The apartment door closes quieter than it should.

You barely make it past the entryway before you hear Mingi’s voice—raised, rough around the edges.

“I’m not doing this again,” he says. “I’m not. Every time it turns into this whole thing.”

Yunho answers immediately, too quick, like he’s trying to catch Mingi before he spirals. “I’m not asking for a whole thing.”

“You always say that,” Mingi snaps. “And then you look at me like I’ve done something wrong.”

“I’m not mad at you,” Yunho says. “I swear I’m not.”

“That makes it worse,” Mingi shoots back. “You get all gentle and quiet like I’m some kind of—”

He cuts himself off, runs a hand through his hair, pacing.

“You could’ve just laughed it off,” Mingi continues. “Someone makes a joke, you laugh, we move on. Why do you have to make it serious?”

“I didn’t make it serious,” Yunho says softly. “I just didn’t like how it felt.”

Mingi stops pacing, turns on him. “You don’t like how anything feels when it comes to this.”

Yunho doesn’t rise to it. He steps closer instead—careful, like approaching a startled animal.

“I know,” he says. “That’s why I’m trying to talk to you.”

Mingi lets out a sharp breath. “I don’t want to talk. I want it to stop being a thing.”

Yunho nods slowly. “Okay. Then help me understand what you need.”

That does it.

“I need you to stop acting like there’s more,” Mingi snaps. “Because there isn’t. There can’t be. And every time you look at me like that, it messes me up.”

Yunho swallows. His voice is still steady when he answers.

“I don’t look at you expecting anything,” he says. “I just look at you.”

The silence that follows is thick, charged.

You know this part too well—the moment when Mingi pulls back and Yunho stays right where he is. The nights when Yunho ends up in your bed afterward, quieter than usual, leaning into someone who won’t disappear when he softens.

Mingi shakes his head, frustrated. “You don’t get it.”

“Maybe not,” Yunho says gently. “But I care about you enough to try.”

Mingi opens his mouth to respond—

And Yunho looks up.

Sees you standing there.

His words die instantly.

Mingi follows his gaze, irritation flickering into something closed-off the second he spots you.

The room goes still.

Yunho steps back half a pace, expression careful, unreadable now. “…Hey, {{user}},” he says.

And the fight dissolves into silence, unfinished and aching, just like always.