the relationship [sequel]

hello again

I couldn't listen to the song more than the first time I played it. It felt like someone was ripping out my heart and tearing it with their bare hands. It made him feel so much more real in my head; he was no longer in some far away land but he was in my ears. In my head. In my thoughts.

And then he was back in Seoul. The tour was closing before I realised, and the prospect of sharing the same air as him was terrifying. And electrifying. While he had been gone, I had been doing a lot of growing. A lot of maturing as well. I had learned the extent of the consequences of my actions. I had learnt that my own anguish wasn't an excuse to hurt those around me.

After swearing that I would never seen Namjoon again, I felt a change inside me. It wasn't a yearning for him, but it was like my soul was calling out to him. I just wanted to speak with him. I couldn't tell if this was the mature thing to do or something that would destroy me completely. And so when I received a fateful text from Jimin, saying he was acting as Namjoon's messenger (seeing as I had blocked him) with the proposition of a conversation, I knew inside what I had to do. It wasn't a conversation about getting back together, but just a conversation.

That was how I found myself anxiously biting my nails in an elevator being hurtled at an alarming rate back to an apartment I knew too well. I was going back to the dorm.

I had no idea what to expect. I had no idea how I would react in such a situation. The past few months I had been solely focused on pushing any thought of Namjoon out of my head, and now I was actively pushing myself back into this world. But unlike how I had originally imagined, it didn't feel like the wrong decision. In fact, it felt like perfect timing.

The door was opened seconds after I rang it, and time stopped all together. Because there he was. His hair was now darker, the bags under his eyes more prominent, but his smile was still the same. We didn't hug as I entered the eerily silent apartment, and I found myself being directed towards a kitchen island where two coffees were already laid out.

We spoke about small things at first. I asked politely about the tour and his work, and he returned the questions. It was like we were casual acquaintances who didn't want to know too much about each other's lives. Who wanted to keep a comfortable distance. But there was something unspoken that lingered over us as we spoke. Something that couldn't be ignored.

"I just wanted to say-"

"If you're going to say sorry, please don't," I whispered to him, "I'm sick of that word. It means nothing to me anymore. I'm sick of apologies."

"But without facing our problems - without engaging with them and forgiving each other - how can we ever move forward?"

I sighed, feeling my stomach churn as we approached a conversation I wasn't sure I was ready to have. But I took a deep breath and reminded myself that sometimes the most uncomfortable conversations to have are the ones that are needed most.

"I forgave you on the plane ride home if there was ever anything to forgive. It wasn't you that tore us apart. It wasn't me. It was the environment we were surrounded in," I said softly, forcing myself to look in his eyes so that he could see my sincerity.

"No, it wasn't just that. We were part of the problem too. I forced you into a relationship too quickly - ridiculously too quickly - and it drove us apart. And therefore I have a proposition for you," there was a shared chuckle between us at his words, both of us remembering what his first ever proposition had sounded like.

"And what would that be?" I replied, hating the way I was already feeling so comfortable around him.

"I want to ask you if you would like to go on a date with me. Not to pretend like the past hasn't occurred because it will undoubtedly shape us, and pretending it wouldn't was our fateful flaw last time. Not to take off where we left off. But I want one date with you so that for once we can pretend like we're just two people dating. Seeing where things go," he looked hopeful as he sat across from me, I found that my fingers were twitching nervously without me realising.

Everything he said sounded so perfect and so ghastly at the same time. But the matureness in  his voice swayed my mind. He sounded like a man who had thought long and hard about his decision before making it this time. I was sick of the constant fluctuations of his feelings and so to see this consistency - this dependability - in him made my heart flutter a little.

"One date," I said in a voice barely above a whisper and he broke out into a smile.

We parted on good terms, but still didn't hug. Or kiss. Or do anything that would overstep the invisible boundaries we had already made for each other. I liked the slowness of our pace, and I enjoyed the fact that he was able to acknowledge and pinpoint every stage where we had gone wrong.

We were finally being adults about this. Lovesick teenagers only go far in relationships, and I was tired of playing the part of an angsty girl who would only get her heart broken by giving too much or not enough. I wanted Namjoon not for my romantic fantasies but for watching movies with. For talking about everything from chocolate bars to the universe. I wanted him for the long run.

There was something between us which could never be ignored. Something that transcended the label of 'chemistry' all together. And I was willing to put my heart on my sleeve one more time if it meant finally securing the love I knew we deserved.

-

both have grown, both have learnt. will this finally be the solution to their problems?

please vote and comment if you enjoyed 💜