Min Yugeon closed his eyes.
Had he truly believed that the feelings swelling in his chest, passed onto the sleeping Seo Suho, had gone unheard?
No.
He had simply pretended not to calculate that possibility, choosing instead to ignore it.
This was the consequence of giving in to his own greed.
“……”
He stared at Seo Suho, whose lips were tightly sealed.
There wasn’t a hint of blame on that pale face. If anything, it was unnaturally expressionless. The betrayal, the weight, the confusion—whatever emotions were stirring inside, it was obvious Suho was suppressing them, fearing that revealing even a sliver would hurt Yugeon even more.
But those black eyes, trembling in spite of himself, were impossible to hide.
As he looked into them, Yugeon muttered under his breath—
He didn’t even have the right to feel hurt.
Even if their feelings had taken different forms, Seo Suho had loved him too. And Yugeon, who knew him well, recognized the fear lurking behind Suho’s silence—fear of what Yugeon’s actions might do to the bond between them.
Seo Suho finally spoke, breaking the quiet.
“I wasn’t uncomfortable. But…”
His eyes, still tinged with red, locked onto Min Yugeon.
“…I’m sorry.”
A heavy apology, carrying all the words he hadn’t said aloud.
“I’m sorry, Yugeon.”
Min Yugeon slowly shook his head.
No. That apology should be mine… Why are you…
A lump of heat surged up, choking his throat and stealing his voice.
It was a feeling he had experienced once before—but the situation was different now. This time, it was him who was causing Seo Suho pain.
It was exactly the scenario he had imagined time and again whenever he’d been tempted to confess his feelings to Suho—playing out with not a single deviation.
Was there even a reason to feel this crushed?
Yugeon’s mind hissed at him, ridiculing his pathetic state, ordering him to pull himself together.
He slowly pushed himself to his feet. Seo Suho lifted his head and looked up at him. Yugeon met the eyes he loved most in the world.
“Ajusshi knows everything.”
Seo Suho’s father had treated him like an old friend every time they met, even when Yugeon kept his distance because of Min Sanghan’s blunt nature.
Putting an arm around his shoulder, smiling wide, he would glance behind at Seo Suho and whisper:
“The way you look at Suho… it’s the same way I look at Heeseo.”
“Uh… what?”
“Don’t play dumb.”
He covered his mouth with a fist and cleared his throat before leaning in to whisper in Yugeon’s ear:
“To be honest, I’d love for Suho to end up with you. You know what I mean, right?”
“……”
“Just know that I’m rooting for you, okay?”
“…Really?”
“Of course. I promise. But—can I ask one selfish favor in return?”
The favor was surprisingly simple.
As long as Min Yugeon’s heart didn’t change, stay by Seo Suho’s side.
Back then, it had seemed like the most obvious thing in the world. As long as he loved Seo Suho, there was no way he would ever leave him.
He had never imagined it would come to this.
“Min Yugeon…!”
The moment Yugeon turned around, Seo Suho’s face twisted. He quickly scrambled up and threw his arms around Yugeon’s back, as if he knew exactly what Yugeon was thinking.
Even through his clothes, Yugeon could feel how cold and tense Suho’s hands were.
“I told you to stay by my side.”
His voice trembled, as if asking, Isn’t that right?
Yugeon couldn’t even take another step. He held his breath.
“I know I’m being selfish. But don’t go.”
“…Suho.”
“Don’t leave.”
Seo Suho clung to him tightly, as if he would never let go.
Min Yugeon clenched his fists and lowered his head. Seo Suho was clinging to him—still needing him—despite the fact that Yugeon had trampled all over him, cloaked in the disguise of a “friend.”
He couldn’t say it didn’t make him happy. But that happiness was something he didn’t deserve.
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t let go of his feelings for Seo Suho. It was too late to hide them.
Which meant the one who had to endure the discomfort would be Suho.
Suho, who would bear the guilt he didn’t need to feel, quietly suffering as he tried to make sense of it all.
There was no way Yugeon could be selfish enough to let that happen.
“…We can’t go back to the way things were.”
His voice came out in a strained whisper, trembling at the edges.
Dark splotches began to appear on the floor, one by one.
Yugeon gently pried Suho’s arms off his torso and turned around.
Before Suho could see his face—
He pulled him into an embrace.
“Seo Suho.”
“……”
“I like you.”
A whisper so faint it seemed on the verge of vanishing.
Seo Suho inhaled sharply.
As he felt the body in his arms go rigid, Min Yugeon lowered his soaked lashes.
The past few days had felt like a sweet dream.
Now it was time to wake up.
***
It was not the first time I had heard such a confession, and yet I could not understand why my heart was pounding so hard it felt like it would burst. Maybe it was because I sensed in Min Yugeon’s demeanor that he had resolved to leave, and the fear of that realization gripped me.
Even though I had already imagined the worst-case scenario, I was ashamed of how uncomposed I had been. I couldn’t forgive myself for shamelessly holding onto Min Yugeon… even though I had never accepted his feelings.
I didn’t want to lose Min Yugeon, but I had no choice but to reject his heart. I believed that the reason we had been able to stay together all this time was because we were friends. The relationship we had maintained for so long was too precious to me—so much so that I couldn’t even imagine it ending and transforming into something else.
But considering how long Min Yugeon had kept his feelings a secret, it was clear we hadn’t been just one-sided friends for quite some time. Min Yugeon acted as if he were the one at fault, but in truth, the truly awful one was me—for not realizing how much he had been struggling.
“……”
I gently touched the shoulder where his tears had completely dried. Min Yugeon had always been the one holding my life together, and yet today, I was the one who made him falter. The weight of that truth crushed me—I couldn’t remain sane under it.
I slumped over the dining table and rested my face on it. The cold surface seeped into my cheek. I stared blankly at the sight of an empty liquor bottle rolling across the table—emptied all by myself, for the first time.
It was a pathetically miserable thing to do.
The Min Yugeon who would have approached me, asking why I was drinking alone before sitting across from me, was no longer in this house. A place that had once been as good as his own was now somewhere he clearly felt he no longer belonged, and he had walked out just like that.
Even if he were to leave me someday, I never imagined it would happen like this…
“I said I’d stay by your side for the rest of my life.”
“Liar…”
I ended up blaming Min Yugeon.
…What the hell is wrong with me?
Just moments ago, I had been regretting hurting him. I slammed my heavy head against the table in remorse. I had no idea why I was acting this way.
Even though Min Yugeon hadn’t yet taken all of his things, the house already felt silent and cold in his absence. He had probably gone back to his parents’ place. It was unlikely he would contact me anytime soon. He would return if he needed to pick up the rest of his stuff, though.
When that time came, I wanted to talk to him properly. Not like today—grabbing onto him desperately and refusing to let go… not like that… I furrowed my brows, my thoughts sluggish. What exactly was I supposed to say?
Lost in thought and unaware of how much time had passed, I suddenly felt a vibration on my wrist. My dulled senses didn’t react immediately, but after a beat, I looked down. My watch was blinking and vibrating. Could it be Min Yugeon?
I widened my eyes and raised my wrist to check up close.
Sun Woosung…?
A wave of disappointment and confusion washed over me. What time was it now? It had to be late. It was strange that he was calling instead of messaging. I shook my hazy head to clear it and tapped the screen.
“Yes, Colonel.”
—Apologies. I meant to send a message, but I accidentally called.
His voice was calm despite the slip-up, which felt a little awkward but also very much like Sun Woosung. I nodded to myself.
Then came silence.
—Seo Suho?
“…Yes?”
—Can you hear me clearly?
“I can hear you fine, but…”
He must have noticed something was off from my sluggish responses and slow speech.
—Were you sleeping?
“Ah… no, that’s not it… I’m sorry. I had a bit to drink.”
No matter how much I tried to sound normal, I couldn’t stop slurring. It didn’t feel respectful to him, so I started to stand up, intending to get some cold water.
But then, carelessly, I knocked over the bottle with my elbow. It fell to the floor and shattered with a loud crash. The sudden noise snapped me out of my daze instantly.
“Ugh…!”
A beat later, pain surged through me. I looked down to see a shard from the broken bottle had grazed my ankle, slicing it open and drawing blood.
—What happened?
Sun Woosung’s voice rose in alarm.
I instinctively opened my mouth to say I was fine—but no sound came out.
“You don’t have to stay there. Come here.”
“Rai!”
Starting from the moment I had dragged my leg across the floor, nightmares I had buried began to flood back in.
“I see someone!”
“That goddamn monster—why isn’t the anesthetic working?”
“The project’s over anyway.”
“…I’m sorry.”
—Seo Suho. Seo Suho!
Sun Woosung’s voice from the past overlapped with his voice in the present.
The pain spread—not just from my ankle, but up through my entire leg, an agony so profound I couldn’t put it into words.
