The apartment was quiet, save for the occasional creak of the floorboards as Jimin moved through the living room. The silence felt heavy, oppressive. It wasn’t the kind of quiet that brought peace—it was the kind that screamed of things unsaid, of emotions left to fester in the shadows.
Jimin stood by the window, staring out at the rain that painted streaks against the glass. Her hands trembled as she clutched the edge of the windowsill, the weight of the world pressing down on her chest. She heard the door to the bedroom creak open behind her but didn’t turn around.
“Jimin…” Minjeong’s voice was soft, tentative. It carried the kind of exhaustion that didn’t come from lack of sleep but from the weight of too many arguments, too many nights spent crying instead of talking.
Jimin closed her eyes, the sound of Minjeong’s voice slicing through her like a blade. She wanted to turn around, to pull Minjeong into her arms, but she knew that doing so would only delay the inevitable.
“We can’t keep doing this,” Jimin said finally, her voice low and raw. She forced herself to look out at the rain instead of facing Minjeong. “It’s killing us, Minjeong.”
Minjeong stepped closer, her bare feet padding softly against the wooden floor. “I know,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “But I don’t know how to stop.”
Jimin turned around then, her dark eyes meeting Minjeong’s. The sight of her—hair slightly mussed, her face pale and etched with worry—made Jimin’s heart ache. She’d fallen in love with Minjeong’s brightness, her ability to find joy even in the darkest moments. But lately, that brightness had been dimmed, buried under the weight of their crumbling relationship.
“We’re tearing each other apart,” Jimin said, her voice cracking. “Every fight, every silence… it’s like we’re chipping away at what we used to be.”
Minjeong’s lips trembled as she spoke, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I don’t want to lose you, Jimin. You’re everything to me.”
Jimin took a shaky breath, her hands curling into fists at her sides. “And you’re everything to me, Minjeong. But love isn’t supposed to feel like this. It’s not supposed to hurt this much.”
---
The fights had started small, over things that didn’t matter—forgotten dates, misplaced items, moments of miscommunication. But over time, the cracks in their relationship widened, and those small arguments turned into explosive fights that left both of them raw and bleeding.
“I feel like I’m walking on eggshells around you,” Minjeong had said during one of their fights, her voice rising with frustration. “Like no matter what I do, it’s never enough for you.”
“And I feel like you don’t see me anymore,” Jimin had shot back, her hands gesturing wildly. “Like I’m just… there. Like I don’t matter.”
The words had hung between them, heavy and suffocating, until Minjeong had stormed out of the apartment, leaving Jimin alone with her anger and regret.
---
Now, standing in the living room with Minjeong so close and yet so far away, Jimin felt like they were standing on the edge of a cliff, staring into the abyss of their future.
“Maybe…” Jimin hesitated, the words catching in her throat. “Maybe we’re not meant to be, Minjeong.”
The room seemed to freeze, the air growing thick with tension. Minjeong’s eyes widened, her lips parting as if to protest, but no words came out.
“Don’t say that,” she whispered finally, her voice trembling. “Don’t you dare say that.”
Jimin ran a hand through her hair, her frustration and sorrow threatening to spill over. “What else am I supposed to say? That we can keep pretending everything’s fine when it’s not? That we can keep hurting each other like this?”
“I don’t care if it hurts,” Minjeong said, her voice rising. “I’d rather hurt with you than be without you.”
Jimin shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “That’s not love, Minjeong. That’s desperation. And it’s not fair to either of us.”
Minjeong took a step forward, her hands reaching out to grasp Jimin’s. “Please,” she begged, her voice breaking. “Please don’t give up on us. We can fix this. I know we can.”
Jimin looked down at their intertwined hands, her heart breaking at the sight. She wanted to believe Minjeong, wanted to hold onto the hope that they could somehow find their way back to each other. But deep down, she knew the truth.
“I love you,” Jimin said softly, her voice filled with sorrow. “I love you so much that it hurts. But sometimes… love isn’t enough.”
---
That night, Jimin packed a bag and left the apartment. Minjeong stood by the doorway, her arms wrapped around herself as she watched Jimin walk away. She didn’t cry, not until the door closed behind her, and she was left alone in the silence.
Jimin didn’t go far. She found a small motel on the outskirts of the city and checked in, her chest heavy with grief. She lay on the unfamiliar bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment of their relationship in her mind. The laughter, the kisses, the whispered promises—all of it felt like a distant dream now, something she could never get back.
---
Days turned into weeks, and the distance between them grew. Minjeong threw herself into her work, trying to fill the void left by Jimin’s absence. But no matter how busy she kept herself, she couldn’t escape the ache in her chest, the constant reminder of what she’d lost.
Jimin, too, struggled with the emptiness. She traveled aimlessly, visiting places she’d always wanted to see, but nothing felt right. Every sunset, every beautiful moment only reminded her of Minjeong and the life they’d shared.
---
One rainy evening, months after their breakup, Jimin found herself back in Seoul. She walked through the city streets, her heart heavy as memories of Minjeong flooded her mind. Without thinking, her feet carried her to the apartment they’d once shared.
She stood outside the building, staring up at the window that had once been theirs. She knew she shouldn’t be there, knew she should turn around and leave. But before she could, the door opened, and Minjeong stepped outside.
Their eyes met, and for a moment, neither of them moved. The rain fell around them, soaking their clothes and blurring their vision, but neither of them cared.
“Jimin,” Minjeong said finally, her voice barely audible over the rain.
Jimin took a step forward, her heart pounding in her chest. “Minjeong, I—”
“Don’t,” Minjeong interrupted, her voice filled with pain. “Don’t say anything unless it’s to tell me you’re staying.”
Jimin froze, her breath catching in her throat. She wanted to say yes, to tell Minjeong that she was staying, that she’d never leave again. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t make promises she wasn’t sure she could keep.
“I’m sorry,” Jimin said, her voice breaking. “I’m so sorry.”
Minjeong’s tears mixed with the rain as she nodded, her heart shattering all over again. She turned and walked away, leaving Jimin standing in the rain, alone with her regret.
And as Jimin watched her disappear into the night, she realized that sometimes, no matter how much you love someone, it’s not enough to keep them. Some love stories aren’t meant to last—they’re meant to teach you, to change you, and then to let you go.
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WINRINA ONESHOTS
FanfictionThey'll be a lot of kinds oneshots of Winter and Karina. Hope you enjoy each one of them.
