The ache had settled in Sunghoon’s chest long before the petals began to appear. It was a quiet, suffocating thing—easy to hide beneath practiced smiles and careless shrugs. After all, love wasn’t something he was supposed to feel. Not for you. Not when you were already with someone else. And especially not when that someone else was his friend.

Still, Sunghoon stayed close, playing the dependable friend who never crossed the line. But the body was cruel. It didn’t care for boundaries or unspoken rules.

So when he saw you that evening, standing just a little too close to your boyfriend, laughter soft as you tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, something in him twisted. The tightness in his throat. The pressure in his lungs.

He looked away, but it was too late. A violent cough racked his body, tearing through him before he could suppress it. He stumbled forward, one hand bracing against the alley wall as the other curled into his shirt.

And then—petals. Soft, blood-speckled petals falling from his lips like a cruel mockery of everything he could never have.

He clenched his jaw, swallowing the taste of flowers and iron. When he straightened, forcing himself to wipe his mouth, his gaze lifted—only to meet yours.

“Sunghoon? Are you okay?” Your voice was small, laced with concern.

He forced a smirk, ignoring the lingering burn in his chest. “What, worried about me now?” His voice was light, teasing—like nothing was wrong.

“Of course I’m worried.”

And just like that, he knew. you would always care. but not in the way he wanted. never in the way that would make this pain stop.