Jimin stared at his phone, the glow of the screen lighting up his face in the dimly lit room. The messages had stopped long ago, yet he couldn't bring himself to delete them. His finger hovered over the chat, where Jungkook's name still stood at the top, but no new messages had appeared in weeks. They used to talk all the time—day and night, laughing, sharing stories, secrets, and dreams. Now, it was radio silence.
“We don’t talk anymore,” Jimin whispered to himself, the lyrics of a song that used to feel distant now painfully relevant.
Jimin sighed, tossing the phone onto the bed and running his hand through his hair. It had been months since they had broken up, and yet every corner of his apartment, every object, every place in town still reminded him of Jungkook. It wasn't that they had ended things dramatically, with shouting or cruel words. It had been quiet—too quiet. A slow drifting apart that neither of them could stop. And when it finally ended, it was as if a part of Jimin's world had vanished.
He missed Jungkook. Desperately.
He missed the late-night conversations that lasted until the sun started to rise, the spontaneous decisions to go on road trips, the way Jungkook used to make him laugh when nothing seemed funny. He missed the warmth of his embrace, the feeling of safety that came from being with someone who knew you inside and out. But most of all, he missed the sound of Jungkook’s voice—soft, comforting, and always there when Jimin needed it most.
But that voice was gone now. They didn’t talk anymore.
Jimin sat on the edge of his bed, staring out the window. He knew it was pointless to linger on what could have been. Jungkook had moved on. Everyone around him had heard the rumors—Jungkook had found someone new. A boy, good looking boy. He was beautiful, kind, and smart. Everything Jimin wasn’t.
“I just heard you found the one you’ve been looking for,” Jimin thought, the words cutting deeper than he expected. He could still hear the laughter of their friends, the casual mention of Jungkook’s new love interest as if it didn’t feel like a knife twisting in his chest. I wish I would have known that wasn’t me. He had thought they were forever.
It was hard not to wonder. Not to think about what had gone wrong. Why had Jungkook moved on so easily, while Jimin was still stuck in the same place, replaying old memories in his head?
His mind wandered back to the night of their breakup. The quiet acceptance in Jungkook’s eyes, the way his voice had trembled when he said, “Maybe we just aren’t meant to be anymore.” Jimin had felt like his heart was being torn apart, but he hadn’t fought it. He had just let him go. Now, months later, Jimin still questioned why he hadn't said something, done something to stop it.
“Don’t wanna know what kind of dress you’re wearing tonight,” he muttered, his thoughts filled with unwanted images of Jungkook out with his new partner, laughing and holding hands, sharing moments that used to belong to them. He wondered if Jungkook thought about him at all—whether he missed him, even just a little.
Jimin clenched his fists. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that Jungkook could move on, love someone else, and leave Jimin behind with the wreckage of their relationship.
He picked up his phone again, scrolling through old photos. There was one from a sunny afternoon at the beach. Jimin had sand in his hair, and Jungkook’s arm was wrapped tightly around him, both of them laughing at something neither could remember now. Those days had felt perfect—like nothing could touch them. They were invincible back then, or so Jimin had thought.
“I overdosed,” Jimin whispered, thinking about how deeply he had fallen for Jungkook. He had been all in, pouring his heart and soul into the relationship, believing that Jungkook was his forever. But love had turned out to be more fragile than he had expected, slipping through his fingers like sand. He should’ve known better. Should’ve realized that love was a game, and sometimes, you lost.
