The Light After The Storm | SUNSUN

Silent

It had been several weeks since Sunoo and Sunghoon had last spoken, and the space between them had only grown. Sunoo had been avoiding Sunghoon with a resolute silence that spoke louder than any words.

One evening, Sunghoon found himself standing outside Sunoo’s apartment, his mind heavy with the understanding of why Sunoo was shutting him out. He knew that Sunoo’s avoidance stemmed from the pain and guilt surrounding their last encounter—a situation that had clearly left a mark on both of them.

Taking a deep breath, Sunghoon raised his hand and knocked softly on the door. He waited, hoping that perhaps his presence might offer some small comfort or a chance for an honest exchange.

The door opened just enough for Sunoo’s face to come into view. His expression was a careful mask, betraying nothing of the turmoil he must have been feeling. Sunghoon tried to meet his gaze, but Sunoo’s eyes remained fixed somewhere past his shoulder.

“Sunoo,” Sunghoon’s voice was gentle, despite the emotions churning inside him. “I know why you’ve been avoiding me. I understand. If you ever feel ready to talk. But I respect your space and your need for time.”

Sunoo’s gaze flickered briefly towards Sunghoon, but he offered no words or sign of recognition. With a heavy silence filling the air, Sunoo slowly began to close the door. The finality of the movement was unmistakable.

Sunghoon stood there for a moment, his heart aching at the unmistakable rejection. The door was shut now, and with it, the chance for immediate resolution or reconciliation. The reality of Sunoo’s silence was a stark reminder of the distance that had grown between them.

Turning away from the door, Sunghoon walked back to his own apartment, carrying with him the weight of unspoken words and unresolved feelings. Though the encounter had been brief, the silent exchange left him with a profound sense of sorrow and hope—hope that someday, the silence might give way to understanding and healing.

Weeks had turned into months, and despite the passage of time, Sunghoon still hadn’t managed to talk to Sunoo. The silence between them was growing increasingly painful, and Sunghoon’s patience was wearing thin. He found himself caught in a whirlwind of emotions, led by his own instinctive desires and the pressure of his alpha side, which yearned for resolution and connection.

Sunghoon could barely recall when his feelings had shifted from simple friendship to something deeper. It was as if the first moment he saw Sunoo, a quiet, inexplicable comfort had settled over him, even though they hadn’t yet truly known each other. They had become close quickly, sharing meals and laughter, forming a bond that seemed unbreakable.

When Sunghoon first met Sunoo’s son, Sunjin, it felt like a natural extension of their growing relationship. The three of them often spent time together, and Sunghoon’s curiosity about Sunjin’s father was a constant undercurrent in his thoughts. He couldn’t help but wonder about the man who was missing from their lives.

His curiosity was piqued when he saw a photograph on Sunoo’s wall, showing a family of three: Sunoo, Sunjin, and another guy. Sunghoon’s heart sank as he saw the picture and asked Sunoo about it. The answer he received was both heartbreaking and illuminating.

Sunoo explained that the boy in the photograph was Jake, Sunjin’s father, who had died. Sunghoon could see the profound love and sorrow in Sunoo’s eyes as he spoke of Jake. It was clear that Jake’s death had left a deep, indelible mark on Sunoo’s heart. Sunghoon felt a wave of sadness wash over him, understanding that Jake hadn’t left them by choice; he had been taken from them too soon.

Despite his own feelings for Sunoo, which he kept closely guarded, Sunghoon accepted the reality of the situation with a heavy heart. He respected Sunoo’s enduring love for Jake and understood that, while his own feelings were his secret, his presence in Sunoo’s life was what mattered most to him. Sunghoon cherished the moments he could spend with Sunoo and Sunjin, even if their relationship remained as friends.