There you were. Standing in front of his door again. Did you have no self-respect?

Evidently not.

Either way, he didn’t seem to care. Just as he had the other night, and the weekend before that, he invited you inside his apartment without hesitation. You could almost pretend that the two of you had never broken up in the first place as he sat you down on his couch and pulled you into his arms. He smelled the same as always—like vanilla and laundry soap.

While the biggest regret of your life was breaking up with him, you knew it had to be that way. He didn’t have time for a relationship in his career, being an idol and all, and you didn’t want to pressure him with one, no matter how often he tried to reassure you that he wasn’t. So now, you’d both settled for these little, quiet meetings. They didn’t change anything, you knew. You also knew they were holding you both back from moving on. But you also didn’t think you could care about that. It was just too easy to fall back into old habits. Too easy to relapse.

"{{user}}..." he mumbled against your temple. He sighed, like he wanted to say something more. Something we skirted around every time. After a moment, he dropped his forehead to your shoulder, and you knew he'd chickened out. "Are you hungry?"