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Jeonghan X Reader - Blog Posts

lelestarmy

11 months ago

Seungcheol

Jeonghan

Joshua

Jun

Hoshi

Wonwoo

Woozi

The8

Mingyu

Drabbles:

Mingyu x reader {a}

DK

Seungkwan

Vernon

Dino

Author Note: Leave a comment or suggestion on who y'all want me to write. Please remember to contribute to my Ko-fi. Every donation makes a real difference! If y'all can't donate to the husky pup fundraiser then just reblog to widen the reach or consider buying me a coffee.

𝜗℘ TALKING TO THE MOON

❛ 𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘶𝘱 𝘮𝘺 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮, 𝘪 𝘴𝘪𝘵 𝘣𝘺 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧— 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘯, 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘯𝘢 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘮 𝘪 𝘢 𝘧𝘰𝘰𝘭 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘯? ❜

timeline: 2018

synopsis: After months of avoidance and awkward interactions, two hearts finally break their barriers, sharing confessions under the moonlight and finding the closure they both desperately needed.

warnings: angst, cursing, crying, arguments, mentions of anxiety, yelling, “i hate you!” (lies), closure, confessions, reconciliation, some heart-wrenching shit, simp!Jeonghan, scared!Luna, heart-to-heart talks, explanations, Yoon Jeonghan will be on his knees… begging, heartfelt, hopeful, somewhat a happy and silly ending, ends with fluff

due to popular demand of more angst here is more of the rejection aftermath. this story takes place after If Only & Can I Be Him? and takes place before His English Love Affair. so i highly recommend reading everything in order to understand. every single one-shot in my blog is arranged in chronological order in the writings masterlist which is linked below👇 happy reading, my loves 🤍🩵

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST ╰ ౨ৎ writings masterlist

Jeonghan is an island.

Not in the literal sense, but in the way he exists.

To him, being an island means standing steady amidst the tide, a constant presence when the waves threaten to overwhelm those around him.

Jeonghan has always seen himself that way— a safe haven for his loved ones, a place they could come to with their burdens and leave feeling just a little lighter.

He takes pride in this role, knowing that if someone he cares about feels lost, they can always find their way back to him. And when they’re ready to leave, to set sail again, he’ll let them go with a quiet smile, no questions asked. He exists as a constant— a refuge, a quiet place to rest before facing the storm again.

Jeonghan has always been that for the people he loves, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. When the members of SEVENTEEN come to him, seeking advice, a listening ear, or simply someone to sit with in silence, Jeonghan is there.

He listens patiently, his eyes fixed on theirs with a quiet intensity that tells them he is fully present. He doesn’t rush to fill the silence with platitudes or fix their problems for them. Instead, he allows them to speak, unraveling their worries, frustrations, and fears as he holds space for them.

More often than not, the members leave those moments with him feeling lighter. They walk away with the weight of their worries softened, bolstered by his quiet reassurances or the practical wisdom he dispenses so naturally.

In their world of relentless schedules and pressure, Jeonghan is their counselor, their confidant, their steady shore.

But no one seeks him out more than Luna.

For as long as Jeonghan could remember, Luna had always gravitated toward him in times of need.

Out of thirteen members, she could have turned to anyone. Each of them was capable in their own way— each a pillar of strength, kindness, and understanding. And yet, time and time again, Luna came to Jeonghan.

It wasn’t because he was the most understanding or the most overtly comforting. It wasn’t because he had all the answers. It was simply because Jeonghan knew how to listen.

He listened in a way that made you feel seen.

Truly seen.

Luna would come to him during her moments of doubt, her voice cracking under the weight of frustration or pain. Sometimes, she would rant about the pressures of their industry, her words tumbling out in rapid succession as she paced the room with clenched fists. Other times, she would sit quietly, her eyes filled with unshed tears, as she shared her fears, her insecurities, and the thoughts that kept her awake at night.

And Jeonghan— he would just listen.

He never judged. Never interrupted. He let her speak until her voice grew hoarse or until she could no longer hold back her tears.

On some occasions, Luna didn’t want advice; she just needed someone to bear witness to her pain, and Jeonghan respected that.

When she didn’t need solutions, he didn’t offer any. He simply sat there, unwavering, his presence a balm to her raw emotions.

On other occasions, Luna would fall apart completely, her sobs breaking through the walls she worked so hard to build. And Jeonghan would be there, his arms wrapping around her as she cried into his chest, clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping her grounded. He’d rest his chin on her head, murmuring soft reassurances or nothing at all, letting her release everything she had bottled up inside. He would hold her until her tears subsided and her breathing evened out, and even then, he wouldn’t let go until she was ready.

Sometimes, when the tears had stopped, Luna would stay in his embrace, her head resting on his shoulder as she whispered, “Thank you.”

Those moments would stick with him long after she left, her gratitude settling in his chest like a warm, lingering weight.

Jeonghan never failed her.

Not once.

Whenever Luna needed him— whether it was for advice, for a hug, or simply for a quiet moment of understanding— he was there, always.

And for him, that was enough. To be her constant, her refuge, her island.

It was a privilege Jeonghan remembered to never take for granted.

He also remembered how Luna had been the first person to offer herself to be his island when he needed it most.

It was years ago, back when they were merely trainees, their dreams raw and fragile, and their bodies pushed to the brink of exhaustion day after day. He was seventeen then, and she was just sixteen, both of them barely holding it together under the immense weight of expectations.

Yet somehow, amidst the chaos of it all, they had found each other.

It was late at night, the kind of late where the world was quiet, and even Seoul seemed to pause and take a breath.

The two of them sat by the Han River, tucked away in a secluded corner where no one would find them. The air was cool but not biting, a gentle breeze carrying the scent of water and earth. The river stretched out before them, dark and glimmering under the moonlight, its surface rippling faintly with the movement of the current. Above them, the sky was a deep navy, scattered with stars that peeked through the haze of city lights.

It was peaceful, the kind of peace that allowed them to simply exist without pretense.

Jeonghan had leaned back on his elbows, his legs stretched out in front of him, watching the water shimmer. Luna sat cross-legged beside him, her chin resting on her knees, her face illuminated by the soft silver glow of the moon. She looked so serene, as if the weight she carried every day had been momentarily lifted, and Jeonghan couldn’t help but feel a small sense of pride that maybe, just maybe, he had helped with that.

They had been talking for hours, their conversation meandering between dreams and struggles, fears and hopes. Luna had shared her frustrations— the grueling hours of practice, the aching muscles that never seemed to heal, the pressure to prove herself in a room full of talent. She had spoken about her fear of failure, of being left behind, and Jeonghan had listened quietly, nodding when appropriate, offering a few words of comfort when needed.

And then, when she had finally fallen silent, Jeonghan had spoken softly, his voice carrying the kind of weight that came from someone who understood exactly what she was going through.

“Nana-ya,” he said, his gaze still fixed on the river, “if it ever gets too much… you can come to me, you know? Just like this.”

She turned her head to look at him, her eyes wide and curious.

“I mean it,” he continued, his voice firm but gentle. “If you’re ever feeling overwhelmed, if you just need a break… I’ll be your island. A place to rest.”

Luna blinked at him, her expression softening as his words sank in. “An island?” she repeated, a small, amused smile tugging at her lips.

“Yeah,” Jeonghan replied, sitting up now and turning to face her. “An island. Somewhere you can come to when you need to escape. No judgment, no pressure. You can tell me all your worries or you can just… rest. And when you’re ready, you can leave and come back whenever you want.”

Luna looked at him for a long moment, her eyes searching his face as if she were trying to memorize every detail. Then, she tilted her head slightly, her smile widening.

“But what about you?”

Jeonghan frowned, confused. “What about me?”

Luna’s gaze didn’t waver. “Who’s going to be your island, Hannie?”

The question caught him off guard.

No one had ever asked him that before.

Jeonghan stared at her, his lips parting slightly as he struggled to find an answer. But before he could say anything, Luna leaned closer, her voice soft but certain.

“I can be your island, Hannie.”

Jeonghan froze, his heart skipping a beat as he stared at her.

Luna was looking at him with such earnestness, her smile so warm and genuine that it made his chest ache. The moonlight framed her face, highlighting the delicate curve of her jaw, the faint blush on her cheeks, and the gentle sparkle in her eyes. She looked like a dream, so achingly beautiful that it took everything in him not to reach out and brush a strand of hair from her face. The moonlight softened her features, illuminating her skin with a silver glow, and he found himself thinking that she had never looked more beautiful than she did in this moment of quiet contemplation.

In that moment, seventeen-year-old Jeonghan knew.

He had known since the first time he saw her that he had a crush on her— how could he not? Every trainee did.

But now, as she sat there offering herself to him in a way no one else ever had, he realized it was so much more than a crush. It was something deeper, something that made his heart feel too big for his chest and his thoughts spiral in directions he couldn’t control.

And yet, he shook his head mentally, pushing the thought away before it could consume him. Instead, he let a teasing smile curl on his lips.

“Island, huh?” he said, his tone light and playful. “You’re going to have to come up with a new term, Nana-ya. Island is mine. I’m trademarking it.”

Luna rolled her eyes, her laugh soft but genuine. “Alright, fine,” she replied, her voice tinged with amusement. “I’ll think of something else.”

They chuckled together, the sound mingling with the gentle lapping of the water against the riverbank. Slowly, their laughter faded, leaving behind a comfortable silence that felt as natural as breathing.

Luna tilted her head back, her gaze fixed on the moon hanging high above them, its pale light casting a soft glow over the world.

Jeonghan, however, didn’t look at the moon.

He couldn’t.

Because the moon was sitting right next to him.

Jeonghan let the comfortable silence stretch between them.

The sound of the river’s quiet ripples filled the air, mingling with the distant hum of the city. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

“Han?”

Her voice broke the silence, soft but deliberate.

Jeonghan hummed in acknowledgment, his head tilting slightly toward her.

“You know what I’m named after, right?” she asked, finally turning to face him.

Jeonghan nodded without hesitation, his lips curving into a faint smile. “The moon.”

Luna’s grin widened as she nodded in return, impressed by his certainty. Of course, he remembered— she had told him once, during one of their late-night conversations in the practice room, how her mother had chosen her name because of her fascination with the moon.

“My mom is weirdly obsessed with the moon,” Luna chuckled, turning back to gaze at it. Her voice was light, but there was a warmth to it, a fondness that Jeonghan could hear clearly.

Jeonghan stayed quiet, watching her from behind. He didn’t interrupt; he knew she was building toward something.

“She used to tell me that when she was younger, she’d talk to the moon about her worries and her problems.

“Talk to it?” Jeonghan asked, his tone laced with curiosity but devoid of judgment.

“Not out loud,” Luna explained, gesturing with her hands as if trying to clarify. “More like… mentally, you know? Just looking up at it and mentally speaking to it. Does that make sense?”

Jeonghan’s lips twitched upward, his gaze never leaving her animated expression as she spoke. “It does,” he said simply, his voice carrying a hint of admiration. “Her heart speaks to it.”

Luna paused, her hands falling to her lap as she turned to look at him. Her wide eyes shimmered with surprise, as if she hadn’t expected him to understand so easily.

Most people laughed or dismissed the story as strange, but not Jeonghan.

Never Jeonghan. He always understood.

“Yes,” she said softly, her voice almost a whisper. She smiled, small and appreciative, and for a moment, she felt her heart skip a beat. Then, as if shaking herself out of her thoughts, she laughed lightly. “Anyway, sometimes I like to do that too. Just stare at the moon and… mentally talk to it. It’s comforting. So maybe you can do that too.”

Jeonghan tilted his head slightly, his gaze unwavering as he watched her. “Talk to the moon?” he mused, his tone teasing but thoughtful.

“Yeah,” Luna nodded, her smile growing.

They fell into silence again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Jeonghan continued to admire her in quiet fascination, while Luna seemed lost in her own world, her gaze fixed on the moon above.

Then she giggled, her laughter light and airy, breaking the stillness. “There are even stories and myths about the man in the moon,” she said with a smirk, turning to face him.

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “The man in the moon? You mean the little boy fishing?”

Luna blinked at him, her brow furrowing in confusion.

It took her a moment before realization dawned, and she burst out laughing. “That’s the ‘DreamWorks’ intro! Not that!”

Jeonghan smirked at her, his expression playful. “No? You and your mom aren’t talking to a little boy fishing in the moon?”

Luna scrunched her nose at him, pretending to pout as she glared. But her mock annoyance quickly melted into giggles. “No, silly,” she said, rolling her eyes as she shifted closer, lying down beside him. She rested her head against his outstretched arm, her body relaxing into his warmth.

She pointed toward the moon, her finger tracing invisible patterns in the sky. “They call it ‘the man in the moon’ because sometimes, if you look closely, it looks like it has a face. See?”

Jeonghan followed the direction of her finger, his eyes narrowing slightly as he focused on the craters. “Hmm,” he said after a moment. “It does.”

“See?” Luna said again, her voice tinged with pride. She turned to him with a triumphant smile. “So instead of an island, you can talk to the moon.”

Jeonghan’s eyes softened as they met hers, a small smile playing on his lips. “I already do talk to my moon.”

Luna’s brows furrowed, her head tilting in confusion. “Your moon?” she echoed. “You do? What do you tell it?”

“You tell me,” Jeonghan said, his voice lowering ever so slightly. He finally looked down at her, their faces inches apart, his gaze steady and unwavering. “You’re the only moon I talk to.”

Luna’s breath hitched. Her cheeks flushed a deep red as his words settled in, her heart thudding against her ribcage. But she didn’t say anything, her lips curving into a soft smile instead.

That moment of silence carried a weight to it, one filled with unspoken understanding.

And from then on, Jeonghan’s favorite nickname for her was born.

His moon.

His pretty moon.

From the moment under the moonlight at Han River, Jeonghan and Luna had unknowingly started a tradition— one that became their sanctuary amidst the chaos of their lives.

It began innocently, born from that night when a seventeen-year-old Jeonghan and a sixteen-year-old Luna shared their hearts under the stars.

Whenever the weight of their training bore down on them, they’d find themselves wandering back to that secluded spot by the Han River. It became their unspoken agreement: no matter how tired, how frustrated, or how uncertain they felt about their futures, they’d sit side by side and talk.

They’d talk about everything and nothing.

The worries that festered in their minds, the dreams that seemed just out of reach, the frustrations of not being good enough in their own eyes. Sometimes they’d rant, voices loud and passionate, the river carrying their words away like an invisible confidant. Other times, they’d fall into contemplative silences, punctuated only by the sounds of water lapping at the shore or the rustling of trees in the night breeze.

Even after debuting and becoming idols, Jeonghan and Luna fought to keep this tradition alive.

Their once-frequent visits to Han River dwindled as schedules filled with practices, performances, and public appearances.

But they found ways to adapt.

Instead of sitting by the river, they’d sit on the floor of one of their apartments, cups of tea— or sometimes wine— cradled in their hands as they leaned against the sofa, talking until the early hours of the morning.

When their schedules took them abroad, hotel rooms became their new haven. No matter where they were, Jeonghan and Luna made time for each other when they needed it most.

But everything changed almost a year ago.

Jeonghan hadn’t realized how much he’d come to rely on those late-night talks until they were gone. He hadn’t understood how much Luna’s quiet wisdom and steady presence meant to him until he lost it.

The last time they had one of their late-night conversations was a night that Jeonghan replayed in his mind more often than he cared to admit.

It had started like all the others— a quiet moment after a long day, a bottle of wine between them, and an unspoken understanding that they were each other’s safe space. But that night had taken an unexpected turn when Luna, cheeks flushed and words slightly slurred, had confessed her feelings for him.

“You make me feel things,” she had said, her voice barely above a whisper but heavy with emotion. “And I hate it.”

Jeonghan had been stunned, caught completely off guard. For a moment, he didn’t know what to say. But the sincerity in her eyes, the vulnerability in her expression, made him painfully aware of the weight of his next words.

He had declined her feelings a few days after— not out of malice, but because he was scared, it was risky. Also because he wasn’t sure he could be what she deserved at that moment. Before he had the opportunity to tell her as much, Luna brushed it off and dashed out the elevator, his heart aching at the way her face fell.

Since then, everything between them had changed.

The awkwardness was subtle at first, but it grew with time. Their once-effortless conversations became stilted, filled with polite exchanges that lacked their usual warmth. When they were alone, the silences between them were no longer comfortable but heavy with unspoken words.

Even in group settings, Jeonghan felt the shift. Luna would exchange a few words with him here and there, but she gravitated toward Mingyu more and more.

It hadn’t taken Jeonghan long to notice the way Mingyu had become Luna’s confidant. He saw how Mingyu stayed by her side, offering her the support that Jeonghan no longer could. And while a part of him was relieved that she had someone to lean on, another part of him couldn’t ignore the pang of jealousy that crept into his chest whenever he saw them together.

So, Jeonghan gave her the space she seemed to want. He told himself it was for the best, that she deserved to heal in her own way and in her own time. He respected her boundaries, even though it meant losing the one person who had always been his island… his moon.

Now, as he sat alone in his apartment, the memories of those late-night talks played in his mind like scenes from a movie. He could still hear the sound of her laughter, see the way her eyes lit up when she spoke about something she was passionate about.

He could still feel the comfort of her presence, the way she always knew what to say to ease his mind.

And Jeonghan missed her.

He missed his moon.

Jeonghan sat on his couch, the glow from the city lights spilling through the window casting faint patterns across his living room. His mind churned endlessly, cycling through the same thoughts that had been haunting him for months now.

No matter how much he tried to shake them off, they persisted. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and sighed deeply, raking a hand through his hair.

His gaze drifted to the moonlit sky outside, and without realizing it, his mind wandered back to that first late-night talk at the Han River with Luna.

It was so many years ago, yet the memory was so vivid it felt like it had happened yesterday. He remembered the way the moonlight reflected on the water, how their quiet voices had melded with the soft sound of the current. He could almost hear her voice again, playful yet serious, telling him to talk to the moon when he’s struggling.

Jeonghan leaned back against the couch, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. If he was honest, he’d never taken her advice— not because he thought it was foolish, but because he never needed to.

Why talk to the moon when he’d always had her?

Whenever he was drowning in worries or self-doubt, Luna had been his island. His anchor. His moon. The one person who understood him without him having to explain.

But now, with a gulf between them that felt impossible to cross, her advice suddenly didn’t seem so silly.

So for the past few months Jeonghan has been looking up at the moon, watching it as he mentally cried his heart out.

Tonight was no different. But tonight something was pulling him to talk to the moon somewhere else.

With that, Jeonghan stood up. He grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair and reached for his car keys on the counter. His decision felt impulsive but right, like this was exactly what he needed to do.

Han River, the sanctuary they had shared so many times. But this time, he’d be going alone.

As he stepped into the hallway, the familiar sound of a door closing echoed from just beside his own. He froze, the keys in his hand jangling softly, and turned his head toward the apartment next to his. His breath hitched as Luna emerged, bundled in an oversized jacket, her own car keys clutched in her hand. She was locking her door, her movements deliberate yet distracted.

When Luna finally looked up, her gaze met his, and they both froze.

For a moment, neither of them said a word. It was as if time had slowed, the hallway shrinking to just the two of them.

It wasn’t like they hadn’t seen each other earlier that day— they’d been side by side for a team photoshoot, exchanging polite but distant words.

Yet, this moment felt different.

Charged.

Jeonghan’s first thought was that the universe must have grown tired of watching them avoid each other.

As cliché as it was— there was no other explanation.

This had to be fate’s way of giving them a nudge— a forceful push, really.

Luna blinked, breaking the spell, but her surprise was evident. Jeonghan noticed the way her fingers tightened briefly on her keys, her lips parting as though she wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

Instead, they just stared at each other, a strange understanding passing between them.

Because in that instant, they both knew.

They didn’t need to ask where the other was going. They already knew the answer.

Han River.

Luna was the first to glance away, her cheeks faintly pink under the hallway’s dim lighting. She shifted her weight awkwardly, clutching her keys tighter as if that would ground her.

Jeonghan, however, stayed rooted, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. After a beat of silence, he extended his hand toward her.

“Come on,” he said softly, his voice low but steady.

Luna’s eyes flicked to his hand, then back to his face, searching for something in his expression. His gaze was calm, open, almost expectant. After a pause that felt much longer than it really was, she reached out and slid her hand into his. Her fingers were cold against his warmth, and something unspoken passed between them as Jeonghan gently guided her toward the elevator.

The ride down was quiet. Not awkward, but not entirely comfortable either. It was a silence that carried acceptance— an understanding that neither of them could put into words just yet.

The elevator’s soft hum filled the space as they stood side by side, their hands still loosely linked. Jeonghan glanced at their joined hands briefly before looking ahead, lost in thought.

It was ironic, he thought, how the last time they were in this elevator alone, everything had changed.

Almost a year ago, Luna had laid her heart bare, only for him to gently decline.

That night had been a turning point, one that neither of them could ignore, no matter how much they tried to move on. And now, here they were again, in the same space but under entirely different circumstances.

Jeonghan didn’t miss the symmetry of it, nor the weight of what tonight could mean.

For both of them, this was the night to finally talk. To lay everything out in the open. It was either the start of mending what had been broken or the final thread that would unravel everything completely.

Jeonghan silently hoped— prayed— it would be the former.

He didn’t look at Luna, but he could feel her presence beside him, her quiet breathing grounding him.

And though neither of them spoke, he knew she was thinking the same thing.

Soon Jeonghan was driving them to Han River.

The car ride was steeped in silence, the kind that carried its own weight yet wasn’t entirely unbearable. Jeonghan kept his hands on the steering wheel, his eyes focused on the road ahead, while Luna sat in the passenger seat, her head resting lightly against the window.

The hum of the engine filled the space, accompanied by the soft tunes of the radio playing in the background. The music— a blend of mellow piano and soft vocals— felt like a balm, easing the tension between them, though neither of them acknowledged it.

The thirty-minute drive stretched on, both of them lost in their thoughts.

Jeonghan occasionally glanced at Luna from the corner of his eye, noting how her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sweater. He wanted to say something, anything, to break the silence, but every time he opened his mouth, the words seemed to falter before they could form. So instead, he let the music fill the gaps, hoping it was enough to make the quiet less suffocating.

When they finally arrived at the Han River, Jeonghan pulled into their usual spot. It was secluded, a little pocket of peace away from the bustling city— a place that had become theirs over the years. He turned off the car and stepped out, the crisp night air biting at his skin.

Without a word, he walked to the passenger side and opened her door. Luna blinked up at him, momentarily startled, but she accepted his silent gesture, stepping out into the cool night.

From then on it was like clockwork.

Jeonghan made his way to the trunk, where he pulled out a blanket. It was old and slightly worn but soft, and it had lived in his car for years —just for nights like this. Draping it over one arm, he turned back to Luna, intertwining his fingers with hers without hesitation. Her hand felt cold in his, but she didn’t pull away. Gently, he guided her down the familiar path to their secluded spot by the riverbank.

Once they reached the spot, Jeonghan spread the blanket out on the grass, smoothing it down with deliberate care.

They both sat down, the sound of the river lapping softly against the shore filling the space between them. Overhead, the sky was clear, stars scattered like tiny diamonds, and the moon hung low and luminous, casting its glow over the water.

For a while, neither of them spoke. They just sat there, side by side, watching the river and the sky in a silence that felt heavier than the one in the car.

Finally, Jeonghan broke it.

“It’s been a while since we’ve been here together,” he said, his voice low but carrying over the stillness of the night. He glanced sideways at her. “You still come here often?”

Luna turned to him, slightly taken aback by his casual tone. She studied his profile for a moment before answering. “Not as much lately,” she admitted, her voice softer now. “It hasn’t felt… the same.”

Jeonghan nodded in understanding, his gaze fixed on the river. “Yeah. I know.” He paused, a faint smile tugging at his lips as a memory surfaced. He chuckled lightly, the sound breaking through the somber air. “Remember the last time? You were mad at me because I forgot your coffee order, and you swore you’d never trust me with your drinks again.”

Luna raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching into the faintest of smiles. That smile sent a jolt straight to Jeonghan’s heart. She hadn’t smiled at him like that in so long. And he had made it happen. He had.

“You brought me iced coffee in the middle of winter, Han,” she replied dryly, her tone tinged with amusement. “You’re lucky I didn’t throw it at you.”

Jeonghan chuckled, his smile widening as he looked at her. “Right. And then you made me drink it as punishment.”

“I did,” she said with a small nod, her gaze drifting back to the moon.

A brief silence fell over them again, but this one felt different. It wasn’t entirely uncomfortable, but it carried the weight of all the things left unsaid.

Jeonghan shifted slightly, the grass crunching softly beneath him, and his tone grew quieter when he spoke again.

“I didn’t think you’d agree to come with me,” he admitted, his eyes trained on her face now.

Luna sighed softly, her shoulders rising and falling. “I almost didn’t.”

Her words made his chest tighten, but he turned to face her fully. “I’ve missed this,” he said, his voice earnest. “I’ve missed you. I missed us… Jiyeon-ah, I—”

“Please,” Luna interrupted with a soft sigh, shaking her head. “You don’t have to apologize.”

Jeonghan frowned slightly, his brows drawing together. “No, you’re right,” he said after a moment, his tone steady. “I don’t have to apologize… I need to apologize.”

He met her gaze, his eyes searching hers. “I’m sorry. For everything. For hurting you. For that night… for lying that night.”

Luna looked away before he could continue, her voice low as she said, “Are you sorry because you hurt me, or is it because you don’t feel the same about me?” Her voice softened even further, though her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she continued. “Han, I forgave you already that night in the elevator. I was hurt, yes, but I understood. I just needed space. I never blamed you for not liking—”

“Ya… Bae Jiyeon, stop. Just stop.” Jeonghan’s voice was firm now, his tone cutting her off sharply. He turned to her fully, his eyes blazing with frustration and something else—something deeper. “First of all, stop saying I don’t like you. That’s not true. Not even in the slightest. And stop it with the calm, good girl act you force yourself to be. I know you more than anyone. I need you to be angry. Be angry at me. Yell at me. Fuck, slap me in the face for hurting you and making you cry! Don’t pretend you’re okay, because I know damn well you’re not!”

Luna’s head snapped up, her eyes locking with his for more than a few seconds, truly and deeply looking at him for the first time since they had caught each other outside their apartments earlier. Her eyes were red, tears welling up and threatening to spill over.

Jeonghan read her like an open book, every emotion she had tried so desperately to hide laid bare before him. And he knew— he knew— that she was lying to herself, trying to shove everything under the rug and pretend it didn’t matter.

But it did.

And it was hurting her.

Jeonghan’s heart clenched as he watched her, knowing this moment was long overdue.

Luna had been bottling up her pain for far too long.

She needed to let it out— now.

Luna’s hands trembled as she clenched them into fists at her sides, her entire body taut with the emotions she had suppressed for so long. For a brief moment, Jeonghan thought she might hold it in again, that she’d swallow the words she desperately needed to say and give him the same composed facade she always wore.

But then, her lips parted, and the dam broke.

“You want me mad?” Luna’s voice came out sharp, her tone cutting through the stillness like a blade. “You want me to scream and cry? You want me to tell you the truth? Fine!” Her voice rose, trembling slightly as her emotions began spilling out. “What do you want me to say, huh, Jeonghan? Do you want me to tell you how you’ve had me wrapped around your stupid finger since the fucking beginning?”

Jeonghan’s breath caught, but he stayed silent, letting her continue.

“Do you want me to tell you how the second you introduced yourself to me, I knew— I knew— that I needed you in my life? How every single night, I beat myself up trying to forget about my feelings for you because I couldn’t risk it? I couldn’t risk our friendship, the group, our careers, the guys’ careers! Do you want me to tell you how my heart hurts— no, how it shatters— every time you get linked with someone else, rumored with women you barely even know? And do you know what’s worse? I have no right to feel that way! None! Yet… fuck! I still do!”

Her voice cracked, but she pushed forward, her words gaining momentum as tears began to glisten in her eyes.

“Do you want to know how I cried to my mom on the phone, begging her to help me like I was a child because my heart wouldn’t stop pounding after you kissed me on the cheek for the first time when we were trainees? A stupid, innocent kiss! It was nothing to you, but it meant everything to me!”

Jeonghan’s heart squeezed painfully in his chest, guilt twisting like a knife as her voice started to tremble.

“Do you want me to tell you how much you make me feel? How much I love the way you make me feel so special, so loved, so pretty? And how much I hate it? How much I hate how I love it, because it’s you! It you, Yoon Jeonghan! It’s you who makes me feel like that, and it’s you who made me feel like I was nothing that night!”

Her voice broke, and the tears finally spilled over, streaming down her cheeks. She wiped at them furiously, but it was no use— they just kept coming.

“I cried myself to sleep on the floor of my apartment after you rejected me,” she admitted, her voice now raw and unsteady, her breath hitching between words. “The floor, Jeonghan. I couldn’t even make it to my bed because I thought I’d suffocate under the weight of it all.”

Jeonghan’s throat tightened, his hands curling into fists in his lap as he fought the urge to reach out to her, to stop the flood of her pain even though he knew she needed this.

“And do you want to know the worst part?” Luna’s voice dropped to a whisper, trembling with the weight of her confession. She lifted her gaze to meet his, her eyes glistening with tears that reflected the moonlight.

“I hate how much I love you.” Her voice broke completely, and she sobbed openly now, the sound raw and anguished. “I hate it, Jeonghan. I hate how much I love you, and I hate how much it hurts to love you.”

Jeonghan couldn’t stay silent any longer. “Jiyeon—”

“No!” she cut him off, her voice rising again despite her tears. “You wanted this, right? You told me to let it out, so here it is! Here’s the truth, Yoon Jeonghan! I love you, and I hate you for making me love you this much! So much that it physically hurts me! Is that what you wanted to hear? Is that what you—”

Before she could finish, Jeonghan surged forward, wrapping his arms around her trembling frame and pulling her tightly into his chest.

Luna struggled against him, her fists pounding weakly against his chest as she sobbed, her frustration spilling over in the form of muffled cries and anger. “Let go of me! Let me go, Jeonghan!” she cried, her voice muffled against his shirt. “I don’t want— just let me—”

“No,” Jeonghan said firmly, his voice low but steady. He held her tighter, refusing to let her go no matter how much she fought him. “I’m not letting you go, Bae Jiyeon. Not now. Not ever.”

Luna’s struggles slowed, her fists unclenching as she slumped against him, her sobs shaking her entire body. “I hate you. I hate how much I love you,” she whispered brokenly, her words muffled against his chest.

Jeonghan squeezed his eyes shut, his chin resting lightly atop her head as he struggled to keep his composure. His own voice trembled when he spoke, filled with the weight of everything he’d been holding back. “I’m sorry, my moon. I’m so sorry.”

Luna’s cries quieted into broken hiccups as her face remained buried in Jeonghan’s chest, her tears soaking into his shirt as the weight of her pain finally found its release. Her fists, now slack against his shirt, clutched weakly at the fabric as her shoulders trembled. She mumbled against him, her voice muffled yet still laden with hurt.

“You made me feel like I was stupid for even trying,” she whispered, her words cracking under the weight of her emotions. Her chest heaved as she struggled to steady her breath, but her next words came out shakier, weaker. “Like I was crazy for thinking… for hoping…”

A sharp hiccup cut her off, and she dissolved into tears again. Jeonghan’s hand instinctively cradled the back of her head, his fingers threading through her hair in an attempt to soothe her. He sighed deeply, the sound heavy with guilt and sorrow, before murmuring gently, “I know. I know, angel. And I hate myself for it.”

His voice wavered, but he kept his tone steady for her. “I was scared. I didn’t know what to do with how I felt—”

Before he could finish, Luna abruptly pushed herself out of his grip, her hands pressing against his chest until she could create enough distance between them. Her eyes met his, wide and glistening with tears, her cheeks flushed from crying. The vulnerability in her gaze was quickly overtaken by anger, sharp and raw.

“How you felt?” she snapped, her voice rising. “Han, this wasn’t just about you. It’s about me too—about us. Do you even know what it’s like to pour your heart out to someone you’ve loved for years only to have them look at you like it’s all a mistake?”

Her words hit Jeonghan like a slap, and he instinctively shook his head, the motion frantic as if it could erase the idea entirely. “No,” he said quickly, his voice firm yet pleading. “No, Jiyeon. You were never a mistake. I need you to believe that. Please.”

Luna’s lips quivered, her glare unwavering despite the fresh wave of tears brimming in her eyes.

Jeonghan took a deep breath, his own voice trembling as he continued. “I was an idiot. I am an idiot,” he admitted, his shoulders sagging as the truth spilled out of him like a confession. “I… I was scared because you mean so much to me. I told myself it would ruin everything if we tried and failed. I kept convincing myself it was better this way, safer, for both of us. I told myself all these excuses why it wouldn’t work— why I shouldn’t feel the way I feel. But they were just that… excuses. I was a coward, okay? I let my fear control me. And because of that, I hurt you. I hurt us.”

His voice cracked on the last word, and he looked at her with desperate, searching eyes, as if silently begging her to understand.

Luna stared at him for a long moment, her expression etched with a mixture of disbelief and pain. Finally, she shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “Do you think it didn’t terrify me too?”

Jeonghan froze, his breath hitching as she spoke, her voice growing stronger with each word.

“But I still chose to try. Yes I was drunk when i confessed but I never denied it afterwards. I could’ve acted like I didn’t remember what I said but I didn’t,” she continued, her voice breaking again as tears spilled over her lashes. “Because… because loving you felt worth the risk.”

Jeonghan felt his heart shatter at her words, the weight of her pain crashing down on him like a tidal wave. Without thinking, he cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing against her wet cheeks as he tried to catch the tears that kept falling.

“You’re braver than me,” he said softly, his voice full of admiration and regret. “You always have been.”

Luna shook her head furiously, her chest heaving with shallow, uneven breaths. Her hands came up to grip his wrists as if to push him away, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. “I don’t feel brave, Hannie,” she hiccuped, her voice barely audible. “I feel broken.”

Her words tore through Jeonghan like a knife, and he could feel his composure slipping as she finished, her voice raw and trembling.

“You broke me,” she said, her lips quivering as another tear slid down her cheek. “And it hurts.”

Jeonghan froze as her trembling words struck him like a blow. Her tear-streaked face, her voice breaking with pain— every part of her screamed of the hurt he’d caused, and it was unbearable.

Jeonghan shook his head, his voice low but steady, desperate to reach her. “I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to fix it if you’ll let me,” he said, his hands firm yet gentle on her arms. “I’ll undo all the words that hurt you. Just tell me how.”

Luna’s breath hitched, her voice sharp and trembling as she shot back, “What good are words when they always just get in our way, Han?”

Her challenge hung in the air, raw and heavy, but Jeonghan didn’t falter. His brows furrowed as his dark eyes bore into hers, soft yet resolute.

“Because words matter,” he countered firmly, his voice calm and measured. “Words are what brought us to this moment. I said the wrong ones before, but I won’t stop trying until I say the right ones. I can’t give up, Bae Jiyeon. Not on you.”

Her tears continued to fall, and Jeonghan reached forward, brushing the strands of hair that clung to her damp cheeks. His fingers moved slowly, tenderly, as though she were something fragile and sacred. His hands found her face, cradling it, urging her to look up at him even as her gaze flickered uncertainly.

“Show me, my moon,” he whispered, his voice quiet yet pleading, the nickname like a soft caress. “Show me where I hurt you so that I can love you there the most.”

The words were spoken with such raw sincerity, such desperation, that they seemed to wrap around Luna’s heart and squeeze. She released a shaky breath, her eyes fluttering closed as a tear slipped free and traced a path down her cheek.

Her heart— shattered as it was— still managed to beat for him.

It always had.

It always would.

And that scared her more than anything.

“You don’t get to just say that now,” Luna said shakily, her voice cracking as she shook her head, trying to pull away but finding herself unable to. “You don’t get to show up and say everything I’ve been dying to hear after you crushed me.”

Her walls were still up, fragile but standing, and Jeonghan could see her fear, her need to protect herself. But he wasn’t going to let her go. Not this time.

“I told the moon about you, Jiyeonie,” he murmured softly, and the words made her freeze.

Luna let out a broken sob as her head dropped onto his shoulder, her tears soaking into his shirt. Jeonghan didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around her, holding her close as she cried, his hand stroking her back in soothing circles.

“I told the moon about how I wanted to dedicate a song to you after I met you for the first time,” he continued, his voice trembling but unwavering. “I told the moon about how your laugh feels like the answer to every question I didn’t know I was asking. About how you hum to yourself when you think no one is listening, and it’s my favorite sound in the world.”

He gently pulled her head off his shoulder, his hands finding their way to her face again, cupping it as he cradled her, his thumbs brushing away her tears. Her red-rimmed eyes stared into his, her lips trembling as he spoke.

“I told the moon about the way your nose scrunches up when you’re concentrating. About how you never finish a cup of tea but insist on making it anyway because the ritual calms you. I told the moon how you bite your lip when you’re nervous and how it drives me crazy because I want to kiss you every time you do it.”

Luna’s breath hitched, her tears spilling over again as she listened, her heart simultaneously breaking and healing with every word.

“I told the moon about my regrets,” Jeonghan admitted, his voice cracking. “About every time I hurt you, every time I held back because I was too scared to face what I was feeling. I told the moon about how it’s just the hardest thing to love you but not know how. So I spent all my nights in the dark, afraid. Afraid because I tried to forget you, but these things— you— just don’t go away.”

His voice grew softer, more vulnerable. “I hate that you’re so perfect,” he said, his lips curving into the faintest, saddest smile. “So perfect for me… made for me.”

Luna closed her eyes as a fresh wave of tears escaped, her hands coming up to grip his wrists, holding onto him as though she might crumble without the contact.

“The excuses I gave you… none of them mattered,” Jeonghan continued, his voice steadying as he poured his heart out. “Because the truth is, Nana-ya, I love you. I’ve loved you for longer than I can even admit to myself.”

His hands slipped from her face to rest on her shoulders as he leaned closer, his eyes never leaving hers.

“I love you,” he said again, his voice filled with a depth of emotion that made her chest tighten. “I love the way you brighten every room you walk into. I love the way you care for the people around you, how you give so much of yourself even when you have nothing left to give. I love the way you see the world, how you find beauty in places no one else would even think to look.”

He paused, his gaze softening as he added, “I love you, Bae Jiyeon. All of you. The good, the bad, the messy, the beautiful. I love you more than words can ever say, but I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to show you, if you’ll let me.”

Luna’s tears fell freely now, her breath hitching as her hands clutched at his shirt, grounding herself in him. Her walls, the ones she’d fought so hard to keep up, began to crumble, piece by piece, under the weight of his love.

Jeonghan’s voice broke as he continued, his thumb brushing over her cheekbone like he was trying to erase the pain he had caused. “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I need you to know the truth. I pushed you away because I thought I wasn’t good enough for you. I thought you deserved someone who wasn’t going to mess up. But the truth is… the thought of losing you terrified me more than anything else.”

Luna’s breath hitched, her voice trembling as she whispered, “And yet, you still let me go.”

Her eyes opened, glistening with unshed tears as she searched his face, her expression filled with a mixture of heartbreak and disbelief.

Jeonghan swallowed hard, shaking his head almost frantically. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking, okay? I thought I was protecting us, but all I did was hurt you. I can’t take that back, but I can promise you that I’ll never make that mistake again.”

She closed her eyes briefly, her shoulders sagging as though the weight of the past months bore down on her all at once. “I’m scared,” she admitted, her voice barely audible. “I spent so much time these past couple of months convincing myself that maybe… maybe we just weren’t meant to be.”

Jeonghan’s heart clenched painfully in his chest, and he stared at her, shaking his head with conviction. His voice was firm, urgent, as if he could will her to believe him. “No. Don’t say that. Don’t you dare say that, Jiyeon-ah. You’re it for me. You’ve always been it for me. I was just too blind to see it in time.”

He reached for her hands, holding them tightly between his own as his voice softened but lost none of its determination. “Please… please don’t give up on us. Let me prove it to you. Let me prove that I’m not going to hurt you again. I’ll do whatever it takes, Jiyeonie. I’ll wait as long as you need. I’ll fight for us, for you, for our friendship. Just… just don’t shut me out.”

Luna’s fingers trembled as they wrapped around his wrist, her grip weak but steadying as she brought his hand down from her face and held it in her lap. Her voice was soft but resolute, her gaze piercing as she finally met his eyes. “You can’t just fix this overnight, Han. We can’t go back to how things were. If we’re going to try again… we need to fix our friendship first. We were friends first. We need to rebuild what broke before anything else.”

Her words hung in the air between them, weighted with truth and the hope of something new. Jeonghan nodded slowly, his lips pressing into a thin line as he absorbed her words.

Despite the desperation in his heart to hold her close and never let go, he knew she was right.

“I know we can’t go back to the way we were,” he said, his voice steady but tinged with emotion. “And I don’t want to go back. I want to move forward— with you. I’ll be better. We’ll be better. I’ll start wherever you need me to. As friends, as strangers— just tell me how to fix this. I’ll do it. I’ll do anything. I’ll earn your trust back, your love, everything. Just… don’t give up on me.”

Luna exhaled a shaky breath, her fingers tightening around his wrist as her gaze softened. “I’m not giving up on you. I never gave up on you. But this time, it’s going to be on my terms.”

Jeonghan’s lips parted, and he nodded without hesitation, his sincerity clear in every word he spoke. “Your terms, always. I’ll wait. I’ll work for it. Just… thank you for giving me the chance to make this right.”

Luna’s lips curved into a faint, tired smile, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly as she spoke, her voice lighter than before, though still tinged with lingering sadness. “Well, the heart wants what it wants.”

Jeonghan’s breath caught in his throat as he stared at her, his expression one of reverence, like she was the moon and the stars shining down on them, lighting his path. “It does. And mine wants you. Always has, always will.”

He spoke the words with such quiet certainty, his gaze never wavering from hers.

In that moment, the air around them felt still, as though the universe itself had paused to bear witness to the weight of their emotions, the unspoken promises lingering in the space between their hearts.

Jeonghan gently pulled away from Luna, the warmth of his touch lingering on her skin. His lips curved into a teasing smile, the kind that used to infuriate her and had always held the power to disarm her. “I can’t wait to tell the little boy,” he said, his tone light and mischievous.

Luna blinked at him, her brows furrowing in confusion. “What little boy?” she asked, her voice laced with equal parts exasperation and bewilderment.

“The little boy fishing on the moon. The man in the moon, remember?” Jeonghan replied, his grin widening as he referenced the conversation they’d had years ago at the Han River during one of their first late-night talks as trainees.

Luna’s jaw slackened slightly before she snapped it shut, shaking her head. “That’s not– He’s not–” She let out a breath, her shoulders sagging in mock defeat. “You’re an idiot.”

Jeonghan laughed softly, the sound rich and familiar, like a song she hadn’t realized she missed. “I know. We’ve been through this,” he said, the humor in his tone softening into affection as he leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

She didn’t move away, didn’t flinch. Instead, her eyes fluttered shut, savoring the moment before she opened them again and met his gaze.

Despite the magnetic pull between them, the kind that had always existed and only seemed stronger now, they both knew the truth.

They couldn’t rush this, not yet.

The more mature parts of themselves— the ones hardened by heartbreak and regret— understood the importance of rebuilding the foundation of their relationship.

Their friendship was the cornerstone of everything they were to each other, and if they wanted to build something lasting, something unshakable, they had to fix what had been broken first.

Neither of them wanted to wait.

They wanted to dive into each other’s arms, to silence the ache with whispered promises and stolen kisses. But they respected the process, respected each other too much to risk repeating their mistakes.

They had taken the first step tonight, had opened the door to healing by airing their frustrations, their fears, and their truths.

Luna had cried until her chest ached, and Jeonghan had been there to hold her. Jeonghan had confessed his regrets, his love, his hopes, and Luna had listened, her presence steady even as her tears fell. They had yelled, voices raised as years of pent-up emotions spilled out, but even in their anger, there had been a yearning to understand.

They were in love.

That much was clear to both of them now.

But love alone wouldn’t be enough if they didn’t have a solid foundation to stand on.

So, Jeonghan promised to work for it, to make it worth it.

Luna promised to trust the process and let him prove himself.

Even so, in the quiet recesses of their hearts, they both knew that it was only a matter of time before the fire between them ignited even more, before the spark that had always been there became impossible to ignore.

It wasn’t a question of if they would cross that line, but when.

And they both felt, deep down, that the moment would come soon.

The universe, it seemed, had been on their side all along.

The anxiety that had drowned Luna earlier in suffocating waves, the restlessness that had driven her to the Han River in search of solace, had carried her back to her island— Jeonghan.

And Jeonghan, who had sought to talk to the moon to share his frustrations and to make sense of the ache in his chest, had found himself drawn by gravity to his moon— Luna.

As they sat there in the stillness of the night, the city lights twinkling like distant stars, Jeonghan reached for her hand once more, and this time, she didn’t hesitate to take it. Their fingers intertwined, and though the path ahead was uncertain, the warmth in their joined hands was a promise.

Together, they would find their way.

They always do.

For the tides, ruled by the moon, carried Luna from the depths to the island of Jeonghan’s soul.

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