After leaving Chairman Jang's office, Minjae and Jiho stopped by the pool.
The sky had already painted itself in deep purples and oranges by the time Jiho and Minjae found themselves standing on the quiet pedestrian bridge, just a stone's throw from Jiho's neighborhood. Evening air danced through the trees above them, while streetlights began their nightly ritual of flickering awake like drowsy fireflies stretching after a long sleep.
Jiho pressed his back against the cool metal railing, his gaze lost somewhere in the gentle shimmer of water far below.
"You really didn't have to say all that stuff to Chairman Jang..." His voice barely rose above a whisper, eyes refusing to meet Minjae's. "I don't need Hyunwoo's apology. And I definitely don't need his money."
Minjae let out a sharp breath beside him. "Well, I do. I need him to apologize to you—publicly, properly. Otherwise, I swear I'll beat the living hell out of him."
Jiho's eyes went wide. "Minjae—"
"No." Minjae's jaw clenched tight enough to crack teeth. "How dare he put his hands on you like that? Humiliating you in front of everyone. And here you are, acting like it's nothing"
"I'm okay," Jiho mumbled, wrapping his arms around himself like a shield. "I'm used to this kind of thing..."
Minjae whipped around to face him, disbelief written across every feature. "Oh, really? Well, I'm not." His voice cracked just slightly. "I'll never get used to watching someone I care about get torn apart while pretending they deserved it."
Jiho blinked slowly. "Minjae..."
The silence stretched between them like a held breath. Then Jiho tilted his head, curiosity creeping into his voice. "By the way... why do you hate Hyunwoo so much? And that Soobin hyung… who is he to you?"
Minjae's entire body went rigid. "It's nothing."
Jiho's eyes narrowed to slits. "Nothing? Really?"
When Minjae stayed stubbornly silent, Jiho stepped away from the railing and spun around, presenting his back like a wall.
"Fine! Don't tell me then! I don't want to talk to you either. I'm going home. Goodbye!"
He stomped down the sidewalk, his pout growing more dramatic with each step. Minjae stood frozen for exactly three seconds before a grin spread across his face.
"Aww, baby, you're absolutely adorable when you're mad."
"I SAID I'm not talking to you!" Jiho shouted without so much as a glance backward.
Minjae jogged to catch up, then had the audacity to walk backwards in front of him. "Okay, okay! Don't talk to me. But let me crash at your place tonight. Look—it's already dark. I'm way too tired to drag myself home."
Jiho's glare could have melted steel. "No."
"Pleaaase, Jihoya~" Minjae dropped to his knees dramatically, hands clasped together like he was praying to the gods themselves. "Just one night! I'll sleep on the floor, I promise!"
Jiho opened his mouth to protest again when the front door of his house creaked open like it had been waiting for this exact moment.
"Minjae-ah?" Jiho's mom peeked out, her face lighting up with genuine warmth. "You're here! Don't just stand there in the cold, come inside. I was about to reheat dinner."
The color drained from Jiho's face in pure horror. "Mom—!"
"Oh, nonsense," she said, already ushering them both through the doorway before Jiho could mount any defense.
---
Dinnertime
The tiny apartment wrapped around them like a warm hug, filled with the rich scents of kimchi stew and toasted sesame oil. Jiho's mom hummed something soft and familiar while bustling around the cramped kitchen, setting out extra bowls like she'd been expecting company all along.
Minjae slid into his chair like he'd been eating at this table his whole life. "Ah, home-cooked food. This is what heaven smells like."
Jiho slumped across from him, arms crossed in defeat. "You totally manipulated my mom."
"I did not," Minjae said, grinning so wide it should have been illegal. "She just has excellent taste in people."
Jiho rolled his eyes, but the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth betrayed him completely.
As dinner unfolded, Minjae praised every single dish with the enthusiasm of a food critic discovering fire. Jiho's mom practically glowed under the attention, piling more and more food onto Minjae's plate until it looked like a small mountain. Jiho could only watch in amazement as his mother basically adopted Minjae right there at the dinner table.
Halfway through the meal, Jiho scowled as Minjae's chopsticks darted across the table like a sneaky bird, stealing a perfect piece of his tofu.
"Hey! Get your own!"
"But yours looks so much better!" Minjae grinned, dodging Jiho's halfhearted swipe with practiced ease.
Jiho's mom chuckled softly from her seat. "You two bicker like you've been married for twenty years."
"MOM!" Jiho's face turned approximately seventeen shades of red.
Minjae raised his eyebrows with theatrical flair. "I mean, we do have incredible chemistry."
"Shut up and eat your stupid tofu," Jiho muttered, shoving rice into his mouth to hide his smile.
Later, elbow-deep in soapy dishwater, Jiho found himself laughing—really, truly laughing. Minjae flicked droplets at his cheek, and Jiho retaliated with a proper splash that sent water flying everywhere. For these stolen moments, all the tension melted away like sugar in rain, replaced by something warm and safe and real.
And maybe, just maybe, Jiho allowed himself to believe that everything might actually turn out okay.
---
Breaking Point by the Shore
Morning light filtered through sheer curtains like liquid gold, painting pale stripes across the quiet room. Hyunwoo hadn't slept—not even for a minute. He'd been glued to the same spot for hours, curled up on the small sofa by the window, knees drawn to his chest, Soobin's cardigan wrapped around his shoulders like armor he didn't deserve to wear.
Behind him, the bed stirred with life.
A soft yawn broke the fragile silence, followed by the gentle rustle of sheets being pushed aside.
"Hyunwoo-ah?" Soobin's voice was thick with sleep but warm as honey. "Why aren't you in bed?"
Hyunwoo said nothing.
A pause hung in the air. Then the mattress creaked as Soobin slipped out of bed and padded across the floor on bare feet. He crouched beside the couch, resting his chin on the armrest, blinking away the last traces of sleep.
"You okay?"
"I'm fine."
"You didn't sleep."
"Didn't need to."
Without thinking, Soobin reached out and brushed a strand of hair away from Hyunwoo's forehead. His touch was feather-light, hesitant—like he was afraid of being pushed away again.
Soobin's voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "I heard you talking to Hyejin last night."
Every muscle in Hyunwoo's body went tense.
"Why are you listening to her? Please... just tell me," Soobin asked, his words gentle as a prayer.
Hyunwoo finally turned to face him. His eyes were bloodshot, rimmed with exhaustion and something much darker...
"She has the video," he said, his voice flat as concrete. "The one you erased."
He paused, swallowing hard. "She gave it to my father."
Soobin nodded slowly. "I know. And your father must be furious right now."
Hyunwoo's eyes sharpened. "How did you know that?"
Soobin hesitated, then let out a long sigh. "When she called you Last time... I accidentally answered ."
Hyunwoo's face went completely still. "What? But hyung—why didn't you tell me? Why hide it?"
"Because of your father, obviously," Soobin said, his voice climbing slightly. "I know exactly what kind of man he is. I know what he'll do to you. I just... I wanted to protect you. That's all I ever want."
Something snapped behind Hyunwoo's eyes. He shot to his feet, shrugging off the cardigan and letting it fall to the couch like a discarded promise. Then he ran—bolting through the door, down the hallway, straight toward the endless sea.
"Hyunwoo!" Soobin's voice cracked as he chased after him.
The wind hit them like a slap when they reached the shoreline, waves crashing against the rocks with violent beauty.
"Please," Soobin gasped, finally catching up. "Please, just listen to me! I know you're falling apart—I can see how much you're hurting."
Hyunwoo kept his back turned, shoulders shaking.
"But you still have a choice," Soobin continued, breathing hard. "You can apologize to Jiho and Minjae. You can make this right."
Hyunwoo stared down at his hands like they belonged to someone else. "I don't think I get to choose anything anymore."
"No." Soobin's voice cut through the morning air like a blade. "That's not true."
He stood straighter now, pacing back and forth on the sand—barefoot, furious, alive with desperate energy.
"You're not some helpless victim, Hyunwoo. You're not powerless. You still get to decide what happens next."
Hyunwoo said nothing.
"You hurt people," Soobin said, his voice starting to crack at the edges. "You hurt me. And I still stayed. Not because I'm an idiot, but because I know you're not the monster you pretend to be."
Hyunwoo looked up slowly. "Hyung—"
"I'm not finished."
His hands were clenched into fists now, trembling like leaves in a storm. "You push me away every single time I try to get close. You hide behind all that anger and guilt and that damn emotionless mask. But I see you. I see the boy who used to sneak into my room in the middle of the night because the nightmares were too much to handle alone."
Tears began to well in Soobin's eyes, making them shine like broken glass. "What happened to that boy? The one who trusted me enough to fall asleep in my arms?"
Hyunwoo closed his eyes tight. "He died."
"No, he didn't. He's right here." Soobin stepped closer, his voice going soft again. "Buried under years and years of pain and shame and silence. But he's still here, still breathing. You just have to stop running from him."
For what felt like an eternity, neither of them moved.
Then, acting on pure instinct, Soobin wrapped his arms around Hyunwoo's shoulders from behind—gentle as a whispered promise.
Hyunwoo flinched like he'd been burned. But slowly, so slowly, the tension began to drain from his body. His fingers reached up to clutch at Soobin's wrist like it was the only thing keeping him from drowning.
"I'm scared," he whispered, the words barely audible over the waves.
"I know," Soobin whispered back. "Me too. But we'll figure it out together."
Soobin held him tighter, and Hyunwoo finally let himself lean back into the warmth, their silhouettes pressed together under the golden morning light like two pieces of a broken whole trying to become complete again.
But peace was never meant to last.
The sound of car doors slamming cut through the air like gunshots. A convoy of black cars had appeared by the shore as if materializing from a nightmare. Polished shoes hit gravel with military precision. Secretary Park emerged first, flanked by stone-faced bodyguards.
"Young master," he said with formal urgency that made the morning feel suddenly cold, "you need to come home. Right now."
The bodyguards moved forward like a wall.
"Wait—no!" Hyunwoo tried to push them away, tried to run again—but it was useless. They grabbed him with practiced efficiency, holding him firmly by both arms.
Soobin lunged forward, desperation making him reckless. "Let him go! You can't just drag him away like this!"
But Secretary Park stepped between them quickly. "Mr. Soobin—please. Don't make this harder than it has to be. I know you want to protect him. But you understand how this works. The more you fight, the worse Chairman Jang will make it for him."
The breath caught in Soobin's throat like a trapped bird.
"I promise you," Secretary Park added, his voice gentler now, "the young master will be safe. Just let us take him home."
Hyunwoo's face had gone pale as morning mist. Exhaustion lined every feature. His eyes, red-rimmed and burning, found Soobin's—half shattered, half clinging to hope.
"If I apologize to Jiho," he said quietly, his voice barely carrying over the wind, "and fix everything that's broken... promise me, hyung—will you come back here with me?"
Soobin's lips trembled, but he managed to smile through the tears threatening to spill over.
"Yes. Of course I will."
The bodyguards began leading Hyunwoo away, their footsteps echoing against the morning. Soobin watched helplessly, his hands clenched into useless fists at his sides.
The sea roared its ancient song behind them.
And the sky, once painted in gold, slowly faded to ash.
---