WINRINA ONESHOTS

LONGING

It was a cold winter evening, the kind where the world felt like it was standing still, frozen in place. The kind of evening that matched the heaviness in Jimin’s chest. She sat in their shared living room, staring blankly at the flickering candle on the coffee table. It had been hours since Minjeong had left, and the silence that followed felt suffocating.

Jimin’s hands were trembling. She gripped the edge of her sweater tighter around her body, as if doing so would keep her from falling apart. The door had slammed shut earlier, Minjeong’s final words still echoing in the hollow space between them.

“We need to stop pretending, Jimin.”

Minjeong’s voice had been soft, but the impact of her words hit like a thunderstorm, shaking Jimin to her core. She didn’t know how to respond. She didn’t even know how to breathe after that.

The front door opened slowly, and Jimin’s heart leaped in her chest. Minjeong had come back. She had to. This couldn’t be it. It couldn’t be the end of everything.

Minjeong stepped inside, her face pale and her eyes red-rimmed. She looked as if she had been crying, the weight of the world pressing down on her shoulders. Jimin stood up, her breath shallow, but she couldn’t find the words to say. Every syllable seemed to be trapped in her throat.

Minjeong broke the silence first. “I… I thought I needed space, but I couldn’t… I couldn’t leave like that.”

Jimin stepped closer, her voice shaking. “Then don’t. Please don’t.”

Minjeong shook her head, her gaze dropping to the floor. “You know it’s not that simple.”

“Why does it have to be complicated?” Jimin asked, her voice laced with desperation. She reached out, her fingers brushing Minjeong’s arm. “We… we can work this out, can’t we? I don’t—” Her voice cracked. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Minjeong flinched slightly at the touch, and Jimin’s hand dropped to her side. That small movement, that subtle pulling away, felt like a knife to the heart. Jimin’s eyes welled up, and she swallowed the sob that was threatening to escape.

“You haven’t lost me,” Minjeong whispered, but it didn’t feel like the truth. It felt like a lie they were both trying to believe. “It’s just…” She paused, her voice breaking. “It’s too much. Everything. The schedules, the pressure, us… I don’t know who I am anymore.”

Jimin’s breath hitched. “But we’re in this together, Minjeong. We’ve always been in this together.”

Minjeong wiped at her eyes, frustrated at the tears that kept falling. “That’s the problem, Jimin. I don’t know where you end and I begin anymore. I don’t know how to breathe when you’re not around. And it scares me.”

Jimin blinked, taken aback. She had never heard Minjeong speak like this before, never seen this level of vulnerability from her. “Why… why haven’t you told me any of this before?”

Minjeong let out a soft, bitter laugh. “Because I didn’t want to admit it to myself. I thought I could handle it. I thought we could just… keep going like this forever. But it’s eating me alive.”

“Minjeong, you’re not alone,” Jimin said, her voice trembling. “I’m here. I’ve always been here.”

“And that’s exactly why I need space.” Minjeong’s voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut through the air like glass. “I’ve lost myself in you, Jimin. I don’t know how to love you and still be me.”

Jimin took a step back, the words hitting her harder than she expected. She felt like she was crumbling from the inside out. “So what? What are you saying? That we can’t be together anymore? That I’m… that I’m the problem?”