MINWOO
He stood just beyond the hallway corner, unseen.
From here, he could hear the laughter.
The easy, low kind that came from Jae-hyun when he was relaxed—when he felt safe.
Only this time, it wasn't his presence that made Jae laugh.
It was Jiho.
Minwoo's fingers curled against the wall.
He should walk away. He'd told himself that a hundred times. But each time, some small hope dragged him back.
Some foolish part of him believed that if he just looked hard enough, he'd see it.
A flicker of recognition.
A glance that held weight.
A pause.
But Jae-hyun didn't glance toward the hallway.
He leaned closer to Jiho and asked about the song they used to perform. The one they debuted with two years ago.
And Jiho smiled. Lied effortlessly.
"Yeah," he said. "That was ours."
Minwoo's stomach twisted.
That was his song.
The melody had come from his room at 2 a.m., from his voice raw with longing, and from Jae-hyun sitting beside him on the floor, singing into a pillow because they were too close to the walls to be loud.
Now it belonged to someone else.
Or maybe it never belonged to him at all.
---
JAE-HYUN
He stared at the mirror in the practice room.
His reflection looked... tired. Worn out. Haunted.
He couldn't explain it.
Everyone said Jiho was his boyfriend. That they'd been together before the accident. And Jiho was kind—gentle in a way that made him feel safe, like touching glass without getting cut.
But sometimes, late at night, Jae-hyun would lie awake and feel like he was trying to wear someone else's clothes. Like something didn't fit.
Jiho would run his fingers through his hair. Press kisses to the side of his head. And Jae-hyun would smile, nod, go along with it—
Because what else was he supposed to do?
But in his dreams, he saw someone else.
A hoodie too big.
Eyes too sharp and soft at the same time.
A voice that rasped when it said his name.
He never saw the face clearly.
But he always woke up crying.
---
The next time he returned to the practice studio, the walls felt different.
Off. Like they were holding their breath.
Jiho had gone to get coffee, leaving him alone. Jae-hyun stood in the center of the room, looking at the mic stand like it was a stranger.
And then—
A voice spoke behind him.
"Funny. I remember when this was your safe place."
He turned.
The boy in the doorway had dark circles under his eyes. He looked thinner. Tired. His hand still clutched a walking stick loosely, though his posture said he was trying to hide how much it hurt.
Jae-hyun stared.
There was something achingly familiar in that face.
"…Do I know you?"
The boy swallowed.
"Yeah. You used to know me better than anyone."
Jae-hyun blinked. "What's your name?"
The boy's voice cracked.
"Minwoo."
The name did nothing.
Jae-hyun's expression didn't change.
Minwoo took a step closer.
"You once said my voice was your favorite sound in the world."
"I'm sorry," Jae-hyun said softly. "I don't… remember."
Minwoo's mouth trembled.
He reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a torn photo. He handed it over without explanation.
Jae-hyun took it.
Two boys. One grinning. The other—him—resting his head on the other's shoulder. They looked so close. So real.
He flipped it over.
A lyric written in rushed handwriting:
> "If you leave, take the silence with you."
Something in his chest twitched.
"…Where was this taken?" Jae-hyun asked.
Minwoo didn't answer right away. His eyes stayed locked on him, pleading. Silent.
"I was going to ask you that," Minwoo finally said. "I was hoping you'd tell me."
Silence hung between them.
Jae-hyun took a step back.
"I'm sorry," he whispered again. "I think… you have the wrong person."
That did it.
Minwoo's jaw clenched.
He took one deep breath—and then the dam broke.
---
"How can you look at me," Minwoo whispered, voice shaking, "and pretend like I'm someone you've never met?"
Jae-hyun looked up sharply.
Minwoo stepped forward. "Do you know what it's like? To love someone so much, your whole life rearranges around them—and then one day, they look at you like you're a stranger?"
"Please—" Jae-hyun stepped back. "I don't—"
"I'm not asking you to remember everything," Minwoo said. "But feel something. Anything."
"I do feel something," Jae-hyun snapped, tears burning in his eyes. "I don't know what it is, but every time I look at you, it hurts."
Minwoo's voice cracked. "Because you loved me."
Jae-hyun shook his head, trembling. "No—I love Jiho."
"No," Minwoo said quietly. "You love the memory Jiho gave you. But you loved me."
---
The door opened.
Jiho walked in, holding two coffee cups.
The look on his face when he saw them—too close, too vulnerable—was pure panic.
"What's going on?" he asked sharply.
Jae-hyun turned to him like a lifeline. "He says… we used to be together."
Jiho didn't look at Minwoo.
He lied smoothly. "He's confused. He's always had trouble accepting that we were something first."
Minwoo's breath caught.
Jae-hyun looked between them. "Is that true?"
Jiho nodded without blinking. "He was jealous. Before the accident. He thought he had a chance."
Minwoo looked like he'd been slapped.
"I held your hand the night before your first performance," he said to Jae-hyun. "You kissed me behind the speaker wall after the bridge."
Jae-hyun touched his lips.
"Stop," Jiho said sharply. "He's manipulating you."
"No," Minwoo whispered. "I'm reminding him."
---
Jae-hyun turned away from both of them.
"I need to think," he said softly. "Please."
Neither boy moved.
"Please," he said louder.
Finally, Minwoo turned first. He limped out of the room, shoulders shaking.
Jiho stayed behind.
He didn't speak.
Jae-hyun stared at the picture in his hand again.
He was smiling in it.
But not like the way he smiled with Jiho now.
There was something raw in that photo.
Unfiltered.
Honest.
Like home.
---
That Night – MINWOO
He sat on the rooftop of the old studio, knees pulled to his chest, hoodie wrapped tight around him. His phone buzzed with unread messages.
He didn't answer any.
He stared at the stars and whispered to no one:
> "If you're really gone, Jae… please forget me completely.
Don't love me halfway."
---
That Night – JAE-HYUN
He couldn't sleep.
He replayed everything Minwoo said again and again.
And when he finally reached for his phone, fingers shaking, he typed the name into his camera roll:
Minwoo.
Photos came up.
So many.
Videos. Laughing. Singing.
One selfie of them under a blanket fort.
A voice note: "Minwoo, you better not delete this—"
His breath caught.
His fingers hovered.
He pressed play.
> "I think I'm in love with you."
His own voice.
To Minwoo.
In the dark.
Raw.
Unmistakable.
He dropped the phone.
He remembered.