Your relationship with Seungcheol had always been intense. From the very beginning, it was impossible to ignore the way he made your heart race, the way his laughter could fill an entire room, and the way his presence had a pull on you, a gravitational force that you couldn’t escape. He was everything you needed at the time: charming, protective, and completely consumed by you.

But then, like so many things in life, it became too much.

The late-night calls from his manager. The fans constantly pulling him away from you. The late rehearsals and even later flights. As Seungcheol’s career took off, you started to feel like an afterthought, a side note in his already packed life. The communication started to dwindle, and so did the affection.

The bar was dim, the low hum of soft rock music mingling with the murmurs of other patrons. You had just gone off work, no dinner, no nothing. You’d only stopped in to escape the weight of your thoughts, seeking solace in the anonymity of the night. But as you slid onto the worn leather stool at the counter, the bartender placing your drink in front of you, your eyes drifted to a figure a few seats down.

Seungcheol.

He was hunched over his glass, the ice melting slowly as he absentmindedly swirled the amber liquid. His gaze was distant, but the moment you sat down, his eyes flickered toward you, widening slightly before settling into something unreadable.

“Hey,” he said after a moment, his voice rough like he hadn’t spoken in hours.

You looked away, not answering him. Thoughts raced through your head. What was he doing here?”