𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐬 - 𝘚. 𝘑𝘢𝘦𝘺𝘶𝘯

The Morning After

Jake couldn't even blame it on the alcohol because the second he saw her, standing there like the air had been knocked out of her lungs, he sobered up completely.

Everything stilled.

The music, the rooftop, the warmth of Soojin's mouth still on his - it all faded, like someone had yanked the color out of the world.

And then there was Yeri.

Her eyes weren't angry. That somehow made it worse. They were just... quiet. Hurt in a way that didn't scream—it shattered.

His breath caught. "Yeri-"

But she was already backing away, the words he should've said dying in his throat.

Soojin's hand lingered on his chest, but he stepped away like it made him sick. "What was that?"

"You kissed me," she said, a little too softly. Like she thought they could go back from this.

Jake's jaw clenched. "Yeah, and it meant nothing."

She flinched. He didn't care.

Because he'd just watched Yeri break in front of him, and he did that.

He dragged a hand through his hair, pacing like the guilt was something he could physically outrun. But no matter how many steps he took, he couldn't go back to two minutes ago before he made the dumbest decision of his life.

And the worst part?

He didn't even want Soojin. He just didn't want to feel like Yeri had chosen someone else.

Now he didn't just lose her.

He hurt her.

And she had no idea she was the only person that ever made him feel like he wasn't completely lost.

___

The morning sun spilled over Jeju Island like nothing had happened, like it hadn't witnessed the heartbreak, the confusion, or the betrayal that bloomed beneath the moonlight just hours before.

But Yeri felt it. In her chest. In the way her body moved slower than usual, like her heart had been wrapped in cement overnight.

She didn't sleep. Not really. Maybe a few restless minutes, but mostly she stared at the ceiling, blinking back tears she refused to shed. Ningning had asked questions when she finally stumbled in at almost two in the morning, makeup smudged, eyes glassy, silence screaming louder than words ever could. But Yeri had only whispered, "I'm fine," and buried herself under the covers.

Now, seated in the breakfast hall with a barely touched plate in front of her, Yeri picked at her food as the others chattered excitedly about the beach bonfire and rooftop party. It was like they'd all had a different trip.

She was in her own bubble, watching everyone through glass.

Ningning sat beside her, worried eyes flicking from Yeri to the other side of the room—where Jake sat with Heeseung and Niki, silent, tense, barely touching the food on his tray. His eyes, though... they never strayed far from her.

Yeri refused to look.

Jake felt sick. Every movement from her, every glance she refused to give him, was like a punch to the ribs. He wanted to walk over, to explain, to beg. But his legs were frozen. His voice useless. Soojin sat a table next to him, too composed. And the only thing worse than the silence was knowing he'd put himself here.

He'd kissed Soojin. Not out of love. Not even out of want. Out of hurt. Out of heartbreak.

He had kissed her, and Yeri had seen.

And now she was slipping through his fingers like sand, like water, like every damn thing he never deserved to hold in the first place.

___

The bus ride to the airport was a blur.

Yeri boarded quietly, slipping into a window seat again, back hunched as she hugged her backpack close. Ningning slid beside her, throwing a protective glance over her shoulder.

Jake sat a few rows down. Diagonal. Just close enough to see her profile, the slope of her nose, the way she chewed on her lower lip when she was overthinking. He knew every detail by now, had memorized them like verses in a favorite song.

But now, he couldn't even hum the tune without it hurting.

The bus bumped down the road, tires humming against asphalt, but the silence between them screamed louder than the engine. Ningning tried to distract her with a half hearted rant about the airport food being trash and how Niki snored like a malfunctioning blender, but Yeri only nodded, her responses delayed, muted.

Jake closed his eyes and leaned back against the seat, replaying the rooftop moment like a curse.

He should've waited. He should've stopped.
He should've said something before the silence between them became permanent.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Korean Air welcomes you to Incheon The local time is 14:03. For your safety and the safety of those around you, please remain seated with your seat belt fastened and keep the aisles
clear until we are parked at the gate.

The airport in Seoul was colder than Jeju. Figuratively. Literally. Emotionally.

Everyone scattered to find their luggage, reuniting with chaperones and dragging their tired bodies toward waiting vans and taxis.

Yeri's mom waved from a distance. But she didn't walk toward her right away.

Jake found her in the crowd, tried once more.

"Yeri."

She paused. Slowly turned. Her expression wasn't angry; it was worse. It was blank. The kind of look people give when they've finally learned how to feel nothing at all.

"I didn't mean for-"

"Don't," she whispered. Soft. Final.

Jake's jaw clenched. His eyes dropped to the floor, then flicked to her again. She wasn't crying. She wasn't yelling.

She was just... done.

Soojin passed behind him, chatting on her phone like she hadn't lit a match and watched them burn.

Ningning walked beside Yeri like a bodyguard, throwing one last glare over her shoulder before they disappeared into the crowd.

Jake stood still as people moved around him, luggage wheels dragging across tile, announcements echoing across the ceiling. And somehow, it all sounded like g:oodbye.

___

Later That Night

Jake sat on the edge of his bed, phone in hand, staring at the empty message box.

The last thing he sent was: 

My Pianist

"Can we talk?"
Delivered.

He started typing again. 
"I'm sorry"
"Im sor|"
Deleted.

"I didn't want it to be her."
"I didn't want it t|"
Deleted. 

"I didn't know what I was doing."
"I didn't know w|."
Deleted.

He threw the phone onto the bed, running a hand through his hair like it could shake the guilt off.

She had looked right at him. No anger. No accusation. Just the weight of everything unsaid.

He lay back against the pillows, eyes on the ceiling.

He had fallen for the pianist. And now she wouldn't even look at him.

And the worst part?

He didn't blame her.