The lights in the villa's living room were dim, casting a warm hush across the space—as if the day itself was exhaling.
Beside the half-empty bottle of whiskey, a pool of melted ice had begun to blur into the grain of the table.
Noah came down the stairs slowly, hood fallen behind his neck, hands deep in his pockets.
He dropped into the couch without a word, sinking into the cushions like he'd been carrying something all day.
Across from him, Jinwoo sat with his legs stretched out, head tilted back, eyes fixed on the ceiling—until they lowered and found Noah's face.
Neither spoke.
It wasn't silence born of awkwardness—just a mutual pause, like the space between two deep breaths.
"…I heard."
Jinwoo broke the stillness first, his voice low, even, carrying weight.
Noah blinked.
"What?"
"Last night. You and Celeste. I wasn't trying to listen—the elevator stopped. I just… ended up standing there."
He let out a short laugh.
"And then I couldn't leave. Felt like I had to hear it all. Like I was backstage again, waiting for someone else's final line."
Noah didn't flinch.
Didn't deflect.
He just looked back—quiet and steady.
"…Sorry."
Jinwoo shook his head.
"No need. We're all doing our best to be honest. In our own way."
He leaned forward, resting his chin in his palm.
"I kept turning it over in my head…but honestly? You weren't wrong about anything."
A tired smile tugged at his lips.
"I'm an actor, you know? Hiding feelings is kind of my job. But this—"
He let out a soft breath.
"This isn't something I can act my way through."
Noah swirled the ice in his glass, the sound soft and rhythmic against the sides.
"You okay?" he asked.
Jinwoo paused.
Eyes closed, then opened again—slower, clearer.
"…I wasn't. But something's shifting. And somehow… you helped."
Noah blinked.
"Me?"
Jinwoo gave a small shrug and laughed.
"Yeah. You."
He sat back, eyes unfocused.
"...You were right. Time will fix it. Somehow."
Noah lifted his glass halfway.
"…I can tell you really love her."
Jinwoo didn't hesitate.
"I do. Some days, it's too much."
Noah smiled faintly.
"Well...Since we're speaking truths now… I care about her too. Not in the same way, maybe—but it's real, all the same."
Jinwoo nodded.
There was no jealousy.
Just… a quiet recognition.
A shared truth between two men who knew better than to pretend.
"…We should tell her," Noah said quietly.
Jinwoo looked up.
"You mean… that we all love her? Each in our own way?"
Noah gave a single nod.
"You heard it too—she's barely holding on. And if she breaks… she shouldn't have to face it alone."
"Okay,"
Jinwoo replied, his voice steady.
"When we're back home… we'll talk. Together."
Silence settled between them again—soft, but weighty.
"…You realize how ridiculous this is?"
Noah muttered.
"What? Us? Sitting here like this?"
Jinwoo offered a crooked grin.
Noah leaned back slightly.
"You know about her ability too, right?"
"What, that Pikachu shockwave mode?" Jinwoo raised an eyebrow.
Noah let out a dry laugh.
"God, that's so dumb. But… weirdly accurate."
He shook his head, gaze drifting upward.
"All of this is ridiculous. And yet, the more real it gets… the more unreal it feels."
"Do you even hear yourself?"
Jinwoo chuckled under his breath.
"You sound like a poet."
Neither of them spoke, but both reached for their glasses—a quiet, instinctive motion.
A silent truce.
The night wrapped gently around them, softening the sharp edges of jealousy, confusion, and love—if only for now.
"By tomorrow,"
Jinwoo said,
"we go back to who we're supposed to be."
"…Yeah."
Noah's eyes stayed on the window, watching the dark press softly against the glass.
"But for tonight… let's just be human."
Their glasses clinked, low and sure.
Not as rivals.
But as something closer.
Not quite friends—but something real.