╰┈➤ ❝ [  And I can still see it all (In my head) ] ❞

FROM A VERY YOUNG AGE, LEE SU-HO learned that growing attached to something inevitably meant saying goodbye. Attachment is a universal experience, whether to an object, a person, or a memory. It happens at any age, unavoidable and unyielding. The first time Lee Su-ho experienced that pain was when he was around five years old. He had a small beta fish named Blue, its name inspired by the sapphire scales covering its body. He loved that fish a lot. If it wasn't for his parents, he would've taken Blue everywhere.

Despite being alone in its fish tank, Blue was remarkably energetic. Blue's sapphire scales shimmered under the waters, its fins gliding with effortless grace. During feeding time, Blue darted through the water, chasing the small beads of food as they sank. Blue was Su-ho's friend, and while Blue swam Su-ho told him about his day. Blue was the first thing Su-ho looked at when he went to sleep, and the first when he woke up.

One particular morning, when Su-ho went to feed Blue, the five-year-old noticed the fish didn't seem quite as happy as he usually did. Blue didn't move fast, instead he swam slow and steady. The days passed, and Blue started to barely acknowledge his food, eating one or two beads before hiding behind the colorful plants.

His sapphire scales slowly began to lose its shine, small white spots taking over his whole body, and Su-ho couldn't understand why. His mind too young to know the signs. When he asked his parents, they reassured him telling him Blue would be okay. The water inside the fish tank was replaced and some liquids Su-ho couldn't name were poured into the water. Blue stayed okay, but he didn't get better. And a few days later, when Su-ho went to feed him, his small body was at the bottom laying on top of the white rocks. Again, Su-ho didn't know what it meant, but he knew it couldn't be good, so he cried out for his parents.

When Su-ho found out Blue was gone, he didn't understand the situation. He fought and cried when Blue's fish tank was emptied. The five-year-old still believing his fish would come back. It wasn't until the next day when he finally accepted that his parent's words were correct. Still, he cried a lot because his friend was gone. He had grown attached, and it was too late for the detaching process to not be painful. But he was young, and it wasn't long before the painful memory subsided and he was able to have another pet without comparing it to Blue.

Two years later, Su-ho was forced to go through the same thing, except this time it wasn't his pet. It was his mother. She was the  person who gave him life, sang him to sleep, formed cute animals out of his meals, and loved him unconditionally. Just as he had watched Blue lose its energy and vitality, he saw the same decline in his mother. He saw how tired she got after the most minimal task, he saw how she had to stop eating her favorite foods, and he had to witness how her once beautiful black hair began to fall as a result of cancer.

He had to watch his mother die, the same way he watched Blue. Only it was far worse because his attachment towards his mother ran much deeper than his attachment towards Blue. It was the unbreakable bond between a mother and son——one that could never be replaced. When Su-ho lost Se-yeon, another part of him was lost. The part that was attached to him, getting buried along with the casket. And after Se-yeon, Seo-jun was also pulled away from him.

Perhaps, this was why it was so hard for Su-ho to willingly move on after that night. He was far too attached to Kim Ji-an. She was a part of him, and losing her felt like losing the remaining part of himself. The good part. Life never gave him the opportunity to choose when to detach, instead it did it for him in the worst ways imaginable. But this time, he was the one choosing, and he was struggling a lot.

It wasn't just about detaching, because that meant leaving Ji-an completely behind, and that was not possible. It was more about him learning how to be around her, without letting her consume him. It wasn't just about her happiness, but also about finding peace for himself. Letting go didn't mean forgetting, but rather finding a way to live without the ache of her absence defining his every step.

For the first time, Su-ho dared to believe that peace wasn't impossible. There were moments—quiet and fleeting—when he felt the weight lift and the doubts about his worth fade into the background. In those moments, he could imagine a version of himself who wasn't bound by the past. And that version deserved a chance to exist.

It was hard, but he started to understand that moving on doesn't mean losing Ji-an. She promised to be there for him and vice versa, and as long as she allows him, he'd be her friend. Someone she could count on, trust, just like it was years ago before they fell in love. Moving on was about closing that chapter of his life, no matter how much it meant to him. He couldn't let the memories of his happiest days keep him stuck in place. He needed to find his own way forward.

The what ifs would always be present, but he knew things had to change. And as long as Ji-an was happy, so was he. He knew it wasn't the correct way to go about it. He knew Ji-an didn't want that, but the only way he could find peace with himself was by seeing the person he loves find it first.

And this was happening now just like he saw it coming months ago. Ji-an was happy, she found herself again. Through that course, she also grew closer to Han Seo-jun just like Su-ho predicted. Su-ho saw them together constantly, and it was agonizing because he wanted to be the one there beside her, comforting her just like she did to him with her mere presence. So that's what he did in his own way, careful to not overstep the boundaries a friendship had.

No one said it was easy. The journey was far from simple, but he needed to try. After all, this was far better than living a life with Ji-an gone. Beneath the pain, seeing Ji-an with Seo-jun brought an unexpected sense of peace, knowing someone loved and protected her in ways he no longer could. Su-ho knows how much Seo-jun loves Ji-an. Since they were kids, he has always been attentive and caring towards her. When Su-ho and Ji-an began dating, Seo-jun had even threatened to beat him if he ever hurt Ji-an.

Seo-jun will always have Ji-an's back, and for the first time, that realization felt less like a loss and more like reassurance. That was what Su-ho needed to accept, to move on—not just for Ji-an's sake, but for his own. Someday, he hoped to find the kind of peace and joy she brought into his life, even if it looked different. He was far from there yet, but he was beginning to believe it was possible.

Lost in thought, Lee Su-ho was only vaguely aware of the rising voices as he approached his homeroom. Su-ho's eyebrows furrowed, his walking pace slowing down. There was a crowd in the hall, right in front of the classroom, but with his height, Su-ho could easily see some of his classmates inside. They were being loud and Su-ho was about to turn around and walk the other way, when suddenly a hand clamped on his shoulder. It was Tae-hoon.

"There you are. Come on, let's go outside." The boy hurriedly grabbed his arm, about to pull him away. Su-ho wasn't interested in whatever silly thing his classmates came up with during their free period. Though, Tae-hoon's nervous demeanor was suspicious, more jittery than usual, so he stood his ground, growing curious as to what the boy didn't want him to see. Despite Tae-hoon's protests, Su-ho made his way through the students and walked into the classroom.

The sight that met him had him wishing he had listened to his friend.

From his vantage point at the back of the classroom, Su-ho saw Han Seo-jun and Kim Ji-an exchange bewildered glances. Behind them, colorful balloons framed the chalk board, a decorative banner hung on top, and in the middle multiple pictures were placed in line. Pictures of Han Seo-jun and Kim Ji-an. His heart ached the longer he stared, but it wasn't completely unbearable. He knew the pictures were for a magazine. Months ago, Ji-an told him about how she was working at the same modeling agency as Seo-jun. They were modeling, Su-ho reminded himself, but nothing about the pictures screamed they were acting.

The intensity in their gazes couldn't be faked. It was real, painfully so. The delicate rosiness covering Ji-an's cheeks that no artificial blush could replicate, the spark that ignited in her eyes behind any romantic gesture, and the slight furrow of her brows when she felt conflicted. Consciously, Ji-an couldn't do that because simply that was the way her body reacted while being close to someone she liked. Su-ho knew this because she used to do it around him, before they began dating and after.

From his peripheral vision, Su-ho saw Tae-hoon giving him an empathetic look. "Shouldn't we leave?" He whispered with concern.

Su-ho shook his head. "It's okay."

Tae-hoon didn't look convinced but he didn't push. With a lump in his throat, Su-ho's attention shifted to Hyun-gyu. The boy grabbed a microphone and some students turned to him wondering what he was going to say to Seo-jun and Ji-an.

"These pictures don't exactly scream exes to me. Are you sure you guys broke up for real?" Hyun-gyu questioned. The students heads snapped back to Seo-jun and Ji-an to hear their response, a few throwing more questions like if they still had feelings for each other or if they were dating again. Su-ho let out a heavy breath, a part of him having forgotten about how clueless their classmates were to the actual reality of the situation.

Behind the teacher's podium, Kim Ji-an shook her head, growing flustered by all the speculations. The huge posters the students held with the pictures from the shoot also didn't help her case. The pictures a reminder of what happened later on that day. She clapped her hands, making everyone quiet down. "Seo-jun and I aren't together, okay? We are just good friends. So we would appreciate it if you could stop with all these unnecessary rumors, please."

Their classmates let out murmurs of disagreement, and Su-ho had to tell himself that stepping in would do them no good. Tae-hoon placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder as they stood beside the door. Su-ho slowly began to relax, pushing away the unwanted thoughts. He wouldn't admit it but he was glad to have Tae-hoon around, even if the boy could sometimes be a little too much. These past months he's been very supportive and kind to Su-ho and it felt nice to have someone.

Seo-jun turned to Ji-an amused while the class continued expressing their protests. "Are you holding a press conference?"

Ji-an gave him a look, annoyed by how unbothered he was. "You should say something too."

Seo-jun sighed, his gaze softening. He stepped forward, taking a protective stance in front of Ji-an. His hand slammed against the wooden podium, his rings clicking against the surface. Ji-an slightly jumped along with everyone else. Gasps filled the room, everyone quieting down to hear Seo-jun. "You all! Cut it out. Ji-an already said it—we're just friends."

Beside Hyun-gyu, Cho-rong snatched the mic, his loud voice booming as he grinned. "I say you guys should get back together. You're obviously meant to be."

Seo-jun let out an exasperated breath, wondering if his friend was helping or making things worse. By the students reactions, nods of agreement and pleased smiles, he was only adding fuel to the fire. Eying Cho-rong sharply from across the room, Seo-jun called out as a warning, "Cho-rong."

Ji-an ran a hand through her hair feeling a bit overwhelmed. She didn't even know what was currently happening in her life, with Su-ho, with Seo-jun. Having people spreading rumors and opinions only worsen her turmoil.

Her line of sight fell to the back of the classroom and her eyes widened when she saw Su-ho. They made eye contact and Ji-an's heart was faintly squeezed. She had been so distracted that she hadn't noticed Su-ho's presence in the crowd. She grew anxious, wondering what was going through his head. It wasn't her intention to hurt him. Never. Though, the look on his face told her a lot. His eyes held sadness, but his expression also held something else, something along the lines of peace, acceptance.

↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷

Ji-an let out a sigh, stretching as she raised from her seat. Her body was tired from spending the last hour studying. They were all at the study cafe following their usual studying routine. Ji-an and Su-ho, Tae-hoon and Soo-ah, and Jug-yeong and Soo-jin worked in pairs. Throughout that hour, Ji-an constantly stared at Su-ho debating if she should bring up what happened at school. She didn't want him to believe what their classmates were saying. Ji-an was aware that it wasn't her obligation to explain things to Su-ho, but she knows that his relationship with Seo-jun is complicated.

They used to be best friends, and she didn't want things to be awkward and make Su-ho uncomfortable by letting him believe she was actually dating Seo-jun. The main reason why she had come up with the fake dating scheme was because she knew choosing Seo-jun of all people would affect Su-ho a lot more than a random guy. But things were different now, and this time it wasn't her intention to get a reaction out of Su-ho, let alone cause him pain. Her hesitancy behind bringing up the rumors was mostly because she didn't know if I'll help or only stir up old wounds.

While they were studying, the group still chatted here and there about their day, but this particular day Soo-jin didn't speak a word unless directly addressed which confused Ji-an. She decided to take a break and insisted for Soo-jin to tag along. The walk was silent and once inside the bathroom, Soo-jin walked into a stall while Ji-an stared at her reflection through the mirror, judging her tired appearance. Her hair which was in a ponytail was starting to cause a headache, so she took out the hair tie and massaged her scalp with a relieved sigh. She touched the strands, loving the shade of light brown that coated them. Dyeing her hair was one of the best decisions she could've done.

Soo-jin came out of the stall and joined her, standing in front of the other sink. Ji-an observed her friend through the mirror, noticing the dark circles beneath her eyes and the light missing inside them. Her body language was different too, like she was just following a routine instead of being there in the moment.

Ji-an frowned and asked, "Are you okay?"

Soo-jin nodded but didn't make eye contact. "Yeah, I'm fine." The speed in which she was washing her hands increased as if she was trying to remove something from her skin but couldn't. Ji-an knew Soo-jin was lying. She knew things between Soo-jin and her father wasn't the best, but something in her gut told her that it was much more than what her friend let on.

"You can talk to me whenever you feel comfortable. I know sometimes it's easier to bottle up your feelings because saying them out loud would make everything real." Ji-an's voice was gentle, a huge difference to the sound of the water hitting the sink. "But is good to share your struggles with someone you trust instead of letting the problems weight you down."

Soo-jin looked up, finally meeting Ji-an's gaze. They both held a mutual understanding, their life's not that different from the other. "Thank you, Ji-an."

The girl nodded, offering a small smile. When Soo-jin dried her hands, Ji-an noticed the redness and shedding on her friend's skin. She wondered how often Soo-jin scrubbed her hands so harshly and for how long this has been a habit. It hurt her to see her friend struggling and not being able to help. She could only hope Soo-jin would soon feel comfortable to pour out what's been bothering her.

Soon after Ji-an's discovery regarding Soo-jin, the group parted ways. Lee Su-ho offered to take her home, much to Ji-an's surprise. A part of her thought he'll want to have some time to be alone, collect his thoughts about what happened, about what people speculated about her and Seo-jun. While they were studying she didn't see any signs that indicated discomfort, but she couldn't read minds. The streetlights casted warm halos around them as they walked to the nearest bus stop, but no matter how much light illuminated them there was still some tension floating between them. Ji-an felt the pressure on her shoulders. She had to say something.

There was a moment of hesitation, her eyes focused on the cracks leading up their path. Her throat felt heavy, and when she spoke her tone was quieter than intended. "Su-ho, about what happened this morning at school," she paused trying to find the right words, "the rumors aren't true."

"Don't." Su-ho turned to her, his voice calm but firm. "You don't need to explain anything."

"I know, I just..." She sighed, meeting his gaze. "I messed up before, I took advantage of your situation with Seo-jun to make you jealous and that was wrong of me. You and Seo-jun used to be best friends and it's not right to- "

"Ji-an, it doesn't matter." He interrupted, and Ji-an stopped walking, her breath hitching at his words. Su-ho stopped too, turning to face her under the dim glow of a streetlamp. The sound of traffic was far away, muted, like they were underwater.

"That's all in the past now," he continued. A small reassuring smile formed on his lips, and Ji-an noticed that the pain in his eyes was fainter now, his smile more genuine. The most genuine she's seen from him in a while. "Look, I just want you to be happy. You don't have to feel guilty. It's good that you're moving on, even if it's with Seo-jun."

Her heart thudded painfully in her chest, his words both reassuring yet bittersweet. Su-ho's voice turned quieter, "Don't let me hold you back. Please."

His statement hurt Ji-an. It hurt her to know that he believed he wasn't allowing her to completely move forward. And in some way, Ji-an knew it was true, and that's what made it heart aching. For so long, she had emotionally relied on Su-ho, even after their breakup all her thoughts and motivations were focused solely on him. So now, almost three months after Su-ho's decision to let her go despite their love for each other, Ji-an finally felt like she was living for herself and not someone else. Still she felt this weight on top of her burdening her, but she realized now that Su-ho's sincere reassurance was the final thing she needed to feel free and lift her guilt for having moved on faster than him.

There was a softer feeling to the air between them, like the weight of their past was slowly lifting. Ji-an felt like she could breathe again, because for the first time, she could see how Su-ho was letting her go without any regret behind his eyes. He finally made peace with their relationship and himself.

Ji-an's voice was barely audible, charged with emotion. "Thank you."

Su-ho nodded, and the two resumed walking. The silence between them was no longer heavy, but comforting. Su-ho's heart also felt lighter after letting out those words. It felt good to know he finally removed the burden Ji-an was feeling. He was still in pain because his lingering feelings were still present, but it wasn't completely overwhelming. It didn't feel like he was suffocating anymore. He could get through it. He'll try to move on and focus on himself, be a better version of who he was before everything happened. He will be Ji-an's friend, and instead of clinging to the happy moments he spend with her, he'll try to build new ones. Live in the present and not the past.

And this included Han Seo-jun. If he could let Ji-an go, maybe he could start to let go of the bitterness he felt toward Seo-jun too. He was tired of their rivalry, of the constant back and forth. He only continued with it because Seo-jun did, but deep down, he missed his best friend. Maybe someday Seo-jun would be able to forgive him for what happened with Se-yeon, and somewhat be friends again. And if that day ever came, maybe they could start over—not as they were before, but as something better.

↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷

Kim Ji-an was basically skimming down the empty hallway, her math exam clutched in her hand. She couldn't stop smiling at the bold 98 scrawled on the paper. For weeks, the numbers and formulas had haunted her, mocking her every time she picked up a pencil. But now, the victory felt sweeter than she had imagined. The weight of her efforts lifted off her shoulders, replaced by a giddy sense of pride. She wondered where Lee Su-ho was, wanting to share the good news with him and thank him. Her hard work wasn't the only reason behind her academic improvement, Su-ho's tutoring was a huge factor too. She owed him a lot.

As Ji-an rounded the corner, wishing she could find Su-ho, she spotted Han Seo-jun leaning against a wall, scrolling on his phone. He glanced up at the sound of her footsteps, his lips curling into a smirk when he saw her beaming expression. "Someone's in a good mood."

"Yes!" Ji-an grinned widely and turned the paper around so he could see her grade. "Can you believe it?!"

"Look at you, Miss Genius," Seo-jun teased, his smirk widening. "Should I start asking you for tutoring lessons now?"

Ji-an rolled her eyes, smiling. "I don't have enough patience for that."

Seo-jun chuckled, his expression softening. Ji-an liked when he looked at her like that. It made her feel special. "I knew you could do it, sweetheart."

Ji-an's smile widened and turned shyer. She lowered the paper, her stomach doing a strange flip at the familiar nickname leaving his lips. That was new. After their almost kiss, Ji-an grew severely aware of Seo-jun and his demeanor around her. Her hyper-awareness decreased as the days passed, but the unnamed sensations in her body didn't. The nickname used to feel like nothing more than a childhood tease, but lately, there was something in his voice—something caring, less playful—that made her heart stutter.

Ji-an avoided his gaze, her pulse racing. She didn't know if it was the nickname or his gentle reminder of how much she allowed herself to overthink days before the exam.

"Thank you." She said and reached inside her pocket. "This also helped a lot."

Seo-jun's eyebrows raised, his eyes falling to the small figurine in her hand. He didn't know she carried it with her. He wasn't even sure she'd like it when he bought it for her. "You kept it with you?"

"Of course! You said I'll give me luck." Ji-an said, brushing her thumb over the dog's tiny face with a fondness. "Though, I'm always scared I'll drop it and lose it. It's just too cute."

Warm spread around Seo-jun's body. He never thought she'd appreciate his small gift. The thought about her keeping the figurine with her at all times made him observe her with adoration at her ability to appreciate such small gestures.

"You should name it." He suggested, his voice casual but his gaze lingering on the figurine in her hand.

"Hmm, you're right." Tilting her head in thought, she tapped her chin dramatically. "What about....Lucky?"

Seo-jun snorted. "How creative!"

"Hey, it fits." Ji-an exclaimed, and waved her fingers around the figurine. "Say hello to Lucky."

Seo-jun shook his head, an amused smile on his lips. It was hard to resist her comforting presence. His voice grew serious as he made eye contact with Ji-an. "Seriously, though. You worked hard for that score. You should be proud."

The girl blinked in surprise. She saw how much Seo-jun meant it and it made her happy. "I am."

"Good." He grinned. "Because I have something for you."

Ji-an's eyes widened, heat creeping up her neck and spreading to her ears at the news he had gotten something for her again. She tried to mask her nervous anticipation by asking, "Are you giving me a sibling for Lucky?"

Seo-jun laughed, "Not quite." He opened his backpack and what he took out had Ji-an's jaw dropping. "Think of it as a small gift for your accomplishment."

His last sentence wasn't register by Ji-an, her eyes set on the pair of markers he handed her. It was the exact same ones she had shown him a few days before, the ones she told him she wanted to try out. When she showed the picture to him, it was never with this result in mind. She just showed him because he asked. Yet again, Seo-jun had gone out of his way for her. Ji-an exhaled shakily, a strong emotion building inside her the longer she stared at the gift. She looked up at Seo-jun and then back at the markers.

An overwhelming amount of affection filled her heart. For the first very time realizing how deeply Seo-jun cares about her. She already knew that, he admitted it a couple of times, but did she know the real magnitude of it? His unwavering support in everything she did, remembering things she likes, and the way he looks at her so gently that it makes her want to melt into a puddle of goo.

The longer the silence stretched, so did Seo-jun's nerves. Did she like them? Did he mess up and bought the wrong ones? Why isn't she saying anything? Not being to take it any longer, Seo-jun opened his mouth to speak, but there was no need need because the next second Ji-an went into her tippy toes and pulled him into a hug. Her hands wrapped around his neck, her head tucked into his neck breathing him in.

"Thank you, Seo-jun. I love them." She whispered, the feeling of his arms wrapped tightly around her waist made her feel safe, secure. Seo-jun pulled her closer, their chests pressed together. A relieved breath escaped his lips, and he smiled against her hair. Ji-an's heart was going crazy, beating against her ribcage furiously. She didn't know what Seo-jun was doing to her, how or when it started, but she knew that with each passing day it was becoming harder and harder to let the lingering questions of their past friendship interfere with the way her body and heart responded to him. He hurt her in the past, and she was scared of history repeating itself, but why did this feel so right?

——————— ↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ—————

—Joy

This chapter wasn't supposed to be long 🧍🏻‍♀️

Truly, I'm not lying when I say that most of the time it's not my intention to write scenes so emotionally charged. I just wanted to give you guys more insight into Su-ho's thoughts but it turned out a lot sadder than intended. Rip Blue.

I didn't make any memes today. The chapter was emotional too soooo

I'll talk to you guys next week! 💗💗