Deep End | Hyunlix

35

Hyunjin's art studio was in shambles, a physical manifestation of the chaos inside him. Overturned canvases littered the room, their surfaces slashed with harsh strokes of black and red. Brushes lay discarded, some broken in fits of rage, while streaks of paint marred the once-pristine walls. It was the kind of mess he'd never allowed before, but nothing seemed to matter anymore. Not his pride. Not his control. Not the careful image of composure he always maintained.

The studio, his sanctuary, now felt suffocating. Hyunjin stood amidst the wreckage of half-finished pieces, broken palettes, and canvases he'd destroyed in fits of frustration. The chaos was a mirror of his mind, his anger simmering just beneath the surface, threatening to boil over at any moment.

He paced the room, running a trembling hand through his disheveled hair. His chest felt heavy, each breath strained and uneven. He wasn't sure if he was furious at Felix, or at himself. Maybe it was both.

Felix.

The name was a curse in his mind, sparking a fresh wave of bitterness and pain. Hyunjin had played his part perfectly, kept his guard up and his motives hidden, just like he always did. Felix was supposed to be nothing more than a pawn, a temporary distraction he could manipulate to gain leverage for his own agenda. That had been the plan, a cold, calculated move in the intricate game Hyunjin played so well.

But somehow, everything had gone wrong.

Hyunjin's jaw clenched as he grabbed a nearby paintbrush, his grip so tight it threatened to snap. "How dare he," he muttered, his voice barely audible over the pounding in his ears. He hurled the brush across the room, watching as it hit the wall with a dull thud, leaving a streak of red in its wake.

He'd been so careful, so deliberate. Yet Felix had undone him, piece by piece, without even trying. There was something about him, the way his eyes softened when he spoke, the quiet strength he carried, the way he made Hyunjin feel seen in a way that no one else ever had. It was infuriating.

And now, Felix left him.

The thought gnawed at him, each repetition stinging more than the last. He'd let his walls down, even if only slightly, and Felix had slipped through his fingers like sand. It was ridiculous, really. Hyunjin wasn't the type to lose control, not like this. He'd mastered the art of keeping people at arm's length, of never letting anyone see the cracks beneath his polished exterior.

But Felix had seen. And that scared him.

He sank onto a stool, burying his face in his hands as the memories came flooding back. "Why did I let him in?" Hyunjin whispered, his voice trembling with a mix of anger and something far more dangerous: vulnerability.

The anger swelled again, pushing him to his feet. He grabbed a fresh canvas, slamming it onto the easel with more force than necessary. He squeezed black paint onto the palette, letting it spill over the edges before picking up a brush. His strokes were harsh, erratic, the bristles digging into the canvas as if he could exorcise his emotions through sheer force.

But no matter how hard he painted, the knot in his chest refused to loosen. The rage, the hurt, the betrayal, it was all still there, simmering just beneath the surface.

Hyunjin slammed the canvas to the floor, the sound echoing through the studio. His breath hitched, and he dragged both hands through his hair, tugging at the strands as if the pain could drown out the ache in his chest.

This wasn't supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to feel like this, hurt, betrayed, raw. Felix had been a tool, a means to an end. That was all. Yet here he was, left to pick up the pieces of something he couldn't even name.

His gaze landed on his phone, sitting abandoned on the cluttered table. He hadn't touched it since waking up that morning, half hoping Felix would reach out, half dreading that he wouldn't.

As if on cue, the phone buzzed, the sound cutting through the silence of the studio like a blade. Hyunjin froze, his breath catching in his throat. Slowly, he walked over, his heart pounding as the screen lit up with a name he both longed and loathed to see.

Felix.

Hyunjin stared at the message, his jaw tightening as his emotions warred within him. He hesitated for a moment before picking up the phone, his fingers trembling slightly as he opened the message.

"Hey, it's Felix. I just wanted to make sure you're okay. Thanks for... everything."

The words were polite. Empty. And yet, they hit like a punch to the gut. Hyunjin's lips twisted into a bitter smile as he reread the message, his chest tightening with every word. Thanks for everything. As if their night together, the vulnerability Hyunjin had shown, could be neatly tied up and dismissed with a simple "thanks."

His grip on the phone tightened as a fresh wave of anger surged through him. Felix didn't get to do this. He didn't get to leave and then act like nothing had happened, like Hyunjin was just another chapter in his story.

The first instinct was to reply, to lash out, to demand an explanation, to let Felix know just how much damage he'd done. But as Hyunjin stood there, staring at the screen, he realized the truth he didn't want to admit.

It wasn't just anger he felt. It was hurt.

The phone buzzed again, the notification lingering as if mocking him. Hyunjin set it down on the table, his hands shaking as he turned away. He couldn't bring himself to respond, not yet. Maybe not ever.

Instead, he picked up his brush and turned back to the canvas, his strokes slower this time, more deliberate. The anger was still there, but now it was laced with something softer, something he didn't want to name.

"Thanks for everything," he muttered under his breath, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he worked.

But even as he tried to lose himself in the painting, the ache in his chest refused to fade. Felix had left more than just a mess in his wake. He had left cracks in the walls Hyunjin had spent years building, and no amount of paint could cover them up.

He stared at the chaos he'd created in the studio, Hyunjin realized the truth he didn't want to admit. Felix hadn't just left him feeling vulnerable. He'd left him exposed. And no matter how hard Hyunjin tried to convince himself otherwise, he knew he couldn't go back to who he was before.

Not after Felix.

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1125 words