Chapter 6: Dust to Dust
The air in Y/N's tiny apartment felt thick and suffocating on that humid Thursday night. The summer heat clung to everything, making her skin sticky even after a cold shower. She had spent the afternoon preparing a simple dinner—ramen with vegetables and some side dishes she knew Jay liked—hoping against hope for one normal evening where they could pretend to be an ordinary couple. Candles flickered on the small table, casting long shadows that danced mockingly across the walls covered in faded posters of Seoul's skyline and half-scribbled lyric sheets.Jay arrived over an hour late, the door clicking open with a quietness that already signaled his distraction. His hair was slightly disheveled from practice, and his phone was glued to his hand, screen glowing with notifications he kept glancing at. He barely looked at the carefully set table.
"Sorry," he muttered, kicking off his shoes. "Schedule ran longer than expected."
Y/N's heart sank, but she forced a smile. They ate in near silence, the clinking of chopsticks the only sound breaking the tension. Every bite tasted like ash. Finally, she couldn't hold it in anymore.
"I can't do this anymore," she whispered, voice cracking as tears welled up and spilled down her cheeks. She stood from the table, confronting him in the middle of her small living room. "You're never really here, Jay. It's all lies, endless excuses, and me waiting like an idiot in this empty apartment night after night. I planned a future for us—quiet dates, supporting each other's dreams—but it's turning into nothing but dust."
Jay's expression hardened, the charming mask he usually wore cracking to reveal exhaustion and irritation. He set his phone down with a heavy sigh. "Fine. Maybe we both need space then. This is too much pressure on top of everything else in my life—the comeback, the fans, the company watching my every move. I can't keep juggling all of this and your expectations too."
His words landed like physical blows. Y/N wrapped her arms around herself, feeling smaller than ever. They argued for what felt like hours—her voice rising with all the pent-up hurt, his responses growing colder and more defensive. He didn't deny the lies outright anymore; he simply deflected, turning the blame toward her "insecurity" and the impossibility of their situation. Eventually, he grabbed his jacket and left without a proper goodbye, the door shutting with a finality that echoed through her chest.
The breakup lasted eleven agonizing days that stretched into an eternity of despair. Y/N's world collapsed into fine dust, scattering in the wind. She stopped eating properly, surviving on stale crackers and instant coffee that left her stomach churning. She barely left her bed, the sheets tangled and unwashed. The apartment echoed with a haunting emptiness—takeout containers piling up on the counter, her lyric notebook lying untouched and gathering dust on the desk, pages filled with half-written songs about a love that was never meant to last.
In the dead of night, she would play old voice notes on loop, his smooth voice promising forever, whispering sweet escapes from his idol life. "You're my only real thing, Y/N." The words that once warmed her now sliced deep. At 2 a.m., in a fit of raw rage, she deleted them all, sobbing so hard her body shook. Then, minutes later, trembling fingers recovered the files, and she listened again until her eyes burned and her throat was raw.
Her thoughts spiraled endlessly into dark abysses: I planned a future for two, and now it's all dust. How did I let myself become this pathetic version of me? Chasing someone who only shows up when it's convenient for him. Friends' concerned calls and texts went unanswered; she couldn't bear their "I told you so" or worried pity. Work at the bookstore suffered terribly—she missed shifts, made mistakes with customers, and received a warning from her manager that barely registered through the fog of depression.
The silence from Jay was worse than any lie he had ever told. No good morning texts. No late-night apologies. Just a vast, empty void that swallowed her whole. She wandered the apartment like a ghost, replaying every stolen moment, every kiss, every promise, wondering where it had all gone wrong. The song lyrics haunted her: You always lie when it's convenient... I'm the casualty.
On the eleventh night, as rain pounded against the windows again, a notification appeared on her phone—an unsent draft somehow visible in her message app, perhaps from a glitch or his own hesitation.
Jay: I f*cked up. These days without you have been hell. I miss you more than I can say. The stage feels empty now.
She stared at the glowing screen until the first light of dawn crept through the curtains, her heart warring between relief and dread. The cycle was already whispering its seductive pull, urging her to crawl back into the pain she knew so well. In that moment, surrounded by the ruins of what they had, Y/N felt herself crumbling further, unsure if she had the strength—or even the desire—to stay away.
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