black cat | woosan ✔

21

Wooyoung stirred awake, the blanket slipping off his shoulders as he shifted. The dull ache of regret hit him instantly, settling deep in his chest. The events of the previous evening replayed in his mind—the shouting, the insults, the rage. None of it felt real now, like a horrible dream he wanted to shake off. But the knot in his stomach told him otherwise. It had all happened.

He sat up, pushing his hair out of his eyes. The apartment was eerily quiet except for the faint hum of the fridge in the kitchen. His head throbbed slightly, probably from crying himself to sleep, and his eyes felt swollen.

With a heavy sigh, he rubbed his face, as if that would erase the shame clawing at him. Then, something caught his eye—the suitcase propped up near the door.

His heart sank.

And next to it...Mingi's red-orange duffle bag.

The sight of that familiar bag sent a chill down Wooyoung's spine. It only ever came out when Mingi traveled—a weekend trip, a visit home, or a holiday abroad. But this wasn't any of those things. This...this felt different. Something wasn't right.

Wooyoung's pulse quickened as panic bubbled up inside him. No, no, no. He wouldn't leave. Not like this.

Barely aware of what he was doing, he stumbled toward the kitchen. His mind raced, grasping at explanations that made sense. Maybe Mingi was going somewhere for a project. Or maybe he was just going somewhere...for a day. Right?

He grabbed a glass from the counter, hands trembling slightly as he filled it with water. But before he could take a sip, the creak of a door opening made him freeze.

Mingi stepped out of their shared bedroom, already dressed in black sweats and a gray cardigan, his duffle slung over one shoulder. The expression on his face was unreadable—but heavy.

When Mingi's gaze locked with Wooyoung's, a flicker of guilt passed through his eyes, but he masked it quickly. Neither of them spoke for a long, suffocating moment.

Then Wooyoung's voice cracked the silence. "W-What's going on?"

Mingi exhaled through his nose, biting his lip and rubbing the back of his neck as if the words were hard to get out. He didn't want to do this.

"I'm moving out."

It hit like a punch to the gut. Wooyoung blinked, his mind scrambling to make sense of what he'd just heard. "...What?"

Mingi shifted uncomfortably but didn't back down. "I need space," he said quietly, "Just for a while."

Wooyoung's chest tightened, and he felt the sting of tears returning—threatening to spill. This wasn't happening. Not Mingi. Not his Mingi.

"You're moving out?" he whispered, his voice cracking as the panic set in. "Is it...because of me?"

Of course it was because of him. He didn't need Mingi to say it—the answer was written all over his face.

Mingi's jaw tensed, and he looked away, unable to meet Wooyoung's pleading gaze.

"Why?" Wooyoung choked out, his breath hitching. He felt the tears burn hotter now, clouding his vision. He knew the answer—he just didn't want to hear it. "Mingi, please...don't do this."

Mingi let out a long, tired sigh, stepping closer. "I need time, Woo. I love you more than anything, but I can't—" His voice wavered, "I can't stay right now. I need to breathe."

Wooyoung shook his head, frantically wiping at his eyes. His body trembled, overwhelmed by the realization that no apology, no desperate plea, would change this. He was losing Mingi, even if just for a while.

Mingi placed both hands on Wooyoung's shoulders, grounding him. "It's just for a bit, okay? I promise. Remember I would never ever leave you for good." His voice was soft but firm, like a bandage placed over a wound too deep to fully heal.

Wooyoung didn't respond. He couldn't. His throat was too tight, and his heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vice. He stood frozen, barely breathing, as Mingi's hands slipped away from his shoulders.

The sound of the zipper on the duffle bag was deafening.

And then, without another word, Mingi turned toward the door.

The soft click of the latch felt louder than it should have, reverberating through the quiet apartment. The door shut behind him, and with it, the fragile thread holding Wooyoung together snapped.

Wooyoung's knees gave out beneath him, and he crumpled to the floor. He wrapped his arms around his legs, hugging them close as if that would stop the ache in his chest. But it didn't.

He buried his face in his hands, the tears spilling freely now—hot, desperate, and relentless. Each sob felt like it was being ripped out of him. The weight of everything—the argument, the hurt, the guilt—came crashing down all at once.

He had driven Mingi away.

The realization tore through him like a storm, and all he could do was cry harder, rocking slightly as the sobs wracked his body.

He didn't know how long he stayed there, curled up on the cold floor, gasping for air between sobs. All he knew was that it hurt more than anything ever had.

And for the first time in a long time...he felt truly, utterly alone.

"I'm such a fucking idiot. An attention-seeking bitch."