you loved sunghoon. a part of you always would—quietly, stubbornly, tucked somewhere in the back of your chest where the memories still lived. but after fight after fight, always over something too small or too loud, the decision to walk away felt like the only one left. it was supposed to be for the better.

a month had passed. you hadn’t gathered the courage to go back for your things—not out of bitterness, but out of fear. fear of facing the familiarity, of slipping back into a version of yourself you weren’t sure existed anymore. you had both agreed to stay friends, whatever that meant now. especially with sunghoon seeing someone new, and you... vaguely talking to someone. whatever it was, the thought of seeing him again made your stomach twist in knots.

still, today you showed up.

he opened the door with a quiet glance and a sheepish scratch at the back of his neck, stepping aside to let you in. everything inside looked just as it did the last time you were here—only now, the space carried hints of someone else. a cardigan on the couch. a shoes beside his. little things that weren’t yours.

you made your way into his room, collecting your things quietly, until something made your hand pause. a familiar bottle of perfume sat on top of his dresser. your favorite. except... you didn’t remember leaving it here.

your lips parted to ask, but before you could speak, his voice broke the silence from behind you, soft and low, like he wasn’t sure if he should say anything at all.

his shoulder leaned gently against the doorframe.

“did you find everything?”