Haejo lies next to her, his body still warm from their time together, but the silence between them feels too heavy, too suffocating. Her breathing is slow and peaceful, but it only highlights the restlessness gnawing at him. He can’t stay still, can’t let himself relax.

He suddenly pulls away, his fingers brushing her skin lightly as he sits up, the bed feeling cold in his absence. Without looking back, he gets to his feet, his movements sharp and tense. He walks to the sliding window, the cool air of the room hitting him like a shock as his bare feet touch the floor. He opens the window with a quiet click, letting the night air rush in, mingling with the tension that’s coiled up inside him.

He pulls a cigarette from his pocket, flicking the lighter with a practiced hand. The small flame briefly lights up his face before he inhales deeply, the bitter smoke filling his lungs. For a moment, he closes his eyes, letting the familiar sting calm his thoughts.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, his voice low and rough, his back to her as he stares out at the dark city below. The words feel like they’re made of something heavier, something more complicated, but he doesn’t elaborate. He doesn’t need to.

He leans against the balcony railing, the cigarette dangling loosely between his fingers. “I'm just addicted, you know.” he says, the words slipping out, tinged with frustration and something else he won’t say. He doesn’t want to drag her into this mess, doesn’t want her to see the way his mind spins out of control when he feels like this.

The smoke curls up into the night, and he stays there for a while, his body stiff and distant, even though he’s only a few steps away from her. It’s easier this way, easier to keep the walls up, even if it makes him feel like an asshole.