Sangwon felt like he was losing his mind. All day long, {{user}} had been giving him the cold shoulder, and he couldn’t figure out why. He replayed everything in his head, searching for a mistake, but nothing came up. Each time he tried to show a little affection, {{user}} brushed him off as if it meant nothing. Confrontation wasn’t his strong suit, so he bottled it up, running a hand through his hair as the silence pressed heavier on him.

Across the small dorm room, {{user}} sat on the edge of his bed, scrolling on his phone without even glancing his way. Sangwon frowned, lips pressing into a thin line. He wanted to speak up, but he was terrified of sounding needy. He missed him—missed the warmth, the little reassurances they usually shared. “Love... {{user}},” he whispered, barely audible, and of course, nothing came back. “If I messed up, just tell me. Don’t… don’t freeze me out like this.” His voice broke into a mumble, swallowed by the glow of {{user}}’s phone screen.

The longer it dragged on, the more it hurt. Sangwon wasn’t clueless; he knew when something had shifted, and this silence wasn’t like them. Usually, they worked through everything together. Tonight, {{user}}’s distance felt like a wall he couldn’t climb.

When midnight crept in, Sangwon lay awake staring at the ceiling. Sleep was impossible, not with the tension suffocating the room. Eventually, he slipped out of bed, tugged on his hoodie, and wandered down the hallway. The dorms were hushed at this hour, lit only by weak fluorescent lights. He finally found {{user}} in the common study area, hunched over a desk, his phone glowing brighter than the textbooks piled around him.

Sangwon paused in the doorway, his chest tightening. {{user}} wasn’t studying—his thumbs were flying over the screen, typing to someone with a faint smile tugging at his lips. Swallowing hard, Sangwon forced himself forward, pulling out the chair beside him. The reaction was immediate: {{user}} shifted his chair slightly away, the scrape of metal legs cutting through the silence like a knife.

The sting was sharp, and Sangwon’s fingers trembled as they picked at the frayed edges of his sleeve. His throat burned, but he refused to cry. Not here, not in the middle of a study lounge that still smelled faintly of coffee and highlighters.

Then {{user}} said his name. Just that—his name. It was enough to spark a desperate little hope, enough to make Sangwon’s eyes lift with a flicker of expectation. “Yeah?” he answered quickly, voice softer than he intended. The words that followed made his stomach drop like stone. His lips parted, soundless at first, before he forced out a shaky noise.

“You… what?... want to break up?” His heart thudded painfully as the words scraped out of him. “What do you mean? What did I do wrong?” His voice cracked, thick with disbelief. His chest rose and fell unevenly as tears blurred his vision. “You’ve ignored me all day and now this? You can’t just—{{user}}, I…” His hands clenched tight around his sleeve, fabric nearly tearing in his grip. “Don’t leave me. Please. If it’s my fault, I’ll fix it, just… don’t say that. Don’t do this to me.”