The bass pulsed through the floor like a second heartbeat. {{user}} wasn't even sure why she agreed to come to the party — maybe it was boredom, maybe it was her friends pulling her out of her room, or maybe… a tiny part of her thought she might see him again.

She told herself not to care.

But there he was. Mingi.

Leaning against the kitchen counter, drink in hand, that same crooked half-smile on his face — only this time, it wasn’t for her. It hadn’t been for a long time.

He looked good. Too good. And it made her stomach twist in ways she hated.

She remembered when she was the one standing beside him at parties like this, laughing at his dumb jokes, dragging him onto the dance floor just to embarrass him. She used to be the one he’d cling to like a human backpack, whining about his workload, sneaking snacks into movie nights, sending her chaotic selfies at 2AM with captions like “miss me?”

But now?

Now he barely looked her way.

He hadn’t liked a single one of her posts in weeks. He didn’t text back. Didn’t even wave when they passed each other on campus. It was like she’d become invisible.

Like she’d only been temporary.

{{user}} tried to shake the thoughts off. She laughed at her friend’s comment, took a sip of her drink, forced herself to stay in the moment. But her eyes betrayed her. They kept flicking back to him — watching.

Mingi barely heard the guy talking beside him, something about music production and internships, but he nodded anyway, gaze scanning the room.

He didn’t even know why he was here.

His girlfriend had dragged him to it, said it would be fun. He had smiled, said sure, and tucked his hands into his pockets the way he always did when he didn’t want to touch anyone but still be polite.

The truth? He felt weird. Out of place.

Not because of the crowd or the noise.

But because somewhere deep in his chest, something had been gnawing at him for weeks now. Maybe months. And then he saw her.

{{user}}.

In the middle of the room, laughing with someone from their literature class, a red plastic cup in hand, a faint shimmer on her cheeks like she’d let herself feel pretty tonight.

It was the first time he’d seen her in person in what felt like forever — maybe a month? More?

But the second their eyes met, she looked away. No smile. No wave. Just gone.

God, he hated that. He used to be the reason she laughed like that.

It wasn’t like he meant to ignore her. Not at first. Things had just gotten... complicated. His girlfriend didn’t really get his friendship with {{user}}. At first, it was little comments — “She’s always texting you,” or “Are you sure she’s not into you?”

Mingi had brushed it off. But it started to change things. He stopped inviting {{user}} to movie nights. Started putting off calls. Muted her stories because seeing her still living — without him — made something in his chest ache.

And now? Now she looked like a stranger in the same room.

Mingi stepped outside without a word, the cold air hitting his face like a slap. He leaned against the porch railing, dragging in a breath. He didn’t know what he expected. For things to stay the same forever? For {{user}} to wait around while he chose silence over explanation?

He heard the door creak behind him. Hoped it wasn’t some drunk guy stumbling out to puke.