Almost blind | Haobin

31| Breaking point |31

Hanbin shoved the front door open so hard that it rattled on its hinges, the sound slicing through the quiet house like a knife. He barely paused to slam it shut behind him. His chest was heaving, adrenaline buzzing in his veins.

"Is Hao home?" he demanded, his voice sharp as he stormed into the living room.

Ricky and Gyuvin were there, sitting too close, their hands barely brushing-like they had been in the middle of something that wasn't meant to be seen. They pulled apart the second Hanbin entered, eyes snapping to him.

Gyuvin raised a brow, caught off guard. "Yeah, he's in his room, but-" He hesitated, his expression shifting. "Wait, why are you-"

Hanbin didn't hear the rest. He was already moving, already taking the stairs two at a time. He had no time for their questions, no time for hesitation. His thoughts were a storm, and at the center of it was Yujin, standing in that damned gallery, soaking up the credit for something that wasn't his.

By the time Hanbin reached Hao's door, he didn't stop. He didn't knock. He shoved it open.

Hao was seated at his desk, a brush poised in his hand, the scent of oil paint thick in the air. Flecks of color smudged his fingers, a faint streak of blue on his cheek. He blinked up at Hanbin, clearly startled. His frown came immediately after.

"The hell?" Hao set down his brush, unimpressed. "Do you know what knocking is?" But Hanbin barely heard him. He closed the door behind him, breath still uneven, running a hand through his hair like that would steady him.

"Listen up," he panted, voice tight, but this only made Hao roll his eyes, already exasperated. "Hanbin, I don't have time for your-"

"It's about Yujin."

Hao's fingers stiffened around his brush, when he grabbed it again.

"Do you remember that painting?" he finally asked, making Hao blink. "What?"

"The one with the bunny," Hanbin clarified, stepping forward. "The one you gave Yujin. The one i ruined."

Hao's expression flickered-just for a second. A memory surfacing. Then his face hardened. He frowned and turned his attention back to his painting, refusing to look at Hanbin. "What about it?"

Hanbin swallowed, forcing himself to keep his voice steady. "I saw it today," he said. "Gunwook and I-we were at the gallery." He let the words settle before delivering the final blow. "It was hanging on the wall."

Hanbin's stomach twisted. Hao's expression-anger layered over something more fragile, something breaking-was harder to look at than Hanbin had expected. He thought Hao would be shocked, maybe hurt, but..

Hao's brows furrowed, confusion flickering in his eyes before hardening into indifference. "So what?"

Hanbin clenched his jaw. "His name was on it, Hao. His. He took your painting and claimed it as his own, which means that he-"

"Hanbin, stop."

Hao cut him off so sharply that it made Hanbin flinch. The air between them felt charged, suffocating. Hanbin stood there, stunned, his breath catching in his throat.

"No." He shook his head, desperation creeping into his voice. "You don't understand, he-"

"I don't care."

Hao's voice was steel, unwavering. "I don't care what you and your friend did in the gallery. I don't care what you saw or what you think you know." He said. Hanbin stared at him, momentarily speechless.

"Hao, but you should care!" His voice rose, his frustration spilling over. "Yujin is using you, he's taking advantage of you and-"

"I said STOP!"