King stiffened, raising his head, eyes wide and glassy with tears.
"Your… girlfriend?" he whispered, his voice breaking.
Win's gaze didn't waver. "Yes, my girlfriend. Why are you repeating it like you're surprised? You should already know I'm not sick like you. We are different. And for my girlfriend not to get the wrong impression of you coming into my room and lying on me like this, I'll allow it tonight. After tonight, you are not allowed to come close to me anymore."
King stared at him in disbelief, his heart tearing apart. His lips trembled as he asked, "You still think me loving a man means I'm sick… right?"
Win's expression hardened. "Please, I have no time for your questions and answers. I'm very tired. If you can't accept the truth or take my words, then use the door."
The words cut deeper than any blade. King rose slowly, his legs weak beneath him, ready to leave. But before he reached the door, Win's voice struck the air again, cold but commanding.
"If you dare walk out of this room tonight like that… don't ever think of coming back. Unless I allow it."
King froze in place, shoulders trembling. For a long moment, the silence choked him. Then, slowly, he turned back. With heavy steps, he sat on the edge of the bed, forcing his tears into silence. Carefully, almost timidly, he slid back onto the mattress.
He curled to one side, his body shaking, muffling his sobs into the pillow. The pain was agonizing, but he swallowed it because Win's words had left him no choice.
He thought he had nobody aside from Win. Not a friend he could lean on, not even family. Even his own mother had abandoned him, left him behind to marry another man. She had never once fought for him, never once stayed by his side. The only time she ever called was on his birthday, like a formality, a reminder she was still alive but not truly his.
So how could anything Win did to him cut deeper than that? If his own mother could ignore him, if she could pretend he didn't matter, then maybe he shouldn't feel so wounded by Win's coldness. Maybe this was just life reminding him again, he was never meant to be fully loved.
King sighed and wiped at his eyes, but the tears kept coming. He lay on the bed, curling into himself as quiet sobs shook through him.
As long as I'm not alone, he whispered in his mind. As long as Win is still here, I can take it.
He kept repeating the words like a prayer, like a lifeline to keep himself from breaking completely. His tears wet the pillow, his chest aching, but he forced himself to believe it.
It's okay, King, he told himself. It's okay.
Win heard him, every broken breath, every stifled cry, but he didn't move. He didn't comfort him. He simply closed his eyes, choosing to ignore the sound of King's heart breaking right beside him.
Just like that, King drifted into sleep first, his quiet sobs fading into shallow breaths. Win lay still, staring at the ceiling, listening to the rhythm of King's breathing. Only when he was certain King had truly fallen asleep did he turn toward him.
Carefully, Win pulled the duvet over King's body, tucking it around him with a gentleness that betrayed the coldness he had shown earlier. His hand lingered for a moment before he gave in, sliding closer until he wrapped an arm around King from behind.
His lips brushed against King's hair as he whispered, almost too softly for even the silence to hold.
"I can't watch you cry… but maybe I have to let you feel the pain I've carried. The pain I feel every time you ignore me, every time you act like my world doesn't matter to you."
Win shut his eyes then, his chest heavy with words unsaid, thoughts unspoken. For a long while, he lay awake, his embrace firm but fragile at the same time, as though holding King was both his weakness and his punishment.
At last, exhaustion claimed him, and he drifted off into uneasy sleep, his arm still around the man he swore he could never let go of.
In the morning, King woke up first. Quietly, he slipped out of Win's arms, careful not to stir him, and padded back to his own room. He changed clothes, trying to look presentable, and by the time Win was done getting ready, King was already seated downstairs, waiting.
When Win finally descended, sharp in his usual suit, his eyes flickered briefly to King but without a word. He walked straight toward the coffee machine, ignoring him entirely.
King swallowed, then forced a soft greeting. "Good morning, Win."
Win didn't answer. The silence was heavy, deliberate. King lowered his gaze, deciding not to push, and instead spoke plainly.
"I want to go out today. To meet a friend."
That caught Win's attention. His hand stilled over the coffee mug. Without looking at him, Win asked flatly, "Charlotte? Or who?"
King smiled faintly. "No, not Charlotte. Just… one of my old classmates."
Win shot him a look, repeating mockingly, "Just one of my classmates," before finally letting out a laugh.
King blinked, confused. "What's funny?"
Win shot him a sharp look, his voice rising with irritation. "You dare ask me what's funny? Do you even listen to yourself at all, King?" His laugh faded into a sneer, leaving King frozen in place, unsure if he should answer or stay silent.
"Old classmates," Win repeated, finally turning to face him, his lips curved but his eyes anything but amused. "This 'classmate' of yours… he's male, right?"
King hesitated, then nodded with a small smile. "Yes."
Win's smile fell instantly. "Then you're not allowed to go meet that so-called friend."
The brightness in King's face dimmed. "I've already told him I'm on my way."
"That's not my problem," Win replied coolly. "It's your problem, and your friend's."
King's chest constricted, but before he could say another word, Win's voice cut sharper. "You have work, don't you? But no, you're too fragile for work. Too weak to lift a finger in the office. And yet here you are, dressed early in the morning, eager to meet some man in the same hours you're supposed to be working."
He stepped closer, his voice low but laced with anger. "I have nothing else to say to you. You have ten minutes. Go upstairs and change into something suitable for work." His eyes swept over King's clothes with disdain. "Just look at yourself."
King glanced down at the shirt he wore. It wasn't anything extravagant, just slightly unbuttoned at the top, enough to give off a casual air.
But Win's expression darkened further. "You're desperate, aren't you? To seduce this 'friend' of yours? Look at how open that shirt is. Right now, go upstairs and change."
King huddled his lips together. There was nothing wrong with the clothes, nothing shameful about what he wore. But he didn't argue. Not with Win glaring at him like that.
Quietly, he rose from his seat and turned toward the stairs.