ᴀɴᴛɪ-ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴛɪᴄ💕 | sᴇᴜɴɢsᴜɴɢ

13. PTUI PTUI PTUI

"Seungmin. Open the door."

I leaned my forehead against it like I was the star of a tragic music video. Rain should've been falling. A piano should've been playing in the distance. Maybe a single dove should've flown by in slow motion.

"No," I croaked, muffled through the wood. "I'm ugly crying and smell like betrayal and vanilla fudge ripple."

"I brought food."

"...What kind of food?"

"Your favorite."

"Is it the spicy tteokbokki from the place that gives me stomach cramps but emotional closure?"

"...Yes."

I hesitated. My soul said no. My stomach said we ball.

I slowly opened the door like a medieval peasant accepting a peace offering from the king, and there stood Jisung, messy hair, puffed-up eyes, holding a plastic bag like it was a truce flag.

We stared at each other for a moment. Just...stared.

"You look like a raccoon who lost custody of his kids," he said gently.

"You look like you lost a dance battle to your own emotions," I replied, voice shaky but proud.

We stood there awkwardly for a second longer before I stepped aside to let him in. He handed me the food like it was sacred, and I took it like Gollum getting the One Ring.

We sat on the couch in silence, eating aggressively. Like, aggressive chewing. Emotional chewing. The kind where neither of us wanted to admit we were one sigh away from a full sob.

Halfway through our meal, I looked at him, cheeks full of spicy rice cake and trauma.

"I'm sorry I didn't go on the date," I mumbled, sauce all over my face. "It's not you. It's just—"

"You're a repressed disaster of a human being with a heart shaped like a panic button?" he offered, deadpan.

I blinked.

"...Yes. That's exactly it."

Jisung gave me a sad smile. Then he reached over and wiped sauce off my nose with the sleeve of his hoodie like I was a clumsy toddler.

"You're a mess, Kim Seungmin."

"So are you, Han Jisung."

"Yeah, but my mess is aesthetic."

We laughed. It was short, broken, kind of wet from all the crying, but it was real.

"Do you still want to go on the date?" I asked, voice small.

He paused.

"Do you still want to try?"

I nodded. "I can't promise I'll be good at it. But I can promise I'll try. Like, really try. Even if I keep sabotaging myself by accident."

He looked at me like I'd just handed him my entire spleen and said "do with this what you will." But he smiled anyway.

"Okay, Min. Let's give it a shot. And if you panic and hide in a closet again, I'm dragging you out by your onesie tail."

"Fair."

Then we hugged. Right there on the couch. Puppy onesie and all. Ice cream stains and all. And for the first time in a while, my heart didn't feel like the enemy.

It just felt...