The beginning was easy, seamless. Joshua, Jeonghan, and Seungcheol had always been a triangle, their three points strong and interconnected. They were a late-night talk, a shared meal, a comforting presence. When their relationship shifted from friendship into something deeper something that involved intertwined hands and shared beds it felt like a natural, inevitable expansion of their already full universe. Joshua felt doubly cherished, held secure by the two people he trusted most.
The first crack appeared subtly, like a hairline fracture in glass.
In the privacy of their apartment, they were everything he dreamed of hands were always on him, warm and possessive. Jeonghan would curl up against his back, his breath soft on Joshua's neck, while Seungcheol's arm would weigh heavy and reassuring across his chest. They told him he was the peace in their chaos, the gentle center of their world. This was their truth.
But the moment they stepped out the door, the temperature dropped.
In public, their hands always found each other's first. If Jeonghan wasn't touching Seungcheol's shoulder, Seungcheol was resting his palm on Jeonghan's lower back. When Joshua walked next to them, the space between him and his partners stretched, invisible, yet vast. He was no longer the third point of the triangle; he was standing outside its perimeter, watching the geometry of two people who fit together perfectly.
"You guys go ahead," Joshua started saying often, dropping back a step, pretending to check his phone or tie a perfectly secure shoelace.
The shift wasn't about shyness it felt like a conscious choice. If a mutual friend approached them, Jeonghan would drop Joshua's hand immediately, replacing the intimate connection with a casual, distant tap on the arm the universal gesture for "just a friend." Meanwhile, Seungcheol would let his guard down slightly, always keeping Jeonghan within an arm's reach.
Then, the whispers started. Maybe they were quiet, or maybe Joshua was just hyper-tuned to them now, like a siren sounding only for him.
"Look, Shua is the third wheel again."
"Do you think they feel bad bringing him along?"
"They're so cute together, but he's just... there."
Each phrase was a hammer blow, validating the hollowness he felt. He looked at the reflection of the three of them Seungcheol, rugged and protective, Jeonghan, ethereal and leaning in and Joshua, a kind of polite, smiling accessory and the external view matched the cruel inner narrative. He started to believe it he wasn't a partner he was an obligation, the friend they didn't quite know how to shake off once the relationship started.
The final, shattering moment happened late one night after a company dinner. Joshua had excused himself to grab a blanket from the bedroom. He paused in the hallway, about to re-enter the living room, when he saw the light filtering under the doorframe.
Jeonghan was backed against the wall, eyes half-lidded, his arms locked around Seungcheol's neck. Seungcheol's large hands were tangled in the silk of Jeonghan's hair. It wasn't the kiss itself that broke Joshua's heart it was the intensity. It was possessive, urgent, and consuming a physical language Joshua recognized, but had only ever seen directed at him individually, never shared between them.
It was a kiss that communicated an exclusive understanding, a private fire he was not privy to.
He backed away silently, the blanket forgotten. The question echoed in the sudden, sharp silence of his mind.. Why?
He realized that the affection he received had always been convenient. It was given behind closed doors, where it cost them nothing, where they didn't have to define themselves to the world, or to each other. He was not a beloved partner in a shared relationship he was a secret, a beautiful distraction that was easily put aside when the real, public, acceptable relationship needed to resume
As Joshua stood alone in the hallway, the conditional love so warm when given, so utterly freezing when withheld crystallized into a bitter certainty He wasn't their lover. He was just the third friend they had forgotten to let go of when they finally found their true pair. The profound ache wasn't about missing a kiss it was the agonizing realization that he might have never been truly loved, only secretly used to fill a need that evaporated in the daylight.
Joshua didn't go back to the living room. He crept into his own room, the one he had long considered a temporary space, a holding area for his things in their apartment. He locked the door with a soft click and sat on the edge of the bed, the hum of the air conditioning a high-pitched scream in the silence. He didn't cry. The pain was too deep for tears; it was a physical numbness, a heavy, dull certainty in his chest.
The next morning, the air in the kitchen was thick with a forced normalcy that made Joshua want to shatter every ceramic plate.
Jeonghan was making coffee, humming softly. Seungcheol walked up behind him, kissing his temple a swift, comfortable gesture of domestic intimacy. They exchanged a look, a shared knowledge that did not include the third person in the room.
"Shua, good morning," Seungcheol said, his voice bright, entirely devoid of guilt or even awareness. "Sleep well? We're grabbing lunch at the studio today."
Joshua gripped the mug in his hand. The conditional affection had returned, but it was directed at Jeonghan. The public face was off, so the internal reality was allowed to shine. He suddenly saw the past six months not as a relationship, but as a carefully managed performance.
"No, I won't be joining you," Joshua said, his voice flat. He set the mug down so carefully it was loud.
Both of them paused. Jeonghan turned, his perpetual half-smile fading. "Oh? Why not?"
Joshua took a slow, deep breath. He didn't want to rage he wanted clarity. He wanted them to see the structure they had built a beautiful cage for him, secured with invisible chains.
I'm tired of being the friend you bring along," he said, staring directly at the spot on Jeonghan's neck where Seungcheol had just kissed him. "I'm tired of the rules. The ones you never wrote down, but I had to follow."
Seungcheol frowned, crossing his arms. "What rules, Shua? We love spending time with you."
"The rules of visibility," Joshua countered, his voice steady, gaining a cold strength. "Rule number one: You can hold my hand, but only if the front door is locked. Rule number two: You can tell me I'm your world, but only if there are no witnesses. Rule number three: When a camera is on, or a friend walks by, I instantly revert to 'just a third wheel.' Do you understand? Your love for me is an embarrassment you only perform in private."
The color drained from Jeonghan's face. He looked from Joshua to Seungcheol, a flash of fear not of losing Joshua, but of being exposed.
"That's not fair," Jeonghan murmured, licking his lips. "We're just private people, Shua. We're careful."
"Careful about what? About hurting your image? You are only ever careful about the two of you." Joshua felt a wave of crushing finality wash over him. "Last night, I saw you two in the living room. The intensity, the urgency... it was beautiful. And it had nothing to do with me."
He stepped back, creating his own space, refusing to be drawn into their triangle again. "I'm done being the beautiful distraction you keep behind closed doors. I need to know one thing, clearly, before I walk away."
He met Jeonghan and Seungcheol's eyes, which were now wide with dawning comprehension and shame.
"Was I ever truly loved? Or was I just your secret, filling a need until the two of you were comfortable enough to admit your real love to each other?"
The silence was the loudest, most honest answer he had ever received. He watched as the two people he cherished most failed to meet his gaze, their conditional love shattering into dust. Joshua finally picked up his keys and walked toward the door. He didn't wait for the inevitable, meaningless apology or the frantic scramble for an explanation. He just walked out, leaving the geometry of their perfect two-point relationship to stand alone in the wreckage.
