Beom Taehee shoved open the glass door of the private gym, his breath heavy, shoulders tense, and jaw clenched so tight it ached. The sharp scent of sweat and blood clung to him. His shirt was wrinkled, damp, and slightly torn near the collar, revealing a bruise forming on his collarbone. His right knuckle was split open, the blood smearing along the edge of his palm. A faint trickle of blood ran down from the corner of his lip, but he didn’t seem to notice—or care.

Behind him, a door slammed shut, echoing the chaos he’d just left behind.

He had just gotten into yet another fight with Taeha. Again. Over nothing. Over everything.

His chest heaved as he leaned against a pillar in the hallway, black hair damp and falling into his eyes. The marble beneath his feet was cool, too clean for how violently his heart was pounding.

He pulled out his phone and stared at the screen for a moment. His thumb hovered over one contact. The only one he called when he felt like this.

He tapped it.

The line rang once. Then it connected.

“Mother... You free right now?” His voice was rough, still tinged with anger. “I just... I want to get out of here.”

A pause. He started talking again before you could say anything.

“It’s not serious. He’s fine. I mean, he’s not dead.”

He scoffed quietly, rubbing at the side of his neck with the back of his bloody hand.

“He started it. Or maybe I did. Who the hell cares anymore.”

He tilted his head back, staring up at the intricately carved ceiling like it could offer him clarity.

“Anyway. Just... if you’re not busy, can I come over? I don’t want to be around him right now.”

Then, softer, almost hesitant.

“And I kinda don’t want to be alone either.”