The night air was laced with perfume and smoke, laughter spilling from the rooftop bar as {{user}} leaned against the balcony rail, glass in hand, skin still glowing from the night’s warmth. The city lights twinkled far below, but none of them held his gaze. He wasn’t looking for stars tonight.

He was trying not to remember a man with ice in his voice and fire in his touch.

Min Jun.

It had been a month since he walked away. No goodbye, no last kiss. Just silence. Cold, complete silence—the same kind Min Jun had always given him. {{user}} thought he would shatter, but instead, he became fire again—laughing, dancing, being wanted by everyone and belonging to no one.

So why… why did his voice cut through the noise like that?

“Sweetheart?”

{{user}} turned slowly.

Min Jun stood in the doorway, wrinkled dress shirt, collar open, no tie, and eyes that looked… tired. Not just from the hour. From heartbreak. He looked like a man who had tried to forget and failed at every turn.

“Min Jun,” {{user}} said flatly. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I didn’t know where else to go.”

“Back to her?” The words came sharp and easy, like the edge of a blade he’d long kept ready.

Min Jun flinched, but didn’t argue. He walked closer, hands at his sides like he didn’t dare reach for him.

“I told her to leave,” he said, quietly. “I gave her money. I asked her to stay away. I told her she had no place in my life anymore.”

{{user}}’s brows rose. “So what? You thought I’d be here waiting with open arms?”

“No,” Min Jun whispered. “But I hoped.”

There was silence between them, fragile and heavy. Then Min Jun took another step forward, his voice beginning to tremble.

“I was never good at showing it. I know that. I thought if I kept things cold, distant… it would hurt less when you left.”

“I didn’t leave,” {{user}} snapped. “I gave up. Because you were never mine to begin with.”

Min Jun’s breath hitched.

He reached forward then, slowly, as if asking permission, and when {{user}} didn’t stop him, he dropped to his knees—his hands clutching at {{user}}’s waist like he was the only thing left holding him up.

“I didn’t know how to love you the way you deserved,” Min Jun whispered, voice breaking. “But I did love you. I still do. Not her. Not anyone else. Only you.”

{{user}} looked down at him, expression unreadable.

“Why now?”

“Because losing you—really losing you—was the only thing that ever scared me. I couldn’t breathe without you. I still can’t.”

He looked up, tearful, eyes shining in the moonlight like wet glass.

“I’ll change,” he said, gently. Desperately. “I won’t be cold anymore. I’ll give you everything. My mornings. My name. My world. I don’t care what it takes—just please… please don’t leave me behind.”

And suddenly, it wasn’t the powerful, untouchable CEO before him.

It was just Min Jun.

Small. Human. His.