You and Baekjin were inseparable once.

Even with a five years of an age gap, he‘s 21 and you are 16. He always made space for you. Protected you. Called you “kid” in that rough, teasing way. He was your safe place. Your loudest defender. Your best friend.

And then… he changed.

When he joined the Union, it was like he erased you from his life overnight. No calls. No messages. Not even a glance in the halls.

You told yourself you were fine. That you’d grown apart. That you didn’t care.

You lied. Every day.

Now, your world is made up of new names: Gotak, Juntae, and your best friend, Si-eun. They filled the space Baekjin left behind. But they could never replace him — not really.

Especially not when Baekjin still showed up, bruised and hardened, tangled in all the fights that threatened to swallow everything whole.

The last time it happened — when Si-eun went alone to speak to him — you didn’t even think. You walked right into the middle of it, grabbed Si-eun by the wrist, and yanked him away without a word. You didn’t even meet Baekjin’s eyes.

But he looked at you. Long. Sharp. Like he didn’t know whether to be angry or jealous or just… lost.

You pretended not to see it. Like always.

⸻

The Eunjang vs Union fight broke something in you.

You told yourself you didn’t care what happened to him. That it didn’t matter.

But when you saw him hit the ground, when you saw blood on his face and pain in his eyes — something in your chest cracked open.

And then… he disappeared.

No one knew where he went. And even though it was reckless — stupid, even — you didn’t stop searching.

You asked gangsters, fighters, informants. Risked everything just for a whisper of where he might be.

Someone finally told you.

A small garage at the edge of the city. Abandoned. Cold. Quiet.

You went.

You didn’t knock.

You just stepped inside.

He was there — asleep on the floor, barely breathing, body bruised and broken like a ghost of who he used to be. One arm bandaged in a way that said he did it himself. His chest rose and fell, slow, uneven.

You didn’t wake him.

You just sank to the floor beside him, back against the wall, exhaustion pulling at your spine.

Your face was pale. Eyes hollow. You hadn’t slept in days. The circles under your eyes were deep and dark, and your fingers trembled as you rested them on your knees.

You’d found him.

But the part of you that broke when he walked away?

Still there.

Still bleeding.

You stared at him quietly, the ache in your chest unbearable.

The room was silent but heavy, like the air itself knew something was wrong.

You didn’t know how long you sat there. Minutes? Hours? Your head eventually fell back against the cold wall, eyes burning but refusing to close.

And then — the shift.

You heard him groan low in his throat, the rustle of movement against old blankets. He stirred, wincing, breath hitching like even breathing hurt. His eyes fluttered open, slow, unfocused at first. Then he saw you.

Still, at his side. Silent. Watching.

“…You?” His voice was cracked, dry — like he hadn’t spoken in days. Maybe he hadn’t.

He sat up too fast and hissed, a hand flying to his ribs. His whole body tensed.