#ex bf konig | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cumikering · 8 months

Text

Ex bf König x reader

1.8k | angst, comfort

When you saw König again, the world seemed to pause for a moment. Under the clear sky, the breeze subsided and the soft music faded. He felt out of place in this dimension. Was it him, really? You expected him to disappear when you opened your eyes.

Your heartbeat echoed in your ears as you walked towards him. He sat in the quiet corner of the rooftop cafe, where everything looked too small for him. Reality snapped back in place, but the wind in your hair didn’t feel like it and the beat didn’t sound like what it was supposed to. You felt you were floating.

He smiled, but you were too caught up deciphering that it was him you were walking to.

It was König. On the table lied the strong hands you remembered holding all those years ago, next to his cup of tea. Heavy, rough and hardened - they were still very much his.

It was three years ago.

In three years, you didn't see yourself changing much at all, but it was all clear on him now that he sat right before you. He had a different hairstyle – much longer than his military cut, a bit dishevelled. The scars on his face and arms had faded, the smaller ones leaving no trace. Jarring, as whenever you saw him after long periods of time, he always adorned more. He might not have been as buff, but he looked far more relaxed than when you saw him last despite the little lines on the corner of his eyes.

You weren’t sure if you were allowed to notice – it felt too intimate after all the ocean between you for these three years. But maybe life had been tough on him, like he said it was going to be.

He smiled as you sat. “You look good. Seems like you’ve been well.”

Well, you tried to be.

Of course you kept in contact, but predictably it waned with time. You were holding on to something which wasn't yours anymore, and he really wasn’t. His mind was entirely elsewhere and it wasn't his fault. You were never sure it was better or not that you understood, but sure as hell you knew it hurt a lot. Goodbyes always hurt, even if you already saw it coming from a mile away.

You offered him a weak smile. “How long are you staying for?” you asked, dreading the answer.

He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not sure yet.”

You knew what that meant. Your gut wrenched.

It was unexpected to hear König was in town. Your heart tossed and turned with possibilities. You could only think of his little message for the rest of the day. It was exactly like the promise he made before he left.

But he remembered, at least. You felt silly for holding the promise so dear to your heart, because he probably didn’t, and you didn’t want to be in this space alone. You didn’t want to know that you were the only one pining for the remnants of what you had - once was enough. But after three years, maybe you’ve forgotten what it felt like too.

“Can I get you something? Do you still like your iced peach tea with no sugar?”

You let out a faint chuckle and nodded. You weren’t sure what to make of him remembering that.

We humans are unreliable with our memories. We remember things as a memory of a memory, and now after three years, you questioned yourself if what you remembered was what actually happened.

But you remembered missing him, of course. You remembered helping him pack up, stuffing his mugs between his clothes in his luggage. You slipped in some of his favourite chocolates too – the ones as sweet as his kisses - so he wouldn’t forget what the city was like. But if you were honest, they were so you wouldn’t forget him when you tasted them.

You remembered helping him donate his things, some of his books and some shirts that didn’t fit. You didn’t see a point in taking his shirts for yourself. They weren’t yours to keep anymore.

You remembered having one last look at his empty flat, holding your breath in anticipation, but still sank with loss knowing the click of the door was the grand finale of you and him. But most importantly, you remembered crystal clear how much you missed him that your stomach was scorched with acid and your tongue was as bitter as envy.

Your breakup was infinitely more painful than having him leave – you were used to rarely seeing him due to his job. ‘Du fehlst mir,’ his gentle voice said in the clips you played endlessly while he was away.

It ruined you thinking he wasn’t going to text or call anymore, saying he missed you and couldn’t wait to see you again. You thought about how he wasn’t going to hold your hand anymore while crossing the street, or that he wouldn’t be there to help you reach the top shelves of the supermarket.

It wrecked you that no one else would call you Liebling or Schatzi the same way he did, his voice overflowing with devotion and tenderness, the sweetest memories behind each syllable. You knew you’d never find anyone else like him.

Like the aftermath of war, the parting destroyed you, leaving a bleeding, gaping hole in your chest that never seemed to close up. Du fehlst mir indeed. He was missing from you.

Maybe you both were cowards for not trying, or not trying harder, but at that time, everything felt a lot more impossible.

Or you simply grew older, and realised real life was a lot more painful than broken hearts and not meeting your life goals. It was more like losing your loved ones or finding out they were dying.

Like on that phone call he received when you were out at the park after a nice lunch. You watched the smile fall from his face as your hand slipped out of his. He repeated in disbelief, but it was incomprehensible as he broke down. His knees went weak as he pressed his palm onto his eyes, as if it could hold the tears back. You led him to the closest bench and sat there in the deafening emptiness for a long while.

That was when you started to lose König. He was inconsolable, grave and so heavy, and you never blamed him one bit. It wasn’t his fault. You would have been the very same if you were told your dear mum was dying of late-stage cancer. You were there for him, and yet you watched as life bled out of his beautiful blue eyes, like how he would see too when looking at his mother.

And so he quitted KorTac and left for good, back to Austria where his mum was. He loved it there, spoke much of the hiking sites and mountains you never could remember the names of. He promised to take you to his childhood home one day.

“My mama passed last month.”

Your heart crumbled. “I’m so sorry,” you whispered.

He hummed, looking away. “Everything’s sorted now. But I’m back, as I promised.”

He’d said you’d meet again, at that café where you first met, when it was all over – whatever over meant at that time. But you knew what it meant when you got his message the day before, and it shattered your heart.

“You must hate me for leaving. Three years isn’t nothing at all, but there hasn’t been a day I don’t think about you.” His eyes met yours and you saw the regret as his hands balled into tight fists. “I was in a bad shape and it would have been selfish to have you while I wasn’t myself. You never demanded anything from me because you were always so understanding, but I haven’t forgotten about you at all.”

You wondered if you remembered verbatim the time you were together, if you were truly happy or that your relentless mind romanticised it all after he left. Like a prized possession you wrap up and tuck away on the highest shelf, and let time fade the imperfect details into the sweetest, yet blurry, distant memory.

But you hadn’t forgotten that time when you had your first kiss on the Ferris wheel, that the fireworks in your chest were far grander than the ones in the sky. You felt like you were flying. Or when you went to the beach and stayed under as long as you both could to imagine what the world would have looked like without you both. You agreed as you held each other, the following sunset was the best you had ever seen, like the softest painting stolen straight out of heaven.

König was right. People project what they feel, intentionally or not. Perhaps it’s just human nature regardless how sick it is. If he made you feel ignored, you’d like him to feel as abandoned, but that doesn’t stop at negativity. When you were happy, you wanted him to be too. You’d be extra cheery, sing-songy like a contagion. You wanted to sink him in the joy and drown with him over and over.

You reached for his hands. “I never hated you at all. I can’t even begin to imagine what you went through, but I know I never hated you.” You hoped he heard the sincerity.

“I wasn’t myself since the news and I didn’t get any better. I became… elusive to myself. It was like losing everything all at once. I know you genuinely cared, but I couldn’t even talk about it. I hated that I couldn’t make you happy anymore.”

You thought you finally understood why you broke up. Being intentionally mean is manipulative, but having no control of yourself means being helpless in how you treat your partner. You could only imagine how defeating it was to watch himself hurt people he loved in the midst of his own disaster.

“I know, and I don’t despise you for it. Not at all and never did.” You shook your head. “I’ve been there too, remember?”

He might have been holding back tears, but you were never afraid of feelings.

If it’s been a month, and even in a year or ten, things will still be allowed to hurt. You’re allowed to grieve because sometimes you never truly heal from a part of you getting ripped away, and that’s alright.

You knew it all too well.

He smiled. He’d never been so beautiful before.

“I’m just happy to see you again,” he whispered.

And with your cheek against his chest, it felt like no time had passed. Maybe your heart never left. Maybe your heart was still docked at the shore of the both of you, always waiting for him to be back.

@sofasoap

353 notes · View notes