Chapter Text
the summer sun always seemed brighter in their little seaside town. jaehyun had known taesan since he was a boy, a year younger, always trailing behind with a mix of curiosity and mischief. they were neighbors, best friends, partners in every small adventure—building sandcastles that the waves would inevitably claim, racing along the boardwalk until their laughter echoed through the village, stealing ice cream from the corner shop when no one was looking. jaehyun had grown used to looking out for taesan, and in return, taesan had trusted him with every secret a boy could hold.
jaehyun waited outside taesan’s house, the warm morning breeze carrying the faint scent of the sea and a hint of his own shampoo from the previous night. his curly hair caught the sunlight, bouncing lightly with every step. when taesan finally appeared at the gate, quiet and composed as always, jaehyun greeted him with that familiar grin that made everyone in school adore him. known for his kindness and charm, jaehyun was like a little golden retriever in human form—every student, boy or girl, seemed to admire him, and there was always someone confessing to him on some random day. yet, behind his sunny smile, jaehyun was known to cry easily, a softness hidden beneath his brave, protective facade—something taesan had always loved about him, remembering how he had tried to act strong as they defended their toys from other kids, tears glinting in his eyes.
taesan, however, preferred the quiet corners of the library, where no one noticed him, immersed in books and avoiding the crowd, counting down the hours until he could escape with jaehyun to the beach. a small knot of worry had formed in his chest lately, though. jaehyun was about to graduate, soon leaving for university in seoul, and the thought of their daily seaside routines, the laughter, and the quiet moments together coming to an end made his chest tighten more than he cared to admit.
as soon as the final bell rang, they sprinted toward the shore, bare feet kicking up sand, laughter mixing with the salty air. together, they collected seashells and chased crabs along the tide line, daring each other to build the most elaborate sandcastle, as if they hadn’t aged a day since elementary school.
lying on the warm sand afterward, they watched the sky melt into shades of orange and gold. taesan eventually rose, returning with ice cream, and pulled out his mp3 player. sharing one earbud, they listened to the playlist taesan had made for them, a collection of songs that became their daily soundtrack. the first song came on: “everybody here wants you by jeff buckley” and they ate their ice cream slowly, savoring the flavor they had loved for years, a taste woven with memories.
jaehyun rested his head on taesan’s shoulder, sighing softly. “let’s stay like this forever… taesan-ah.”
taesan’s hand shifted slightly on the sand, his chest tightening at jaehyun’s words, his heart hammering against his ribs. a small, anxious thrill ran through him, and he feared jaehyun might hear the quickened rhythm—but as always, taesan masked it with his usual composure, telling himself this was normal, that everyone loved jaehyun like this, it wasn’t special. yet, his gaze traced the curls that caught the sunlight, the gentle slope of jaehyun’s cheek, and the faint freckles that danced across his nose. he remembered the boy who had cried while protecting him as children, the same eyes that had glistened with tears in the sand, trying to act strong during fights over toys. the thought that soon jaehyun would be gone to seoul made his chest clench painfully, and he struggled to convince himself that these feelings—his longing, his worry, his fluttering heart—were nothing more than ordinary friendship.
“of course, hyung,” he said quietly, forcing calm into his tone, though inside, his chest ached, every heartbeat echoing his own secret warmth. he tried to convince himself again that it was nothing—just admiration, just a boy loving his best friend—but the memory of those crying eyes made it impossible to deny the flutter of his heart whenever jaehyun looked at him.
“you’re really quiet today,” jaehyun teased, nudging him lightly. “didn’t someone tell you to say something?”
taesan forced a small smile, glancing at him. “i’m listening,” he replied softly, though his mind replayed every memory, every laugh, every moment jaehyun had shed tears to protect him, and the new, pressing worry that soon jaehyun would leave the seaside town for seoul added an ache that he could hardly bear.
they stayed on the beach until the sun had completely sunk into the horizon, the sky painted in deep oranges and purples, each song from taesan’s carefully curated playlist playing one after another. finally, slide away by oasis began to play—a song that was undoubtedly taesan’s choice. he closed his eyes, letting the lyrics wash over him as he felt the faint, comforting weight of jaehyun on his shoulder, their legs brushing lightly against the sand.
“Slide away and give it all you’ve got
My today fell in from the top
And I dream of you
And I dream of you”
taesan breathed in slowly, feeling jaehyun’s subtle movements, the warmth of his body beside him, wishing—quietly, deeply—that they could stay like this forever. opening his eyes, he glanced down at jaehyun, asleep on his shoulder, breathing steadily. the soft rhythm of jaehyun’s breath made his chest tighten in a way he couldn’t quite explain. he froze slightly, afraid to move, afraid to disturb him, and tilted his head to the sky, watching the birds migrating above.
suddenly, a shadow fell across them. woonhak—jaehyun’s cousin, the one who might as well have been a brother from their closeness—stood there, grinning mischievously. “ashh,” he said, creeping toward jaehyun. before taesan could react, woonhak plucked a piece of seaweed and threw it onto jaehyun’s shoulder.
jaehyun bolted upright, startled. “what? a snake? where? get it off me! i don’t want to see it!” he shouted, diving into taesan’s arms. jaehyun clung to him tightly, face pressed against taesan’s neck, his warm breath ghosting over his skin. taesan felt every tremor, every heartbeat, the weight of him pressed close—it made the world blur for a moment.
woonhak laughed, holding his stomach as he pointed at them. “hyung, you should’ve seen your face! you looked so stupid!”
jaehyun jumped up, shaking off taesan and sprinting after woonhak along the sand. taesan stayed where he was, frozen for a moment, still feeling the heat of jaehyun’s breath brushing against his neck—the ghost of it refusing to fade. the space between them was gone, every heartbeat still echoing in his skin. it was dizzying, the way his body remembered the closeness before his mind could. warmth spread through him, sharp and confusing, and he didn’t dare move, afraid to make sense of it.
The air felt heavier somehow. His pulse stuttered as the realization crept in—something had shifted within him, quiet yet unmistakable. He glanced down, a rush of color flooding his cheeks as he understood what that warmth had become. Shame, confusion, and something he couldn’t quite name tangled inside him, leaving him breathless—realizing, with a jolt, that he was hard.
A wave of embarrassment crashed over him, his breath catching as he froze. For a long, suspended moment, all he could hear was the sea, its steady rhythm mocking the chaos in his chest.
Then, suddenly, panic surged. He scrambled to his feet, brushing the sand off his palms, and bolted toward the road that led home. His footsteps were uneven, hurried, as if he could outrun the shame burning in his veins.
after a while, jaehyun and woonhak walked back, still laughing. as they passed by the old ice cream stand, jaehyun stopped to wave at the elderly man behind the counter—the same one who’d served them earlier.
“have you seen taesan?” jaehyun asked, his voice tinged with concern.
the old man nodded toward the hill. “he went that way, back home, looked like something was on his mind.”
jaehyun’s worry spiked. he waved goodbye to woonhak and hurried off in the direction of taesan’s house, heart pounding. when he reached it, he knocked quickly on the door. taesan’s mother opened it. “he’s here,” she said calmly.
“can i come in?” jaehyun asked. she nodded.
just as jaehyun was about to step inside, taesan appeared, walking toward him with a strange hesitation, hands tucked into his pockets. “i… just wanted to… check something,” he muttered, avoiding jaehyun’s eyes, voice unusually low and clipped.
jaehyun studied him for a moment, sensing something off. taesan’s words were minimal, and his gaze carefully avoided jaehyun’s, yet the presence of him still filled the space. concerned, jaehyun decided not to press. “okay… i’ll see you tomorrow then,” he said softly, giving a small smile before turning to leave.
taesan watched him go, lingering in the doorway, chest tightening with all the unspoken words and feelings he still couldn’t name. he let out a quiet breath, the sound of the waves still echoing in his ears, and slowly closed the door, the warm glow of the sunset fading behind him.
The days after that evening by the sea felt heavier somehow.
Jaehyun hadn’t changed—still smiling, still clinging to him without hesitation—but Taesan had. Something had shifted quietly, like a thread pulled too tight.
Every morning, Jaehyun would appear by his classroom door, waving as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He’d walk in just to talk, to laugh, to steal Taesan’s attention away from the lesson. The others teased them sometimes, but Jaehyun didn’t seem to care.
Taesan tried to act the same. To joke back, to smile, to pretend that nothing had changed. But it had. Every touch, every small habit Jaehyun had—the way he leaned against him when he laughed, the way his fingers brushed his hair out of his face—felt too close now.
He’d catch himself staring, heart beating faster for reasons he didn’t want to name. And when Jaehyun wiped a crumb from the corner of his mouth or slung an arm around his shoulder like always, it was almost unbearable.
He told himself to breathe. To remember that this was Jaehyun—his best friend since they were kids. The one person he couldn’t lose.
So he buried it all. The trembling, the warmth, the ache that came with every smile. He laughed when Jaehyun laughed, followed when Jaehyun pulled him along, pretending it was still simple. Pretending he wasn’t breaking a little more each day.
Jaehyun started to notice it—the small hesitations, the way Taesan’s eyes would flick away too quickly, the laughter that sounded a little too forced.
“You’ve been weird lately,” Jaehyun said one afternoon, leaning against Taesan’s desk after class. His smile was the same, warm and easy, but his tone carried a trace of worry.
Taesan didn’t look up. “I’m fine.”
“You always say that when you’re not.”
Jaehyun’s hand reached out, brushing the edge of Taesan’s sleeve. That tiny contact made Taesan’s chest tighten. He wanted to pull away—but didn’t.
“See?” Jaehyun laughed softly, trying to lighten the moment. “You even flinch now when I touch you.”
“I don’t,” Taesan muttered, too quickly.
Their eyes met, and for a heartbeat, neither of them looked away. Something unspoken hung between them, heavy and fragile. Then Taesan stood, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “We’re going to be late for practice.”
Jaehyun smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He followed him out of the room, close enough that their hands brushed every few steps. Taesan felt it each time like a spark under his skin.
And yet, he said nothing.
Because if he did—if he let a single word slip—he knew everything would change.
——————
The seaside town was quieter now, the lazy summer days giving way to the tense hum of final exams.
Jaehyun’s once-carefree mornings were now filled with notes and textbooks, his brow furrowed over problem sets and vocabulary lists. But even in the middle of cramming for his graduation, he made time for Taesan. A quick text, a short message asking if he’d finished homework, or a smile when they met in the hall — little gestures that seemed harmless but left Taesan breathless.
Taesan tried to focus on his own studies, tried to tell himself it was normal, that Jaehyun was busy, that nothing had changed.
But every message, every glance, every smile from Jaehyun felt like a spark against his chest. It wasn’t just attention — it was Jaehyun noticing him, reaching for him despite everything else, and Taesan could feel it all. He thinks I’ve changed because I’ve been quiet,” Taesan mused one evening, leaning against his desk, pencil frozen mid-note. “He doesn’t know it’s because… I notice everything he does. Every glance, every word. Every time he shows up even when he’s exhausted, my heart can’t help but follow him.”
At school, Jaehyun still found ways to slip into Taesan’s world. Standing outside the classroom, offering notes, catching a joke, sometimes just sitting silently beside him while Taesan worked. And every time, Taesan’s chest tightened, his heart thrumming in a rhythm he tried to ignore. He wanted to push away, to bury what he felt, but couldn’t — because even in exhaustion, Jaehyun’s presence was a comfort too sweet to resist.
The thought of Jaehyun leaving for Seoul, going to university and leaving all of this behind, made him ache in ways he couldn’t name. Every little connection became a bittersweet reminder of what he might lose. And yet, he stayed close, smiled, laughed, followed — all the while silently battling the storm inside him.
The last exam had finally ended for Taesan, leaving him with a mix of relief and exhaustion. Jaehyun still had two more tests and graduation procedures ahead, finishing a couple of weeks after Taesan, but tonight, all that mattered was the closeness and the strange tension clinging to the air.
The halls were slowly clearing. Students milled about, laughing and chatting, but Taesan’s attention was fixed on Jaehyun, who was leaning against his friends, laughing in that effortless way he always did. The casual closeness, the way Jaehyun leaned into them, set something alight inside Taesan.
It’s nothing, he told himself. He’s just being Jaehyun…
But the pang of jealousy was sharp, undeniable. His pulse thudded painfully. Before he could think, he grabbed Jaehyun’s hand.
“Come on,” he said, voice low and taut.
Jaehyun blinked, startled.
“Taesan? Wait, what—?”
“No time,” Taesan muttered, tugging him through the thinning crowd. His grip was firm, possessive, yet he said nothing of his emotions. Each step away from the laughter and crowded hallways intensified the storm of longing and jealousy he had kept buried for years.
Jaehyun didn’t question him. He simply followed, trusting, the familiar comfort of their bond wrapping around them like a protective cloak. And Taesan’s heart pounded harder — not just from exertion, but from the closeness, the warmth, the subtle pressure of Jaehyun’s body near his own.
By the time they reached Taesan’s house, night had fully fallen. The soft glow of the porch light barely reached the empty street, and the house seemed quieter than usual. Boxes were stacked neatly in corners, furniture sparse, shadows stretching along the walls. Jaehyun noticed the posters of singers and idols that had once adorned Taesan’s room were gone, leaving it strangely bare.
Taesan’s mother greeted them with a soft smile, but her eyes held a tension Jaehyun didn’t understand. He sensed something was off — her voice carried concern that wasn’t there before. Taesan noticed it too and understood the reason: she was worried about the upcoming changes, about keeping things from him, about Jaehyun. But he said nothing, keeping the secret close.
“It’s late… maybe you should stay for dinner… and the night,” his mother said, gently, her worry unspoken but evident.
Taesan quickly intervened, voice calm but firm:
“Come with me. I’ll set up a bed for you.”
He moved with careful precision, arranging blankets and pillows on the floor, masking the tremor in his hands. Jaehyun followed without question, sensing the unusual atmosphere but unaware of the tension hiding beneath Taesan’s calm exterior.
Finally, satisfied, Taesan gestured toward the bed.
“Here… you can sleep,” he said quietly.
Jaehyun lay down immediately, sighing softly, while Taesan claimed the bedding on the floor beside it. The room was quiet, heavy with unspoken thoughts. Outside, the faint whisper of the night wind and distant waves added to the stillness, carrying a sense of suspense neither boy could name.
After a long pause, broken only by the occasional creak of the floor, Jaehyun shifted, voice trembling slightly.
“I’m sorry.”
Taesan looked up, surprised. Jaehyun’s eyes glistened faintly. He rose from the bed, sitting beside Taesan, voice soft but steady:
“I’m sorry I’ve been distant… but you know… you’re the most important person in my life. No one could ever replace you, Taesan. Even when I laugh with others… even when I’m surrounded by people… you’re always number one to me.”
He leaned into him, hugging him tightly. The warmth, the subtle pressure of his body, the steady rhythm of his breath — everything struck Taesan deeply. Relief mingled with longing, a complex ache in his chest that he fought to hide. He knew he could not let Jaehyun see the depths of his feelings — the jealousy, the desire, the silent fear of losing him before he even left.
The night was heavy with unspoken words, and though Jaehyun remained oblivious to the secret behind Taesan’s subtle tension, the bond between them felt more fragile, more urgent, and infinitely more precious.
taesan held him, leaning in almost without realizing it, their lips meeting slowly. he tasted the faint salt of jaehyun’s tears on his mouth. jaehyun froze, clutching taesan’s shirt, unsure of what to do, his eyes squeezing shut as he pressed himself against him. taesan leaned closer, unknowingly, until jaehyun sank back, his back meeting the cold floor.
taesan’s lips pressed harder against his, painfully insistent, until jaehyun finally parted them, allowing taesan to take him in. a small, sharp sound "ah-" escaped jaehyun, and taesan’s blood ran cold. his head spun, panic flooding him, shouting silently in his mind that what he was doing was wrong. he saw jaehyun sprawled beneath him: lips red, swollen and wet, his curly hair scattered across the floor, breaths heavy and uneven.
a wave of dread and nausea swept through taesan, his chest tightening as if the walls themselves pressed in. finally, he straightened, pulling back slightly. "you should sleep first," he murmured, closing the door behind him without a glance back. jaehyun blinked, heart hammering in his ears, lips still throbbing, the metallic taste of blood lingering in his senses from where taesan had bitten him.
taesan descended the stairs, each step heavy, his chest tight, the weight of what had just happened pressing down on him. at the bottom, he found his mother awake, concern etched deeply into her features. “taesan? are you alright?” she asked, her voice soft yet urgent.
he froze, staring at her worried face, the anguish in his chest making his knees buckle. he sank down to them, trembling uncontrollably. she reached for him instinctively, holding him close as his body shook with sobs. “it’s alright, it will be okay,” she whispered, her hands cradling him as if she could shield him from the storm inside.
“no… it won’t,” he gasped between ragged breaths, voice breaking. “i’ve made a terrible mistake… i’ll never be forgiven.”
she cupped his face gently, her eyes unwavering. “taesan… it’s alright. jaehyun will understand. He knows it’s not your choice that we must leave for seoul .”
“no… it’s not that—” he tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat, swallowed by the torrent of grief and shame flooding through him. he sobbed harder, his whole body trembling, his chest heaving with guilt and fear. she held him tighter, whispering over and over that it was alright, her warmth a fragile anchor in the midst of his emotional storm. slowly, the sobs subsided, his shaking lessened, though the ache inside remained.
finally, she gave him a gentle push, urging him to return to his room before jaehyun noticed. he straightened, the weight of sorrow still clinging to him, and quietly ascended the stairs. the door creaked softly as he entered, and there was jaehyun, already asleep, the faint moonlight brushing across his serene face.
taesan paused at the head of the bed, studying him—the curve of his lips, the way the light played across his cheek, the soft rise and fall of his chest. he reached out, fingers trembling, hovering just above jaehyun’s face, but at the last moment he pulled back. the longing and grief coiled in his chest, heavy and unyielding, as he settled onto the makeshift bedding on the floor. closing his eyes, he tried to still his racing heart, letting the silence of the room enfold them both, though the ache of unspoken words and unrealized feelings lingered between them like a shadow he could not escape.
The morning came slowly, almost reluctantly, as if the sun itself hesitated to rise. Taesan stirred beneath the soft blanket, the room bathed in a pale, trembling light. Beside him, his phone vibrated quietly on the nightstand, or maybe under the pillow, the sudden motion jolting him awake. His heart skipped a beat before he realized it was just a message from Jaehyun.
“I got home safely… had to leave immediately to continue studying.”
Taesan exhaled slowly, the faint scent of Jaehyun’s shampoo lingering on the bed, a bittersweet ghost of the night before. His chest ached with the absence of the boy he wanted so desperately to be close to, and yet could not fully claim. A strange loneliness wrapped around him like a heavy cloak, each breath a reminder of the distance that now lay between them, though he had been mere inches from Jaehyun the night before.
The weight of unspoken words pressed down on him. He remembered every small touch, every laugh, the warmth of Jaehyun’s presence—now replaced by the sterile silence of an empty room. His fingers brushed the space where Jaehyun had slept, as if reaching for something intangible, and for a fleeting moment, he
almost thought he could feel him again
—————
A new morning had come. The second day, bright and ordinary on the calendar, yet for Jaehyun it carried a weight he couldn’t shake. The house was still, almost too still, and even the familiar sunlight felt filtered, strange, as if it were watching him rather than illuminating the room. His chest tightened with a restless pulse, a quiet unease he couldn’t name.
He went through his morning routine mechanically—brushing teeth, straightening his bag, slipping on his shoes—but every movement felt heavier, slower, as if the air itself had thickened overnight. The usual sounds of the house—the creak of the floorboards, the hum of distant traffic—seemed muted, warped, and he felt a tug of apprehension he couldn’t explain. Something was off, though he didn’t know what.
Glancing around the empty rooms, he noted the faint stillness, the absence of Taesan’s usual presence at the window, in the hallway, or even just the small messes left behind in haste. The subtle emptiness wrapped around him, tightening its hold with every heartbeat.
Jaehyun picked up his bag, gripping the straps instinctively, and felt the invisible tension settle over his shoulders. The world outside—the rustling leaves, the distant cars, the chirping birds—sounded oddly distant, almost like a dream, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing, something crucial.
Shaking off the unease, he reminded himself to focus: exams today, routine, focus. Yet the knot in his stomach refused to loosen, twisting coldly and insistently, whispering that something had shifted overnight. With a final exhale, he stepped outside. The morning air did nothing to ease the tight coil in his chest; each step toward school felt heavier than the last, weighted with anticipation and a strange, unnamed dread.
From behind came a voice, urgent and breathless:
— “Hyung! Jaehyun hyung!”
Jaehyun turned instinctively, his heart skipping a beat. Woonhak was running toward him, hair disheveled, breaths sharp and uneven, eyes wide with something between fear and urgency. The air around him seemed to hum with tension, every step Woonhak took echoing in Jaehyun’s chest like a warning.
— “What?” Jaehyun asked, his voice steady on the surface, but inside, his stomach twisted painfully. Something in Woonhak’s expression made his blood run cold.
Woonhak’s lips curved into a crooked, almost cruel smile, but his eyes betrayed the gravity of what he was about to say.
— “Taesan… and his family… moved to Seoul… this morning.”
The words struck him like ice. Time seemed to slow, the world around him dissolving into a haze. The wind, the distant chatter of people, even the rhythmic hum of the city faded into the background. All that remained was the weight of the revelation pressing down on him, freezing his limbs in place.
His bag slipped from his shoulders without thought, landing silently on the pavement. His legs moved, driven by panic more than reason, carrying him first toward the shore—the place where so many memories clung to the air like salt. Then the bridge, the ice cream stand, every corner, every hidden spot that had once held fragments of Taesan’s laughter, the echo of his presence… yet nothing. No sign, no trace, no hint of him.
Rain began to fall softly at first, then heavier, soaking through his clothes, clinging to his skin. Each drop felt like a cold reminder of the absence, the impossibility, the betrayal he couldn’t reconcile. Anger, grief, disbelief—they churned inside him, a storm that mirrored the sky above.
Finally, drenched and hollow, he forced himself to his feet and trudged toward school, his exam looming, a distant, meaningless concern. When he arrived late, water dripping from his hair and clothes, the teacher barely registered him, simply handing him a pencil. He sat alone, staring at the blank sheet, incapable of touching it, as if the world itself had vanished. Minutes dragged like hours, until the bell finally rang and the room emptied, leaving him with nothing but the weight of absence pressing against his chest, his heart pounding with grief and confusion. the classroom fell into an eerie, suffocating quiet. The rain outside tapped softly against the windows, a dull rhythm that seemed to echo the hollow ache inside him. Jaehyun remained at his desk, staring at the blank desk in front of him, pencil still clutched in his hand. The exam sheet had already been collected, leaving only emptiness where months of preparation had once lived.
His chest tightened, his breaths coming in short, ragged bursts. Every attempt to focus, to remember formulas, dates, answers—all of it felt meaningless now, slipping away like sand through trembling fingers. The weight of everything—his exhaustion, the lingering grief over Taesan, the uncertainty, the betrayal—pressed down on him until he could barely breathe.
A tremor ran through his body. His shoulders shook uncontrollably. And then, before he could hold it back, the tears came. Hot, sharp, unrelenting, streaming down his cheeks and onto the empty desk. He didn’t reach up to wipe them. He didn’t care. Each sob tore through him like fire, shaking him from the inside out, leaving him raw and gasping.
He pressed his face into his hands, knees trembling beneath the desk, as if the weight of everything—the exhaustion, the fear, the grief, the absence of Taesan—was finally too much to bear. His heart pounded painfully against his ribcage, a rhythm of panic and sorrow that refused to stop. He had no control. There was no composure left to salvage.
He was alone. Completely alone. And in that silence, punctuated only by the soft patter of rain, the full force of his heartbreak struck him. He cried without restraint, each tear a reminder of his longing, his helplessness, the unbearable emptiness left in Taesan’s absence. Hours seemed to drag as Jaehyun sat on the curb, rain soaking through his clothes, the city around him blurred by the downpour. His bag had been abandoned somewhere along the street in his frantic rush, forgotten. There was nothing in his hands, no shield, no distraction—only the raw, unfiltered weight of absence pressing down on him.
Every place he had searched—shore, bridge, ice cream stand, every corner they had shared—was empty, hollow, mocking. The emptiness gnawed at him, feeding a storm of disbelief, anger, and heartbreak. His chest ached, muscles tense, and his eyes burned with the heat of unshed tears.
The sky seemed to weep with him, rain mingling with the hot sting in his eyes. He pressed his hands to his face, trying to silence the trembling, the panic, the grief that threatened to pull him under. His breaths came ragged, uneven, each one a fight against the surge of emotion clawing at him from the inside.
Eventually, with legs numb and body exhausted, he rose unsteadily, rain dripping from his hair, clothes clinging to him like a second skin. His mind was a tangle of disbelief—how could Taesan just leave? Without a word, without even a hint? The memory of the kiss, the night before, cut through him like a knife, bitter and raw.
He stumbled through the streets, every familiar corner a cruel reminder of what was lost, until at last he found himself heading home. There was no energy left for searching, no hope to cling to, only the ache, the hollow, relentless absence of Taesan.
Inside, the familiar walls offered little comfort. Drenched and shivering, he sank onto the couch, letting the water soak into the cushions beneath him. His body felt heavy, leaden, as if every step he had taken, every breath he had drawn, had drained him completely. He was utterly alone with his grief, utterly consumed by the weight of what he could not change, could not retrieve.
Jaehyun closed his eyes, letting the tears fall freely now, unchecked. The anger, the betrayal, the sorrow—they all mingled into a single, suffocating ache, leaving him trembling and hollow. He had nowhere to run, nothing to hold onto, only the cold, unyielding reality that Taesan was gone, and he had no idea when—or if—he would ever return