I got bored one morning in class and asked chatgpt to write me short stories so i'm posting them here for you too! Hope you enjoy these! <3
CHATGPT GENERATED THESE.
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Genre is angst which mean this story will be emotional / sad in a not good way. Idol : Park Jongseong : Jay
Every day, without fail, Park Jongseong visited Y/N's grave. He came before dawn, before the world had fully woken, and sat there in the soft, quiet gloom of the early morning. He would bring a single white lily, the flower she loved most, and place it gently in front of the stone marker, as if it could somehow make up for everything he never said, everything he never did.
He never really believed in fate. But the moment he had met Y/N, it felt like something *meant to be*. They had always joked about the perfect timing of it all—how they found each other when neither was looking, how they fit together as if the universe had carefully crafted them for each other. She was the calm to his storm, the anchor that kept him grounded when the chaos of life swirled around them.
But then she was gone.
The doctors had called it sudden. An accident. The kind of thing that was so unpredictable, so out of their control, that it felt like a cruel joke—only it wasn't funny. It was a cold, suffocating reality. One moment she was laughing in his arms, the next, she was lost to him, taken by fate in a blink of an eye. The world had stopped for Jongseong, and even though the days moved forward, he never could.
At first, he hadn't known what to do. He stayed at home, surrounded by the empty space where her laughter used to fill the air, where her voice used to sing through the quiet. The loneliness was suffocating. It wasn't until he found himself standing at her grave one evening—he didn't even remember how he had gotten there—that he realized he needed to be here. Every day. He needed to be near her, even if it was just her memory that remained.
So, he came.
Today, as the rain fell in soft, rhythmic whispers, Jongseong knelt by the grave, the cool droplets soaking into his jacket. His fingers trembled as he brushed the wet grass, his thoughts consumed by the absence of her. He hadn't brought flowers today. He knew she wouldn't have minded; she never cared much for grand gestures, always saying that simple things were the best.
"Y/N," he whispered, his voice breaking slightly. "I'm sorry. I never told you... how much you meant to me. How much I—"
His words faltered, but he didn't need to finish. The wind picked up for a moment, and with it, the soft memory of her laughter seemed to swirl around him. He closed his eyes, and for a brief moment, he could almost see her standing beside him, her eyes warm, her smile so full of life. It hurt. It always hurt. But it was the only way he could hold onto her now—through the fading echoes of the past.
"I never meant to hurt you," he murmured, a tear slipping down his cheek. "I should have loved you better. Should have said it more."
The years they had spent together felt like they had been stolen from him. He remembered how they would lie under the stars, talking about their dreams, their futures—about everything and nothing. How her hand would fit so perfectly in his. How her eyes would light up when she laughed, how her smile could light up the darkest room.
"I miss you so much," he said, choking on the words. "I'm sorry. I'll never stop being sorry."
He didn't know how long he sat there, staring at her name carved in stone, the rain washing over them both, washing away everything but the pain that clung to him. The world was moving on, but he couldn't. He didn't want to.
He had made a promise to her once, a quiet vow they had exchanged in the solitude of their shared moments.
"I'll always be with you," he whispered now, his hand pressing against the cold stone. "I'll always be by your side."
It wasn't a promise that could be kept in the way he had hoped. But it was the one he could make, the only thing left to give her. He stood up, his legs sore from kneeling, but it didn't matter. The ache in his heart, the heaviness in his chest, was far worse.
Before he left, he ran his fingers over the fresh flowers he had placed there the day before, a small token of his love. He looked back one last time, as if expecting to see her standing there, her eyes bright with the love she had always shown him. But of course, she wasn't.
As he walked away, the rain continued to fall in gentle whispers, and the only thing that followed him was the memory of her, fading like the last traces of sunlight before the night took over.
And in his heart, Jongseong carried her with him, a ghost of a love that could never truly die. Because some things, no matter how much time passes, are never meant to fade.
