The quiet between them was deafening.
After the incident with the stage light, Min-woo was recovering at home, his leg in a heavy cast, and Eun Jae-hyung was torn between guilt and longing. It had been Jiho who pulled him aside after the hospital visit and told him, with an edge of steel in his voice, "You don't get to pretend nothing's wrong anymore."
And maybe Jiho was right.
---
MIN-WOO
I hated being stuck.
The cast itched. My muscles ached. But worse than the physical pain was the distance. Jae hadn't come by in three days. Hana had, bringing food and awkward silence. But not him.
I stared at the ceiling until the door finally creaked open.
"Hey," Jae said softly, stepping in with a bag of tangerines. "I brought snacks."
My chest tightened. "You didn't answer my texts."
"I know. I didn't know what to say."
I gestured to the chair near my bed. "Try."
He sat. "It's my fault you got hurt."
"No, it's not."
"It is," he whispered. "I froze. You didn't. You always move first. Always protect me. And I just stood there."
I shook my head. "Jae, I didn't think. I saw the light fall and my body moved. That's it."
"But what if next time, it's worse?"
"Then I'll protect you again."
He looked at me, eyes shimmering. "I hate that you always do this. That you care too much."
"Do you?"
He didn't answer.
---
JIHO
I watched them from across the hallway. I didn't mean to eavesdrop. But I also didn't leave.
Their bond was sickeningly strong. It made me feel invisible.
But not for long.
That night, I stayed late at the studio. I pulled out the old tracklists. The early ones—when it had just been me and Jae. When we didn't need anyone else. I still had the recordings. I still had the proof.
If I disappeared tomorrow, no one would remember what I built.
Unless I reminded them.
I opened a private streaming account and uploaded a demo—a version of our first song, raw and painful. Just my voice and Jae's harmony.
It went viral in hours.
---
EUN JAE-HYUNG
The next morning, the dorm buzzed with confusion. Fans were flooding social media with hashtags about the 'lost version' of Heartbeat Overdrive.
"Did you leak it?" Hana asked, eyes sharp.
"No," I said honestly. But I had a sinking feeling who did.
When I confronted Jiho, he just shrugged. "It's ours. The original. Before all the shine and polish."
"You didn't even ask."
"I didn't need to. We were the heart of this group once. Before he showed up."
"You think Min-woo's the problem?"
"I think he's your distraction."
I stormed out before I said something unforgivable.
---
MIN-WOO
Jae came back later that night. He didn't say much—just curled up on the edge of the bed, barely touching my leg.
"I'm scared," he admitted. "About everything. About Jiho. About us."
"Then let's be scared together."
He leaned his head on my shoulder. For a moment, the storm paused.
But the next day, things escalated again.
---
FULL VOLUME GROUP CHAT
Hana: Guys. We need to talk. Immediately.
Manager: Jiho didn't show up for rehearsal. Again.
Hana: And he left this on his mic stand. (Attachment: Note image)
"You'll miss me when I'm gone. Just like before."
---
MIN-WOO
I looked at Jae. "Are you okay?"
His hands trembled. "He's spiraling."
And I knew then—whatever Jiho had planned, it wasn't over.
---
FINAL SCENE
The next time we met for rehearsal, Jiho was there.
But he wasn't alone.
He had brought a camera crew.
"We're telling the real story now," he said.
Jae stepped forward. "What are you doing?"
Jiho smiled. "Leveling the volume. Yours was just too loud."