Mr. Lee packed dinner for them, and they headed home afterward.
Han drove with the windows closed, the faint but unmistakable smell of cigarette smoke lingering in the air.
Chaewon scrunched his nose. "Did you smoke? I hate this smell."
Han sniffed his own shirt, surprised. "Oh—sorry. I didn't realize it stuck to me."
Chaewon's expression darkened, anger simmering beneath his calm face.
"Stop the car. Drop me here," he muttered.
"What? No—just open the drawer, there's a spray. We can—"
"Stop. The. Car."
His voice rose sharply, trembling.
"If you don't stop right now, I'll jump."
Han immediately pulled over, alarmed.
Chaewon got out and stormed toward the sidewalk.
Han chased after him, catching his wrist—but Chaewon shoved him back, refusing to even look at him.
Han tried again. Another push. Chaewon kept walking.
Finally, Han snapped.
"What is wrong with you? It's just a cigarette! Why are you making such a big deal out of this?"
Chaewon suddenly froze. His knees gave out.
He crumpled to the ground, burying his face between his arms.
His shoulders shook—soft, muffled sobs breaking out.
Han's anger died instantly.
He lowered himself to the ground beside him, cautious and gentle.
Chaewon lifted his tear-stained face.
"Why did you smoke?" he choked out.
"If something's wrong, you can tell me. I'll help you. Just… talk to me."
His voice cracked as tears kept falling.
Han brushed his hair back softly.
"It's not like that," he whispered.
"Then what?" Chaewon insisted through tears.
"Are you stressed? Do you hate yourself?"
"No. I don't."
A lie both of them felt.
"Then why did you smoke?"
The question was a plea—afraid, vulnerable.
Han let out a small, defeated laugh.
"Chahyuk handed it to me. I didn't want to refuse."
Chaewon took a shaky breath.
"My father is dead… he used to smoke a lot. My mother always said he did it because he hated himself—and because he didn't love us."
Han's heart twisted. Chaewon never shared things like this.
It wasn't about the cigarette…
He was terrified of losing someone again.
"You told me to never leave you," Chaewon whispered, eyes glistening.
"So why are you running away from yourself?"
Han pulled him into a tight embrace.
"I'm not leaving you. Ever. And I'll never smoke again. I promise."
Slowly, Chaewon's breathing steadied.
Han stood and offered his hand.
"Let's go home."
Chaewon stared at his hand for a moment—hope flickering through the hurt—then took it.
Before Chaewon could enter the car, Han gently stopped him and grabbed the air freshener.
He sprayed the entire car, then his shirt, sniffing repeatedly until he was sure the smoke was gone.
Chaewon watched him silently… his angry heart melting just a little.
Han held the door open for him with a soft smile.
"Chaewon, let's go home."
Something about the way he said home made Chaewon's chest ache.
He slipped into the seat without a word.
The drive back was quiet. Too quiet.
When they reached their building, Chaewon walked straight to his apartment and closed the door behind him.
Han stood in the hallway for a moment, unsure if he should follow, unsure what to say next.
Maybe Chaewon just needed space… so Han quietly retreated to his own place as well.
But the silence between them followed.