WHAT COLOR ARE WAVES?

The problem with knowing someone too much is that you notice even the slightest bit of change in their actions.

A slight crease in their eyebrows, a barely-there flinch, a weary sigh. It's in the small things, and although actions speak louder than words, why does everything suddenly feels so defeaning?

Roséanne sighs at the thought.

The ugly rain splatters from outside their apartment window. Roséanne hugs her cardigan tighter as she tries to get a glimpse of the familiar white Tesla that her boyfriend drives, but all that she sees is the strong downpour of rain and the wet pavement below. No sign of Jimin, yet.

With a sigh, she checks her phone.

JIMIN
Coming home in 10.
11:45 PM

The clock above the television seems to mock her as it continues to tick religiously, the sound so loud inside the silent living room. She told herself to not spare the small device a glance, but she relents. Roséanne licks her lips in defeat and finally raises her eyes to check the time.

12:50 AM.

It's not that late, thinks. It's not.

But a lingering thought in her mind tells her otherwise.

A high-pitched sound disrupts the quiet. Roséanne peeks out just in time to see Jimin exiting the car with his briefcase covering his head. She used to scold for this behaviour months ago, she remembers, and he'd laugh and pull her against him just to tease her endlessly. One thing will lead to another, and then they'd find themselves all soaked up in the tub with bubbles in their hair and soap suds in their bodies.

Now she can't even find it in herself to care.

Jimin finally knocks on the door minutes later, and Roséanne slips her slippers on with a sigh. She walks to the door, a feeling of dread sinking in her heart, and opens it to reveal her boyfriend.

He looks tired. Exhausted. The dark bags under his eyes seems to be even more apparent under the dim lights of the hallway.

Roséanne stares at him. There was once a time where a burst of happiness would sear her chest whenever she sees Jimin, but even now, as he's showing her a half-hearted smile, she feels... nothing. There's nothing. Empty.

Frustration, maybe, a bit of sadness, but nothing.

Where did that feeling go?

She fakes a smile and steps aside. "Hey, babe."

Even the endearment sounds strange in her lips. Almost unnatural...

He leans forward to capture her lips in a kiss, but Roséanne places both of her hands on his chest.

"Don't," she murmurs, the corner of her mouth tilting upwards. "I just brushed my teeth."

It has never stopped them before, though. Roséanne knows that. Jimin does, too. But neither of them say anything as he pulls back, enters the flat and toes off his shoes near the rack.

It's quiet again. Roséanne goes to the kitchen counter to heat up Jimin's dinner. She looks behind her, expecting Jimin to follow like he always does, only to see an empty space.

He's not here.

She swallows. "Babe," she calls out again as she returns to the living room. "Do you want me to heat up your dinner for you? Prepare you a bath?"

Jimin remains where he's standing, only now, he has his phone in hand. A stupid grin is on his face, and Roséanne purses her lips.

"Babe."

He looks up, grin faltering. "Yes?"

She ignores the slight pang in her chest. "I asked if you wanted me to heat up your dinner."

"Ah, it's fine," he replies, attention returning to his goddamn phone again. "I'll take care of it. You go sleep," he says with a smile, transfixed by something on his screen.

Fuck, he isn't even looking at her.

Roséanne's jaw clenches in frustration. "You should've told me you could handle things on your own. That way I wouldn't have to stay up late," she tries to say as calmly as possible, the words coming out as weak.

Jimin chuckles after a notification pops up the screen. "No one told you to wait."

Of course. Of course. He's acting like this. He must've been on a night out with his friends, she figures, judging by the flush on his cheeks. He's probably tipsy.

Yeah, maybe that's it.

Still, Roséanne hates how she has to guess her boyfriend's whereabouts. Jimin doesn't tell her his plans for the day, not like before, and now she feels like a fool for not knowing what has been happening in his life.

It's probably just a phase, she thinks. Couples do that. It's normal.

"I'll go to sleep," she announces to no one in particular. Jimin continues tapping on his phone. "Just come up if you're done."

But Roséanne knows he never will. They haven't slept in the same bed for more than a month now, and Jimin's side of the bed has always been empty. Cold.

Her boyfriend doesn't say anything else as she heads towards their--her room, lies down on the bed, and pulls the blanket up her chest.

It's just a phase, she tells herself, staring at Jimin's empty space. It's normal.

It happens.

( WHITE AS SNOW WHEN THEY BREAK.

DID YOU SURVIVE THE DRIFT OKAY? )

༄ؘ༄ؘ

STILL AS A PEBBLE
COULD YOU STAY?

Is it possible to fall out of love with the person you've spent the last five years of your life with?

It's a question that's always been on Roséanne's mind whenever she's alone with no one but her thoughts. It's something that she ponders on for the last four months. Is it possible, though?

Maybe it is... but it shouldn't be.

Roséanne hates how this simple question makes her feel. Jimin is--was her person. She used to find solace with just being with him, in his arms, under his touch. He used to make her feel everything and nothing, he used to be her light.

That's the thing, though. Used to.

She thinks those words are cruel. Used to. It's something you had, something that belonged to you... something that your treasured dearly.

She hates how it perfectly describes what Jimin is to her.

Used to. Belonged. Something she had.

"Chaeng."

At his voice, she blinks back the tears. God, has she been tearing up all this time? During dinner, out of all places.

"Yes?" She asks, using all her courage to look up at her boyfriend's eyes.

Jimin sits there with his eyes on his lap, his food untouched.

Roséanne knows why they were here. It's the first dinner that they've had in months, in the comfort of their apartment, but the warmth that used to be in here suddenly feels suffocating that she wants to choke on it. She wasn't surprised when Jimin asked her to meet up for dinner, and they both were aware of the conversation that's to come.

His throat bobs as he swallows, finally meeting her gaze for the first time that night.

(And they've been sitting here for almost an hour.)

He takes a deep breath, nervous. "Chaeng." Chaeng, not babe. Chaeng. "I know we aren't in the... best of terms lately."

Roséanne knows that. She does, but it doesn't stop the tightening of her stomach. She nods slowly.

It's the first time one of them has spoken something about this... this air around them. Usually it's the other way around, but Roséanne doesn't have it in her to confront him.

Because if she does, it will become real.

"Don't you have anything to say?" Jimin suddenly questions her, gaze sharpening ever so slightly. Roséanne shakes her head. "Anything at all?"

No. There isn't anything.

Roséanne cuts through the steak again and places the recently cut piece into her mouth. It's too salty, she thinks, but she chews it anyways.

"You're always like this."

She stops.

And then continues to cut through the meat. She doesn't look at him. He doesn't look at her. The apartment is silent apart from their beating hearts and thrumming veins--one pumping too loudly, the other calm and collected.

He speaks again. "You don't say anything, even if I know you have something going on your head." She's quiet because it's true. "Sometimes I wonder... I wonder if you still trust me."

Her hands tighten on her utensils. No, they aren't fighting. They haven't fought during these past months. Not even one argument.

She knows she should be thankful, but that isn't normal. Couples fight. It's all a part of a relationship.

Suddenly, Roséanne prefers the time when they'd throw hurtful words at each other at 3AM in the evening. That is so much better than the calm that they have now. The screams and the tears are even better than this kind of quiet.

"You've always been quiet these past few weeks," he continues, leaning back on his seat. "You don't talk to me when something is bothering you. You don't reach out and ask what I'm up to. It's always just... quiet."

Roséanne purses her lips.

"I'm your boyfriend, Chaeyoung. We've been together for years now. Talk to me," he sighs. "Please."

She wants to, hell, she wants to, but the words don't come. Her mind is a jumbled mess, the words arranging and rearranging themselves to form a coherent sentence that perfectly describes what she feels, but nothing comes.

Roséanne's hands start to tremble.

She doesn't want it to be real.

Jimin sighs, and she notes the tiredness in his voice. "Chaeyoung, I just... I've been wondering," he murmurs. "Do you really care about me? About anything that I do?"

Yes, she wants to say. But she could only clench her teeth.

"Anything at all?"

Roséanne doesn't want it to be real, but she finally gathers enough strength to speak up.

"I know."

Jimin stops. His breath hitches.

"You know what?" He asks, but there's a slight shake to his voice.

"I know you've been seeing someone."

A heavy silence hangs in the air.

And then Jimin chuckles.

"Of course I am," he says. "I go to work every day. Of course I'm seeing a lot of people."

"No." She's quick to reply. "No. I mean, her."

The smile disappears from his face.

"I know she makes you smile," she continues, staring at Jimin's unbuttoned collar. Speaking isn't easy, but she forces herself to utter the words that she dreads to say. "I know you're with her every night. I know you spend the entire day talking to her. I know you like her."

She's seen it. During one of the times that she attempted to win him over, she saw them both at the lobby of his company building. Together, looking as happy as they can be while holding each other's gazes.

Roséanne has been on the receiving end of Jimin's gaze once, too. So she knows. More than she could ever say.

"How?" He doesn't voice out the other words, but she knows what he's asking for. How did you know?

"I know because," her chest constricts at the sudden overwhelming feeling. "I know because that's how you used to look when you smile at me, Jimin."

Used to. How she hated those words.

"Chaeyoung."

There it is. The slight hesitation in his voice, undertoned with regret and disappointment. She doesn't fail to miss it, for she has known her boyfriend for too long for her to memorise the way his tones were carefully honed and crafted to avoid even the slight hint of any negative feeling, and right now, it isn't.

"She makes you happy," she finishes. It's not a question. It's the truth, and he knows it, too.

Jimin closes his eyes and breathes out.

It's stupid, but she's still holding onto a small sliver of hope that he'd deny it. That he'd say it isn't true.

When he opens them again, he looks down. "She does."

Her hands freeze.

Now it's real.

She waits for one second, two, three,

but it doesn't come.

Roséanne places her utensils on the table and pins her gaze on him. Whenever she looks at Jimin, she sees the entire constellation in his eyes: the Andromeda and Orion and the Velorum, tracing through his pupils and dotting the black in them with speckled dust, but right now, all she sees is nothing. Blank. Empty. An abyss. Nothing.

"She makes you happy..." she repeats, tasting the words on her mouth, waiting for that spike of fear to hit her squarely on the jaw and make her bleed in front of him,

but it doesn't come.

That doesn't stop the tears from falling, though.

Jimin, her boyfriend, looks at her and nods. He doesn't bother leaning over to wipe the tears like he always does, he just lets them flow freely. "Yes... and I'm sorry."

God, it's so real.

She's made peace with it. She's adapted to it. She has accepted it. She's okay with it. At least, that's what she thinks, but fuck, why does it still hurt?

Because it's real, she reminds herself. He said it. It's real.

"Okay," she says. She doesn't sob, she doesn't whimper. The tears just continue to fall. Silent. "Okay, Jimin."

It's quiet again. The tension is so thick, but Roséanne can't find it in her to do something. To say anything. She's just... tired. She wants to sleep.

She makes you happy, she thinks. But I don't.

"I think," Jimin eventually says. Roséanne tenses, fearing his next words. "I think we should go to bed."

Go to bed. That isn't what she's expecting.

"We should," she agrees in a small voice. It's Jimin who moves first, standing up from his seat without as much of a noise.

"I still have work to do," he mutters, but Roséanne knows what that means. She's known him enough to know that his words sometimes mean a whole other thing, but she understands.

She always does.

"Okay."

So she stands up, walks to her room, and closes the door.

Now that she's alone, the pain immediately engulfs her chest. It spreads, and it hurts so bad that the tears just keep on coming.

She slowly slides to the floor, leaning back onto the door of her room. There, with no one around her but the darkness of the night and the streetlamp outside, she can finally bleed.

Jimin is falling out of love. It's real.

( IN MY SMALL CHIMNEY,

COULD YOU STAY? )

༄ؘ༄ؘ

DON'T TAKE THE ONLY
NAME YOU KNOW.

Roséanne doesn't sleep. It's the third day since that night, and she hasn't gotten more than a 2-hour nap. At first, she thought she could finally find peace in the dream-hazed world, but all that greeted her was the void. A never-ending darkness. Nothingness.

The abyss that reminded her of Jimin's eyes. His eyes that once held the stars, but now had nothing.

And every time she wakes up, sweat rolling down her temples, she remembers him. The empty house. The quiet living room. The silent ticking of the clock. She remembers him, and she remembers everything.

She accepts it. She knows. But why does it hurt all the more?

Roséanne rubs her eyes as she reaches for the abandoned wine bottle in the kitchen counter. Among all things, drinking is her favourite. It's keeps her calm, and it makes her forget what has been happening the past few days.

Not entirely enough, but it helps.

The door to the bathroom suddenly opens, and Roséanne flinches at the sound. Right, Jimin still lives here. He still goes home every night. He still sleeps in the same couch Roséanne sits in, and he still drinks the same coffee that she bought in the grocery store.

It somehow feels bittersweet.

"Morning," Jimin greets, voice deep with sleep. She only hums in reply as she takes another swig of wine and he goes to the coffee maker to prepare his drink for the morning.

It's funny, she thinks. She's here, still in last night's clothes, trying to get herself drunk at 7:46 am. Meanwhile Jimin is freshly clothed, looking as clean and as collected as ever, waiting for his caffeine. Yeah, it's blatantly obvious which one of them has their lives figured out.

While the kitchen is quiet and the birds are chirping, it doesn't stop Roséanne's heart from picking up speed. Jimin is here, in front of her, in their apartment. He's here, he's only a few steps close, but he feels so far away. Roséanne can't reach him, both physically and emotionally.

It's hard. Still is.

The morning after their talk was harder, though. She vaguely remembers going to the kitchen, thinking that Jimin had finally gone to his girl and eloped, only to find him packing up his own lunch.

She remembers them meeting gazes. She remembers being aware of her bloodshot eyes and tear stained cheeks. She remembers Jimin looking away before she can even say anything, and she remembers her lips trembling as she returns to her room to cry again.

God, she's so pathetic. This is probably why Jimin doesn't want her anymore.

"You're drinking wine?" He finally notices while leaning next to the sink. She looks up to see him staring at the Chateau Coutet next to her. "In the morning?"

Roséanne swallow the lump in her throat and nods stiffly. "Yeah."

It's their first proper conversation, and the air is so tense she could cut through it with the knife. It's uncomfortable. This... this has never happened before.

"It's bad for you, you know."

And now he cares?

Roséanne knows she has to do something. It's clear that the both of them aren't happy anymore. Jimin has set his eyes on someone, she's been sleeping alone in their bedroom. It's a dead end.

However, it's not... easy. It's not easy. It's not easy letting go of the person who has been with her since they were children. Jimin has seen her from all different angles. He's been a witness to her failures, her wins. He's seen her break down and pick herself up together. He knows her, from the way she scrunches up her nose to indicate that she feels unwell, to the way she taps her fingers to show that she's concentrating.

He knows her too well. Better than herself, even. Roséanne is just scared that she'd find someone else who won't.

Jimin clears his throat when she doesn't reply. "It was Jeongguk's birthday last night," he attempts again, referring to his office mate. What for? Roséanne wonders. "He asked where you were."

She averts her eyes, guilt eating up her insides. Sometimes she forgets that their friends aren't aware of what's happening between them. "Yeah, I know."

He blinks, and then takes a sip of his hot coffee. "You know... so why didn't you come?"

The questioning expression in his face makes her want to scoff. Is it not that obvious?

"You didn't want me there." Jimin furrows his brows. Underneath the table, her hands start to shake. "You didn't want me there because she was with you. So, I didn't come."

The girl works in the same company as him. It's expected she'd be there.

Jimin purses his lips momentarily. "Chaeng."

"It's alright, Jimin. I know," she tries to sound like it doesn't bother her, but the waver in her voice betrays her. Just then, her chest starts to hurt again. "It's okay."

God. She hates this.

Why is she so weak?

The kitchen is silent once more. Jimin doesn't move, and Roséanne only pours herself more wine.

Better to be drunk than hurting, she thinks.

After taking two long sips, she finally voices out the question that she dreads the answer to. With a sigh, she asks, "Do you like her that much, Jimin?"

His head whips up so fast, Roséanne sees his eyes soften when it lands at her. "Chaeyoung. I... I don't... "

She barely feels the fresh pools of tears in the both of her eyes when she continues. "You said she makes you happy," she says, voice cracking, "do you like her?"

He gulps. Roséanne follows the movement with her eyes, although blurry. "I don't know."

There. She has her answer.

"Mm. Stop lying," she smiles at him, forced, sounding resigned. "I know you don't love me anymore, Jimin."

Saying it outright feels like a weight has settled on top of her chest. A feeling of heaviness spreads through her body that she feels like her heart is going to burst.

"What are you--"

She's hurting. Fuck, it hurts. Why does it hurts?

"And it's okay. I can't force you to love me like you used to, but it's okay."

"Chaeng," Jimin says, breathless, "when did you... when--?"

The question is obvious. When did you know?

Ah, it's real.

"It's not a matter of when or how, Jimin," she says quietly, wrapping her arms around herself. "I just... I don't feel loved anymore."

She sees the exact moment the realization and regret dawn on his face.

Fuck. He didn't even know.

"I don't feel loved anymore," she repeats, and the words hit even harder. "You skip all the meals I cook you. You don't tell me what bothers you. You don't... it's not like I'm even here at all."

He takes an unsure step. His arms twitch by his sides, but Roséanne already understands what he's attempting to do.

"Jimin," she speaks his name like a prayer. Reverent. He stops. "Jimin, when... remember what I said that night in Busan? When I told you I like the way you kiss me?"

He nods. It's been nearly eight years since that night, but she still remembers it like it was yesterday.

"These past few months, the way you kiss me... it's different," she murmurs, transfixed by the wine in her glass. "It's like... you're hesitant. Like you're unsure about it. About me."

Jimin looks away.

"I know I'm right. I know you." She does, just like how he knows her. "I'm right, aren't I?"

He shakes his head, but a chuckle leaves her lips.

Jimin flinches at the broken sound.

"If I'm not right then," Roséanne gulps. She's aware that the next question is going to change all of this. Everything. Them. "Then... do you still want me?"

He drops his gaze.

It's quiet.

The sound is so loud Roséanne can't hear anything else but their own breathing.

This is the end, she realizes. It's over.

Her bottom lip quivers at the thought, and only then she releases the tight grip that she has on her self-control.

She finally unravels right in front of him.

The tears flow freely on her cheeks now, and a quiet sob makes its way past her lips. She doesn't bother stopping them. It's no use. A five-year of relationship thrown down the drain. A lifetime of knowing each other forgotten just like that.

Jimin isn't hers now, he belongs to someone else.

Or, maybe he wasn't even hers to begin with.

"Chaeng," she hears him speak softly. It's the voice he uses whenever she cries, but it only caused more tears to flow. "Chaeng, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen. I'm so sorry, Chaeng, I'm so--"

She shakes her head. "I'm not mad at you, Jimin," she whispers thickly. "I understand. It's okay. I know."

The words slip out so easily, but she's a whirlwind of pain and heartbreak on the inside.

She is such a fool. Pathetic.

Roséanne laughs harshly to herself. "Ah, why did I even try..."

"Chaeng." Footsteps suddenly come nearer. She tenses, curling on herself when--

Ting!

The iPhone notification echoes in the space. Roséanne closes her eyes. She already knows what it means. She hears Jimin returning back to the coffee maker where he placed his phone to get it.

Even without saying anything, she knows it's her.

"I've got to go to work," he speaks up after a little while. She only keeps her mouth shut, eyes stuck on the marble countertop and its swirling designs. "Bye, Chaeng."

He passes by her, padding softly on top of the wooden floor.

"Jimin," she calls out without thinking.

Jimin whips his head back around and raises his brows.

Roseanne is aware of how stupid she might sound, but the words have started to serve as a comfort the more she thinks about it.

Gulping, she says, "I'll still be here for you, though." Her eyes travel down to his collared shirt, his slacks, his shoes. Then, she meets his eyes. "If things don't work out... you can always come back to me."

She means it.

Jimin only nods.

Roséanne watches as he turns back around and heads towards the exit.

Hope is a dangerous thing, but she can't help but hold on to it.

"Chaeng," he calls out again before pulling open the living room door. She hums. "Don't bother waiting for me. I won't come home tonight."

The door closes.

This must be it, she thinks. It's the end.

( USELESS MAGIC,

DETESTABLE FLOWERS. )

༄ؘ༄ؘ

STOP. THIS ISN'T YOU.

Roséanne is in her home--their home, but she's never felt more lost at sea.

The sun looks lovely outside, dancing among treetops and spreading warmth with its rays. The breeze blows gently and she thinks it would the perfect day to do have a picnic... only if she had something to have it with.

It's been nearly four months since he left and she should have adjusted to this new life now, but she hasn't. She still isn't used to waking up in the morning and finding the house empty. Isn't used to going home every night to be greeted by the same silent she left it with. Isn't used to cook dinner for herself, and always had left overs that she'd give away to friends.

It's wrong. It's all wrong.

She likes being alone, but she hates being lonely.

Perhaps this is her punishment. She gave her all to him and left nothing for herself, and this is what she gets in return.

She wonders if he thinks about her. Does he still remember her favourite color? Her favourite flowers? Her favourite weather?

Maybe... maybe not. Maybe once. Maybe never.

Roséanne opens her phone again for the nth time that day and sees a notification from one her friends, telling her about a new movie they should see this weekend, and a bunch of updates from her family back in her hometown. She replies to them quickly, but there's still something that she yearns for.

Him.

Ans if the universe won't allow that, all that she wants is to his face again, to feel his lips against her skin. Or just his presence. Anything, really. Roséanne won't mind, just as long as it's him.

But maybe he's not coming back. Maybe he left for good.

Unconsciously, her eyes drop down to her lockscreen. It's a selfie that he took years ago: the both of them by the Bondi Beach, eyes crinkled to a matching smile and the sunshine lighting up their faces. They look happy. They looked happy.

Roséanne smiles at the memory.

Hope is a dangerous thing, she's painfully aware of that. But it's also hope that she's clinging onto as she stands near her window, waiting for a certain blond haired man to walk towards her front door.

* * *

It's December. The atmosphere is cold, and Roséanne is bundled up in several layers of sweats as she cooks an easy sirloin steak in the kitchen. Home Alone is serving as the background music, aside from the occasional crackling of the fireplace and the howl of the wind.

It's cozy. Comfy. Just what she needs.

As soon as she deems the steak done, she takes it out from the pan and places it next to her bowl of chunky mashed potatoes. Humming a random tune, she skips her way to the living room and settles in between the stacks of pillows, sighing contentedly.

She busies herself with the movie for a moment, laughing at her favourite scenes and screaming whenever something surprises her. December nights have always been her favourite, even more so when she's covered with blankets and a Christmas movie is playing in the background.

There's something missing, yeah, but she doesn't want to think about that. Not now.

As the movie credits roll, the doorbell rings.

Huh.

It's unexpected. No one comes to visit, it's in the middle of December, for Christ's sake. Most of her friends are in their home towns by now, and everyone in the neighborhood is busy to even bother visiting her in the wee hours of the night.

Sighing, Roséanne stands up from her little fort and heads towards the door. She pulls it open without a care and then... her heart drops.

Because in front of her--

Oh God. In front of her...

It's him.

Him.

He looks... exhausted. Weary. His eyes have dark bags under them, hair a dirty blond mess. He's bundled up in winter coats, too, a single duffel bag hangs on his shoulder as he smiles up at her softly.

"Chaeng," he says in greeting, eyes sweeping over her.

She freezes.

Is this real?

His voice sounds too real.

Is this--

"It's me," he adds as if he noticed her confusion. "It's Jimin."

It's him.

Roséanne blinks, and she feels everything inside her come to life. Her heart starts to beat faster, her senses increasing by the second. "Jimin," she repeats, and he nods. "Jimin, I... what are you doing here?"

His smile drops. "I just..."

Somehow, she knows what his answer will be. She understands. With a swallow, she says, "She left, didn't she?"

Jimin's fallen face is the only answer she gets.

Even after all these months, she still knows him like the back of her hand.

"I didn't..." He clutches his bag even tighter, his long fringe falling over his eyes, "I didn't know where else to go."

Roséanne just stares it him. He looks tired, worn out. His shoulders slump forward, as if he's carrying all the weight in the world in them. His clothes were ruffled, and she tries to drink him in. Every single change, every familiarity.

He's still her Jimin, but at the same time, he isn't.

"Chaeng, I--" His voice starts to shake. "Chaeng, I know we weren't on good terms when I left. Things were... not in the right places. We miscommunicated... had a lot of misunderstandings... and I..." He looks at her, gaze sincere and regretful. "I'm sorry."

She knows she should be mad. She should be. He was cheating on her. He neglected her, took everything she gave for granted, left her without a doubt. She should slap him and scream at his face to get out, go back to his new girl, leave her alone. She should be angry.

But she can't.

There's no ounce of rage inside her. No fire left in her body.

Somehow, she just... understands. She accepts it.

But still--

The pain is still there. The wound is still fresh, even if it's been several months.

"It's okay," she finds herself saying. "I know you are."

Jimin stares at her, perplexed and looking a little relieved. "Are you--"

"I've already forgiven you." She isn't supposed to be this easy. She should show him out and push him away, but-- "When you left that day, I, already forgave you."

This isn't what she's supposed to say, but it feels right.

Jimin's eyes start to water. He opens his arms and embraces her, hugs her so tight she feels all her broken pieces piece back together.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," he murmurs wetly, dropping soft kisses in her hair. "I'm so sorry. Please don't--" he holds her tighter, "please don't leave me."

Please don't leave me.

She knows what the implication meant. Jimin staying here would be another orbit around the sun, another journey she has to take. A new beginning.

It sounds scary, but it's okay. She could do it. Love is supposed to be scary.

"Stay with me."

Loving Jimin is as easy as breathing, and if he asked, she'd gladly take lungfuls of him until she knows nothing and no one but Jimin, Jimn, Jimin.

She'd give her all of her--willingly... undoubtedly.

She already has. The moment he took her into his arms, she already did.

"I won't leave you," Roséanne says against his skin, the words imprinting themselves with her breath. She hopes it settles deep into his bones, so that he knows just how much he means to her. "Even if you're always leaving me."

He stares at her again, and there it is. The galaxy. His eyes speckle with glittering dust, the promise of a star-filled future. It's been so long since she has seen it, yet the feeling of wonder is still the same.

And then he cups her face. Looks at her for permission.

Unsurprisingly, she nods.

When her lips meets his, she tastes the constellations: the Andromeda and the Orion and the Velorum--honey sweet, dripping with velvet and the cataclysm of the galaxies. She tastes the stars, everything, she tastes Jimin. She tastes his warmth, his gentleness. She tastes home.

He pulls away and rests his forehead against hers. "I'm sorry," he whispers.

"I know."

He lets his head fall into her shoulder, arms wrapping around her waist. Roséanne holds him, and suddenly, everything feels complete again.

It's dangerous--this thing they have. It's risky and it's painful and it's a gamble, but Roséanne knows that. She knows. She also knows she should stop hurting herself like this, but she can't.

It's impossible. Not when Jimin keeps the stars in his eyes, and all Roséanne wants to do is to keep him to herself.

( JUST STAY. )

THE END.

* * *

a/n: yayyyy that's it!! this is my second attempt on angst and i hope it's angsty enough. this story highlights a toxic relationship, wherein one person is desperately holding onto the other and wants them to stay despite the toxicity between them. therefore there is no character development, no character growth, bc both jimin and rosé keep on doing the same cycle over and over again even if the both of them are hurt.

eaeon's don't ft. rm is such a good song and i fell in love w it at first listen. toxic relationships suck, but somehow we still go back to them...

anyw, any thoughts abt the one shot? hshshshddhdh id love to know them!

thank u for reading ~~

caly x