The first way to break up.

Do something unforgivable. Get drunk at a cheap club and wake up in a dingy hotel with the bed sheets barely covering you, goose bumps against cool air. Look at the other side of the bed and think to yourself that it is probably good that you don’t remember anything from the night before. All traces of the girl is gone, save for the little spot of warmth next to you, but we all know she’s not the one you care about. Flinch when you think about the real girl who matters, and convince yourself that she actually doesn’t. The warm spot next to you grows cold but that’s not why you’re shivering.

Drop obvious hints here and there until she finds out about your evil deed and stand stone-faced before her as she cries and slaps you on the cheek. Revel in the stinging pain and blink back your tears because you know you’re bad for her. You’re her poison and all you want is for her to live. You tell yourself that she’s suffocating when she’s with you, but your stomach clenches and you almost want to throw up because her eyes are red and puffy now, and if it was any other circumstance, she would be in your arms right this second. Almost regret everything because nothing could be even more toxic than what you are currently witnessing. Bite back your apologies and watch her hate you. Watch her hate herself for hating you. Don’t crack when she says the words you wanted to hear all along. (Or did you?) Observe with a cold gaze as she storms away, on the verge of falling apart, and that’s the last you see of her.

Because soon, your frozen façade starts melting and the cracks spread and you’re falling apart too. Only then do you realize that she’s not the only fatality here, but it’s too late now. You’re her poison, but you’re your own poison too. Slowly succumb to it, whisper tales of regret, hoping that the frigid wind will carry them to her ears.

You know it won’t happen but you do it anyway.

The second way to break up.

Make it simple yet beautiful, like in the movies. Find her when she’s not busy, maybe when she’s taking a walk around the neighborhood, and try not to focus too much on the way her hair flutters in the summer breeze. Match your steps with hers and allow yourself to reminisce a little, the memories running through your mind in technicolor. It’s pretty, like the sunset in the sky, and hold back a chuckle when it occurs to you that it’s quite appropriate for the moment. Each day comes to an end as surely as the sun floats toward the horizon without cease – and so must your relationship, in which a boy and a girl have no idea where they are going in life or who they really are, held back from their dreams by a string that keeps pulling them back to each other. It’s an unspoken truth between both of you, how you have been tied together too long and it’s only right to cut the knot while you still can.

You both pretend to be surprised when you finally bring it up, calculated words about the uncalculated eternity that’s ahead, the repetitive talk about past failures and future goals – a future that probably won’t include each other, and it’s oddly sobering, how your whirlwind romance is doused with a spray of reality. Through your own blurry film of tears, peer into her eyes for one last time and tell her not to cry even though she already is. Wish her the best of luck and smile the best smile you can when she does the same. Promise each other that maybe once you both find your individual paths and mature as people, fate may find a way to bring you back together just as it did the first time. Maybe then you will finally be right for each other.

But for now, take out an old MP3 player from your jacket pocket and carefully place earbuds into her ears, brushing her hair out of her face for the last time, and press play. Watch her eyes widen as she recognizes that this is the song you serenaded her with a few months ago, and shift around uncomfortably when it only makes her cry more but this time there’s a bittersweet smile on her face. Tell her – gently, warmly – to close her eyes and admire the way her wet eyelashes flutter shut. Silently slide the MP3 player into her hand. Walk away in the other direction, and focus instead on the swathes of purple and pink and orange painted against the sky (but none of that could ever parallel the ethereal beauty that is the girl you just left).

Don’t look back, or else you may never be able to leave.

The third way to break up.

Try to make it as impersonal as possible. Don’t even give yourself the chance to see her face-to-face because you don’t want to witness the stricken expression in her eyes and you don’t want her to see the tears that will inevitably well up within you. It is just easier this way, you tell yourself. Stare at your phone for hours on end, heart pounding with dread and throat parched dry. Write a script only to erase the same words one-hundred and one times, the paper rubbed thin and pencil tip broken. Switch to a pen only to scratch out every other sentence because you were never good with words and you’re even worse now. Gaze despondently at the trashcan that is overflowing with wrinkled paper balls, and try to block out the ticking of the living room clock, seemingly getting louder with every passing second.

Finally gather the guts to call her number and wait with bated breath for her to pick up. Your eyes dart outside the window and you think to yourself that it’s a shame that you’re inside about to uproot the wilting flower that is your relationship when everything outside is blooming with the freshness of spring. Freeze for a second when her voice finally resounds over the line before you start your little spiel. Accidentally derail yourself when you deviate from your carefully-constructed script and instead utter rushed explanations and excuses that make zero sense. Lie through gritted teeth and tell her you only loved the idea of her. You didn’t really love her. You only loved the idea of loving someone and having that someone love you back. You only loved the feeling of her hand in yours and the idea of a happily ever after when none of that was ever real in the first place. Tell her you only loved the sensation of butterflies in your stomach, butterflies as fleeting as your love for her. Choke out those fabricated words, parading deception as the truth, and what’s worse is she’ll never know the difference.

Give her some time to cry and splutter at how you could do such a thing. Listen to her demands for a better explanation but you honestly have none. Let her anguished screams pierce your eardrum and don’t even think to distance the phone from your ear because you would gladly take this punishment. Don’t try to imagine the look on her face right now, the redness around the rims of her eyes or the cherry pink on the tip of her runny nose. When it finally dies down (but you know it hasn’t), murmur your last goodbye in monotone and frantically slam your phone on the table as your unsteady fingers press the end call button. You’re still shaking all over so you go outside for some fresh air and sunshine in hopes that you’ll feel alive once more.

It doesn’t help. If anything, you’ll never be able to experience the season of spring the same way ever again.

The fourth way to break up.

Let it fade out naturally, slowly, on purpose. Stand still as the two of you become busier with work and whatever else you have on your plate. Make half-hearted apologies when you arrive late to your weekly dates, your unmatched tie askew and your hair a complete mess as if you have no one to impress. Watch as the color in her eyes fade, the excitement and youth gone, soon to be replaced with lifelessness and disappointment. Pretend that you are no longer interested in her workplace gossip and her family problems and her personal thoughts, only popping into the conversation once in a while to note how the trees are beginning to turn orange and brown.

Turn away when she suggests sitting down and working things out between you two, and mutter that this is unable to be saved, not glancing up to see the look of pure hurt in her eyes. Swallow any thoughts of aborting this mission and running back into her arms because none of this had ever felt right, and it’s only fair that you break it off now. As your meetings with her become more obligatory than anything else, crack lame jokes over cold salmon and soda from the dollar store, and observe as her smiles no longer reach her eyes (although she does still try, for you). Throw yourself into your own selfish ambitions without regard for her well-being – although by now she no longer cares that much about you either (which is supposed to be a good thing).

Give yourself permission to fall out of love in the same way the old wrinkled leaves are falling to the ground, and don’t do anything when you see the girl who had been (and may still be) your everything also fall out of love. Let it happen because you decide that if the end is going to happen anyway, there’s no good in having a dramatic showdown complete with needless tears and loud arguments and hot blood cascading through your veins. Allow everything to taper out on its own, leaves floating lazily in the autumn mist, evening sky slowly growing darker and darker, blackening earlier as the days pass. Soon the night is so pregnant with the lack of light that you can no longer see her in the distance and she can no longer see you either, and that’s how it ends.

It all just stops, as simple as that, but your heart for her doesn’t completely, yet. But one day it will and you’ll be okay. Okay as ever.

The fifth way to break up.

Don’t.

Because she is the love of your life and as cliché as it sounds, you’re not about to let go of the one good thing you have. Because her smile is as beautiful as the summertime sun at its golden heights, and you’re caught in her orbit, pulled in by her alluring gravity. Because you enjoy chilly autumn walks by the park near the river, her hand clasped in yours, boots kicking at the crispy leaves sprinkled on the ground. Because you would rather be outside being pegged with snowballs while she’s laughing at you than be inside with the heater on full blast but with no one to flatter with your cheesy jokes and puns. Because to you, everything she does is picture-perfect, but your favorite is when you go out for impromptu photo shoots in the spring meadows, her sundress flowing gracefully against the backdrop of newly bloomed roses and daisies – and all you want to do is capture this moment forever in the lens of your camera until you have no more room for additional pictures.

Love her when she’s at her highest, when she’s laughing until her abs hurt and her eyes are shining with mirth. Love her when she’s at her lowest, when she’s a slobbery mess, used tissues scattered around, and her breaths are ragged and painful. Love her during every moment in between, when life is just okay but it could be much worse, because hey, at least you have each other.

Love her during the moments when you just can’t contain your affection for her, but also love her during the times when your relationship has lost some of its magic and you just want to some alone time to regroup. Love her even when it’s hard to love and forgive her when it’s hard to forgive, and she’ll do the same. Love her without thoughts of what she can do for you but of what you can do for her. Because she’s already done so much: she’s brought a ray of happiness into your life, a sense of belonging, a silent strength and refuge from the world.

Love her with warm bear hugs and spontaneous drives to her favorite restaurant. Love her with lazy hangouts at her place, music on full volume until the neighbors come bother you. Love her with encouraging notes left on her doorstep and massages after a long day. Love her patiently, kindly, selflessly, honorably. Love her with humility and truth.

And finally, love her with a love that always protects, always trusts, always hopes, and always perseveres.

Love her, love her, love her. Love her until you can’t anymore.

(And even when you can’t, you know in your heart that you still do and always will.)

author's note: happy birthday, jongin! muehehe. i bet you all thought this would be hardcore angst until the very end :P i would never let that happen since it is a happy occassion, haha. anyways, this is a pretty generic fic that could be used for any pairing but i could honestly imagine kaistal so vividly with all these scenarios. also if you watched the drama "plus nine boys" - i borrowed an idea from there (the MP3 player scenario - shoutout to btob's sungjae and apink's chorong for acting in those roles huhu ;_;). in the last part, i drew heavy inspiration from the famous biblical passage 1 corinthians 13 about the definition of love. i hope you enjoyed!