Love , Again ?? || RM

Part 62 - Heartbeats and Half-Meant Confessions

Y/N's POV

I reached the Seventeen dorm with a heartbeat louder than the engine of my car. My hands were shaking, eyes stinging from tears that had dried and returned again like waves. I stood in front of the door and called Scoups.

The moment he opened it, a flicker of something soft crossed his face—a smile. Not a happy one, but more like a sigh of relief. Like he had been waiting, hoping I would come. He didn't ask anything. Didn't say anything. He just gently pointed down the hallway toward Hannie's room.

I nodded, unable to even thank him with words. My throat was too tight. I walked to his room—each step heavier, each breath tighter. I didn't knock. I couldn't. I just turned the knob and stepped inside.And there he was.

My heartbeat

Sitting on the edge of his bed, suitcase open beside him, head bowed low, hands over his face like he was hiding from the world. Like everything had broken and he didn't know how to fix it.And when he heard the door creak open, he looked up slowly—his eyes red, glassy, like he had cried more than he ever would admit.

His voice cracked as he whispered, "Heartpiece?"

God. His eyes.I walked toward him without a word. And he didn't wait. He wrapped his arms around my waist from where he sat, hiding his face in my stomach like a kid needing comfort. And I held him. Tight. My hands in his hair, my chin resting on the top of his head as he trembled slightly in my arms. Neither of us could hold back anymore.

He was saying, "I'm sorry, I can't lose you..."

And I was whispering, "I'm sorry too... I thought I ruined everything..."

We were both crying. No walls, no jokes, no filters—just pain and love, messily tangled in apologies and fear. I sat beside him, our hands still clasped tightly like we were holding each other together. The storm between us had just started to calm, but my heart was still pounding like it was trapped in a cage too small.

I turned to him slowly, brushing my thumb across his cheek to wipe away the remnants of his tears. He looked exhausted. Shattered. But still... there was this warmth in his eyes that hadn't left. He gently pulled me closer to sit properly next to him, and I did. Our knees touched, and I held his hand again—like I always did when words were too much and comfort was too little. But this time, I had to ask. I took a shaky breath.