fighting doesn't always mean hate

Pretending not to know only lasts a while
Now I,m getting tired little by little
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𝐄𝐚𝐬𝐲 - 𝐉𝐚𝐞𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧
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The car ride continues, thick with unspoken tension.

"Why are you trying to play it cool? Pretending you don't care?" Po asks, glancing over at me.

I grip the wheel tighter. "What are you trying to get at?"

"I don't get why you're pulling away. Do you think you're protecting them from something? Even if you are, what—"

"Stop acting like you know anything about me," I cut him off, my voice sharp. "You don't."

Po doesn't back down. "You're right, I don't. But from what I can see? You still care."

A red light stops us, and I hit the brakes harder than necessary. I know he notices, but he doesn't call me out on it.

"I just want you to do what you think is right—for you and the group," Po says, turning to look out the window.

I exhale slowly. "I mean... I guess I should talk to them. But my acting career—"

The light turns green, and I press the gas, letting the thought hang.

A few minutes later, I pull up to Po's stop.

He grabs his bag, opening the door. "See you around."

I don't respond, just watch as he disappears into the building.

Now, I'm only a block away from home, but somehow, the drive feels heavier—longer than it should.

I continue in silence, gripping the wheel as if letting go would mean losing control of something bigger than just the car.

Finally, I pull into my driveway, but for a moment, I just sit there. That block felt longer than any drive I've ever taken.

And I have no idea why.

As I step out of the car, I realize something.

I didn't drive to my apartment.

I'm at the group house.

I stare at the front door, my mind scrambling for a reason. Did I come here on purpose? Some kind of habit I didn't realize I still had? My fingers twitch at my sides, debating whether to turn back—but then I notice a light on inside.

Someone's here.

With a quiet sigh, I start walking up the steps, digging through my pockets for my key. When I finally find it, I hesitate for just a second before unlocking the door and stepping inside.

The entrance feels... different. Almost unfamiliar, like I'm stepping into an abandoned building instead of home.

The only light is coming from down the hall.

I follow it.

It's Thame.

I knock lightly, listening as his footsteps approach. The door opens, and we just stand there, staring at each other—both confused but also understanding.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, furrowing my brows.

"I could ask the same thing," he says, stepping back. "Come in."

I walk in, and the first thing I notice is the low music playing in the background. Our last album. The one we made together as a full group.

Thame sits down at his desk, avoiding my gaze.

"So... are you going to answer me?" I press, watching him carefully.

"I don't really know," he mumbles, but I can tell he's lying. He does know. He just doesn't want to say it.

"Come on," I say, moving to sit at the edge of his bed. "I know you by now."

His fingers fidget against his knee. "I just—" His voice wavers, and I see his eyes start to glisten. "I miss you guys. I don't know what to do. I want us to be a group again. I miss having you all by my side. I hate watching from afar."

I exhale slowly, nodding. "Listen i understand. okay? i love acting yes and im so happy that im able to do it but in the back of my mind i miss you guys but having to push my feelings away was so hard" i say not even realizing what i said just watching his face change into a look of confusion.

"Feelings...?"

Oh.

"Nothing, never mind," I say quickly, brushing it off. "If you wanted help, you could've just asked."

"I didn't think anyone cared about the group anymore," he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes slightly watering.

I shake my head. "I don't know how the others feel, but I can tell you one thing—I never didn't care about the group."

Silence settles between us, but it's different now. It's softer. Warmer.

"Listen, I know I normally don't do this, but... do you want a hug?" I offer, my voice quieter than before.

Thame looks up at me, eyes still slightly wet, and nods. Just barely.

I smile and pull him in.

The hug is brief but grounding—like something we both needed but neither of us wanted to ask for.

And then, as soon as we pull back—

"So... what feelings were you talking about?"