“……”
Cha Sa-yoon stared at the face shrouded in darkness. Though the other person didn’t admit it outright, their face—drained of all color—answered for them.
“So, you’re Killer.”
The monitor, illuminating the empty room, displayed a familiar game. It was the very game Sa-yoon himself had logged into earlier, given the ongoing event.
The moment he confirmed the character name, it felt as if the ground beneath him had disappeared. He checked once, twice, three times, even going so far as to slap his own cheek to see if he was dreaming.
“Ha……”
Letting out a sigh, Sa-yoon buried his forehead into his palm. Now that he knew the truth, all that remained was a deep sense of betrayal. The sheer disgust of having been deceived for months came as an added bonus.
“I was fucking clueless……”
And now, everything made sense. He should have noticed when the guy who used to curse him out and treat him like a stalker suddenly flipped his attitude like turning over a damn coin. Back then, he’d thought it was because the other had been impressed by his persistence and had finally agreed to take part in his project. He hadn’t even imagined there was this kind of bullshit going on behind the scenes.
“You must’ve thought this was fucking hilarious.”
How funny it must have been. The same person who cussed him out online, telling him to fuck off and blocking him, was now groveling in real life, begging him to take part in his work.
“No wonder. You kept asking to meet up even though we weren’t close.”
Sa-yoon voiced each thought as it surfaced in his mind.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“……I was going to.”
Sa-yoon scoffed. Going to. The easiest excuse. The classic line liars always used.
“When? Right before you fucking died? Maybe at your own damn funeral?”
“……!”
“What, were you planning to haggle with me? Ask for a custom deal in exchange for participating? Who knows, if I’d realized you were the bastard who spent months terrorizing my guestbook, I might’ve stopped chasing after you altogether.”
At his sharp words, Sa Shin-jae momentarily flinched, his face reflecting the hurt.
Sa-yoon forced himself to ignore what he saw. Once upon a time, he had thought Shin-jae’s expressions gave away everything he was feeling. But now that he knew the truth, he couldn’t trust a single thing anymore.
“That’s why I couldn’t say anything. Back then… you didn’t like me.”
Claiming he’d lied because Sa-yoon didn’t like him? He had expected any kind of excuse, but for some reason, this one didn’t make him feel any better. Not at all.
“You already saw me as a kid, anyway. Always talking about how we’re six years apart, how I seem too young, how you don’t see me as someone you could date.”
“If I told you I was Killer, you’d treat me even more like a kid and stop dealing with me altogether. That’s why I lied. I was scared… scared you’d do that.”
The words, spoken hesitantly as if carefully chosen, sounded plausible on the surface. But when picked apart, they subtly placed the blame on Sa-yoon. Because he treated Shin-jae like a kid. Because he hated Killer. That was why Shin-jae had to lie. There wasn’t the slightest trace of remorse anywhere in his words.
“Hyung.”
When Sa-yoon didn’t respond, Shin-jae took a few steps closer. The vague silhouette, blurred by the darkness, became clearer. Just hours ago, that face had been so lovely. Now, it felt utterly unfamiliar.
“You think this relationship is fine?” Sa-yoon blocked him with a hand, preventing him from sitting beside him. “You think it’s okay, knowing that it was built on a lie?”
“…I do think it was wrong. But still.”
He trailed off, but Sa-yoon could easily guess the unspoken words. But still, because of that lie, we became close. So what matters is the result, not the process.
“Shin-jae, I… I hate liars the most. Nothing feels worse than being made a fool of.”
And yet, you’ve just made me feel like complete shit.
“Then if you’d known I was Killer from the start, would you have given me a fair chance? Looked at me without prejudice?”
“……”
“See? You wouldn’t have.”
Of course not. Sa-yoon despised Killer. The mere thought of it made his teeth grind. And in real life, their relationship had been just as terrible. If he had known that the guy who had shoulder-checked him and cursed at him was Killer, he wouldn’t have given him a second glance.
But still.
“You shouldn’t have lied. You shouldn’t have deceived me.”
If he had told the truth from the start, Sa-yoon would’ve been furious. He might have told him to fuck off, might have said he never wanted to see him again.
But Sa-yoon wasn’t the type to cut people off so ruthlessly, especially not someone who had chased after him so earnestly. At first, he would have scolded him, demanded an explanation, maybe even lashed out a little. But in the end, he would have let him stay.
And eventually, he would have liked him.
He would have grown fond of the kind, adorable, utterly distracting junior who kept pulling at his attention. Maybe they would’ve even gotten along better in the game. Even if it meant taking the long way around, that would have been the path Sa-yoon believed was right.
“Hyung, we were happy, weren’t we? It’s all in the past now… Can’t you just let this one go?”
“I… I don’t know.”
At the very least, when his lie was exposed, Sa-yoon had expected a sincere apology. He never imagined Shin-jae would do nothing but make excuses.
If he had felt like shit before, now he felt like he had crashed straight through rock bottom and into the earth’s core.
“I’m not saying you have to live a completely guiltless life. But at the very least…”
He trailed off, his chest tightening as if someone were pressing down on it.
“…At the very least, if we’re in a relationship, we should be honest with each other.”
If he had truly intended to confess, he should have done it before asking Sa-yoon out. If not then, then at the very least before they started dating. And even if he couldn’t bring himself to say it then, he should have spoken up after they had gotten together.
There had been so many chances.
“I wanted to tell you! But every time I tried, you—”
Again. Again, Shin-jae was putting the blame on Sa-yoon.
“That’s just an excuse. You’re acting like you did nothing wrong and making this all my fault.”
“No, that’s not what I meant.”
“Well, that’s how it sounds to me.”
“……You’re not even going to listen to what I have to say, are you?”
“Yeah, you got that right. I don’t believe liars.”
Shin-jae took in a deep breath. His broad chest rose and fell heavily.
“If I could go back, I’d do it the same way.”
“Then if something like this happens again, you’ll hide it from me?”
“I just… I don’t want to show you a side of me that would disappoint you.”
But that wasn’t how Sa-yoon viewed relationships. A relationship wasn’t about only showing the best sides of yourself. That wasn’t love—that was acting. A performance.
The gap between them was too wide. Their views were too different. Sa-yoon turned his head toward the window, staring at the blinds. The world outside was pitch dark. Just like their relationship.
He had no choice but to admit it now.
“Then there’s nothing left to say.”
Sa Shin-jae was simply too different from him. And the difference in their values could never be bridged.
“I’m leaving.”
Sa-yoon stood up, ready to go. Shin-jae quickly followed, grabbing onto his wrist.
“Hyung, where are you going at this hour?”
It was strange. Just hours ago, the feeling of being this close had sent his heart racing. Had made him happy.
“Shin-jae.”
Sa-yoon looked down at the hand clutching his arm.
“I think… it’s better not to start a relationship that has no trust to begin with.”
Shin-jae’s grip tightened. His eyes widened, lips slightly parted in shock.
“What do you mean by that?”
“Exactly what I said. I don’t think we’re right for each other. Let’s forget about last night.”
“Are you saying… you want to break up?”
“Yeah.”
At the firm answer, Shin-jae’s face twisted with confusion.
“Just over this?”
“Shin-jae.”
“You said you liked me! How can you throw this away so easily? How is this so easy for you?”
“That’s exactly why, Shin-jae.”
Sa-yoon gently peeled off the hand gripping his arm.
“Because you think this is ‘just’ something small.”
To say there was no hesitation in his heart would be a lie. But he wasn’t going to repeat the same mistake he had made before. He wasn’t going to let himself be blinded by his emotions and walk into something he already knew was doomed.
He turned away. There was no sound of footsteps following him.
Sa-yoon went to his room, packed his things, and left. The sky had started to lighten, and a soft drizzle had begun to fall.
Just as he was opening the door, arms wrapped tightly around his waist from behind.
There it was.
A weight settled on his shoulder. Shin-jae was holding onto him.
“Hyung, just wait. Please… just talk to me for a moment. We can’t end it like this.”
“…Shin-jae—”
Sa-yoon started to call his name but stopped. His shoulder was damp.
“I can’t let you go, Hyung. I can’t break up with you. Don’t leave me….”
Would things have been different if he had acted this small and fragile from the start? Would Sa-yoon have given in, sighed, and told him, Fine, just this once, before comforting him?
“Hyung, please… is it because I lied? Is that why you’re disappointed in me? I swear I was going to tell you. I never meant to keep hiding it forever.”
“Shin-jae.”
“I just wanted to be close to you. I was scared that if I told you, you’d hate me even more and never talk to me again. I should have been honest. I know I was wrong… Please don’t go.”
If something like this happened again, Shin-jae would still make the choice he believed was right. And then they would end up fighting over the same issue.
They’d sweep things under the rug, ignore the problem, and pretend it was fine—until it happened again. Then they’d argue, grow exhausted, and eventually, one of them would break.
“Don’t leave me….”
Sa-yoon stood there in silence, staring out at the rain.
Soft raindrops fell in steady rhythm. Tat-tok, tat-tok. And between them, quiet sobs seeped through.
