Angst is not my cup of tea... Anyways we got some angst in here... enjoy;( 🐯
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Haechan is your ex-boyfriend; he is very popular in college because he made a band with his friends.
One day, very late at night, you were studying for an upcoming exam when he knocked on your apartment door. In a state of chaos, to make it even better he was also drunk.
"Hey, open the door, please..."
Haechan is looking for company.
He is not sober, and he needs someone to take care of him.
When you open the door, you see him looking quite pitiful. His eyes are bloodshot, his breath smells of alcohol, and his shirt is unbuttoned.
"What are you doing here?"
"I just wanted to see you."
He is barely able to stand up straight, and he leans on you to hold himself up.
As he sways back and forth, trying to keep his balance, his eyes meet yours, and he smiles gently. "But... I wanted to ask you..."
"Are you drunk?" you interrupted him.
"Yeah, maybe a little, just a little..."
He chuckles softly, leaning on you more, as if you were his only hope to stay on his feet.
"You're so annoying," you sigh, letting him in.
As you let him inside, he leans heavily against you as you walk him to the couch.
"Thank you..."
He lays down on the couch and glances at you with a smile. He sighs softly, then turns to the side. His hair drapes over his face, hiding his eyes completely.
You can tell he's struggling to remain conscious. His breathing is slow, and his eyelids flutter a little.
But this isn't an ordinary drunken situation; he didn't just get too much to drink.
This seems like he's drinking to run away from something—something he can't face.
"Why did you get drunk?" You ask him getting up to grab him some water.
He sighs deeply, a sigh that sounds like pain. His lips tremble slightly, as if he's restraining himself from crying.
"It's a long story. Do you really want to know?"
"Go ahead"
He sighs again, trying to make sense of things in his head.
"Alright... I'm just so sick of all the pressure.
My fans, my friends, everyone expects so much from me. And I'm just so exhausted, I can't handle it anymore. I'm not good enough, and..." He stops himself, biting his lip to keep from crying.
He closes his eyes and shakes his head, trying to hold himself together.
"I'm just so tired of everything, and I can't keep pretending everything is alright. I just... I just want to be held, you know? I want to be taken care of once instead of always having to be strong for everyone else. And..."
He breaks down, his breath catching in his throat and tears welling up in his eyes.
You watch the guy you once loved become so fragile and all messed up.
You felt bad for him; you sat closer to him and hugged him. He buries his face into your chest, his sobs audible.
"I'm sorry... I didn't want to cry. I wanted to look strong, but..." He trails off, his voice cracking.
He is completely broken, and you can feel the grief and pain he carries within him, like a heaviness he can't shake off.
You are startled by how vulnerable he is right now. He is known to be the cool and handsome lead singer of the biggest college band, yet in this moment he is no different than a child.
He looks up at you, searching for any hint of judgment. His tears wet your shirt, but he doesn't care. All he needs now is some comfort.
"It's okay," you whisper, patting his back.
Your voice soothes him, and he presses his body closer to you. His heart beats rapidly as he leans against your chest, soaking your shirt with tears. He's so vulnerable right now; he just needs someone to listen.
He wasn't like this before.
You warned him about being in a band.
But he ignored everything.
"I warned you," you say.
"Yeah, I'm sorry I wasn't." His voice cracks softly as he speaks.
"I should've listened... It's all my fault."
He trails off again, trying to make sense of his own emotions.
He feels very self-conscious now, and it's not just the alcohol; his feelings of inadequacy run deeper than most people think. He isn't the confident and cool man he makes himself out to be; he is riddled with insecurities that keep him up at night.
He glances back up at you, but he doesn't make eye contact just yet.
"All the fame, the pressure... I dunno, but I just feel so inadequate, like I can't live up to my own expectations."
You look at him crying and feeling bad; he wasn't like this when you two were together.
He was always happy; you loved him, and he loved you.
It just hurt how your perfect relationship ended.
He closes his eyes for a moment, breathing in deeply and trying to steady his shaky breath. He remains still for a while, then he shifts to lay his head on your shoulder. The feeling of you beside him is comforting, and he sighs softly, not needing to keep up a brave facade for now.
"You can stay for tonight, but just here... Sleep on the couch.
He nods slightly, then rests his head comfortably on your shoulder.
He is completely relaxed now, and his breathing slows. Maybe it's the alcohol, but he's feeling quite tired now. It's only a matter of time before he knocks out.
"Have fun with your hangover tomorrow," you whispered before leaving to go to your own room.
He is too tipsy to notice your sarcasm, and he simply smiles softly at your response.
His eyelids fall heavier and heavier with each passing second, and his breathing grows slow and steady.
He is completely knocked out now. His breath is shallow, but his body is relaxed. There is no more pretending or hiding the pain. He is completely vulnerable now—just a man in trouble, in need of a break. Perhaps you were the first person to really see him this way.
Next morning
Haechan wakes up with a severe headache and a very sore body. He groggily tries to sit up and looks around, realizing he's not in his own bed.
"Ughhh..."
He can remember drinking a lot the night before, but he can't recall how he got here exactly. He remembers knocking on your door and you letting him in, but that's about it.
"Morning," you smile, walking into the living room where he was.
He blinks a couple of times, trying to adjust to the light. His eyes hurt, and his head pounds.
"Mmm... morning... ughhh..."
"I made breakfast. Go eat and leave my dorm."
His stomach grumbles, and he remembers that he hasn't eaten in quite some time.
The idea of food is quite tempting after such a long period of drinking.
"Yeah, okay..."
He pushes himself up and makes his way over to the kitchen. He glances back at you with a smile, trying to appear at least slightly presentable.
He grabs a plate, fills it up with eggs and bacon, and grabs a seat by the table. After taking a few bites, he looks at you, noticing that you're sitting alone on the couch, staring into space.
"Are you not eating?"
"Not yet"
He nods, swallowing a bite of egg.
Your tone is a little different today, more reserved. He gets the impression that you're not as friendly as you were last night.
He was still your ex after all.
He pauses, sensing the shift in your aura.
"Are you okay? Are you sure you don't want to eat?"
"I'll eat when you leave."
He raised an eyebrow at your response. Your tone is so cold today. What is going on?
"Why do you want me to leave? You don't like me or something?"
"Just eat and leave."
He lowers his gaze, feeling a little hurt by your response. But your tone didn't leave room for argument, and he goes back to eating silently.
It's very different compared to last night, when you were so nice and welcoming. He doesn't know what changed, but he can sense that you're obviously still angry with him. He eats his breakfast quickly, not wanting to stick around any longer. Once he's done, he sets his plate down and clears his throat.
He looks over at you, but you don't meet his gaze. Your attitude is the opposite of last night. He feels unwanted now, and it does sting a little. He sighs and gets up from the table.
"See you around," you coldly say.
He glances over at you again, feeling a little hurt that you won't even look at him.
"Yeah, I guess. Bye."
He grabs his coat and heads towards the door. He feels rather embarrassed about the whole situation and also confused by how quickly things changed.
Last night, you were so kind to him—you even let him stay here.
He pauses at the door, then stops, debating if he should say something else. But your cold attitude and aloofness are clear signs that you don't really want him here, so he just leaves you alone and walks out.
Once he's outside, he takes a deep breath, trying to clear his mind. He sighs, disappointed in the way things turned out today and with himself for making such a mess of everything. Maybe he should have been stronger and not let himself get drunk and vulnerable in front of you. Oh well. He makes a mental note to never show up here again.
You walk to the door and close it, making sure it's locked. Once you felt his presence gone, you broke into tears.
Why did we have to break up?
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This is so bad help.
