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Chapter Text

 

04.02.2023

 

 

Have you ever looked at the sea and wondered ‘Oh how deep would it be?’ Have you ever got this curiosity ‘What will happen if I jump in? Will the ocean accept me as I am or will I be rejected again?’

Have you ever had the urge to feel free? The kind of feeling you experience in Free Fall. 

The moment you jump, you never once think about what will happen when your feet touch the ground again. You just live in that very moment, enjoying the sensation of the cold winds against your body, forgetting about every single worry you have. That small time frame between the moment you jumped to the moment you touch the ground, it becomes your safe place, it makes you experience what being free means. 

Did you feel calm during that moment? 

Did your heart swell in happiness singing ‘Everything is just perfect!’ ?  

That feeling doesn’t end there, does it? 

Your lips are still stretched wide in a happy grin, giggling, laughing, narrating your experience during the fall with the others who accompanied you. Your cheek muscles sore with all the smiles you had. Your jaws aching due to all the laughs and talks you engaged in. Your throat feels parched, mouth dry because you are not used to talking that much. 

But like it is said, everything has to come to an end. 

The adrenaline wanes and you are on your way back home. With every step you take towards your destination, your smile starts fading, the gleam in your eyes starts to become dull, the confidence in your body drains away. Now you look like what they know you as. Dull lifeless eyes, face void of any emotion, shoulders slouched in an attempt to appear smaller. 

The cottony feeling in your mouth, the dryness of your throat are no longer a result of the excited talking and laughing. The palpitations of your heart, the sweat on your palms are not due to the adrenaline. It’s different, an entirely different emotion that takes over you. 

That feels like anxiety. 

That’s fear. 

It's during those moments you feel, just one step forward and everything will fall back in place. Because the reason for the chaos will be gone. 

You know the view is so beautiful from where I'm seated. Well the fourteenth floor is not that high but hey all other buildings are below ten floors. 

I like this. It's so calm here. The wind is cold, and it might rain today. But I don't mind the rain, you know, it will help to clean the ground. 

Free fall; that's what I wrote about in the start right. I want to try it once in my life. I want to feel free once. 

My boyfriend is afraid of heights, if I tell him this wish of mine he'll definitely make an offended face saying "Are you crazy? The mere concept of free fall should be banned!" Haha, he's cute like that and I love him so much. 

I miss him but this is what I want to do. 

Today I'll try a free fall. 

 

 

—Chris... 

‹ I write so I can breathe ›

✤

"Patient going into cardiac arrest!"

"Start performing CPR."

"Turn on the defibrillator!"

"Get ready to pause CPR."

"Prepare for shock."

"Clear the patient."

"Shocking."

"No response!"

"Start CPR."

"Defibrillator again!"

"Get ready to pause CPR."

"Prepare for shock."

Chapter Text

 

 

21.07.2018

 

 

I'm happy. 

What? Don't look at me like that. I know it's something new but suddenly I'm enjoying this feeling. 

I feel happy, giddy, over the moon, blessed, carefree, blithe – like take any synonym of the word happiness from the dictionary and I'll say ‘Yes I feel exactly that!’

This is what he does to me. Makes me feel things that I had actually forgotten how they felt like. He brings warmth in my cold life. Just imagine you are standing outside and the temperature is really very low, and then suddenly there is a small beam of sunlight falling on you. Do you feel that warmth, that relief? If yes then you will know what I mean when I say he brings me warmth. If not, then I'm worried, are you even human? 

Hahaha

What is happiness? 

An article I once read on the internet says “Happiness is an emotional state characterized by feelings of joy, satisfaction, contentment, and fulfillment.” Too much technical language. 

Happiness should be easy, easy to attain, easy to express. 

Avoiding negative thoughts is not easy but it is possible. Lol! Look at the irony. A person whose eighty seven percent of the day is drowned by negativity is asking others to avoid it. 

Wait, did I tell you the reason why I'm happy? Shit I didn't. So sorry! 

The thing is I have a boyfriend. 

We were going out for three months now, and today he asked me to be his boyfriend. Fun fact I panicked and almost said no. 

It's scary. Having a boyfriend. Being gay. Especially in a family like mine. It's not like they don't know about me being gay or as they like to call it being abnormal. But I am who I am. I can't change that. 

I need to keep this hidden. I don't want a repeat of the day when I accidentally came out to them. The events that occurred after that have left a deep scar on my mind and heart. He doesn't know about this yet. I don't know if I will tell him that. 

This is new, we are new. I don't want to do something or say something that will make him go away from me. I don't even have friends to share this with. Everything was over after that September two years back. Since then I've been here, like this. All alone. 

But now I have him. My boyfriend. (◍•ᴗ•◍)

 

—Chris… 

« I write so I can breathe »

 

✤

His knuckles were white gripping the steering wheel as he waited for the lights to turn green. This was one of the two signals he decided followed out of the eleven on the way towards LifeShades Hospital, that too because his eyesight was blurring, due to tears by the minutes, the heavy rain falling on the windshield didn't help either. 

His outgrown raven locks were falling over his face in waves, unlike how they were styled in the morning when he went to meet his new client, a domestic violence victim. He felt his heart beat in his throat as he neared the tall white building. 

Just four more blocks away. 

Taking in a deep breath his fingers carded through the wavy locks, cursing for being so ignorant. It had already been more than four hours now and he didn't know about it. You could have told me something, anything. But was that of any use now?

The interior of his Kia Sentos was a mess. He had literally thrown his stuff on the back seat before driving off. He knew his laptop might be broken, the way the black bag was left lying on the car floor after bouncing off the seat. The blazer was beside it on the floor as well.

He had an important event to attend in the evening where he was supposed to meet some high profile delegates, which might be his biggest breakthrough in the Bar Association. But did he care about that? No, not at all. This opportunity would come again and he'd grab it then. 

Today his priority was something else. The only thing he cared about was reaching that damned hospital and hoping to hear, if not good but hopeful news. 

The car door slammed shut, as he sped walked towards the emergency room doors, the umbrella not doing anything good in keeping the rain away. His leather dress shoes resonated as he entered the lobby and looked around, ignoring the couple of looks sent his way. He was dress too formal for a hospital but so what? His white shirt was folded to his forearms, tucked in his black work slacks and a waistcoat over it completed his look. 

He sent a glare to the female watching him before turning to the reception. 

“Excuse me.” he tapped the surface, grabbing the male nurse's attention “A patient was brought in today… Chan… I mean Bang Christopher Chan.”

“May I know sir what the patient was brought in for?”

The raven head felt a lump lodged in his throat, restricting his voice to come out. He couldn't bring himself to say those words. “He…” he gulped, fingers tapping the surface in a specific rhythm. “Somewhere around eleven in the morning he was brought in for… for s–”

“Oh, Bang Christopher Chan, got it. The suicide case.”

The attorney could only nod in reply, blinking away the tears that had been betraying him since he received the call from the hospital. He was not yet ready to accept the fact that this actually happened. His boyfriend actually did jump off the building. Wasn't he afraid of heights? 

“But sir, I cannot let you go in.” The nurse's words broke his chain of thoughts, making him frown. Why am I not allowed to go? 

“Why?”

“The patient is undergoing a major surgery right now and in such critical cases, especially like suicide we only allow the patient's family and the emergency contact, which in majority of the cases are the same. Mister Bang's family has not responded any of the calls and his emergency contact–”

“And his emergency contact is me! Lee Minho!” Minho was not standing here to listen to the hospital rules. He was here for his boyfriend. “I am Lee Minho,” he slammed his id on the surface “Chan's emergency contact and his boyfriend.”

Chapter Text

“Family of Bang Christo–”

“Yes! I'm here!” Without letting the doctor complete his statement, Minho sprang out of his chair, eyes still red and heavy with fatigue and unshed tears. It had been around three hours since he decided to sit on that metal chair. 

During those hours he watched a family rejoice on the birth of a baby girl, watched a family thank whatever God they believed in for the successful surgery, internally hoping that he'd get a similar feeling when the doctor walks out of his boyfriend's surgery. 

Besides him, now the waiting room had another family, grandparents and a five year old girl who had decided not to leave the seat beside him and also share her gummy bears with him. “Today I'll become a big sister.” she'd said, offering him the candies which he denied. “Are you also waiting for your little brother to come ahjussi?” 

That got his attention, and he just shook his head “Someone I love is really sick and is in there. I'm waiting for them to get well soon.” 

The five year old had just hummed, munching on her gummies, her legs swinging back and forth. “Mumma says love is strong, and if you love someone with your full heart, they'll always come back to you.” 

The words spoken by the five year old shifted something in his heart and he finally broke down for the very first time since he received the call from the hospital. Minho was scared, he was scared to admit that he was scared, he was scared to hear what the doctor had to say. But the small hands patting his shoulder felt like a warm hug, a really warm hug that he didn't know he needed at that moment. 

“How is Chan?” Minho asked as soon as he entered the doctor's office. 

“The surgery was a success but mister Bang flatlined once, and his blood pressure was really low so he's been shifted to the Intensive Critical Care Unit and will be under supervision.”

Minho nodded, pulling his thoughts away from the word 'flatlined' and redirecting them to successful surgery. His Chan was alive, he was breathing. That was progress and he decided to be content with that for a start. 

“That means he's out of danger, right?” If asked, Minho would immediately deny, but his voice quivered as he asked the question. The frown on the doctor's forehead as he read the reports didn't sit well with the lawyer. 

“Mister Lee, since you were the emergency contact in his medical papers, I would like to assume that you know each other for a long period of time.”

“Over ten or eleven years. Why is something wrong?”

“Are you aware about any existing health conditions Mister Bang has had? Or any symptoms that raised concerns?”

The thing is Minho was an attorney who was known for his wit and words. Never once in any of his cases, the man had fumbled on his words or had to stop and rethink about anything. Being anxious on hearing questions that he never expected never crossed his thoughts. Lee Minho had answers to every single thing and he never felt scared to say them. 

Right now the scene was different. He was not in a courtroom. His answer will not bring him peace and that was one thing he knew for sure. The doctor's words that will follow his own will definitely be something he would have never expected in his wildest dreams. 

He was confused, should he say the truth and face the outcome or should he frame a lie and protect himself from the reality? 

“I–No, he didn't show any specific symptoms. Normal headache due to stress, that's all. He didn't have any health conditions that could raise concerns.” 

Yes Minho was sure about this. He had never seen anything that could raise suspicion about his health. Chan used to get tired easily but that was because of the drama he used to face everyday in his family. It was just mental exhaustion, nothing a good sleep couldn't wipe off. 

Reading the doctor's expression Minho couldn't help but ask “Is something wrong?”

“Apart from the high blood pressure, we've detected an eighty percent blockage in his left anterior descending artery, which not operated immediately would lead to a widowmaker heart attack.”

✤

14.10.2018

I'm tired. 

Yes, I'm tired to write as well. 

Hmm… What should I say? Or a better question, how should I say? I'm exhausted, emotionally. Today was a really long day. 

I'm going around the topic aren't I?

I told him, Minho, I told him everything that happened that September. How my father overheard my conversation, how he and my entire family got to know about my sexuality. I didn't go into details, I couldn't. I still don't have the strength to say everything that happened, everything that's happening at home after that day. 

My chest hurts. It might be because I cried, literally broke down in front of him and he just held me. I ruined his shirt, by crying all over his shoulder, but he just pressed small kisses on my head, whispered sweet things in my ears. 

Minho had an important meeting this evening, but still he was there to pick me up from my class. Everyday I fall deeper for him. That's what scares me. What if I fall so deep that it becomes impossible for me to return? One of my ex-friend's said ‘Falling in love is good but don't FALL when in love.’ 

I get exhausted easily these days, I don't know why. I just want to sleep. Sleep and sleep, until I feel nothing. It's not too much to ask for but it is something I ask for.

I can't bring myself to write more. Might cry to sleep tonight. Let's see.

I hope one day I'll be able to tell him about the darkness inside me that's growing. I hope. 

—Chris… 

« I write so I can breathe »

Chapter Text

It felt like all the events of the day had come crashing down on him the moment he sat in the hospital's cafeteria, nursing a cup of coffee. Minho had just accepted the reality that his boyfriend of five years had committed suicide, and suddenly he had another thruth thrown at his face. 

He had watched, waited and watched his boyfriend, tubes and wires connected to his body, several medical equipment attached, monitors showing his vitals. But all he could do was watch Chan's pale face covered by an oxygen mask, head wrapped in bandages, a brace supporting his neck, a leg raised due to fracture, from behind the observation glass. The doctor had clearly stated that he couldn't personally go inside the ICCU due to Chan's critical condition which brought along high risk of infections. 

Thus Minho was sitting in the observation room, hearing the repetitive beeps from the machines,waiting for any movement or reaction from the male on the other side of the glass. Every steady rise and fall of Chan's chest filled Minho's lungs with hope, in small quantities. 

That was until a nurse took pity on the male who had not moved from the chair for around two hours, made him take a break, assuring that she wouldn't allow anyone else to enter the room without his permission. 

A widowmaker heart attack. 

No Minho was nowhere near ready to take that blow. He had been researching LAD blockage for the past forty minutes, since he left the doctor's office. He himself tried to reach for Chan's parents but still received no reply. It was like they suddenly vanished. 

Weren't they always lurking in the shadows to pounce on their son, every time he did something? 

Then why weren't they there to stop him from jumping off that bloody terrace. 

Minho was angry, he was frustrated. But above all he was scared. He was scared that something might happen. He didn't know what, but he didn't like the uneasiness in his chest. It felt like he was living his worst nightmare. He just wanted to wake up from this. 

He raised the paper cup to his lips, taking a sip of the now cold coffee, face scrunching at the bland taste. Hospital coffees always taste like water. He couldn't drink it now. 

Throwing the cup in the thrash, he pulled out his phone that was buzzing in his pocket. Unknown number. He didn't understand why all the calls he received since the morning had been from unknown numbers. 

Shaking his head he received the call before it disconnected “Hello?”

“Good evening sir, am I speaking to Mr. Lee Minho?”

“Yes, that's me. May I know who I am speaking with?”

“Hello sir, this is Moon Jaeho from the Express Courier Services. I am right now in your apartment building's lobby to deliver a courier.”

A courier. Minho frowned, who would send him a courier? “I'm currently out due to personal work but you can leave the package with the security downstairs. I'll collect it from there.”

“That's the thing sir, actually the courier is meant to be given directly to the recipient, the sender has paid for the express private service under which I can leave the package only with the recipient mentioned on the invoice and no one or no where else.”

Sitting back on one of the metal seats in the cafeteria, Minho leaned his head back resting it on the wall behind him. Jeongin shouldn't have sent the case papers by courier. “I'm right now at LifeShades Hospital. Do you think you could deliver me the package here?”

“LifeShades Hospital, the one in Sangam-dong right? Alright sir, I'll call you when I get there.”

Humming in response, Minho let his hand fall back on his lap, the phone screen going black after the call. He felt drained, mentally and emotionally. Was this what Chan had felt before taking such a drastic step? 

He shook his head, no this was not the time to think such stuff. Right now the first thing he had to do was to contact his junior. Yang Jeongin , twenty four year old male from Busan. He had joined their firm somewhere around seven to eight months back, freshly graduated from the law school. Minho had watched the new employee, whose thick Busan satoori was prominent whenever he spoke, work for a week and then decided that he had to take the kid with fox-like features under his wing. 

“Yes Minho-sunbaenim.” The twenty four year old's chirpy voice answered. This was another thing, the young lawyer was always polite. 

“Hyung Iyen-ah, call me hyung.” Minho could hear the light noise of the late evening traffic in the background, which meant Jeongin was driving back after work. 

“ Ah, yes. Hyung .”

“Are you driving right now?”

“ Yes, I just left the office. Why? Do you need something from there? I can turn my car and go grab it for you, whatever it is that you need. ”

“No, no. I don't need anything from the office. I just called to tell you that next time if I happen to leave the office early, and there are certain case papers that need to be reviewed or studied by me, then just leave them on my desk or if it's urgent then mail me a soft copy of those documents. Please don't courier the case papers. Try not to do this again, Jeongin.”

The call on the other side was silent for a few seconds before he spoke “ What case papers are you talking about hyung? I didn't send you any papers through courier .”

It was now Minho's turn to remain silent. Jeongin didn't send any courier. “Are you sure you haven't sent anything to my address through the Express Courier Services ?”

“ Uh no hyung, I'm sure I haven't sent you anything. I've never used any kind of courier service in Seoul. ”

Minho blinked. Jeongin didn't send anything. He blinked again pulling the phone away from his ear when his phone notified for a call waiting, the same unknown number. 

“ Hyung, is everything okay? You left the office in panic, and I'm sure you aren't at the Bar Association event right now. ”

Blinking out of his daze Minho assured “I'm fine Iyen, just some personal emergency. I've sent my apologies for not attending the event. I'll have to go now okay? Talk later.” he was up and taking long strides towards the hospital entrance.

“ Alright hyung, but please call me if you need any kind of help or support. ”

“You worry too much. I'll call you if I need anything but you need to take care of the office until I return. Bye.” There, he spotted a man standing beside a blue van, wearing a blue cap with ECS printed on it. 

“ Take care hyung. ” No, Minho didn't hear the younger's reply, too focused on reaching the van. 

A courier was literally something normal, then why did it clench Minho's guts, why since he was told about the courier for him he couldn't bring himself to rest? There was something that said this was not just a normal courier. Not at all. 

“Moon Jaeho-ssi?” The attorney asked, “Express Courier Services?” making the male shift his attention to him. 

“Lee Minho-ssi?” 

“Yes that's me,” He removed his ID card for the delivery man to check, who nodded and passed the package in his hand, after getting the delivery receipt signed. 

“Have a good night sir.” the male bowed before getting back in the van and driving off. 

The parcel weighed like nothing, but it felt heavy to Minho. And he wanted to reduce that weight as soon as possible, thus the next moment he was found sitting on one of the benches surrounding the hospital building, opening the plastic that covered what was inside. 

The book that fell out of the package didn't do anything to calm his nerves because that notebook, or to be more accurate, that journal was familiar to him. He had seen that several times, it was a common sighting for him. 

Because Chan owned the exact same journal and never once changed it over the years. 

✤

Dear Minho, 

 

I guess you've received the parcel if you are reading this letter right now. So before anything else I think I should apologize first. 

I'm sorry Min, I'm sorry for breaking the promise. 

I'm sorry for not reaching out when I should have.

I'm sorry for making you go through this pain. 

But I don't have it in me to continue, honestly. I can't hold my mask of being okay any longer. It is becoming suffocating for me, living. Now you'd say that I should have told you about this but everything has a limit doesn't it? You have your own life to live, your own dreams to achieve, your own problems to deal with and I don't want to bring more burden on you. 

By the time you get this parcel I might be dead gone, vanished from this planet forever, but I'll always be alive in your heart, in those moments we shared together. The time we spent together was filled with love, that love will never go away. Even if I'm gone, my love for you will always be there by your side. Because there's only one person whom I've loved more than myself and that is you, Lee Minho. I love you. 

This diary contains stuff, you'll get what I mean by it when you read it (because I know you've always wanted to read what I write in this journal). A suicide always becomes a police case, that's nothing new for you because as a lawyer you know how the legalities work. 

You also know how they are, my parents. If they find this book, and if they read it, they will do anything to destroy it. Hence I'm sending you this. Read it, keep it away from them. You know what to do with this book, the stuff written in it once you read it. They don't know I have something like this but you do. I know you'll know what to do next. This diary will be the evidence you might need. 

Seems like it's time for me to go now. 

I love you, Minho. I love you. 

But I'm sorry. I hope you forgive me. 

Forever Yours, 

Channie ♡

 

Chapter Text

‘Humans are selfish by nature.’ Thomas Hobbes said this in the year 1651 in his most famous book Leviathan. Hobbes argued that the only way to combat this anarchy was to give up our freedom to a powerful ruler, which he named the “Leviathan.” In his view, the Leviathan would keep order by ensuring that humans’ base instincts didn’t rise to the surface.

But he forgot to consider what would happen once this Leviathan, instead of keeping order, started to control these human instincts, started to control the human emotions? 

In those situations there would always be two outcomes, one, the humans will revolt and the ones who couldn't revolt chose a different path. 

Reading the letter that was carefully folded inside the diary, Minho understood that his boyfriend chose to use the different way. It's not like Chan never revolted, he did and Minho was there every time to hold him as his boyfriend crumbled to the ground, defeated. 

He didn't know how many times he had read the letter, but it was definitely not enough to take the edge off the pain he was going through. Was Chan feeling something like this? Helpless? Lonely? 

Minho was back in the observation room, sitting on the same metal chair. The diary was in his blazer, safely tucked in, away from prying eyes. He wanted to read it, everything written in between those hard covers, but he wanted to do it with a clear head and right now he was not in a condition to take another blow. 

With a small knock, the door opened and the nurse who was incharge of Chan peeked in with an apologetic smile. “Bang-ssi's parents are here.” 

“And the drama begins.” he muttered under his breath, taking one last look at his boyfriend, before following the nurse outside. 

The reception lobby was still buzzing with people coming in and going out but in midst of all these, Minho could clearly identify the Bang couple, especially after taking a look at the male nurse's expression from behind the desk. 

Bang Moonsik, or as he loved to address himself 'The Man of the Bang Family' had a deep frown on his face, as if every single thing was nowhere near his high standards. He was speaking– no– shouting and spitting out insults to the staff of the hospital, his hands either banging the wooden surface or aggressively pointing at the doctors or nurses around him. 

Behind him stood his ideal wife, Ahn Bora, sniffing and wiping her tears, not making any attempt to stop her husband from the verbal abuse towards the medical practitioners. Minho couldn't say whether those tears were real or not, but he'd like to believe that at least the almost death of their son had pushed some sense in them. 

“ Bang-nim .” Minho's words caught the older male's attention and the frown on his face deepened. The attorney had to be respectful towards the male, after all he was his boyfriend's father at the end of the day. 

“You let this outsider in but are not allowing me, the patient's father, to see him!”

Scratch that, Minho hated Chan's father with his entire heart. But he had to be civil here. 

“Sir, Lee-ssi had asked us to inform him if anyone comes and that's what we did.” the nurse incharge explained, adding “It was for the patient's safety.”

“Does he own this hospital? Last I checked he was a struggling attorney, when did you become a doctor Lee?” The last part was directed towards Minho, full of venom. 

Minho took a deep breath, biting his tongue. Don't snap, stay calm. “Hong-ssi,” Minho calmly called the nurse, “Could you arrange a room for us? To speak, privately .”

She shared a look with one of the doctor's and nodded, guiding them to a private waiting room. 

“Bang-nim, if you may please.” the younger male motioned towards the direction the nurse walked. 

Minho watched the male grumble something, which he knew was something about him, and walk past him, his wife following closely behind. 

He waited until the nurse closed the door, and her footsteps faded into the background before speaking. “Ten hours,” he started, his neck turning red with anger, “It's been fucking ten hours that your son is on death bed and you come now!”

“Watch your tongue Lee!” Moonsik scowled, taking an intimidating step towards Minho. 

“Or what?” Minho copied the action, distance between the two males decreasing, increasing Ahn Bora's anxiousness. 

“Moonsik,” she grabbed onto her husband's bicep pleading, “Let's not fight. Remember what he said.”

Minho rolled his eyes watching the male huff in anger and pull his arm away from her grasp before his eyes made contact with those of Bora's. The annoyance in her eyes on seeing him reminded him of something that made him scoff. Ah the entire family hates me, how could I forget that. 

“Why are you here, Lee?” 

“Excuse me? Your son is in a coma and you are asking this?” Minho couldn't understand what was wrong with them. “First you are MIA for the past ten hours and when you come, you have questions regarding why I am here instead of asking how is your son doing?”

“You don't have to worry about our son. His parents are here to take care of him. You can leave.” Bora extended her hand pointing at the door. “Right now.”

“Like hell I'm leaving!”

“You don't have any other option Lee.” Moonsik spoke, his voice holding authority. “You leave by yourself or I make you leave through my ways.”

Minho knew the older man had something up his sleeves, or he wouldn't be so confident. Something was going on and he had to find out what. “Where were you when the hospital called?”

“We had to take care of some important stuff.”

Minho raised his eyebrows at the reply, his blood boiled on hearing those words. “What is important than your own son committing suicide?” he spat. 

“Lawyer Park had asked–”

“Shut up Bora!”

Lawyer. That single word struck him. Why did they have to see a lawyer? Was meeting a lawyer more important than their own son on death bed? 

“Your son jumped off the fourteenth floor, and the first thing you do is go to a lawyer instead of the hospital. Above that you don't even have the courtesy to answer any of the calls from the hospital! What in the world is going on here?” Minho was angry would be an understatement. He was furious, his blood was boiling. 

Even after so many years of knowing Chan he still couldn't figure out what type of parents they were. He couldn't say they were absent from their son's life because they were not, either of them was always lurking around, keeping a track of what their son did. Negligent, yes. But again they were aware of every single thing he did against their wishes. 

Hell they had tried so hard, especially Moonsik, tried so hard to keep Minho away from Chan but he failed every time. Hence they resorted to showing their displeasure towards the attorney by throwing jabs at him. Minho was now used to this treatment. 

“This is my family matter and I'd like to keep it within the family. You as an outsider should be aware about where the boundaries are.” 

Hearing the word family Minho couldn't help but snort. “Family! That word sounds like a joke when you say it Bang-nim.”

Moonsik poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue, his glare fixed at Minho. “So you won't leave?”

“No.” he replied curtly. 

“Alright then.” Moonsik nodded, stepping away from him. “You leave me with no choice.”

What is he doing? Minho watched the man type something on his phone or better, text someone. A single ping indicated the reply and whatever it was made Moonsik smirk in satisfaction. “Don't tell me that I didn't warn you Lee.”

Minho furrowed his brows in confusion “What do yo–”

He couldn't complete his statement because the next moment the hospital security barged into the room, surrounding him. 

“Lee-ssi, I would request you to leave the hospital premises immediately.”

“Excuse me!” Minho couldn't help with the scandalized look that took over his face. Why was he being asked to leave the hospital? “Why do I have to leave?”

The buffed male who appeared to be the head of security spoke. “We've received a complaint against you and hence you have to leave right away or we'll have to force you.” 

“Like hell you'll force me out!” Minho snapped, stepping away from the security guards pointing an accusing finger at Moonsik. “What the fuck did you do?” 

“Me?” Moonsik pointed at himself, the smirk never leaving his face. “I just took care of the hospital's decorum.”

“Hospital's decorum!” Minho scoffed, taking a big step forward, standing in Moonsik's personal space. He wanted to grab the older male by his collar, throw a punch or two but being a lawyer he was aware, if he laid a single finger on him, Moonsik would waste no time in suing Minho for civil battery or assault. 

“Lee-ssi this is a no violence zone. You can't do this!” Both of Minho's arms were suddenly held behind him, restricting his movement. 

It was Moonsik who stepped forward, his face directly in front of Minho, “Walk away or they'll actually force you out. My friend here,” he patted the head of security's shoulder who nodded in return “Does what he says. Now we wouldn't want a reputed attorney to be dragged out of a hospital, would we Lee?”

Every word was a jab, Moonsik didn't use his fists but Minho felt the punch directly in his guts. He glared at the male, knowing he had lost, he didn't have any other option than to comply with whatever was happening. He was outnumbered here. 

“Leave me.” he tried to pull his hands away from the guards who didn't budge. “I said let me go. I'm walking out!” 

With another nod from their head, they loosened their grip around Minho's arms, letting him go. 

Straightening his watch, Minho grabbed his coat, making sure the diary was still safely tucked inside and stood in front of Moonsik. “This is not over Bang-nim. I haven't given up yet” 

“You will give up, Lee. Sooner or later you will.”

Sending one last glare towards the couple he walked out of the room, the sound of his leather shoes resonating through the walls of the hospital. Minho didn't stop or turn around until he sat inside his car, the door slamming shut loudly. He was angry, so angry that he wanted to scream. And that's what he did. Screamed out his frustration within the closed doors of his car until his face went red. 

It was the first time in so many years that Minho felt lonely. He listened to the light patter of rain against the roof of his car, his phone now in his hand. The last message from Chan taunted him. ‘Good morning baby♡. It's such a beautiful day today! I just hope it doesn't rain :(’ . Because Chan hated when it rained. 

He didn't know whom to call. 

Chan was always there to listen and help whenever he needed someone, whenever he found himself stuck in a situation, he would drop a text to his boyfriend and boom, everything started falling back in its place. This thought made him realize the times when Chan had tried to tell him about his emotions. Now he couldn't help but blame himself for not saying something more, something reassuring to his boyfriend. 

Chan was always there for him, but who was there for Chan? 

Minho's thumb hovered over the call button in front of his boyfriend's name. “How will he answer, idiot?” his voice cracked. He felt like someone was squeezing his heart and choking him. He was alone, he didn't know what to do. Until his phone buzzed with an incoming call. 

Incoming call

Hannie… 

He couldn't help but suck in a deep breath to stop himself from crying as he accepted the call. 

“Hyungie, where are you?” hearing his best friend's voice something squeezed in his chest pushing all his emotions out. 

“Sungie…” he sobbed “Sungie…”

“Hey hey, Minho hyung. What happened? Why are you crying? Is everything okay?”

Shaking his head, he hiccuped “Nothing is okay. Every–everything is over. It's over. Everything is over.”

“Hyungie please take a deep breath for me, please. Slowly tell me what happened. What is over?” worry was clearly audible in Jisung's voice. He was worried for his friend because Lee Minho never cried. 

“Channie… he…his parents…” Minho couldn't understand what to say, where to start from. So much happened in a single day. He had never felt so helpless in his life. 

“What about Channie hyung?” Jisung didn't know what to make out of Chan's name in between Minho's cries, and he reached at a single conclusion. “Did Channie hyung break up with you?”

“No! Oh my god no!” Minho all but screamed. 

“Then what happened hyung?”

“He–Channie–he's in the hospital.” 

Minho heard Jisung gasp on the call in shock “Hospital? Since when? What happened? Is he sick?”

“He's not, I wish he was sick instead.” Minho took in a shuddering breath hearing a faint then from the call. “Channie–he committed suicide, jumped off his building terrace. This morning or afternoon. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know what to do. Sungie I'm so lost. So fucking lost. I miss him, I miss Chan. Hannie, I miss him.”

Jisung's heart broke as he heard his best friend break down. He didn't have the heart to even ask if Chan was alive or not but if he was in the hospital the entire day which meant that his hyung was alive. “Where are you hyung?”

“Ho–hospital, no, parking lot, Lifeshades Hospital, Sangam-dong.” 

“Hyung just stay there, you are in no condition to drive right now. Stay wherever you are, I'm coming to get you. Don't worry, I'm on my way. ”

✤

06.03.2019

Just one cut

It won't hurt

No one can see

No one can know

 

Keep it hidden

Never open

Your pained heart

Will bleed open

 

It's red

Red's love

Is it really red? 

Oh it's just blood

 

To keep it away

This poem is here

But the brain knows

The answers are here

 

That pinching pain

Lightens the heart

Make sure it's cleaned

Use a wet cloth

 

It drips and drips

Trailing dark patch

The color of love

No it's no match

 

Just one cut

It won't hurt

 

— Chris… 

«I write so I can breathe»

Chapter Text

17.06.2019

Why am I such a pushover? 

Why do I give so much to people but in return receive nothing? And if I decide to keep myself first I'm tagged as a selfish person. 

But why do these words hurt so much? Is it because it's my own parents who say it? It's like my words fall to deaf ears. 

Do I even matter here? 

—Chris… 

«I write so I can breathe»

✤

“You do. You always do.” Minho sighed, taking off his glasses and burying his face in his palms. The digital clock on his desk read 5:53 am, but outside the window it was still dark. Dark gray clouds of storm floated in the sky, accompanied by strong winds. The small opening in his window made the winds sound like an animal howling in agony. 

Minho watched the raindrops slowly cascade down the window, one after the other. It felt serene, but that calmness was short lived as the next moment loud thunder echoed, lighting up the dark sky for a second before everything went back to being quiet. He still couldn't understand why there was a thunderstorm in February. 

The back of his head was throbbing with pain, the result of high stress and low sleep. He couldn't bring himself to sleep. No matter how much he tried. Caffeine, his body was calling out for some caffeine. 

He closed the diary, bookmarking the page and placing it back into the desk's drawer. His living room was quiet, except for the silent whooshing of the ceiling fan, and soft snores coming from the bundle of blankets on the couch, where Jisung was asleep. 

Last night Jisung found his best friend right where he asked him to stay, in his car. His eyes were swollen, staring into space. He looked so lost and small. Gone was the fierce attorney, Minho looked like a shell of the person he was. Jisung thanked the gods above that Chan was alive, he didn't die. Because then Minho would have been inconsolable. 

A faint smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the small kitchen, as his cup filled. 

“Hyung?”

Startled by the new voice Minho turned around to find his friend standing by the center island, hands wrapped around his torso, eyes squinted with sleep and hair disheveled. 

“Did I wake you up Sungie?”

Jisung shook his head, walking inside “Coffee, the fragrance.”

Taking his cup he turned to his friend “You want some?”

Jisung shook his head again, taking a proper look at the other male's face. The dark circles around his eyes were quite prominent apart from his tired face. “Did you even sleep?”

“Around three hours.”

All Jisung could do was sigh as he watched the male walk back into his room, closing the door behind. He thought about the time when Minho had announced to their group of three about his new relationship. He was oozing out with happiness, that evening his smile was the brightest they had ever seen. 

Ever since then, on their every weekend dinner, Minho had something to share about his boyfriend, how he helped him out or how he surprised him or just simply how lucky and happy he was to have a boyfriend like Chan in his life. Hyunjin made it his responsibility to fake a gag every time Minho spoke anything related to their romantic endeavors. 

Around ten months into the relationship, Chan started joining them during their weekend dinner plans. But his joining was not a weekly occurrence, that they understood when they saw the male become jittery after a call from his mom asking him about his whereabouts right after a missed call from his father. 

That night Minho received a text from his boyfriend who said that they were going on a ten day family trip and due to network issues he wouldn't be able to contact him. 

That was the last time Chan joined them for the weekend dinner, which happened to be their one year anniversary. 

Jisung looked at the closed door as he snuggled into the blankets on the couch. He couldn't even bring himself to imagine the level of pain his hyung was going through right now. But he knew that whatever the future may hold, both him and Hyunjin will be there behind Minho as his support. 

Sungie :

Call in sick 

Bring breakfast 

At hyungie's

Here since last night

[06:17]

✤

21.07.2019

Honestly, time is so sly. Like it just slips away and you never seem to notice. I read this quote once "The most beautiful moments always seem to accelerate and slip beyond one’s grasp just when you want to hold onto them for as long as possible."

It's true. 

Today marks one year of our relationship. Since morning we were together, dad was not in the city so I had to make the most out of it. We went trekking in the morning, skipped uni, then I surprised him with the lunch date that I had planned in his favorite Italian place. I had been saving for this day for such a long time. 

As evening came by we strolled by the Han river, it was so peaceful, walking hand in hand, without the fear of anything. And yes! Jisung and Hyunjin were the biggest surprise today. 

Apparently it was Saturday today which happens to be their weekend dinner day. So they invited me as well to join them. I have joined them on several occasions, but they had specially planned for this small surprise at the Korean BBQ place for celebrating our anniversary. 

I really enjoy spending time with them. They don't make me feel like an outsider. 

Well everything was going so good since the morning so something definitely had to go wrong. Dad was supposed to be back home tomorrow evening but he was home since 5 in the evening and I got to know about it after 8 when he called me. He wasn't that happy with me hanging out with 'friends'. 

Thanks to Felix I was able to text Min that I'm going on a ten day vacation with my family and due to bad network I wouldn't be able to contact him. Honestly I don't like lying to him but hey it's not a complete lie, my phone will be out of reach as dad has it now. And yes I can't show up in front of Minho with a swollen eye and sprained wrist. It's my left wrist, so yeah I can still write. At least that's good. 

—Chris… 

«I write so I can breathe»

✤

The television was playing some drama, Hyunjin didn't even know the name of, forget about the story line. Waking up to a cryptic message from Jisung was nowhere in his day's agenda. But asking him to bring breakfast and lunch at Minho's place, the place where they actually received homemade food, courtesy of Minho, stirred something in him. 

He had been here since nine in the morning, and currently it was past two in the afternoon. After long trials they had convinced Minho to work from the living room instead of being cooped up in his bedroom. 

Hyunjin shared a look with Jisung when the audio of the television became clear. He stopped again. They had been keeping an eye on their hyung, who said that he was fine, but in reality had been overthinking. Every now and then the clicking of the keyboard would stop and when they turned their attention, they found Minho staring into space in some deep thought. He'll share. 

“Remember our first anniversary? The BBQ dinner?” Minho's voice sounded so distant to them. 

Sharing a concerned look they nodded “Yes we do.” They did, they clearly did remember that evening. 

“Chan texted that night that he was going on a ten day vacation with his family, didn't he?” Minho was getting into something, they could sense it in the way he spoke. 

“Yeah.”

“Well, he lied!” 

Minho was angry, his voice shook as he spoke those words. Was this anger directed at Chan? Neither of the two knew. They waited for the eldest to complete his statement. 

“There was no family vacation. Especially not when Channie had a swollen eye and sprained wrist and the text was sent by his cousin Felix.”

Minho was trying his best to wrap his head around this new news.He never knew, he never tried to look into it because a family going on sudden vacation is not something fishy is it? Now when he thought back he remembered asking Chan about the almost faded cut at the corner of his mouth. His boyfriend had said it was an accident while shaving, which again was a normal occurrence. 

“Wait! When did this happen?” Jisung straightened in his seat. 

“Apparently the same night. He texted me about the trip, the network issue. But I never dived deep into it because a family trip is a normal thing isn't it?” 

Now that they looked closely, Minho was angry, but his anger was directed towards his own self rather than his boyfriend. He was blaming himself for not paying close attention to such minute things. 

“Hyung, how do you know about this?” Hyunjin asked, pointing out the obvious point that Jisung missed. How did Minho know that Chan had lied to him? 

Minho looked at his two friends, contemplating whether he should or shouldn't show them the courier he received. Deciding in favor of it, he stood up from the chair walked into his room and returned back with the brown journal. 

“This,” he showed them the book. “I received it last evening through courier.” 

Minho could see several questions arising in his friends' eyes. Hence he decided to answer them. “It's Channie's.” he saw realization dawn upon them. “He had this mailed to me before…you know.” 

An awkward silence fell into the room as Minho left the statement hanging in middle. They understood what he wanted to say. The silence was interrupted by the attorney's phone which he answered promptly. 

“Yes Jeongin?”

“ Hyung, we have a client here who wishes to meet you specifically .”

Minho pulled the journal away from the duo's grasp making them whine, and went back to his laptop. 

“What's the case about?”

“ Abetment to suicide. ”

Letting out a sigh Minho thought Why am I getting cases related to suicide now?. “Iyen-ah, can you handle this case?”

“ I can! I offered as well, but he said that he needs to talk to you specifically about the case–Just a sec–yes?–But Lee-ssi–Okay I'll ask him. Hyung his name is Lee Felix, he said you'd recognize him by him name. Do you?”

Chapter Text

This was the second time in the past thirty hours that Minho had driven over the speed limit. The moment he heard his junior say the name Lee Felix, he suddenly became too attentive to everything around him. Felix was there. Chan's cousin Felix was waiting in his office, an attorney's office to file a suit. A suit for abetment to suicide. 

There were so many scenarios forming in his head, as he parked his car at its designated spot and rushed through the sliding doors, punching his ID in, ignoring the surprised yet questioning looks on the people especially his division head as he entered the elevator and pressed the sixth floor. 

“Weren't you working from home Minho?” Kwon Taejeong, Minho's division head asked, looking confused with the male's appearance. 

“A client wanted to meet me urgently.”

The division head raised an eyebrow, taking into the other attorney's outfit. Gray sweats paired with black hoodie and a black overcoat. “Did you forget about the meeting with this client?” No matter how lenient and accommodating Taejeong was with the attorneys in his division, he couldn't stand when they took this liberty for granted. But the dark circles around Minho's eyes along with his tired, disheveled look didn't go unnoticed by the older male. 

“He is a new client, he…he came here to meet me specifically.” Minho couldn't say that the client was his boyfriend's cousin, not now, not until he understands what exactly happened. He just hoped he was Chan's cousin Felix and not someone else with the same name. The elevator dinged indicating they had reached the sixth floor and Minho hastily bowed and walked out saying “I'm in a bit of a hurry right now but I'll tell you everything in detail later sunbaenim !”

Entering his section, his eyes immediately caught on to the new figure seated in front of Jeongin with hunched shoulders. Jeongin looked up from the monitor, eyes widening on seeing his senior before frowning at the male. 

“What the fuck are you wearing hyung?” Forgot to mention, Attorney Yang to a certain extent was a fashionmonger, ‘Dress according to the occasion’ was his life motto which he made sure everyone around him followed. 

Minho blinked, looking at his outfit then at his junior “Language Attorney Yang.”

Jeongin's sudden outburst made the other male turn in his seat to look at the reason for the attorney's reaction, thus reminding Jeongin about his presence. 

“Oh–yeah–uh, Lee-ssi,” Jeongin addressed the male sitting on the chair watching their interaction. “Lee-ssi, this is Attorney Lee.” he pointed his hand towards his senior, making Felix stand up. 

Minho extended his hand towards the freckled male, who stood there in his oversized white tshirt and blue jeans with a cross body bag across his torso. The attorney had never met his boyfriend's cousin but he hoped that the male in front of him was actually him. 

“Lee Felix Yongbok.” Felix introduced himself, his deep voice took Minho by surprise as he shook his hand. 

“Lee Minho, please have a seat.” Minho motioned the male towards his desk with a polite smile, pulling out a chair for him before walking around the desk, removing his overcoat and sitting on his leather chair opposite him. 

“Before we get to the case, could you clarify one thing?” Minho started carefully, watching how confusion took over both Felix's and Jeongin's expression “Are you perhaps Lee Felix, cousin of Bang Chan?”

Silence stretched in the room, as Minho watched Felix's expression change from guarded, stoic to one of recognition. His eyes were blown wide in shock, but the slight gloss in them with the quiver in his lower lip gave out the emotions the male had been suppressing inside himself. 

A slight nod, followed by a sniff and some more nods, Felix finally found his voice to reply a small “Ye–Yes.” He felt like his stomach was in knots, Felix felt like he could trust this man in front of him. “He– hyungie –he told you about me?” The freckled male had so many questions brewing inside him. 

Minho could feel the sudden splurge in the male's emotions, he could feel the turmoil that Felix was feeling inside himself. He knew that feeling, he knew that relief. If whatever Chan had told him about his cousin was true, that their relationship was more of brothers than mere cousins, then Minho could clearly understand what Felix was going through right now. “How could he not tell me about his cousin who meant the world to him?”

“He would,” Felix gave a sad smile, shifting his attention to the desk.

“I guess you are here for him.”

“Yeah.” Felix gave a hesitant nod, shifting in his seat, looking at the elder with hope. 

Minho could clearly notice the fatigue on the other's face. Just like his, Felix's eyes were swollen and the dark circles around his eyes were visible now. He looked behind Felix and met Jeongin's eyes who was clearly eavesdropping on their conversation. He could see the questions swirling in his hoobae's face but he couldn't continue this conversation here, in the open, where anyone could walk in or overhear them. 

“Iyen-ah, please arrange a meeting room for us and Felix, would you like some coffee? You look really tired.”

Both Felix and Jeongin wanted to point out that he literally looked like a shell of a person, dead person, but refrained from it. Instead Felix nodded again with a soft iced americano. 

“Order an Iced Americano and a sandwich for Felix, two double shot espresso for me and anything that you want to have then join us in the meeting room with your laptop and notepad.”

✤

23.09.2019

It's late like around 3 am I guess. So should I change the entry date to 24th or leave it as 23rd? I don't know, does it even matter? Might as well combine both days because tomorrow or in this case today will be the same. 

I was unable to sleep, then I realized I hadn't written yet. Yes crying does that to you lol. 

Now I'm sitting with the night light on, don't want to wake Lixie up. I'm thankful that he is a deep sleeper or else I literally have no idea what would have happened if he had heard everything mom said. He doesn't know half of the things that happen here, and I want to keep it that way, don't want to scare him. 

She… my mom… I don't even know what to say. Honestly. The words she uses are filled with so much venom. I can't explain what I feel. It stabs right in my heart. 

Speaking about heart, the chest pains are back. I'm trying so hard not to cry more, so so hard because that might be the reason for the pain. A thought crossed my mind just now. What if this pain is the start of something serious? I wish it is. I really wish. But will it change my parents' behavior towards me? 

Dad hates me, he has reminded me of that every chance he gets. So me dying getting some chronic illness, will it bring mom to at least care for me? Will it make them forget that apart from being gay I'm their son as well? 

She came in and blamed me. Said I was the reason for their fights, their unhappiness. She said if ever dad divorced her, she'd kill me herself. She…she said and it hurt. It still hurts. 

Fuck my chest hurts so much. I need to lay down. I feel like I might get a heart attack if this pain continues. I'll take some painkillers, yeah that's right. I should. Can I overdose on painkillers? 

— Chris… 

«I write so I can breathe»

✤

“Yesterday when I returned in the evening, uncle's lawyer friend was in the living room with them, they stopped their discussion as I entered. Auntie told me that I had a parcel for me and then asked me to stay inside. Around ten minutes later I heard the main door close and went out to see that all three of them went out.” Felix's leg bounced as he recalled the events of the previous evening. “I understood what was happening when I opened the courier.”

“Channie sent you a courier as well?” 

“Even you received one?” Felix's eyes were wide with surprise when Minho nodded in reply. “But, I feel that uncle and auntie did a thorough search of our room after getting the news. Hyungie always had his desk arranged in a specific order, his bag always was under the desk. But when I went into the room, the stuff on his desk was misplaced, and his bag was on the chair. I don't know why but I feel like they were searching for something.” he sighed, thinking about the brown notebook that he didn't find anywhere in the room. 

“I think they found hyungie's personal diary, it was nowhere to be found in the room. I searched everywhere. He has written several things in there, I accidentally read it once, he must have slept while writing it on the desk. If they have the diary, they'll destroy it completely, I don't know what to do now. That diary was the one thing I know would have helped me strengthen my case here, but it's gone…It's gone like it wasn't ever there.” 

Felix was aware that his brother maintained a journal, had seen him write when he had a fight with his parents but never asked him about it, until one night when he woke up in the middle of the night to see Chan hunched over the desk, sleeping with swollen eyes. That was the night after his birthday, he didn't come into the room until late. After carefully tucking Chan in his bed he took notice of the book that was laid open on the desk and on reading the open page he understood why his brother didn't come to bed until late and immediately went to the bathroom to get the first aid kit. 

The brown diary, that right now was in Minho's desk drawer. “I have it.” Minho confessed watching confusion cloud the younger's expression. “The courier he sent me had the diary. Channie knew they'd do something like that. It's at my place right now.”

“Please keep it safe.” was all Felix said, shoulders dropping in relief, they'd be alright. 

“I'm surprised Moonsik hasn't installed cameras or wiretapped your room or the entire house for that.” he shook his head, frowning on noticing his empty cup. “It wouldn't have been a shock especially after the stunt he pulled yesterday in the hospital to kick me out.”

“You met him?”

“You were kicked out?”

Both Felix and Jeongin spoke together, the latter ducking his head in an apology on looking at his senior's expression. 

“The hospital called me when his parents were unreachable, as I was his emergency contact. They came in around nine at night, literally created a scene at the hospital, told me how I was not welcomed and warned me to leave immediately. When I said that I won't be leaving Channie alone with them, Moonsik did what he does best, made sure that I had no option but to walk out.”

“Must have bribed someone.” Felix mumbled, shaking his head, aware about his uncle and his ways of dealing with such situations. “Did you tell them about you and Chan?”

“No, not yet.” Minho tapped his pen on the notepad. “They'll anyway know about us once the prosecution enters.”

The freckled male hummed, internally debating on asking the attorney about his cousin, how his brother was doing now. He was getting tired of being kept in the dark since everything happened. He could clearly see the exhaustion, the distant look in Minho's eyes whenever he spaced out. “How is he–hyungie, I mean. Did you see him after… uh… the accident ?”

Accident . That was one way to frame it. 

Felix thought if only he had the courage to take action on hearing and witnessing the things that happened when everyone believed he was deep asleep, maybe his brother would have been the one to introduce Felix and Minho, with his excited smile that never failed to light up the room. Instead of hiding under the blankets, listening to his cousin trying to muffle his sobs until he fell asleep, he could have just walked over and hugged him, held him close, gave him hope that everything would be okay, that he was not alone, he had his cousin, his brother with him. 

“He's fine, critical, but breathing, so that's good… yeah, that's it.” Minho nodded. No he didn't want to add the part where Chan had flatlined during the surgery, the younger had enough worries on his plate neither he wanted to add that but and increase his worries. 

The back of his eyes burnt with tears, his heart squeezed in fear as he remembered Dr Yoon's words. “The decision should be made quickly. One week at the most. With the condition in which Bang-ssi is, we really can't predict when his heart might fail.”

“But?” Minho blinked, a failed attempt to bring his emotions back under control. “Your expression says there's something more that you are not telling me Attorney Lee.”

The attorney didn't know what bothered him more, him being unable to control his emotions or Felix addressing him as an attorney. In any other case it wouldn't have mattered, but this was Felix, his boyfriend's brother, he didn't want any kind of formalities between them. “Hyung,” he started, “Call me hyung, it's not like we are strangers.”

He watched Felix's face, asking him for the truth and sighed. You were right Channie he thought because those pleading eyes could never be ignored. “Channie…he needs surgery…urgently. His LAD is blocked, which if not operated within a week would reduce his chances of survival from low to none.”

Chapter Text

07.12.2019

We fought. 

Basically he snapped, but we haven't spoken about it until now. Other reason being that dad was back home so I couldn't continue the conversation. The topic was not something big, but it was about my family. I know he hates them, it's nothing new for me. Sometimes my brain says that I should even hate them after everything they have done. But honestly I can't. 

Hate is a strong word. I know I should but I can't bring myself to hate them. They are my parents after all. I know they are manipulative, they know how to emotionally abuse me, how to make me feel like I'm at the top of the world and then push me from there. July was the last time dad had physically abused me, or to say it was the last time that the damage was visible. Maybe it was because the doctor had questioned about the reason for such bruises. 

But I still can't bring myself to say that I hate them. I dislike them, yes. If given a chance would I like to change my parents, yes. 

We were good since the morning, then while texting I told him about what I overheard my parents talk about which shifted into our future. He said how I should start doing something for myself, ignoring everything they say or do and I replied that it's not as easy as it appears to be. Min mentioned that when he was being mistreated then I was the first one to step in and speak for him, so why can't I do it for myself? Now that I actually think about it, his question was valid. Why couldn't I stand for myself? 

But that time I had a reply ‘ Why are you suddenly so adamant about it? ’ and his response was instant ‘ Because I love you, I love you and it fucking hurts seeing you go through all that.’

I didn't have a reply for that. All I could come up with was a dumb ‘ Why do you love me then? ’

I guess that was the moment he actually snapped because knowingly or unknowingly he brought up my fear ‘ So tell me what should I do? Break up with you? Yeah that's right, I'll leave you alone to deal with that manipulative family of yours. ’

I didn't reply, I didn't know what to reply. I actually mess up things that should be easy, don't I? I won't be shocked if tomorrow he actually breaks up. After all who would willingly stay by a person like me. 

—Chris… 

«I write so I can breathe»

✤

“Here,” Minho handed Felix his visiting card, “I've written my personal number on the back. Feel free to contact me whenever you want.”

Flipping the card, Felix removed his phone and saved the number, sending a quick text to the other. “That's me.” he informed, on hearing the notification sound. “Minho hyung , please keep me updated with his condition.”

The addressed male could feel the younger's worry seeping through his skin, blending with his prevailing worries on the same thing. His thoughts wandered to the previous day, the night in the car where he cried his heart out, how he wanted to feel someone's, Cham's warmth against him, how he wanted his head to be cradled to a chest as he sobbed. Coming back to the present, he could see the same longing and loneliness in the younger's eyes. 

Minho understood those whirlwinds of emotions. 

Felix didn't have anyone to go to, talk about what he's been feeling since he got to know that his brother tried to kill himself. He had been dealing with his anguish alone, just like the attorney. But Minho had Jisung and Hyunjin, his friends who didn't leave him alone since they heard the news. He didn't know if the younger had someone that held him while he cried, did he even cry? Or was he all alone in the room he shared with Chan, thinking about nothing but everything at the same time. 

Poor man couldn't even go to see his brother in the hospital due to fear of Moonsik. 

“Yongbok,” he started “I promise, everything will be alright.” 

It had been over six hours since Minho had made that promise. He remembered the freckled male bowing and asking to keep him updated about his brother’s condition, promising that he’ll try to make sure that his uncle signs the papers for surgery as soon as possible. But Minho knew, if Moonsik didn't sign those papers he himself would do it, he just wanted his boyfriend out of danger. 

After Felix had left, the attorney had another person waiting for him with several questions swirling in his dark eyes. “Let's go get an early dinner.” he recommended to his junior who without any questions joined him. Their dinner started quite, discussing about other cases that came in, until Jeongin decided to ask “The abetment to suicide victim, you seem to know him.”

Already prepared for this question, Minho narrated everything that was important for him to know. How the victim was actually his own boyfriend, the reason he left in such a hurry the previous day. He told about his interaction with Chan's parents, how Bora had let some Lawyer Park's name slip. He explained to the younger why he couldn't himself be incharge if this. “Iyen-ah Channie is my boyfriend, I am directly related to the victim here. The prosecutor will definitely put me on the list of suspects, I will be called in for interrogation. Hence I'm asking you to take care of this case, I want you to stay in contact with whoever the prosecutor in charge will be and hand them all the evidence we've got today through Yongbok. The journal, I'll myself hand it over to the prosecution.”

“Prosecutor Kim Seungmin.” he read the message from Jeongin, stating the name and other details about the prosecutor appointed for Chan's case. “I hope we meet tomorrow.”

✤

08.12.2019

So, we met today. I honestly didn't know how to act or what to say after our fight yesterday. But that was until Minho reached across the table to hold my hand and apologized for everything he said yesterday in the heat of the moment. He said that it was never his intention to hurt me in any way and bringing up my fear of being abandoned was really uncalled for from his side. 

We talked for a while, he bought me my favorite waffles as an apology and promised that he would never do anything like that again. If in future we'd had any such fights or misunderstandings, we would communicate and not snap at each other. I agree with that. There is nothing that a good conversation cannot fix, except for my parents. Lol. 

In the end we made a promise to each other that we'll never go to bed angry, whatever problems arise between us, we will make sure to come to a common ground before we go to sleep. So that's good isn't it? 

Overall the day went good, calm and good. After coming back, Felix and I spent some time watching anime and snacking on whatever we found. Dad bought a cake today, I don't know why, but it really felt good having dinner with the entire family together at the table, no one fighting, everyone happy. It feels like a dream. I'm going to sleep with a smile today. It feels like everything is going to be really good in the future. 

—Chris… 

«I write so I can breathe»

✤

In the eight hours Minho had been at the hospital the previous day, he did one thing that kept his mind at peace the entire day when he couldn't go to see Chan; exchanging numbers with both the nurses incharge. If Moonsik could bribe the security, then it was not a sin to bribe the nurses just to be updated with his boyfriend's condition. He texted nurse Hong asking about any improvement, who replied that he was stable and there were no signs that raised concerns. 

Yeah Minho could sleep with that. 

What the attorney was not expecting was a call from the nurse at two in the night. He could only imagine the worst case scenario when he read the name blinking on his screen. “What happened?” words rushed out as soon as he received the call. 

“Chan-ssi had a postoperative seizure. He's been taken for an MRI.”

“I–I'll be there in twenty.”

Dropping his phone on the bed, he clambered around his room changing out of his pyjamas grabbing his coat, keys, wallet and finally his phone before leaving the house. Driving was not an option for him tonight, he had been drinking before bed. So he hailed a cab, sent a text to Jisung before that man would start worrying about his whereabouts and tried to control his nerves as the hospital building came into view. 

The moment Minho reached the hospital, he immediately headed to the radiology department, internally sighing when no one stopped him from entering. I don't want to deal with him now. He cursed under his breath on seeing Moonsik sitting on one of the chairs outside. The opening of the automatic doors caught his attention, making him shift his attention to the attorney who had his eyes fixed on him. “Lee.”

“Bang-nim.” Minho nodded, a disinterested gesture instead of a proper bow. 

There were no words exchanged between the two males for the rest forty five minutes they sat on the metal bench. Neither was interested in starting a small talk with the other. Hell they didn't even want each other there. But yet, Minho, for his boyfriend and Moonsik, because his lawyer had asked him to, decided to stay silent instead of grabbing each other's throat. 

Minho was the first to stand up when he saw Dr. Yoon walking out with a female doctor whom he assumed to be a radiologist. “I'll send the results to your mail.” the attorney heard her speak, before she went towards what he assumed to be her office. 

“Lee-ssi, Bang-ssi.” The doctor said, “Please meet me in my office.” 

Nodding both the males followed the doctor, taking a seat on the individual chairs inside the office as requested. “Have you made the decision about the surgery yet?”

Minho knew this was coming the moment he received the call. “Actually–” 

“Is the surgery really necessary? Don't you have any other way except for surgery?” Moonsik straightened in his seat, as he spoke, interrupting Minho. 

“Bang-ssi, if the blockage would have been below forty percent then it would not be a major concern, if not treated it could become a concern but that would be for the future. Your son already had eighty five percent of his LAD blocked when he was brought in, which means he has been dealing with the symptoms for over years now. At this stage the chances of a heart failure are really high, especially after the injuries he has sustained due to falling from a height.” the doctor shifted his attention to his computer screen, clicking on the document he received. 

“I just received the scan reports,” he started, making Minho's heart beat faster. “Postoperative seizures are a common occurrence after major surgeries, especially neurological surgeries, but in Chan-ssi's case it's a matter of concern. The blockage has led to reduction in oxygen supply to his brain. Again it comes back to the surgery.” Doctor Yoon gave a tight lipped smile to the males in front of him. 

Honestly Minho didn't know what to say. Absorbing every word became difficult for him. He glanced at the older male beside him who appeared to be in some deep thought. Moonsik was leaning back on his chair, the lines on his forehead visible because of his frown, his finger tapping on his thigh. What is he thinking? The lawyer thought before speaking to the doctor. 

“Doctor Yoon, we'd like to discuss some stuff and contact you before lunch with our decision regarding the surgery.”

The doctor nodded, observing the older male “If there are any financial constraints about it, you can always approach the front desk, we have several schemes that might help you.” With another nod, Moonsik got up and left the office, without replying to the doctor. 

“Bang-nim.” Minho called, following the older male outside. “Bang-nim I need to talk to you.” He added. 

Moonsik grumbled, turning around to see the attorney jog up to him. “What do you want Lee?”

“Sign the surgery papers.”

“And what makes you think I'll listen to you?”

“He's your son for god's sake”

“And what should I do about that?” Moonsik was testing Minho's patience. He has always done that since he couldn't keep him away from Chan. 

Minho scoffed “What kind of a father are you? Why do you hate Chan so much that you wouldn't even approve of the surgery?”

“I don't hate him, Lee, hate is a strong word. Chan disappoints me. He's been nothing but a disappointment for the family name since he decided go become a faggot .”

Minho wanted to punch the elder. He wanted to grab him by his shirt and scream in his face that his son being gay doesn't change anything, at the end he's still a human. “That doesn't answer my question Bang-nim.”

“See Lee, I have an image to keep up in this society, which will be heavily tainted when the word gets out of my son being a queer. I have provided that excuse of a son of mine with food to eat, clothes to wear, a roof to live under and good education from a reputed university, and this is how he pays me back? I don't have money to waste on that disappointment. Instead it would be easier to cry for his death than to defame my name in this society.”

The attorney stood speechless, how can he even think of that? “Providing the basic necessities is not something you demand a payback for!” Minho spoke through gritted teeth. What the fuck was wrong with this male? Everything . A part of Minho wanted to schedule a meeting with the psychiatrist for Moonsik. He really needed help. 

Taking a deep breath, Minho tried to control his anger. “Just sign those damn papers, you won't have to pay a single penny out of your pocket Bang-nim. Sign those papers, I'll be bearing the full cost of his treatment, including the hospital bills. Just–sign them. Please.”

Chapter Text

The Seoul Prosecution Office received several cases on a daily basis, some dealt with major crimes that required in-depth investigations while some just needed the accused to pay the applicable penalties. Every prosecutor who got appointed in the Seoul branch was either a part of the top graduates from the top twenty law schools across the country or had an immaculate record of handling the cases assigned to them. 

Kim Seungmin belonged to the first category. 

It had been a bit over two years since he graduated from Yonsei University, ranking third in his batch and thus securing his seat in the Seoul Prosecution Office. Being a prosecutor, he had powers, several powers but not once had he tried to misuse them in any way. 

His day had started just like any other day on the fifth of February, reaching ten minutes before the time, giving his latest case update to his senior, greeting those who crossed paths with him and denying their offers for breakfast saying “I've already had it.” He was the youngest prosecutor in their team of ten, the eldest being over forty, which somehow made him the center of attention every time they had lunch or dinner together. 

There were times where he got irritated by the way his team treated him, but there was a major plus point. Their help and advice. He was new; new to the city, new in the field of work. Terrified would be an understatement for what he was feeling when he first stepped through the glass doors of the prosecution building. What was he, just twenty four? 

‘Seoul is a big city.’

‘The competition is cut throat, I don't know if your son can survive in that environment Kim-ssi.’

‘I've heard even your partners can sabotage you to push you down.’

Both him and his parents had heard such statements from their neighbors and relatives. But all of his worries were washed away when he started spending time with his team. He literally felt like he must have done something really great in his past life to deserve such seniors. They had advised and guided their youngest team member whenever he found himself stuck in a case. 

“Suicide?” the eldest, Prosecutor Kang confirmed when Seungmin told them about the new case he was assigned that morning. “Be careful in the investigation Seungmin-ah, these suicide cases sometimes become too messy and tangled up. Everyone you interrogate will definitely find another person to push the blame on. Evidence would either be tampered or difficult to find.”

He understood what his senior meant when he was informed by his investigation team that a suit for abetment to suicide for the same victim had already been filed by an attorney named Yang Jeongin. If that was not enough he also had a mail sitting unread in his inbox from the same attorney, ‘Bae & Baek LLC’ clearly mentioned in the email id. 

Bae & Baek LLC didn't fall in the category of top legal firms in the city, no. But they had a reputation in the industry, the very first being their team of attorneys who apart from being qualified were also sincere in their work. Where there always was a misconception that the majority of the attorneys worked only to earn money from the rich, frame innocents for the crimes committed by their clients, the attorneys of Bae & Baek LLC were never a part of that. Every case handled by the attorneys of that firm was strong in every sense. Not a single evidence was left out when their team got into something, and Seungmin still didn't know how they were always so efficient in finding out the truth behind those cases. 

Seungmin knew he'd had to meet the attorney once because if Bae & Baek LLC is involved with the same case he's been appointed with, working together would be a really good place to start. 

✤

10.02.2020

 

The knot in your throat, 

wants you to cry. 

Eyes burning with tears, 

but still dry. 

 

Life's easy, 

just go with the flow. 

When you'll trip and fall, 

you never know. 

 

Living on someone else's conditions,

is not what you dreamed of. 

But do you even remember, 

what you actually dreamed of? 

 

You stand there, 

watching the waves crash by. 

The life you always wanted to live, 

just flashes by. 

 

Your heart feels numb, 

you don't understand why.

This failure of a person, 

just wishes to die.

 

But wait, 

don't give up just yet. 

It's just the rain, 

the sun hasn't set. 

 

The tear that escaped first, 

was tagged as a traitor. 

They didn't know, 

He was trapped by a dictator. 

 

Greeting with a smile, 

I'm fine, thank you. 

Looking in the mirror, 

Is that really you? 

 

The silver shine wishes 

to glide across the blank canvas. 

But the direction of the scars, 

Needed no compass. 

 

Your heart feels numb, 

you don't understand why.

This failure of a person, 

just wishes to die.

 

But wait, 

don't give up just yet. 

It's just the rain, 

the sun hasn't set. 

 

—Chris… 

«I write so I can breathe»

✤

“Prosecutor Kim from Seoul Prosecution Office.” Seungmin extended his ID towards the female nurse at the reception desk. “I'm here for the investigation of the suicide case that was brought in the day before yesterday, patient's name Bang Christopher Chan.”

Nodding the female typed in the patient's name “You can go upstairs to the fifth floor, he's in ICCU number three.”

Seungmin nodded, pocketing his I card and walking to the elevator that went to the odd floors. ICCU, seems like he's still in critical condition, he thought watching the numbers change until five blinked on the screen. 

Unlike some other floors, this floor was solely dedicated for the critical patients ward, which he understood when he was met with low to none noise as compared to the other floor. Finding the room was not difficult, taking into account the limited number of ICCUs. Instead of opening the door, he peeked in through the glass opening on it, taking into the scene inside the room. Yup, definitely won't get the victim's statement. 

“Can I help you?” 

Startled by the new voice, the prosecutor shifted his attention away from the window to the incomer who stood wearing dark gray sweats co-ords. It was his face, specifically the eyes that grabbed his attention, the dark shadows beneath them said like this male hadn't had a good rest for the past few days. 

“Prosecutor Kim Seungmin from the Seoul Prosecution Office.” he showed his id, “I'm here for the investigation regarding Bang-ssi's attempted suicide.” 

“Lee Minho, Channie's boyfriend.” Minho straightened, extending his hand forward. 

That explains the dark circles. Seungmin returned the gesture, taking the other's hand in a firm handshake. “Nice to meet you Lee-ssi. I assume you've been here since the day of the accident.”

“More or less, yes.” Minho nodded, looking around the corridor. “Let's go inside and talk further, I guess his father might be back by now.”

Seungmin nodded in agreement, following him to the door beside the ICCU. Like Minho mentioned, there was another male inside, who by the looks appeared to be in his early fifties, busy talking on his phone. Moonsik's attention shifted to the door on hearing it open, face contouring into a frown as he spoke “I've got a situation here, I'll call later.” 

Minho couldn't help but roll his eyes, knowing that at least one homophobic slur was coming towards him. “What?” he scoffed “Brought another of Chan's queer friends? Or is he yours?”

Seungmin had to blink in shock and do a double take on the older on hearing his words. Taking into account Minho's sigh beside him, this didn't appear like it was the first time these words were spoken. 

“Not thinking before you speak will get you in serious trouble one day Bang-nim.”

So the dislike seems mutual. Seungmin glanced to his side, anticipating an irritated expression on Minho's face but instead was met with a calm expression. If he focused more he could see the slight clench in his jaw, the rigidness in his neck and shoulders and a rhythmic pattern of breathing, which was clearly done in order to control one's anger. He guessed it was time for some introductions. 

“Hello, I'm Prosecutor Kim Seungmin, from Seoul Prosecution Office. I'll be investigating your son's case.” If not for his observant eyes, he would have missed the slight change in the older male's body posture, from relaxed to alert. Yeah, hearing the word prosecutor had that effect on people. 

“Bang Moonsik, Chan's father. Nice to meet you, Prosecutor Kim.”

Seungmin nodded, motioning both the males to have a seat. “I was here to take the victim's statement, but it appears that he's not in a condition to respond. Has he gained consciousness anytime in the past two days?”

“No,” Minho responded, ignoring Moonsik's sharp glare, which Seungmin did take note of. He had an inkling how things might turn out. “Channie has been detected with LAD blockage, so Doctor Yoon has decided to keep him under medically induced comatose until a final decision regarding the bypass has been made.”

“Chan had been in a critical condition since the initial surgery. Last night he had a seizure as well.” Moonsik added, pinching the bridge of his nose between his eyes with a dejected sigh. “I don't know why all this is happening to my son.”

Minho controlled, he really did, but at the end he couldn't help but let out a bitter scoff, grabbing the prosecutor's full attention. “Do you wish to add something?” Seungmin asked, feeling the tension increase between the other two males. 

“The surgery is kept on hold because Bang-nim doesn't want to sign the papers, even after the doctor gave us an ultimatum.”

Oh, Seungmin didn't like what he heard. If the victim dies then things will get more complicated than they are right now. “How much time?” he needed to know. 

“It was a week when he was brought in, but after last night's seizure Doctor Yoon asked us to make the decision by the end of this day, he said no one can predict when his heart might fail.” Minho tiredly raked his hand through his hair, holding them away from his face, taking in a deep breath. 

Seungmin read the body language of both the males, noticing a huge difference between them. Where one looked tense, stressed the other was calmly sitting on his chair. He knew who was going to be difficult during the interrogation. “Why don't you want to sign the consent?” This question was directed to the eldest. 

Moonsik rubbed his hand on his face. “There are complications in the surgery, I might…I might lose my son forever.” 

You've already lost him years ago. Minho wanted to say but opted for “You'd definitely lose him if he doesn't get the blockage removed.” This was his chance. The way Moonsik's behavior changed since the prosecutor had entered, the attorney knew he had to strike while the iron was hot. “At least getting the surgery will increase the chances of your son's survival.” Oh, how he loved to rile the old man up until he lost his composure. 

“Lee-ssi is right here, the way you want to choose will bring you to a dead end. The surgery appears to be the best option.” This might be the first time in his career Minho thought that a prosecutor had spoken in his support. 

“And I've already suggested that I'd bear the entire cost of treatment.” Minho added, noticing the slight tick in the order's jaw. Nope, he'd never lose his cool in front of the prosecutor. Never. 

“I'll sign.” Moonsik spoke, pushing down his anger towards Minho. He now hated the attorney even more than before. He found a chance and he took it.

“It's settled then.” Seungmin spoke, breaking Moonsik's chain of thoughts. “I'd like to be kept updated with the victim's condition. Here's my card.” he removed two visiting cards, giving both one each before standing up. He didn't exactly get what he was here for but whatever he got was a start, pushing him in a certain direction. “Since you both are related to the victim, you'd be called in for interrogation. I hope you will coordinate.” with a last bow, he opened the door and walked out, to the elevators. 

There was something Seungmin wanted to do right now and he did that. Removing his phone he quickly unlocked it, going straight to his mail, clicking on the message with Bae & Baek LLC. It seemed like he'd be having a packed afternoon. 

Chapter Text

28.03.2020

What is wrong with me, I don't get it. 

Why do I suddenly get detached from reality? 

It's like I'm floating away, I don't want to move, don't want to talk, don't want anyone near me. But at the same time I wish I had someone to hold me, to whisper soothing words whenever I feel this way. 

“I overreact sometimes. 

Then I shut down, push everyone away. 

Why?

I still don't know the answer.”

Wow that became a quatrain. Let me put that between quotes. 

You know there's a part of my brain that says he doesn't feel the same for me anymore. But that isn't true, he just doesn't know how to express his emotions properly. Yes it hurts sometimes but it's life, not everything will be a bed of flowers. 

I was slipping for a few days, idk why I thought it was a good idea to tell him. Maybe I wanted someone to comfort me, wanted to hear some words that would soothe my soul. But instead I ended up feeling like an idiot. Lol. 

I texted him, said that I was not feeling good, I needed help. He replied after around an hour asking what's happening. I told everything in my head, everything, no single thought left out and he replied with just a “Ohh”. What am I supposed to answer to that? So I changed the topic and he didn't even ask about it once. 

I shouldn't have said what was in my head, not everyone wants to hear that. 

Yeah I'll keep it inside. 

I'll write it instead. 

—Chris… 

« I write so I can breathe »

✤

Room number 807: 

Prosecutor Kim Seungmin. 

Prosecutor Song Goeun

Assistant Min Jaehyuk

Investigator Park Daeho

Felix confirmed the name and room number, cross checking it with the message he received earlier that morning. Ever since he had filed the complaint against his own uncle he had been on edge. He started visiting the church every morning, praying for Chan's quick recovery and also that Moonsik doesn't get suspicious that he had reported him to the authorities. 

Felix had been in touch with Jeongin ever since he went to meet Minho at Bae & Baek's office building. Jeongin had informed him about his meeting with the prosecutor assigned the previous day. He had also alerted Felix that the possibilities of him being among the first ones to be interrogated were really high because the prosecutor would want to himself cross verify his complaint. He seemed like a no nonsense type of person, who wouldn't get swayed by any type of interruptions and Felix liked that. Hence when he received the call from the prosecution office in between his lectures, he knew it had finally started. 

Knocking once, he turned the doorknob, taking a nervous step inside the room. Noticing the three sets of eyes focused on him, he politely bowed, introducing himself  “Good afternoon, I'm Lee Felix Yongbok. I was called in for questioning by Prosecutor Kim.”

“That would be me, Prosecutor Kim Seungmin.” Felix's attention snapped to the male who stood up behind the main desk placed in front of the window. “Please, come in.” Seungmin gestured towards the vacant chair on the other side of his desk. 

Sitting on the chair, Felix knew one thing for sure, he would never want to be in this kind of situation again, especially in a prosecutor's office, getting questioned. Nervous? No. He was tipping around a thin thread between running away or having a meltdown right here in this office. Jeongin's words rang in his head. “You are not doing anything wrong here. You might be late, yes, but it's better to be late than be sorry. Tell the truth, everything. You have nothing to be scared of.”

I am doing the right thing! He fisted his hand on his lap, giving himself a mental boost. Yes, he was ready. 

“Lee Felix-ssi. Do you have any preferred name to be addressed by?” 

“No.” he shook his head, “I'm okay with both.”

Seungmin nodded, flipping the pages of his binder once again, before setting them back on his desk. Next he switched on the small voice recorder and placed it in between them on the desk. “So I guess we can start here. You are Chan-ssi's cousin right?” Felix nodded. “How long have you been living with the Bang family?”

“Since the start of my high school. Approximately seven to eight years.”

“Eight years. You decided to report the abuse now, especially when you've given a statement that it had been going on for years. Is there a specific reason why you didn't report it the first time you saw it happening?”

Felix gulped, he knew this question would definitely be asked, Jeongin had alerted him about this. Truth, he had to say the truth here. What if he gets to know about this? A shiver ran down his spine on just the thought. But then his cousin's smiling face came to his mind. No, truth. I'm doing the right thing. “I was scared.” Felix admitted. 

“Scared of what? Are you aware that turning a blind eye to abuse is equivalent to being the offender?”

Felix nodded, blinking away the moistness in his eyes. “I was scared that samchon would do something else—something big, more harmful if he gets just a gist of someone going behind his back—going against his orders, defying his rules.”

Seungmin observed the freckled male's expression as he spoke, eyes wide, shoulders hunched. Still scared. He concluded. “Are there any instances where he clearly specified or like your statement here says threatened the consequences of not following his words?”

“Several.” Felix's thoughts trailed back to the time when he for the very first time had seen the mask of his uncle slip. That uncle who had been nothing but the sweetest and the most loving man he knew after his father, that uncle who was fun loving, always made him laugh, bought him his favorite things every time he visited. Until that day he didn't know that everything Moonsik had been doing since his childhood was nothing but a fake facade he used to gain control over others. “He used to have those episodes where he went on some kind of psychotic spree. He would snap at the smallest of things. Once during dinner the food was not boiling hot, it was fresh and hot but not the boiling type of hot like he wanted. He…he flipped the entire pan on the table in anger…didn't eat at home for the next two weeks…and then acted like nothing had happened.”

Psychotic spree. Seungmin thought. This was a common behavioral pattern among the people who had been reported for domestic violence or any other type of abuse. They needed to feel the power over the people around them, get their egos stroked. Every time something happened that threatened their control over things, in this case people, they'd definitely go into this kind of violent behavior. 

Felix couldn't decipher the expression on the prosecutor's face, that man didn't have any expression. Well Felix was not the best at reading expressions either. He was telling the truth, then why did it feel so heavy on his chest, why did he feel like he'd become Moonsik's target the moment he gets to know about what he did? His hand reached for the bottled water placed in front of him, courtesy of Seungmin, mumbling a soft thanks and drinking a few sips, the cold water calming his anxious nerves to a certain extent. 

“Are you okay to move forward?” Seungmin asked, noticing how the freckled male took in a deep breath before nodding. Everything he had witnessed has disturbed him deeply. He made eye contact with Investigator Park, who had been listening to the entire conversation with concentration, taking notes of the points that were important. A curt nod from the male told Seungmin that the statements recorded and what Felix spoke were in alignment with each other. “What happened when Chan-ssi came out to his family?”

“He didn't actually come out, hyung had never planned to…it was accidental. That day…it was scary… he was scary …”

✤

22.04.2020

Trapped

Trapped in this cage

Don't know how to escape

 

Tears

Don't come to me anymore

Like everyone, they left me alone

 

Happiness

Is now a long lost dream

One that I'll never achieve

 

Life

It's becoming a burden these days

Just give up that voice says

 

Why can everyone around me smile without any worries? 

 

Why am I the only one stuck? 

 

I've been looking for answers, but why can't I find any? 

 

Taking another breath I'll act like everything is perfect. 

 

Just like always. 

—Chris… 

« I write so I can breathe »

✤

“Is that you Yongbok?” Bora's voice echoed through the living room as she walked in on hearing the door open and close. “Where were you?”

Felix just shrugged, opting not to answer her question and walked past her to his room. It was past six in the evening, he knew he was over an hour late than his usual time but he couldn't care less. He was tired, the interrogation went on for over three hours, thinking, reminiscing every memory had drained his energy. It wasn't as if he had been talking to both of them since Chan had been in the hospital. 

“Are you not going to answer me?” He heard Bora's footsteps following behind him. “Lee Yongbok I'm speaking to you!”

Again Felix didn't answer, placing his bag on the desk and arranging the books he knew he'd need. 

“I don't understand what is wrong with everyone in this house!” she exclaimed, watching her nephew shuffle around his room, ignoring her. “You've suddenly started coming home late, your uncle is never home half of the time, your brother went and jumped off that building! Do I even exist here? If he had some problem he could have spoken to us like an adult. He always acted secretive, stopped talking to us! We are his parents! I'm his mother, I gave birth to him, carried him for nine months and this is what I get in return? Him going and trying to kill himself! Was one stain on the family name not enough that he had to go and stain it again?”

Felix couldn't help but chuckle, “You really are a different type of breed. Are you human? Because there is not a single ounce of humanity in you!” He slammed his book on the wooden desk. 

“What the hell are you speaking? I've literally raised you since you're living here! I've fed you, gave you a roof and this is what I get? If it wasn't for me your uncle would have never taken you in! I do so much for this household but what do I get, disrespect.”

“This is the only thing you are good at, aren't you? Playing the blame game, victimizing yourself, crying and making others pity you. Why don't you audition for a role in one of the dramas? I'm telling you, you'd be a really good antagonist.” Felix scowled, angrily grabbing his wallet and mobile. 

“Lee Yongbok!” Bora shouted, holding his arm, stopping him from walking away. “You do not get to speak to me like that! Wait till Moonsik comes back, let me call him—” she stopped talking on hearing the doorbell go off. “He might be here. Just you wait!” poking a threatening finger in his chest, the middle aged woman stormed off to the front door, opening it in anticipation of her husband. “Who are you?” The snappy edge didn't leave her voice as she saw an unfamiliar man standing at her door. 

“Uh…” the male blinked, opening and closing his mouth a few times, thumbs twiddling in front of him. “I'm Chan's friend. Is he here?” 

Felix entered the hallway connecting their front door, standing at a distance watching the male. Short in height, he wore a light blue shirt, stretched snugly over his built broad shoulders and chest, the sleeves folded up to his forearms, bulging at his biceps, tucked into dark navy dress slacks. His eyes were wide in anticipation behind the metal rimmed glasses, face showing his nervousness clearly. 

“He's not here.” she waved her hand dismissively “Why are you here? Who gave you the address?”

“I…I heard about what happened…” he trailed off before straightening “I'm Seo Changbin by the way. Me and Chan were friends in highschool and the first year of University, until he changed universities and we lost contact. I guess you might be Chan's mother.” he politely bowed, making Felix internally scoff. 

“He's not here. You can leave.” Bora went ahead to shut the door. 

“Can you please at least tell me which hospital he is in?” Changbin pleaded, trying to stop the door. 

“Go away I said, can't you understand it? You lost contact, that means my son didn't want to keep contact with you. Go away! ”

“Ma'am just listen to me once–”

Felix decided this was the time he had to step up. “I'm going to the hospital right now, you can accompany me.” Both Changbin and Bora turned their attention to him. “I'm Felix, Chan's brother.” 

“You are not going anywhere!” Bora hissed. 

“I'm not asking you. I'm informing .” Felix cooly replied, wearing his shoes. 

“You are a kid, behave like one!” She tried to pull him back but failed when the younger pulled his hand away from her. 

“I'm bloody twenty two, legally an adult who has the right to make his own decisions! And I've decided that I've had enough of your shits ! I want to see my brother and I will. Stop me if you can!” saying that Felix walked out of the apartment, motioning a stunned Changbin to follow him, ignoring Bora's protests.

He'll deal with the repercussions later. 

Chapter Text

30.06.2020

I'm writing this in the morning. 

Last night me and Lix were talking, and our conversation just went on from topic to topic. Then he started talking about mental health, depression and stuff related to it. And boy I had so much to say. 

During the discussion one thing got me thinking. Active and Passive Suicide Ideation. During the entire conversation I was thankful that the room was dark or else Felix could have caught on that something is wrong with me just by seeing my face. 

I researched it on the internet but the first thing that popped up on pressing enter was “Help is available, speak to someone today.” along with a series of numbers and websites. I don't know why but I kind of don't trust those numbers. Like is it just for the show, because they get paid or those people on the other side actually want to help? Why does it matter to them if I want to live or die? 

I'm not mentally well and I know it. I have phases where I just feel like disappearing, like just vanishing out of existence but it's not easy. Sometimes when I get thoughts I try to divert my mind, but then there are times that I feel like giving into them. 

You can never understand a suicidal person's way of thinking. Like this website said the following:

Passive Suicide Ideation is when you have thoughts of suicide or self harm but no plan to carry it out.

Active Suicide Ideation is when you have thoughts of suicide or self harm, and have developed a plan to carry it out.

My question is where do I fall? 

I have thoughts, but I have no plan to carry them out. I've stopped hurting myself years ago, so the question of self harm doesn't count. But I also have the means to carry it out. 

Like come on, there's this high rise, I guess it's a five minute wake from ours, that doesn't lock its terrace, I've snooped inside several times now. It's actually peaceful up there on the fourteenth floor. 

Going back to my question. Where do I fall? Am I a threat to myself? 

People who don't die even after them trying it, have a kind of regret that they tried to commit suicide. I've read several blogs of people who survived their suicide attempt and they were regretting their decision to even think about it. 

If there comes a time what would I regret? Trying it or failing at it? 

Who am I? Active or passive? 

—Chris… 

« I write so I can breathe »

✤

“Yongbok,” Minho crossed the distance between him and the younger male with long strides, but before he could speak further another voice spoke behind him. 

“Lee Felix Yongbok!” Moonsik spoke through gritted teeth. “What are you doing here?”

Minho was about to enter the room when he overheard the older man speaking to someone on his phone. “What do you mean Felix left for the hospital? Were you sleeping when he left? Can you bloody—” Tuning out the further conversation the attorney decided to wait for the freckled male in the lobby downstairs, before Moonsik could catch hold of him. Guess he was not the only one waiting. 

“I'm here to see hyung.” Felix replied, jaw set in determination. Only he was aware about the cold fear running through his veins when Moonsik took hold of his bicep and pulled him outside the hospital building. 

Minho followed the two, feeling worried for the younger who he didn't know why had decided to rebel against his uncle. Then again Chan was the same, he got a weird sense of satisfaction every time he knowingly irked his father. 

“Who allowed you to come here?” 

This was the second time the attorney was witnessing Moonsik trying to hold back. Minho had seen the middle aged man control his anger in front of the prosecutor that same morning especially when he agreed to consent to the surgery. Noticing the way his fist was clenched by his side Minho confirmed his suspicion. Is he still trying to maintain his facade of a good uncle? 

“I don't need anyone's permission to see my brother.” He saw Moonsik's left eye twitch in annoyance. Felix was aware of the different ways to get under his uncle's skin and he had decided to use all of them today. 

“Yes you don't. But didn't I say that only it'll be only me who will come here?”

Minho had to re-verify whether the man in front of him actually was Bang Moonsik, the same male who left no stone unturned to annoy him. 

Felix frowned, before bursting out in laughter, “You just said that I don't need anyone's permission to meet hyung, but your very next words contradicted your own words samchon.”

“Go back home Yongbok.” Moonsik ordered, leaving no room for discussion. “Bora is worried for you,” he later added. 

“Oh don't worry about her!” Felix waved his hand. His insides were twisting, dreading the impact of his actions. He had decided on his way back home from the prosecution office to go against everything Moonsik said or asked him to do. There was no turning back now. “The only thing she worries about is how she looks in the society and how much money or jewelry you give her. Nothing else matters to that woman.”

That made the elder's jaw tick and fist clench by his side, “That is not the way you talk about your elders!” 

“It is when the elders don't know how to behave like one.”

Moonsik grabbed Felix by his arm, fingers wrapped in a bruising grip. “Watch your tongue kid.”

The realization that this could be a bad idea struck Felix when his uncle's fingers dug in his upper arm. I'm doing this for hyung. For Channie hyung. He chanted in his head, making sure his mask of indifference doesn't crack in front of him. “What happened, samchon?” Felix took a step forward, ignoring the way his heart hammered against his ribcage. “Are you going to do the same thing you've been doing to hyung when he went against you?”

Hearing Felix's words Minho himself took a cautious step towards the uncle-nephew duo, ready to jump in if Moonsik tried to act out. The attorney still couldn't understand why Felix was provoking him. 

“Well, look, you made me forget what I was actually here for.” The freckled male pulled his hand away from the orders grasp, patting his jacket, before pushing his hand inside it's pocket and removed an envelope. “Here, this came in today.” he waved the envelope in front of Moonsik's face, making Minho control his snort at the elder's expression. 

Moonsik snatched the letter away with an annoyed expression which turned into a frown on reading the name on the letterhead. 

“It's a summon from the prosecution.” Felix spoke again, making Moonsik glare at him. “What?” the freckled male pouted, “It's for your wife by the way. I've already read it, just to save your time. Well the interrogation is tomorrow morning, so you need to be quick, call lawyer Park, quick, prepare your script.” he clicked his fingers. “Go go, train her on what to say, what not to say!”

If looks could kill, Felix would have been bleeding to death by now. He himself didn't know where he got the courage to say and act the way he was doing right now, that too in front of the monster himself. Anything for hyung, he reminded himself. What he was doing was equal to putting his hand inside a hungry lion's mouth, Felix was aware of it. But they couldn't reach their goal until Moonsik was playing safe. He wanted his uncle to make a miscalculated decision, he wanted him to do something on impulse. 

“I'll deal with you later Lee Yongbok. This is my first and last warning to you.”

“Yeah yeah, We'll see that when later comes. Go fast before your wife decides to blow up all your schemes! Toodles~”

Even if Moonsik wanted to respond to Felix's words in his way, he decided against it. He had important things to deal with right now. The older was under the impression that he being Chan's father, he would be the one to be interrogated before anyone else. Thus he had planned accordingly. Why was Bora summoned before him? 

Felix being called for interrogation was not known to anyone, except for Jeongin who had been in touch with both him and Seungmin. The freckled male had his doubts about the attorney relaying this information to his senior, but he didn't mind it. He trusted Minho more than the people who he had been living with for the past seven to eight years. . 

“What are you gonna do about that?” Felix turned to Minho who now was beside him. 

He shrugged, letting out a deep exhale. “He can't lay a finger on me. I'm not his son, just a nephew.”

✤

25.08.2020

The morning breeze was brushing past his face, drying the tears that hadn't stopped since last night. He didn't know where to go the moment he stepped out of the threshold, Minho wasn't in the city, he couldn't call anyone. Halfway through his walk to the subway station, he stopped, right in the middle of the sidewalk. Someone cursed behind him, some brushed past him sending him looks, but he couldn't feel anything. There was just one voice ringing in his head, his mother's. 

“I haven't asked anything from you but today I'm pleading you, do me a favor and just go somewhere and kill yourself. Don't come back home. I've had enough now. Kill yourself, it'll be easier for everyone.”

I'm pleading you

Do me a favor

Don't come back home

Just kill yourself

It'll be easier

Kill yourself

I'll kill myself, he decided. 

Abruptly turning around, he started his walk back to where he came from. To his safe space. 

The security gave him a smile in greeting, the poor man still believed that he came here to visit his friends. He smiled back, no trace of tears on his face and went to the elevator, pressing the eleventh floor. Well he didn't technically lie to the guard, someone he knew does live in this high-rise, it's just that they lived in the other wing. 

Taking stairs from the eleventh floor, he finally reached his destination. 

He didn't know if it was his luck or irresponsibility of the building's management but this terrace was always open. They had found it one day while hanging out. Since then he used to sneak in here whenever things became suffocating. 

Warm August breeze greeted him as he stepped outside, heading straight to his corner, the water tank that was against the boundary wall. He liked it there, no one bothered him here. This was his place. 

Blowing away the dust on the floor, he finally settled down, watching the view in front of him. The view is so beautiful from here. He shook his head, snapping himself out of his thoughts. He was not here to bask in nature or the view. He was here to find his eternal peace. But before that he had something important to do. 

That's how he found himself with his brown journal in his lap, writing down every single thing that happened last night. From the fight with his father, to the pleads of his mother. He wrote what he was told, word by word. He didn't realize when his silent tears had become loud sobs, with his breath hitching with every sob. His chest felt heavy, his heart was in physical pain, breathing became hard for him. 

Now a pen was tucked in between his journal, the book on his bag, for anyone to read. The wind felt stronger now that he was standing facing the non existent boundary wall. Too high, was his first thought when he peeked down to see the height.

He was scared of heights. 

Just one step forward, he reminded himself, it'll be all over, he consoled himself, it'll be easier for everyone, his mother's words echoed again. “It's okay.” Just one step more, just one, it'll be okay Chris, you'll find peace, it'll be okay, everyone will be hap—”

A phone rang, his mobile phone, making him turn to see the device beside his bag on the floor. He watched the phone ring all the seven rings before disconnecting. He sighed, ignoring it and going back to his previous position when the rings started again. Something in his heart convinced him to step away and take that call. 

One last call. 

The name on the screen felt like a bucket of ice cold water was upturned on him. 

Lee Minho. 

He swiped the green icon, answering the call and placed the speaker on his ears, hands shaking. “Good morning my love! You won't believe this trip is better than I expected. I even got to sit through a court session. It was like wow! One day I'll be standing there.” His boyfriend's cheerful voice spoke on the other end, making his heart fill with guilt of what he was about to do. “Next time we'll come here together. We can sit through another session, I made some acquaintances inside, so with their help I could pull some strings.”

Taking in a quivered breath, he hummed prompting the other to continue. He didn't trust his voice right now, if he spoke he might end up letting out everything and then Minho would leave this study trip to come back to him, giving up on his credits. He was aware about the importance of those extra credits to a law student. 

“Baby? Are you there?” Minho's voice echoed through the speaker, he sounded concerned. 

“Yes.” curse his voice to break when that was the last thing he needed. 

“Channie, what happened, love? Why do you sound like you are crying?” 

Minho's voice felt like the warm hug he needed at that moment to ground himself. Realization of what he was about to do dawned upon him, the thought of his boyfriend not crossing his mind even once was scary. He had promised to call or text Minho whenever he felt these thoughts or voices overpowering him. But he didn't, it didn't cross his mind. He had let them cloud his senses, he had allowed them to take control of his thoughts. 

“Please say something Channie, you're scaring me.” 

“Min,” he choked out, sniffing. 

“Yes love.” there was shuffling on the other side, he heard Minho's voice informing someone that he'd join the group in a few, he had something urgent to do right now. 

“Min…”

“I'm here baby, I'm here.”

“Promise…you won't leave your trip…to come here.”

“What's happening Channie?”

“Please promise me… please Min.”

“I promise love, I promise. Please tell me what happened.”

Minho's voice was a soothing presence to his heart, which made him break down in a broken mess of apologies and tears. “Minho!” he cried, “I'm sorry, I'm sorry Minho, I'm so sorry!” the burden of guilt became heavier on his chest. How could he, he had promised, there was someone who'd be affected by this decision. How could he even think about this? Why did he come here? “I'm sorry Min…I'm sorry…I was about to break our promise. I'm so sorry!”

He heard Minho's breath hitch on the other end as he understood the underlying message his boyfriend conveyed. “But you didn't– you didn't do it, right love? You didn't hurt yourself right?”

He shook his head, eyes locked at the edge of the terrace. God how could he even think of doing that? “I was about to…” he confessed, “If you hadn't called…” he couldn't complete that statement. 

The line went silent on the other end, Minho didn't need his boyfriend to complete his words, he never wanted to even think about what could have happened if he hadn't called. “Channie, baby where are you right now?”  

“The high rise in my locality…” he informed, looking around the empty terrace before carefully adding “On the water tank… the terrace.”

He heard Minho curse under his breath, “Okay, love, could you please get off the tank. Please stay away from the boundary. I'm here okay, just focus on my voice love, get off there. Please.”

There was desperation in his boyfriend's voice, a kind of desperation that only ends in tears.He nodded, he could do this. Focusing on Minho's voice, he gathered his stuff, using the stairs to get off the tank, away from the edge. “I got down.”

“Okay, you did good love, you did good. I'm so proud of you.” he was aware the day Minho returned, he wouldn't leave his side, not for a single minute and he felt bad for being such a burden. “No you are not a burden Channie, never to me.” 

Seems like he spoke ot out loud. “I'm sorry.”

“Shh, it's okay. Now could you please go downstairs. Sungie and Hyun would be reaching there in a few.”

That caught his attention, “There was no need to bother them, I could go to the uni by myself.”

“They were just skipping lectures anyway. And you, my love, are not going to the university now.”

“But–”

“Yes you've got a great butt. Now no more buts.”

He couldn't help the small smile that broke on his lips on hearing Minho's attempt to lighten the mood. He loved him. “It's an impromptu relaxation trip planned by us, but the locations and activities are totally up to those two, so don't hate me if they do something embarrassing. Where are you now?”

“Reaching the gate,” he replied, heart already feeling a bit lighter. “Hey Min,”

“Hey Channie.”

“Thank you.”

“I love you too.”

✤

Present… 

“Only five minutes.”

“Only five minutes.” Minho repeated, nodding with a thumbs up, a grateful smile behind the surgical mask as nurse Hong closed the door, leaving the attorney behind surrounded by the regular beeps coming from the medical equipments in the ICCU.

Persuasion, a lot of persuasion, that's what it took for Minho to finally get these five minutes to see his love. Wearing sanitized hospital scrubs, surgical mask and cap, along with latex gloves he stood just a couple of feets away from his boyfriend. 

“Hey Channie.” Minho whispered, afraid that if he spoke any louder this small bubble would burst. His eye traced his lover's face, physically restraining himself from leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to the male's forehead. He missed him so much. “You're strong baby, you're a fighter and I'm so proud of you. Just hold on, don't stop fighting okay? It's your surgery tomorrow, and I know you will return back from it all healthy. I trust you.” 

His fingers itched to touch his lover's face once, instead he settled for his hand, gloved fingers carefully entangling with the cold ones, one of the symptoms of low blood pressure. “Felix stood up against your dad today. He had the interrogation this afternoon and when he returned he snapped at both your parents. I'm proud of that kid. It seems like he grew up so much in just two days.”

Minho sighed, blinking away the moisture in his eyes. Why did bad things happen only to the kind hearted? His Channie had never once intentionally hurt anyone, then why him? “Remember Changbin? Seo Changbin? You both used to be the best of buddies since high school, yeah, he's here. Apparently he lived in that same high rise, did you know? He came here with Felix, they both are downstairs right now as it is way past visiting hours.”

He observed Chan's peacefully sleeping face and imagined him giving his cheeky look saying something like “If the visiting hours are over then how are you here?” A wet chuckle left his lips “Don't give me that look, no one can resist Lee Minho's charms my love.” 

There was only so much the attorney could pretend to be okay. “I miss you love.” Minho bit his lip behind the mask, to stop the quivering of his lips. “I–” he choked “I miss you so much Chris. Please...please come back to me...to us. Life is incomplete...empty without you. I can't live without you my love, I can't. I wish...I just wish I could take away all the pain in your life and give you all my happiness and love. Please baby, don't stop fighting, I know you are strong, you'll come back to me. You will, right?”

A small knock on the door indicated to him that his five minutes were over. It was too short, he needed some more time with Chan. “Looks like I have to leave now. But I promise that I'll be there when you wake up after the surgery. I love you Chris, I love you so much. I'll be waiting for you. I love you.”

Chapter Text

29.01.2021

DESTINATION UNKNOWN

The road is dark

On this moonless night

He's lost in his way

No path to find

 

Destination unknown

Roads intertwined

'At Least it's not a desert'

He sighs with a smile

 

The path uneven

Makes him stumble and fall

In front lays a dark abyss

With no life at all

 

Why am I here? 

What am I doing? 

The destination unknown

So why am I still moving? 

 

The voices he hears

Are talking and laughing

At a distance in the car

They are enjoying

 

Those familiar voices

Take him to their past

He stands and watches

As the car drives past

 

Could have asked for help

The voice in his head says

They wouldn't have stopped

In the middle of their success

 

Why am I here? 

What am I doing? 

The destination unknown

So why am I still moving? 

 

He lost his smile

He lost his light

Every step forward

Just made him cry

 

'Few minutes

Just few minutes

I want to rest now

Just few minutes'

 

The Moon's resting

In his soul a hollow ache

The ocean is dark

Can the moon feel his pain? 

 

Why am I here? 

What am I doing? 

The destination unknown

So why am I still moving? 

 

Something above changed

A small small light

Warmth bloomed inside

His heart felt light

 

Others gradually followed

Sky no longer dark

The darkness faded away

Abyss lit up by stars

 

A hand pulled him up

'Come on' it spoke

Walking again he realized

His heart finally spoke

 

Why am I here? 

What am I doing? 

The destination unknown

Hence I am moving

—Chris… 

« I write so I can breathe »

✤

“Ahn-ssi, Prosecutor Kim Seungmin.” Seungmin greeted the female, “Please have a seat.” 

The older woman nodded, pulling out the chair opposite him to sit. Her eyes scanned the room she was called in, the interrogation room. Unlike Felix Chan's mother, Ahn Bora was escorted to the interrogation room at the prosecutor’s office for questioning. 

Seungmin watched her look around the room, her body stiff with tension and every single action screaming out her restlessness. “If you're okay with it, we'll start the interrogation now.” 

Bora nodded immediately, her sweaty palms tightly clutching her handbag that she had placed on her lap. “We can.” she paused, swallowing. “Can I get some water?

Seungmin nodded to his partner, investigator Park Daeho who placed a sealed bottle of water in front of the woman. He waited until she had finally settled to ask his first question. “Ahn-ssi, can you recall what happened on the day of the incident, since the beginning?”

Bora nodded, “Chan had an interview that day, so he left the house early in the morning… uh… somewhere around eight thirty or nine, before his father.”

Seungmin hummed, twirling a pen between his fingers, “I feel you didn't get my question Ahn-ssi. What I meant to ask is, could you describe the environment at home since that morning? Something that you noticed that was different in Chan-ssi's behavior which would raise suspicion?”

“No, nothing. It was a normal morning for everyone, Yongbok left for university at seven thirty, Chan left for the interview by eight thirty, around nine forty five Moonsik left for work and then it was just me at home.” Bora answered, mentally recalling the answers they had discussed the previous night. 

The moment Felix had slammed the door shut, she knew they had lost all the control they had on their nephew all because of their son's actions. Moonsik had returned home seething with anger, throwing the envelope in front of her, speaking angrily, “Aren't you capable of reading basic Korean as well?” That was when she knew she was the first one to be interrogated. Then Moonsik had called his friend Lawyer Park Namsuk to get their stories straight and explain what answers were to be given. 

She was doing everything just the way they had discussed the previous night. 

Seungmin sighed when she again dodged the question by replying to it in a general context. Guess he had to move to the next question. “As per the hospital staff, both you and Bang-ssi were unreachable on the day of the incident. Why?”

“We were not in Seoul at that time. We had to attend a function at Moonsik's workplace, thus the network was weak.”

Seungmin leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs. There it was, the slight slip-up that he was waiting for. “Ahn-ssi, just in your previous answer you said that everyone was out by ten and you were alone at home. Now you're saying that you were with Bang-ssi at some workplace function. Are you sure you're not mixing up two different scenarios?”

Bora felt her palms sweat, as she reached out for the bottle of water placed in front of her. With every sip she felt her throat closing up just by the mere thought of her husband’s anger if she messed up this interrogation. “No,” she spoke, refocusing on the current situation, “Moonsik…he left in the morning, yes. Then later at eleven I left to join him there.”

“So you might have crossed paths with your son on your way. Because the incident happened between eleven to eleven thirty.”

“I– No, I didn't.” She replied immediately, “I called a taxi directly to our building.”

Seungmin nodded, agreeing. “If you called a taxi then it makes sense that you didn't cross paths.” He glanced at the interrogation report that his partner was preparing beside him. “Where was this function happening?”

“Incheon.” Bora replied, stating the location of Moonsik's workplace. 

“It might have taken somewhere around forty to forty five minutes, right?” Bora nodded, making the young prosecutor continue. “As per the records we received from the emergency services that reached the location, they stated that the call about the suicide was received at sharp eleven twenty-one and they reached the location by eleven twenty-seven.”

Bora twisted her fingers in her lap. This was not something they had discussed, whatever she answered will determine the fate of her husband and even her. 

“So I guess you would have received the first call, which was at eleven thirty-eight, and you still were in the taxi.”

She remembered her phone ringing, she clearly remembered standing in front of it letting it ring until the caller disconnected the call themselves. The caller id said ‘Lifeshades hospital’ . Moonsik had strictly warned not to take any call from the hospital until he reached home. 

“I left my phone at home.” That was the first reply she could come up with. “I was already running late… so in a hurry I forgot about my phone.”

Seungmin observed her expression. He didn't have to think much because nervousness and fear was clearly written on her face. “Seems valid.” he hummed, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his desk “Ahn-ssi are you aware that your son had attempted suicide before this, in the year two thousand and twenty?”

This was news for the older female. Bora looked at the young prosecutor, eyebrows furrowed in confusion “He did?” How come she never got an air of it? “Why didn't he tell us anything about it? Why didn't he tell me? I'm his mother.”

Seungmin wanted to laugh. No, he wanted to snap. He couldn't decide exactly what he wanted to do, after hearing the female's reply. Was giving birth to a human enough to be called a mother? He would definitely talk about this to his own mother when he goes back home. 

“Well, I thought you might be aware of this.” he said, anticipating a reaction when she would hear his next words. “After all it was you who told your son to kill himself.”

The silence in the interrogation room that followed his revelation was deafening. Bora's eyes were wide open in shock, she opened and closed her mouth several times, trying to frame something coherent, but her voice betrayed her every time. “I…I never…I've never!” she shook her head, denying the words Seungmin just spoke. 

“Are you trying to say that you have never said these words,” He took the paper in front of him, reading out the lines “I haven't asked anything from you but today I'm pleading you, do me a favor and just go somewhere and kill yourself. Don't come back home. I've had enough now. Kill yourself, it'll be easier for everyone.” He watched the color drain from the middle aged woman's face. “Do these words sound familiar, Ahn-ssi?”

Bora sat there shell shocked. She agreed she had said these kinds of statements several times to her son, but how did the prosecutor know that? Bora couldn't stop the stuttered “Ho–how?”

“How do I know about something that happened around three years ago?” he asked, motioning his partner to hand him the diary from the evidence that they had collected so far. He placed the leather journal on the desk between them, “Does this diary look familiar?”

✤

03.03.2021

Today I snapped at Felix. 

He recently started his internship at an accounting firm and majority of the employees are nearing their thirties and those typical females who think they still are in their sweet sixteen. He's been working there after his uni lectures so it's implied that he'll have lunch there. 

He was telling me about his day when he told me that they had ordered something and his manager treated him. He then went on saying how he only ate half of it. 

I was like why? 

He said that the older females were continuously nagging about how heavy that dish looks, that they wouldn't be able to finish it at all. Talking about calories and stuff. That's the reason he ate only half, half stomach. 

Like why the fuck do you have to listen to the others, they don't know about you. Then why do you have to feel bad about doing something you like or eating something you like? 

I don't understand these types of people who think that everyone should listen to their thoughtless advice. Honestly get a life man. Stop nagging new kids about something that they should not worry about. 

For fucks sake Lix is already thin like a leaf, why the hell are the making him insecure about his body. 

Like fuck!! 

— Chris… 

« I write so I can breathe »

Chapter Text

24.6.2021

Felix is so stupid! 

I agree he always shares everything with his parents but there are certain things that we never know how they'll react. Or worse if they say it to my parents. 

What happened is that we were on a video call with gomo this evening. She had sent snacks and gifts from Australia so we were talking about that and other stuff like Lixie’s studies. Then she asked us to take care of ourselves, to eat on time and you know what all these elders say. 

Then suddenly the conversation became about me. She said that she could see I was not taking care of myself and asked Felix to keep an eye out for me, that he should also take care of his older brother. 

And Felix, Lee Felix Yongbok didn't know where to stop. He fucking said “I don't need to, hyung has someone who takes care of him and fusses over him all the time.”

I was kicking him to stop but that idiot said “Hyung why are you kicking me?” Like seriously??? 

Now she'll tell mom, and then she'll tell this to dad and I'm gone once again. Uhhh why is my life like this?? 

—Chris… 

« I write so I can breathe »

✤

“You're married?” 

Changbin looked up from his phone, smiling at Minho who had joined him in the cafeteria. He then shifted his attention to his left hand's fourth finger, thumbing the white gold band there. “Engaged actually. It's just been a week.”

“That's great, congratulations!” Minho congratulated, genuinely happy on hearing the news. Being in love was a beautiful feeling and getting the chance to spend your entire life with the person you love was like living a dream. “She must be lucky to have you as her fiance.”

“He.” The teacher corrected with a soft smile, adding on noticing the confusion on the attorney’s face. “My boyfriend planned this proposal on our trip to Akita last week.”

“That's sweet.”

“When did you guys realize you were not straight?” Yongbok asked, adding “Congratulations by the way.” 

Minho paused, honestly he had never thought about this question. When did he realize? 

“I don't remember exactly when, but it was somewhere towards the thrid year of my high school.” Changbin replied. “I had dated a girl from my class before that, it was just a couple of months, but still. It was a shock for me when I realized that I had a crush on one of my male seniors.”

Yongbok nodded, turning his attention to his brother's boyfriend. “And you?”

“I…” Minho trailed off, he didn't know. “Honestly I don't know. Never even thought about it.”

The table fell silent, everyone lost in their own thoughts, but neither of the three knew that all of them had the same person in their thoughts. 

“I'll be waiting for your and Chan's wedding invitation.”

Minho blinked, taken aback by the teacher's words. 

“Me too.” Yongbok added, making him turn his attention to the youngest. 

Changbin gave him a warm smile, reaching out to place his hand on Minho's. “Six hours and a couple of days to rest. Chan will be back to health.”

“The young man is right.” 

Confused, the trio turned in the direction of the new voice. The man who spoke was now walking to their table, dragging a suitcase along with him. 

“Dad?” Yongbok stood up from the chair, surprised on seeing his father in the hospital. “When did you come to Seoul?”

The forty six year old male hugged his son back, “Your mom told me what happened, so I took the earliest flight to Seoul.” Pulling back from the hug, he observed his son's face, giving him a proud smile. 

Just by looking at his father's smile, Yongbok knew that he knew everything, including the statement he had given to the prosecutor. Yongbok smiled back in relief, he didn't have to worry now, he was doing the right thing. “Hyungs,” He turned to face the two who were silently watching their interaction. “Meet my dad.”

“Lee Louis Dongjae, Chirs’ uncle.” Dongjae extended his hand forward for a handshake. 

Changbin was quick to react, reaching out to return the gesture, “Seo Changbin, Channie's high school friend.” 

Minho followed, “Attorney Lee Minho, Chris’ bo–” he stopped before continuing. He didn't know what this male in front of him knew. “I'm his friend as well.”

“Hyung, you can tell the truth.” Yongbok said, adding “Dad, he's hyung's boyfriend.”

“Felix!” Minho called out, shocked. Did the younger man just give out their relationship status to his father? What if he–

“Oh it's you!” 

Minho blinked, his thoughts coming to a sudden stop. He never expected the positive response from the older. His eyes widened in shock when he was pulled into the warm embrace of Dongjae, who surprisingly was happy. 

“Thank you for always being there for our Channie.” Dongjae thanked, eyes grateful as he patted the attorney's shoulder. 

“You…you don't mind?” Minho couldn't help but ask. 

Dongjae chuckled at the attorney’s expression. “Son, I'm not against homosexual relationships. And I'm really glad that Chris found someone to love him, care for him, someone who'd keep him above anything or anyone else.”

No, Minho's eyes definitely didn't tear up on hearing the older male's words. He wasn't a good boyfriend, because if he was then they wouldn't be standing here in the hospital. 

“Dongjae?”

All their heads turned on hearing Moonsik's surprised voice. The said male was brisk walking towards their group, his expression completely showing his confusion. 

“Don't worry, I know hyung-nim isn't aware of your relationship.” Dongjae reassured, squeezing the attorney's arm before stepping in front of him. 

“Hyung-nim.” He greeted, bowing to his brother in law, who just nodded in return. “I'm sorry for what happened to Channie. How is he doing now?”

Moonsik nodded, eyes scanning the trio now standing behind Dongjae, “Chan? Oh he's still in surgery, so I can't say much.”

“I hope the surgery is successful.” saying that, Dongjae pulled out a chair, “If you have some time, can we talk. I had something important to discuss with you.”

Moonsik gave the other three a look, “Let's go home and talk. That would be better than here in the hospital.”

“I won't take much of your time. Also I want Lix to be a part of this conversation as well.”

Yongbok gave his father a confused frown, what did he want to talk about? In return the university student received the same frown from the attorney when Dongjae added, “Minho-ssi, Changbin-ssi, I'm sorry but I'd like this conversation to be within the family members, so if you don't mind could you give us some privacy?”

Yongbok shrugged, indicating to the attorney that even he didn't have any idea about this. Minho nodded, Changbin copying the action, “Sure.” they both said, the attorney giving the youngest a look that asked him to call him if something happens. 

Moonsik had no idea what to expect from his sister's husband who he didn't know how knew about Chan's suicide. Bora must have blabbed to Yunsuk. He cursed. “What is it that you wanted to talk about?” he asked the moment they sat on their respective chairs. 

Dongjae placed his hand behind his son's chair, “I bought an apartment in Hongdae under Lixie’s name.”

Moonsik frowned, immediately morphing his expression into that of happiness, “That great! When will the construction be completed?”

“It's ready to move in. That is what I wanted to talk about.” Dongjae gave his son a warm smile. “Lix won't be returning back to your place now. I want him to shift into his place at the earliest, especially with everything happening around.”

Moonsik's feet silently started tapping on the floor. “With everything that's happening around? Could you elaborate what you're trying to convey?”

Dongjae took a deep breath, placing both his hands on the table between them. “Chris committed suicide, I don't know why, but he did. To a certain extent we both know what pushed him towards this decision. I don't want my son to continue living in a toxic environment where his mental health may be at stake. Lixie is young, he's got a long way to go ahead, and no offense but honestly speaking your house is the last place I'll leave him to stay at.”

Moonsik's jaw ticked in annoyance, “What are you trying to imply here Dongjae?”

The addressed male shook his head, “Hyung-nim, I'm not trying to imply anything here. I'm clearly saying that I don't want my son to live in a house where his health, both physical and mental, is at risk. I don't want him to continue living in a place which is not safe for him.”

Moonsik scoffed, “Not safe for him! I've been raising your son like my own for years and this is what you have to say.”

“No, this is exactly what I don't want.” Dongjae snapped, “I don't want Lixie to go through what Chan has been going through for years. I want them, both Lix and Chris, to live their lives peacefully. And that is why the apartment is in joint ownership of Felix and Chris.”

Moonsik saw red. Who was he to buy an apartment in his son's name? “I'd like to see how Chan leaves the house.”

“We'll get the answer for that when he wakes up. Because this time his decision will be respected and no one, mark my words, not even you would be able to manipulate him.”

✤

30.07.2021

I'm alone. 

I need a hug

Want someone to just hold me

Want to be noticed

Want to be at least acknowledged

I'm tired

He asks do what you wanted to do

But I don't know what I want

That's how much I'm lost

How can I tell that all I need is him

Want him to wrap his arms around me

But I don't want to be overbearing

I want to cry

Just need someone to talk to

Someone who'd just hold me when I pour my heart out

I don't know what to do

My heart feels heavy. 

So so heavy

—Chris… 

« I write so I can breathe »

Chapter Text

03.10.2022

I'm such a failure

I'm a nuisance

I don't deserve this life

I don't deserve to live

I'm nothing but a problem 

I'm so fucking stupid

I hate myself so much

I hate myself

I hate myself

I hate myself

I want to die

I don't want to live

Kill me

Please someone

I don't want to live

—Chris… 

« I write so I can breathe »

But I don't want to

✤

Unlike others, this wasn't Minho's first time in this room. He had been in and out of this room several times, which if taken through a common man's point of view would be worrying. But he was an attorney so spending time in the interrogation room came along with his job. 

Just the difference was that every time he was in this room, he was seated on the other side of the table, instead of where he was currently sitting. 

“Lee Minho-ssi.” Seungmin entered, investigator Park following close behind. “Apologies for keeping you waiting.” the young prosecutor added, voice not at all apologetic, as they finally settled. 

Minho shook his head, “I understand, something might have come up.”

“Of course you do.” Seungmin gave him a polite smile, “Actually that would be my first question. Minho-ssi, your profile here states that you are an attorney, but as far as I remember our first meeting, you never introduced yourself as one. May I know the reason?”

“I didn't feel it was the right place to showcase my qualification and profession. Right now I am sitting here as Chan’s boyfriend Lee Minho and not attorney Lee Minho.”

Seungmin hummed, sharing a look with his companion before saying, “Justifiable, to a certain extent. Well that brings me to another question, you work for Bae & Baek LLC, is that right?”

“Yes.”

“Do you perhaps know an attorney named Yang Jeongin? He works in the same firm.”

“I do.” Minho confessed, “In fact he's my hoobae, he's a part of my team.”

Seungmin was not at all expecting the attorney to accept that he knew Yang Jeongin, let alone confess that the mentioned male was a part of his team. On the other hand Minho's sharp eyes had noticed the shock that flashed in the young prosecutor’s eyes. 

“Your reaction says you weren't expecting me to answer that.”

“I was expecting that answer.” Seungmin denied the attorney's assumption, “But not without some pressure from my end.”

“Prosecutor Kim, I've been an attorney even before you joined the law school. At least give me that much credit.”

Seungmin gave the attorney a skeptical look, he's confident in himself, overconfident. Instead of replying to the older male's words, he moved on to his set of questions. “For how long have you known the victim?”

“Over ten to eleven years.”

“Over those years how often did you meet his parents?”

“Rarely.” Minho replied, mentally thinking about the selected number of times he had personally crossed paths with the Bang family. 

Seungmin hummed, “How would you describe your first interaction with them?” 

“First interaction?” Minho furrowed his brow, thinking about the first time he met, no, crossed paths with the Bang family. “If I can clearly recall, the first time I crossed paths with Bang Moonsik was during one of the initial days of our second year. I didn't know Chan at that time though, he was a new student. His father used to drop him and pick him up everyday it seemed. I was waiting for my friends after the lectures when I noticed him hurriedly running out of the campus gates to the man standing outside beside a car. Chan had his head lowered while Bang-ssi was shouting at him. Then he grabbed Channie by his forearm and pushed him inside the car, before driving away.”

Seungmin observed the attorney's face, searching for any sign of a lie, finding none. “Is that what piqued your curiosity for Chan-ssi?”

Minho shook his head, “No. I'm sorry but how is this question related to the case?”

“I'll request you not to cross question.” the prosecutor warned. 

Minho bit back whatever he was about to say, instead replied to the previous question. “No it was not.” He wouldn't say that the scene didn't make him curious about the other male, but that wasn't why he developed his friendship with his now boyfriend. 

“And how would you describe your relationship with the victim?”

Minho frowned on hearing the way the prosecutor addressed Chan. “Can you stop addressing Channie as the victim?”

Seungmin tilted his head in amusement, “Attorney Lee, are you implying that he is not a victim here?”

Minho's frown deepened “He is. I never said he isn't. It just doesn't feel right, he is still alive. Call him by his name.”

“As you wish, Attorney Lee. Can you describe your relationship with Chan-ssi?”

“We are boyfriends, we've been together for over five years. So yeah I can say our relationship was good.”

“Does that mean you both never had any differences or fights?”

The attorney was forced to stop and think where this conversation was headed. “We are humans, of course we'd have some differences in choices and opinions.”

“That's a diplomatic answer, Attorney Lee.”

“It might be diplomatic, but that's true isn't it?”

Lee Minho was an intelligent person, and that accompanied by his expertise as an attorney added to his character. Seungmin could now see why the attorneys at Bae & Baek LLC had a reputation in the industry. He would definitely take some pointers from either of the attorneys once this case is closed. 

“Let's frame that question better. What were the major reasons for disagreement between you and Chan-ssi?”

Minho couldn't understand how this was related to the case. “I don't understand how this is related to the suicide case.”

“That's for us to know Lee-ssi. It would be better if you answer those questions instead of questioning their validity.”

The attorney looked between the two men sitting in front of him, both watching him with careful eyes, anticipating an answer. His brain now went to the contents of Chan's journal, but he couldn't clearly remember what might have brought this question up. 

“There were many reasons, I can't pick something specific.”

The clicking of the keyboard filled the silence as the prosecutor waited for Minho to add more, sighing when he didn't. “The journal you submitted as evidence says that the major reason had always been Chan-ssi's parents. Is that right?”

There it was, the question Minho knew would come. “Yes, it is.”

The prosecutor motioned his partner to record the statement accurately, as he leaned forward, placing both his elbows on the table, “And I guess that's the same reason you broke up with the victim.”

✤

09.11.2022

It's been a week to whatever this is, break or break up. I honestly can't understand what suddenly happened, where did things go wrong. We were going good weren't we? Oh… I guess we weren't. He said it himself, “We were going good but only according to you.”

It's me isn't it? 

Honestly, I don't know why but I had been expecting this. Him to burst out. Him to leave me. 

We met today, he came to pick me up, then we went to this cafe to talk. I don't know why but I was expecting us to patch things up, come back together after today's talk. But things never go the way you plan. 

I asked him again what was it that he needed, a break from our relationship or completely ending things between us. This time he was a bit clear that he just needed a break. At least that was better. 

But he's so confusing. 

He's… he's acting like everything is fine, but then suddenly he shuts off. I can't understand. I know one thing for sure that it's me, it's me because of whom he felt stuck. He gave me this statement today, “It's not like I'm saying this to hurt you, but it is the truth. I can't see you taking any initiative to get out of that house. I know you are doing it but I can't see it. I can't, not a single percent.”

I just couldn't speak. I was just mixing up the ice cream in my cup, melting it. My leg couldn't stop bouncing but I had promised myself I wouldn't show how much I actually was affected. Even if I was breaking on the inside, I had to keep my strong mask up. I couldn't let that down because then again it would be me trying to gain sympathy. 

I let him speak, but there was one thing he said the most “If I actually say what's in my head, it will definitely hurt you to an extent where there'll be no coming back from. You'll break completely if I say everything that I want to say to you.”

What is it? I wanted to ask. What is it? I did ask. 

He said if he spoke further, I wouldn't be able to handle it. 

Do I appear so weak to him? 

I have so many thoughts inside my head that I don't know how to let them out. I don't know whom to share what I'm feeling? Min clearly said that he was tired of pampering me, that he had lost himself while being with me. 

I won't ever bother him with what I'm going through. No one wants to be with a depressed suicidal partner. Everyone will reach their limits when with me. All I do is suck out people's happiness from their lives. 

I won't share. 

But I need a hug. 

—Chris… 

« I write so I can breathe »

Chapter Text

The memories of everything that had been happening since the past four to five months came rushing back to him as he sat in the cafe a few blocks away from the hospital. The interrogation had concluded three hours ago and the way the young prosecutor looked at him said that unlike Yongbok he was still under their radar of suspicion.

Of course Chan would have written about their break up as well. He didn't have anyone in whom he could confide about the things that happened and the way Yongbok had been treating him, he was sure Chan had kept the younger in the dark about it. 

“So you actually broke up with him?” 

Minho’s hands stopped stirring the drink, feeling the gaze of both his friends peering into his soul. He had kept this decision to himself, not letting either of them get an idea of what was happening. But now that it was out, with everything that was going around, he didn't know how to explain his reasons for taking that step. 

“And you literally thought that Channie hyung won't mention that in his diary? Especially when that is where he has always felt the most safe to show his vulnerable side?” 

Hyunjin's words were like a bucket of ice cold water being upturned on him. The grip on his glass tightened, as thoughts flooded his brain. Was he the reason his boyfriend committed suicide? Out of the two, he was aware Chan was the most affected by that month-long break. Did I push him towards this decision? 

“You didn't push him to make this decision.” Jisung's hands were on his, carefully removing the glass away from his grip. “And you,” He bumped his shoulder with Hyunjin's, “You know he starts overthinking whenever he's sensitive.”

“I know he gets sensitive but I'm just surprised how did this slip his mind.” Hyunjin shrugged, leaning forward on the table, “And I still can't understand why the fuck you never told us about breaking up.”

“It's done now!” Minho couldn't help but snap. “We had an argument, a disagreement and all my pent up frustration just overflowed.”

Minho knew what he did was wrong, he knew it was a reckless decision, one made in anger, without putting any thought to it. The haze of anger told him that he made the right decision but once it cleared he couldn't help but realize that it was the biggest mistake of his life. During the period of their break he had been staying with his parents, venting out all his emotions to his mom almost every night. But who was Chan venting out to? 

Walking out of the prosecution office, Minho did the first thing that came to his mind, texted both of his friends to meet him at the cafe. He didn't want to be alone. His mind was a jumbled mess of thoughts, numerous what ifs going around in circles as he drove to the selected location. 

“That day, doctor Yoon said that Channie must have been showing symptoms of blockage for a long time.” The attorney sighed, fingers absentmindedly gliding over the condensation left from his drink. “Later when I looked up the symptoms, I realized that those were right in front of my eyes all along. And I just let it slide saying that it's normal.” 

Hyunjin silently got up from his seat and took one beside the oldest of the three. “Hyung,” He wrapped his arms around his friend, hugging him as he spoke, “Stop beating yourself up for whatever happened. You didn't know, you couldn't know. You being unable to spot the symptoms doesn't make you a bad boyfriend, nor does it reduce your love for him.”

“Also the surgery was done, and it was successful.” Jisung smiled from across the table. “It's just a matter of a few hours before he gains consciousness and moves further towards his recovery.”

Minho nodded, sucking in a deep breath. He was right, the doctor had given them a timeline of twenty four hours during which Chan would have gained consciousness. “What if–” 

“No what ifs!” both their voices mixed as one flicked his ear while the other his forehead, making the oldest of the trio frown. 

“I need to go back to the hospital.”

“It's almost dinner time.” Jisung pointed out, already collecting his stuff. “Let's go grab a quick dinner and we'll drop you at the hospital.”

“But–”

“No buts.” Hyunjin interrupted, already pulling the older one along with him. “If we don't force feed you, you'll just order another coffee and skip dinner.”

Minho glanced at both his friends as they piled up in his car, Hyunjin getting comfortable behind the wheel while Jisung leaned in between their seats, trying to connect his phone to the Bluetooth. The attorney felt a wave of warmth bloom in his chest as he listened to them bicker about what to eat. He had never felt more thankful towards God for sending them in his life. 

They really hadn't put much thought into their dinner. Thus when Hyunjin pulled up in front of a McDonald's drive thru, they went along with it. 

“Wow, it seems like the entire city decided to pick their dinner from McDonald's!” Hyunjin groaned behind the wheel. 

“Dammit!” Jisung cursed behind them, pulling his hood to cover his face. “I should have been more careful. Now they have followed me here!” 

Minho turned to Hyunjin hoping for an explanation, who just shrugged in response shaking his head. “Who is following you?”

“My fans!” Jisung exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. “You guys know right how crazy my fans can get!”

The car went silent after his confession, as the other two rolled their eyes, turning back to the front. “And he's back in his delusion.”

“And you are back to being jealous!”

Minho just shook his head, toning out their bickering as he pulls out his vibrating phone. The caller’s name made every single nerve on his body alert. Lee Yongbok. Yongbok only ever called when it was something important. Sliding the green icon he immediately pressed the device to his ear. “Yes?”

There was some shuffling on the other side accompanied by various voices overlapping each other before the university student's voice came in. “Hyung, he woke up.”

✤

23.11.2022

 

 

You're doing it again

Playing with my head, playing with my heart

 

I don't like this game of yours

It hurts my head, it breaks my heart

 

You act like I mean something more to you

But those long pauses, say there's someone else too

 

One moment you're close, the next distant

I just wish you'd understand, the words I've always left unspoken

 

 

 

—Chris… 

«I write so I can breathe»

✤

Hyunjin had never driven so fast, to the extent of almost breaking the traffic rules. The moment the call disconnected, Minho's voice echoed in the vehicle, asking him to turn the car and reach the hospital at the earliest. Reaching the hospital he first dropped Minho and Jisung at the drop off point, “I'll meet you guys inside, just text me the room number.”

Minho absentmindedly nodded, running inside the building, too focused on getting to his boyfriend as soon as possible. Reaching the corridor his eyes immediately recognized Yongbok, seated on the metal bench with his father's arm around his shoulder. The school teacher stood beside them in casual clothes which was a change from his usual office look. 

As their footsteps neared the trio, Yongbok's head snapped in their direction and he stood up. 

“How did the interrogation go?” 

“How's Chan?”

Both the males spoke at the same time as the attorney reached them. “It was fine.” Minho replied, turning to look through the glass opening on the door. Doctor Yoon stood with his back to the door, another doctor by his side, taking notes as the other spoke, blocking the attorney from seeing his boyfriend's face. 

“The doctor is doing a check up.”

Minho finally turned to face Yongbok as he spoke, “He gained consciousness about fifteen minutes ago, when I called you. He just opened his eyes,” Yongbok glanced in the room, “I don't know, I guess for about two or three minutes he was awake before falling unconscious again. Since then the doctor is inside. We didn't get to see him or meet him but he was awake.” 

There was a relief on the younger's face, for the very first time, Minho could see the student's eyes shine with hope and life. He himself could feel his shoulders relax taking in the expressions of everyone present there. Even though it was just a few minutes, Chan had woken up after almost a week. He wanted to just enter the room and hold his lover's hand while he waited for him to wake up again. 

Doctor Yoon turned around to meet the attorney's steady gaze before he spoke something to his junior and walked out of the room. “Mister Lee.” He greeted, extending the greeting to the group.

“How's Channie doing?”

“As far as the surgery is concerned, it has been successful and the effect is slowly but definitely visible. With regards to the injuries sustained due to fall, he will take more time to recover from those.” The doctor said. 

“Hyung… he just woke up right?” Yongbok asked, “But he wasn't even awake for five minutes.”

Doctor Yoon just shook his head, “That is nothing to worry about. Since he had been kept under medically induced comatose for around a week, his body will take some time to recover. Also with the surgery and his injuries, his body will be weak. I'd request you all to not crowd him and call me or doctor Kang inside whenever he wakes up.” He completed, pointing to the doctor inside the room. 

“And yes, before I leave.” He stopped midway at the room's door, “Any one person can stay with the patient for the night.”

“I'll stay.” Minho declared the moment the door clicked shut. 

“Are you sure Minho?” Dongjae asked, taking in his appearance. “You look too tired. If you want I can stay tonight.”

“No, it's okay. I'm fine now.” His eyes lingered on his boyfriend's face which now was visible through the opening. “I won't leave him alone.” 

Dongjae nodded in understanding, looking at his nephew's sleeping figure as the two doctors went about their check ups. 

“Where are his parents?” 

All their attention turned to Hyunjin who had been listening to their conversation since he arrived. Minho's eyes quickly darted around the corridor, face contouring into confusion on noticing their absence. 

“They haven't been here all day.” Changbin added, making the attorney raise his eyebrows in surprise. 

“Last evening I heard hyung-nim on a call with someone.” Dongjae spoke, recalling what he had heard, “It appears that he has been preparing for the interrogation along with his friend.”

Yongbok couldn't help but laugh, “I'm the youngest among those questioned and yet I didn't put so much time into preparation.” 

“That's because you didn't have anything to hide.” Jisung pointed out. “And their pot is now overflowing.”

Minho couldn't agree more to that statement. What happened between them was something that was out of their control, a domino effect of the circumstances. But the things that happened in the Bang household was something that had to be brought out in light. Minho just hoped that the prosecutor could find something more to prove them guilty. 

Chapter Text

Seungmin sat in the interrogation room, a small stack of documents and evidence laid out before him on the cold steel table. The room was quiet, the air heavy with anticipation. Just outside, the buzz of the precinct barely reached him, muffled and distant, as if the world had dimmed to focus solely on this moment.

In front of him was the centerpiece of the case: Chan’s diary. The leather-bound book, worn with use, was both a record of a young man’s life and a silent witness to his pain. Seungmin had spent the better part of the last night poring over its pages, each entry deepening the knot in his stomach.

Evidence, they called it. But to Seungmin, it felt more like a window into a fractured soul.

He exhaled deeply, bracing himself as he flipped through the pages. Each entry was carefully dated and neatly written, Chan’s thoughts laid bare in the inked lines. As Seungmin read each page, a fleeting thought crossed his mind—if only he could have been there for Chan, just once, to hold him close when the weight of everything threatened to crush him.

The last entry was dated December 31st—a poignant, reflective piece about the turning of the year.

31.12.2022

 

 

Here’s to another year. A better one, maybe? Or just another one I’ll survive. I don’t know anymore.

 

 

 

—Christopher.

«I write so I can breathe»

The last stain of ink in this book 

Will be my last breath in this world

 

Seungmin’s fingers traced the faint indentations on the page, a sinking feeling settling in his chest. Beyond this point, there was nothing. No entries for January. No entries leading up to February 4th—the day Chan had decided to end it all.

The void spoke louder than words. 

Chan had already given up on breathing. 

He leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his face. In his years as a prosecutor, Seungmin had encountered more than his share of disturbing cases, but this one felt heavier. The accusations of abetment to suicide against Chan’s parents, brought forth by Yongbok, were serious.

Seungmin flipped back to an entry from mid-December, Chan’s words etched deep with anguish:

17.12.2022

 

 

Dad says I’m a disappointment again. Nothing I do is enough. Today, he tore and threw my sketchbooks on the floor and told me to ‘get my act together.’ He says I’m wasting his money by pursuing dreams I’ll never achieve. It’s hard to breathe in this house sometimes. Hard to feel like I exist.

 

 

 

—Chris… 

«I write so I can breathe»

It's suffocating

I can't

The allegations of domestic abuse against Chan’s father weren’t baseless. The diary supported them, piece by piece, in painful detail. And yet, Seungmin knew that the truth would be hard to extract from the man who was about to enter this room.

Moonsik wasn’t an easy man to deal with. Seungmin had met him once before—once during his visit to the hospital. Moonsik had been calm, collected, and infuriatingly evasive. There was a charm to his demeanor, a deliberate polish that masked the cold, manipulative edge beneath.

Seungmin leaned back in his chair, his jaw tightening as he thought about the task ahead. Moonsik wouldn’t crack easily. Men like him never did. They thrived on control, twisting words and deflecting blame until the truth was obscured.

The door to the interrogation room creaked open, and Seungmin’s partner, Daeho, stepped inside.

“He’s here,” he said quietly, his tone measured.

Seungmin gave a curt nod, his gaze dropping briefly to the diary before he closed it and slid it to the side. “Bring him in,” he said, his voice calm but firm.

Moments later, Moonsik entered the room, his polished shoes clicking against the floor. He wore an expensive suit, his tie perfectly knotted. His expression was neutral, but his eyes carried an air of defiance. 

This wasn't a business function or an event for him to be dressed up like that. 

“Prosecutor Kim,” he greeted smoothly, his voice carrying a faint, condescending lilt. “I assume you’ve called me in to clear up this unfortunate misunderstanding.”

Seungmin gestured to the chair across from him. “Have a seat, Bang-ssi.”

The man sat down with practiced ease, folding his hands neatly in front of him. His demeanor was almost casual, as though this were a business meeting rather than a formal interrogation.

Seungmin took a moment to study him, his mind racing through the plan he’d carefully constructed. The questions had to be precise, the approach methodical. He couldn’t let Moonsik dictate the flow of the conversation, couldn’t let him seize control.

He opened the folder in front of him, revealing a copy of the diary’s entries. The pages were carefully marked with tabs, highlighting key sections that corroborated the claims of abuse.

“Before we begin,” Seungmin said, his tone steady, “I want to remind you that you are here voluntarily, and you are free to leave at any time. However, any statements you make during this interview will be on record and may be used in court.”

Moonsik inclined his head slightly, his lips curling into a faint smile. “Of course. I’m happy to cooperate, Prosecutor Kim.”

Seungmin resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Happy to cooperate? The man’s very presence radiated resistance.

“Let’s begin with your relationship with your son,” Seungmin said, leaning forward slightly. His gaze was sharp, his voice unwavering. “Can you describe your interactions with him over the past few months?”

Moonsik adjusted his tie, his fingers pulling at the knot with practiced nonchalance. His eyes locked with Seungmin’s, a glint of confidence in his gaze that made Seungmin’s skin crawl. The man had mastered the art of appearing calm, even when cornered.

“My relationship with my son?” Moonsik repeated, as though the question were beneath him. He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “I’ve always done what any father would do—try to guide him, push him in the right direction. The world isn’t kind, Prosecutor Kim. Ask your parents, they'll agree with me. You can’t coddle your children if you want them to survive.”

Seungmin noted the way Moonsik's words dripped with calculated condescension. He could already sense where this was headed—deflecting responsibility, presenting himself as the martyr, the misunderstood disciplinarian.

“Keeping my personal life aside, could you clarify what you mean by ‘guide him’?” Seungmin pressed, his voice neutral. He didn’t want to fall into the trap of getting riled up, not yet. Not until he had a clear opening.

Moonsik leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the wooden surface. “Well, you know, I’ve always believed in tough love. Chan is… well, he’s not exactly the brightest when it comes to the real world. I’ve always had to steer him in the right direction, push him to realize his potential. You understand, right?”

Seungmin fought to keep his expression neutral, but the disdain was evident in his words. “So, you don’t think there’s anything wrong with how you’ve treated him? With the way you’ve spoken to him?”

Moonsik’s eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second before he masked it with a tight-lipped smile. “There’s nothing wrong with being strict. I love my son. I’ve provided for him, put a roof over his head, sent him to the best schools. He’s had every opportunity to succeed, but he’s wasted them.” He paused, his voice dropping just enough for Seungmin to catch the edge of resentment beneath the words. “I’ve tried to teach him the value of hard work. But instead, he sits around drawing in his sketchbook, dreaming up nonsense even after having a business degree from a recognized university.”

Seungmin felt his pulse quicken, his fingers gripping the edge of the table to steady himself. The man's words were deliberate, meant to shift blame entirely onto Chan. It was textbook manipulation—a tactic to present himself as the victim of his son's supposed laziness, his failure.

“And how do you think he felt about your ‘guidance’?” Seungmin asked, his voice cool, controlled. He was baiting Moonsik now, testing his composure.

Moonsik’s smile faltered slightly. He shrugged, a casual gesture that failed to mask the underlying tension. “How would I know? He’s been distant for months. Ungrateful. I’ve tried to talk to him, but he just shuts me out. Like a door that’s been slammed in my face every time I try to reach him. Maybe that’s the real problem—he’s too stubborn, too proud.”

Seungmin leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. This was the moment he’d been waiting for—the slip, the crack in the façade.

“And you never wondered why he became so distant?” Seungmin’s voice dropped, steady and firm, cutting through the self-righteousness. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe it was your words that drove him away? Maybe your ‘tough love’ broke something inside him?”

For a brief moment, Moonsik’s confident mask slipped. The muscle in his jaw twitched, and his eyes flickered toward the table. But in the next instant, his expression hardened again. He sat up straighter, the shift almost imperceptible, but it was there.

“Chan is weak,” Moonsik snapped, the crack in his demeanor disappearing as quickly as it had come. “That’s the problem. He doesn’t know how to handle adversity. I was just trying to prepare him for the real world. A world that isn’t kind to people who don’t know how to fight for themselves.”

Seungmin could feel the anger rising in his chest, but he kept his voice even. “So, your solution was to belittle him, humiliate him, and make him feel like he wasn’t good enough?”

Moonsik’s eyes flared, but instead of responding, he sat back in his chair, his arms crossing over his chest defensively. His lips tightened into a thin line. The silence in the room grew heavy, thick with the unspoken words that hovered in the air.

Seungmin’s gaze didn’t waver. He knew that Moonsik was playing a game—one where he controlled the narrative, one where he was the unquestionable authority. But Seungmin had seen it too many times before. He knew how to spot the cracks, how to shift the focus back to the truth.

And right now, the truth was simple.

Chan had been broken by someone who should have been protecting him. Someone who, despite all the wealth, all the power, had chosen to destroy his son instead of nurturing him.

Seungmin leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving Moonsik’s. “You know, Bang-ssi,” he began, his voice low, almost contemplative, “your son’s actions—his pain, his suffering—they’re not just a reflection of his weakness. They’re a reflection of what he’s been through. And from what I’ve seen in his diary, the damage isn’t just from some ‘disappointments’ or ‘failures.’” He paused, letting the words linger in the air. “It’s from you. Your words. Your actions.”

For the first time in the entire conversation, Seungmin saw a flicker of uncertainty in Moonsik’s eyes. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. He exhaled, straightening his posture, and nodded slowly.

“I’ve answered your questions, Prosecutor Kim,” he said coldly. “Now, if you’re done, I’d like to leave.”

Seungmin didn’t answer immediately. He simply stared at Moonsik, his mind racing through the possibilities. The young prosecutor’s gaze never left Moonsik as he added, ignoring the older male's earlier statement, "You know, it’s not just your actions I’m concerned with." His voice dropped, becoming colder, sharper. “Your wife... she confessed something in her interrogation that might interest you.”

Moonsik’s eyes immediately narrowed, his jaw tightening at the mention of his wife. The faintest tremor of discomfort flashed across his face, but he quickly masked it with an air of indifference.

“Confessed?” Moonsik repeated, as though the word itself was foreign to him. “What did she confess?”

Seungmin leaned forward slightly, his voice steady but heavy with accusation. “She admitted that there was a time when she begged your son to end his life.”

The room seemed to freeze, the words hanging between them like a tangible weight. For a moment, Moonsik said nothing. His lips parted, but no sound escaped. His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths as though he were struggling to comprehend the gravity of what Seungmin had just said.

"She said what?" Moonsik finally croaked, his voice breaking for the first time since the interrogation began.

"She begged him," Seungmin repeated, enunciating each word slowly, watching the way Moonsik’s body stiffened in response. “She said she was at her wit's end, overwhelmed with frustration and helplessness and she begged Chan to just end it all.”

Moonsik’s face flushed, the color rising to his cheeks as his hands balled into fists on the table. Seungmin could see the storm of emotion brewing in the older man's eyes—denial, rage, confusion—and yet, beneath it all, there was something else. Fear.

"That’s... that’s impossible," Moonsik stammered, shaking his head as if to dismiss the idea entirely. "Bora would never say something like that. You’ve misunderstood her words."

Seungmin’s voice remained firm. “It was clear, Bang-ssi. She admitted it freely in her interrogation. She said she was overwhelmed by everything, and at that moment, she couldn’t see any way out for Chan, for herself or for the family. But that doesn’t change what she said.”

Moonsik’s breathing grew heavier, his chest visibly rising and falling with each sharp inhale. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his fingers twitching like he was debating whether to lash out. His lips pressed together tightly as if fighting the urge to say something, but all that came out was a low, guttural growl of frustration.

"This is all just speculation. I don’t believe it," Moonsik muttered under his breath, his voice quivering with anger.

Seungmin watched him closely, unfazed. "It’s not speculation, Bang-ssi. It’s the truth. Your wife’s confession, the entries in Chan’s diary, and the state of your relationship with him all paint a clear picture. Chan wasn’t just dealing with rejection from you. He was dealing with an entire family that failed to protect him, that failed to see the extent of his pain."

The older man’s hands were now gripping the edge of the table, his knuckles white. “Don’t you dare speak of my family like that! You have no idea what it’s like to be in my position! Raising a child who’s weak, who can’t stand up for himself!” His voice cracked at the end, and Seungmin could see the hint of something darker lurking behind his words—a tinge of guilt, perhaps, or maybe something deeper.

"Then why didn’t you do anything when you saw the signs?" Seungmin shot back, leaning in closer, his tone unwavering. "Why didn’t you protect him when he needed you most? Your wife’s confession, the things Chan wrote in his diary—they all point to the same thing. Your family failed him. You failed him. And now, we’re trying to figure out how far that failure went."

Moonsik recoiled slightly, as though the truth was finally starting to settle in. His face contorted in frustration, but instead of retaliating, he remained silent. His eyes darted to the side, avoiding Seungmin’s gaze, and for the briefest of moments, he seemed vulnerable.

Seungmin didn’t let up. "You can deny it all you want, Bang-ssi, but the facts remain. Chan’s pain wasn’t just his own. It was the product of a broken home, a broken family and an abusive father. And now, he’s fighting for his life, all because no one, not you, not your wife, even thought to stop and listen."

Moonsik’s lips parted, but no words came out. Seungmin could feel the weight of the silence pressing in on them both. The interrogation was far from over, but this was the crack in the dam—the moment where the truth began to bleed through.

The silence was short-lived as Moonsik leaned back in his chair, the anger in his eyes boiling over. The tight grip on his hands betrayed his frustration as he let out a deep, almost sardonic laugh.

“Let me guess,” he started, his voice trembling with barely restrained fury. “This is all part of your grand plan, right? To make me the villain, to tear my family apart. And you’ve got your little accomplice in this too, don’t you?” His eyes narrowed, a sharp accusation hanging in the air. “Lee, that attorney friend of Chan’s—he’s behind all of this, isn’t he?”

Seungmin didn’t flinch, his gaze steady as he kept his voice calm, measured. “This has nothing to do with Attorney Lee.”

“Really?” Moonsik shot back, his voice rising. “Because from where I’m standing, this whole thing reeks of a personal vendetta. You and Minho have been working together, haven’t you? Trying to frame me for something I didn’t do, using Chan as your pawn in this sick game. You think you can just destroy my life because you think you’re doing the right thing?”

Seungmin leaned forward slightly, unbothered by the outburst, though the words stung. He didn’t let Moonsik’s attempt to shift the blame shake him. “This is not about Minho. This is about the truth, Bang-ssi. It’s about what happened to your son, and the abuse he suffered. And if you’re not part of that truth, you should be worried, because it doesn’t bode well for you.”

“Abuse?” Moonsik scoffed, throwing his hands up in the air as if the accusation were absurd. “You think I abused my own son? You think I’ve done something that horrible? You think you can twist every little detail to fit your narrative, just like Minho does? You’re no better than him, Seungmin!”

Seungmin remained calm, unfazed by the deflection. “I’m not twisting anything. The truth is clear, Bang-ssi. You and your family have failed Chan in ways that can’t be ignored.”

The older man’s face flushed crimson, the fury in his eyes blazing as his hands gripped the table so hard his knuckles whitened. “You’re a liar,” he growled, standing up abruptly, the chair scraping across the floor as he shoved it away. “I don’t have to sit here and take your baseless accusations. You can’t manipulate me like you’ve manipulated Chan, like you’ve manipulated everyone else in this case.”

Seungmin didn’t budge. “This isn’t manipulation. This is justice. And it’s coming for you.”

“Enough!” Moonsik’s voice cracked, his chest heaving with anger as he stormed toward the door, his footsteps echoing sharply in the small room. He paused for a moment at the threshold, throwing a look over his shoulder, his face twisted in frustration and fury.

“You think you can break me? You think you can ruin my family, ruin everything that I have built? I’m done here,” he spat, his words laced with venom. Without another word, he slammed the door behind him, the sound ringing in Seungmin’s ears.

Seungmin sat back, the air thick with tension. For a moment, all he could hear was the steady pulse of his own heartbeat, the residual heat of the confrontation still simmering in his chest. He shared a look with Daeho who had a similar expression. Moonsik was a dangerous man—full of denial, full of anger. But Seungmin wasn’t finished with him yet.

“The victim's statement hasn't been recorded yet.” Daeho reminded, giving the prosecutor another thread of hope to hold onto. 

The truth would come out, no matter how hard Moonsik tried to bury it. And Seungmin would be there, every step of the way, to ensure that justice was served.

Chapter Text

The hospital room was quiet, save for the steady beeping of the monitors. Minho sat by Chan’s bedside, his hands clenched tightly together as he watched the rise and fall of his boyfriend’s chest. He hadn’t left the room all night, unwilling to miss even a moment when Chan might wake.

Yongbok had returned earlier, briefly checking in before Minho urged him to go back home. Changbin had dropped by early on his way to the school, asking if there was any change in Chan’s health over the night, promising to drop by again in the evening.

Jisung and Hyunjin came by, bringing coffee and breakfast, but Minho barely touched it. Their lighthearted attempts at conversation did little to lift his mood; all he could focus on was Chan’s pale face and the slow, steady rhythm of the heart monitor.

He reached for Chan’s hand, his thumb brushing lightly over his knuckles. “Please,” he murmured under his breath, his voice trembling. “Just wake up.”

As if answering his plea, Chan stirred. At first, it was a faint twitch of his fingers, then a soft hitch in his breathing. Minho shot upright, his heart pounding. “Chan?” he whispered, his voice raw with a mix of hope and fear.

A strained breath escaped Chan’s lips, and his eyelids fluttered before slowly cracking open. His gaze was unfocused at first, but as his dark eyes wandered the room, they eventually landed on Minho.

Relief washed over Minho like a flood, tears brimming in his eyes. “You’re awake,” he breathed, his voice trembling. “Thank God.”

Chan blinked sluggishly, his expression unreadable as he struggled to make sense of his surroundings. His body felt heavy, his mind clouded, but the sight of Minho beside him was a sharp jolt. “Min…” Memories of the past weeks crashed into him—his despair, the fall, the cold abyss he had willingly stepped into.

He looked away abruptly, his chest tightening as guilt twisted his insides. His throat burned with unshed tears, and a wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm him. He couldn’t bear to meet Minho’s eyes.

Minho faltered, his smile fading as he noticed Chan’s sudden tension. “Channie,” he said softly, leaning closer. “It’s okay, love. You’re safe now. You don’t have to say anything.”

But Chan’s body betrayed him—his breathing grew shallow, his fists clenched weakly at the blanket, and his face turned further into the pillow. He felt Minho’s presence so close, his warmth, his care, but it only deepened the ache in Chan’s chest.

How can you even look at me after what I’ve done? The thought echoed in Chan’s mind, sharp and unrelenting. He squeezed his eyes shut, as if that could block out the weight of Minho’s unwavering gaze.

“I thought I lost you,” Minho murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “When I saw you like that… I—” He paused, inhaling shakily. “I can’t even describe how scared I was. How much it hurt.”

The words cut through Chan like a blade, his stomach twisting painfully. He hadn’t thought about what his actions might do to Minho—not truly. He’d been so lost in his own darkness that he hadn’t considered the devastation he’d leave behind.

His chest tightened further, and his body shook faintly. His fingers twitched at his sides, but they felt too weak to move. His lips parted slightly, but no words came. There was nothing he could say, no apology big enough to mend the damage he’d done.

Minho reached for his hand, gently wrapping his fingers around Chan’s. “You don’t have to say anything,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over Chan’s knuckles. “I just need you to know that I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Chan’s breath hitched at the touch, his chest heaving with an uneven inhale. He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t respond either. Instead, his gaze remained fixed on the far wall, his jaw tight as tears silently streamed down his cheeks.

Minho’s own tears spilled over as he watched Chan struggle against the storm of emotions inside him. “You’re not alone,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I know it feels like you are sometimes, but you’re not. You’ve never been. And I swear to you, Chris, I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you never feel that way again.”

The words settled over Chan like a fragile balm, their warmth struggling to seep through the thick layers of shame and guilt. He wanted to believe Minho, wanted to reach for that lifeline, but the weight in his chest was too heavy. His body trembled, his tears falling faster as he fought to keep silent sobs from escaping.

Minho stayed there, his hand steady on Chan’s, his presence a quiet anchor amidst the chaos. He didn’t push for a response, didn’t demand anything. He simply stayed, holding on, as if his resolve alone could keep Chan grounded.

After what felt like an eternity, Chan’s grip tightened—barely, but it was enough. Minho felt it and looked up, his heart swelling with cautious hope.

“It’s okay,” he murmured again, leaning closer. “We’ll get through this. One step at a time. Together.”

Chan didn’t respond, but the faint press of his fingers against Minho’s hand spoke volumes. It wasn’t forgiveness, not yet. But it was a beginning. A small flicker of trust in the darkness.

And for Minho, it was enough.

-

The soft hum of the hospital monitor was a comforting rhythm to Minho as he sat beside Chan. The hours since Chan had regained consciousness blurred together—Minho had been talking quietly, filling the silence with the small events Chan had missed while he was unconscious, hoping the gentle sound would keep him anchored to the present.

“And Changbin said he’d drop by after work,” he murmured, adjusting the blanket over his boyfriend. “Yongbok stopped in earlier, but I sent him home to rest. He’s worried too.”

Minho wasn’t sure if Chan was truly listening. Chan didn’t respond, his gaze distant, but the attorney didn’t mind. He wasn’t expecting much, not yet. The fragile way Chan held himself, the quiet tremors that wracked his frame—Minho could see the weight of guilt and pain in every movement.

Just as he reached for Chan’s hand again, the quiet was interrupted by the soft click of the door opening. Minho’s head snapped up, and his entire body stiffened as he saw who had entered. 

Chan's mother stood in the doorway, her hands tightly clasped as if steadying herself. The poise she was known for wavered just briefly when her gaze fell upon her son. Bora blinked, surprise flickering across her features before she schooled her expression back into composure. “I’m here to see my son,” she said simply, her tone clipped but not unkind.

Minho rose from his chair, positioning himself between Bora and the bed as though shielding Chan from her mere presence. His protective instincts flared like a fire, fueled by memories of the pain she’d caused. “You don’t get to do this,” he said, his voice cold and biting.

Bora’s expression softened, the lines around her eyes deepening. “I just want to see him.” she said, her voice quieter now.

“You don’t get to say that!” Minho shot back, his fists clenching at his sides. His heart was racing, adrenaline surging at the mere sight of her. Memories of the pain she’d caused Chan—her harsh words, her absence when he needed her most—flooded his mind. “You don’t get to walk in here like you care, like you didn’t—” His voice cracked, but he quickly steadied it. “I’m not going to let you hurt him again.”

Bora’s face fell, her expression tightening with a mix of guilt and sadness. “I’ve made mistakes, I know,” she admitted, her voice quieter now. “But I’m still his mother. I just—”

“Don’t,” Minho cut her off sharply, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t try to justify it. You don’t get to swoop in and act like you’re some loving mother now that he’s lying in a hospital bed.” His voice dropped lower, trembling with restrained fury. Where were you when he needed you the most? When he was breaking under the weight of everything you put on him?” His voice cracked, but he didn’t falter. “I’m not letting you hurt him again. Not this time.”

Bora hesitated, a shadow of guilt flickering across her face. “I know I’ve failed him,” she said after a long pause. “But please, Minho… I just want to see him. I’m not here to hurt him.”

Minho opened his mouth to argue again, but a faint voice stopped him.

“Min…”

Minho froze, his heart lurching as he turned to look at Chan. His boyfriend’s voice was barely more than a whisper, but it carried enough weight to make Minho’s chest tighten. Chan was looking directly at him, his lips trembling as he whispered again, “Min…”

He knew what his boyfriend wanted without needing to ask. Minho felt his resolve crack under the weight of that gaze, his anger giving way to a reluctant sigh. He could see it—Chan didn’t have the strength to argue, but he wanted this. He wanted to face her, to hear whatever she had to say.

Minho inhaled deeply, fighting back the urge to refuse. He glanced at Bora, then back at Chan, his shoulders sagging in reluctant defeat. He nodded slowly, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. “Okay,” he murmured, brushing his fingers lightly against Chan’s hand before turning back to Bora.

His eyes narrowed as he faced her. “I’ll let you talk to him,” he said, his tone sharp and unwavering. “But I’m staying right outside. And if you so much as upset him,” He stepped closer, his tone dropping to a dangerous whisper. “I won’t hold back this time.”

Bora nodded, her face unreadable, though her hands trembled slightly where they rested at her sides. “I just want to talk,” she said, her voice laced with quiet desperation.

Minho lingered for a moment longer, his gaze darting between her and Chan, before finally stepping toward the door. He hesitated with his hand on the handle, glancing back at Chan one last time. Their eyes met, and Minho offered him a small, reassuring nod. “I’ll be right outside,” he promised softly.

Chan gave the smallest of nods, his lips parting as if to speak but no sound coming out.

With one final warning glare at Bora, Minho stepped out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

Standing just beyond it, Minho pressed his back against the wall and clenched his fists, his mind racing. Every fiber of his being screamed to protect Chan, to shield him from the pain Bora and his family had inflicted in the past. He hated this. Hated leaving his boyfriend in the same room as the person who had caused him so much pain.

Yet, he also knew Chan—his heart, his desire to mend even the deepest wounds.

-

The silence stretched between them like an abyss. Bora stood just a few steps inside the room, her hands tightly clasped in front of her as her eyes settled on Chan. She didn’t speak, didn’t move closer, just stood there staring at him with an intensity that felt suffocating.

Chan lay still on the bed, his body heavy with exhaustion. His gaze flickered toward her, uncertain and searching. The air felt charged, thick with unspoken tension.

“You woke up.” Bora said finally, her voice low and almost detached.

The words were simple, yet they carried a weight that pressed down on Chan’s chest. He blinked, unsure how to respond. There was no warmth in her tone, no relief or joy—just a cold, factual statement.

Silence stretched again, heavy and oppressive. Then, after what felt like an eternity, she spoke again, her voice quieter but sharp enough to cut through the stillness. “Why?”

Chan’s brow furrowed, confusion clouding his features. “What?” he rasped, his voice hoarse and barely audible.

“Why did you wake up?” she asked, her tone as calm and clinical as if she were asking about the weather.

The question hit Chan like a blow to the chest. His breath caught, and his face contorted in pain. His eyes searched his mother’s, desperately seeking some sign of the mother he thought he knew. Instead, he found nothing but an unnerving coolness that made his stomach churn. “What… what are you saying?”

Bora’s gaze didn’t falter. She stepped closer, her heels clicking softly against the tiled floor. “Things were already messy enough,” she said, her tone unchanging. “And now that you’ve woken up, your father will have to face the consequences of something he never did.”

Chan stared at her, his expression shifting from confusion to shock. The blood drained from his face as her words sank in, and his chest tightened with a mixture of disbelief and betrayal. His mind raced, struggling to process what he was hearing. Was this really his mother standing before him? The woman who was supposed to protect him, to care for him?

His lips parted, but no sound came. He couldn’t find the words, couldn’t fathom how to respond to the cold detachment in her voice.

Bora took another step closer, her expression calm but her words cutting. “When that prosecutor comes to take your statement, you need to tell them that you’re mentally unstable. Say that your condition is what made you jump off.”

The room seemed to tilt, Chan’s world spinning as he struggled to comprehend what she was asking of him. His chest heaved as he tried to breathe through the tightness, his hands trembling weakly at his sides.

His voice broke as he finally managed to speak. “You… you want me to lie?”

Bora tilted her head slightly, as if considering his question. “It’s not lying,” she said dismissively. “It’s protecting the family. Your father—he doesn’t deserve to be dragged through the mud for this. You owe him that much.”

Chan’s heart twisted painfully, the betrayal cutting deeper with every word. He stared at her, his vision blurring as tears welled in his eyes. “I—” His voice cracked, the weight of her expectations suffocating. “You’re asking me to—”

“To do the right thing,” she interrupted, her tone firm and unyielding. “This mess can’t get any bigger than it already is. You’ll understand that someday.”

He shook his head weakly, his breath hitching as the tears finally spilled over. His mind was a storm of emotions—anger, sadness, disbelief, and a crushing sense of inadequacy. Was this all he was to her? Did his pain, his near-death, mean nothing to her?

“I can’t believe you…” he whispered, his voice barely audible but heavy with hurt.

Bora’s expression didn’t change. If his tears or trembling voice affected her, she didn’t show it. “This is for the best.” she said simply.

How could she? The thought screamed in his mind, over and over, as if it were the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. How could she say these things? How could she look at me like this?

Chan’s teary gaze flickered toward the door, his heart clenching as he silently begged for Minho to come back in. He didn’t think he could survive this conversation alone. For a moment, he wanted to call out, to scream for Minho to take her away, to protect him from the venom that was spilling from her mouth. But no sound came.

His voice felt trapped, buried beneath the weight of her words and his pain.

Bora remained where she was, her presence suffocating. She exhaled softly, as if she were tired, as if she were the one burdened by all of this. “I know this is hard for you to hear,” she said, her tone unnervingly calm. “But you have to think about the bigger picture, Chan.”

Her words twisted in his chest, each one digging deeper, cutting him open in ways he didn't know were possible. He turned his head slightly to glance at her, his tear-filled eyes wide with disbelief. “Bigger picture?” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I almost died. I…” He choked on his words, his breath hitching. “I wanted to die.”

Bora's lips pressed into a thin line, her gaze unreadable. “I know,” she said softly, but there was no warmth in her voice, no understanding. “And I'm sorry it came to that, truly. But you survived, Chan. You're still here. And now you have to face the consequences of that.”

The room felt colder, the air heavy and stifling. Chan's stomach churned, bile rising in his throat. How could she speak so casually about his pain, his near-death, as if it were just another problem to fix?

“Do you even care?” he croaked, his voice raw and trembling. “Do you care that I... that I was in so much pain I couldn't see another way out?”

For a moment, something flickered in her eyes- regret, guilt, maybe even sadness. But it was gone as quickly as it came. She clasped her hands together, her expression composed. “Of course I care, Chan. You're my son. But this... this is bigger than your feelings. Bigger than mine. Sometimes we have to make sacrifices for the greater good.”

The silence in the room was suffocating. Chan’s fingers trembled as they gripped the edge of the blanket, his chest heaving. He felt the anger simmering beneath the surface, battling with his overwhelming pain.

“Sacrifices,” he repeated bitterly, his voice barely audible at first. Then louder, more raw, “That’s all I’ve ever been to you, isn’t it? A sacrifice. A means to an end.”

Bora’s brows furrowed, a flicker of irritation breaking through her composed mask. “Don’t be dramatic,” she replied tersely. “You know that’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” Chan snapped, his voice cracking as it rose. The outburst sent a spike of adrenaline surging through his body, and suddenly the machines around him began to beep loudly, the sound sharp and urgent. His blood pressure spiked, the erratic rhythm echoing in the tense room.

Bora froze, her gaze darting to the monitors as panic flickered in her expression. But Chan didn’t notice—he was too far gone in his storm of emotions. His chest heaved as he struggled to breathe through the anger and betrayal ripping through him.

“You didn’t come here to see if I was okay!” he spat, his voice trembling. “You came here to use me! To make sure I play my part in keeping your perfect little world intact!”

The incessant beeping filled the space, each sound a jarring reminder of how close Chan was to breaking. Bora stepped forward slightly, concern mingling with frustration. “Calm down, Chan,” she said, her voice tight. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

Chan let out a hollow, bitter laugh, the sound ragged and broken. “Hurt myself?” he repeated, his tone dripping with irony. “I’m already broken! And you’re the one who keeps shattering me, over and over again!”

The relentless beeping filled the room, the sharp tones cutting through the thick tension like a blade.

Outside, Minho had just stepped away for a moment when he heard the alarms. His heart dropped, and he immediately bolted back toward the room. A nurse, hearing the commotion, rushed in alongside him.

“Chris!” Minho exclaimed as he stormed inside, his gaze locking onto his boyfriend. Chan was pale, his chest heaving, tears streaking his face as he struggled to breathe. The sight sent a jolt of fear through Minho’s chest.

“What happened here?” the nurse demanded, quickly moving to the monitors. Her sharp eyes darted between the readings and Chan, assessing the situation.

Minho didn’t wait for an explanation. He rushed to Chan’s side, his hand cupping his boyfriend’s damp cheek. “Breathe, baby,” he whispered, his voice trembling but steady. “I’m here. Just focus on me. Breathe.”

Chan’s wild, tear-filled eyes met Minho’s, and the raw emotion in them twisted something deep in Minho’s chest. Slowly, Chan took a shaky breath, then another, the tension in his body beginning to ease as Minho’s presence anchored him.

The nurse adjusted the IV drip and checked the readings on the monitors, her movements swift and efficient. “He’s stabilizing,” she said softly, glancing at Minho. “Keep him calm. He doesn’t need any more stress.”

Minho gave a tight nod, his jaw clenched. “Thank you,” he murmured without taking his eyes off Chan.

The nurse turned her attention to Bora, her expression neutral but firm. “Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. Whatever’s happening here is clearly upsetting the patient.”

Bora hesitated, looking between the nurse and her son. Her lips parted as if to argue, but the nurse’s unwavering gaze left no room for discussion. She gave a curt nod, but instead of leaving immediately, she tried to address Chan one last time.

“Chan, you need to—”

“Enough!” Minho snapped, his voice sharp and protective. He turned, his eyes blazing with fury. “You’ve done enough damage. Leave.”

The nurse stepped closer to Bora, her presence reinforcing Minho’s demand. “This isn’t up for debate, ma’am. Please step outside now.”

Bora stiffened, her expression briefly flashing with indignation, but under the combined pressure, she turned and walked out. The door clicked shut behind her, leaving the room heavy with the aftermath.

As soon as she was gone, the nurse gave Minho a reassuring nod. “Call for me if anything changes.” she said before stepping out to give them privacy.

Minho turned back to Chan, who looked utterly drained, his tears still falling silently. Without a word, Minho sank into the chair beside him, gently brushing Chan’s hair back from his damp forehead.

“She’s gone,” he whispered, his voice soft but resolute. “She won’t hurt you again.”

Chan’s breath hitched, and he leaned into Minho’s touch, his tears soaking the sleeve of Minho’s shirt as he clung to him, trembling.

“I’ve got you,” Minho murmured, his own tears slipping free as he held Chan close. “You’re safe now, baby. I promise. I won’t let anyone hurt you again.”

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Chan allowed himself to believe those words, even if just a little.

Chapter Text

“You look like shit.”

Felix’s voice was flat, but the emotion underneath it was impossible to miss. He sat hunched forward in the chair beside the hospital bed, elbows resting on his knees, fingers loosely interlocked.

He had spent hours watching from the sidelines as everyone came to see Chan, one by one, pouring their relief and affection into him. He had let them have their moments—Jisung and Hyunjin had practically burst in, their joy spilling over; Changbin had filled the room with his stories, his voice carrying over the hum of the machines; and Minho… Minho had never left. Felix had seen the way Minho’s fingers had stayed curled around Chan’s wrist, the way his eyes had traced every movement, every breath, as if afraid Chan would disappear if he looked away.

And now, finally, it was just them.

Chan let out a quiet chuckle, hoarse and tired. “Yeah? Well, I feel worse.” His voice was weak, barely more than a rasp, but there was a flicker of warmth behind it—a desperate attempt at humor, at normalcy. Felix could see right through it.

His jaw clenched as he studied his cousin, taking in the pallor of his skin, the dark circles under his eyes, the way he seemed smaller somehow, swallowed up by the stark white hospital sheets. It wasn’t just the physical toll that made Felix’s stomach twist—it was everything that had led up to this moment. The things Chan had carried alone. The things he hadn’t said until it was almost too late.

Felix let out a slow, unsteady breath. “You scared the hell out of me.” he admitted, his voice quieter now, less biting, more raw.

Chan didn’t look away this time. His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but no words came. Instead, his fingers fidgeted with the edge of the blanket, twisting the fabric between them in a nervous, absentminded motion.

Felix shook his head, leaning back in his chair. “Do you even get it?” His voice wavered, something breaking underneath the frustration. “How it felt to read that letter? To sit here, not knowing if you’d—” He cut himself off, swallowing against the lump in his throat.

Chan’s gaze dropped to his hands. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter than before. “I get it.” He hesitated, as if searching for the right words. “And I’m… I’m sorry.”

Felix let out a sharp exhale, rubbing his hands over his face. Anger, relief, exhaustion—they all swirled together inside him, making it impossible to settle on just one emotion. He had spent days trying to process everything, trying to make sense of why Chan had let things get this bad, and now that he was finally here, Felix didn’t know how to put any of it into words.

After a long moment, he let his hands drop, looking at Chan again. His cousin, his brother in every way that mattered, lying in that hospital bed, looking more fragile than Felix had ever seen him.

Felix sighed, shaking his head. “I swear, if you ever do something this stupid again—”

“I won’t,” Chan cut in, his eyes meeting Felix’s. “I promise.”

Minho lingered near the entrance of Chan’s hospital room, his eyes tracing the interplay of hope and hesitation that filled the space. The soft, rhythmic beeps of monitors underscored a fragile calm as Felix sat by Chan’s bedside, speaking in measured tones.

“Once you’re out,” Felix began, his tone gentle yet insistent, “dad has secured an apartment for us. A new place—a fresh start where you can finally leave all of that behind.”

Inside, Felix’s heart pounded with conflicting emotions. Relief washed over him at the thought of Chan’s recovery, yet an undercurrent of anxiety persisted. This apartment isn’t just a roof over our heads—it’s our escape from a past that still holds you hostage hyung, he silently vowed. Every word was an attempt to stitch together a future free from the controlling grasp of Chan’s parents. Yet, as he spoke, Felix noticed Chan’s eyes drifting into a world of deep thought, the lines of worry and indecision etched into his features.

Chan’s gaze was distant, filled with an internal struggle. The promise of a new beginning ignited a spark of hope, yet his hesitance betrayed a lingering fear of the unknown. Sensing the quiet turmoil, Felix leaned closer, his tone softening further.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured, “once all of this is behind us, they won’t have any hold over you anymore.”

At that moment, Minho stood quietly in the doorway, his presence both watchful and protective. His heart was a storm of conflicting emotions: gratitude that Chan had awakened, and sorrow for the battles yet to come. Minho’s inner plea was silent yet fierce— please shield him from another wave of pain.

A measured knock at the door broke the delicate stillness. Minho looked up to see Seungmin in the corridor, his expression a careful blend of professionalism and empathy. Minho stepped away, offering a cordial nod as he greeted the prosecutor.

“How is Chan doing?” Seungmin inquired, his tone gentle but laced with the gravity of his duty. There was a lingering warmth in his voice that belied the rigid expectations of his role. “Do you think he’ll be able to give a statement for the court?”

Minho paused, his eyes briefly returning to the room where Felix and Chan shared their intimate moment of hope and doubt. “Maybe,” he replied slowly, his voice betraying a hint of pleading. “He might be able to if he’s up to it. And if you could keep the questioning a bit lighter… just yesterday, his mother, Bora, was here, and her words sent his blood pressure soaring.”

Inside, Minho’s thoughts were a mosaic of worry and compassion. Every question, every probe, feels like another stab at his already fragile state. Please, handle this with care, he silently implored.

Seungmin exhaled slowly, letting Minho’s words settle. The weight of this case had been pressing on him for days, but here, outside Chan’s hospital room, it felt heavier than ever.

Chan’s statement—his firsthand account—was the final piece, the nail in the coffin. Without it, there were gaps, places where assumptions had to be made. With it, there would be no room for dcourt

But Seungmin knew better than anyone that the truth alone wasn’t always enough. His interrogation with Chan’s father had left him with more questions than answers. That interrogation had been a tangled mess of manipulation and evasion, and Seungmin had no way of predicting how it would play out in court. Would the jury see the truth? Or would the man’s influence twist the narrative just enough to plant doubt?

And if that happened? If the court wavered? The consequences wouldn’t just be legal.

Seungmin clenched his jaw, his mind racing through the possibilities. If Chan’s father walks away unscathed, what then? His influence was far-reaching, his grip over Chan—tight, unyielding. If the case failed, would Chan ever truly be free?

That couldn’t happen.

But neither could pushing Chan beyond his limits.

Seungmin had seen it before—victims forced to relive their trauma too soon, only to crumble under the weight of it. A strong statement meant nothing if the witness fell apart before they could even reach the stand. Chan was still fragile. His body had barely recovered, and his mind—there was no telling how much more strain he could take. One wrong move, and this case wouldn’t be about justice anymore. It would be about another life lost in the process.

His fingers curled into a fist at his side, tension coiling in his chest. There was no easy way forward, but he had made his decision.

Meeting Minho’s gaze, Seungmin let out a quiet breath. “I’ll take care of it,” he promised, his voice steady. “I’ll handle the questioning carefully. I won’t push him if he’s not ready.”

Minho studied him, the weight of his own experience evident in the way his expression shifted. “I know where you’re standing right now,” Minho said after a moment, his voice measured. “I’ve been there more times than I can count.”

Seungmin didn’t respond, but he didn’t need to. He understood what Minho was saying.

Minho’s stance shifted slightly, his arms crossing—not in defiance, but in thought. This wasn’t just about Chan anymore. This was about the job. The system. The reality of what they did. “As an attorney, I’ll tell you this: the prosecution doesn’t win just by getting a testimony. You win when that testimony survives in court. And if Chan isn’t ready—if he crumbles under cross-examination—it won’t just weaken the case. It will destroy him.”

Seungmin’s jaw tightened, Minho’s words striking exactly where he had already been second-guessing himself. He had known this, deep down. But hearing it from someone who had stood in his shoes, who had fought these battles before—someone who understood not just the law but the weight of what it demanded—made it sink in even further.

“I understand,” Seungmin said, and this time, he meant it in more ways than one.

Minho gave him a small nod, not of relief, but of mutual understanding. They were on the same side, even if they stood in different roles. And both of them knew that the road ahead would be just as much about protecting Chan as it was about seeking justice.

-

The air inside the hospital room was thick with antiseptic and something heavier—something unspoken. Seungmin stepped in, letting the door click shut behind him. His eyes moved over the room, taking in the quiet hum of the machines, the slow and steady rise of Chan’s chest as he lay against the hospital bed.

It was one thing to read medical reports and crime scene descriptions. Another thing entirely to see it in person. He had been in countless hospital rooms before, questioning victims, witnesses, and sometimes even suspects. But this— this felt different. 

Chan’s body bore the evidence of everything he had endured. White bandages wrapped around his wrists, a stark contrast against his pale skin. The neck brace kept his head in place, stiff and unmoving. His right arm was secured in a brace as well, and the IV line trailing from his hand connected him to a machine that beeped in steady intervals. A reminder that he was still here. Still breathing. Still alive.

Seungmin took in the sight, suppressing the heavy feeling in his chest. The last time he had seen Chan was in pictures—crime scene photos taken before he was rushed into surgery. The reality of it was worse.

For a moment, Seungmin said nothing. Then, finally, he cleared his throat. “How are you doing?”

Chan’s eyes flickered up to him, hazy with exhaustion yet still sharp. His lips curved slightly, but there was no real humor in the expression. “I’ve had better days.”

Seungmin exhaled through his nose, something like a short huff of amusement. “I’m sure you have.” He took a few steps closer, stopping beside the bed. “I won’t take too much of your time. But if you’re up for it, I’d like to ask you some questions.”

Chan blinked slowly, considering. Then he gave a small nod. “Yeah. That’s fine.”

But before Seungmin could continue, Chan shifted slightly against the pillows, wincing at the movement. His voice was quieter when he spoke again. “Did you get it?”

Seungmin frowned. “Get what?”

“My diary,” Chan clarified. His tone wasn’t urgent, but there was something firm beneath it. “The one I left with Minho.”

The room seemed to shrink around them. Seungmin had read every word in that diary. Every confession, every quiet plea buried between the lines. It was more than just evidence—it was a final act of defiance. Proof that even if Chan hadn’t survived, the truth would have.

Seungmin nodded. “Yeah. We got it.”

A slow exhale left Chan’s lips. It wasn’t relief. Not entirely. But it was something close.

The prosecutor didn’t hesitate before asking, “Why did you decide to leave it with Minho?”

Chan’s fingers curled slightly against the bedsheet, his body still except for that one movement. When he spoke, his voice was steady. “Because I knew my parents would search my room.” His eyes didn’t waver from Seungmin’s. “If they found anything that could prove they were responsible for what I did, they would have destroyed it. Keeping the diary in safe hands was the best option.”

Seungmin studied Chan carefully, his mind turning over the implications of his last statement. The diary had been damning, a collection of thoughts and confessions that could change the course of the case entirely. It wasn’t just evidence—it was a weapon. And yet, Chan had placed it in Minho’s hands without hesitation.

He tilted his head slightly, his voice calm but probing. “How were you so sure Minho would hand over your diary as evidence?” He met Chan’s gaze, watching for any flicker of doubt. “What if he had kept it hidden?”

Chan didn’t hesitate. Despite the exhaustion in his eyes, his answer was firm. “No matter how Minho might look or behave, he knows what to do with evidence when he finds one.”

There was no second-guessing, no wavering. Just certainty.

Seungmin watched him in silence. He had seen many things in his career—loyalty that faltered under pressure, trust that shattered when tested. But not here. Not with Chan.

This wasn’t just faith. This was understanding. A quiet, unwavering belief in the man he had entrusted with his truth.

Seungmin let Chan’s unwavering trust in Minho settle in his mind before shifting the conversation. His gaze flickered briefly to the door, where he had last seen Felix—Yongbok—sitting beside Chan, speaking to him with quiet reassurance.

Turning back to Chan, he asked, “What about Yongbok? What’s your relationship with him like?”

Chan blinked, slightly caught off guard by the question, but he answered honestly. “He’s more of a brother than a cousin.” His voice was steady, but there was a quiet warmth beneath it, something unshaken even in his current state. “He’s always been there for me.”

Seungmin nodded, absorbing the weight of that statement before continuing. “He’s the one who filed the lawsuit against your parents.” His tone was neutral, but he watched Chan’s face carefully as he delivered the news. “For abetment to suicide.”

Chan stilled.

His fingers, resting against the hospital blanket, curled slightly. The expression on his face didn’t change at first, but there was a shift in his eyes—something raw and unguarded flickering through them.

It took him a moment to respond, and when he did, his voice was quieter, the shock evident despite his attempt to keep it even. “I…I didn’t know that.”

Seungmin let Chan sit with the revelation for a moment before continuing, his voice steady but firm. “During the interrogation, Yongbok gave a statement,” he said, watching Chan closely. “I’d like to ask you some questions about that.”

Chan’s exhaustion was evident, but at Seungmin’s words, something in his expression sharpened. He listened intently, his posture shifting ever so slightly despite the constraints of his injuries.

Seungmin met his gaze. “Are your parents okay with your sexuality?”

There was no hesitation in Chan’s response. “No.” His tone was steady, resigned. There was no anger, no sadness—just the weight of something long accepted.

Seungmin nodded. “Can you recall any instance where they openly disregarded your choices?”

A beat of silence.

Chan’s fingers tensed slightly against the blanket. His expression remained composed, but there was something unreadable in his eyes, something distant. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter. “There are several,” he admitted. “It’s happened so many times that I’ve lost count.”

Seungmin let that settle before shifting his approach. “Do you remember the day you came out to them?”

Chan’s expression flickered—an almost imperceptible change. He didn’t freeze, but his gaze drifted slightly, as if looking through the walls of the hospital room into a past he didn’t particularly want to revisit.

“I didn’t exactly come out to them,” he murmured. “It was just something that happened.” A slow inhale. “Because of an overheard conversation.”

Seungmin tapped his foot lightly against the tiled floor, considering this new piece of information. Then, after a brief pause, he met Chan’s gaze again. “Can you revisit what exactly happened that day?”

Chan’s breath hitched, his fingers curling tighter into the blanket as his posture stiffened. His throat bobbed with a hard swallow, and for a fleeting moment, his carefully constructed composure cracked.  His eyes flickered—haunted, distant—flashes of something dark and painful surfacing despite his best efforts to suppress them. Fear glimmered in his eyes, subtle but unmistakable, a shadow of something long buried yet never forgotten.

Seungmin didn’t miss the way Chan’s fingers trembled slightly or how his jaw tensed, as if bracing for something unseen. His own expression remained steady, measured, but his gaze softened just a fraction, taking in the way Chan’s shoulders curled inward—an instinctive recoil, a silent defense against the memories clawing at him. Seungmin didn’t push, didn’t rush. He only watched, letting the weight of the past settle between them, waiting for Chan to decide how much of it he was willing to let spill.

Chan's lips parted slightly before pressing into a thin line, hesitation hanging heavy in the space between them. Then, with a voice barely above a whisper, strained and unwilling, he spoke. “I was on a call with my friend.”

Chan sat on the edge of his bed, his back resting against the headboard, one leg stretched out while the other was bent at the knee. The soft glow of his desk lamp was the only source of light in the room, casting long shadows along the walls. His phone was pressed against his ear, his voice low but firm as he listened to the distressed words spilling from the other end of the call.

“I don’t know, Chan… I— I shouldn’t feel like this, right?” His friend’s voice was filled with uncertainty, a quiet tremor of fear woven into every syllable. “It’s just— it’s weird. He’s my friend. I shouldn’t be thinking about him like that.”

Chan’s grip on his phone tightened slightly. He had heard this before—the fear, the self-doubt, the belief that something was inherently wrong simply because it didn’t fit into the mold society had shaped for them.

“Listen to me,” Chan said, keeping his voice calm but resolute. “There’s nothing wrong with how you feel. Liking someone—whether they’re a guy or a girl—doesn’t make you broken. It doesn’t make you disgusting.” He exhaled, trying to soften his words despite the frustration bubbling beneath his skin. “You’re scared because the world tells you that it’s something to be ashamed of. But it’s not. It never was.”

A shaky sigh came from the other end of the line. “But what if—”

“No ‘what ifs,’” Chan cut in gently. “You don’t have to have all the answers right now. Just let yourself feel. Don’t fight it just because you think you should.” A pause. Then, with quiet certainty, he added, “Look at me. I’m gay.”

The words left his lips effortlessly, like a truth he had long since made peace with. And then—the door to his room slammed open.

Chan flinched, his heart lurching as he snapped his head toward the doorway. Standing there, chest heaving, eyes burning with fury, was his father. For a moment, silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. Then, in a voice laced with barely restrained rage, Moonsik spoke.

“What the hell did you just say?”

Chan felt his stomach twist. His body went rigid, his fingers going numb around his phone. He barely registered his friend’s panicked voice calling his name from the other end of the line before he slowly lowered the device, ending the call without another word.

Moonsik took a step into the room, the door still hanging open behind him. His expression was unreadable beneath the anger, but Chan could see it—the sharp edge of disappointment, of disgust. “I asked you a question, Christopher.” His father’s voice was ice now, dangerously calm. “Did I just hear you say you’re gay?”

Chan swallowed, his throat dry. He had imagined this moment before—what it would be like if his parents ever found out. But he had always thought he’d have control over it, that he’d be able to say it on his own terms. Not like this. Not with his father barging into his space, anger radiating off of him in waves.

There was no point in denying it. So Chan forced himself to meet Moonsik’s eyes and, despite the way his hands trembled at his sides, he said, “Yes.”

The reaction was instant. 

Moonsik’s expression twisted into something ugly, something Chan had never seen before. “No.” He shook his head, his jaw clenched so tight it looked painful. “No, you are not.”

Chan’s breath hitched. His nails dug into his palms. “I am.”

Moonsik’s eyes burned into him, like he was trying to see through him, to find some crack in his resolve and break him apart. “You will not say that again.”

Chan’s chest tightened. “It’s the truth.”

Moonsik moved so fast that Chan barely had time to process it. The bedside lamp crashed to the floor with a shattering sound as his father’s fist slammed into the nightstand. “I said, you will not say that again!”

Chan flinched but didn’t look away. His heart pounded against his ribs, fear clawing its way up his throat, but he didn’t take it back.

Moonsik’s breaths were ragged, his hands curled into fists. The fury in his eyes wasn’t just anger—it was rejection. It was hatred. And that hurt more than anything. “You are not my son.” The words were cold, final. 

Chan felt something inside him crack. He didn’t know if it was his heart or something deeper, but it was enough to make his breath stutter. He had always known his parents wouldn’t accept it. But knowing it and experiencing it were two entirely different things.

Moonsik’s voice echoed in the room, heavily laced with anger, “I’ll ask you one last time, whatever I just heard was that the truth?”

“Yes.” The moment Chan’s quiet confirmation left his lips, his world shattered.

Moonsik didn’t just react—he exploded.

With a growl of rage, his father lunged forward, ripping the phone from his grasp so violently that Chan barely had time to register the loss before the device was hurtling through the air.

The crack of it hitting the wall echoed through the room, shattering into pieces upon impact. The sudden destruction sent a tremor through Chan’s body, but he barely had time to process it before Moonsik’s hands were on him.

Fingers twisted into his hair, yanking him forward with brutal force.

Chan gasped, his hands instinctively flying up to grip his father’s wrist, but he didn’t struggle—he knew it would only make it worse. The pain radiated from his scalp, burning, but it was nothing compared to the fury in his father’s voice.

“I’ll ask you one more time,” Moonsik spat, venom dripping from every word. “Are you gay?”

Chan’s chest constricted. The fear coiling inside him was suffocating, sinking its claws into every nerve in his body. Every instinct screamed at him to lie, to take it back, to do anything to make this stop.

But he couldn’t.

Because no matter how much it hurt, no matter how terrified he was, the truth wouldn’t change. Chan swallowed hard, his throat painfully dry. “Yes.”

The slap came so fast that Chan barely had time to react.

His head snapped to the side, pain stinging across his cheek. His vision blurred for a second, the sheer force of it making his ears ring. But he barely had time to recover before his father’s hand came down again.

Another slap.

And another.

Each one more violent than the last.

Each strike sent his world spinning, his body reeling from the impact. His vision blurred, his skin burning where Moonsik’s hand struck him again and again.

“You’re disgusting.” Another slap. “An embarrassment.” Another. “Do you have any idea what you’re saying? What people will think?”

Chan gasped, his breath shallow and uneven, his mind struggling to keep up with what was happening. His face throbbed, the taste of copper settling on his tongue where he had bitten the inside of his cheek.

He wanted to speak—to say something, anything—but Moonsik wasn’t done.

“You think this is a joke?” Moonsik spat, towering over him with unrelenting fury. “You think this is some phase? Some sickness? You think I will let my son disgrace this family like this?”

Chan barely registered the sound of the door opening.

His mother stood at the threshold, her face blank.

For a fleeting second, hope sparked in Chan’s chest. Maybe—just maybe—she would stop this. Maybe she would say something, do something. But she didn’t. She didn’t even flinch. She just watched. Watched as her husband raised his hand again. Watched as their son took another blow. Watched as Chan’s breath hitched in his throat, as his arms trembled at his sides.

Watched, and did nothing.

Chan didn’t know what hurt more—the hits or her silence.

Chan’s legs buckled, his body nearly giving out, but Moonsik’s grip remained firm. The older man yanked him up by the collar, forcing their gazes to meet. “You will not leave this room,” Moonsik growled, his voice laced with finality. “You will not go back to that university. You will not step outside this house until I say so. Do you understand me?”

Chan’s head swam. The words barely registered, his mind clouded by pain, humiliation, and something even worse—helplessness.

His father shoved him away like he was nothing.

Chan’s legs gave out. He collapsed to the floor, his knees colliding with broken shards of glass from the shattered lamp. The jagged edges bit into his skin, but the sting was distant, muted compared to the ache in his chest. He sucked in a sharp breath, trying—desperately—to find his voice. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking.

But Moonsik didn’t even look at him. Didn’t acknowledge him. Didn’t spare him a second glance as he turned and stormed out, leaving Chan alone in the suffocating silence.

The door slammed shut. A quiet, final click of the lock followed.

Chan’s body trembled, his vision swimming with tears. He curled in on himself, his fingers clenching against the cold floor, his breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. His skin stung, his limbs ached, his chest felt like it was caving in.

And as he sat there, hunched over and surrounded by shattered glass, he realized something. He had never felt this small before. Never felt this broken.

Never felt this trapped.

The weight of the past lingered in Chan’s chest, pressing down like a heavy stone. His fingers trembled slightly as he exhaled, trying to shake off the suffocating grip of the memory.

A quiet sound—barely a rustle—brought him back to the present.

Seungmin.

The prosecutor, who had been watching him intently, reached forward, placing a glass of water on the tray beside the hospital bed. His expression was unreadable, but his movements were deliberate, careful—not just as a prosecutor gathering testimony, but as someone who understood the weight of what had just been unearthed.

Chan swallowed and took the glass, his fingers curling tightly around it. He lifted it to his lips, taking slow, steady sips, letting the cool liquid ground him. The burn in his throat eased, but it did little to push away the storm brewing behind his ribs.

He blinked, his vision still blurred from the tears he refused to let fall. 

No. Not here. Not now.

Chan set the glass down, his fingers lightly tracing the rim before he pulled his hand away. He exhaled slowly, steadying himself. “I don’t blame him,” he murmured, his voice steadier than he expected. “My friend. For what happened that day. It wasn’t his fault.”

He had never once held resentment—not for the way that call had changed everything, not for the way his life had unraveled in an instant. The blame had always belonged elsewhere.

Finally, he looked up, meeting Seungmin’s gaze. The prosecutor’s expression was unreadable, his face carefully blank, giving nothing away. Whatever was going through his head, he wasn’t letting it show.

Seungmin gave a small nod, his expression unreadable as he switched off the voice recorder. The soft click echoed in the quiet room, sealing Chan’s words into something permanent—something that would now exist beyond just the two of them.

He stood up, adjusting the hem of his coat as he spoke. “Thank you for saying all this.” His voice was calm, professional, but there was an unmistakable weight to it. “I know it couldn’t have been easy for you.” He had told plenty of victims the same thing before, had reassured countless witnesses after grueling testimonies. But this—this was different.

Seungmin wasn’t just a prosecutor here.

And Chan wasn’t just another victim.

His gaze lingered on Chan for a second longer, taking in the exhaustion shadowing his features, the lingering pain in his expression. Seungmin wasn’t a stranger to difficult conversations, but this one left an unexpected heaviness in his chest. He adjusted his coat slightly before adding, “I hope you recover well and get back on your feet soon.” With a short, respectful bow, he turned to leave.

He had only taken a few steps when, “Seungmin-ah.” The quiet call of his name halted him mid-step. His body stiffened slightly, but he didn’t turn around.

“Seungmin-ah,” Chan said again, quieter this time. There was something fragile in his voice. Something careful. “Congratulations on your engagement.”

For a moment, there was only silence. Then, Seungmin’s fingers curled into fists at his sides. His throat tightened.

Of all the things Chan could have said, it was this.

He exhaled slowly, composing himself. “Thank you...” His voice was steady, but there was a slight pause before he spoke, a hesitation he hoped wasn’t noticeable.

Without another word, he walked out of the room, keeping his steps measured, his expression unreadable. But the weight in his chest didn’t fade.

Chapter Text

The night before a hearing, every prosecutor knows the drill—preparation, precision, and the ever-present weight of responsibility. Case files cover the desk, each page dissected for weaknesses, each argument sharpened like a blade.

Witness statements are reviewed again, their credibility assessed, their testimonies memorized. Courtroom strategies are revised, anticipating every move the defense might make. There’s a quiet tension in the air, a mixture of anticipation and pressure that tightens in their chest. The stakes are high; every word, every decision could shift the case’s trajectory.

Seungmin leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, eyes fixed on a report in front of him. Across him, Jeongin sat with his elbows resting on the desk, his sharp eyes scanning a set of case notes. Unlike Seungmin’s controlled exhaustion, Jeongin carried an air of quiet determination, his suit still neatly pressed despite the long hours spent pouring over legal strategies.

Jeongin exhaled sharply, breaking the silence. “Moonsik may pull something in court.” he said, his voice steady, but there was a cautious undertone beneath his words. “If there's one thing I've learned from cases like these, it's that men like him never enter a courtroom unprepared. He’ll try to manipulate the judges in his favor, paint himself as the victim in all of this.”

Seungmin tapped his fingers against the desk, his dark eyes narrowing. “That aligns with his behavior during interrogation. He outright denied every single claim against him—showed no remorse, no hesitation. But what stood out to me wasn’t just the denial.”

He picked up a page filled with detailed notes from Moonsik’s questioning. “It was his anger. The moment he realized how much evidence we have, he lost control. Which means he’s definitely planned something with his attorney.”

Jeongin let out a low hum, crossing his arms. “The problem is, we don’t know what angle they’ll take. But the possibility of framing Minho sunbae is high.” He let the thought hang, watching as Seungmin’s expression shifted.

Seungmin set the page down, his fingers threading together. “Agreed.” His voice was firm, measured. “Attorney Lee is already a target, whether he realizes it or not. If Moonsik wants to shift the blame away from himself and Bora, painting Attorney Lee as the manipulative, controlling factor in Chan’s life would be an easy move.”

“If he goes that route,” Jeongin continued, adjusting his glasses, “Bora will follow his lead. She may have seemed more subdued during questioning, but she won’t hesitate to side with her husband in court. She’s always been complicit in Chan’s suffering, whether by action or by silence. If Moonsik accuses sunbae of manipulating Chan, she’ll support that claim without blinking.”

Seungmin exhaled through his nose, his gaze shifting to the stack of affidavits and statements piled between them. “And if the defense argues coercion, claiming that Chan’s statement was influenced by Attorney Lee…”

“Then it becomes inadmissible evidence.” Jeongin finished the thought, his voice quiet but resolute.

The weight of those words settled between them.

Seungmin drummed his fingers against the desk. “Attorney Lee is protective of Chan, there's no denying that. But the defense could twist that into over-involvement, make it seem like his presence in Chan’s life was suffocating rather than supportive. If Moonsik’s attorney is even half as competent as I think they are, they’ll use this to their advantage.”

Jeongin scoffed, shaking his head. “It’s absurd, really. The man beats his son, drives him to the brink of death, and then has the audacity to act like the victim. And yet, we have to fight to prove that the actual victim is telling the truth.” There was no hiding the bitterness in his voice.

“It’s how the system works.”

Jeongin sighed, running his fingers along the edges of a document. “They’ll push sunbae as a suspect. That’s inevitable.” 

Seungmin leaned forward, the wood of the table creaking under the shift in weight. “I’ve reviewed attorney Lee’s past cases. He’s methodical, sharp, and calculated. If they try to frame him, he’ll have anticipated it. He knows how to counter their arguments, to redirect the narrative in his favor.”

Jeongin sighed, pushing his chair back slightly. “That’s true, but him being an attorney is also a double-edged sword. It’s going to be used against him.”

Seungmin’s brows furrowed slightly. “How so?”

Jeongin picked up one of the case files, flipping to a section marked in red. “Chan entrusted his diary to his boyfriend, who is an attorney—not to the police, not to the prosecution. That alone is enough to cast doubt. The defense can argue that sunbae, as a legal professional, knew exactly what to do to tilt the case in his favor. They’ll say that if Chan was truly independent in his decisions, he would’ve gone to someone neutral. They could claim he prepped Chan’s testimony to build a case against his parents.” He set the file down and met Seungmin’s gaze. “In court, perception is often more powerful than the truth.”

Seungmin exhaled slowly, absorbing Jeongin’s words. The logic was infuriatingly sound, and that was what made it dangerous. He had seen it before—cases where truth was bent, stretched, diluted into something unrecognizable, all because of how well an argument was framed, all because the opposing counsel planted the right questions in the jury’s minds. And this? This was the perfect weak spot for them to exploit. 

He could already hear how the defense would spin it—Minho wasn’t just Chan’s boyfriend, he was a trained and experienced attorney, someone who understood how to present evidence, how to shape a narrative. It wouldn’t matter that Chan had sought Minho out on his own. It wouldn’t matter that Minho had been his safe place, his anchor when no one else was listening. If the jury believed Minho had influenced him, even unconsciously, everything they had built could crack.

He remained silent for a moment, letting the thought settle. Then, finally, he spoke. “We have enough testimonies to back Attorney Lee in court. Chan’s words, Felix’s complaint, the medical reports—we have the truth on our side.” Even as he said it, the weight of the young attorney’s warning sat heavily on his chest. The truth wasn’t always enough. But it had to be.

His fingers tightened around the edge of the case file before he forced himself to relax. He straightened, adjusting his sleeves with slow precision, needing something to focus on. “And I have no doubt that Attorney Lee has been studying for this hearing.” That was their best shot—Minho’s preparation, his skill, his conviction. Because if the other side was playing perception, they needed to make sure their truth was louder, sharper, and undeniable.

Jeongin nodded, his expression settling into something calm and assured. “He has,” he said simply. “Sunbae knows exactly what he’s walking into. He’s prepared for every argument they’ll throw at him.” He leaned back slightly, running a hand through his hair. “They’ll try to twist the facts, but he won’t let them. He understands this case better than anyone.”

Seungmin let out a quiet sigh. His voice was steady, almost cold in its rationality. “Moonsik is going to try to lie his way out of this, but the difference this time is that he’s up against people who won’t let him get away with it.”

Jeongin nodded slowly, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Then we make sure there are no loose ends. We stay ahead of them.”

Silence settled between them, not of uncertainty, but of mutual understanding. The war would begin in court the next morning. And they were ready.

-

The courtroom was vast and imposing, its high ceilings and dark mahogany furnishings lending an air of solemnity to the proceedings. Rows of polished benches stretched toward the front, where the judge’s bench loomed—elevated, commanding, and a stark reminder of the weight of justice. The air was thick with tension, a mixture of anticipation and unease settling over those present.

At the prosecution table, Seungmin stood in his robes, his sharp gaze sweeping over the courtroom as he conferred in hushed tones with Jeongin, who sat behind him among the spectators. The prosecutor’s posture was rigid, his expression unreadable, though the firm set of his jaw betrayed the gravity of the case before him. Jeongin, dressed in a crisp suit, was equally focused, his keen eyes analyzing every movement across the room.

Behind Jeongin, Felix sat stiffly, his hands clenched together in his lap, fingers twisting unconsciously. His gaze flickered repeatedly toward the defense table, a mixture of unease and anger darkening his features. Next to him, Minho sat with a controlled, unreadable expression, his presence exuding a quiet strength. His sharp suit was impeccable, but there was something in the way his shoulders held a near-imperceptible tension—a lawyer prepared for battle. On Felix’s other side, Changbin sat with his arms crossed, jaw tight as he exuded quiet support for both his friend and his fiance. Beside him Felix’s father, maintained a dignified air, though the firm line of his mouth suggested barely contained disapproval toward the man seated at the defense table.

Seungmin followed Felix’s line of sight and found himself looking toward the defense table.

Moonsik sat there, his posture unnervingly relaxed for a man being accused of driving his own son to the brink of death. His well-tailored suit sat perfectly on him, the pristine fabric untouched by the weight of the allegations against him. His sharp, aged features betrayed no concern, only a quiet confidence that sent a chill down the prosecutor’s spine. Seated beside him, his attorney—Park Sanghoon—leaned in, speaking in hushed tones, his gaze sharp with calculation.

Just behind them, in the first row of the gallery, Bora sat quietly, her hands folded in her lap. She was dressed in muted tones, her expression unreadable as she observed the proceedings. Every so often, Moonsik’s gaze flickered in her direction before he returned his attention to Attorney Park’s words.

At the prosecution’s side, Felix exhaled sharply, his restlessness barely contained.

Minho, sensing it, leaned slightly toward him, his voice a low murmur. “It’s going to be alright.”

Felix turned to look at him, his expression strained. “You don’t know that.”

Minho met his gaze steadily. “Yes, I do.”

Felix hesitated, then gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

A sudden, crisp voice cut through the room. “All rise.”

The court fell into complete silence as the heavy wooden door in the front of the room opened and the judge entered.

A woman in her early fifties, Judge Han Seyeon carried an air of quiet authority. Dressed in her black judicial robes, she strode toward the bench with a measured grace, her gaze sweeping over the courtroom as if she could read the intentions of every person present. With decades of experience, she had seen every type of case pass through her court, from petty disputes to high-profile criminal trials. She took her seat, adjusting the papers before her with a precise efficiency.

The rest of the courtroom followed her lead, settling back into their seats.

Judge Han cleared her throat, her voice steady as she addressed the court. “This court is now in session. We are here to hear the case regarding the attempted suicide of Bang Christopher Chan, with charges of abetment brought against the defendants, Bang Moonsik and Ahn Bora.” She looked between the two opposing sides before nodding once. “Prosecution, you may begin.”

Seungmin rose from his seat, his prosecutor's robe falling into place with a practiced ease. His expression was composed, his hands steady as he stepped forward. He had spent hours refining his opening statement, making sure that each word carried weight, that each sentence left no room for doubt.

“Your Honor, esteemed members of the court,” he began, his voice steady, calculated, “we are gathered here today not just to examine the circumstances surrounding a young man’s tragic attempt to take his own life, but to seek justice for the suffering he endured at the hands of those meant to protect him.”

He took a measured step forward, scanning the courtroom. “Bang Christopher Chan did not attempt to end his life on a whim. His actions were not the result of mere personal distress. They were the result of sustained emotional and psychological abuse—a deliberate pattern of neglect, cruelty, and manipulation perpetuated by his own parents.”

His gaze flickered toward the defense table, where Moonsik sat stiffly beside his attorney. Moonsik’s hands were clasped together, knuckles white, but his expression remained impassive. Seungmin didn’t linger on him for long before continuing.

“The prosecution will present testimonies and evidence proving that Bang Moonsik and Ahn Bora systematically broke down their son’s will, that they used emotional coercion to isolate him, and that their actions directly contributed to his attempt to take his own life.”

He let the silence settle before nodding. “To begin, the prosecution calls Lee Felix Yongbok to the stand.”

A faint stir ran through the audience as Felix stood from his seat. His movements were stiff, his face carefully neutral, but the slight tremble in his hands betrayed him. As he made his way to the stand, Seungmin caught Minho’s gaze—a subtle flicker of reassurance exchanged between the two men before Felix reached his seat. His hands trembled slightly as he took the oath, raising his right hand.

“Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, under penalty of perjury?”

Felix swallowed and nodded. “I do.”

Judge Han motioned for him to sit, and he lowered himself onto the witness stand, his fingers tightening around the armrests as if anchoring himself. With a brief nod in his direction, Judge Han then turned to Seungmin. “You may proceed.”

Seungmin stepped closer, his voice even, measured. “Lee Yongbok-ssi, can you tell us about your relationship with the victim?”

Felix inhaled slowly. “Channie hyung is my cousin, but more than that, he’s my brother.” His voice was steady, but the slight tremor beneath it didn’t go unnoticed. 

“How long have you lived with the Bang family?”

“I moved in with his family during the last year of my high school. We’ve been living together for seven to eight years.”

Seungmin nodded. “And during this time, did you witness any instances of mistreatment towards Chan-ssi by his parents?”

Felix's hands curled into fists against his lap, his knuckles whitening. “Yes.”

A murmur rippled through the courtroom. Judge Han gave a sharp look toward the crowd, and the noise died instantly.

“Can you elaborate?” the prosecutor prompted.

Felix’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, his fingers flexing before he spoke. “The first time I truly understood what was happening was the night my uncle found out hyung was gay.”

Minho flinched, but his expression remained carefully composed.

Seungmin tilted his head slightly. “Go on.”

“It wasn’t like hyung came out willingly.” Felix's voice was steady at first, but as he spoke, a tremor crept in. “Uncle overheard him on the phone, talking to a friend. He barged into hyung’s room, grabbed his phone, and smashed it against the wall before he even had a chance to explain. Then he grabbed hyungie and demanded an answer.”

Felix swallowed, forcing himself to go on. “Hyung told the truth—he was gay. And uncle lost it. He slapped him. Once, twice—by the time his mother came into the room, his lip was already split. But she did nothing. She just stood there, watching, like it was something completely normal. And then he locked him in his room."

Silence crashed over the courtroom, heavy and suffocating. The judge's gavel remained untouched, but the weight of unspoken judgment pressed down on everyone present.

Minho’s entire body went rigid. His jaw clenched so tightly the muscle ticked, and his fingers dug into his knee, nails biting into flesh. He had known—of course, he had known about the abuse—but he hadn’t known this. Not the details. Not the way it had played out, moment by moment, blow by blow. His breathing had slowed, controlled, but the rage behind his eyes burned hotter than ever.

Across the room, Moonsik pressed his lips together, hands balled into fists on his lap. He blinked rapidly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he struggled to swallow past the lump in his throat. His knee bounced beneath the table, the only visible crack in his composure.

Seungmin let the moment settle before speaking again, his voice careful, measured. “You’re saying that Chan-ssi was confined?”

Felix exhaled shakily. He nodded. “Yes. He wasn’t allowed out. Not even for water. His parents went about their day like nothing had happened. Like he wasn’t suffering just a few feet away from them.” 

A gasp escaped from someone in the gallery. Another murmur ran through the room. Judge Han's expression darkened.

Attorney Park shifted in his seat before rising. “Objection—”

“Denied,” Judge Han cut him off. “Let the witness continue.”

Attorney Park hesitated before sinking back into his chair, irritation flashing across his features.

Seungmin turned back to Felix. “Was that the moment you realized the full extent of what was happening in the Bang household?”

Felix hesitated, then shook his head. “No,” he admitted. “That was the moment I understood how things worked in that house. But I didn’t know how deep it ran—not until a year later, after hyung’s birthday.”

Seungmin’s gaze sharpened. “Explain.”

Felix inhaled shakily. “Hyung and his mother had an argument that night. I was in his room, but I don’t think they knew I was awake. She was… was telling him things. Saying things. And when she finally left, I heard him crying.”

A lump formed in Felix’s throat, but he swallowed it down. “When I got up to check on him, I saw the first scars of self harm.”

The room was silent. Felix’s words sat heavy in the air, a weight that no one dared to disturb.

Minho, unable to hold it in any longer, let out a slow, quiet breath through his nose. He was staring at Felix, at his tightened jaw, at his shaking hands, and it took everything in him to suppress the rage simmering beneath his skin. He wanted to stand up. He wanted to do something.

Then, a small, hesitant hand closed over his own. Minho flinched, his breath hitching, and turned slightly to see Jeongin beside him. His hoobae’s grip was unsure at first, fingers trembling, but he didn’t pull away. He just held on, offering the only comfort he could. When Minho met his eyes, Jeongin’s gaze was determined—wide with emotion but steady, unwavering. We’ll make sure they don’t walk out free.

Seungmin’s voice remained steady as he spoke again. “In your personal opinion, would you say that Bang Moonsik and Ahn Bora’s actions directly contributed to Chan-ssi's psychological distress?”

Felix’s eyes darkened, his response immediate. “Yes, absolutely.”

Seungmin turned toward the judge. “Your Honor, I have no further questions for this witness at this time.”

Judge Han nodded and turned to the defense. “Attorney Park, do you wish to cross-examine?”

Park Sanghoon adjusted his tie before rising smoothly to his feet. His expression remained unreadable, but the sharp glint in his eyes told Seungmin he was already calculating his next move. “Yes, Your Honor,” he said evenly. “I do.”

Felix’s shoulders stiffened as the attorney approached the stand with slow, deliberate steps, each one measured, controlled—like a predator circling its prey.

Seungmin watched intently from the prosecutor’s table, his expression unreadable, but the way his fingers curled into a fist against the desk betrayed his displeasure. He knew what Sanghoon would attempt to do—turn Felix’s words against him, poke holes in his credibility.

Felix met Sanghoon’s eyes as the defense attorney finally spoke.

“Good morning, Lee-ssi.” Sanghoon’s voice was smooth, almost conversational. Too polite. Too friendly.

Felix hesitated, wary. “Good morning.”

“How have you been? Are you holding up well?”

Felix frowned slightly at the unexpected question. His lips parted before he finally responded, “I… I suppose so?”

Sanghoon gave a small hum of acknowledgment, shuffling through his papers. “That’s good to hear.” Then, without preamble, he straightened and asked, “Now, Lee-ssi, I’d like to confirm something for the record—you are the one who formally accused my client, Bang Moonsik-ssi, of abetment to suicide. Is that correct?”

Felix inhaled sharply, stealing a quick glance toward Seungmin. The prosecutor didn’t react outwardly, his eyes simply locked onto Felix as if silently telling him to answer honestly.

Felix turned back to Sanghoon. “Yes, I am.”

Sanghoon nodded as if he had expected that. “Right. Now, Lee-ssi, in your statement, you mentioned that you were aware of the alleged abuse for years. Please correct me if I’m wrong.”

Felix stiffened slightly. His fingers curled over his knees. “That’s… true.”

Sanghoon exhaled in mock understanding. “So, you knew. You knew what was happening in that household for years.”

Felix clenched his jaw, his stomach twisting at the way the attorney was framing it. “Yes.”

“Then tell me, Lee-ssi, if you knew, why didn’t you report it to the authorities sooner?”

Felix faltered. “I—” He swallowed hard. “I was scared.”

Sanghoon raised a brow, tilting his head slightly. “Scared? That’s it? That’s your reason for withholding crucial information that could have potentially helped Bang Chan-ssi years ago?”

Felix’s hands curled into fists on his lap. “I didn’t know what to do,” he admitted, voice quieter now. “And hyung… he—”

“Let’s focus on the facts, Lee-ssi.” Sanghoon cut him off smoothly. “Were you present the night Chan-ssi disclosed his sexuality to his parents?”

Felix exhaled through his nose, grounding himself. “No. I wasn’t there when it happened.”

“I see.” Sanghoon nodded. “So, you didn’t actually witness the incident firsthand?”

Felix hesitated but remained firm. “No. But Channie hyung told me everything afterward.”

Sanghoon let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head slightly. “I see. So, let me get this straight—you are accusing my client based on something you merely heard?”

Felix flinched slightly at the shift in tone. “No—hyung told me. There’s a difference.”

Sanghoon’s eyes sharpened. “A difference? Really? Then let me ask you, Lee-ssi, if you truly believed this was abuse, if you were convinced that your cousin was suffering, why didn’t you report it?”

Felix opened his mouth, but Sanghoon’s gaze bore into him like a predator watching its prey.

“You claim you were scared, but fear is not an excuse for negligence. Isn’t it convenient that you only decided to push the blame on his parents now—after the incident?”

Felix sucked in a sharp breath, his heart thudding painfully against his ribs. “That’s not—”

“Not what? Not convenient?” Sanghoon cut in smoothly. “You had years, Lee-ssi. Years to do something, but you didn’t. And now, suddenly, after your cousin’s unfortunate situation, you’re blaming his parents for doing what they thought was best for him.”

Felix’s eyes widened. “Best for him?” he repeated, incredulous.

Sanghoon spread his hands, ”Parenting isn’t easy. Sometimes tough love is necessary.”

A loud scoff broke through the tension.

Minho.

Felix turned slightly, noticing Minho’s fingers digging into his thighs, his jaw locked, his entire frame rigid with suppressed anger. 

Seungmin, meanwhile, remained still, his expression schooled into cold professionalism, though the sharp flicker in his eyes was enough to betray his irritation.

Felix swallowed the lump in his throat, returning his attention to Sanghoon. “That wasn’t tough love,” he bit out. “It was cruelty.”

Sanghoon sighed dramatically. “I see. And yet, you didn’t report it, did you?”

Felix hesitated before he said quietly, “No, I didn’t.”

Sanghoon smiled faintly, sensing blood in the water. “Why not?”

Felix pressed his lips together. “I wasn’t sure if that was the right thing to do. I didn’t want to put hyung in more trouble than he was already in.”

Sanghoon raised an eyebrow. “And yet, you had no problem filing a lawsuit when it suited you.”

Felix flinched. “That’s not fair—”

“Life isn’t fair, Lee-ssi.” Sanghoon’s voice was almost mocking. “What’s truly unfair is throwing around accusations when you, yourself, failed to act when it mattered.”

Felix inhaled sharply, a sharp retort at the tip of his tongue when Seungmin’s voice rang out, sharp and controlled. “Objection.”

Judge Han turned to him. “On what grounds, Prosecutor Kim?”

Seungmin’s gaze was steady. “The prosecution has submitted substantial evidence, including Bang Chan-ssi's personal diary, which explicitly supports the claims of coercion and abuse. Lee-ssi's testimony is not the only factor at play.”

Sanghoon’s jaw ticked, but before he could counter, Judge Han nodded.

“Sustained. Attorney Park, proceed carefully.”

Sanghoon exhaled sharply before giving a short nod. “Understood, Your Honor.”

He turned back to Felix. “Just one more thing, Lee-ssi. At any point, did your cousin explicitly tell you that he was unhappy? That his parents were being abusive?”

Felix blinked. The memories flashed in his mind—the nights he had seen Chan crying, the bruises he had never addressed, the weight of exhaustion in Chan’s voice.

But had Chan ever said it?

Had he ever used those words exactly?

Felix opened his mouth. “Well—no, but—”

“That will be all.” Sanghoon cut him off smoothly, turning back toward the defense table.

Felix's stomach dropped.

The courtroom was silent, save for the quiet scratching of pens against paper and the distant ticking of the clock.

Judge Han turned her attention to Felix, her tone firm yet neutral. “You may return to your seat, Lee-ssi.”

Felix swallowed hard and nodded. His legs felt heavy as he stood, his body rigid as he walked back toward his seat beside Minho.

The moment he sat down, Minho placed a hand on his knee, fingers tightening in silent reassurance, while his father wrapped an arm around his shoulder, silently saying that he did good.

Felix barely registered it. His mind was spinning, replaying every word, every trap Sanghoon had laid out for him.

And from the defense table, Moonsik finally looked up, locking eyes with Felix for the briefest of moments. And he smirked.

Chapter Text

Attorney Park Sanghoon adjusted the cuffs of his tailored suit, his expression unreadable as he moved forward with practiced confidence. His voice rang clear and steady across the silent courtroom.

“Your Honor, the defense calls Attorney Lee Minho to the stand.”

A ripple of movement spread across the courtroom. A few murmurs passed between the spectators, barely above a whisper. Seungmin’s expression remained unreadable, though his fingers tapped lightly against the table in anticipation. Behind him, Jeongin tensed, his gaze flickering toward Minho, who sat poised and unshaken.

Minho’s movements were deliberate—unhurried yet precise. His suit, perfectly fitted, barely creased as he straightened to his full height. Without hesitation, he stepped forward, his leather shoes clicking softly against the floor, his expression a mask of professional composure. He was no stranger to courtrooms, but today, he was not here as an advocate—he was here as a witness, his every word and gesture dissected under the watchful eyes of the judge, the prosecution, and the defense. This was not a man easily rattled.

From the defense table, Bang Moonsik’s gaze followed Minho’s movements with mild interest, his expression unreadable.

The court officer approached. “Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, under penalty of perjury?”

“I swear.” With a steady voice Minho took the oath. As he lowered himself onto the witness seat, he briefly adjusted his cuffs, fingers barely brushing against the silver cufflinks. A minor detail, but one that spoke volumes—Lee Minho was always in control. 

Sanghoon approached, a calculated smile in place, his polished shoes clicking against the wooden floor with each step. “Attorney Lee,” he began, voice smooth and even. “You are currently practicing law at Bae & Baek LLC, correct?”

Minho’s gaze remained level. “That is correct.”

“And for how long have you been in practice?”

“Five years.”

Sanghoon hummed thoughtfully, nodding. “Class of 2018, then.” He tilted his head slightly. “I was Class of ‘89.”

There was a deliberate pause, a subtle attempt to impose superiority. Minho recognized it immediately but remained impassive. His posture did not shift, nor did his expression betray even a flicker of reaction. He had sat across from attorneys like Sanghoon before—men who believed that experience alone could shake younger counterparts.

Sanghoon continued, his tone light, conversational. “Now, Attorney Lee, let’s discuss your relationship with Bang Christopher Chan.”

“Of course.”

“You were in a romantic relationship with him?”

“Yes.”

“For how long?”

Minho’s hands remained folded neatly in his lap, exuding an air of quiet authority. “I’ve known Chan for about ten years. We’ve been in a relationship for six.”

Sanghoon hummed again, tapping a finger against the podium. “That’s quite a long time.” Another deliberate pause. “That must mean you had a significant impact on him.”

Minho allowed the slightest arch of a brow. “I was his partner, not his puppeteer.”

A soft ripple of amusement passed through the courtroom. Even Seungmin smirked from his seat, shifting slightly as he watched the exchange unfold.

Sanghoon, however, remained composed, though a flicker of something unreadable passed through his eyes. “You have an impeccable track record, Attorney Lee.” He gestured slightly, as if summarizing a well-documented fact. “Not a single lost case. You have handled legal disputes, evidence management, and witness examination. That means, of all people, you must be well-versed in shaping narratives. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Minho’s lips barely twitched. “If you mean presenting facts in a structured manner, then yes. If you mean manipulation, then that would be your specialty, not mine.”

The smirk on Seungmin’s face widened. Even Jeongin, seated behind him, let out a quiet exhale.

A muscle in Sanghoon’s jaw ticked, but his voice remained controlled. “I can see why you haven’t lost a single case, Attorney Lee.”

Minho inclined his head slightly. “Thank you.”

Sanghoon’s eyes narrowed just slightly before he continued. “Let’s discuss facts, then. So tell me—how much of your narrative was shaped? Particularly when it comes to your relationship with Bang Chan-ssi?”

Minho’s demeanor remained unshaken. “If you’re implying my relationship with Chan was anything but genuine, you are mistaken.”

Sanghoon’s voice was almost silky. “Oh, I don’t doubt your feelings. But what I do question is your influence over him.”

Minho’s brow lifted slightly. “Influence?”

Sanghoon leaned forward slightly, adjusting his stance. “As an attorney—someone who understands how words, situations, and evidence can be framed—you must have had some sway over how Chan-ssi perceived his situation.”

Seungmin’s smirk faded, his fingers tightening against the table. He had anticipated this, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating to hear.

Minho, however, remained unreadable. “I never controlled Chan’s thoughts or decisions. He was fully aware of his own reality.”

Sanghoon’s expression remained neutral. “So you claim you had no part in influencing him against his parents?”

“I did not influence him. I supported him.”

Sanghoon tapped his fingers against the podium again, his gaze contemplative. “Tell me, Attorney Lee, did Chan-ssi ever explicitly tell you that his parents were abusive?”

Minho’s reply was immediate. “Yes.”

Sanghoon’s lips pressed together briefly before he nodded. “I see. And, as someone well-versed in legal proceedings, did you at any point advise Chan-ssi to document his experiences?”

Minho’s posture remained relaxed, his expression unwavering. “No. Chan did that on his own.”

Sanghoon let out a small exhale, tilting his head slightly. “You are an attorney, Attorney Lee. You are well aware of how vital written documentation is in cases like these. Are we supposed to believe that a person with no legal knowledge simply thought to keep a detailed diary of his alleged abuse?”

Minho’s fingers curled slightly, but his voice remained composed. “Are you suggesting I fabricated the evidence?”

Across the courtroom, Jeongin and Seungmin exchanged a glance. They had expected this, but hearing it still left a bitter taste in their mouths.

Sanghoon’s lips curled slightly. “I’m suggesting that you guided him. That perhaps his statements against his parents were not entirely his own but rather influenced by you—whether consciously or not.”

Minho’s gaze darkened slightly. “If that were true, then why would Chan’s accusations against his parents predate my involvement in his life?”

For the first time, Sanghoon faltered. It was brief—a barely perceptible flicker of hesitation—but Minho caught it.

He pressed on. “The diary entries detailing abuse predate my relationship with Chan. Medical records of his injuries existed before I was in his life.” His voice remained firm, unwavering. “I didn’t put those scars on his body. His parents did.”

Seungmin hid his satisfaction as murmurs rippled through the courtroom. Sanghoon parted his lips slightly as if to counter, but no words came immediately, instead he turned and walked back to the defense table. At the defense table, Moonsik’s fingers tightened on the edge, his face a mask of controlled fury.

The air in the courtroom felt heavy, an invisible tension stretching between the prosecution and the defense. Every eye followed as Sanghoon smoothed out the crisp edges of a document in his hand, his lips curling in a knowing smirk.

Then, with calculated precision, he spoke.

“Let’s move on.” His voice was deceptively casual, a stark contrast to the gravity of the case. He picked up another set of papers from the defense table, scanning them with a practiced air of authority. “Let’s talk about the lawsuit filed by Lee Felix-ssi.”

From his seat, Minho tilted his head slightly—just enough for it to be noticeable. A silent signal, one that clearly said: Go on.

Sanghoon, unfazed by the silent challenge, pressed forward. “This lawsuit, which accuses my client of abetment to suicide, is being handled by the very firm you work for—Bae & Baek LLC. More specifically, it is in the hands of Attorney Yang Jeongin, who, if I’m not mistaken, happens to be your junior associate.”

Minho’s expression remained neutral as he gave a slow, measured nod. “That is correct.”

A quiet chuckle escaped from Sanghoon, though there was no humor in it. He leaned forward slightly, placing his hands on the podium as he let out an almost theatrical sigh. “How convenient,” he mused, shaking his head in mock amusement. His eyes, however, were sharp as steel. “A lawsuit against the very people you despise, taken up by your own firm, handled by someone who answers to you—and you expect us to believe that you had no involvement?”

A ripple of murmurs spread across the courtroom at the pointed accusation. The implication was clear—Sanghoon was attempting to paint Minho as the mastermind behind the entire case.

Seungmin stiffened slightly at the prosecution table, his eyes narrowing as he tracked the subtle shift in energy. He had expected Sanghoon to go on the offensive, but he hadn’t expected him to lay it out so openly, with such an audacious accusation.

Yet, Minho didn’t flinch. His hands remained neatly folded on his lap, his expression composed, his voice steady and professional. “Attorney Yang is a fully licensed attorney with his own autonomy. He assessed the case based on its legal standing, not because I instructed him to.”

Sanghoon arched an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied with the response. “But if you had discouraged him, he might have listened, wouldn’t he?”

Minho did not blink. “Perhaps.” He allowed the word to linger in the air before continuing, “But I had no reason to discourage Attorney Yang from taking the case. Are you suggesting that attorneys should ignore cases with merit simply because of who is involved?”

A flicker of irritation crossed Sanghoon’s face before it was gone, replaced with a carefully crafted mask of skepticism. “So you admit you could have swayed the case?”

Minho’s lips twitched, but not in amusement. It was a controlled expression—one that hinted at the irritation he refused to show. “Lee Felix-ssi filed the suit on his own volition, and Bae & Baek took the case because the law supported it. Not because of me.”

From his seat at the prosecution’s table, Seungmin observed how Sanghoon’s fingers twitched ever so slightly—a telltale sign of frustration. The defense attorney was losing ground, but Sanghoon was a veteran. He wasn’t about to let it show.

Instead, he shifted tactics.

Sanghoon’s voice dipped lower, more deliberate. “Attorney Lee, you claim to have cared deeply for Bang Christopher Chan.”

Minho didn’t hesitate. “I still do.”

Sanghoon’s gaze sharpened. “Then why didn’t you save him?”

The question landed like a gunshot.

The air in the room thinned in an instant. The weight of the question crashed over the courtroom like a wave, suffocating in its intensity.

Seungmin’s spine went rigid, his muscles coiling with tension. He could see where this was going—Sanghoon was playing dirty now, cutting straight into Minho’s greatest wound. Across the table, Jeongin had gone unnervingly still, his hands clenched beneath the desk. Even the judge’s eyes flickered with a hint of disapproval at the brutal turn in questioning.

But the worst reaction came from Minho himself.

His jaw clenched, his fingers curling against the wooden surface of the stand. The muscles in his shoulders tensed, a fleeting crack in his composure. His usual calm was still there, but beneath it—beneath the controlled exterior—was something far more dangerous.

Anger. Rage, tightly leashed.

He straightened in his seat, and fixed his unwavering gaze onto Sanghoon. “I did everything in my power to help him.”

Sanghoon leaned forward slightly, eyes gleaming. “And yet,” he pressed, voice laced with cold calculation, “he still attempted suicide. Despite being with you—a person who claims to love him, who claimed to understand his pain—he still saw death as his only escape. What does that say about you?”

If looks could kill, Sanghoon would have been dead right there on the floor.

Minho’s grip on the witness stand tightened ever so slightly, but his face remained impassive. From the defense table, Moonsik leaned back in his chair, his lips curling into a smirk. His eyes held a sick satisfaction, as if he were savoring Minho’s silence, relishing the doubt being planted into the courtroom.

Sanghoon took the silence as an opening. He stepped closer, his voice slicing through the thick air. “So tell me, Attorney Lee—if you weren’t manipulating him, if you weren’t using him for some twisted legal battle against his parents, then why, despite all your ‘support ,’ did he try to take his own life?”

Minho remained silent, his body taut like a drawn bowstring. Seungmin felt his own patience snap—he was already shifting forward in his seat, prepared to object before this interrogation dug any deeper.

But then, Minho moved.

He lifted his gaze from the desk, slowly turning his eyes toward Moonsik. His stare burned with something raw and unyielding. Moonsik’s smirk faltered just a fraction.

Then Minho turned back to Sanghoon, his voice razor-sharp. “Because abuse doesn’t disappear the moment a victim finds love.”

The weight of his words struck the room like a physical blow.

Even Sanghoon faltered, his expression briefly unreadable.

Minho’s voice remained measured, but there was an unmistakable steel beneath it. “You are under the assumption that my presence alone should have undone years of trauma. That my love, my resources, my understanding of the law should have magically erased everything he suffered. But that is not how it works.”

He leaned forward slightly, his eyes dark and unrelenting. “Chan didn’t attempt suicide because I manipulated him. He did it because the people who were supposed to protect him— your clients —failed him long before I ever entered his life.”

A hush fell over the courtroom.

Minho exhaled slowly, regaining his perfect posture, his professionalism never wavering. “You are desperate to shift the blame onto me because the reality is damning. You cannot justify what they did, so you are trying to create a villain where there isn’t one.”

Sanghoon’s jaw tightened, his fingers curling against his notes. He knew. Everyone in the room knew—he had lost the battle of words.

A long silence stretched before Sanghoon inhaled sharply, straightened his tie, and, after a pause, muttered, “No further questions, Your Honor.”

Seungmin allowed himself the smallest breath of satisfaction. He had expected Minho to hold his ground, but watching him methodically dismantle Sanghoon’s argument had been something else entirely. It had been nothing short of masterful.

The judge turned to Seungmin. “Does the prosecution have any questions for Attorney Lee?”

Seungmin met Minho’s gaze, the unspoken understanding passing between them. The ball was back in their court. There was no need to push further—Minho had already delivered the final blow. He let the silence settle, then shook his head. “No questions, Your Honor.”

The judge gave a firm nod before turning to Minho. “You may return to your seat, Attorney Lee.”

Minho stood, buttoning his suit jacket with practiced ease. He gave Sanghoon one last unreadable glance before walking back to his seat—his every step exuding control.

Because in this round, he had already won.

Chapter Text

The courtroom had barely settled after Minho’s departure from the witness stand when Seungmin stood. His movements were calm, but purposeful, like a man who had been waiting for this precise moment. “The prosecution would like to call Bang Moonsik to the witness stand.”

A collective shift in the atmosphere followed. People straightened in their seats. Eyes turned toward the man at the defense table. Bang Moonsik, immaculately dressed in a navy suit and burgundy tie, stood with an air of quiet arrogance. He adjusted his cufflinks with deliberate poise before walking up to the stand, not as a man about to be questioned but as someone who believed he was above it.

As he raised his right hand and took the oath, his expression remained carefully neutral. But beneath the surface, Seungmin could see the calculation in his eyes. This was a man used to boardrooms, not courtrooms—but the power play was the same. Seungmin had studied men like him before. They believed the world operated by their rules.

“Please state your name and relation to the victim for the record,” Seungmin said, stepping closer to the podium.

“Bang Moonsik. I’m the biological father of Bang Christopher Chan,” he replied, voice deep and composed.

Seungmin nodded. “Bang-ssi, can you describe your relationship with your son?”

There was a brief pause—just long enough for the silence to stretch. Moonsik’s lips quirked slightly, not into a smile but something colder. Calculated. “Like any father, I provided for my child. I ensured he had the best education, the best environment to grow up in, and every opportunity a boy could ask for.”

His tone was calm, practiced. He might as well have been reciting a line from a glossy parenting manual he never read but kept on his shelf to impress visiting guests.

Seungmin’s brow furrowed, just slightly. It was subtle—but enough to signal that he wasn’t buying the curated image Moonsik was presenting. “So you would describe it as… a healthy relationship?”

Moonsik tilted his head as if pondering the semantics of the question, buying time behind the appearance of thoughtfulness. “I did what any parent would do to prepare their child for the world,” he answered at last.

Seungmin didn’t blink. “That wasn’t my question, Bang-ssi,” he said, voice still polite, but laced with unmistakable steel. “Would you describe your relationship with your son as healthy?”

There was a slight twitch in Moonsik’s jaw—barely visible, but Seungmin saw it. Everyone did. It was a tell, a crack in the performance. But like a veteran businessman, Moonsik recovered quickly, weaving control back into his posture. “There were disagreements,” he said, brushing invisible lint off his cuff. “Like any parent and child. But it was nothing unusual. So yes—we had a healthy relationship.”

From the gallery, Minho sat stone-still, his eyes narrowed dangerously. His knuckles were white where they pressed against his knee. Beside him, Jeongin had stopped writing entirely. His pen hovered, ink pooling into a small dot on the page. Neither moved, both silently watching Moonsik paint a lie with perfect composure.

Seungmin didn’t flinch. He adjusted his robe, flipping through the folder in his hand before selecting a document and lifting his gaze. 

“Disagreements,” the prosecutor echoed slowly, almost tasting the word. “Bang-ssi, are you aware of your son’s psychiatric evaluations from when he was fifteen?”

There it was. A slight flicker of surprise in Moonsik’s eyes. It passed quickly, like a shadow behind glass, but it was there. “Yes,” he said simply.

“These records,” Seungmin continued, holding them up for the judge and the courtroom to see, “indicate severe anxiety, recurring panic attacks, and symptoms consistent with PTSD. Were you aware of these conditions at the time?”

Moonsik didn’t break his composure. But his fingers drummed lightly—once—on the wood before stilling again. “He was going through a phase,” he said smoothly. “Teenagers are emotional. He was sensitive, easily overwhelmed.”

From the back of the courtroom, someone audibly scoffed. The bailiff silenced them with a sharp look, but the tension had already shifted. The courtroom knew—this was no normal teenage “phase.”

Seungmin’s tone lowered, now colder. Sharper. “And how did you decide to address this?”

Moonsik’s gaze hardened slightly. He adjusted in his seat. “We enrolled him in more rigorous activities,” he said coolly. “Discipline. Structure. He lacked mental resilience, so we made sure to build it.”

He said it the way CEOs talk about restructuring a failing branch. Detached. Strategic. Emotionless.

Seungmin’s lips thinned. He took a slow step forward, his eyes locked onto Moonsik like a hawk circling its prey.

“Discipline,” he echoed. “Would you care to elaborate on what that entailed?”

Moonsik didn’t hesitate. That was the dangerous part—how little shame he carried in recounting what should have been damning. “Tutors. Strict schedules. We removed distractions. Things that enabled weakness.” He tilted his chin upward slightly, an echo of pride glinting in his otherwise flat tone. “He needed to learn the value of control and obedience.”

The word hung in the air— obedience —and with it, the room seemed to constrict.

A loud snap! startled those in the gallery. Jeongin had broken his pen in half, ink seeping onto his hand unnoticed. The woman seated beside him flinched but said nothing. Jeongin didn’t apologize. His eyes were fixed on Moonsik, jaw locked, as if he were imagining the man on trial for real this time.

Even Judge Han shifted in her seat, brows furrowing with undisguised distaste. She made no comment, but her silence was telling.

Minho, seated beside his junior associate, had gone still in that deadly way people do when they are trying not to explode. His fingers dug into the armrest, his jaw clenched like a steel trap. Only his eyes moved—burning holes into Moonsik.

Seungmin inhaled slowly. His voice, when it came again, was low but clear. “Bang-ssi, your son was fifteen .” He let that number hang, a reminder of youth—of innocence that should have been protected, not broken. “He had been diagnosed with multiple mental health conditions. What he needed was care. Compassion. Therapy. Not bootcamp .”

The first crack appeared in Moonsik’s polished façade. “You weren’t there,” he snapped, emotion bleeding into his voice for the first time. Not vulnerability—offense. His ego stung. “You don’t know what it was like raising a boy like that. He had everything. He lacked nothing—except the will to make something of himself.”

There it was. The heart of it.

Minho’s eyes narrowed dangerously. It took every ounce of his restraint not to stand, not to scream. But he didn’t. He wouldn’t give Moonsik that satisfaction. Instead, his fury hardened into ice. Controlled. Deadly.

Seungmin’s next question sliced through the courtroom like a blade. “And what about the bruises?” he asked. “The medical records show injuries inconsistent with sports training. A visit to the emergency room at least once every four-five months. Who caused them?”

The courtroom collectively tensed. Even the court stenographer looked up from her keys for a fraction of a second.

Moonsik didn’t answer right away. A flicker of discomfort passed across his face—his first genuine hesitation. “He was clumsy,” he said finally, voice cool again.

Seungmin’s expression didn’t shift. “So all the times he showed up with bruised ribs, a sprained wrist, bruises on his back—those were all accidents?”

Moonsik remained silent.

“Answer the question, Bang-ssi.”

The room held its breath.

A long pause. “I was firm,” Moonsik said at last, tone clipped. “But I did what was necessary. For his future.”

There was a beat of absolute silence. “You abused him,” Seungmin said, voice flat and merciless.

Attorney Park was on his feet in an instant. “Objection, Your Honor—accusatory language.”

Judge Han didn’t even hesitate. “Overruled.”

Seungmin turned back to Moonsik. “Let me ask you again,” he said, eyes like flint. “You were aware of your son’s injuries. You were aware of his psychological diagnoses. You enforced ‘discipline’—in the form of physical punishments, emotional isolation, and stripping him of support. You call that parenting?”

Moonsik's mouth tightened. He was no longer quite as confident, but he doubled down anyway. “I disciplined my son,” he said, each word enunciated carefully, stubbornly.

Seungmin leaned in slightly, his voice quiet but biting. “Disciplined. Right. A parent’s tough love, yeah?”

Seungmin’s words lingered in the air like a blade suspended mid-fall.

Moonsik didn’t reply. He didn’t nod, didn’t shake his head. Just sat there on the witness stand, spine stiff, gaze fixed forward, lips drawn into a thin, unreadable line. His silence wasn’t confusion—it was a refusal. He refused to dignify the accusation. Refused to admit even for a second that he had done anything wrong.

Seungmin’s jaw ticked faintly, but he didn’t give Moonsik the satisfaction of reacting to his arrogance. Instead, with the cool professionalism of someone trained to dismantle lies layer by layer, he turned back to the prosecution table and picked up a fresh set of documents.

The tension in the courtroom didn’t ease—it simply shifted, like a predator circling its prey from a new angle.

Seungmin flipped to the first page with measured grace, then looked up again, voice calm but with a sharp edge. “Bang-ssi, let’s move on.”

Moonsik gave a small, tight nod, adjusting his cuffs as if dusting off the last exchange. But the gleam in his eyes was warier now.

“Were you aware of your son’s sexuality?” Seungmin asked bluntly.

There was no soft lead-in, no courteous phrasing. Just the question—direct, pointed.

Moonsik’s jaw tensed, and a flicker of something—discomfort? annoyance?—passed through his expression. He answered with a clipped, almost reluctant, “Yes.”

The prosecutor took a deliberate pause.

“And what was your first reaction when your son came out to you?”

That question hung in the air like a quiet bomb.

Moonsik didn’t look pleased to be revisiting the memory. He sat a little straighter, posture almost performative, like a man preparing to deliver a carefully rehearsed statement. “I was shocked,” he said at last. “Like any other parent would be. It wasn’t what I expected from my son.”

Seungmin didn’t interrupt. He let the words settle—let them echo across the silence like a whisper of judgment. Then, he nodded slowly. “Understandable,” he said, the agreement quiet, but lacking warmth. “Shock is a human reaction. Especially when societal norms and personal expectations are challenged.”

Moonsik blinked, slightly thrown off by the concession.

But Seungmin wasn’t done. “And how exactly did you come to know about your son’s sexuality?” he asked, voice still smooth.

That question hit differently.

Moonsik hesitated for a beat—just one—but to the trained eye, it was enough. The gallery may not have noticed, but Seungmin did. Minho did. Jeongin definitely did.

Then with a calm too carefully placed, he lied, “He came and spoke to me.”

His tone was almost proud. As if recalling an act of nobility on his part—listening to his son, accepting a truth.

Seungmin’s expression didn’t change. But something about his stillness now felt coiled, like a storm about to break. “So your son initiated the conversation?”

“Yes,” Moonsik affirmed with a brisk nod.

Seungmin hummed under his breath, almost as if digesting the answer. He didn’t look back at his file. He didn’t glance at the judge. His eyes stayed locked on Moonsik. “Are you sure that’s how it happened?”

Moonsik blinked once. Twice. His smile was faint but smug. “That is what happened.”

In the gallery, Minho leaned forward slightly, lips pressed into a bloodless line. His fingers tapped once on his knee—rhythmic, restrained. He knew what was coming. He knew this strategy.

So did Jeongin, who sat rigidly upright, already flipping to a tab in his own folder. His brows were drawn together tightly in that way that said, here it comes.

Seungmin tilted his head just slightly, then asked again—so quietly that only the silence in the courtroom made it loud. “So, to confirm on record, Bang-ssi—your son, Bang Chan, approached you personally to come out. He told you himself?”

Moonsik didn’t flinch. “Yes.”

Another pause.

Then—

“Let the record reflect that Bang Moonsik has stated under oath that his son voluntarily disclosed his sexuality to him in a private conversation.” Seungmin's words, cool and deliberate, dropped into the courtroom like a stone into a still lake. The ripples of tension they created were palpable—whispers buzzing faintly at the edges, people shifting in their seats, the faint squeak of leather shoes scraping the polished floor.

Seungmin let the moment breathe, allowing everyone to sit with the gravity of what had just been established. Then, with a calmness that bordered on chilling, he turned toward the bench where the judge presided. In one smooth motion, he offered the thick folder Jeongin and him had prepared, glancing only briefly at the attorney, who gave him a near-imperceptible nod of encouragement.

“Your Honor,” Seungmin said, his voice steady, “I would now like to enter into evidence Exhibit 34C—”

He paused just enough for the weight of the moment to settle on everyone’s shoulders. “—a recorded statement and journal entry written by the victim, Bang Chan. It includes a detailed recounting of the day his father discovered his sexuality—not through a conversation—but by overhearing a private phone call, without consent.”

The courtroom reacted instantly. Murmurs broke out across the gallery—sharp intakes of breath, the rustling of papers, even a soft, stunned gasp from someone near the back. The bailiff immediately called for order, but the ripple of shock had already traveled across the room like wildfire.

At the defense table, Attorney Park stiffened, quickly leaning toward Moonsik to whisper something, but Moonsik wasn’t listening. He was staring straight ahead, his face finally—finally—showing cracks. The practiced poise he wore like armor faltered. His mouth opened slightly, jaw tightening as if grinding down unspoken rage or panic.

Minho, seated behind the prosecution, leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees, gaze dark and unblinking.

Seungmin didn’t move. Didn’t look away.

He advanced toward the witness stand with a slow, measured pace, each step a deliberate pressure bearing down on the brittle shell of Moonsik’s composure.

“Bang-ssi,” Seungmin said quietly, but the quiet carried a sharpness that could have sliced through steel, “your son didn’t come out to you.”

He paused just long enough for the words to hit. “You found out—and not through love, not through conversation, but through invasion.”

His voice dropped even lower, intimate and merciless. “You violated his privacy.”

Moonsik's lips pressed into a harsh line, his eyes hardening—but the corner of his left eye twitched involuntarily.

The prosecutor leaned just slightly closer, the courtroom utterly silent, hanging onto every syllable. “And when you learned the truth,” he continued, his voice a thread of ice wrapped in velvet, “you punished him for it.”

There it was. The truth laid bare. No courtroom decorum, no polished lies—just the brutal, unvarnished reality bleeding into the open.

Moonsik's eyes narrowed to slits, and for the first time in the entire trial, his voice cracked with something raw when he snapped, “I did what any parent would’ve done in that situation!” His words were laced with anger, not remorse. As if he genuinely believed he was the victim here.

Seungmin didn’t even blink. “No,” he said, cutting through Moonsik’s indignation with the precision of a scalpel. “You did what you would have done.”

Moonsik froze. His mouth opened slightly, as if he meant to argue. But no sound came. For all his poise and arrogance, he hadn’t prepared for this—not for Chan’s own words, not for evidence pulled from the heart of his son’s trauma.

The courtroom was still. Every pair of eyes—judge, spectators—locked on him. Watching a man unravel.

And Seungmin? The young prosecutor stood tall, steady, unshaken. His youth, his clean-cut image, all faded into the background now. What remained was something far more dangerous: a man who knew the truth and knew how to wield it.

Finally, Judge Han cleared her throat, attempting to steady the thick, charged atmosphere. “Is the recording available for the court to review?”

Seungmin gave a small nod. “It is, Your Honor. The audio has been verified and timestamped by our forensic team. The file contains Bang Chan-ssi’s voice, recorded during his official statement to the prosecution after he regained consciousness. With your permission, I’d like to play the excerpt relevant to this testimony.”

Judge Han gave a brisk nod, gesturing toward the evidence screen. “Proceed.”

The bailiff moved to set up the equipment, the soft click and whirr of the player filling the silence like a ticking clock. The gallery shifted, some leaning forward slightly, others pressing hands over their mouths, already bracing for the storm that was about to break.

Seungmin returned to his table but didn’t sit. He remained standing, arms loosely crossed, gaze never leaving Moonsik—watching him closely, studying every twitch of his fingers, every tick of his jaw, every shallow breath that betrayed the panic he could no longer suppress.

Bang Moonsik wasn’t in control anymore.

And as the first static crackle of Bang Chan’s voice echoed softly through the courtroom, raw and unfiltered—it was clear to everyone watching: The truth was no longer something he could outrun.

Chapter Text

The courtroom was deathly still as the recording started.

A soft crackle of static first—then, as clear as if he were sitting there himself, Chan’s voice filled the room.

He sounded calm at first, detached almost, like he had told the story too many times in his head to feel the full weight of it anymore. But the slight tremble beneath his words gave him away.

“I was in my room... on a call with my friend,” Chan’s voice said, almost hesitantly. “He was scared. Confused. He was telling me he thought he was... he was falling for another guy. I remember laughing a little and telling him it wasn’t something to be afraid of. That... that I understood.”

A small, almost apologetic laugh escaped in the recording. It was so soft it barely reached the corners of the room. But Minho heard it. And it felt like a blade carving him from the inside.

“I didn’t know my father was near my door. I didn’t know he was listening.” Chan’s voice continued, smaller now. “The moment he heard me say... that I liked boys too... he stormed in.”

A horrified murmur rippled through the gallery, quickly silenced by the sharp, warning look from the bailiff. 

On the stand, Bang Moonsik’s face remained frozen, but the tension in his jaw and the death-grip on the edges of his chair betrayed him.

“He grabbed my phone and threw it against the wall. It shattered. I didn’t even get to explain. He just kept asking—shouting—‘Is it true? Is it true?!’ I said yes. And he slapped me.”

The sound of Chan’s quiet, factual delivery made the word slapped feel heavier than any scream could have. 

Chan’s voice cracked slightly in the next part, “He kept asking if I was gay. Over and over. And every time I answered, he hit me again. It was like... like he couldn’t believe it, like he was trying to beat it out of me."

Someone in the courtroom inhaled sharply, the sound loud in the otherwise oppressive silence. A woman near the back pressed a trembling hand to her mouth. 

Minho’s entire body was drawn tight like a bowstring. His eyes, already glossy, didn’t blink. He sat there breathing shallowly, as if the smallest sound from him might shatter his boyfriend’s voice playing in the air.

Chan’s voice continued, “My mom was there too. She entered when the noise increased or maybe when something crashed on the floor. I hoped she would step in but she just stood there. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t stop him. She just watched.”

The quiet devastation in those simple sentences was harder to bear than any graphic detail.

Even Judge Han, who had remained composed throughout the trial so far, exhaled quietly, her hands folding more tightly on the bench in front of her.

And then Chan's voice lowered further, trembling, “After that... he didn’t let me go back to university, instead shifted me mid-semester to another university. He locked me in my room. Took away my phone. No food. No water. Just locked me up for days.” 

Chan’s voice broke entirely at the last word. The sound of it—raw, broken—rippled through the courtroom like a physical force.

And then, mercifully, the recording clicked off.

But the silence that followed was almost worse. It wasn't empty. It was dense. Heavy with grief, with outrage, with shame.

Across the room, Felix was openly crying, his father had wrapped his arms around his son. Changbin muttered a curse under his breath, his eyes fixed in a hard glare on realizing the reason behind their sudden broken friendship.

Moonsik sat at the witness stand, stiff and frozen, his face pale as death. His lips were pressed together so tightly they looked bloodless. The mask of the respectable father was shattered now. There was no salvaging it. No repairing it.

Seungmin didn’t immediately speak. He let the weight of the recording hang, let it dig into every person present. He wanted them to feel it. And when he finally moved, stepping forward, his voice was calm—too calm.

“Bang-ssi,” the prosecutor said, each syllable crisp and unrelenting, “what would you like to say about this recording?”

Moonsik opened his mouth—and then closed it again. His throat worked visibly, like he was trying to swallow back the truth. Or the guilt. Or both. He darted a look at Attorney Park, who gave the smallest of nods, signaling him to answer carefully.

Moonsik's hands gripped the edges of the table so hard that his knuckles blanched white.

When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse. “He was confused,” he said, “He was... acting out . I had to correct him.”

A collective murmur of disgust rippled through the room.

Minho’s hands trembled, but he gripped his knees to keep himself grounded. He wanted nothing more than to launch himself at Moonsik—to make him feel even a fraction of the pain he had inflicted—but he forced himself to stay seated. For Chan.

Seungmin’s face betrayed no anger. No disgust, only icy, professional disdain. “Correction?” he repeated, voice razor-sharp. “By physical assault? By imprisonment? By starvation?”

Moonsik flinched but didn’t answer.

Seungmin stepped closer still, standing now barely a few feet from the witness stand. “Bang-ssi,” he said, voice dropping lower, heavier, “you didn’t ‘correct’ him. You abused him. You broke him. And then you punished him for being broken.”

The gallery sat stunned.

Judge Han finally cleared her throat again, her expression stony. “The court will disregard any emotional reaction and focus solely on the evidence presented.” She paused, tapping her pen once against her notes. “Let the record reflect that Exhibit 34C has been formally entered into evidence.”

Seungmin bowed his head formally before straightening. Then, slow and deliberate, he turned back to Moonsik, who now looked less like a proud patriarch and more like a cornered predator, the walls closing in around him.

Stepping back to the center of the courtroom, Seungmin let the silence stretch, sharpening the weight of what had just been played. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm—too calm.

“Bang-ssi” he began, his tone almost clinical, “are you aware that, according to psychological studies, parental rejection based on a child's sexual orientation significantly increases the risk of depression, suicide attempts, and substance abuse?”

Moonsik faltered for a fraction of a second before quickly masking it. “I acted based on what I believed at the time.”

“Believed?” Seungmin tilted his head, voice laced with a quiet, deadly incredulity. “You believed that beating your son and imprisoning him without food or water would correct his sexuality?”

Gasps scattered through the gallery, sharp and immediate.

Judge Han didn’t bang her gavel; she didn’t need to. She pinned Seungmin with a hard stare—a silent, pointed caution to tread carefully.

Seungmin adjusted his stance, letting the moment breathe before pressing forward. “Did you at any point seek professional help for your son?” he asked, his tone cooler now, almost detached.

Moonsik’s jaw clenched. “He didn’t need psychiatrists filling his head with nonsense.” The words slipped out too quickly, too raw, and the damage was immediate.

Seungmin’s voice sharpened like a blade. “You considered therapy nonsense. But violence?” He let the word hang in the air, poisonous and damning. “Violence was acceptable to you.”

Moonsik straightened in his seat, trying desperately to cling to whatever dignity he had left. “I was trying to teach him discipline. Values. Morals.”

A sharp exhale slipped from Seungmin’s nose—too soft for anyone but the closest to hear, yet packed with fury. He wasn’t finished. He stepped closer to the stand, voice dropping into something colder, more lethal. “Bang-ssi. Do you love your son?”

The question cut through the room like a blade.

Moonsik blinked, thrown off balance by the sudden shift. “Of course I do.” But the words cracked on their way out, a fracture running through the polished image he had tried so hard to maintain.

Seungmin's voice was a scalpel now, precise and merciless. “You love him,” he repeated, “but you beat him. You love him, but you locked him away like an animal. You love him, but you stood silent while he starved, while he broke.”

Each word landed heavier than a shout, hammering the final nails into the coffin.

Moonsik opened his mouth—then closed it again, no words coming out. No amount of rehearsed answers could undo what had been laid bare under the unforgiving lights of the courtroom.

The room felt like a pressure cooker about to blow, thick with silent judgment.

Seungmin took a step back, letting the silence drown Moonsik more effectively than any further questioning ever could. Then, after a beat, he said, steady and final, “No further questions, Your Honor.” Without a glance backward, Seungmin turned on his heel, his shoulders stiff, his face an unreadable mask.

Judge Han gave a curt nod, her mouth set in a grim line. “Witness may step down.”

For a moment, Moonsik didn’t move, frozen in place. Then, stiffly, he rose from the stand—less a man leaving with dignity, and more a criminal awaiting his sentence.

The heavy silence left in the wake of Moonsik’s examination hadn’t yet dissipated when Seungmin stepped forward again, his expression carved from ice.

“The prosecution calls Ahn Bora to the stand.”

A ripple of movement ran through the courtroom as heads turned toward the woman rising unsteadily from the front bench of the gallery.

Ahn Bora was striking, still beautiful in a way that lingered, but time and sorrow had etched themselves into her features. There was a hollowness around her eyes, a weary fragility that no amount of careful makeup or perfect posture could hide.

Her hands trembled as she made her way to the stand, the faint, uneven clicks of her heels barely audible compared to the confident, purposeful strides of the attorneys.

From his seat beside Attorney Park, Moonsik watched her with a blank, unreadable expression. Park leaned in, murmuring something under his breath, but Moonsik didn’t react—didn’t even seem to hear him.

At the stand, Bora raised her right hand, her voice unsteady as she repeated the oath. When she lowered it, she kept her gaze fixed on some invisible point ahead—never once looking at the prosecutor, never once glancing at the man she had once called husband.

It was the posture of someone who knew she could no longer pretend her silence hadn’t been a choice.

Seungmin didn’t waste a second.

He rose with quiet, deliberate movements, a folder tucked neatly beneath one arm as he approached the witness stand with a methodical, almost clinical calm.

When he stopped a few feet from Bora, the silence in the courtroom felt suffocating—thick with all the words that had been left unsaid for years. 

His voice sliced through the stillness, sharp and precise, “Ahn-ssi.”

Bora flinched slightly, the smallest twitch of her shoulders. “Yes?” she answered, so quietly that it barely qualified as a whisper.

Seungmin didn’t give her room to retreat into herself. His next words were a scalpel, clean and brutal, “On the day your husband assaulted your son, why didn’t you intervene?”

The question hit the room like a grenade.

For a moment, everything seemed to freeze. Even the low hum of the courthouse air conditioning sounded deafening against the heavy silence.

Bora’s hands twisted together in her lap, knuckles whitening from the force. Her eyes, dark and clouded with something between shame, guilt, and terror, flickered instinctively toward the defense table—toward Moonsik, who sat rigid, his jaw clenched, his glower fixed on her like a noose tightening.

It wasn’t a glance of love.

It wasn’t a glance of loyalty.

It was fear. Bone-deep, conditioned fear.

Seungmin saw it immediately. He registered the way her shoulders curled inward, the way her breath hitched, the way survival had been hardwired into her reactions. But he didn't let up.

“Ahn-ssi,” the prosecutor said again, his voice quieter this time—softer, almost—but no less merciless. “I'll ask you again: why didn’t you step in to protect your son every time your husband assaulted him?”

The weight of the question seemed to crush her where she sat, but Seungmin remained still, giving her nowhere to hide.

Bora’s mouth opened—but no words came out. Her lower lip trembled, the composure she had clung to for so long slipping through her fingers like water.

The pressure was unbearable. It bore down on her from every direction—the courtroom's expectant stares, the silent condemnation radiating from the judge's bench, and the almost tangible disgust from her son's friends sitting in the gallery. She could feel it like a physical force, squeezing the air from her lungs.

Internally, Bora felt the last of her carefully constructed walls crumble. The lies, the justifications, the fragile hope that it could somehow be contained—it all disintegrated under the crushing weight of the truth.

They had already lost.

This wasn’t a trial that could be spun with careful half-truths or bought with whispered promises behind closed doors.

No matter how skillfully Sunghoon danced around the edges, no matter how stubbornly Moonsik clung to his delusions, it didn’t matter anymore. The truth had been unleashed—raw, bleeding, irreversible—and it was swallowing them whole.

There would be no saving Moonsik.

There would be no saving herself.

Not from this.

For the first time in years, Bora realized that silence had been her shield—but it had also been her chain. And now both were shattered beyond repair.

Finally, in a voice that cracked under the strain, she whispered, “…I was scared.”

Seungmin tilted his head slightly, his gaze sharp and unwavering as he watched her closely.

“Scared?” he repeated, his tone deliberately soft, almost coaxing, though the words themselves cut like a knife. “Scared of what, Ahn-ssi?”

Bora’s throat worked as though the words themselves were too heavy to get out. Her eyes shimmered with the threat of tears, but she blinked rapidly, her lashes fluttering with the effort to keep them in check. “Of him.”

The simple, raw confession reverberated in the air, cutting through the courtroom like a jagged shard of truth. It hit harder than any elaborate speech or excuse ever could.

A shudder ran through the gallery—a collective intake of breath. The atmosphere grew thick with shock, and the people closest to her seemed to tighten, as if bracing against a blow. Somewhere in the gallery, a woman clutched her handbag tighter, as if holding on to something—anything—to steady herself.

Seungmin nodded once, as if he had already anticipated this moment, but there was a gravity in his expression. “You were scared of your husband.”

“…Yes.”

“Scared he might hurt you if you intervened.”

Bora gave the slightest nod.

It was enough.

Seungmin paused for a moment, his eyes flicking down to the folder in his hand, a brief moment of stillness before he lifted his gaze back to her. The courtroom seemed to hold its breath, awaiting his next move.

“Did you ever seek help, Ahn-ssi?” His voice was quiet, almost gentle, but the weight behind it was undeniable. “For yourself? For your son?”

A long silence followed. Bora’s hands fidgeted nervously, twisting tighter in her lap as her throat tightened. She swallowed thickly, but the words still felt like they were caught in her chest.

“No,” she whispered, the answer barely escaping her lips.

Seungmin’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes narrowed slightly. “Why not?”

Bora hesitated, her mind racing, desperately trying to find the words that would justify the unbearable weight of her silence. The truth clawed at her throat, threatening to break free, but she fought against it, her voice trembling when it finally came out.

“Because…” She swallowed again, her face flushing with shame. “…because he said if we ever spoke about what happened inside our home, it would be the end of us.”

The gallery was utterly still, the air thick with tension. You could hear the faintest shifts in fabric, the soft rustle of clothing as people shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

The judge leaned forward slightly, her face unreadable but sharp with focus, eyes never leaving Bora.

Seungmin’s tone softened, but only in a way that suggested he understood the dangerous unraveling of something much bigger. “So you stayed silent. You watched your son suffer. You watched him starve. You watched him break—and you said nothing.”

Each word fell like a blow, measured and merciless. Bora winced, visibly shrinking with each accusation.

Her hands trembled, her fingers barely gripping the edge of the chair now, as she tried to steady herself. When she finally spoke again, her voice cracked, barely audible:

“…I thought it was the only way to protect us.”

Seungmin’s brows lifted faintly, his voice unyielding. “Protect?” He leaned in slightly, challenging the lie wrapped in her words. “Did you protect him, Ahn-ssi?”

The silence that followed seemed to stretch on forever, heavy and damning. Bora’s chest tightened, her heart pounding in her throat. A sob caught in her throat—raw, desperate—and she shook her head in a small, desperate motion.

“No.” The word broke from her lips like a confession. “No, I didn’t.”

Seungmin’s face remained cold, unreadable, but his jaw tightened. He slowly closed the folder in his hands, the soft thud a final punctuation mark on the exchange.

He straightened, his back rigid as he stepped away from the stand, his gaze never leaving Bora. The weight of what had just been laid bare hung in the air, suffocating.

Chapter Text

The tension in the room was thick—Bora’s vulnerability, her failure to protect her son, had been exposed. But Seungmin wasn’t done. His voice cut through the quiet like a blade, his next words deliberate, slow, and pointed. 

“Ahn-ssi…” He took a breath, watching her closely. “…I must ask you the same question I asked you during the interrogation…”

Bora’s eyes fluttered as she braced herself, the memories of the dark interrogation room flooding back, the force of Seungmin’s questioning still echoing in her mind.

“At any point in time, did you tell your son to kill himself?”

The question hung in the air, a sharp edge cutting through the fragile silence. Bora stiffened, her face draining of color as she fought to suppress the wave of panic rising in her chest.

Her lips parted, but no words came.

Seungmin’s unrelenting gaze bore into her as he waited, the courtroom around them holding its breath, the truth yet again demanding to be faced.

Bora’s breath hitched in her chest, her lips trembling, as if the weight of her own confession had become too much to bear.

For a long moment, she couldn’t respond. Her chest heaved as she fought to control the tremor in her voice, but it was clear that the walls she had so carefully built around herself were beginning to crumble.

Then, the words slipped out, broken and suffocating. “Yes.”

The single word shattered the fragile silence, a deafening statement that reverberated through the room. A collective intake of breath from the gallery. Eyes widened, mouths parted in shock, disbelief, and horror.

Bora’s shoulders slumped, the elegant posture she’d carried with her until now unraveling. She no longer looked like the composed, controlled woman who had entered the courtroom that morning. Instead, she appeared fragile, vulnerable—utterly broken.

Her hands rose to her face, and she collapsed inward, the tears she’d been holding back spilling freely now, her voice barely audible between broken sobs.

“I… I didn’t mean it, I just—” She cut herself off, her chest heaving with each painful breath. “I was so tired of it all. The fights... the constant blaming from him—Moonsik. It was always me. Always me. I was the one who had to fix things. Fix Chan, fix everything. But nothing worked, and… and I couldn’t take it anymore.”

Seungmin’s gaze never wavered from her, his eyes cold, his posture as steady and unyielding as ever. Yet, there was a subtle shift in his expression, the sharpness in his gaze intensifying as the weight of her admission settled over the room like a thunderclap.

Bora’s voice quivered as she continued, each word another shard of regret piercing her fragile facade. “I was tired. Tired of the pressure, of the fights. Moonsik kept saying it was my fault Chan wasn’t doing well. That I hadn’t raised him right. I couldn’t bear it anymore. And… and I said it. I said it in a moment of weakness.”

Her voice dropped to a mere whisper, barely audible in the heavy silence. “I told him to just end it. To stop the fight. I thought he’d just go away. I didn’t think he would actually…” Her words trailed off, the implication hanging heavily in the air, suffocating. The silence in the room deepened, thick with the weight of her confession.

From the gallery, there was a barely contained murmur of shock—Minho’s jaws clenched so tightly it seemed to tremble, his fists curled in his lap. Changbin, sitting next to him, looked like he might physically collapse under the pressure, his face pale as he kept his eyes firmly fixed on the floor.

At the defense table, Attorney Park remained motionless, his gaze flicking between Bora and Seungmin, his jaw tight in what could have been a mix of frustration and disbelief. Moonsik, however, had gone rigid, his face a mask of anger and something far more dangerous—a deep, simmering resentment that could barely be contained.

Seungmin’s eyes remained fixed on Bora, his expression now hard as stone, his stance unwavering as the broken woman before him continued to unravel. His voice cut through the air, colder than before, each word sharp and deliberate as he leaned in closer.

“You told your son to kill himself?” he repeated, his gaze unwavering, pinning Bora where she sat. “Did you ever apologize, Ahn-ssi? Did you ever try to take back what you said?”

Bora’s body trembled, her eyes downcast as the weight of her confession continued to crush her. She shook her head, her voice barely a whisper, almost too quiet to catch. “No.”

The courtroom held its breath, the silence oppressive. The prosecutor took a deliberate step forward, his expression unyielding, his tone now cutting deeper with each word. “And after that—after you told your son to end his life—did you notice any change in him? Did you even care?”

Bora’s eyes flickered up, her face contorted in raw agony. Her body shook as she processed the question, the room heavy with the weight of what she was about to admit. Her tears fell freely now, the shame and guilt that had long simmered inside her pouring out in waves.

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I saw him withdraw even more. He stopped coming to me, stopped talking to me. I thought he was just… angry. But now…” Her voice faltered, the words breaking apart before they could form the full picture. “Now I know…”

Seungmin’s gaze never wavered, his eyes like ice as he absorbed her confession. Without a word, he turned toward the gallery, addressing the court directly, his tone coldly methodical.

“After what Ahn Bora-ssi just confessed,” he began, his gaze unwavering as he addressed the court, “I would like bring to light the fact that Chan-ssi did try to end his life—his first suicide attempt was two years ago, shortly after those words were said to him.” He let that sink in, his voice steady as he delivered the weight of the truth.

A brief, tense silence followed before Seungmin pressed on.

“But fortunately, a friend—someone who wasn’t even in the city at the time—cared enough to reach out. They saved his life. That call was the difference between life and death.”

In the gallery, Minho bent forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his mind reeling. The memory of that call—the pain in the voice on the other end, the panic that gripped him as he tried to get to Chan—raced through his thoughts. His heart pounded, and for a split second, he could still hear it in his mind, the desperate sound of Chan’s voice trembling, just before the call ended.

He felt a hand gently rubbing his back, and when he looked over, it was Felix’s father, offering quiet, wordless support. Minho swallowed hard, forcing himself to stay present, to focus on the courtroom as the gravity of Seungmin’s words continued to unfold.

Seungmin wasn’t done yet. He straightened, his expression harder, the unrelenting tone of his voice continuing to drive the narrative forward.

“Two years after that day, on February 4th, 2023, approximately a month ago, Chan-ssi tried again. This time, he succeeded in ending his life—jumping off the same terrace.” Seungmin’s words were measured, as if everyone was a heavy strike of the hammer. “And during the recovery process, Chan touched death twice, and had to go through a heart surgery that his own father was not ready to pay for. But he’s here now. He’s awake. And he’s healing in the hospital, under proper care.”

A hushed murmur swept through the gallery, the weight of Seungmin’s words hanging heavy in the air. For Minho, the world seemed to slow as he processed everything, the stark, painful truth of what Chan had endured and the depths of the damage caused by the silence and cruelty in his home.

Bora’s shoulders trembled as Seungmin’s words sank in. Her face, already pale, seemed to drain of color even further as the reality of what she had said, what she had done, and the irreversible consequences of her actions crashed over her. Her lip quivered, and for the first time in the entire trial, her composure completely faltered.

“I—” She choked on her words, her voice breaking apart, barely a whisper. “I’m so sorry... I didn’t mean for this to happen… I never—”

She was shaking now, her hands wringing in her lap, desperate to find some way to undo the damage, but there was nothing left to salvage. The words she had spoken to her son—the ones that had shattered him inside—were already out there, irrevocable. The weight of them was suffocating her.

“I never wanted this,” she continued, her voice cracking with each breath. “I—I thought I was protecting him... But I was just so... I was just so tired. I didn’t know what else to do... I thought if I stayed quiet, it would stop... but it didn’t.”

The gallery was silent, the air thick with tension. Bora’s tears fell freely now, each drop a bitter reminder of everything that had gone wrong. She could feel the eyes of the court on her, the judgment from the gallery, but there was no hiding from what she had allowed to happen.

Seungmin, watching her crumble, stood still. His expression didn’t soften, but his gaze remained fixed on her, sharp and steady.

“Apologies won’t undo what either you or your husband did, Ahn-ssi,” he said, his voice low and unwavering, as if reminding her of the finality of the situation. “Your son suffered. And no matter how sorry you are now, that won’t change the scars he carries.”

Bora’s sobs grew louder, wracking her body. She buried her face in her hands, utterly defeated.

“I thought it was just a phase. I thought... if I ignored it, everything would go back to normal.” Her words were muffled by her hands. “I didn’t know... I didn’t know what he was going through... I was too scared of Moonsik. Too scared to do anything, to ask for help... I thought... I thought he’d forgive me.”

Seungmin’s gaze shifted briefly, almost imperceptibly, to where Moonsik sat beside his lawyer, his face still blank, but his jaw clenched tight, a subtle tremor in his hands betraying the facade.

“Did he forgive you, Ahn-ssi?” Seungmin’s question hung in the air, cutting through the atmosphere with cold precision.

Bora didn’t answer. She couldn’t. The silence in the courtroom was all the answer that was needed. She was too late.

Her entire body seemed to collapse under the weight of her regret, her tears falling in torrents as she finally let the guilt and sorrow pour out, the truth of it all more suffocating than any words could express.

The silence stretched for what felt like an eternity, the heavy weight of Bora’s sobs filling the courtroom. The stillness was almost palpable, thick with the remorse that hung in the air. The gallery remained silent, some people averting their gaze, others staring with a mixture of disbelief and judgment. But in that silence, there was something undeniable—the truth had been spoken. And it was too late for any apology to heal the damage.

Seungmin stood motionless, his gaze never leaving Bora, his posture rigid with the quiet intensity of the moment. He let the silence stretch, allowing the full force of his questions to settle into the room, knowing that words at this point would be redundant.

Finally, he straightened, his cold expression unyielding as he turned to face the judge. “No further questions, Your Honor,” the prosecutor said, his voice low, the weight of the words carrying more than any follow-up could.

He then returned to his seat, his back straight, his eyes focused on nothing in particular as he opened a bottle of water from the table. The sound of the bottle cap being twisted open was stark in the stillness of the courtroom. He drank slowly, deliberately, taking his time as though the moment needed to be fully absorbed, the consequences lingering in the space around them.

Judge Han nodded solemnly, her gaze unwavering as she looked from Seungmin to the defense table. “Defense,” she said, her voice cool and measured, “do you have any questions for the witness?”

Attorney Park stood slowly, his face drawn tight, the usual air of confidence completely absent. His eyes were locked on the witness stand, but his mind seemed a thousand miles away. He stood there for a long moment, staring at Bora, as if searching for something—anything—that could save her. But after a beat, he let out a long breath and straightened his suit with a flick of his wrist.

“No, Your Honor,” he said quietly, his voice devoid of its usual sharpness. He looked down briefly, his face betraying the realization that there was no defense left. No strategy. No twist to turn the case around.

The courtroom felt heavier with the unspoken acknowledgment that no matter what came next, the truth had already taken hold. Bora’s fate, and the fate of her family, had already been sealed long before the trial had begun.

The heavy silence that had blanketed the courtroom finally cracked when Judge Han shifted in her seat, the soft rustle of her robes slicing through the stillness. Her gaze swept across the room, pausing briefly on the two broken figures who sat hollowed out by their own confessions.

“The witness may return to her seat,” Judge Han said, her voice steady—cool, but touched with something deeper beneath: disappointment... perhaps even sorrow.

Bora, her hands trembling at her sides, rose from the stand. She kept her head bowed, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes—not the judge's, not Seungmin's, not even the gallery’s, where whispers had already begun to stir.

She moved stiffly, almost like a marionette with frayed strings, returning to her place beside Moonsik, whose face was a mask of barely contained rage.

Judge Han’s gavel struck once, sharp and final. “This court will recess for thirty minutes,” she declared. “We will reconvene thereafter for the final hearing and closing arguments.”

Without waiting for any reaction, she stood and exited swiftly through the door leading to her chambers, the heavy wood swinging closed behind her with a muted thud.

“All rise!” the bailiff called out, though the command was nearly drowned in the sudden swell of movement and hushed murmuring.

Chairs scraped against the floor. Papers shuffled hastily. Everyone seemed to move at once, restless—charged with too much emotion and no clear outlet for it.

The tension had been punctured, but not released. It simply shifted, thickening the air even further as the final act of the trial loomed just ahead.

At the defense table, Attorney Park leaned in swiftly toward Bang Moonsik, his voice low and tight with restrained frustration. “You need to control yourself,” Sunghoon hissed under his breath, barely masking the edge in his tone. “Outbursts like that only make things worse. Especially after what just went on the record.”

Moonsik’s face was blotched with red, his fists clenching and unclenching atop the table. He didn’t spare Sunghoon a glance; his burning gaze was fixed across the courtroom at Seungmin, eyes narrowed into slits of pure hatred, as if he could strike him down just by looking.

“That little punk twisted everything,” Moonsik seethed, voice dripping venom. “He made me out to be some kind of monster—”

“You didn’t need much twisting,” Sunghoon cut in sharply before he could stop himself. Realizing his lapse, he straightened his jacket with a brisk motion and exhaled through his nose, regaining his professional mask.

“Listen carefully, Moonsik,” he said, voice low and measured now. “We still have final statements. If you lose control again, you're only helping them bury you.”

Beside Moonsik, Bora stood motionless. She didn't join the conversation. Didn't even seem aware of it. Her arms hung limp at her sides, her body rigid with exhaustion, defeat, and something deeper—grief, perhaps. Her face was ghost-pale, her eyes hollow, glassy, staring somewhere past the courtroom walls.

She looked less like a defendant now and more like a woman who had finally realized the truth, that she hadn’t been a victim of circumstance, but the architect of her own tragedy.

Across the room, a very different energy pulsed.

Seungmin moved methodically, gathering the scattered documents into his folder with practiced, deliberate hands. His movements were steady, but when his fingers brushed over a worn journal page—Chan’s journal, inked with the quiet agony of a friend abandoned—he stilled for just a breath. The paper crinkled slightly under the subtle clench of his hand.

Before that crack in his composure could deepen, a familiar presence stepped into his orbit.

“You did well, Min-ah,” came a soft, grounding voice.

Seungmin lifted his gaze to find Changbin standing beside him, a quiet, steady smile playing at his lips. Without ceremony, Changbin’s fingers brushed lightly over Seungmin’s wrist—a brief but certain tether.

“It’s not over yet,” Seungmin said, his voice low, the weight of responsibility still anchoring him.

Changbin leaned in, his words pitched for Seungmin alone. “No. But you’re pulling the truth into the light,” he said, the conviction in his tone unshakable. “That’s what matters.”

Seungmin’s jaw loosened slightly, his shoulders sinking just a fraction as the ever-present tension bled away under his fiance’s touch. A small, nearly invisible nod passed between them—acknowledgment, and promise.

Meanwhile, on the gallery side, Minho rose from his seat without a word.

He didn’t spare a glance for anyone—just shoved his chair back and strode toward the courtroom doors, his coat flaring slightly behind him with the force of his movement. His jaw was set tight, his hands curled into fists at his sides, as if sheer willpower was the only thing keeping him contained.

Those who noticed him move gave way instinctively, sensing the storm just barely leashed beneath his stillness.

Felix, seated nearby, watched him go, his stomach twisting. For a moment, he started to rise, instinct tugging at him to follow—but he stilled when another figure approached.

Jeongin, calm despite the weight pressing on the room, carried three water bottles. His presence was a quiet anchor against the churning emotions.

Wordlessly, he held one out to Felix.

Felix accepted it with both hands, as if it were something precious.

“Here,” Jeongin said quietly, his voice even but laced with a quiet strength. He offered the second bottle to Felix’s father, who took it with a tired nod of thanks.

Felix twisted open the cap, drinking deeply, the cold water cutting through the lingering fire in his chest.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, glancing once more toward the doors Minho had disappeared through.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

Jeongin shrugged with a faint, almost knowing smile. “You’re gonna need it,” he said simply. His gaze, usually so gentle, was sharper now. Focused. Steady.

Around them, the courtroom buzzed—low murmurs, the scrape of chairs, the rustle of papers—but the noise barely registered.

The damage had already been done. The fault lines had been split wide open. No lies left to soften the fall. No illusions to cling to.

Just truth.

Raw. Undeniable.

And waiting for its reckoning.

Chapter Text

Hey guys. How are you all? I hope you're doing well. 

First of all, I'm really very sorry for not updating. 

So a quick update on the reason for delay in my updates. 

Well currently I'm in the process of shifting to another country for my Masters. My university starts in September. This is a huge opportunity for me to restart and this I've focused my entire attention towards it. 

And the past months I've been too packed up with the application processes and examinations required. 

I have not abandoned any of my stories. I promise I'll resume the updates once I settle in the new country. It's just that right now I'm too packed with the shifting process along with the university’s and hostel accommodation and I don't get time to sit and write. 

I have written few scenes in every ongoing story of mine. 

I promise I'll start my updates once I settle. 

Thank you for being so patient with this situation. 

Until then take care!! 

Wish me luck!! 

—Nyxx♡

Chapter Text

The sound of the gavel was sharp, signaling the end of the recess. The courtroom, once filled with hushed murmurs, fell into a heavy silence as Judge Han returned to her seat. The weight of the moment was palpable—everyone knew this was it. The final hearing was about to begin.

“All rise,” the bailiff called, his voice cutting through the stillness. The room stood, as though on instinct, the collective breath held tight in anticipation.

Judge Han took her seat again, her expression unreadable as she scanned the room. Her eyes flicked over to the witness stand, where the damaged remnants of the testimony still hung in the air.

“Please be seated,” she said, and the tension that had built during the recess seemed to coil tighter.

Seungmin, standing at the prosecution table, straightened his tie and gave a brief glance toward Changbin, who was seated just behind him. His fiancé offered a subtle but supportive nod, a wordless reassurance that Seungmin didn’t know he needed until that exact moment. It helped steady his nerves, even as the weight of everything that had been revealed hung over the proceedings.

In the gallery, Minho had returned. He was quiet, more so than usual, and there was something about the stillness in his posture that seemed almost unnatural. His usually confident stride was gone. He had walked back into the room, but not fully. His presence didn’t carry the same vibrancy it had before, a subtle hint that the aftermath of the last few hours had changed something in him. He lowered himself into his seat next to Felix and Jeongin, his eyes lingering briefly on Seungmin.

Seungmin, noticing his return, gave him a brief nod, but Minho didn’t return it. Instead, he just stared ahead, as if the man sitting at the defendant's table had become someone he no longer recognized.

“Let us proceed with closing statements,” Judge Han said, looking first to Seungmin.

Seungmin stepped forward, gathering his thoughts. The courtroom was still, the tension thick enough to suffocate anyone who dared speak out of turn. He took a steadying breath and then began, his voice calm yet unwavering.

“Your Honor,” Seungmin began, his voice steady, “This case is about the abuse of trust and the violation of a child’s innocence. Bang Chan endured years of physical violence from his father, emotional torment, and manipulation from both his parents. This led to a desperate attempt on his life, which was prevented two years ago by his boyfriend, Attorney Lee Minho."

Minho stiffened at his name but kept his gaze fixed firmly ahead, resolute.

The prosecutor continued, "However, the pain never left him. On February 4th, 2023, Chan attempted to end his life again, this time jumping from the same terrace. He came dangerously close to death, only saved by the relentless efforts of the medical team who revived him.”

Seungmin paused, letting the gravity of his words hang in the air for a moment before continuing. “Bang Chan is 26 years old. For far too long, he has carried the scars of his childhood. He has survived the abuse inflicted by his father—who, as this court has seen, took extreme measures to suppress his son’s identity and disregarded his emotional well-being in the process. Despite the physical and emotional wounds, Chan is still here. He is still breathing. And he deserves justice.”

Seungmin’s voice dropped slightly, a deliberate shift that underscored the weight of his next words. “Bang Moonsik and Ahn Bora—the two people who should have been his greatest source of love and support—failed him in every conceivable way. And now, it is time for this court to hold them accountable for their actions. For the pain they caused. For the torment they allowed to continue unchecked. And for the life that, despite everything, was saved.”

His gaze flickered briefly to Minho, who remained composed, his eyes fixed ahead. In that brief exchange, there was an unspoken understanding between them—Seungmin would see this through to the end. They both would.

Turning back to Judge Han, Seungmin’s voice took on a firmer tone. “Bang Moonsik’s abuse was systematic. It was cruel. It was relentless. It left deep, lasting scars on his son. Ahn Bora was complicit in that abuse. She stood by and said nothing, doing nothing as her son was shattered, piece by piece. It is time to break the cycle. It is time for justice to prevail.”

As Seungmin finished his statement, a sense of resolve settled over him. He stepped back from the podium, his heart steady despite the weight of the case, knowing that he had said everything that needed to be said.

“Thank you, Prosecutor Kim,” Judge Han acknowledged quietly, her eyes lingering on Seungmin for just a moment before turning to the defense. “Attorney Park, your closing statement.”

Attorney Park Sunghoon rose slowly, his demeanor carefully controlled, his face a mask of practiced calm. There was no sign of discomfort or distress as he began to speak, his voice smooth and deliberate.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he started, his tone warm, almost soothing. “This case, tragic as it is, arises from a profound misunderstanding. Yes, my client, Bang Moonsik, has been strict with his son. But, as any father would, he sought to prepare him for the harsh realities of life. Discipline and structure are not forms of abuse—they are necessary values that set one up for success.”

His voice hardened slightly, an undertone of irritation creeping in. “Certainly, there were difficult times. Yes, there were moments of tension. But never, at any point, was there abuse. The bruises, as the prosecution claims, were the result of activities that were perhaps too intense. But they were never meant to hurt. My client did not set out to break his son. He only sought to build him up.”

Park glanced toward Moonsik, who remained impassive, his expression unreadable. A slight flicker of something—guilt or shame—passed over his face, but it was gone too quickly to decipher.

“The emotional scars are regrettable, yes. But we must also consider the circumstances. Chan-ssi’s sexual identity caused conflict within the family, and, naturally, my client was shocked. But there was no malice behind his actions. This is a father who loved his son deeply, who only wanted to protect him, even if that protection was misguided at times. His intentions were never to harm, but to guide.”

Park let his words hang in the air, a stark contrast to Seungmin’s closing statements—clear, logical, and empathetic. His own words felt hollow in comparison, almost as though he were reaching for something that wasn’t there.

“Your Honor,” he concluded, his voice steady but lacking any conviction, “what we have witnessed here today is not a case of criminal behavior. It is a private family struggle, misinterpreted, misrepresented. A series of unfortunate misunderstandings, nothing more.”

His words settled into the room, and there was a finality to them, but no one in the courtroom felt convinced. “We ask the court to consider these actions within the broader context of cultural expectations, generational gaps, and the intentions—however flawed—behind them.”

He bowed as well, shorter and stiffer than Seungmin had, before returning to his table.

Judge Han’s gaze swept over the courtroom, her expression unreadable, every movement deliberate and composed.

“The case has been made. Both sides have presented their final arguments,” she said, her voice even but carrying the full weight of authority. “We will now proceed with sentencing.”

The sound of her gavel striking echoed sharply, drawing a line under everything that had come before.

The witnesses remained seated; no one moved, no one spoke. The tension was suffocating, pressing down on everyone’s shoulders like a physical weight.

At the prosecution table, Seungmin’s fingers curled slightly around his pen, but his face stayed calm. Changbin, sitting just behind him, caught his eye and gave the faintest nod—silent reassurance. Whatever happened next, they would face it side by side.

Across the room, Moonsik sat rigid, a statue carved out of anger and wounded pride. Beside him, Bora trembled, hands clutched tightly in her lap, her complexion almost ghostly under the courtroom lights.

“Bang Moonsik-ssi, Ahn Bora-ssi,” Judge Han said, her tone crisp, “please rise for sentencing.”

The two stood. Moonsik’s jaw was clenched so tightly a muscle ticked violently at his temple. Bora swayed slightly but stayed upright.

“The charges against you are severe,” Judge Han continued, her eyes sharp and unflinching as they pinned the two defendants in place. “The court finds sufficient evidence to convict you both of the long-term abuse and neglect of your son, Bang Christopher Chan. The pain you inflicted cannot be undone. But this court will ensure that you are held accountable for the suffering you caused.”

The silence in the courtroom was absolute.

Judge Han drew in a breath and delivered the sentence.

“Bang Moonsik, you are hereby sentenced to fifteen years in prison. You will undergo mandatory counselling throughout your incarceration, with no possibility of parole for the first ten years.”

A murmur rippled faintly through the courtroom, quickly silenced by a glance from the bailiffs.

Moonsik’s face contorted into something ugly—rage, humiliation, disbelief. For a moment he looked as if he might lunge forward, but the bailiffs closed in, their presence a warning. Glaring, fists tight at his sides, he forced himself back down, seething.

Judge Han shifted her gaze to Bora.

“Ahn Bora,” she said, her voice neither cruel nor kind, simply final, “you are sentenced to five years of probation, including two years of mandatory psychological counseling. Additionally, you will perform 500 hours of community service related to mental health and youth advocacy.”

Bora let out a small, broken gasp, her hands trembling visibly now.

Judge Han's gavel struck once more.

“This court is adjourned.”

The sound reverberated like the closing of a heavy door—and for Bang Moonsik and Ahn Bora, it was.

Their reckoning had arrived.

—

The courtroom hung in a heavy silence, broken only by the sharp echo of Judge Han’s gavel signaling the end. The verdict was final. The sentences delivered. Justice, long delayed, had finally caught up—but along with it, the eruption of painful truths no one could ignore.

Bang Moonsik stood stiff, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles whitened. His clothes—plain, familiar—felt suddenly foreign, like a thin mask he couldn’t hold any longer. No more excuses. No more control. Just the raw reality laid bare.

“Fifteen years,” he muttered through gritted teeth, each word dripping with bitter disbelief. “For raising my own son.”

His glare was fierce, aimed at Judge Han, at Seungmin, even at Minho. The image he’d built of himself—a father doing what he thought was right—was shattered in front of everyone. No sympathy, no understanding. Just the cold truth he’d tried so hard to bury.

Attorney Park leaned in, whispering urgently, but Moonsik brushed him off with a sharp, frustrated shake of his head. There was no coming back from this.

His eyes finally settled on Bora.

She slumped forward, her shoulders folding inwards as if the weight of the sentence crushed her whole being. The words hung heavy: years of silence, of turning away, of failing to protect.

Tears spilled freely down her cheeks, silent but relentless. Her hands gripped the edge of the defense table, knuckles trembling, as if clinging to it could somehow keep her grounded.

She didn’t dare meet Moonsik’s eyes. She couldn’t.

She had watched her son break—felt it in every fiber of her being—and done nothing. The courtroom air felt thick with her guilt, heavier even than the judge’s ruling.

“I’m sorry,” Bora whispered, her voice fragile, breaking—barely a thread in the vast courtroom. But no one heard. Or maybe no one cared.

Her apology dissolved into the sterile air of the courtroom, into the murmurs building around her, into the verdict already sealing her fate. A whispered regret could not undo years of silence—not when silence had been the knife that cut her son deepest.

Across the room, Seungmin let out a slow, invisible breath.

Relief. Guilt. Something else he didn’t have a name for.

He stood at the prosecution table, hands still resting atop the closing statement he had delivered minutes earlier—hands steady now only because every emotion shaking through him had nowhere else to go. He had won. Justice had been delivered.

But the courtroom victory did nothing to erase the battlefield in his chest.

Chan’s voice from years ago echoed in his mind, slicing through him with startling clarity.

“You’re not weird,” Chan had told him that night, voice warm, calm, gentle in the way only Chan could be.

Seungmin had been young. Confused. Terrified. Sitting alone on the edge of his bed with his heart beating too loudly as he whispered “I… I think I… like a boy.”

Chan hadn’t hesitated. “You’re just you,” he had said, a smile audible even through the phone. “And that’s more than enough.”

They were the last soft words before everything turned into noise. Before the door slammed open in Chan’s house. Before shouting—sharp, vicious—cut through the call.

Before something heavy crashed. Before Chan’s breath hitched with panic. Before—

Silence.

The call had disconnected. Seungmin had stared at his phone with a hollow dread he couldn’t name, dialing again and again, every ring feeling like a countdown. Chan never answered. He didn’t answer the next day. Or the next week. Or the next month.

He transferred universities without warning. His number changed. His online accounts disappeared. He vanished like someone had erased him from the world.

And Seungmin had been left behind with the sinking, horrifying certainty that he had caused it. That if he had kept his confusion to himself—if he hadn’t called—Chan wouldn’t have been discovered. Wouldn’t have been hit. Wouldn’t have—

He swallowed hard, forcing himself upright as the guards escorted Moonsik out of the room.

He hadn’t known. He hadn’t meant for any of it. But that didn’t change the truth. He had been the last voice Chan heard before his world collapsed.

For years, Seungmin had lived with that knowledge like a stone lodged in his lungs. He’d buried it so deeply it fused with his bones.

And when he had seen Chan again—a few weeks ago, seen the case file and then met him in the hospital, briefly, fragile, injured but still alive, older but carrying the same softness—Seungmin had almost apologized. Almost told him everything.

But Chan had smiled softly, spoken too kindly, congratulated on his engagement and Seungmin had frozen. He didn’t deserve to say sorry. Didn’t deserve absolution.

So he had done the only thing he could. He took the guilt, sharpened it, and turned it into purpose.

He hadn’t known, then, just how deep the scars went—until he read the case file, until he read his diary, until he himself interrogated him in the hospital room.

Until he heard Chan’s voice break.

And now, after all these years, after all that silence—

He had finally done something for him. Something real. Something that mattered.

He had looked Moonsik in the eye and dismantled him piece by piece. He had exposed Bora’s complicity. He had given voice to the boy who was never allowed to speak.

But still he didn’t know if Chan would ever forgive him.

He didn’t know if Chan hated him for triggering it or the idea that he didn’t.

Seungmin exhaled shakily, eyes flicking to the gallery where Minho stood—fists curled tightly, shoulders tense like he was holding the world together with sheer will.

Minho had saved Chan years later.

Seungmin had lost him years earlier.

Two boys, two moments, bracketing Chan’s grief like bookends.

As the courtroom began to empty, Seungmin closed his eyes for a moment—not to rest, but to steady himself against the storm inside.

Justice had been served.

But forgiveness?

That was a different trial entirely.

And he didn’t know if he would ever get a chance to stand before that judge.

—

The gavel’s echo had long faded in the air when Minho finally rose—not abruptly, not theatrically, but with a steady, bone-deep finality that made the people around him instinctively shift back.

He had been composed through the entire hearing, every word sharpened with professional precision, every gesture controlled. But now that the verdict had been delivered, something inside him loosened—and something else, something far more dangerous, woke up.

His fingers were stiff where they curled into his palms, nails digging crescents into skin he wouldn’t register until later. His heartbeat, steady as steel during the hearing, now pounded in his ears.

It was over. Justice had been delivered.

But nothing inside Minho felt lighter.

He watched as the security officers approached Bang Moonsik—the man whose existence had defined Chan’s pain, shaped his scars, stolen years of his life. The man who had hit him for being human. Locked him away for being himself. Broken him so deeply that even now, at twenty-six, Chan still woke up shaking sometimes.

The moment the cuffs clicked around Moonsik’s wrists, something sharp and molten flared inside Minho’s chest.

Not satisfaction. Not relief.

Something darker. Something older. Something his usually calm, disciplined nature rarely allowed to surface.

Hatred. Raw, focused, lethal hatred.

Because as the officers hauled Moonsik to his feet, the man didn’t look ashamed. Didn’t look remorseful. Didn’t look defeated.

He looked… angry.

Angry at the system that had finally caught up to him. Angry at the people who had testified. Angry at his wife for breaking. Angry that his power had slipped.

But most of all he looked angry at Minho.

Their eyes met—only for a heartbeat. But it felt like a blade gliding across an exposed nerve.

Moonsik’s gaze burned with pure, venomous fury—like Minho was the root of all his failures, the one who had taken away his control, his reputation, his dominance.

Minho didn’t look away. He stood there, jaw clenched, gaze steady, expression unreadable—but his entire body humming with the instinct to shield, protect, bite, fight.

Because he had taken everything from this man. He had taken away the lies. He had taken away the power. He had taken away the right to hurt Chan ever again.

And he would do it again without hesitation.

For years, Minho had taught himself how to read people, how to dissect a gaze, how to measure a threat before the threat knew it existed.

What he saw in Moonsik wasn’t fear or shame. It was a vow. A vow that said: This isn’t over. Not for me.

Minho’s jaw locked. He remained still, posture flawless in its calm, but something violent uncoiled in his chest—a heat that made his vision sharpen, made his breath turn deliberate and cold. He didn’t flinch He didn’t blink.

He simply met that hatred with a stare of his own; not fiery, not emotional but the quiet, unshakable warning of a man who had nothing left to lose when it came to protecting the person he loved.

Hyunjin and Jisung always teased that Minho was the calmest storm they knew.

Right now, he wasn’t calm. He wasn’t a storm.

He was a wildfire barely caged by iron bars.

But this was not the place to burn. Not the moment. Not when Chan was alone.

He turned away first. Purposely. A deliberate rejection. A statement in itself: You no longer matter. Not in his life. Not in mine.

Moonsik’s glare twitched—just slightly—before the officers pushed him through the back exit.

Only when the door swallowed him did Minho breathe again—one sharp inhale, one slow exhale.

The moment it left him, he felt exhaustion slam into his bones. Felt the ache behind his eyes he’d been ignoring for weeks. Felt the tremble in his hands he refused to show.

But there was no time to breathe. No time to sit in victory or collapse under relief. He needed to go. He needed to leave this courtroom with its cold benches, harsh lights, and too many ghosts.

His hand found his coat, fingers trembling now that adrenaline was fading, and he forced them steady. He could fall apart later—when Chan was awake, safe, in his arms again.

“Hyung.” It was Felix’s voice, soft and uncertain.

Minho paused only long enough to lift his gaze. Felix stood near the aisle, bottle of water forgotten in his hands, his usually bright eyes dimmed with worry.

“How is he?” Minho asked quietly.

Felix swallowed. “He’s sleeping, Hyunjin texted. Stable. The doctors said it’ll take time… he’s still too weak.”

Minho’s throat tightened. Time.

Time Chan hadn’t been given much of since childhood—always surviving, always bracing, always waiting for impact. This time, Minho swore he would wake to something gentler.

“I’m heading there,” Minho said.

Felix nodded. “Text me when you reach. I’ll come after finishing the legal requirements with Dad.”

But Minho was already turning.

The courtroom blurred around him—the wooden tables, the murmurs of pity and disbelief, Bora standing like a ghost in the corner, Attorney Park arguing furiously with his client’s ruined reputation.

None of them mattered. His strides lengthened as he reached the doors.

Then just before he pushed them open he felt it. A wave of emotion crashed over him, fierce and unexpected. It made his throat burn, made his eyes sting. Not sadness. Not relief.

Love.

Love so intense it almost hurt.

He pressed a hand against the door to steady himself, eyes closing for a beat. “Chris… I’m coming,” he whispered.

Minho stepped out of the courtroom hall and into the quiet corridor, the heavy wooden doors closing behind him with a muted thud. For a moment, he simply stood there—still, silent, suspended between two worlds.

Inside was the wreckage.

Outside was the beginning.

He exhaled slowly, shoulders sagging as the weight of months—no, years—finally loosened its grip. The verdict had been delivered. The sentence handed down. Justice, long delayed, had finally stopped running.

For Chan. For the boy who once whispered apologies for being himself. For the man who now lay in a hospital bed fighting his way back.

Minho took a step forward. The corridor lights were soft, nothing like the harsh fluorescents of the courtroom. They felt warmer, gentler—almost like dawn after a night that refused to end. As he walked, the sounds behind him faded. The reporters. The whispers. The clatter of security escorting a monster away.

All of it dimmed until only the quiet echo of his footsteps remained.

At the end of the hall stood a large window overlooking the city. The sun was sinking low, bleeding orange into the skyline. Minho paused beside it—not to admire the view, but because for the first time since he got the call from the hospital weeks ago, Minho felt… still.

Just still.

He pressed his palm lightly to the glass. It was warm.

Chan would like that. Chan always complained about cold surfaces. About cold rooms. Cold hands. Cold hearts.

No more, Minho thought. Not anymore.

He looked down at his left hand—the faint red line where he’d dug his nails in earlier during testimony, the trembling that finally caught up to him now that his fight was over.

He flexed his fingers, inhaling. They had fought. They had won. And now he could finally go back to him.

With a steady breath, Minho turned away from the window and walked toward the elevator. His stride wasn’t frantic or desperate anymore. It was purposeful.

He wasn’t running from anything now. He was walking toward someone.

The elevator doors opened with a soft chime. He stepped inside, pressed the button for the ground floor, and let his eyes fall shut.

Images rose—Chan’s smile, bright and lopsided. The way he leaned into Minho’s shoulder when exhausted. His laugh. His stubbornness. His softness.

Everything they almost lost.

The doors slid open again. His car awaited. Recovery awaited. A whole future they had fought tooth and nail for awaited.

Minho stepped out into the fading light. Not as an attorney. Not as a witness. Not as a man built from sharp edges and iron control.

But as someone who had chosen love as his final argument.

And won.

He took out his phone, thumb hovering over the screen for a moment before he typed four simple words. 

I’m coming, love.

He slipped the phone back into his coat pocket and walked forward. Into a quiet evening. Into a gentler tomorrow. Into a life where Chan would wake to find the world finally—finally—soft enough for him.

The doors of the courthouse closed behind him.

And the story ended where all survivors deserve to stand— not at the beginning of a battle, but at the start of a life rebuilt.

~fin~

“Your story isn’t over — you’re just turning the page.”