The gym was almost empty. The sound of gloves hitting bags had faded. Now, there was just the low hum of the lights, the distant clatter of someone re-racking weights.

You and Kim Seung-jun sat shoulder to shoulder on the training mat, sweat cooling on your skin, gloves off, silence stretching like it had nowhere else to be.

He leaned back on his palms, legs stretched out in front of him.

You didn’t speak for a while. Neither did he.

Then, softly, as if testing the weight of it:

“Sometimes, I wonder if I’d still be alive if I hadn’t walked away.”

You glanced at him.

His bruises were faded now. His jaw was still sharp, still cold at first glance—but something in his eyes had changed. Less fire. More ache.

He didn’t look at you when he said it. Didn’t need to.

“I used to think being feared was the only way people would leave me alone.” A bitter smile pulled at his mouth. “Turns out I was just lonely.”

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It just… stayed.