I MISS YOU.
summary. yeonjun isn't ready to let you go.
⇢ ex lover! yeonjun x gn! reader. tragic lovers. angst. mentions of car accidents, major character death, light description of car crash wounds. allusions to depression. bad coping mechanism. drunk driving and fights. grief (and everything you shouldn't do). NOT EDITED
a / n : welp, here it comes, the second angsty piece yay!
Yeonjun can only think of all the things you could have been and the things you already are.
Many words could be wrongfully used to describe you, from overly explosive to downright mean and aggressive, maybe a bit — too — daring and reckless, too brave for your own good, too irrational and impulsive. Too much of this, too much of that.
For Yeonjun it was way easier to list what he thought you were and what you especially weren’t. For example, he knew you were more scared than anyone about living and experiencing things, but you got bored easily, and the creeping feeling of barely existing sent chills down your spine. The world spun around you so fastly yet so painfully slow it drove you insane. When things were too difficult you just closed off and thought of quick solutions to be back on your feet in no time, and when things surprised you or made you happy you repeated them over and over.
He knew the little things got you hooked, like picking flowers from fields on a warm day and making breakfast early in the morning. You always smiled at the simplicity of things, at the tiniest of details. But he also knew that only happened when you were having a good day. At your worst, you craved nothing but to experience borderline deadly things, and the only person that could stop you from willingly driving yourself full-speed into a wall was Yeonjun.
He feels so stupid now because of that. Three years holding your hand and it only took him one night forgetting all those details to make you vanish just like that.
“You are staring again,” you tease, grinning. One of your hands raises up, index finger poking out to move swiftly a fallen stray hair from his face. You tug it behind his ear rapidly and retreat yourself to the same position you’ve been on for the past seven months. “Just take a picture already.”
Yeonjun gulps, feeling his heart beginning to pick up the pace just to catch up with your set of words. It is as if his mind enjoys hurting him, constantly playing tricks just to take the piss out of him. When you jokingly suggest the picture he can only sulk on the spot, lower lip protruding as tears well up to his eyes, shinning under the sunset.
“I’d take it if I could.” His aggressive tone comes up so unsurprisingly to you that you feel as if you’d laugh yet you don’t. To some extent, Yeonjun believes you feel bad for him so you try your best to tone down your usual act to comfort him. Sometimes you reach out and grace through his skin, waving some air into his lungs with your absent touch. It freezes him to death yet warms him up as if he was standing in the middle of a bonfire. Sometimes you try to say something witty or funny, poking fun at him, sending flying kisses or genuine smiles and he admires them all.
When the days turn grey you wait for him on the left side of the road, far away from your car with your regular attire. You extend your arms to him and wait for a hug with a broken smile and freshly tear-stained cheeks. His leather jacket protects you from the wind yet the white dress you wear does not stand a fight against the cold weather, still letting some breeze sip through your skin until your lips turn purple and Yeonjun feels bad for making you stay outside when you are clearly shivering.
On sunny days, like today, there’s no trace of a jacket. Your dress matches the small baby breath’s flowers splashed across your scalp, flowing down the path of your hair. You smile so brightly, competing with the sun, and even your touch gets to be felt somewhat real for Yeonjun.
He can almost believe that you are there with him and it pains him because he knows once he goes back into his parked vehicle, you’ll be gone with the wind.
“I miss you,” he expresses and you chuckle.
“...and here we go again with the sappy shit.”
“I mean it. I’m sorry.”
“We’ve talked about this, Junnie. You have nothing to apologize for. It wasn’t your fault.”
“I should have driven that night. I should have waited until we were home to talk about this...until we have sobered up.” A sudden wave of wind bends down the tall grass at the side of the road, hitting you full force and sending some petals of your flowers away. Yeonjun frowns, trying to extend a hand up to pick the ones that have fallen only for them to disappear right as he touches them.
“You were as drunk and angry as me, love. It wouldn’t have mattered who started the fight or who drove, even if we had taken the problem home it would have ended with us parting ways —.”
“Don’t talk like that,” Yeonjun interrupts sternly. It irks him how after all this time you still manage to doubt the stableness of your relationship. “I would have never left you.”
“But I would have, and you know that.”
He knows. The topic of breaking up had been a recurring one after you both hit your three-year mark. You loved him to bits and made sure he knew it every single day, even at your worst you put him first, but it was because of that that you have weighed down the possibility of leaving him behind. It had come to a point where all you did was depend on him; your mood drastically changed based on his current emotions and to some extent you couldn’t function without him. Your life was constantly on the line with recurring hurtful thoughts and the only person who could clear up the fog on your mind was Yeonjun leaving him with the uncomfortable job of looking up for you. More often than not he did not realize how incredibly bad it was for you and for him to be dependent on each other, but soon you had rationalized the situation. The numbness of your own problems had drowned all your love, and much to everybody’s demise, your suffering had brought something positive: you were the first one to realize — out of the two of you — that you needed a break.
The night you drove drunkenly through the slippery road with him, you had fought about this once again. This time, unlike the others, you had been determined to end things for good, having found a new level of courage over alcohol, but as you tried to leave Yeonjun followed quickly after you and got into the car. The fight you both shared as you struggled to see the path correctly resulted in you turning left too late with the car; the road that had been previously washed down by a heavy rain played against you, making the wheels spin harsher than normal, and thus you ended up in a car crash.
Yeonjun got a few scratches. One busted lip, a few bumps on his chest that left a purple mark, and a broken arm. You on the other hand had to be dragged out by the paramedics in a plastic bag. The force of the impact had fatally strung you and you only.
Yeonjun never forgave himself for letting the fight get so far. For a few months, he dwelled on his sadness, clinging to every memory of you with profound sorrow and guilt. Then he started driving himself to the spot you died and little by little his mind constructed a world in which you both connected, making him feel whole again.
It did not matter to him if your touch didn’t exist or if your complete image was produced by him to a tee, you were there and that was enough. Yeonjun felt less lonely, even if talking to the air was as rational as dancing with the ghosts.
Your death was non-existent, because how could you be gone when he still held onto you? He could feel your presence, hear your voice and see your figure. That should be enough, at least for now as he breathed, then he was sure he’ll meet you again on the same spot you died, to solve things properly and be together happily ever after, right?
“If we had broken up as soon as you realized we were going south, do you think it would have made any difference?” Yeonjun asks, letting the first tear fall down. “Would you still be alive?”
“I have no way of knowing, Junnie. At least I’m alive here, I guess” you point at his head, smiling, but the emptiness of your eyes blows up your weak act. He can see nothing on you, not even when you say you love him back. There’s no soul in the image he had built or real emotions expressed through your words. Everything is fabricated by him and you’ll do and say as he wants because you are a fraction of him now, nothing else. “Does that help?”
“No, I miss you.”
“I’m sorry I don’t exist anymore.”
“I love you.”
“I loved you too.”