Bangchan 🥀

Lately, everything hurt in silence.

Bangchan and y/n were still together, sharing a bed, dinners, and spaces. But they didn't share themselves. The love was still there, spent, silent, without the strength to sustain what had once kept them standing.

They didn't fight. They didn't argue. But the silence between them became louder than any shout. They spoke to each other carefully, as if their affection were fragile and couldn't withstand another wrong word.

Bangchan spent more time locked away. Y/N pretended to read. They passed each other around the apartment like strangers who remembered each other.

And yet, sometimes they looked at each other. For a second. With the same tenderness as before. And it hurt. Because they knew that wasn't enough anymore.

The nights were colder, even in our arms. Every gesture was automatic, every "I love you" more tiring. But no one said anything.

Until that night.

Y/N was washing the dishes. Bangchan watched her from the doorway, his hands in his pockets and his heart in knots. He knew it the moment he looked at her. She knew it too.

Without turning around, with her voice barely sustained, y/n said:

—Can we talk?

The water continued to run.

Bangchan closed his eyes.

-Yeah.

And in that moment, before saying everything, they knew that nothing would ever be the same again. {{user}} {{user}}