𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓 || 𝑺𝑬𝑶𝑲𝑺𝑶𝑶

eight

Seokmin sat alone in his room, knees pulled to his chest, staring blankly at the floor as his thoughts circled in relentless, painful loops. His heart felt hollow, raw, emptied out of all the love he’d so willingly poured into a void. His throat burned from the cries that had racked his body the night before, and his eyes were sore, the last of his tears dried up but still leaving a weight he couldn’t seem to lift.

I shouldn’t have said it, he thought bitterly, a lump forming in his throat again. What was I thinking? That he’d actually care? That it would change anything?

“Stupid, so stupid,” he whispered to himself, clenching his hands into fists as he hit himself on the head multiple times, enough to hurt that maybe..maybe it will fix whatever is wrong with him, He could still feel the ghost of Joshua’s presence, still smell his cologne on the sheets, still feel the brush of his fingers that had never held any warmth, only possessiveness. He buried his face in his hands. I’m done. No more. He can’t have this part of me anymore. He’s taken enough already.

But even as he resolved himself, the ache in his chest flared up, betraying the part of him that still, foolishly, missed the comfort of being near Joshua, no matter how cruel or distant he had been.

A knock sounded at the door, soft at first, then louder when Seokmin didn’t respond. He knew who it was before the voice came through, filled with gentle concern.

“Seokmin-ah? It’s me, Seungcheol-hyung. Are you alright?”

Seokmin’s first instinct was to stay silent, to pretend he wasn’t there. He wasn’t sure he could face anyone, even someone as understanding as Seungcheol. But the knocking persisted, growing more urgent.

“Seokmin-ah, I’m not leaving until you talk to me. Please, let me in,” Seungcheol’s voice held a mixture of worry and patience, a familiar warmth that somehow managed to seep through the cracks of Seokmin’s resolve.

With a defeated sigh, Seokmin stood up and opened the door just a sliver, enough for Seungcheol to see his face. One look, and Seungcheol’s expression softened, his brows knitting together with concern as he took in Seokmin’s swollen eyes and tired face.

“Hyung… please, I’m fine. Really,” Seokmin mumbled, trying to force a smile that fell apart the moment he attempted it.

Seungcheol gave him a long look before sighing and stepping inside, gently closing the door behind him. He placed a comforting hand on Seokmin’s shoulder. “Seokmin, don’t lie to me. I know you too well. You’ve been different lately—quiet, distracted… and I’m worried about you. If something’s wrong, you can tell me.”

Seokmin swallowed, his gaze dropping to the floor. The words he wanted to say choked in his throat, too tangled with shame and confusion to come out. He didn’t want Seungcheol to know—couldn’t bear the thought of anyone seeing just how much he’d allowed himself to be hurt.

“Hyung, it’s… it’s nothing. I’m just… tired.” He let out a shaky breath, hating how unconvincing he sounded. “I just need some time alone, that’s all.”

Seungcheol studied him carefully, his hand never leaving Seokmin’s shoulder. “Seokmin-ah, you don’t have to go through this alone. Whatever it is, you don’t have to lock yourself away.”

Seokmin’s lips parted as if to respond, but no words came out. His thoughts scrambled, searching for some way to explain, to open up without exposing the shame he felt over everything with Joshua. The promises, the empty declarations, the way he’d given so much only to be left hollow. He knew Seungcheol wouldn’t judge him, but the thought of saying it out loud made his chest tighten.

“I… I can’t, hyung,” he finally whispered, his voice barely audible. “I just… need to figure things out on my own.”

Seungcheol looked at him with sad understanding, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Alright, Seokmin. But just remember, I’m here if you need me. Anytime, okay?”

Seokmin nodded, managing a faint smile of gratitude. “Thank you, hyung. Really… thank you.”

After Seungcheol left, Seokmin closed the door, leaning his head against it as his resolve hardened. He couldn’t keep letting himself be pulled back into Joshua’s orbit, couldn’t keep letting himself be broken over and over. He needed to rebuild, to find himself again without Joshua looming over him, whispering words that filled him with hope only to shatter it.

No more, he repeated to himself, taking a deep breath. No more letting him control me, no matter how much I want him. I won’t let him take anything else from me.

>>>

The next day, Seokmin avoided Joshua with every ounce of determination he could muster. He’d steer his path in the opposite direction if he so much as sensed Joshua nearby, kept his head down during lectures, even ignored his friends who tried to cheer him up with their usual playful antics. It was exhausting, draining in ways he hadn’t anticipated, but each moment he resisted gave him a tiny sense of victory.

But Joshua, always sharp, always observant, noticed the distance.

“Where’s Seokmin?” Joshua asked casually during lunch, feigning disinterest, though his gaze kept flicking toward the cafeteria door as if expecting Seokmin to walk through at any moment.

Jeonghan sitting beside him with their other friends surrounding them filled with chatters fell silent at his question as Jeonghan shrugged. “Don’t know, he’s been pretty quiet. Maybe he’s just busy?”

Joshua scoffed, a flicker of irritation crossing his face, though he quickly masked it. “Busy? That doesn’t sound like him. He’s always buzzing around like some… overexcited puppy.”

His words earned him a few laughs, but he felt a gnawing discomfort creep into his chest. Joshua’s mind flashed back to Seokmin’s room, to the fragile confession that had left him reeling, a moment he’d tried so hard to shake off but couldn’t seem to forget.

And later, when he finally managed to catch a glimpse of Seokmin in the hallway, something inside him flared, an urge he couldn’t quite explain. He wanted to pull Seokmin aside, to say something—though he wasn’t sure what—but Seokmin’s eyes were set straight ahead, not sparing Joshua a glance as he walked past.

“Seokmin,” Joshua called out, forcing a calmness he didn’t feel. But Seokmin’s step didn’t falter, his gaze remained fixed forward, and in that moment, Joshua felt a pang of something he didn’t want to acknowledge.

Later that night, back in his room, Seokmin tried to ignore the flutter of emotions that Joshua’s voice had stirred. It would be so easy to turn around, to let Joshua pull him back, to allow himself to be lost in that toxic cycle of desire and emptiness again. But he wouldn’t. Not this time. He’d promised himself.

As he sat alone, forcing his thoughts away from Joshua, he whispered to himself, “I’m going to be okay. I don’t need him. I don’t need anyone who doesn’t see me, doesn’t care for me.”

And for the first time, he started to believe it.