The phone rang again, its shrill tone piercing the quiet of my room like an accusation. I had already ignored it several times, but each buzz made my stomach tighten as I stared at the screen, seeing his name flashing in bold, glowing letters: Minho. It was almost as if the universe was mocking me—reminding me of the mess I'd created, the silence that had built up between us.
I leaned back in my chair, the weight of the tension in my chest unbearable. I couldn't breathe, not because of anything physical, but because of how suffocating the situation had become. It wasn't the ringing phone. It was everything else. The feelings that I didn't know how to process, the confusion I kept denying, and the truth I was too terrified to admit.
I didn't know what I was afraid of more—answering the phone or not answering it. If I picked up, I would have to face him. But if I didn't, it felt like I was making it worse, like I was pushing him away more than I already had.
The silence was overwhelming. The air around me seemed to press down, thick with the weight of all the words I hadn't said. I wanted to scream, to make it all go away, but the truth was I couldn't escape. Not this time.
Another vibration broke through my thoughts, and I bit my lip hard, glancing down at the screen. The same name—Minho. I swallowed hard, my throat dry. There was no use avoiding it anymore. He wasn't going to stop. He had never been one to give up easily.
I stood up abruptly, pushing the chair back with a loud scrape against the floor. My heart was pounding in my ears, and my palms were sweaty. I could feel my knees wobbling, but I took one step after another toward the door. I had to face this. I had to stop running.
I reached the door, my hand trembling as I touched the handle. It felt heavy in my palm, like the weight of all the decisions I had been avoiding. I could hear my own heartbeat as I slowly turned the knob. I knew it was him. I didn't need to check. It could only be him.
The door opened with a soft creak, and there he was, standing in the hallway. Minho. My heart skipped a beat, and I froze, my breath catching in my throat. I wasn't ready. I wasn't prepared for this.
His gaze met mine immediately. There was something different in the way he looked at me, something that made my pulse stutter. His usual cocky confidence was gone. Instead, there was a weight to his eyes, a quiet intensity that I couldn't escape.
"Are you just going to stand there?" Minho asked, his voice low and rough, tinged with frustration. "I've been trying to reach you."
I opened my mouth to say something, but no words came. I felt small and lost, caught in the storm of emotions swirling inside me. I wanted to yell at him, to tell him to leave, but I couldn't do it. Not anymore.
"I've been busy," I finally managed to say, my voice sounding much weaker than I had intended. "I didn't know what to say."
Minho didn't move. He just stared at me, his expression unreadable, before he finally took a step forward. "Busy? With what? Hiding from me?"
I winced at the accusation, my heart aching with the truth of it. Hadn't I been hiding? Hadn't I been running from him, from everything we had started to build? It felt like I had spent so much time convincing myself that none of this mattered, that I didn't need him, that I could keep my distance. But now, in front of him, everything felt different. He was right in front of me, and it was impossible to ignore the way he made me feel.
"I wasn't hiding," I whispered, trying to convince both him and myself. "I just needed space. I needed to think."
"Think?" His voice cracked, betraying a flicker of something raw—something vulnerable. "Haru, how long are you going to keep pretending? You've been thinking for days, avoiding me, avoiding what's happening between us. I don't need your excuses."
I opened my mouth to argue, but Minho's words hit me like a physical blow. He was right. How long had I been running from what I really felt? How many times had I convinced myself that this—that we—wasn't real?
I took a deep breath, the words forming in my mind before I even knew what I was going to say. "I'm scared, Minho," I said, the confession slipping out before I could stop myself. "I'm scared of what this means. I don't know how to handle it."
Minho's gaze softened, though there was still an intensity in his eyes that made my heart race. "Scared?" he echoed. "Why? You think this is easy for me? You think I don't feel the same way? I've been going crazy trying to figure this out too, Haru."
I flinched at the rawness in his voice. "But we're not supposed to be doing this. We're supposed to be enemies. We're supposed to hate each other."
His lips curled into a bitter smile, but there was no humor in it. "That's what you think? That's what you've been telling yourself?"
"I don't know what else to think," I replied, my voice shaking. "You're—everything I never wanted. Everything I didn't need."
Minho's eyes flashed with something darker, something I couldn't place. He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming, and I had to fight the urge to back away. His body was too close, his heat too much to ignore.
"You think I'm everything you didn't need?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. "Funny, because for the longest time, I thought you were the one thing I couldn't live without."
I felt my breath catch in my throat. His words were like a punch to the gut. Was he serious? Could he possibly feel the same way?
"Minho…" My voice cracked. "This isn't how I imagined it. It's not how I planned it."
"Plans," he scoffed, his hand reaching up to gently brush a strand of hair away from my face. "Plans don't mean anything. Not when it comes to this. Not when it comes to us."
I closed my eyes, trying to shut out the growing storm inside of me. "I didn't want this. I didn't want you."
The words were out before I realized what I had said. They were harsh, cruel, and yet, there was a part of me that needed to say them, needed to push him away so that I wouldn't get hurt. So that I wouldn't fall any deeper into this thing that was consuming me from the inside out.
But Minho didn't back off. He didn't look away. Instead, he stepped closer, his body brushing against mine, his breath warm on my face.
"You're lying," he said softly, his voice like silk, but with an edge that cut right through me. "You do want me. You've wanted me for a long time. You just don't know how to admit it."
I shook my head, but the lie felt hollow even as I said it. Everything inside me screamed that he was right. Everything inside me screamed that I did want him, but I couldn't let myself accept it. I couldn't.
But Minho wouldn't let me go. He wasn't backing down. His hands cupped my face, his thumb brushing over my cheek as if he were memorizing the shape of me, every curve, every angle.
"I won't let you keep lying to yourself, Haru," he whispered, his lips brushing against my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. "Not anymore."
I felt the pressure in my chest build again, a knot of emotion I couldn't untangle. "I don't know if I can do this. I don't know if I can be with you. Not like this."
Minho's hand slid to the back of my neck, pulling me closer, and for a moment, I thought I might fall into him completely, that I might just let go of everything that had been holding me back.
"You don't have to do anything. Just stop running," he said, his lips now hovering inches from mine. "Let me in, Haru. Let me show you that I'm not going anywhere."
I closed my eyes, the distance between us collapsing in an instant. The words, the tension, everything that had been building between us came crashing to the surface. And as his lips finally brushed against mine, I couldn't fight it anymore. I couldn't fight him.
It was like everything clicked into place. The silence, the waiting, the confusion—it all melted away. The walls I had built up around my heart crumbled, and for the first time in days, I felt like I could finally breathe again.
The kiss was soft at first, hesitant, like we were both testing the waters. But the moment our lips met, something shifted. The spark that had always been between us ignited into a flame. His hands moved to my back, pulling me closer, and I responded instinctively, my arms wrapping around his neck as I melted into him.
We were tangled up in each other, caught in the rush of emotions that neither of us had known how to deal with until now. The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, more desperate, as if we were both trying to make up for lost time. The world around us ceased to exist. There was only him. Only me.
I could feel the heat of his body, the steady rhythm of his breath, the way his touch sent sparks of electricity racing across my skin. It was overwhelming, dizzying, and I was powerless to stop it.
When we finally broke apart, we were both gasping for air, our faces flushed. I looked up at him, my mind spinning with a thousand thoughts, none of which made any sense.
Minho's forehead rested against mine, and I could feel the warmth of his skin, the steady beat of his heart. He looked at me, his eyes soft but intense, as though he were searching for something in my expression.
"Are you sure about this?" I whispered, my voice barely audible.
He didn't hesitate. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life."
The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. This was real. We were real. And for the first time, I let myself believe it.
"I'm scared," I admitted, my voice trembling. "But I don't want to run anymore."
Minho smiled, his thumb brushing over my cheek in a gentle, soothing motion. "Then don't. Stay with me. Let's figure this out together."
It wasn't going to be easy. I knew that. There would be more fights, more misunderstandings, more moments where I would doubt everything. But in that moment, with him standing in front of me, I realized that I didn't have to do it alone. And maybe—just maybe—that was enough.
We stood there for a long while, just holding each other, letting the silence speak for us. It was a new beginning, and even though I didn't know where it would lead, I knew that for once, I wasn't afraid to face it.