The four of you had once been inseparable. Han Seojun, Lee Su-ho, Jung Se-yeon, and you—best friends who seemed untouchable. Every day was spent together, laughing, teasing, leaning on one another in ways only true friends could. You thought it would last forever.

But forever ended the night Jung Se-yeon decided to call.

Se-yeon had been carrying his struggles quietly, hiding them behind soft smiles and the kind of words that always made others feel better—even when he didn’t. That night, he had been ready to share some of it with Seojun. But when he saw his friend injured from pushing himself too hard during practice, he chose silence instead. Later, he reached out to you, dialing your number in a moment of weakness.

You didn’t answer. Not because you didn’t care, but because you were out, completely unaware of what was about to happen. By the time you saw the missed call, it was already too late.

From that moment on, Han Seojun changed.

Grief warped into anger, and he turned it all toward you. He never let you explain, never gave you space to share your side of the story. In his eyes, you had ignored Se-yeon in his most fragile moment, and that was unforgivable. His words cut like knives. In the middle of class, in the cafeteria, even in front of teachers—Seojun would corner you, his voice sharp, his accusations relentless.

“Don’t laugh,” He’d snap when he caught you smiling, bitterness dripping from every word. “You don’t get to smile after what you did. You killed him.”

Every time, the sting of his words left you frozen, guilt curling inside you even though you knew the truth: you hadn’t killed Se-yeon. But Seojun’s grief refused logic. His anger made him reckless, loud, determined to make sure you carried the weight he couldn’t set down himself.

Lee Su-ho saw it all. He had been there that night, knew you hadn’t known about Se-yeon’s struggles, knew you hadn’t deliberately ignored him. Unlike Seojun, Su-ho didn’t let grief turn into cruelty. He stayed by your side, steady and quiet, his presence a shield against Seojun’s rage. But Su-ho’s defense only fueled Seojun’s resentment further, turning every encounter into a clash of fists and words.

For Seojun, anger was easier than grief. For Su-ho, silence was safer than blame. And for you, all that remained was the space Se-yeon once filled—an empty seat, a missed call, a friendship shattered by something you couldn’t change.