:ㅤ(⌖)ㅤ𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐋, 𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔  ⸻

• CHARACTERS 𓈒 ࣪ ִ   Kian Ahn, Kamryn Morrison
•TIMESTAMP 𓈒 ࣪ ִ   April 8, 2025 [ pre comeback ]
•W/C 𓈒 ࣪ ִ   2.8K words
•WARNINGS 𓈒 ࣪ ִ  Kian losing himself in confessing his feelings for one of his close friends. Him not quite knowing what love is.
• SYNOPSIS𓈒  ࣪  ִ Kian has never had these feelings before. At least not for one of his friends. He didn't really understand love or do the whole relationship thing except when it was platonic or with his family. He had never known love romantically, but with these feelings, maybe that was starting to change?

—

Kian wasn't impossible to love, right? No. He was starting to learn that. Why did he let that one person make him think he wasn't loved? Why did they make him so desperate for their love? Why did he strive and practically beg for their love when he knew they wouldn't give it to him. They never gave it to his brother so why did he expect them to give it to him? All they did was screw up his perception of love. What was love?

It was a question he used to ask himself all the time back then. What was love? What was the feeling of love? Kian didn't know and he was pretty sure he still didn't know now. The word itself seemed scary enough to him. Love. The commitment of love felt like a tether he didn't ask for—binding, blinding, and always just out of reach.

The commitment of love—of choosing someone again and again, even when it's hard, even when it hurts—was something he'd only ever seen from the outside. It was supposed to feel safe, warm, like being known without having to explain yourself. But to Kian, it was a concept more than a feeling, a story people told that he couldn't quite step into.

But then again, he's never felt that way before...well, not until he met her. He doesn't know where these feelings came from. He wasn't supposed to crush or have these feelings for his best friend. He hadn't known her long yet there was a connection between them. One that he could feel, but he wasn't quite sure if she could. But then again, maybe he wasn't the only one who was blind to these feelings.

-

Number 8. That's the number of therapy lessons he's been through since he's returned to America. It's not that much but they make the days seem longer. He fell back onto his bed with a sigh. He wondered...when would it all be over? The therapist and his dad wondered the same. When would Kian go back to being...Kian? And to be honest, he wondered the same as well. Would it be before his group made the comeback? He wished. He wanted to be on stage with them and perform their new songs. He wanted to meet the fans. He wanted to smile and laugh with his members again.

But he knew the importance of his hiatus, even though in the beginning, he was hesitant about it all. He didn't need one. He didn't want one. But he needed one. He had come to accept it, even though it seemed to be the only thing him and his dad could talk about at the dinner table. Hiatus this...Hiatus that. How about how was your day? Do you feel better? He would rather listen to his dad going on and on about Yari's achievements, then talk about his hiatus.

He was tired of it. He wanted to talk about something else. He didn't want people to worry about him. He was fine. The therapy sessions were helping him. All he wanted was for them to talk about something else for one minute. He ran a hand over his face as if he could wipe away the heaviness clinging to him, force a reset, pretend—just for a moment—that everything wasn't still quietly unraveling beneath the surface. He just wanted something to take his mind off of everything. Silence his thoughts. Silence the world, and most importantly silence the concerns.

The silence of the room was muffled by the sound of someone calling him. A familiar ringtone. In your arms by Saib..... just the sound of it was enough to put a smile on his face. She always seems to know when it was the perfect time to call him or message him. He needed it. He needed her... Her and her calmness that helped him stop worrying about things. Kami. She had a way of helping him feel calm and at peace. He picked up his computer not wanting to make her wait any longer.

The moment the call connected, it felt like time stood still. There she was smiling that big smile she always seem to have whenever he answered her call. She smiled at him like he was the only person in the room. She smiled at him like he deserved nothing but happiness. And for a split second, Kian forgot what heaviness felt like—forgot the silence, the questions, the ache—because in her eyes, it almost felt like he was someone worth smiling at. Someone worth loving.

"How do you do that?" he asked, not taking his eyes off her. His voice was low, nearly drowned out by the soft hum of the laptop fan. Kami stopped mid-laugh, her expression shifting to one of confusion. She blinked, tilting her head slightly as her smile faded. "Do what?" Kian looked away, jaw tightening for a moment as he stared down at the blanket twisted in his lap. His fingers picked at a loose thread, then stilled. Slowly, he lifted his gaze back to the screen.

"Just smile and make everything seem ok what is that. You make me realize that I can be happy and that I won't have to worry about not feeling loved or cared for. You'd make me think that life is going to be alright. And I don't know if I need that. I don't know if I should have that type of mindset right now with what I'm going through. But yet you make me want to have that. You make me want to be happy."

He said it quietly, like the words had been sitting in his chest for too long, waiting for the right moment—or the right person—to fall in front of.  Kami didn't answer right away.

Her expression softened, the confusion melting into something gentler—something that looked like understanding. She leaned in a little, as if that small movement might close the space between them, even through the screen.

"Kian..." she said his name softly, like it was something fragile she didn't want to break. Her eyes didn't leave his, even though there were pixels and distance between them.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, exhaling slowly. "I don't know how I do it. I just... care. About you. About how you're doing. About how you're really feeling."

Her voice wavered a little, then steadied. "And if I ever made you feel even a little bit like things could be okay... then I'm glad. Because you deserve that. You deserve peace, and happiness, and love, even if it's hard to believe sometimes."

She paused, her eyes searching his. "You don't have to be ready for all of that right now. But I'll still be here. Even when you're not sure."

Kian didn't know what to say. But then again, this was the same girl who had his feelings and his mind screwed up a few months ago.

He let out a shaky breath, his fingers tightening around the edge of his sleeve. "You know... there was a time not too long ago when I thought I might be in love with you." The words felt strange coming out—foreign and familiar all at once.

He glanced at the screen, then away again. "It wasn't just a little crush. It felt big, even if I didn't understand it back then. You made me feel seen. Safe. And that scared the hell out of me."

He swallowed hard. "But when everything started falling apart—when the disorder took over—I kind of lost that part of myself. The part that could feel things like that clearly. I stopped holding onto the crush because I didn't know if I could hold onto anything anymore."

He looked back at her, eyes soft. "But I still love you. Not in the same way, maybe. Not in a way that expects anything from you. It's just... there. Quiet. Still breathing somewhere inside me." He sighed looking down at his hands as he finally got it off his chest. Keeping it all these months felt like a huge secret. Which pained him because he usually told her everything.

Maybe he didn't tell her because he didn't wanna ruin their friendship? Maybe because he saw that she was happy with someone else? That he couldn't be that person for her. No... he couldn't hold onto that anymore. Not when he was trying to better himself after everything he's been through. As much as he wanted to act on that feeling, he just couldn't. It wouldn't be right to her or her boyfriend nor him.

There was a pause. Kami blinked at him, her mouth slightly open like she wasn't sure she heard him right. Then, a tiny laugh slipped out—awkward at first, almost nervous.

"Wait... seriously?" she said, the words tumbling out with a flush creeping up her neck. She brought a hand to her mouth for a second, trying to hide the shy grin tugging at her lips. "You liked me?"

Her voice was quieter now, gentler. "That's actually... really sweet."

She adjusted her seat on the bed, pulling her knees up a little. The movement made it feel like she was settling in—not just on the call, but into the moment too. Her tone shifted as she glanced at him again through the screen, almost teasing but soft.

"You know... since we're already on that topic," she said with a small smile, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Do you remember when we first met?"

She didn't wait for him to answer before continuing, her voice dropping to something more nostalgic. "I had the biggest crush on you for the first few months we got to know each other."

She gave a quiet laugh, looking off to the side like the memory embarrassed her. "I didn't say anything because... well, you were you. And I thought maybe you didn't even notice me like that."

Kian didn't say anything. He just stared—eyes fixed on her, expression unreadable. Not blinking. Not moving.

Kami's smile faltered slightly. She leaned a bit closer to the screen, squinting. "Um... Kian? Did the call freeze or are you just processing really, really hard right now?"

Still no answer. She laughed nervously. "Okay, I'm gonna assume you're not frozen, but if you are, this is the creepiest freeze frame I've ever seen."

Finally, he blinked—slowly, like he was waking up from a trance. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. And all he could manage was a quiet, stunned, "You had a crush on me?"

Kami let out a quiet laugh, but there was something shy in it. She tucked her legs underneath her and shrugged. "For a few months, yeah. Why wouldn't I? You're a great guy."

He blinked again, like he needed a second to catch up to the timeline that could've been. A part of him wanted to say why didn't you tell me?—but what good would it do now?

His throat felt dry. He tried to speak, but nothing came out.

Kami glanced at him again, and maybe she noticed something shift in his expression, because her smile softened. Like she could feel the conflict he wasn't saying out loud.

Then came the voice off-camera—Seonghwa. "Hey, Kami—Noa and I are making something. You wanna eat with us?"

She turned her head toward the sound and nodded, then looked back at the screen. "I should go. But..." She paused for a second, her voice gentler now. "Thank you. For telling me. That couldn't have been easy."

He gave a stiff little laugh. "Yeah. No, it really wasn't."

She looked at him for a moment longer, almost like she wanted to say more, but couldn't quite find the words. So instead, she smiled again. "You're going to be okay, Kian. Even if it doesn't feel like it right now."

From somewhere in the background, the others shouted: "Bye, Kian!" Kami laughed under her breath and waved. "They're all saying goodbye. I'll call you soon, yeah?"

He gave a small nod. "Yeah. Soon." Then the call disconnected. And just like that, she was gone.

Kian stayed where he was, eyes still on the black screen. The silence felt heavier now—not suffocating, just... full. Full of the things he didn't say. The things he wished he said sooner.

He leaned back against his headboard, exhaling slowly. His chest ached in that familiar way again—quiet and unspoken. But this time, it wasn't all hurt. It was something else, too. Something like release.

Maybe it could've been something, if he'd spoken up earlier. Before she had a boyfriend. Before she became his best friend. Before he convinced himself he didn't feel anything at all. But now... now he knew better.

He still loved her. Not the way he used to—not with the hope of something more. But with the kind of love that lingers when someone helped you feel human again. When someone reminded you that you were worth something. That you were loved, even if it didn't look the way you thought it would.

And maybe that was enough. At least for now. He pulled the blanket up over his chest and stared at the ceiling.

He was healing. Slowly. Messily. But healing.

And tonight was proof of that.