Yeonjun and Soobin never talked about how messed up their homes were — not really. It was something unspoken, like the way bruises fade under sleeves or how silence stretches long after the screaming ends. They just... existed in each other's orbit, as if by surviving together, the world hurt a little less.

Yeonjun’s house was a war zone. His parents argued like it was a routine, voices raised, things thrown, emotions weaponized. Most days, they didn’t notice if Yeonjun came home or not. And when they did, it was only to blame him for things he hadn’t done, things he couldn’t fix.

Soobin's house was quieter. Too quiet. His father had left years ago, and his mother never really came back from it. Her body was there, but her heart had turned cold. She would vanish for days, and when she returned, it was with heavy sighs and words that cut deeper than knives. “If you weren’t born, he would’ve stayed.” She said it once, but it echoed for years in Soobin’s mind.

The two boys had been best friends since elementary school. In a way, they saved each other without even trying. When Yeonjun couldn’t take another screaming match, he showed up at Soobin’s door. When Soobin felt too invisible, Yeonjun would sling an arm around him and talk nonsense until he smiled. They shared cheap snacks, late-night walks, and stolen laughter — things they never got at home.

Soobin loved Yeonjun. Not the way friends loved each other, not in a way that was simple or safe. It was the kind of love that bloomed in shadows, quiet and painful. He memorized the way Yeonjun chewed his straw when he was anxious, the way he got quiet when talking about families, the way his eyes softened whenever he looked at Soobin — even if he didn’t realize it.

But Soobin never said a word.

Because Yeonjun was already carrying too much. And Soobin would rather bear the ache of silence than risk losing the only person who ever made him feel like he mattered.

That evening had felt different. Softer. The sky was painted with orange and pink, and the streets buzzed with the smell of grilled skewers and laughter. Soobin had dragged Yeonjun out for street food, their fingers stained with sauce and sugar as they wandered aimlessly through narrow alleys, chasing freedom.

And then it happened.

Soobin tripped on a stray stone, his foot twisting just enough to send him tumbling onto the pavement.

“Shit—Soobin!”, Yeonjun dropped beside him instantly, panic flashing in his eyes. He gripped Soobin’s arms, checking his knees for scrapes, brushing dirt from his clothes like it was instinct.

“Soobin?! You okay? Are you hurt?! Why are you always so careless!”, The scolding came out fast, sharp, but his hands were gentle, brushing dirt off Soobin’s jeans, checking for blood like he expected to find something worse. His brows were furrowed, lips pressed tight, and Soobin just stared.