Chapter Text
Eunyung is in his final year now. Technically a senior, officially a 'sunbae', and increasingly allergic to the title. The younger students kept calling him 'hyung' with wide-eyed reverence, like he was supposed to have answers just because he was one year older than them. He didn’t. He just grimaced through it, nodding when expected, offering half-hearted advice when cornered.
It wasn’t that he hated people. He just didn’t have the energy to pretend he cared about things he’d stopped believing in. The formalities felt hollow—like someone had handed him a script he never auditioned for.
Back when he was the younger one, things felt easier. He could get away with being a little spoiled, a little annoying. People teased him, sure, but they also let him lean on them. He didn’t have to carry anything. Didn’t have to pretend to be composed or capable. Just being there was enough.
Now, it started to feel like everyone looked at him like he was supposed to know better. Like he was supposed to be stable. Reliable. He hated it.
He didn’t even believe it himself. But people saw the part-time job, the way he cooked for his roommates without being asked, the way he remembered deadlines even when he didn’t care about them. They mistook it for competence.
It wasn't him—it was something he learned from being with someone else.
From watching Haejoon.
The guy had routines. Systems. A quiet, boring way of keeping things from falling apart. Eunyung used to think it was insane, like Haejoon was keeping some grand secret. But somewhere along the way, he’d picked it up.
He wish he hadn't.
Now, late afternoon, Eunyung is at home, half-watching a muted TV show while scrolling through his phone. The light outside is dimming, casting long shadows across the room.
His phone has been buzzing nonstop from random messages—ones he'd been blissfully ignoring while he munches on snacks. Too many people wanted to talk to him, yet none offered him anything interesting.
That is, until one message catches his eye. And, bewilderingly, it does.
Text from Haejoon:
"I think I'm dropping out."
He stares at the message for a full minute, waiting for the punchline. None comes. Haejoon doesn’t joke like this. Haejoon doesn’t even text like this.
He types a response, fingers moving briskly:
"What. Why?"
Deletes it.
Types again:
"Are you serious?"
Deletes that too.
Finally, he sends:
"Call me. Now."
This doesn’t make sense. Haejoon was the type to plan his week down to the hour. Probably with studies, but it's a plan nonetheless. He once color-coded his lecture notes.
Eunyung also remembered him saying something slightly cringey, like, “I don’t care if it’s hard. I just want to finish what I started.”
So what the hell was this?
Dropping out? That’s not just out of character—it’s out of orbit.
A few months ago, they'd met up on a Saturday. It was just something he agreed to on impulse—blamed it on boredom, or timing, or whatever excuse felt convenient. Definitely not because he was flustered. Definitely not because it caught him off guard that Haejoon still wanted to know how he was doing. Like Haejoon still thought about him.
He told himself it didn’t mean anything. But the truth was, it did. Just enough to make him say yes without thinking.
Haejoon was sitting across from him at a random café, talking about his coursework with robotic precision. Not much emotion, just facts. What he learned in class. And how strange some of the assignments were. Eunyung had thought it was boring.
But even then, Haejoon kept circling back to him.
“What about you?”
“How’s work?”
“Are you still cooking for everyone?”
It wasn’t pushy. Just quiet, persistent curiosity. Like he was trying to piece together Eunyung’s life from scraps. Eunyung had deflected most of it. But the other guy didn’t seem to mind. Just kept asking.
Eunyung remembered that for no good reason. Maybe because it was the last time Haejoon looked him in the eye and asked, “Are you okay?”
Now, his phone buzzed again.
Eunyung blinked, pulled back into the present. He tries calling Haejoon’s number. Once, twice, again. No answer. The message Haejoon sent wasn’t even ten minutes ago. This bastard was ignoring him on purpose.
He swipes to the messages app, thumbs flying:
"Pick up."
"I swear to god, if you’re ghosting me after that text."
He tries calling again and again. None of the attempts were picked up.
Either something has seriously gone wrong, or Haejoon had always hid something that he doesn't want to talk about.
Eunyung curses loudly in the living room—this stupid idiot doesn't even have a social media that he can check. Just to have at least a little bit of context. But nope, he genuinely has no clue what's happening.
He shoots Juwan a text:
"Has Haejoon been acting weird lately?"
After a few excruciatingly long minutes, a reply:
"He's been ghosting me too. Thought he was just busy. Why?"
Eunyung replies:
"Nothing. Just checking."
The dread starts to creep in as Eunyung finally registers the message in his brain. He grips his hair, face contorting into bewilderment.
Juwan's nonchalance means he didn't receive that text. The silence from Haejoon hinted at deeper issues. It's something Haejoon never divulged to anyone else about.
It's a big problem.
Eunyung grabs his jacket and rushes out without much thought, or even a plan. He doesn't bother telling Juwan. He doesn't bother telling anyone.
Right after Haejoon moved out, he said it made more sense to commute. Something about saving money, about how the university was just a few districts away—close enough to manage by public transport. He’d framed it like a practical choice. But Eunyung never bought that.
It felt more like guilt, honestly. Like Haejoon couldn’t stomach the idea of leaving his uncle alone in that quiet apartment. Or maybe he thought staying off-campus made him less of a burden. Especially with that scholarship covering for tuition but not housing.
He used to roll his eyes at it, thinking it was just Haejoon being rigid again. Now, it’s the only reason he knows where to find him.
He arrives at the modest apartment complex. The stairwell smells faintly of detergent and cigarette smoke, but it's much cleaner than that old place he used to rent with his so-called 'friends'.
As Eunyung approaches the front door, he doesn’t knock immediately. He hesitates, unsure of what he’s even going to say.
He hadn’t thought this far ahead. Just move. Just get there. He didn’t know what he’d find. But he knew one thing; there was no way he'd leave without getting a clue.
He knocks. Once. Twice.
The door opens to reveal Haejoon’s uncle—tired eyes, holding a mug of tea instead of alcohol. He looks surprised, but not alarmed.
The elder greets him. "Eunyung? Something wrong?"
"Hey. Uh, is Haejoon home?" he replies, keeping his tone casual.
"He's... at school, I think? Said he had a group project. Why?" the man replies, confused by the question.
That’s a lie. Eunyung knows it instantly. The kind Haejoon would feed to his uncle to keep things quiet.
“I just… got a weird message. Wanted to check in.”
"...What kind of message?"
“Just sounded stressed. Thought I’d drop by.” Eunyung dodges.
Uncle's frown deepens. "...He’s been acting off lately. Said he was sick last week. Didn’t eat much. I thought it was exam stress.”
Eunyung’s stomach sinks. That’s not exam stress. That’s something else.
He’s seen this before.
Last year, in the living room of their old shared house, Haejoon had gone quiet after Eunyung—half by accident, half by instinct—pointed out something strange in one of Haejoon’s stories about his parents. A pattern. A detail. Something that didn’t sit right with the pictures.
And then Eunyung hadn’t seen him for the rest of that day.
Not until he looked.
His eyes flick down. Only a pair of shoes by the entrance. Haejoon isn't here.
"He's not at home? Where does Haejoon go when he's not on campus?"
"I'm not sure. But when he's not... he doesn't wander far off. Just walking distance from here."
"Okay." Eunyung replies. He gives a polite bow as a farewell.
He rushes out of the premise immediately, heart thudding uneasily in his chest despite his best efforts not to panic. This is annoying and in the worst way possible. Haejoon hasn't even opened his messages.
He probably saw the notifications and got scared, the little b—
Eunyung walks briskly through the neighborhood. The sun has dipped below the horizon now, leaving the streets bathed in a dull, bluish haze. Streetlights start to flicker on one by one, casting a glow across the pavement. It's dusk, just before nightfall.
Despite his lingering frustration, he's been looking around for the whole day.
He doesn’t know where he’s going. Just that he has to keep moving. If he stops, the dread will catch up. And he’s not ready for that.
He checks his phone again. Still unread.
He passes the small convenience store near the bus stop—empty. The park bench across the street—vacant. The alley behind the laundromat—silent.
Then, just as he’s about to give up and call Juwan, he sees a figure sitting alone at the edge of the neighborhood park. A familiar head of rough hair. Head bowed, legs drawn in. That posture is unmistakable. He'd seen it once before. Not exactly a good memory.
Eunyung approaches slowly, heart thudding. He doesn’t call out. Just walks until he’s close enough to see Haejoon’s face. It's pale, sleepless, and the eyes fix on nothing.
Eunyung reluctantly sits near him on the curbside—not directly beside. It's uncertain what might happen. Haejoon doesn't flinch, doesn't look at him.
Finally, he speaks out. "You idiot. You fuckin' scared me."
Haejoon exhales, his shoulders slumping with resignation.
Eunyung inches closer, leaning with his elbows braced on his knees to peer at Haejoon's expression. Still nothing. He leans back, trying to match where Haejoon's looking. The streetlight. Nowhere important.
A car passes in the distance. He doesn’t ask questions. Not yet.
As time stretched, the night wind rustles the trees with a cold breeze. It starts to hit Eunyung too, making him shiver a little. His eyes glance briefly to the side, catching Haejoon just sitting there. Silent.
Eunyung suddenly stands up, fists clenched at his sides. "I'm cold. Let's go somewhere else," he says, turning to face Haejoon.
Haejoon doesn’t move at first. His fingers twitch slightly, but his gaze stays fixed.
"...You're freezing. I'm freezing. Come on." Eunyung speaks firmly. He doesn't reach out. Part of him wants to, but he holds back.
He still doesn’t know what this is.
Haejoon finally shifts. Slowly, like his limbs are made out of stone. He stands, but it's almost like he's avoiding Eunyung's gaze.
"I don’t really want to get into it. Just... let me wander for a bit."
"Then we won't." Eunyung doesn't miss a beat.
They start walking. Not toward the apartment. Eunyung doesn’t ask where. He just matches Haejoon’s pace, trailing slightly behind him. Slow and uneven, like each step is a heavy decision to make.
They pass shuttered shops and dim cafés. Eunyung watches a stray cat dart across the road, still not speaking.
It's not the first time they've walked silently in the night like this. But this one felt different.
After a while, Eunyung catches up. He gestures toward a spot in the distance.
“There’s a 24-hour place near the station. We can sit there.”
"Okay." Haejoon responds without much thought. His steps slow down, following Eunyung's lead now.
They settle into a booth inside a convenience café. Not trendy, not cozy, just functional. Fluorescent lights hum over them, brightening the atmosphere better than outside.
Eunyung orders something warm—tea, for two. He just wanted something hot to hold in his hands.
Across from him, Haejoon rests one arm on the table and stares off to the side. His eyes keep drifting, never settling, like he doesn’t want to focus on anything. He sits still, as if staying motionless might conserve energy.
Eunyung sighs.
“You don’t need to tell me everything," he says, leaning back on his chair. "But you gotta say something.”
He wanted to ask a hundred things. Why now? What the hell happened? He grips the cup a little too tightly, letting the heat bite into his palms. It’s better than saying the wrong thing.
Haejoon wraps his fingers around the paper cup, but he doesn’t drink. The tea’s steam curls upward, untouched. His gaze fixes at the edge of the table.
“I thought I could handle it.”
Eunyung doesn't interrupt.
“I kept thinking… if I just stayed quiet, it’d fade. That people would forget.”
He pauses, glancing toward the window to watch the empty street.
“But it just got worse. I wish I did something sooner.”
Eunyung's eyebrows furrow.
“...What the hell happened?”
Haejoon doesn’t answer. Instead, he pulls out his phone, scrolling with unsteady fingers. After a short pause, he locks it again. His thumb brushes over the edge of his phone, the screen still dark.
"I was going to show you something," he says, the uneasiness in his eyes the only thing he couldn’t hide.
He bites the inside of his lip, hesitating.
“I don't even know how to explain it. And I just... can't. Not now.” Not here.
Eunyung glances at the phone, face-down on the table.
His fingers twitch slightly. For a moment, he wants to reach across and grab it. But he keeps his hands wrapped around the cup, letting the heat stifle the urge.
"Okay," he says simply.
Haejoon exhales, a shaky breath that sounds like it's been held in for days.
"I lied to everyone," he continues. "My uncle. My lecturers. Told them I was fine. That I could handle it. And now… I don’t know how to fix it."
He finally looks up.
“I haven't been to class in over a week."
Eunyung's grip tightens.
What the fuck? This is the same guy who nearly broke down a door just to avoid missing one day of class. And now he’s been gone a week?
It’s not a confession. It’s a breadcrumb. And grabbing it too fast might scare him off.
Time passes, long enough for the tea that neither of them had taken a sip from to go lukewarm.
Eunyung shifts, restless. His fingers tap against the paper cup, now forgotten. He glances at Haejoon, still staring out the window like it owes him answers.
“You can’t just sit here and rot,” Eunyung blurts, then winces at his own tone. “I mean—look, I’m not saying fix everything overnight. But you can't do nothing."
His eyes flick toward the window too, like something outside suddenly mattered.
“I’ve got a friend with a spare mattress. Or we rent a room. Doesn’t matter.”
Haejoon turns from the window. His eyebrows draw together.
"That's a little much."
Eunyung shrugs, glancing back at him. “From what I've seen... you’re barely functioning.”
He gestures vaguely with his eyes. Pointing out how crappy Haejoon looks across him.
“You're gonna end up sitting in the dark and spiraling. I know how that goes.”
Haejoon narrows his eyes, gaze lowering to the table.
Eunyung stands up, already making up his mind.
“There’s a place near the station. It's hella cheap. I used to crash there when things got bad.”
He pauses.
“I’m not asking.”
Haejoon finally looks up. There’s no fight in his eyes. Just exhaustion.
“…Fine.”
...
The room is small—just enough space for a bed, a desk, a single chair and a heater that hums with uneven warmth. Before they arrived, Eunyung had told Haejoon’s uncle that the group project is taking longer. Something about staying over with classmates.
Lied through his teeth, really. But it bought them time.
The white walls in here are stained faintly. Probably by cigarette smoke. There's a single curtained window that overlooks the street below, where streetlights cast a glow in the night. The place is cramped, sure, but quiet. Strangely comforting in a way.
Haejoon stands near the door, reluctant to step inside. He stands there for a bit too long, skimming the room with muted curiosity.
Eunyung walks past him, bumping him with a muttered “Move.”
It’s not hostile, just habit at this point. Too many times now, Haejoon’s just gone quiet like this—all unreadable and weirdly passive.
He drops his bag onto the desk and tosses the keycard there too.
“Go sit,” Eunyung says, gesturing toward the bed. “Or lie down. Whatever.”
Suddenly, he pauses, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. He tilts his head back with a sharp breath, frustration belatedly surfacing.
"...Jeez, do I 'need' to tell you to sit?"
Haejoon steps in, frowning. He doesn’t go to the bed. Instead, he sinks to the floor beside it, back against the wall. His eyes scan the room once again, then he shifts, crossing his legs.
Eunyung says nothing. He just pulls out his phone and starts scrolling half-heartedly. Every few seconds, his thumb pauses, and his eyes flick toward Haejoon. Still unmoving. Still silent on the floor.
He’d bought stuff from the convenience store earlier—two rice balls and mineral water—but Haejoon hasn’t touched them. Eunyung unwraps one and eats slowly, hoping the sound might coax Haejoon into doing the same. It doesn’t.
A car honks faintly outside. Eunyung shifts to the window out of habit. His gaze drifts, quietly watching the view outside.
A figure stands across the street near their unit, partially obscured by a lamppost. They seem to have their phone raised suspiciously—not texting, not calling. Pointed towards the building. It almost looks like it was pointed at their window.
Eunyung squints, but the figure turns and walks away before he can get a better look.
That was really off. He doesn't remember having beef with someone that moves like that. But he's got too many people he'd wronged in some way.
He turns away with a scoff, tucking the bad feeling in the back of his head.
His gaze fixes back to Haejoon, who’s now fiddling with his phone. Thumbs hover over the screen, typing something. Then deleting. Typing again. Eunyung watches while pretending not to. He recognises that motion—he'd done it numerous times when he tried to act busy.
Finally, Haejoon exhales and locks the screen.
“I was going to message my classmate,” he says quietly. “And tell him I’m coming back next week.”
Eunyung’s heart lifts—just slightly. “That’s good,” he says, keeping his tone neutral.
“I didn’t send it,” Haejoon adds, barely audible. “I don’t think I can.”
Eunyung sets his phone down. His mouth opens slightly, a question forming—but he shuts it again.
He wanted to click his tongue. Say, “Just send it.” But that probably wouldn't have helped.
He watches Haejoon for a moment longer, then decides to turn off the light instead. The room dims, leaving only the glow from the window. It softens the atmosphere and makes it easier to breathe.
Eunyung lays down on the bed, turning his back to the desk. He doesn’t say anything. His limbs grow heavy. He hadn’t realised how much the day had worn him down—how far he’d walked, how long he’d searched.
Before he knows it, his eyes slip shut.
For a long while, Haejoon doesn’t budge from the floor. He stares at the items on the desk, trying to imprint the moment for a memory he might cherish later.
Sometime in the night, Eunyung stirs awake to the sound of strange rustling. His eyes flutter open, barely, and he catches Haejoon sitting at the desk now, phone in hand.
Eunyung doesn’t move. He watches through half-lidded eyes, pretending to still be asleep. The rustling wasn’t loud, but it was enough to tell that Haejoon had just shifted. Maybe from the floor. Maybe he hadn't tried to sleep.
The screen brightness flickers as Haejoon scrolls. He’s in his messages app. Eunyung recognizes the layout from the angle. The pale bubbles, the timestamp spacing. Haejoon’s thumb hovers over a thread, then taps it open.
It was impossible to tell what the contents are, but Haejoon scrolls up conversations, searching. He rereads something. Then another. Then another. The food remains untouched on the small desk in front of him.
Eunyung shifts slightly, the blanket rustling over him, but Haejoon doesn’t react. Eventually, he sits up, rubbing his eyes like he’s just woken.
“You’re gonna burn your eyes doing that,” he mutters, squinting.
“I’m just trying to remember something good...”
Eunyung walks over with a sigh, grabbing the rice ball and setting it gently beside Haejoon’s elbow. “Eat. You’re not gonna think straight if you’re starving.”
“I’m not hungry,” Haejoon says, staring down at it briefly.
Eunyung ignores the protest and leaves the food there. Haejoon might be tempted later; it's not like the guy can starve forever.
He approaches the windows to close the curtains—but he catches a glimpse of movement. This time, the flash of a screen is unmistakable.
He stiffens.
“Hey,” he says, turning back. “Did you see someone outside earlier?”
Haejoon glances at him. “No... Why?”
Eunyung pulls the curtain closed, fast, and sits back on the bed. He stays quiet, watching Haejoon slouch forward.
The silence stretches, broken only by the occasional buzz of a car driving past the road.
Haejoon’s fingers twitch again, hovering over his phone. He opens a note app this time, typing again.
Eunyung finally speaks,
“You’ve been doing that crap all night.”
Haejoon's eyebrows furrow. “I keep thinking if I write it down, it’ll make sense. But it doesn’t.”
Eunyung shifts, sitting upright. “What doesn’t?”
“Why I've been lying.”
Eunyung lets out a dry breath that sounds strangely similar to a scoff—half a sigh. He ruffles his hair, then runs his hand through it in frustration.
He almost scoffed. Lying? That’s what this bastard was spiraling over? God, Haejoon was so painfully upright sometimes it made his head hurt. What’s the big deal? Everyone lies. You survive by lying.
Luckily, his phone buzzes again, giving him a distraction from the emotional garbage.
Immediately, Eunyung reaches for it with inappropriate enthusiasm.
He checks the notification. A message from Juwan:
“Dude, I received a dm hours ago. Someone’s asking me if I know you. Weird picture.”
Eunyung frowns and opens the image. It’s a blurry photo, grainy and zoomed in.
He squints at the photo, forefinger hovering over the screen as if it might change if he stared hard enough. The grainy pixels form a familiar outline. Two people walking in the night. It’s unmistakable. It's from the convenience store nearby.
His stomach twists, a cold weight settling in his gut.
“What the hell…” Eunyung mutters out loud.
Haejoon glances up, eyebrows arched up. “Something wrong?”
Eunyung doesn’t answer. Not yet.
He gets up, zooming in instinctively even though it’s pointless. The image is too low-resolution to reveal anything new. But the angle is all wrong. It’s not candid. It’s surveillance.
What is this? A stalker?
He didn’t have the energy for emotional spirals. But this? This was different. This was someone watching. This is worth caring about.
Eunyung’s pulse quickens. He checks the sender’s profile—private account, no posts, no mutuals. Just a blank name. In the screenshot, there was a single message: "Do you know this person?"
He types back to Juwan:
“Where did this come from?”
“Did they say anything else?”
No reply yet. Eunyung’s leg starts bouncing, a nervous tic he hasn’t noticed for years. He looks out the window again, half-expecting to see the figure from earlier still lingering. Nothing. Just the dim glow of the streetlights and the occasional blur of passing cars.
His phone buzzes again.
Juwan:
"Wait... are you being chased again? Is this another delinquent thing? What did you do this time?"
Eunyung stares at the message, lips twitching into a half-smile despite himself. Of course Juwan would jump to that. It wasn’t a bad guess.
He types back:
"No. Not me. I think it’s about Haejoon. He's in the pic."
Then another buzz.
Juwan:
"Shit. You serious? Who the hell’s watching you guys?"
Eunyung glances at Haejoon, who's barely alert.
He types back:
"I don’t know. But it’s creeping me out. I’ll update if anything happens."
Juwan:
"You better. And don’t do anything stupid. I’m not giving either of you a block of tofu."
Eunyung lets out a snicker. He initially thought he'd disliked Juwan, but this senior has been growing on him like mold. He sets the phone down in his hand, eyes drifting toward the closed curtain. The street outside is quiet now.
But he walks over to Haejoon’s desk.
“Hey.”
Haejoon slowly turns, looking tired.
Eunyung holds up his screen without saying anything else, the image opened on his phone.
Haejoon stares at it, focusing his vision on the small screen. His face doesn’t change.
“They’ve been doing that for weeks.”
Eunyung’s breath catches. “Who?”
“I don’t know. Doesn’t matter. They’re just waiting for me to mess up again.”
The words don't register at first. Eunyung looks back at the photo, then back at Haejoon.
He tilts his head as he studies Haejoon’s blank stare. Dumbfounded.
Weeks? And he said it like it was nothing.
Was this why Haejoon wanted to drop out? What else is he not saying?
Eunyung's mind scrambles for a starting point. What was he supposed to say to that?
Did he miss the signs? His eyes stay locked on Haejoon, unmoving.
If Haejoon doesn’t talk, he’ll dig. He’ll ask Juwan. He’ll check campus forums. He’ll find whoever sent that photo and get answers himself. It's annoying, but it's better than being left in the dark on purpose.
The sound of plastic rustling breaks his thoughts, and Eunyung's gaze shifts to the source.
Haejoon has finally picked up a rice ball, unwrapping it slowly with one hand. He takes a bite, eyes glancing to the side. Self-conscious and mildly shameful—perhaps feeling awkward. He rejected it earlier and now he's suddenly accepting it, hoping it won’t be mentioned.
Eunyung watches Haejoon take a bite, something loosening in his chest. He grimaces.
“Wow... See? You’re not a ghost yet.”
Haejoon lets out a breath that’s almost a laugh. “Don’t jinx it.”
Eunyung doesn’t reply. He just watches Haejoon chew slowly. Maybe peering at the message contents from behind. There was really nothing. Just casual texts with classmates. What is this guy reading them for?
The food is half-eaten now, but Haejoon's pace hasn't changed. Almost like he's stalling. His thumb scrolls over his phone. Searching.
“You gonna take all night with that?” Eunyung suddenly mutters, not quite joking.
Haejoon glances at him, then back at the rice ball. “I’m eating.”
“Yeah, like a frail old man.” He rubs his face, then gestures toward the bed with a lazy flick of his wrist. "When you’re done, you’re lying down."
Haejoon halts, his face twisting into disbelief.
Eunyung sighs. “I’m serious. You’ve been vertical for too long. It’s starting to freak me the hell out.”
Haejoon raises an eyebrow. “You want me to sleep?”
“I want you to stop looking dead inside, yeah.” Eunyung shifts to the wall nearby, dipping to the floor. “The bed's yours now."
“No—”
“Don’t care,” Eunyung cuts in, stealing a blanket from above in retaliation. "I'm not moving from this spot." He pulls the blanket over himself, curling up with his outerwear as a pillow.
Haejoon stares at Eunyung, who’s already half-buried under the blanket, one arm flung over his eyes like he’s trying to block out the world.
“You’re being dramatic,” Haejoon mutters.
“Mm-hmm,” comes the muffled reply. “And nicely horizontal. So don’t ruin it.”
For a moment, Haejoon just stares down at the floor. Then he stands up, walks over, and nudges Eunyung’s shoulder with his foot.
Eunyung grunts. “What now?”
“You’re not sleeping on the floor.”
“I’m not sleeping. I’m sulking.”
Haejoon crouches down, grabs the edge of the blanket, and tugs. Eunyung resists, gripping it tighter.
“Seriously?” Eunyung groans. “You’re gonna fight me over this?”
“You spent your whole day on this,” Haejoon says, quiet but firm. “You dragged me here. You made me eat. Now you’re sleeping on a cold floor like some martyr. It’s annoying.”
Eunyung peeks out from under the blanket, eyes narrowed. “You’re annoying.”
“Get up.”
“No.”
Haejoon doesn’t argue. He just grabs Eunyung’s arm and pulls forcefully. It's enough to make Eunyung stumble upright with a curse.
“Okay, okay!” Eunyung curses again, half-laughing. “You win. Stop manhandling me.”
Haejoon steps back, arms crossed. “Bed. Now.”
Eunyung glares at him, then flops onto the mattress with exaggerated defeat. “You’re lucky I’m too tired to fight.”
Haejoon sits back down at the desk, watching Eunyung settle in.
After a while, he picks up his phone again.
Eunyung shifts on the mattress, adjusting the blanket around his shoulders. He watches Haejoon from the corner of his eye—still perched at the desk like some stubborn statue.
The glow from a screen reflects faintly on Haejoon’s face. His eyes are tired, but still scanning. Still doomscrolling for god knows what.
Eunyung groans into the pillow. “You’re seriously gonna sit there all night?”
Haejoon doesn’t look up. “I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I said I’m fine."
Eunyung sits up abruptly, the blanket falling off his shoulders. “You’re not. You’re scrolling through dead conversations like they’re gonna restore your sanity.”
Haejoon's head lifts, finally glancing at him. “I just need—”
“Nope,” Eunyung cuts in, swinging his legs off the bed. “You need sleep."
He marches over, grabs Haejoon’s wrist without ceremony, and yanks.
Haejoon stumbles, nearly knocking over the chair. “Eunyung—”
“Shut up. You’re coming with me.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“I’m also being sleep-deprived and mentally compromised,” Eunyung snaps, dragging him toward the bed. “Get in before I throw you in.”
Haejoon’s knees hit the edge of the mattress, causing him to stagger. He straightens, glaring like he’s been personally offended.
“Lie down,” Eunyung says, pointing at a spot like a fed-up instructor. “Close your eyes. Pretend you’re a normal person for five minutes."
“You’re insane."
“And you’re exhausting,” Eunyung replies, already crawling back under the blanket. “Now shut up and sleep.”
He exhales, eyes closing as he pretends to sleep.
“If you reach for your phone, I’m chucking it out the window.”
No response.
Then Haejoon mutters, “You wouldn’t.”
Eunyung cracks one eye open. “Try me.”
He closes his eyes again, shifting closer to the wall. Perhaps making room. The space is tight.
Haejoon stands there, staring at the mattress in silence. Reluctantly, he shifts one knee on the edge, slowly crawling on top of it. Eunyung doesn’t open his eyes, but the mattress dips under the added weight.
As Haejoon lies down, their shoulders brush once—he flinches slightly, pulling away in reflex. He lies stiffly on his side, facing the other direction.
The shifting finally stops.
Eunyung slowly flips to his back, staring at the ceiling for a moment.
“You didn’t act like this with Juwan,” he says flatly.
Haejoon doesn’t respond.
“You slept next to him like it was nothing. Just knocked out like a log.”
Still nothing.
Eunyung shifts, propping himself up on one elbow. “So what is it? You trust him more? You think I’ll bite?”
Haejoon’s shoulders tense.
"I just wanna know why I’m treated like something radioactive.”
Haejoon finally speaks, barely above a whisper. “It’s not that.”
“Then what?”
Haejoon turns slightly, just enough for his voice to carry.
“With Juwan, I didn’t care how I looked. I was already struggling. He saw it.”
“But...” he hesitates. “I don’t want you to see me like that.”
Eunyung stares at him. The words are annoying.
“You think I haven’t already?” he scoffs, quieter now. His arm folds beneath him as he settles on the pillow.
Haejoon's hand moves slightly. He doesn’t speak, but his breathing shifts, quieter now.
No reply.
Eunyung turns around, hugging the wall. “You’re exhausting.”
Eventually, the mattress goes still.
...