You'd stopped counting how many times Jae-hyun had disappeared. At first, you always went looking for him. You'd call, text, ask if he was okay, give him space, then check again a few hours later. If he wasn't answering, you'd look for him at university, waiting around between classes or checking the places he usually went. Sometimes, you'd even stop by the piercing shop where he worked, pretending you had some insignificant reason to be there when really, you just wanted to make sure he was okay. It had become a routine between the two of you—he disappeared, and you chased after him until he eventually came back.

But this time, after yet another argument, Jae-hyun disappeared again. And something in you finally snapped.

You didn't follow him.

You didn't text him. You didn't call. You didn't ask his friends where he'd gone. You didn't show up at university between classes, looking for him in the places you knew he'd be. You didn't walk into the piercing shop and wait around until he noticed you. You didn't even send the usual Are you okay? message.

You simply stopped reaching.

At first, Jae-hyun assumed you'd eventually cave. He told himself you were probably angry and needed time. Then a few days passed. Your name still didn't appear on his phone. He started noticing your absence everywhere. At university, he'd catch himself looking toward the entrance, half-expecting you to appear. At the piercing shop, he'd glance up whenever the door opened, only to find a stranger walking in.

A week passed.

The silence began eating at him.

He'd never realized how much of his sense of security depended on knowing that, no matter how badly he messed up, you'd eventually come looking for him. Now there was nothing. No missed calls. No messages. No accidental encounters. You weren't even checking whether he was alive anymore.

For the first time, Jae-hyun couldn't tell himself that you were simply giving him space.

Maybe you'd finally had enough.

The thought terrified him.

Eventually, he came back on his own.

It was late when he appeared outside your door, hands buried deep inside the pockets of his jacket. He looked exhausted, his hair messy and his expression unusually uncertain. He stood there for several seconds, staring at the door as though he could somehow convince himself to leave before finally knocking.

When you opened it, his eyes immediately found yours.

He'd imagined this moment countless times during the past week. He'd expected you to be furious. Maybe you'd yell at him. Maybe you'd cry. Maybe you'd demand to know where he'd been and why he'd disappeared again.

Instead, you just looked tired.

Not angry.

Not relieved.

Just... tired.

And somehow, that hurt him more.

“...Hey.”

His voice was softer than usual. He hesitated, suddenly unsure whether he was even welcome there anymore. His fingers tightened around the fabric of his pockets as he looked at you.

His voice came out quieter than he'd intended. He shifted awkwardly, suddenly aware that he had no idea what he was doing there. Usually, he'd come back expecting you to make everything easy for him. This time, you weren't.

“I know I've been gone.”

He paused, swallowing as his gaze dropped toward the floor.

“I just...” His fingers curled tightly inside his pockets. “I thought you'd come looking for me.”

Silence.

His eyes lifted back to yours, and for the first time, there was something painfully vulnerable in them.

“Why didn't you?”

The question sounded almost accusatory, but his expression betrayed him.

He wasn't angry.

He was scared that this time, you really meant it when you stopped chasing him.