Chapter Text
Mars wasn’t just a group.
On campus, they were the group, five kids who sang, danced, and owned every stage they stepped on. Pepper’s smile, Nano’s endless jokes, Thame’s steady leadership, Jun’s magnetism… and Dylan.
At first, Dylan kept his distance. He was the new one, all sharp edges and rolled eyes, too serious about practice to waste time with inside jokes. Everyone else had clicked instantly, but Dylan chose silence, showing up, rehearsing, leaving.
Jun never let him get away with it.
He was the kind of boy who made friends without trying, warm and careless, always ready with a teasing comment. And when Dylan stayed on the sidelines, Jun noticed.
He started poking, testing. A smirk when Dylan missed a step. A raised eyebrow when his voice cracked during warm-ups. “You’re getting rusty, aren’t you?”
It was infuriating.
And Dylan bit back every time. Their rehearsals turned into quiet duels, subtle smirks across the mirrors, little pushes during formations, comments whispered just loud enough to sting.
They annoyed each other on purpose. And, somehow, that became their rhythm.
Weeks blurred into months, and annoyance shifted into something else,something heavier, more dangerous. Because under every shove, every eye-roll, there was heat. The kind that lingers.
The night it all changed was a party. Mars had finished performing at a campus festival, sweat still clinging to their skin, adrenaline buzzing in their veins. The music was too loud, the drinks too strong, the lights too dim.
Dylan should have gone home.
Instead, he stayed.
He found Jun in the crowd, laughing, a drink in hand, his shirt clinging to his chest. Their eyes met, and Jun smirked like always but this time, Dylan didn’t look away.
One drink turned into two. One joke turned into Jun leaning closer, lips brushing Dylan’s ear as he whispered something that made his stomach twist. Dylan shoved him, Jun laughed, and then, without warning, they kissed.
It was reckless, too fast, too much. But it felt inevitable.
After that night, it kept happening. Behind closed doors, after long rehearsals, hidden in the cracks of their busy lives. No one else in Mars knew. Not Pepper, not Nano, for some time not even Thame, even if Dylan was terrible at hiding anything from him. Only Po, Jun’s closest friend, seemed to suspect.
The rule was simple:
It wasn’t serious.
No promises. No labels. Just stolen kisses, late-night touches, the kind of fire that burned brightest when no one was watching.
But Dylan… Dylan was already falling.
He tried to fight it, to bury the way his chest lit up whenever Jun’s hand brushed his during choreography, or the way his heart raced when they sang harmonies too close. He told himself it was just thrill, just lust, just the fun of keeping a secret.
But he knew. Deep down, he knew.
He was in love.
Completely, hopelessly, quietly in love.
And that was the problem.
Because love had never been part of the deal.
~
Jun had lost count of how many nights he’d sworn to himself that this would be the last time. The last kiss. The last “accidental” sleepover. The last time he let Dylan pull him closer and turn all his defenses into smoke.
But then Dylan would look at him. Really look at him. And Jun was done for.
A year. That’s how long this secret had lasted. A year of sneaking out of dorm rooms at dawn, of brushing hands in rehearsals like it meant nothing, of letting the world believe they were just teammates.
Jun told himself it was safer this way. That if no one knew, nothing could be ruined. That if they didn’t call it love, maybe it wouldn’t break.
But the truth was burning a hole in his chest.
Because he loved Dylan.
He had loved him for a long time.
And today, he was going to do something about it.
Jun sat on the edge of his bed, phone in hand, typing and retyping a message until his thumb hovered over the send button. His stomach twisted, heart thundering. Finally, he hit send.
Messages
Jun: Lunch tomorrow? Just us. No excuses this time.
Dylan: lol, sounds suspicious.
Jun: Maybe it is. You’ll find out. 1pm.
Dylan: …fine. but you’re paying.
Jun: Worth it.
Jun grinned at the screen like an idiot, falling back against the pillows. His whole body buzzed with nerves. This wasn’t just lunch. He had it all planned out, his words, the little gift hidden in his drawer, the way he was going to finally ask Dylan to be his boyfriend. No more rules. No more pretending.
But the closer it got, the more his courage shook.
“Bro, I can’t do this,” he muttered, pacing his dorm with his shirt half-buttoned. His phone was on speaker, Po’s calm voice filling the room.
“You’ve been doing this for a year,” Po replied dryly. “If you don’t say something now, Dylan’s going to think you don’t even like him.”
“I like him! I—God, I love him.” The word slipped out before Jun could stop it. He pressed a hand over his mouth, like the walls could hear.
“Exactly.” Po’s tone softened. “So stop freaking out. Just tell him. He’ll probably laugh at you first, but then he’ll say yes. You know he will.”
Jun sat back down, running a hand through his messy hair. His chest felt too small for how much he wanted this. Dylan wasn’t just anyone. Dylan was the boy who made him lose sleep, who made rehearsals feel like heaven and torture at the same time. The boy he couldn’t imagine leaving behind.
“I swear, if this goes wrong, I’ll blame you,” Jun muttered.
Po laughed. “Fine. Blame me. Just don’t back out.”
Jun hung up, forcing himself to breathe. He stood, slipping into his favorite white button-up, the one Dylan once teased him about looking too “proper” in. He checked the mirror, adjusted his collar. His hands were shaking. But it was a good kind of fear, the kind that meant his life was about to change.
He was almost ready when his phone buzzed again.
Film: We need to talk. Urgently. I’m coming to your dorm.
Jun froze. His best friend never used words like urgent. His heart sank as he stared at the screen.
Not now. Not today.
The knock at his door came faster than he expected, snapping him out of his spiral. Jun glanced once more at the mirror, at the boy who was supposed to be walking into a date with Dylan right now, and then turned toward the door.
“Film?” he called, his throat tight.
And just like that, everything he’d been planning began to crumble.
~
Dylan wasn’t stupid.
He knew something was up.
Jun wasn’t exactly subtle. The way he had sent that message
“Lunch tomorrow? Just us. No excuses.” was suspicious as hell. And Jun never offered to pay unless he was trying to cover something.
Which meant… maybe this was it.
The thought alone made Dylan’s chest feel too tight, like he couldn’t hold all the air he needed. After a year of being tangled in something that had no name, maybe Jun was finally ready to give it one.
“Thame!” Dylan groaned, falling onto his bed dramatically, phone pressed to his chest. “He’s going to ask me out, I swear.”
Thame didn’t even look up from his laptop. “You’re acting like a middle schooler waiting for his crush to pass him a note in math class.”
“I am waiting for my crush, you idiot!” Dylan sat up, throwing a pillow at him. “Do you realize how big this is? A year, Thame. A whole year of… whatever the hell this has been. And today…today it changes.”
Thame caught the pillow, rolling his eyes but smiling anyway. “You look like you’re about to vomit.”
“Yeah, from happiness!” Dylan jumped up, already pacing. His hands couldn’t stay still. “I’m telling you, I can feel it. He’s going to do it. He’s going to actually ask me.”
“Good,” Thame said simply. “You deserve that. You deserve someone who actually—”
“Don’t,” Dylan cut in quickly, shaking his head. He didn’t want to think about what it would mean if Thame was wrong. He didn’t want to imagine Jun not showing up. Not today.
So he focused instead on getting ready. Way too early.
By eleven, he was already showered, hair styled, and wearing the shirt he knew Jun liked, the one Jun once tugged at and said, “This color makes your eyes look dangerous.” He checked the mirror over and over, too restless to sit still.
By twelve-thirty, he was pacing the dorm room, biting his lip, running through every possible version of Jun’s “speech.” Would he be nervous? Would he try to play it cool? Would he say the word “boyfriend” out loud?
Dylan’s stomach flipped just thinking about it.
When the clock ticked past 1:00, he sat on the edge of his bed, phone in hand, grinning like an idiot. Any second now.
1:05.
Still nothing.
He typed quickly:
Dylan: late already? what, were you practicing your proposal in the mirror? 😂
He waited.
And waited.
By 1:20, the grin had faded. Dylan refreshed the messages, checked his Wi-Fi, even called once before hanging up immediately. Maybe Jun was caught up. Maybe he was running across campus right now.
By 1:45, irritation simmered. He tossed the pillow across the room again, muttering, “Unbelievable. He sets the damn time and I’m the one waiting like an idiot?”
Thame glanced over, cautious. “Still no word?”
Dylan shook his head, jaw tight. “Nothing. Not even a text.”
By 2:15, the irritation had cracked into something heavier. He sat curled on the bed, staring at his phone like it might come alive if he looked hard enough. His chest ached in ways he didn’t want to name.
“What if something happened to him?” Dylan whispered.
“Jun’s fine,” Thame reassured gently. “You know how he is. He probably got distracted or—”
“Or he just doesn’t care enough,” Dylan cut in, his throat tight. “Or maybe I cared too much, and this whole time he was just… playing around.”
Thame didn’t argue. He just sat nearby, letting Dylan spiral in circles.
By 3:00, the hope had bled out of him completely.
He lay down, back turned to the window, clutching his phone like it might still buzz. His eyes burned, but he didn’t bother to fight it anymore.
Jun wasn’t coming.
Jun had stood him up.
And for all the fire they had shared, all the secrets and stolen nights, Dylan realized with a hollow ache that maybe he was the only one who thought it was real.
Tears slid hot and quiet onto his pillow as he curled tighter, whispering into the silence:
“I was so ready to be yours.”
And then he let himself break.The weekend dragged like a wound that wouldn’t close.
Dylan checked his phone until the screen blurred, replaying every unread message, every call that went straight to voicemail. He didn’t sleep much. Every knock in the hallway made his chest jump. But Jun never came.
By Monday, Dylan forced himself out of bed, eyes heavy, throat raw from a night of crying he refused to admit to. Mars had rehearsal at noon. If Jun was going to show his face anywhere, it would be there.
Except he didn’t.
Pepper and Nano kept glancing at the door between run-throughs, expecting him to stroll in with some careless excuse. Thame sat on the floor, arms crossed, lips tight. Dylan didn’t even bother pretending, he couldn’t hide how tense he was, checking his phone every five minutes.
“Maybe he’s sick,” Nano offered. “Or overslept.”
But then Aun walked in. He wasn’t part of Mars, but he liked hanging around the studio. And he loved to gossip.
“You guys haven’t heard?” he asked, way too loud, like he’d been dying to say it. “About Jun and Film?”
Dylan’s head snapped up. “What about them?”
Aun grinned, savoring the attention. “My mom works at Film’s house, you know. She said she overheard everything. Film’s pregnant. With Jun’s kid.” He let the words hang, sharp and cruel. “And they’re leaving for Shanghai. Her family’s huge, super powerful. They don’t want anyone at this school finding out.”
The room went silent. Even Pepper, who usually had something to say, looked pale.
“That’s… that’s just a rumor,” Thame said firmly, his eyes flicking to Dylan.
But Dylan’s stomach twisted violently. Pregnant? Shanghai? The words felt like knives, stabbing in places he didn’t even know could hurt. He wanted to laugh, to throw something, to scream that it was impossible.
Instead, he clenched his jaw and stood up so fast his chair scraped across the floor.
“You really believe that garbage?” he snapped at Aun, his voice too sharp, too loud. “Just because your mom heard something doesn’t make it true.”
Aun raised his hands innocently. “I’m just telling you what she said. Don’t shoot the messenger.”
Dylan turned away before he could explode. His chest was burning, his pulse erratic. He didn’t believe it. He couldn’t. But the images wouldn’t stop, Jun and Film whispering, Jun making choices without him, Jun leaving.
The rest of rehearsal was a blur. Dylan barely sang, barely danced. By the time his last lecture ended, night had already swallowed the campus. But the weight in his chest had only grown heavier.
So he walked. Straight to the dorms. Straight to room 206.
The night was heavy. The kind of night where the air feels heavier than your own body. Dylan climbed the dorm stairs with the steady steps of someone about to explode, but inside, he was all chaos. The unanswered messages, the rumors echoing through the halls, the pitiful stares… Everything pointed to the same truth he refused to accept.
Jun had left him.
But still, part of him needed to hear it from Jun himself. To see it in his eyes. And maybe… maybe it was all a lie.
When he reached room 206, the same room he had slipped into so many times, leaving silently, Dylan raised his hand to knock. But before his fist could touch the wood, the door opened.
Jun.
Their eyes met. One second. Two. Three. Long enough for everything to fall apart.
Jun looked smaller. His shoulders slumped, his face tense, skin too pale. He was just about to leave, keys in hand, planning to find Dylan. He wanted to talk, too. But it was too late.
“Were you going to tell me?” Dylan asked, his voice low and hoarse, barely a whisper. Not angry, just tired.
Jun lowered his gaze but stepped aside, giving space for Dylan and he entered without thinking, closing the door behind him. The silence in the room was thick enough to hurt.
The air between them felt charged. Jun’s mess scattered on the floor, the photos taped on the wall, the guitar resting in the corner. Everything seemed normal. But nothing was. He could see the luggages on the side of the room but he jus turned his face to the other side, ignoring what that meant.
“I…” Jun started, but his voice cracked.
Dylan waited, but he no longer had time for unspoken promises. He wanted to understand, but understanding hurt.
Jun tried again, eyes glassy.
“I didn’t know what to do. She’s pregnant. She… asked for help, and I… I thought it was the right thing.”
“The right thing?” Dylan let out a bitter, humorless laugh. “And me? I sat waiting for you for hours. Got dressed up, worried about you, thought something serious had happened.”
Jun couldn’t answer. Every word felt like a knife. Everything he had rehearsed fell apart under Dylan’s broken gaze.
“I didn’t know how to tell you, I…”
“So you didn’t,” Dylan finished for him. His throat tight, eyes burning.
Silence returned, but now it was overflowing, with memories, stolen nights, unspoken promises. Dylan looked at Jun again. He was still beautiful. Still the same boy who laughed with his eyes and whispered “stay a little longer” in the dark. But now, he was also the boy who chose to leave.
Dylan took a step forward, heart pounding, fists clenched. He wanted to scream, to hit something, to ask why he hadn’t been enough.
But in the end, all he did was kiss him.
The kiss was sudden, fierce, full of everything stuck in his throat for too long. Dylan pushed Jun against the door, their bodies close enough for their breaths to become one. Dylan’s trembling hands reached for Jun’s face, trying to memorize it, as if he might disappear again.
Jun didn’t resist. On the contrary, he clung to Dylan with the same urgency. His fingers gripped the fabric of Dylan’s shirt, pulling him closer, wordlessly begging him not to let go. Not to leave, too.
They stumbled across the room blindly, kissing like it was their first—or last—time. When Jun felt Dylan’s warm hands under his shirt, his heart raced. He let him, too tired to say no anymore.
They both knew what they were doing. They knew there was no tomorrow for this. And that’s what made it so intense.
“This is goodbye, isn’t it?” Dylan asked, voice hoarse, eyes locked onto Jun’s like he was searching for a lie.
Jun didn’t reply. He just pressed his forehead to Dylan’s and sighed, chest rising and falling heavily. The silence said everything.
“Just for tonight…” Dylan whispered against his skin. “Pretend we still have a future.”
Jun nodded, his eyes wet with tears, fingers trembling as they reached for Dylan’s zipper with the desperation of someone about to lose everything. And he was.
Clothes came off slowly, as if each piece took a bit of pain or guilt with it. They touched gently, with hunger, with fear. Like people in love who are about to say goodbye.
Dylan was trembling when Jun laid him down, covering his body with his own. The kisses now were slower, deeper. Jun’s fingers traced every inch of Dylan’s skin he knew so well, yet now felt brand new. Dylan squirmed beneath him, eyes shut, lips parted, letting out restrained moans. His skin was hot, alive, and responded to every touch with a fire that made Jun’s body shake.
It wasn’t about rushing. It was about needing.
Their hands found each other, clung tight, then let go, only to meet again like they feared this would vanish too. Jun fit against Dylan like the world made sense only in that moment.
Their movements were slow at first, urgent kisses and aching touches guiding them. But little by little, the rhythm built, driven by unspoken need, broken sighs, and tears too loud to ignore.
Dylan watched him, breathless, as Jun bit his lip to muffle a cry. Their bodies moved in perfect sync, like they were trying to carve each other into memory.
“I love you,” Jun whispered, almost voiceless, like he finally had the courage to say it.
“Why now?” Dylan asked, voice shaky, the pace slowing. “Why only now?”
“I always did,” Jun replied, swallowing a sob. “I just never knew how… to stay.”
Then he held him tighter. And that’s how they let the pain speak—through touch.
When it was over, Jun curled up beside Dylan, breath still heavy. Silence returned, thicker than before. But this time, it carried a quiet kind of peace.
Dylan knew, when the sun rose, Jun wouldn’t be there.
But for that night… he had been his.
And even if it was a curse dressed as a gift, it was still everything Dylan had.
Dylan woke up cold.
The blanket had slipped down his legs, and the other side of the bed was empty. Still warm, but already weightless. He didn’t open his eyes right away, as if staying still could trick time. As if Jun might still be breathing beside him.
But the room was too quiet.
He turned his head slowly, heart tightening. That side of the bed where Jun had slept… was now empty. No scent.
Dylan sat up, muscles aching, though not as much as the hollow tearing through his chest.
He called softly,
“Jun?”
Silence.
He stood, stumbling, still naked and disoriented. Ran a hand through his messy hair and walked to the other side of the room. A part of him already knew. A part had already accepted.
The first thing he noticed was the wall.
The photos were gone.
The ones Jun had taped up, of them at the beach, with friends, of Dylan sleeping with a book on his chest, of Jun’s favorite cracked mug. All gone. A white void where memories used to be. A silence so loud it hurt more than a slammed door.
The closet was half open. Dylan pulled it gently. Empty hangers swayed slowly, mocking him. Jun’s clothes, his neatly folded button-ups, his old hoodies that smelled like his cologne, the red sneakers he claimed were ugly but wore anyway, were gone.
The bookshelf was only half full. The other half? Bare. Like him.
Dylan approached the desk. Jun’s notebooks, the blue bookmark he always used, even the cup with pens… gone.
All that was left was a single piece of paper.
Folded in half, with Jun’s usual rushed handwriting. Dylan took it with shaking hands and sat back on the bed.
“I’m sorry for making you wait.
I’m sorry I never learned how to stay.
I didn’t want it to be like this,
but if I saw you again in the morning,
I wouldn’t be able to leave.
You were my home for a whole year.
And for one night,
you were my whole world.”
Dylan ran his fingers over the note like he could warm something that had already gone cold. Rested his forehead on his knees, the letter pressed to his chest.
The pain wasn’t just in the leaving. It was in everything still alive inside him that had nowhere to go.
The clock read just past eight in the morning. But time felt wrong, like the whole world had lost its rhythm when Jun walked out that door.
Dylan looked around the room once more.
The missing photos.
The empty hangers.
The words still echoing.
He didn’t cry.
He just took a deep breath, stood up slowly, and walked to the window.
Outside, the city moved on.
Cars passed, people rushed, new meetings, new goodbyes.
But inside that room, in that instant, everything stood still.
Jun was gone.
And he had left behind the cruelest kind of emptiness:
The kind that lingers when love hasn’t really ended.