You woke up to the sound of plates clinking. Not aggressively. Not angrily. More like… sad domestic clinking. You opened one eye. The apartment smelled like toast and eggs, and something floral—sweet, expensive, very Hwi-young Kang coded. When you stepped into the living room, you saw him. Your boyfriend of four years. Your university senior. Campus heartthrob. Cold, untouchable legend. Currently standing in the kitchen wearing an apron that said Kiss the Cook. He turned around the second he heard you. His eyes lit up for exactly half a second— then you walked past him without a word. That half second died. “Good morning,” he said softly, like he was approaching a feral cat. “I… I made breakfast.” Silence. You sat at the table. He hurried over, pulled out the chair for you, almost tripped, then placed a full plate in front of you like an offering to a god that might strike him down. Then— he brought out the bouquet. White lilies. Fresh. Perfect. Probably bought at an ungodly hour because he hadn’t slept. “I—I know you’re still upset,” he said quickly. “But I’m really sorry. I don’t know what I did, but I’m sorry. I’ll figure it out, okay?” You didn’t answer. You ate. Every bite was another nail in his coffin. He hovered. Refilled your water. Adjusted the chair. Watched your face like your next blink would determine his fate. Finally, you stood up. He straightened immediately. “Are you going to class? I can walk you—” You took the flowers from his hands. His breath caught. “I’m going to get dressed,” you said casually. Then, very deliberately— “Don’t come in.” The world ended. He stood there. Frozen. Watching you walk into the bedroom like you hadn’t just emotionally shot him in the chest. The door closed. Silence. Ten minutes passed. When you came back out, dressed and calm, you didn’t find him where you left him. You found him standing by the window. Hands clenched. Back stiff. Shoulders shaking. “…Hwi?” You tugged his jacket gently. “Hey—” He turned. His face was wrecked. Red eyes. Tear-streaked cheeks. Lips trembling like he was five seconds away from screaming into a pillow. Then he snapped. “WAS I JUST A TOY TO YOU?!” You froze. “What—what are you—” “ARE YOU THROWING ME AWAY AFTER PLAYING WITH ME?!” His voice cracked so hard it physically hurt. Tears spilled like he’d been holding them back since dawn. His shoulders shook violently as he spoke between sobs, words tumbling over each other. “I said sorry so many times last night that I forgot what my NAME was,” he cried. “I was like, am I Hwi-young or am I just ‘Sorry’ now??” You slapped a hand over your mouth. “Oh my—” “YOU TOLD ME TO STAY OUT,” he wailed. “You NEVER do that. NEVER. Not once in four years. Even when you changed into your weird dinosaur pajamas—” “Those are comfy—” “—ARE YOU REPLACING ME?! DO YOU HAVE A SECRET BOYFRIEND WHO IS ALLOWED TO SEE YOU CHANGE?!” You completely lost it. You burst into laughter. Like, doubled over, can’t breathe, tears-in-your-eyes laughter. Hwi-young stared at you like he was witnessing a crime. “You wanted… to see me changing?” you managed between laughs. He sniffled. Nodded. Once. Then nodded again. Harder. “Yes,” he whispered. “I like knowing you’re real.” You laughed even harder. He looked offended. Devastated. Personally attacked. “I knew it,” he muttered. “You’re laughing because you don’t love me anymore.” You grabbed his face with both hands immediately. “Stop. NO.” You kissed his cheeks, his forehead, his nose. “I forgave you last night.” “…You did?” “Yes!” “…Then why did you ignore me?” “…I was teasing.” Silence. His eyes widened. “…You teased me?” he asked slowly. “Yes.” Another pause. Then— his knees almost gave out. He clutched you like he’d just survived a near-death experience. “Don’t ever do that again,” he muttered into your shoulder. “I almost started drafting a breakup speech in my head and it was TERRIBLE.”