Flowers [ One-Shot ]


Tears burned your eyes the entire time while you sat down at Minseok’s house for dinner. You bore a convincing smile, nodding and laughing where necessary, and Kyungsoo did the same.

He was an amazing actor; this alone would be enough to convince anyone. Just a few seconds before he stepped into the house, there seemed to be a permanent crease between his eyebrows, and his jaw was clenched so tightly that you feared that it would break.

Everyone always assumed that you were the perfect couple, that marriage was on its way, but it was the furthest thing from the truth; you were both miserable together.

It was so jarring to look back at your relationship, remembering the sweet, baby-faced teenager who’d always go out of his way to see your smile, to now – he had zero regards for your feelings. Now, he only cared about himself, whatever he had going on, and you’d felt like an outsider for a very long time.

Despite how awful he made you feel sometimes, you still loved him. You’d been together for such a long time that you just couldn’t imagine yourself without him. But, you felt like you hated him from time to time, so much that you imagined yourself telling him everything that you’d held back for years, things that you knew would hurt him, then just leaving him.

But instead, you’d just lock yourself in the bathroom and cry.

You’d both left Minseok’s house earlier than everyone else, since Kyungsoo had to get to sleep early for work. And, the second you were out of everyone’s view, an irritating silence fell between you, and the bright smile that donned his lips just a few seconds before had been replaced by a scowl.

The anger from your last argument was still very much present. You let out an audible sigh.

He’d gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned a milky white, and you worried that they were a few seconds away from splitting wide open. He was holding his tongue, bottling up everything until he felt better.

But that never worked, not long-term anyway. It would always come up again, whether it was a few hours or a few weeks later.

“Why are you so angry?” you asked, exhaustion clear in your voice.

“Not angry,” he mumbled. “Annoyed.” Then, he let out a long sigh and shook his head. “I don’t see why you think I should give up my career for you.”

No matter how many times you’d assured him that you were happy that he was successful in his career, every time you mentioned how lonely you felt, his first assumption was always that you wanted him to give up everything for you.

“All I want is to feel important… to feel loved,” you replied, folding your arms across your chest as you stared blankly at the road ahead of you.

“But I do love you. I tell you every day,” he reminded you, but it never once crossed his mind that maybe just saying the words was enough. If you’d treated him the same way, only giving him mumbled ‘I love you’s’ before bed, right after you’d put so much energy into explaining how much he annoyed you, he would have already left you a long time ago.

But that was because everything was about him. You were just being too emotional and irrational.It had been two days, and he hadn’t even realised what he’d forgotten. “I’ll ask you this – when is my birthday?”

In an instant, all the animosity on his end melted away. He cursed under his breath before stuttering out apologies that you didn’t particularly care about.

You weren’t even bothered that he hadn’t celebrated your birthday with you; you never really did much anyway. It was the mere fact that he had forgotten that bothered you. So wrapped up in his old world that, once again, he forgot about you.

“Your birthday was two days ago,” he sighed. “And two days ago, you tried to tell me, but I told you that… you were getting on my nerves,” he recalled.

The memory was enough to have tears b in your eyes. You’d spent your birthday crying until your chest felt tight, until your eyes were sore. Meanwhile, he was living out his dreams, recording an album and shooting a movie within the same day.

You understood how busy his life could get, and you were well aware of the fact that you would never, ever be his number one priority, but you just wished that he’d make you feel like you were at least within top five.

The rest of the car ride was spent in complete silence. He’d probably realised that there was nothing he could have said to pacify the situation, and he was right. You didn’t even know who you were in a relationship with anymore, or if you wanted to be a part of it.

When you got home, you locked yourself in the bathroom. Your chest ached as you let out all the tears that you’d held back the entire night. You didn’t even know if you wanted to be with him. Was it even worth it? Did you even love him anymore? Did he even love you?

You had spent about thirty minutes pondering the fate of your relationship when you heard three gentle knocks against the door, and when you opened it, you weren’t surprised in the slightest.

He stood there with a bouquet of flowers, exactly twelve red tulips, as usual. You held back a sigh as you took them from his hands.

“I’m sorry I forgot your birthday, and I—”

“It’s fine,” you said with a wave. It was far from fine, but you didn’t even want to talk about it anymore. Nothing would get fixed anyway. You smiled a hollow smile and wrapped your arms around his body.

This would happen again, and you knew it. Because flowers didn’t fix anything; they were only a band-aid, and your relationship had become so fractured that it simply didn’t work anymore.

“I love you,” you whispered, warding off the tears that threatened to fall.

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