ALL HE CAN GIVE.

FEARS SHOWING.

Song Ju-Ha's POV

I missed you. I missed you. I missed you. The words lingered in the air, playing on a loop in my head. My eyes shifted, trying to look at anything but Yoon. I shouldn't have said that. What does it mean? How will he take it?

I stumbled back, my eyes darting to the door. Should I run? I could handle this tomorrow or any other day—it doesn't have to be today, right? He'll understand me, he always does. His movements caught my attention as he sat up, his eyes searching mine with a blank expression.

I was struggling to get a breath in. I reached for my collar, trying to stretch it, to create room between the fabric and my neck that now felt like a knot around me.

"You... you... missed me?" His voice was small, almost passable, but the stiffening silence around us amplified it, ringing in my ears.

I reached for my left pinky, caressing it. The familiar contact calmed me slightly as I tried to find an answer—one I wasn't sure I had. What should I say? Yes, I missed you. I returned that day and paced outside your door for hours until my legs went numb. Should I tell him how I spent hours staring at my phone, wondering what to text? Should I say I'm sorry, that I didn't mean to leave like that?

Can I say I meant it when I said I missed him? What would that mean for us? I'm not ready for what this is, what it means... for us. What would people say if they ever found out? Will he still look at me the same way when the weight of it all hits? Will I ever be ready to lose everything—my friends, my place, my sense of normalcy? Will Yoon be willing to wait until then?

Shaking my head, I pushed my thoughts away, struggling to find the right words.

"Do-Yoon... I... I shouldn't have said that," I finally answered, meeting his gaze.

He stood up, and I instinctively took a few steps back. Noticing my movements, he stiffened, his eyes following the growing gap between us. The breeze that had been calming earlier now felt cold, sending a chill down my spine. The sun had already set, and the warmth was slowly fading from the room. A soft, grey light illuminated us, casting dark shadows over his face, making it difficult to read his expression.

"Yes, you shouldn't have," he said, his voice monotone but clear.

His eyes were fixed on the spot where I stood. A soft clicking sound broke the silence every few seconds, like the ticking of a clock—it was the sound of him biting down on his right thumb. Suddenly, as if catching himself in the act, he swiftly placed his hands behind his back and looked up with a wide smile—a smile so forced even a fool could tell it didn't reach his eyes.

"Let's forget anything that was said or happened. We can do that, right?" he said, taking a small step forward.

"Everything that happened was my fault. We can go back to how things were. I didn't hear anything, and we didn't do anything." His words came out in a rush, his voice pleading and growing louder with each sentence.

"Yoon—" I tried to interrupt.

"I knew you weren't ready, I'm sorry... I should have woken you that day, I'm sorry... I shouldn't have asked you to kiss me, I'm sorry... I'm so sorry." With every word, his voice rose higher, his smile widening unnaturally.

His hand combed through his hair frantically, his chest heaving with short breaths. His eyes, now wide, were fixed on me, searching desperately.

"Yoon!" I tried again, my voice more urgent.

"I'm sorry, Ju-Ha. Let's pretend you just walked in now. Nothing happened, okay? Let's forget everything. It never happened. I'm sorry, Ju-Ha. It's all my fault. I'm sorry... I'm sorry."

"YOON!" I reached out, gripping his shoulders tightly. He winced but finally stopped talking.

I'm not stupid. I know what I mean to him. But seeing it like this—it's different. His eyes glistened with tears, fighting to escape at any moment, a stark contrast to the eerie smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. Holding him in my arms, I could feel every shiver; he was trembling.

I did this to him. I'm the reason he's like this. I was foolish to think he would be fine. No one is ever fine with uncertainty. Humans crave clarity; everyone likes a clear answer. Should I end this now? Can I even end this? Can I live without him? There I go again, being selfish. But this is who I am. I can't go through the torture of severing ties with Yoon again.

"Yoon," I called, looking into his eyes to make sure he was listening.

"Yes, we can. Let's forget everything," I said, holding his gaze.

I watched as he pondered my words, his breathing slowly steadying as he registered what I meant. I released him once I could no longer feel him trembling.

"I came to say... to say that we can still..." I stammered, struggling to articulate the thoughts I had been mulling over for hours. It was a shameless proposition that only protected me, but I knew it would work. It had to work.

"I wanted to tell you that... I... I had fun on Saturday and..." I continued, shifting my weight nervously from one foot to the other. His eyes were still locked on me as if he wasn't even breathing.

"And I think if... but only if you're cool with it... we can hang out more at your place."

"When no one's around, that is," I added, cursing myself for having to say it.

Did I need to make it obvious how much we have to hide? We both know it. I'm such a coward.

"Yes, please! We don't even have to watch a movie—we can study, or play games," he said, interrupting my pity party.

The hollow smile he had worn earlier was gone. His head nodded enthusiastically, as though any delay in his response might make me change my mind. He took a step forward, his body leaning as if he wanted to reach out and hug me—but then, as if catching himself, he stopped, settling for just looking at me and smiling.

In this dingy practice room, a foreign warmth stirred inside me as I looked at him, looking up at me. I want to see him genuinely smile—a smile without something hidden behind it. Today, we talked it out—sort of. But what about next time? What do we do when the same thing happens, and I can't come to terms with my attraction to him? Saying "Let's just forget it" won't always solve the self-loathing I feel every time I get too close to him. Forgetting won't erase the guilt.

"I'll walk you home," I said, pushing my thoughts to the back of my mind.

"Go get your bag. I'll be at the gate," I added, leaving first. A few seconds later, his soft footsteps echoed behind me, following me.

There it was—the sense of familiarity between us as we walked down the old building's halls. He was just a few steps behind—not close enough to touch, yet not far enough that I couldn't hear him. This is how it's always been, the distance between us. Safe, predictable... but is this really how it has to stay? For now, maybe. But what about tomorrow?"

authors note:

Sorry for the late and short update, more is sure to come so please stick around. Thank you for reading and i  appreciate all feedback.