering his heart over and over again to someone who didn’t want to hold it anymore.
And still—he tried.
Because that’s what you do when you’re in love with someone who’s already halfway out the door. You try. Like a fool. You try until there’s nothing left of you.
Maybe that’s when it hit him.
That this was the end.
Not the fight end. Not the let’s fix this end.
But the quiet end.
The one you can’t explain to anyone else, because nothing really happened — except everything did.
Because now they didn’t even share dorms. That one excuse that always brought them back to each other— we live together, we’ll see each other eventually —was gone.
And so was the bed they used to share.
They could have shared it still, if they wanted to. It wasn’t impossible. They could’ve switched arrangements, asked to be in the same unit, changed things to stay close.
But they didn’t.
Well—Sunoo would’ve.
But Ni-ki didn’t.
He said he tried.
But Sunoo knew better.
Ni-ki never really tried. Not like he did. Not like Sunoo always had.
And this time… Sunoo didn’t have the energy to chase.
So he stopped. Finally. Slowly. Painfully.
But not before doing the one thing he swore he didn’t want to do.
Have that conversation.
He’d texted Ni-ki just hours after landing. His hands were shaking the whole time.
Sunoo : We need to talk.
Ni-ki’s reply came quickly.
Ni-ki : Yeah. We do.
Two sentences. That was it. Just two pieces of acknowledgment that they were both standing on a crumbling ledge, and there was no rope between them anymore.
Sunoo barely slept that night. He couldn’t eat. His chest was a fist, his eyes hot and aching from holding back tears he swore he wouldn’t cry.
But he knew.
God, he knew he would.
Because he wasn’t heartless.
Because he hadn’t fallen out of love.
Because he still wanted to hold on, even when Ni-ki had let go months ago.
And when the time came — when Ni-ki stepped into his room, quiet, hands in his pockets, that unreadable expression on his face — Sunoo nearly backed out.
He wanted to run. Hide. Pretend everything was okay.
But he didn’t.
They sat side by side on the bed.
What's supposed to be their bed.
The bed they used to share when the world felt too loud. The one where they’d whispered secrets under the blankets. The one where they’d kissed for the first time. The one where they’d just… existed together, safely.
And now it felt like the space between them was miles wide.
Sunoo took a breath.
A deep, sharp inhale.
His voice came out smaller than he wanted.
“Do you… do you want us to break up?”
Silence.
Ni-ki blinked.
He didn’t say no.
Not immediately.
He didn’t grab Sunoo’s hand, didn’t shake his head, didn’t cry.
He just sat there, still, eyes on the floor.
Then finally—
“I don’t know"
Three words that said everything.
Sunoo stared at him.
“You do know.." he said softly. “You just don’t want to be the one to say it"
Ni-ki looked up. His face was blank.
No tears. No anger. No love.
Just that cold, distant look Sunoo had come to know too well.
“I… I don’t want to hurt you" Ni-ki whispered.
Too late.
“You’re already doing that" Sunoo said, voice cracking.
And then it broke.
The dam behind his ribs burst, and the tears fell. Quiet at first. Then harder. He turned his face away, hating the way his breath caught in his throat, hating how small and shattered he felt.
“I kept waiting for you to fight for this" he sobbed. “But you didn’t. You stopped trying. You stopped caring . And I kept loving you like an idiot"
Ni-ki didn’t say anything.
Didn’t touch him. Didn’t reach out.
That hurt more than anything.
Sunoo turned back, blinking through tears.
“When did you stop loving me?” he asked. “Was it months ago? Was it when you stopped answering my good mornings? When you started ignoring my messages, saying you needed space? Was that just a way to leave me slowly?”
“I didn’t mean—” Ni-ki started.
“—To hurt me?” Sunoo laughed bitterly. “But you did . Every time you acted like I was too much. Every time I begged for crumbs of attention while you gave everything to everyone else. Every time I tried to make you care and you just… didn’t"
Ni-ki looked at him then. Just looked.
And Sunoo could see it clearly.
There was no love in his eyes anymore.
No fire. No ache. Just resignation.
“I didn’t know how to talk to you" Ni-ki said finally.
"You know that my family is very homophobic, you know that my dad hit me for the first time because he thought I was gay.. my family didn't speak to me for months.. and when I finally debuted, they finally looked at me. Said that they were proud of me. Looked at me really for the first time in what felt like forever... I don't wanna disappoint them anymore"
Ni-ki continues “I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to hurt you... I'm sorry"
And that was it.
That was the truth they’d been dancing around for months.
Ni-ki didn’t fight because he didn’t care enough.
Sunoo kept holding on because he cared too much.
They weren’t equals anymore. They hadn’t been for a long time.
They had broken up.
The words had been said. The silence had followed. The tears were still fresh on Sunoo’s pillow, but the relationship was officially over.
Sunoo had said it.
“I think we should break up"
And then—after the silence, after Sunoo’s throat clenched tight and he couldn’t say anything anymore—
Ni-ki was the one talking now, something that felt like it should’ve softened the blow but only twisted the knife deeper.
“But… I still want us to be friends"
Friends.
That word. So clean. So simple. So small compared to everything they had been.
Sunoo didn’t know how to answer. He just nodded.
Because saying no felt cruel. And saying yes felt like a lie.
But he nodded.
And Ni-ki smiled at him, like that could fix things. Like that could make Sunoo forget the nights they spent tangled in each other’s arms, the whispered I love yous , the way Ni-ki used to press his forehead to his and say, “Let’s grow old together"
Now they were growing.
But separately.
The hollow sound of a door clicking shut behind Ni-ki was the only sound left.
Sunoo sat there, alone on the bed that used to be theirs, tears soaking his sleeves, realizing—
That was the last time Ni-ki would ever sit next to him like that.
That was the last time they’d ever be almost something.
Still, they tried.
They really tried to be friends.
They hung out with the other members. Laughed in the same circles. Sat at the same tables.
Ni-ki acted like nothing had changed. He still texted him. Still invited him to play games in the dorm. Still made little jokes at his expense, like they were back to being just close.
But Sunoo was pretending.
And he was getting good at it.
That first week, he was a mess inside, but he looked perfect on the outside. Everyone said he seemed more lively. More outgoing. Brighter, even.
What they didn’t know was that his smile was a defense mechanism.
That he was laughing so loud so he wouldn’t start crying.
That the only reason he looked brighter was because he was burning from the inside out .
He kept laughing with the others. Kept taking group selfies. Kept shining in practice, shouting encouragements, leaning into Jay and Sunghoon’s jokes. He even made a joke himself that cracked up the entire room.
Ni-ki looked over then. Just for a second.
Sunoo saw the glance. But Ni-ki looked away before it could mean anything.
⸻
The pretending went on for weeks.
Every day, it got harder.
They used to talk every single morning—sometimes before the sun even rose. Sunoo used to wake up to good morning texts. Cute emojis. A little “☀️ You’re my sunshine today "
Now?
Nothing.
He stopped sending texts first. He wanted to see if Ni-ki would notice.
He didn’t.
And with every day that passed in silence, Sunoo felt another thread of their history snap loose inside him.
They had already broken up.
But Sunoo was still breaking.
⸻
He tried. God, he tried to do what Ni-ki asked—to be friends. To hang out like everything was fine. To smile like he wasn’t aching every time Ni-ki sat next to him like it was just another Wednesday.
“You okay?” Ni-ki asked him once, casually, like they were just bandmates.
Sunoo nodded. Smiled too quickly.
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
Ni-ki accepted the lie like it was nothing. Didn’t ask again.
And that was when Sunoo realized something awful.
Ni-ki wasn’t pretending.
Ni-ki had really moved on.
He meant it when he said he wanted to be friends—because to him, being friends didn’t feel like holding broken glass. He didn’t look like he was bleeding every time they sat next to each other.
But Sunoo did.
He bled quietly. Smiled through the cracks.
He was trying to be strong. Trying to stay in Ni-ki’s life in any way he could.
Because even if Ni-ki didn’t want to love him anymore, maybe he’d still need him. Maybe that would be enough.
But it wasn’t.
_____
Sunoo knew deep down—he couldn’t be friends.
Not really.
Because when you’ve loved someone like that, when your heart has memorized the rhythm of their voice, their breath, their laugh…
You can’t just switch it off.
You can’t just be “cool"
And yet, that’s what Ni-ki had asked of him.
And Sunoo, ever the soft one, ever the one who gave too much—even when he was empty—was still trying.
Trying to be his friend.
⸻
One day, during practice, Sunoo had a panic attack.
He didn’t tell anyone. He just stepped outside the studio for air, knees shaking. He leaned against the hallway wall and bit the inside of his cheek until the world stopped spinning.
He couldn’t do this forever.
He really couldn’t keep pretending.
⸻
And then—there was Sunghoon.
It wasn’t a conscious thing. It wasn’t revenge. It wasn’t about making Ni-ki jealous. It wasn’t anything dramatic.
Sunghoon just noticed.
He noticed when Sunoo’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. He noticed when his laugh sounded too loud. He noticed when he left the room too fast.
Sunghoon started staying close. Asking small things.
“Did you eat?”
“You looked tired today"
“Wanna come watch something after practice?”
And Sunoo started saying yes.
Because, for the first time in weeks, he could breathe around someone.
Sunghoon didn’t try to fix him. He didn’t say “you’ll be okay" He didn’t tell him to get over it.
He just sat with him. Talked when he needed to. Stayed quiet when he didn’t.
And Sunoo felt safe again. S afe .
It was the kind of presence Ni-ki had stopped giving him long before they broke up.
⸻
And maybe… maybe Sunoo was getting better.
Maybe the heartbreak had softened—not gone, but dulled into something quieter, something bearable. A background noise instead of a storm.
It was strange, really.
How silence could become a comfort when you’d spent so long fearing it.
After the dorm changes, after the comeback chaos, after they all got older and a little more tired, something shifted. Something final.
They stopped talking.
Not with a bang. Not with another fight. Not with bitterness.
Just… nothing.
The texts slowed, then disappeared. The little “how are you”s vanished. The casual hallway glances faded into polite nods. Eventually, Ni-ki and Sunoo moved in completely different directions. Different rooms. Different routines. Different people.
They weren’t friends.
Not anymore.
But they weren’t enemies either.
There was no hatred.
Sunoo didn’t hate Ni-ki.
That was the strange part.
He thought he would. For all the heartbreak, for all the confusion. For the way Ni-ki made him feel like he was asking too much just for existing. For loving too much. For wanting words when silence had been Ni-ki’s mother tongue.
But there was no anger.
There was just… nothing .
A big, blank space in his chest where Ni-ki used to live.
And maybe that was worse.
Because love hurts—but numbness? Numbness made you forget who you were.
⸻
Sunoo got good at being okay.
He smiled when he needed to. He danced like his body still belonged to him. He sang like the ache in his throat didn’t exist. He did his job well. He posted photos with cute captions. He filmed vlogs. He laughed on camera.
He was doing better.
At least, that’s what everyone said.
And maybe—on the surface—he was.
But behind closed doors, sometimes the grief came back. Not loud. Not screaming. Just a slow ache at 2 a.m. when the world was quiet and no one was asking anything from him.
Sometimes he cried into his pillow. Silent. Shaking. Careful not to be heard.
Sometimes he stared at the ceiling and asked himself questions no one could answer.
“Was I not enough?”
“Why didn’t he fight for me?”
“Did I mean anything at all?”
But mostly, he asked himself this:
“Why is he okay?”
Because Ni-ki looked fine.
He was fine.
That was the cruelest part of it all.
Ni-ki smiled like nothing had ever happened. Like their relationship hadn’t existed. Like he hadn’t held Sunoo’s hand in the dark and promised a future together.
Ni-ki had peace.
And Sunoo had pieces.
That wasn’t fair.
It just wasn’t.
So he decided—he had to be fine too.
He couldn’t keep bleeding while Ni-ki walked away spotless. That wasn’t fair to himself. He had given too much to come out of this with nothing but pain.
So he tried.
Tried to let go.
Tried to really let go—not just of Ni-ki, but of the idea that he needed closure. Or one last conversation. Or one last apology.
He wouldn’t get any of that.
And maybe that was the closure.
Maybe silence was its own kind of goodbye.
⸻
He thought about quitting.
A few times.
Not dramatically. Not out loud.
But in the quietest moments, when the dorm lights were off, when the others were asleep, when his breath felt too heavy to carry—
He thought about leaving.
About disappearing.
Not because he hated the group.
Not because he didn’t love performing.
But because staying meant seeing him.
And pretending he was okay with it.
Because every time he walked into a room and Ni-ki was there, sitting like a stranger, like he’d never been the center of his world…
It hurt.
Less than before.
But still— it hurt.
⸻
But he didn’t leave.
Because he remembered something:
He was more than this love.
He was more than Ni-ki’s silence.
He was more than a broken heart.
And the fans still loved him.
The members still loved him.
He was still him.
So he stayed.
He kept going.
Some days he stumbled. Some days he broke. Some days he wanted to scream.
But he kept going.
And slowly— slowly —he started feeling again.
Started laughing, and meaning it. Started dancing, and losing himself in the music the way he used to. Started smiling in photos without thinking about who wasn’t liking them anymore.
Started being Sunoo again.
Not Ni-ki’s Sunoo .
Just Sunoo .
⸻
And that was enough.
Not perfect.
Not healed.
But enough.
For now.
And maybe one day… he would look back at all of it—not with pain, not with regret—but with softness.
Because it was his first love.
And sometimes, the most beautiful things aren’t meant to last.
Sometimes they just teach you how to survive.
And Sunoo?
He survived.
And he’s still shining.
Even without him.
⸻
It had been months.
Months of pretending.
Of smiles across rooms that didn’t quite reach the eyes.
Of silence masked as peace.
Of being colleagues .
Not lovers. Not even friends.
Just… people who used to mean everything to each other.
And now?
Now they were polite.
Awkward.
Careful.
Like the remnants of something too fragile to name.
Sometimes they talked.
Not deeply, not the way they used to, but enough to pass for normal. Enough to avoid questions from the others. Enough to make it seem like they were fine.
Until Japan.
⸻
It was supposed to be a solo trip.
Ni-ki was going alone. A short schedule in Japan—his hometown. Nothing major. Just a small feature, some press, some dance filming.
But at the last minute, plans changed.
Sunoo was told he’d be going too.
A duet. A paired trip. Just the two of them.
He blinked when the manager told him. Nodded. Swallowed down the ache that immediately bloomed in his chest.
He didn’t say no.
He could’ve.
He could’ve made an excuse. Asked to be replaced. Asked for another member to go instead.
But he didn’t.
Because deep down, despite everything…
he still wanted to see him.
Even if it hurt.
Especially if it hurt.
⸻
They didn’t fly together.
Ni-ki left a day earlier.
Sunoo was added last minute. He decided to make it a surprise. Not out of sentiment—but because maybe, just maybe, the distance between them wasn’t permanent.
Maybe there was still something tender beneath all the broken pieces.
So he texted.
“Hey, I’m joining you in Japan. Surprise :)”
Ni-ki replied almost instantly.
“Seriously? That’s great!! I’m excited now.”
Sunoo stared at the screen for a while, his heart doing something unfamiliar.
Fluttering.
⸻
In Japan, something shifted.
They weren’t stiff anymore.
Not quite normal—but not cold, either.
They walked the streets together. Shared silly moments. Laughed in the way they used to.
Sunoo caught himself forgetting, just for a second, that they weren’t in love anymore.
Until the lollipop.
God. That stupid lollipop.
They were walking back from a quick shoot, eating candy from a local store—Ni-ki had insisted they buy some. He handed Sunoo a blue one, sweet and sticky. Sunoo laughed, unwrapped it, and started licking it absently as they talked.
And then—
Without warning—Ni-ki reached over, plucked it out of Sunoo’s mouth, and popped it into his own.
Like muscle memory. Like second nature.
He sucked on it for a second. Then, gently—almost shyly—placed it back into Sunoo’s mouth.
Sunoo froze.
Their eyes met.
And just for a second, it was like everything came rushing back.
The nights spent hiding under blankets, whispering love.
The playful teasing behind stage curtains.
The soft moments of sharing lollipops when they couldn’t kiss in public.
It was an indirect kiss.
Just like the old days.
And Sunoo—God, his heart broke all over again.
Because in that instant, he realized something terrifying.
He had never stopped loving Ni-ki.
Not for a single second.
⸻
Back at the hotel, they were in separate rooms.
Of course they were.
But Sunoo’s hands were still trembling when he shut the door behind him.
He hadn’t said a word about the lollipop.
Didn’t ask. Didn’t smile. Didn’t flirt.
He couldn’t.
He wanted to.
So badly.
But he was too scared.
⸻
Later that night, a message came through.
“Did you like the lollipop I gave you?”
Another one followed.
“How was today?”
Sunoo stared at his screen for a long time. His thumb hovered. Then… he lied.
“Yeah, it was nice. Thank you"
Short. Polite. Cold.
He was protecting himself.
But Ni-ki saw through it.
Because minutes later, another message came—this time more desperate, more raw than anything Ni-ki had said in a year.
“You don’t think anything about the lollipop? About what I did?”
“Did it not flutter your heart?”
“Because mine was beating so loud when we shared it. It felt like a kiss. It was a kiss"
“I missed you. So much"
Sunoo read the messages over and over, each one slicing deeper than the last.
He couldn’t breathe.
He wanted to reply. To scream yes , it fluttered his heart. Yes , he missed him too. Yes , he felt everything and more.
But all he said was:
“We can’t"
And that was the truth.
He couldn’t do this again.
He couldn’t fall into a love that only reached him halfway.
He couldn’t love Ni-ki for the both of them again.
He couldn’t carry the weight of silence and unanswered texts and pretending it didn’t hurt.
And he couldn’t disappoint Ni-ki..
He couldn't disappoint Ni-ki’s family.
Because he had met them.
He saw how Ni-ki was so happy around them.
He didn't want to break that.
He didn't want to be the one to make him regret his choices.
And if he tried again—and failed again—what would that say about him?
What would that say about them?
⸻
Ni-ki didn’t reply after that.
The silence was louder than any fight.
And Sunoo sat there, phone pressed to his chest, and whispered to no one
“I still love you… but I can’t be the only one trying"
⸻
Sunoo knew.
He knew, even as he sat there, staring at the ceiling of his hotel room in Japan with his message with Ni-ki’s still glowing on his screen, that he couldn’t do this again.
Not the almosts.
Not the maybes.
Not the waiting for something real to bloom from something that already wilted.
Because love—real love—shouldn’t feel like walking on glass barefoot, bleeding while pretending it’s nothing.
And yet, he still loved him.
God, he did.
That much hadn’t changed.
What had changed was what he could endure .
⸻
Sunoo had loved Ni-ki with the kind of purity only youth could allow—open-handed, all-in, reckless. Two years of secret smiles, of late-night texts, of soft I love yous in the dark. Two years of growing up side by side.
But Ni-ki had always been distant.
Beautiful, but closed.
Mysterious, and unreachable.
Sunoo gave everything. Ni-ki gave just enough.
And for a while, that imbalance looked like love.
⸻
But now?
Now they were standing on opposite cliffs with a canyon of silence between them.
And sure, there were bridges. Texts. Glances. A lollipop shared like the whisper of a kiss. A confession between hotel walls that didn’t go anywhere.
But Sunoo knew what followed confessions.
Silence.
Retreat.
Cold.
He knew that once this trip ended, once the lights dimmed and the rooms emptied and their flights took them in different directions again—
Ni-ki might pull away.
Again.
And he couldn’t survive that a second time.
Because what if this wasn’t about Sunoo at all?
What if Ni-ki was just chasing the memory of how Sunoo made him feel?
What if he missed the affection? The attention? The comfort?
Not Sunoo himself.
⸻
He didn’t want to wonder.
He didn’t want to ask.
Because he couldn’t survive hearing a truth he already feared.
He had to protect himself this time.
No more walking into heartbreak with open arms.
So he smiled when they met for breakfast the next day.
Laughed a little too easily.
Held Ni-ki’s gaze just long enough to be polite—but not enough to be personal.
He didn’t bring up the messages.
Ni-ki didn’t either.
The moment passed.
Like it always did.
⸻
When they returned to Korea, nothing changed.
No more texts. No more lollipops. No more shared beds or playful teases or second chances.
Just rehearsals.
Just schedules.
Just two boys—boys who used to love each other—standing in the same room, pretending not to ache.
And they were friends.
Only friends.
The kind that sometimes laugh too hard when they sit next to each other.
The kind that go quiet when their fingers brush by accident.
The kind that never say what they mean.
Maybe they were still in love.
Maybe they’d always be.
But they would never say that.
Because it was safer this way.
Because love isn’t always enough.
Because timing is cruel and some hearts learn too late how to stay.
⸻
So they stayed friends.
Only friends.
The kind that write each other into songs they never release.
The kind that wonder what would’ve happened if they’d been a little older.
A little braver.
A little better at loving each other right.
But they never say it.
They never will.
And this—whatever it was, whatever it still is —
Will stay in the quiet between them.
Unspoken.
Unfinished.
Unforgettable.