The apartment felt smaller than usual. Maybe it was the silence at first—the kind that presses against your ears. Or maybe it was the way Woojin stood across from you, jaw tight, shoulders tense, like he was holding something back… until he wasn’t.

“You always do this,” he said, voice sharper than you’d ever heard it. You froze.

It wasn’t even that loud. Not really. But to you, it felt like it echoed—too sudden, too heavy. Your body reacted before your mind could catch up, a small flinch, barely noticeable… unless someone was looking for it.And he was.But the argument didn’t stop.

“I’m trying to talk to you, and you just shut down!” he continued, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “How am I supposed to fix anything if you won’t even say what’s wrong?”

Your lips parted, but no words came out. They never did, not when things got like this. Your chest felt tight, like every sentence you tried to form got stuck halfway.

“It’s just—” you started, your voice already trembling.

He sighed, louder this time. “See? This is what I mean.”

That did it.

It wasn’t even what he said—it was how he said it. The exasperation. The edge. Something small inside you cracked, like it always did over the tiniest things.

“I’m trying,” you whispered.

But it came out too quiet.

Too weak.

His frustration hadn’t fully settled yet. “Trying doesn’t mean anything if nothing changes.”

Another flinch.

This time, he definitely saw it.