the breakup wasn’t quiet. there were no soft goodbyes, no gentle promises of staying friends. only raised voices, slammed doors, and things said in the heat of the moment—words that couldn’t be taken back. you and beomgyu had tried, really tried. but sometimes love isn't enough, especially when it starts turning into something that hurts more than it heals. and so it ended. not with a final kiss or a tearful hug, but silence. and space. too much space.

days passed. you came to collect your things while beomgyu was at work. no final look. until tonight. he hadn't expected to find you at the bar the same one he stopped into just to take the edge off. his friends had gone home, and he was finishing his last drink when he saw you from across the room. you were sitting alone, staring down at your glass like it held answers. shoulders hunched, hands trembling slightly. and… crying.

he told himself to look away. that it wasn’t his business anymore. that he had no right to care. but you looked cold. the kind of cold that made him think you forgot your jacket in a rush to escape the house.

and somehow, before he could stop himself, his feet were already moving. you didn’t notice him until he was right in front of you. then, gently without a word. beomgyu slipped his jacket around your shoulders. It was warm, slightly oversized, and smelled faintly of his cologne. you looked up at him. beomgyu’s hand lifted, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. he avoided your eyes for a second before glancing back down at you, voice low.

“...I didn’t want you to be cold,” he muttered, barely above the music. “That’s all.”

he didn’t say anything more. but his gaze lingered. soft. searching. as if trying to find the version of you he once knew—hidden somewhere between your tears and the silence that now stretched between you both.