enhypen imagines.

[the only exception]

To love was to hurt.

That was all you've ever known — love is this fickle creature, lures you in and digs its claws into your chest until you can't breathe, bares its teeth as it shatters you into a million fragments and looks you straight in the eye as you struggle to pick up every piece, as if to say, this is your own doing; you tore yourself apart. You knew of the consequences yet you chose me still.

You are tired of trying to piece yourself back into someone that is long gone. Tired of having to convince yourself to look at the world through rose-colored lenses. Tired of having to give your heart into everything you do only to be left empty, biting the dust. You are tired of trying to find the light.

But the rosy-cheeked boy smiling up at the row of magnolia trees in front of you is making you think otherwise.

You know you've sworn off loving as much as you did when you were younger, but something about Sunoo kindles a flame within your chest that you thought had died out long ago; a kind heart with gentle eyes and gentler words, you've tried to root out any sliver of malice weaving through his syllables, anything that could serve as both a warning and a reminder that diving headfirst into love is caressing a bed of thorns — but everything about Sunoo is genuine. He's been broken many times before, and you wonder how he smiles so freely, lies out his heart without a trace of reluctance.

How he manages to be so brave amidst it all.

He knows he might get hurt again, but still he is patient, he does not scorn at the walls you've built around yourself, nor does he break them down nor let himself in, but he waits for you. He'll wait as long as he needs, because he knows that finding love within yourself again isn't easy. He believes in you, and maybe that's enough for you to try again, despite everything.

Your eyes follow Sunoo's figure after snapping a few photos of him beneath swaying magnolia trees, its branches extending out like fingers reaching towards the crystal sky, you feel something prod against the space between your brows, and only then do you realize that they were furrowed almost too tightly. "You look like you're constantly in pain."

You look at him from your place by the bench, and you hold up your camera for him to inspect the photos, but instead he looks at you softly. You sigh and bring a hand up to brush the hair away from his eyes, but your fingers linger on his cheek. Your voice is quiet when it comes out. "Do you ever get tired?"

"Of what?"

You grimace. Of waiting for me.

He knows. Sunoo closes a hand around yours, shakes his head with a knowing smile. "Never. You're always worth the wait."

A blossom of hope. You may not be as strong as you wish you were yet, but you're getting there: slowly, surely. You bring Sunoo's hand closer to plant a kiss on his knuckles, and he begins to stammer out exclamations ("H-Hey, you can't just do that to my heart—") but smiles into your shoulder once you pull him into an embrace.

Thank you for being there for me.