were you sent by someone who wanted me dead? (did you sleep with a gun underneath our bed?) - jeremy swayman
pairing: jeremy swayman x original female character
warnings: swearing, pretty angsty. hopeful ish ending because i can't do sad endings, very personal but i think many can relate in their own way, cliche ish, barely proofread
inspired by + title: "the smallest man who ever lived" by taylor swift
word count: 5.6k
author's note: i'd argue almost every piece any author writes is personal, because it has their life interspersed through the words. but this one really is, because a majority of this is the exact same words i wrote years ago after a break-up. heard the bridge to this song and immediately knew i had to write something inspired by it. also trying a new format of sorts (maybe a bit meta??), so i hope you enjoy and lmk what you think!!
~*~*~
When Noelle Betsko walked away from Jeremy Swayman, holding back tears until the call dropped, she knew it was going to be a tough time for the foreseeable future.
It didn’t matter that the pandemic had forced them apart. She knew she would still feel him for months to come.
She did the only thing she knows how to do when trying to deal with things. The one thing she always resorts to as an aspiring novelist. Sometimes on her laptop when the words were spilling out too quickly for her brain to catch up, tears littering the keyboard. Usually in her old beat-up journal, scribbling in the cursive that Jeremy claimed he always loved (“It makes your handwriting unique”) with the pens he had gifted her just a few months prior.
At the age of 21, Noelle got her heart broken for the first time. At the age of 26, she’s about to publish her first poetry collection of sorts, all of the poems modeled after journal entries written throughout her life. So not really poetry, though her mother would say otherwise.
She swallows as she thumbs through the middle part of the first known and binded copy of “miscellaneous.” There are only eight entries in the whole collection that are taken verbatim from her past writing. These are the eight.
May 13, 2020 (three days post-breakup, crying in my childhood bedroom)
I don’t even recognize who I was and who you were in those writings before these pages filled with love and hope and happiness. I can’t even summon up those feelings anymore that I knew existed at one point. Those feelings of complete bliss and love for someone so deep you can’t explain it.
I’m mad at myself for not being able to conjure those feelings, because at one point, I did love you. How could something that was part of my daily life for over two years just disappear so quickly?
But now, I’m not mad at myself. I’m mad, but I don’t know where to direct that anger to. I feel a bit empty sometimes, but then frustrated the next. Sometimes I get sad, but not so much compared to the other feelings. I spent enough time being sad during our relationship.
When we broke up, on an annoyingly beautiful Tuesday in May — over the damn phone, mind you, which whatever, it’s COVID. Fine — You told me you felt like you had been putting more effort into us.
At the time, I didn’t react, but I’ve been thinking about how angry that statement made me. Makes me, actually. I was always very open with how much I gave to that relationship. How much it meant to me. How much it affected me. But I understand that with some people, sharing everything too much equates to things not meaning anything anymore. But you out of all people should’ve known that I mean everything I say.
I felt like I gave so much. I know I gave so much. When I told you I loved you, I always meant it. Every single time. When I told you I missed you, I always meant it. I wished you were right next to me at that moment. I mentally gave so much, because to me, I wanted to. You were always on my mind, always high up on my list of priorities. I never took us for granted.
I’ve been questioning if that was the same for you. Did you start becoming complacent?
The second thing you said that day that hasn’t left my head is that you knew me pretty well. And initially, I remember not thinking much of it. So I don’t doubt that; you always knew right when I was about to cry, even over the phone. You often knew when I was mad or upset, but when I look back now, you never pushed. Which is a good thing, to an extent. But it was a bad thing sometimes too. I knew you often wanted to give me space, but sometimes I didn’t want space. I wanted you to push. To try to understand. Maybe that’s unfair of me; it probably is. I should just say I want to talk about it more, right?
But if you genuinely knew me, you would’ve known.
After two years, seven months and 12 days, I still feel like I didn’t know you. Did I ever know you at all?
When people talked shit about you, I always defended you. And I still would defend you now. But lately, I've questioned what I’m even defending. All those good qualities that I thought you had, were they even real? Of course, I know some of them were, to a certain extent. But as I look back on us, there’s a lot of doubt about whether I even knew the person I called my boyfriend for so long. I know there was a point where you cared about me, but I can’t remember when.
I often felt like I was letting you know so much about my life, but you didn’t do the same. I get that sometimes a person just wants to forget about the bad and focus on the good with a person you like for awhile. I get that. But once that was happening every damn time? That should’ve been a red flag.
June 7, 2020 (twenty eight days post break-up, outside my childhood room on the deck)
I don’t understand how you can give so much to something or someone and have it not be recognized or appreciated or enough. If I wasn’t enough for you, how will I be enough for anyone?
I hope one day you’ll truly understand how much this hurt. Not just the breakup, but feeling like I was always being pulled in a direction I didn’t always want to be pulled in. Feeling I was stuck between a rock and a hard place and never ever being able to win. I hate that I settled so much in the last year. Because I should’ve demanded more, even though deep down I knew you were never going to be able to give it to me.
I think back to our past daily texts, and I just don’t get it. At one point, we both meant the things we said to each other.
Yet we still hurt each other.
This fucking hurts.
You’ve hurt me so much, but most of it wasn’t intentional, which I think is somewhat even worse. Because I’m not totally mad at you for causing the pain. You never did anything outright to cause me pain, but I still feel like you did.
Unintentional pain almost stings more than intentional.
When I asked you out that night after we were both on an emotional high, I took a chance. For once in my life, I took the leap, knowing that I could get humiliated or hurt or just straight up shot down.
Where did it all go wrong? Or, more realistically, how did we think that we could go through the wrong when it was there at the start?
I’m trying not to blame myself too much. Trying not to tell myself that I should’ve known better.
All those times, especially at the start, when I would ask you if you genuinely liked me, you always thought I was just trying to be annoying. But you never understood that I genuinely thought that way. My self confidence from the start was lacking, and you didn’t try to understand that, because I come across to everyone as confident and self-assured.
It hurt, when you would brush things off like that. I felt like you didn’t care.
And then, it got to the point where I stopped asking that question. Part of that is because I did become more confident and you did show that you cared, and part of that was because I knew it would piss you off.
The amount of things I was scared to talk about with you because I knew it would piss you off? I don’t wish that feeling on anybody.
I shouldn’t have been scared. I shouldn’t have been uncomfortable. But I was. And if you did notice like sometimes you claimed to, why didn’t you make it more comfortable for me? Was that too much to ask for?
So larger than life that at the end, you faded into just the smallest man who ever lived. Fuck you.
Was it too much to ask for when I just wanted to know why you were upset? You didn’t have to ever tell me the full story (lord knows there were times I didn’t), but was it too much to ask for something? You told me once that I’m the person you’ve told the most to. How? You barely told me anything. And when I wanted to talk to you, whether it was about growing up in Alaska or why you were in a bad mood last night, you always brushed it off. Always.
So I don’t feel so bad about feeling like I gave more effort. I gave so much of myself to you. If you really cared about me like you claimed you did, why couldn’t you show even just 1% of that care back? Or just meet me in the middle?
I could’ve tried harder to meet you in the middle, I’ll admit that. But you didn’t even give me a map or a clue how to.
I felt so fucking left in the dark. I felt left in the dark about my own fucking relationship, something that I should be completely sure about. If you really love someone and care about them, how can you leave them in the dark? How could you not even see that I was struggling to find a flashlight?
You did care about me. I know that. To some extent and at some point in time, you did care about me. But caring about someone and their well-being isn’t always enough.
Why couldn’t you have worked with me? When I was extending my hand out, why didn’t you reach for it? How can someone just be so blind? I mean, I’m practically always spelling it out for you.
Maybe I am being selfish. But fuck, I just wanted to be happy. At some point, you made me happy. When did I start making you feel like I wasn’t enough? Why wasn’t I enough for you?
It’s useless, in a way, to keep going about this. Because I know I deserve better. And we’ll both find people who are better for us. We just couldn’t be that person to each other.
I fucking loved you.
I wish it ended differently.
July 8, 2020 (fifty nine days post-breakup, in front of the lake)
I really really fucking miss you.
I do.
I miss being able to text you that i love you and not necessarily expecting a response until the next morning. I miss knowing that as soon as you wake up, you’ll text me back and assure me that yeah, you love me too.
I’m left feeling bittersweet as I look back on memories that are just splashes and not definite strokes on the canvas that used to be us.
I miss having you as a friend.
I’ve been having more urges lately to want to text you. And it isn’t even anything important. Just moments I experience throughout the day.
Do you get the urge to do the same?
July 19, 2020 (seventy days post-breakup, still in the same damn house)
It’s hard. It really is. And it kinda just hits you at random parts of the day. Sometimes I wake up from a dream that you were in and have to remind myself that it didn’t happen.
Sometimes it physically aches when I realize that you won’t ever help me put on my jacket again, or complain that my hair is in your face when we’re lying on the couch watching Brooklyn Nine Nine, or groan when I drag you up to dance with me (which you never improved on, no matter how many times I tried to teach you basic rhythm). I can’t view our song the same way anymore, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to.
The other day, I read some simple thing on Twitter. I don’t even remember what it was, but I do remember that for a split second, I could see your smile in my mind. But it wasn’t just any smile. It was the smile you gave me when you took me ice skating that first time. I remember asking you what you were smiling at, and you said that you just were taking in this moment. I don’t know if you took a mental picture that day, but I know I did. That day seems so long ago now.
In almost anything I do, you somehow pop into my mind or into the conversation. And it’s not even in a harmful way either. It’s because you were part of my life for so long. I see a dog on the street, and it reminds me of how you always stopped to pet every single one we’s see I write something in my messy handwriting, and I remember how you always used to complain that you couldn’t read the notes I’d occasionally leave around your place when you went away. I went to the doctor’s the other day, and they said I was 5 feet and 3 inches, which is just definitely not true, and I almost reached for my phone to text you, because you would’ve cackled and insisted that no, I’m 5 feet 2 inches and it wouldn’t even matter because I’ll always be shorter than you. It’s simple and minute things that make me miss you that much more.
I still can’t listen to some songs the same way anymore, but I can at least listen to them now, which is a feat in itself. I was unpacking from college and found the teddy bear you sent me the first extended time we had to be apart and had to immediately put that out of my sight. From those boxes also came photos that I had decorated my dorm room with, and to be honest, I’m glad now that I let you keep our best one. I deal with all my emotions, besides writing, by making Spotify playlists, and I made a new one earlier this week. I think it’s helping. It’s a slow process, this whole moving on thing, but it’s one that I’m trying to be grateful for, because like most things in life, you just don’t truly know until you go through it.
Sometimes, I find myself wondering how you are and how you’re healing. But, even though we’ve both changed since the day we met, if there’s one thing I know, it’s that you’re incredibly strong and stubborn. I hope that you’re finding some growth in this process too.
October 17, 2020 (one hundred fifty seven days post-break up, apartment in orono)
It’s been almost 5 months, and you still cross my mind everyday.
Why wasn’t I enough for you? Why didn’t you fucking tell me what you were thinking? Why was I the one who had to approach you just because I was just so done with the silent treatment?
But I’m not mad at you. Not anymore. The mad phase passed ages ago.
Closure is a fake word. Even a breakup as mutual and smooth as ours was still left me with so many questions that will probably never be answered.
Any breakup fucks you up to some extent. I knew it was going to mess me up even back when we were together. But not like this. Never like this.
But like anything in life, I guess you can never really prepare for what you think you might feel, because most of the time, you discover a whole new side of you that you never thought existed.
I don’t miss you. I don’t. I don’t feel that love in any way anymore.
But I did once.
You did too, right?
November 15, 2020 (one hundred eighty six days post break-up, fogler library)
I hate Halloween.
Though, it did bring me to you three years ago. I’m pretty sure I fell in love with you right then and there.
Three years later, you texted me on Halloween, five months after our breakup. The universe really, really wanted to fuck with me.
It was a tough night for you. I knew that. Because I know how you are after losing a game you should’ve won. But that didn’t mean that I owed you anything and had to respond.
We agreed on no contact if we ever wanted to stay friends. Clearly, friends is out of the picture now, but come on. A vulnerable text after a bad night because you know I would feel bad for you?
Fuck, you know how much I would hate that. You had to have known.
Just because we’re not dating anymore doesn’t mean that everything about you just disappears. I still know your tendencies. I still know exactly how my head burrows into your chest during a hug. I still know the actions I used to do that would be followed by you attacking me with a hug. I still could point you out in a crowd.
I looked for you in every crowd for years.
That stuff doesn’t just go away, no matter how much I want it to. But fuck. Fuck. Why did you text me?
I don’t regret how I handled it. I probably would’ve responded months ago. But just like you, I’ve grown these last couple of months.
It was comforting, for a split second, to know that maybe, just maybe, these past couple of months have been hard for you too. It makes me feel human. It makes me feel like I’m not crazy.
I’m glad you texted me. You gave me another level of closure I hadn’t known that I needed until then.
But fuck, dude. You know me better than that. You should know me better than that.
I hate Halloween.
November 26, 2020 (one hundred ninety seven days, at the coffee shop i brought you to when you came home with me two years ago)
I don’t regret loving you, but I hate you for what you did to me.
Or maybe not.
I hate knowing that even though we haven’t been in a relationship in a bit, it feels like sometimes, you’re on my mind the exact same amount when we were dating. I hate knowing that I gave so much of myself and my love to you, and it always felt unrecognized.
Fuck, will it ever stop hurting? Will I ever be able to have to stop myself from thinking about you? Will it ever stop?
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Happy birthday. I hope you enjoy it.
June 12, 2021 (three hundred ninety five days post-break up, in boston, visiting a friend)
Tonight, when a friend asked me about you and how I felt about how we ended, I was able to articulate my thoughts clearly. I’m really proud of myself for getting to a point where I can take the lessons I learned the few months after we broke up and acknowledge them in a succinct way without breaking down into tears. Just watery eyes and the occasional voice crack
I’m also proud that I can say that when we were dating, I lost a bit of myself. For months, it was really hard to admit out loud.
I’m proud of how far I’ve come. Sometimes, I wish I could call or text you about it, because I think you’d be proud too. And I know I’d be proud of you. I am, to be honest. I do break resolve once in awhile and check on you through various avenues.
I still haven’t seen you in person since the last time COVID made us say goodbye. Maybe I never will again. But day by day, I’m starting to accept that and be okay with it. I’m accepting that memories that used to be so painted in my mind are blurry or almost completely erased now. But that’s okay. Honestly, it’s probably for the best.
I wonder, when you think about it, if you think about different moments that I do. That’s the thing when something ends. You have to be okay with letting go of those moments and realizing that just because you forget them, doesn’t mean they weren’t important.
I don’t think I miss you. I hesitate in saying that. Because I’ve moved on and handled the aftermath of it better than I think both of us ever thought I could. When you hung up the phone for the last time, I proved to myself again that I’m stronger than I give myself credit for. I think we all are. But we don’t realize it until we’re thrown into a situation that we think we’ll never be able to overcome.
But we do. Whether it’s because we’re forced to because there’s no other option, it doesn’t matter. Because we get through. We move on.
I hope you're moving on.
And then it goes into other topics, graduating during a pandemic specifically and losing what’s supposed to be your last year of no responsibilities before adulthood. There are other poems in here that reference a past relationship, but not as much as these eight.
If there’s one thing that Noelle did change, it was taking out the details. Jeremy may have hurt her, but he doesn’t deserve someone possibly making a connection between these poems and their shared background. She’s not a famous author by any means, but she wanted to be careful.
Not that she makes that part of her life publicly known. People don’t need to know that her brother was Jeremy’s captain for two years at Maine and that’s how they met.
Noelle grew up going to rinks. She hasn’t gone to one since they broke up.
But also, what the fuck? It’s been five years since she’s dated the guy. She really is over it by now, even if his rise to stardom in the Bruins flittering on her social media feeds still sometimes has her swallowing a bit before she can continue with her day.
Brooklyn is far enough from Boston. But sometimes it feels like it’s right outside her door.
She’s proud of her first published work. She really is. People believed in her and after numerous notes swapped back and forth with her editor, she did it. She always knew she wanted to work in publishing. She never knew she herself would publish anything.
And here she is now, two weeks after the book release, in Boston, about to do a q&a and a signing. Apparently, “miscellaneous” has been on top of numerous lists and it’s flying off the shelves. Noelle can’t really believe it and tries not to think about it too much, trusting her agent with all of that.
She’s happy to talk about her work and process though. That she can handle. And she’s grateful for all the love.
After a signing at a local bookstore, she decides to walk the 20 minutes home in the Boston fall. It’s a bit brisk, but she doesn’t mind and she just wanders, belly filled with delicious sushi she inhaled for dinner with an old friend.
Of course it happens the one time during her walk when she doesn’t avoid eye contact with someone. The song playing in her earbuds fade out of her focus and she almost stumbles.
Jeremy’s eyes were always Noelle’s favorite thing about him. She thought she would’ve forgotten what they looked like by now. But clearly she hasn’t.
Her eyes quickly cast to the person next to him. It’s definitely a girl. They’re a bit too far away for Noelle to pick out details. But it’s enough. He’s walking on the side closest to the street. It’s a Friday Night in a bustling part of the city.
It hurts. She wishes it didn’t.
Even from far away, she sees his eyes blink in recognition. Noelle puts her head back down and walks faster.
(She cries in the shower when she gets back to the hotel. She had debated feeling super sorry for herself and going to the hotel bar but refrained)
She has a few free days in Boston before flying back to New York. When she wakes up the next morning, she debates on going home early. But no, she won’t let a three second glance at someone ruin her time here. She used to occasionally come here during her college days. She loves this city.
The city may be Jeremy’s, but she can make space for herself here too.
She takes her time at a cafe, people watching and eating some breakfast. As she takes her coffee to-go, she looks out the window at the bookstore she was in the night before for the signing. She almost drops her coffee.
Jeremy walks into the book store.
Now, Noelle is debating her options. What she should do is continue with her day and walk in the opposite direction. But she’s always been too nosy for her own good. And maybe a bit self destructive. She decides to leave the cafe and cross the street immediately, so impatient to where she’s almost tapping her foot as the pedestrian signal stays red.
As a writer, she’s no stranger to movie moments. The scenes written in books or movies where the timing is too accurate to be real. The situation too good to be true. But after a car speeds through an orange and she can finally walk, she stops in her tracks instead, feet glued down to the sidewalk.
Because Jeremy is right in front of her on the other side of the street. Her book in his hand. And he’s looking right at her.
The first feeling she can recognize in herself is anger. Anger at the way their relationship panned out. Anger at the way they ended. Anger at the radio silence the years following. Anger at him for everything. Angry at herself for everything.
The second feeling is, weirdly, shame, which she’s embarrassed by. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. But she feels it anyways.
The third, and perhaps the most prominent, is emptiness. Five fucking years later, and she’s brought back to the emptiness she felt immediately after they broke up. The emptiness that the person you loved isn’t yours anymore — who maybe wasn’t ever yours to begin with.
Before she can run, he’s already crossed the street to her. He looks naturally different as someone who you haven’t seen in five years would. But he also heartbreakingly looks the same.
“We should get out of people’s way,” Noelle manages to chokes out.
Jeremy laughs a bit. Her heart lurches. “Yeah.” He starts walking and she follows him wordlessly. This is his city after all.
He leads them to a bench under a tree with beautiful fall foliage. She puts at least a foot between them as they both sit down, staring out at the people passing. She can’t take the silence.
“I see you bought my book.”
“I did,” he replies evenly. “Congratulations. I always knew you would do it.”
She squeezes her eyes shut. Maybe if she squeezes hard enough she’ll forget when she originally pitched Jeremy the bare bones idea of the exact same book that’s currently in his hand. “Thank you. Congratulations to you too. On everything.”
“You’ve been watching?”
She shakes her head. “No. But, you know Seth and…yeah. It comes up during family calls sometimes.”
“Why didn’t you say hi last night?”
She looks pointedly at a couple walking their dog. “You seemed busy.”
“She wasn’t-that-it doesn’t mean anything.”
“Oh. Because that makes me feel so much better,” she spits out, before taking a deep breath. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. We broke up ages ago.”
“I’m sorry,” she gives him a look and is slightly proud of how he seems to shrink into himself a bit. “I-I know it’s five years too late. I know I didn’t handle it as well as I should’ve. But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
The thing is, Noelle always thought that maybe hearing an apology someday would make her feel better. But now that’s heard it, she’s not sure she does.
She swallows. “I appreciate that.”
“I’ve already read it, you know.”
“Read what?”
Jeremy runs a hand through his hair. “Your book. One of my teammate’s girlfriend recommended it and I asked to borrow it. It’s fantastic,” He looks down at the book in his hand. It’s like the cover is taunting her. “I wanted my own copy.”
“Oh.”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For letting me off the hook with the poems I know were about me,” he scoffs, shaking his head at himself. “You could’ve written way worse.”
She can’t help but let out a chuckle. “I thought I was pretty mean.”
“Your definition of ‘pretty mean’ is tame compared to a lot of people,” he says, mindlessly flipping through the pages of the book. “You were always the kindest person, even when you shouldn’t have been..”
He puts his hand out in her direction, the hand with the book in it. She furrows her eyebrows. “What-”
“Could I get a signed copy?”
“Jeremy. What do you want from me?”
He sighs, taking his hand back. “A chance to apologize?”
“You’ve already done that.”
“Not in the way I want to and what you deserve.”
She lets out a sigh, turning to face him fully. “I don’t know if that would be worth my time or yours. I know the book just came out, but that was five years ago. I’m over it. Forgive and forget, right?”
“But do you?” Jeremy counters back. “Clearly, you don’t forget, which I deserve. But forgive?”
“We’re just going in circles now.”
“No we’re not,” he says firmly. “You’re just shutting me down because you don’t want to talk about it. I’ve had five years to prepare what I would say to you if I saw you again. You’re telling me you haven’t?”
“Of course I have,” Noelle tips her head back. “But also, what’s the point?”
“The point, is that I still love you.”
“Fuck you,” she says in a strained voice. “You can’t just-you can’t just throw that shit out there. Fuck you.”
He bites his lip, and to her annoyance, he laughs. But she listens more carefully, and it sounds very self deprecating. “I deserved that.”
“Yeah,” Noelle looks down at her feet. “So…what? You still love me?”
“I do.”
“And what are you going to do about that?”
“What are you going to let me do?”
“I live in Brooklyn.”
“I know,” she whips her head up. Jeremy looks sheepish, which she didn’t even think was something he knew how to do. “Seth mentioned it when we caught up a bit ago. I also still follow you on Instagram.”
She tries again. “It’s been five years.”
“And I’m here sitting with you and still feel the exact same way I did back then. Even more, to be honest.” He eyes her pointedly. “Any more excuses?”
Her voice softens. “You really hurt me.”
“I know. And I’m so sorry, Noelle.”
“I hurt you too.”
He shrugs. “We were young and stupid.”
“And we’re still not?” Noelle says with a snort before swallowing. “I’m not the same person you fell in love with.”
“I’m sure I’m not either. But I don’t know if there’s a world where I don’t love every version of you.”
“Even after reading the book?”
“Especially after reading the book,” he sighs. “Noelle, I know this is unfair of me. All of this. And I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to reach out. But I always intended to. And then you’re here? And I see you twice in two days? I’d be an idiot to not try. More of an idiot than I am, anyways.”
“Try for what?”
“A second chance? To be friends? Whatever you want.” He suddenly deflates. “Even if you don’t want anything to do with me. At least I’ll know.”
“Why did you never text me?”
“I thought about it a lot,” he admits. “I tried once, actually, after the high of a really good win. But it didn’t go through. I got the message.”
“The message?”
“You blocked me, right?”
Oh. “Yeah,” she lies. “I did.” She reaches into her bag for a pen and gestures for the book, which he gives to her, a curious gleam in his eyes. “I’m in Boston for two more days, including today.”
He takes the hint immediately. Eagerly. “I have a game tonight, but I’m free tomorrow.”
“Who are you guys playing?”
“Toronto. And I’m starting. Should be a good one.”
She hums non-committedly, scribbling on the inside of the front cover. She hands it back to him with a small, close-lipped smile. She nods at him to read the message.
to my first fan,
i still love you too.
xxx-xxx-xxxx
yours,
noelle
He looks up, eyes shining but a bit confused.
“I never blocked you. I just changed my number.”
“Oh.”
“And even if I still love you, I’m still mad at you.”
“I know. I’d be more surprised if you weren’t.”
She stands up, adjusting the bag on her shoulder and putting her sunglasses on. “Text me?”
His mouth splits wide into a grin. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”
She backs away with one last attempt at a smile before turning down the street.
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Misunderstanding | Kim Taehyung
a/n: I'm so bad with titles lol. At least you get the idea a bit :). In one part it is mentioned that Y/N is not a public figure like Taehyung, even though she is a chaebol. This is because her family is somewhat like that of Samsung's owners, they keep their children's identities secret until they make their own place in the company.
Summary: It's basically your reaction to hearing about the dating rumours between Taehyung and Jennie while the two of you are still in a relationship. And obviously, he is trying to fix things as quickly as possible.
wc: 2.9k (I didn't think it would be so long honestly).
When you started dating Taehyung, you never thought it would be a big problem. You knew that his schedule was complicated, but you didn't have any drama with that because yours was pretty much the same. You also knew that you wouldn't be a public couple because of the criticism you might get, but that was even better for you because you didn't like being in the public eye either. Problems on tour? Phones were there for a reason, not being able to have children? You were too young, can’t go out in public? Loved the cozy, private dates, little quality time together? Even better! Every moment with him would feel even more special because of how exclusive it was. Yes, you were willing to accept all these disadvantages because you never saw them as an insurmountable problem. At least until now.
You and Taehyung started dating in 2020, during the pandemic. You met him at the concert in cooperation with Lotte Duty Free, one of the companies your father founded, because yes, you were the youngest daughter of the Shin, the family in charge of the Lotte company and all its subsidiaries.
The two of you got along very well while preparing for the concert, so you decided to exchange numbers to keep in touch. It only took a few months before you started dating him officially, and you were very happy at first.
His schedule was busy, of course, but he had time for you. He would greet you with a big smile, hug you from behind, and take you to the dining room where he had a whole show set up for you. Jazz in the background, scented candles, rose petals everywhere, and two plates of food of dubious origin that you would enjoy anyway because your boyfriend made it.
You were willing to put up with all those cons if he gave you moments like this every chance he got, moments where it was just you and him.
Once the pandemic was over and your schedule returned to normal, things got complicated.
And no, time, work, dating, none of that was the problem, because it didn't even have anything to do with you two as a couple.The problems were caused by a third person. Kim Jennie, one of the members of Blackpink and one of the most beautiful women you will ever meet.
You never had any problems with her. You had bumped into her once or twice in the hallway on your way backstage, but obviously she wouldn't recognize you, you were always covered from head to toe.You thought that your friend had the same relationship with her, something casual that couldn't even be called a friendship because you barely said hello to each other when you were together, in fact Taehyung never looked at anyone when he was with you.So why did this happen now?
Your boyfriend was on tour and it was the time of his concert, so you couldn't just call him and ask him about it. You looked at the screen of your cell phone for the sixth time, the headline in big, dark letters seemed to mock your feelings.
"Dispatch confirms, V of BTS and Jennie of Blackpink are in a relationship," you muttered to yourself, trying to get your brain to catch the words, to process them, to react. It didn't.
You scrolled down the page until you stopped at the myriad of photos they had as proof. None of them looked doctored.
You saw the blue short-sleeved shirt with flowers that Taehyung was wearing in the photo and put your phone down to go to the closet you shared. You pulled out all of his clothes until you found it. You grabbed it and crumpled it in your hands.
Only then did you burst into tears. You covered your eyes with your shirt and screamed until you felt your throat couldn't take it anymore. Your heart hurt so much that you even had trouble breathing.
You looked around the room you both shared, trying to understand why he would do this to you. You thought you were fine, everything seemed fine, so why were there hundreds of videos and pictures of your boyfriend with another girl? You felt like all these people were making fun of you by being happy for them. What about you, why don't they think about his real girlfriend who had to put up with years of being locked away in secret while these two were fearlessly dating?
The sadness soon turned to anger, and it wasn't long before you got up and grabbed the biggest suitcase you could find, whether it was his or yours.
You stuffed it with as many clothes as you could, taking your time because you knew he wasn't coming. You lifted the suitcase as high as you could and carried it into the living room. You looked at every single picture of the two of you as a couple. Another few tears fell from your eyes and you let them out as you took the frames and threw them away.
You threw out everything you could. Mugs, matching pajamas, pictures, rings, absolutely everything. When you were done, your eyes were dry and your head hurt too much, but you didn't care. You grabbed your suitcase and headed for the door.
The only thing that stopped you from leaving was Yeontan, who stood in the doorway, staring at you while wagging his tail from side to side.
"Tannie, mommy has to go do something, okay?" you nuzzled behind his ear and sobbed softly. You knew he wouldn't understand. "Don't worry, I'll visit you every day until your owner comes."
You stood up, took a breath, and walked away. You didn't know where you were going, but that apartment was no longer an option.
You stood in front of the buildings where you lived and watched for taxis to pass by. Just then you received a phone call. For a moment you thought it would be Taehyung, but no, it was just Jimin's girlfriend, Soyeon, to whom you had become very close over the past years.
"Yes?" you mumbled hoarsely.
"Honey, it's me, Soyeonie," she said in a much calmer voice than usual. She was probably aware of your situation. "I read the news, are you okay?" You opened your mouth to reply, but she interrupted you so quickly that you didn't have time to say anything, "Of course you're not," she sighed, remaining silent for a few seconds, "Look, I know maybe I shouldn't pry, but I understand that you're hurting and the last thing you want is to be in a place full of... him."
You sob softly, wiping your cheeks as quickly as the first tears came.
"I haven't sold my old apartment yet, it has some furniture, enough to live decently, why don't you stay there for a few weeks?"
"Soyeon-ah," you cried, wanting to hug her until you fell asleep. That's what you needed, a long nap.
"Relax, everything’s gonna be okay, Unnie will come and see you there, I'll send you the address, just wait."
"Okay," you nodded, even though you knew she couldn't see you, "thanks."
"It's nothing."
And she hung up.
You looked around. It was full of cars and buildings that looked too big.
You felt so stupid as you mentally wished that Taehyung was here to comfort you.
You saw a taxi coming your way and you made it stop. You weren't sure if this would be the end of your relationship, you were willing to hear his side, but you weren't willing to have to live with him or a place filled with his presence.
This was best for you.
Taehyung called you the next day, about twenty times, not counting messages. You didn't answer any of them, mostly because you were asleep until 4 pm. You had a hard time falling asleep. Every time you closed your eyes, you could see the two of them holding hands, together in the car, on a date to some kind of zoo. You cried every time your brain projected those images.
Your phone rang for the 21st time. You were still a little groggy from sleep, but you answered it anyway.
"Y/N!" You turned the phone away from your ear. It was too painful to hear his voice so loud with the headache you were feeling, "Oh God, I was so afraid something bad had happened to you. I called the girls, but none of them knew anything about you, so I got worried and..."
"Why did you call me?" you asked curtly. You thought maybe you were being a little cruel, but you didn't care. Answering him like that wouldn't make him feel a thousandth of the pain you felt and still feel since last night.
He was silent for a few seconds. You'd never answered him like that before, you guessed that's why he was so quiet.
"I..." he cleared his throat, sounding a little more tense than when you answered him, "I was a little worried, my manager told me about the news and I thought maybe you were feeling a little depressed-".
You interrupted him again, but this time with a mocking laugh, "A little depressed? Is that how you think I felt? A little depressed?" you laughed again. You had completely woken up this time, "Tell me, Kim, how would you feel if overnight it was all over the news that I was dating an idol? Huh? What would you do if this news came to you on the fucking Dispatch, while I was on the other fucking side of the world enjoying a concert? Would you be a little depressed? A little hurt? Would you even have taken the fucking trouble to answer my calls?" you began to raise your voice with every word you said. You didn't even notice at what point your voice broke. "You have no idea what I'm going through, and you never will, because unlike you I'm not a public figure! I could be fucking any man in Korea and you're never going to see an internet media outlet post it and 'celebrate' my relationship, you're never going to see any fan of mine go on social media and celebrate my relationship with someone else while you're behind the curtains" You sobbed, wiping your cheeks awkwardly.
"Honey, I know it's-"
"Don't you dare call me like that" you growled, clenching your jaw, "I don't even want to hear you say my name, do you understand?"
"Y/N" he muttered, his voice trembling. You assumed that at some point in your verbal vomit he had started to cry, "Just give me 1 minute, I'll explain everything, I promise."
You tried to control your anger by taking a big breath of air, it worked enough to stop you from sending him to fuck off... for the second time.
"Do you want me to listen to you?" you mumble, looking down at your hands, remembering all the times he came home late, wondering if all those times he was at her house, doing god knows what while you tried to stay awake just to see him before bed.
"Y-yes, please, I just need a minute".
"Fine," you smiled half-heartedly, "then come and explain it to me in person. If you're really sorry and say it's a misunderstanding, come here and tell me."
Your more conscientious side chided you for your request. It was his job, you couldn't just order him to make a trip from the United States to Korea just for you. Maybe that's why you gave him that condition. You knew he wouldn't come all this way just for you.
The line went silent, you could barely hear his breathing. You ended your conversation.
"I thought so," muttering much calmer than at the beginning, "I guess Soyeon was right in saying that the only one who would have to make sacrifices for our relationship would be me."
And you cut the call short.
You put your phone on airplane mode and plopped down on your bed, ready to go back to sleep for the rest of the weekend.
It had been a day since you heard the news, barely 17 hours since you last spoke to Taehyung, because yes, you counted the hours. You hadn't eaten anything, you'd barely had a glass of water, and the only thing you felt like doing right now was taking a very long shower and then crying yourself to sleep. Yes, it sounded like the perfect plan to try to get over your ex, if that's what you could call it.
You got in the tub at 10am, didn't get out until 12:30, and when you did you could barely feel your fingers and toes. At least your muscles had finally relaxed.
You dressed more slowly than usual, in just your pajamas, the only ones that weren't your partner's, and went to bed.
Until the doorbell rang.
You changed direction, confused. You were sure that no one besides Soyeon knew you were here. It crossed your mind that maybe she was worried about you and that's why you'd decided to open up and politely turn her away.
Except she wasn't the one waiting for you on the other side.
"Y/N," Taehyung said, trying to regulate his breathing. "You really were here," he whispered, entering the flat and closing behind him. It wasn't until the door rattled that his arms wrapped around you so tightly that you almost stopped breathing. "Why did you leave home? I got so worried when I saw our stuff in the trash and the wardrobe almost empty" he cupped your cheeks, inspecting your face.
You didn't understand what exactly was going on.
"What are you doing here?" you mumbled, letting him search your face.
"You told me to come" he looked into your eyes and, almost instantly, his eyes began to fill with tears. "I couldn't let you because a misunderstanding made you hate me to the point of breaking up with me, I... I don't want to be without you, at this point I don't think I can be," he bent down until he could place his forehead against yours, his thumbs caressing the skin of your cheeks, "You're the best thing that ever happened to me, I don't plan on losing you over something stupid like this."
You looked at Taehyung, still not understanding what he was trying to say.
"The pictures are real" he exhaled deeply, "but it's not like you think" he pulled his phone out of his trousers pocket. His hands were shaking slightly. You wanted to hold them, but you completely erased the thought, "We dated for a few months, it was a very short thing, about two or three months before we met".
He showed you some conversations from a few years ago. He was asking her to bring him the shoes he had left at her house last time, and that he would appreciate it if she would bring the leash they had bought Yeontan. You also saw the last messages they sent to each other, it was only a few days ago.
Jennie told him that someone had hacked into her phone and most likely found the pictures they took the time they went to the zoo. She apologized and sent him stickers of crying puppies, saying that the lawsuit against the hacker had already started and that she would try to speed up the process so that he wouldn't be affected.
"I totally understand how angry you were, and obviously I also understand that you want to talk about this face-to-face, so I took the first flight I could find so I could come talk to you and-".
You didn't let him finish. You couldn't do that, not after everything you've been feeling the last few days. So you did the only thing you could think of since he came into the flat. You kissed him.
It was much more awkward than your kisses usually are, but you didn't care. You were so relieved that it was all a misunderstanding that no matter what kind of kiss it was, it would still be amazing to you.
He followed your kiss as soon as he came out of his surprise. He clung to you as if his life depended on it. He was the one who deepened the kiss and lifted you off the floor so he could kiss you better.
"I'm so sorry" you whispered in the middle of the messy kisses he was giving you, "sorry for doubting you" you sobbed softly, hugging his neck with all your strength.
He shook his head, holding your cheeks, "Don't apologise, it was a normal reaction, you said it yourself, I wouldn't have even answered your calls if I had been in your place" he kissed your shoulder softly, letting out a soft sigh. It felt so good to have you with him after all the tension he experienced during the flight.
"You were right about everything you said" he murmured, pulling away enough to look you in the eye, "so please don't apologize to me".
You nodded a little calmer, closing your eyes as you felt Taehyung's nose on yours.
"Now let's go get your things, I don't want to go back inside the house and not see your things in it."
Masterlist.
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