First Love | Chan

                                    

                                          
Y/N stood at the edge of her parents' backyard, watching as the familiar scene unfolded before her. The sound of laughter and the smell of grilled food filled the air. It was one of those family events she'd grown so accustomed to over the years, the type that brought people together—parents, siblings, old family friends. Today, though, she felt a little out of place.
Because today, Chan was back.
She hadn't seen him in years. Not since that summer after high school, when everything had fallen apart. They had been the couple everyone talked about, the kind that made people believe in high school love stories. Their mothers were best friends, their families practically one. But it hadn't been enough to keep them together when Chan had made the decision to move abroad for college. It wasn't the moving that hurt Y/N—it was that he was the one who had suggested they break up. He had been pragmatic, reasonable, even in the face of heartbreak. Long distance wouldn't work, he'd said. It was better to let go now than to slowly tear each other apart over the years.
She'd agreed then, but it was the hardest thing she'd ever done.
Her heart had been left with a bruise that never quite healed, no matter how many times people told her it was just "first love" and that she would move on eventually. Except she hadn't. Not fully. Not like he seemed to have.
Y/N glanced over at the group near the grill, where Chan was standing with his father, casually chatting as though nothing had ever changed. He was older now, more confident. There was a calmness in his posture, the easy grace of someone who had grown up and found his place in the world. She wondered if he'd even thought about her in the years he'd spent abroad. If the time they shared had meant anything to him at all.
She sighed, turning her attention to the garden in front of her. It didn't matter. They were different people now, and she had moved on—or at least, she told herself she had. It was better this way. They could be friends, maybe. Family friends, like their parents wanted. After all, she was sure that was what Chan had in mind, too.
But that didn't stop her heart from clenching when she heard his voice, closer now. "Y/N."
She turned, bracing herself. There he was, standing just a few feet away, his expression unreadable but gentle. The way he looked at her—it wasn't like before, but there was something else in his eyes. Something familiar.
"Chan," she replied, her voice steadier than she expected. "It's been a while."
"Yeah," he said with a nod, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Too long, I think."
There was a pause, a weight between them that hadn't been there in years. Chan seemed to sense it too because he cleared his throat, shifting slightly. "I was wondering if we could talk? Later, I mean. Just... catch up."
Y/N swallowed hard, but she nodded. "Sure. That sounds... good."
But deep down, she wasn't sure if anything about this would ever feel good again.
Weeks had passed since that first reunion at the family event, and Y/N had done her best to keep things casual. Chan had been surprisingly polite, respectful—almost too much so. They'd kept their distance, exchanging small talk here and there when their paths crossed at other gatherings. He was always so composed, so adult about everything. And that, more than anything, was what bothered her the most.
They were adults now, sure. But it was as if all the history between them had been neatly packed away in a box labeled "old memories," and he was determined to keep it that way.
One evening, Y/N found herself at her parents' house for dinner. She hadn't expected Chan to be there, but when she stepped into the living room, there he was, laughing with her brother and chatting with her mom like it was the most normal thing in the world. He looked so at home, and for a second, it sent her reeling. This was how it used to be—how it could have been, if things hadn't ended the way they did.