Off limit President || Yungi

- twenty -

Yunho || Mingi 

For the next two days, Mingi came to my window every night, like clockwork. Each evening, I'd hear the soft, repetitive knocks against the glass, a sound that now brought a strange mix of anticipation and anxiety. 

I would open the window slightly, just enough to see him standing there, his face illuminated by the moonlight.

"Go away, Mingi," I'd say, my voice tinged with exhaustion and frustration. But he never listened. He always came with something—a small gift, a flower, a piece of chocolate. 

He would hand them to me through the window, his eyes full of earnestness and regret.

"I'm not leaving, Yunho," he would say softly. "Not until you understand how sorry I am, how much I care about you."

Every night, he held my hand, lifting it to his lips to place a gentle kiss on my knuckles. The first time he did it, I had jerked my hand back, but now I let him. 

His touch was a confusing comfort, a reminder of better times tainted by the memory of pain.

As Mingi spoke, pouring out his heart, I would lean against the window frame, looking up at the moon. The soft night breeze would move through my hair, a soothing contrast to the turmoil inside me. 

I stayed silent, letting his words wash over me. He talked about everything—his trip here, his regrets, his hopes. 

He described the two-hour train journey he took every night and morning just to see me, since there were no hotels in the village.

"I'm willing to do whatever it takes," he would say. "Even if it means traveling back and forth every day. I want to prove to you that I've changed."

The idea that Mingi was making such an effort, enduring a grueling commute just to stand outside my window, left me bewildered. 

Why would he do that if he didn't truly care? The thought gnawed at me, conflicting with the pain and betrayal I still felt.

Mingi's nightly visits became a strange routine. He'd arrive, knock on the window, and pour out his heart, while I listened in silence, my eyes fixed on the moon. 

The quiet nights, the soft breeze, and Mingi's persistent presence began to create a confusing mixture of emotions within me. 

Part of me wanted to believe him, to find comfort in his words. But the scars he left behind were still too fresh, too raw.

On the third night, as he held my hand and kissed it once more, I finally spoke, my voice barely above a whisper. "Why are you doing this, Mingi?"

He looked up at me, his eyes filled with a desperate sincerity. "Because I love you, Yunho. And I'm sorry for everything. I'm willing to do anything to make it right."

I didn't respond, just closed my eyes and let the breeze carry away my unspoken thoughts. The journey to forgiveness was long and uncertain, but Mingi's presence, his persistence, began to plant a seed of doubt in my heart. 

Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for healing. 

He looked up at me, his eyes filled with a desperate sincerity. "Because I love you, Yunho. And I'm sorry for everything. I'm willing to do anything to make it right."

I sighed, feeling the weight of his words press down on me. "Just go home, Mingi," I said, closing the window. "Leave for the night."

As I started to close the window, Mingi reached out and held my hand once more. He smiled softly, a glimmer of hope in his eyes, and left a longer, lingering kiss on the top of my hand.