Guilty As Sin ► Y.JH

11

The studio was eerily quiet. The low hum of the air conditioning buzzed in the background, blending with the faint vibrations of the strings from the guitars that were still lying around, abandoned for the night. The band had called it a day earlier than usual, the air between them still heavy with the unspoken words from the rehearsal. After Jeonghan's return, everything felt... fractured. The tension was palpable, and no matter how hard they tried to push through, it lingered in the space like a dark cloud, overshadowing their music.

Soleil had stayed late, organizing her things and finishing up some notes on a shoot she'd been planning. She didn't have the heart to go home just yet. Her mind was a whirlwind of confusion, of emotion. She had been avoiding Jeonghan, as much as she could. Every time their eyes met, something stirred inside her-something she had buried deep, something she had tried to deny for weeks, if not months.

She knew she shouldn't feel this way. After everything that had happened-after the heartbreak, the distance, the tension-she had tried to move on. She had tried to find peace in her work, in her photography, in keeping herself busy. But the truth was, nothing could distract her from the pull she still felt toward Jeonghan. He was back, and it was almost impossible to ignore the way her heart responded to him, even when it hurt.

The band had dispersed, leaving only Jeonghan behind. He had been sitting quietly, not saying much since the last argument in the studio. His guitar was still resting in his lap, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the strings, but his mind wasn't in the music. His eyes were on Soleil, who was sitting across from him, her focus entirely on her camera.

For a while, neither of them spoke. The air between them was thick with unsaid words, with feelings that neither of them had fully acknowledged out loud. The silence was both comforting and suffocating, a strange mix of familiarity and something far more dangerous. Jeonghan's heart was racing, his mind replaying the moments since his return-since the moment he'd seen Soleil again.

He couldn't deny it anymore. Every look, every touch, every small moment they shared-it was all still there, the tension, the connection, the longing. The time apart had only amplified it, bringing to the surface emotions he had tried to bury. And now, sitting across from her, feeling the pull between them, he knew there was no turning back.

"Soleil," Jeonghan finally said, breaking the silence. His voice was quiet, hesitant, as if testing the waters. He hadn't wanted to say her name, not like this, not in the middle of the uncertainty that loomed over them. But he couldn't help himself. It had been building inside him, all the things he needed to say, and now it was spilling out, uncontrolled.

Soleil didn't look up immediately. She knew he was watching her, but she couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze just yet. Instead, she focused on the camera in her hands, her fingers gripping it tightly as if it were the only thing grounding her in that moment.

"I don't think we should be doing this," she muttered, more to herself than to him, though she knew he would hear. Her voice was small, vulnerable, and she felt a sharp pang in her chest as she spoke.

Jeonghan's heart sank at her words. He could feel the weight of the space between them, the gap that had grown wider over time. And yet, now that she had said those words, it only made him want to bridge it more.

"I know," he said softly, his voice edged with regret. "But I can't stop thinking about you, Soleil. I can't pretend like everything is okay when it's not. We... we can't keep avoiding this."

Soleil's breath caught in her throat, her hands tightening on the camera. She finally met his gaze, and her eyes locked with his, searching for something-an answer, maybe, or some sign that this was all just a passing feeling. But when she saw the intensity in his gaze, when she saw the rawness of the emotions written across his face, she knew it was anything but temporary.