New York Fashion Week — the loudest, busiest, most chaotic time of the year. And in the middle of it stood Felix, sharp in a dark Louis Vuitton suit, jaw clenched, heart pounding. He wasn’t nervous because of the show. He was nervous because he knew Hyunjin was here. After two years of silence.

Two years since they burned down whatever they had with one fight, one unforgettable night, and a hundred unsent messages. Hyunjin, now the head of Versace North America, was the talk of the city. Bolder. Colder. A walking piece of art. But Felix remembered the softer version — the one who wore oversized sweaters, who painted on his bedroom floor at 3 a.m., who kissed like the world was ending. He wasn’t ready to see him again. But fate didn’t care.

it happened backstage at a charity event. A surprise appearance. Felix turned a corner, and there he was — Hyunjin, in a silk black shirt unbuttoned just enough to make his heart stumble. Their eyes locked. The room quieted in Felix’s mind. Hyunjin didn’t smile. Just tilted his head, eyes unreadable. “Still wearing the same cologne.”

Felix managed a breath. “Still dramatic.” “You missed me." Felix didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.

Later that night, Felix found himself alone on the rooftop, New York buzzing beneath him. A voice cut through the wind.

“You ever regret it?” Hyunjin asked, stepping out of the shadows, cigarette between his fingers, glowing softly.

Felix didn’t look at him. “What, walking away?” “No. Not chasing me when I begged you to.”

That made him turn. Hyunjin was looking at him with glassy eyes — not angry, not bitter. Just honest.

“I wanted you to fight for us,” he whispered. “You didn’t.” “I thought you wanted space.” “I wanted you. I just didn’t know how to say it without breaking.”

Silence.