raspberries and mocha | heejake ✔

32

HEESEUNG

Heeseung hadn't slept—well, not properly, at least. After Jake left, there wasn't much to do but stare at the ceiling, his thoughts scattered like broken glass on the floor. Work passed by in a blur. Customers came and went. Smiles were forced, dishes washed. But Jake's name sat on the tip of his tongue, like a word you know you shouldn't say but can't help thinking about.

It was pathetic, really. Heeseung didn't even believe in love, not until Jake barged into his life and changed that in what felt like minutes. And now? Now it felt like the universe was having a laugh at his expense. Love him fast. Leave him faster.

He caught himself thinking about Jake every five minutes—how his lips curled into a grin, the way his hair always fell into his eyes, and that damn oversized sweatshirt that made Heeseung want to pull him close forever. For a guy who once swore he'd never be the type to get wrapped up in anyone, he'd fallen too hard, too fast, and the crash felt inevitable.

Heeseung scrubbed harder at the counter until his knuckles turned white. The rhythmic sound of cloth against metal kept him grounded, but only just. He wasn't going to cry. That wasn't his thing. Instead, he'd pour every ounce of frustration into work until he couldn't think anymore. Or so he told himself.

But the truth sat heavy on his chest. As much as he wanted to hate Jake for cutting things off, he couldn't. Heeseung respected it. Hell, he'd even admired the honesty, in a twisted way. What hurt more was knowing he would have done anything for Jake—given him everything, without question. Heeseung would have stayed, no matter how hard things got. And knowing Jake couldn't see that? That was the real kicker.

He leaned back against the sink, chest rising and falling with a long sigh. The restaurant's fluorescent lights buzzed above him, adding to the noise in his head. This was supposed to be easy. Casual. A fun distraction. But Jake had ruined all of that with his smile, his laughter, the way he made Heeseung feel like he was the only person in the room.

And now? Now there was nothing. Just a stupid void and the regret of not kissing Jake harder that last time.

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JAKE

Jake sat cross-legged on his couch, clutching his phone like it held the answers to every question in his mind. He stared at Heeseung's contact. No new messages, no calls.

"Good," Jake mumbled to himself.

No it fucking wasn't. He wanted Heeseung to message or call him so bad. He wanted some sign from Heeseung. That he still cared. That he still wanted him. But he was the one that cut him off, wasn't he? Why was he still expecting Heeseung to be so desperate for him? He was the desperate one. Heeseung had chosen to respect Jake's decision. And he would stick to it.

He'd done the right thing. He had to. Heeseung deserved better—someone less complicated, someone who didn't come with intrusive thoughts and second-guessing every damn emotion. Loving Heeseung had been easy. Too easy. And that was what scared Jake the most.

He tugged the sleeves of his sweatshirt over his hands, squeezing them tight as if that could stop his heart from clenching. He loved Heeseung—he knew that much. But love wasn't always enough. Not when the fear of ruining someone so good gnawed at you every second.

Heeseung would've given Jake everything, no questions asked. Jake knew that. And that's why he had to end it—because he didn't deserve that kind of love. Not from someone as patient and steady as Heeseung. Heeseung deserved someone who didn't feel like they were constantly running away from their own thoughts.

Jake groaned, rubbing his face roughly. He hated feeling this way—like he'd won some tragic lottery. He got the perfect guy, but the moment things got too real, he was the one who folded.

A soft knock on the door startled him, and for a fleeting second, he thought it might be Heeseung. But no—it was Sunoo and Jungwon checking in on him again. They didn't know how to help him, but they were trying, and Jake appreciated that.

"Hey," Sunoo greeted as they entered. "You good?"

"Yeah," Jake lied, forcing a smile that even he didn't believe.

The truth was, he wasn't good. Not even close. Every cell in his body told him to run back to Heeseung, to undo everything and tell him how stupid he'd been. But that would only make things worse. Jake had made his decision, and now he had to live with it—even if it felt like the worst mistake of his life.

He leaned back into the couch and stared at the ceiling. Heeseung's face lingered at the edges of his mind, unshakable and constant.

He could only hope Heeseung was doing better than him. But deep down, Jake knew better.