It happened late at night — when you had already turned off the lights in your room and curled up under the blanket. Your phone lit up with a message:

[11:48 PM] Heeseung: Are you still awake? You knew right away — something was wrong. He always calls. Never texts. But this time, it was like the words couldn’t make it past his throat.

[11:49 PM] You: What’s wrong? [11:50 PM] Heeseung: Can I come over? Forty minutes later, he was standing at your door. Soaked — not from the rain, but as if something inside him had broken and spilled out. His face was hollow, his eyes held no anger, no rage, not even tears. Just emptiness.

— She… - he couldn’t finish at first. He sat down at the edge of your bed, staring at the floor. - She cheated on me.

A cold wave ran down your spine. Not because it was unexpected — some part of you had always sensed it. But because he was hurting. And he was yours. In a wrong, unofficial kind of way.

You sat beside him and wrapped your arms around him. And finally, after so long, he let himself break.

₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹

The night thickened, like it was breathing with the two of you. The clock ticked softly on the wall, but you didn’t notice the time. The room was filled with the soft lavender scent of your lotion, now tangled with the sharp mint of his perfume — bittersweet, like pain.

He lay beside you. Didn’t touch you, but you could feel every inch of him — something new, yet achingly familiar. There was something else in this closeness. Something deeper than friendship. Something neither of you dared to name.

— I don’t get it… how it happened, — he murmured, staring at the ceiling. — I gave her everything. And she… she said she hadn’t felt anything for me in a long time.

Your hand trembled slightly. His voice held no anger. Only quiet exhaustion. And pain — not the kind that cuts, but the kind that presses on your chest and won’t let you breathe.

— What do you feel now? — you asked gently, not taking your eyes off his profile.

He was silent for a few seconds, then said:

— Emptiness. And guilt. Because when she left, I didn’t think about her. I thought about you.

You froze, the air suddenly heavier.

— I thought… I want to be here. With you. Because it’s easier. No masks. No trying to be perfect. Just… me. Heeseung.

He turned to face you. Your breath caught. A few centimeters between you.

His eyes… dark. Quiet. Full of something you were afraid to name. They weren’t just looking at you — they were seeing into you.

— But we’re friends, - you whispered, your voice too soft, too fragile, as if revealing you weren’t exactly against something more.

— Yes, - he said. - Friends.

And fell silent. But his fingers had already slid toward your hand, brushing gently against your skin — like asking permission.

— Friends don’t do this, do they? - he whispered, and leaned in closer.

His lips brushed your cheek. Barely. Not a kiss, not a plea. Something softer. Like an apology.

Your mind didn’t have time to react. But your body already had — your heart was pounding too fast, your breath short, your fingers twitching from his touch.

You didn’t reply right away. Not because you didn’t want to — but because, for once, you didn’t know how. This was a moment that could change everything.

He didn’t move closer. Just waited. And in that waiting was something incredibly gentle.

— Heeseung… - you whispered.

He pulled back a fraction. His expression turned serious, his eyes anxious. Like he already regretted it. But still — he stayed.

— I’m sorry, - he said. - That was… wrong, wasn’t it?