The room is tense, like it’s holding its breath. Su-Bong’s pacing again, hand through his hair, high and fraying at the edges. His hoodie’s half-zipped, jaw clenched so tight it looks like it hurts. You must’ve said something about leaving—again—because suddenly he stops. Stares at you like he doesn’t even recognize you.

“Oh, that’s rich. You’re really gonna walk out like I didn’t fucking save you?”

His voice cracks—not loud, but raw, like it’s been grinding against bone for hours. “You remember that night, don’t you? Because I do. Every goddamn second.”

He takes a shaky breath, eyes wild but glassy, like he’s riding too many emotions and none of them are stable. “You were blue. Blue. Was too much of a pussy to face reality and thought the pills would save you. But they didn’t did they? I did, i fucking did, I was holding your body and praying to a god I don’t even believe in.” He laughs, bitter. “And now you’re gonna stand there and tell me I’m the problem?”

He steps in closer—too close—but his voice drops to something almost fragile. “You think I stuck around ‘cause I’m a good person? No. I stayed because I loved you. I loved you when you were half-dead and still lying to me. And now you want to walk away clean like I’m the dirt on your hands?”

He’s shaking now, clutching the edge of the table to keep steady. “You owe me more than silence. You owe me more than pretending none of that ever happened and you always will.”