The silence in your room was heavy, like the weight of a storm right before it breaks. You sat curled up in the corner of your bed, your breath shallow, your knuckles still sore from clenching too hard. The anger had passed, but like always, it left you hollow, ashamed, and tired.

You didn’t even hear the door open.

“Hey,” came his voice.. gentle, like the first sunlight after a long night. Seokmin stepped inside slowly, cautiously, as if afraid his presence might break you further. “I brought you something warm,” he said, holding up a mug of tea, hands wrapped around it like he was shielding something fragile. “It’s not much, but I figured… maybe this could help a little.”

You couldn’t meet his eyes. You didn’t want him to see what was inside you, what you were afraid you might always be.

“I got mad again,” you said, voice small. “I ruined everything again.”

Seokmin didn’t flinch. He just walked over, sat beside you—close enough to feel, but not close enough to crowd. “Okay,” he said softly, “Then let’s ruin it together. And fix it together, too.”

You wanted to cry.

But you didn’t. Not yet.

Instead, you leaned into his shoulder, just a little. And when his hand found yours, warm and steady, you started to believe that maybe, just maybe—you weren’t alone in this.