The restaurant wasn't crowded, soft background music flowing through the air as if carefully chosen to create a soothing atmosphere. Two steaming steaks and a fresh salad had already been set on the table.
Noah rarely dined out alone with someone. He sat upright, knife and fork in hand, his movements a little stiff.
He'd felt a faint fever since the afternoon, his body weighed down by a sluggish heat, but he kept it hidden. He didn't want to spoil the evening after agreeing to meet Ren.
Ren noticed his formality and smiled. "Don't be so tense. Just think of it as a casual meal. You must be sick of the boxed lunches on set by now."
Noah glanced up, the corner of his lips curving into a small smile. "A little… it's the same thing every day."
His voice was soft, carrying a slight heaviness. Ren didn't catch it, assuming Noah was simply reserved.
Ren nodded, slicing into his steak. "That's why you should treat yourself once in a while. What do you usually do when you're not working?"
Noah thought for a moment. "Running, dancing, listening to music… If I have time, I cook for myself."
Ren raised his brows, surprised. "You can cook?"
Noah lowered his head, the tips of his ears flushing pink. "Mm… but only simple things. Scrambled eggs, stir-fried vegetables, noodles."
Ren chuckled. "That sounds just like me before I started acting. I used to throw a pot of noodles on the stove and call it a meal."
Noah's eyes brightened. "Really? I thought someone like you—big star and all—would have a personal chef."
"Nothing that glamorous." Ren shook his head. "I still go grocery shopping myself. You should try roasting some chicken wings or making pasta next time. Not hard at all."
Noah listened intently, as though committing it to memory. "I'll give it a try."
"You look like such a student when you're this serious," Ren teased.
Noah blinked, then pressed a faint smile. "Maybe I'm just not used to it yet. Before debuting it was all training, and afterwards… work. I've hardly had meals out with anyone."
Ren's tone softened. "Then make more time for yourself. Work's important, but so is living."
Noah met his gaze, admiration flickering quietly in his eyes. "You make it sound so simple."
Their conversation drifted from favorite foods to movies they liked.
It didn't feel like a business dinner but rather two friends talking. Gradually Noah relaxed, his voice growing lighter, freer.
---
Across town, Asher returned alone to his apartment. The empty living room greeted him with a hollow chill.
He tossed his jacket onto the sofa, the tightness in his chest refusing to ease.
From the liquor cabinet he pulled a bottle of whiskey, pouring it into a glass. No ice. He downed it in a single swallow, the burn searing his throat but doing nothing to cool the storm twisting inside him.
All he could see was Noah under the lights, exchanging looks with Ren. The easy rhythm between them. The way their rehearsal earlier had brought them so close it was unbearable to watch.
His grip tightened around the glass, veins straining along the back of his hand.
Why the hell did it bother him so much? Just coworkers having dinner—so why did it feel like fire scorching his chest?
He poured another and knocked it back. The liquor burned, his breathing only grew heavier.
Frustration, impatience, anger—layering, suffocating.
He slumped against the sofa, staring at the ceiling with eyes gone cold. Then, suddenly, he sat forward and grabbed his phone.
Noah's name lit the screen. His fingers hovered, frozen for two seconds, before typing two words.
Where are you.
The moment it sent, Asher realized he'd lost control. Too late to take it back. Sweat dampened his palm.
Seconds later, a reply appeared.
—Noah had sent a location pin.
Asher's throat worked, his knuckles white around the phone.
He cursed under his breath, seized his car keys, and strode out the door.
Night swallowed him, his figure wrapped in fury.
---
Back in the restaurant, Noah set his phone down, expression faint.
Ren caught the glance. "Someone looking for you?"
Noah shook his head, voice low. "Nothing important."
Ren let it go and smiled. "The desserts here are great. Want to try?"
Noah nodded, his tone lighter. "Sure."
He had no idea that his simple reply had already pushed someone else to the brink.
Warm light spilled over the table, the air rich with the scent of sweets.
Noah tasted the cheesecake, murmuring, "It's really good."
Ren chuckled when he spotted a dab of cream at the corner of Noah's mouth. "You're so focused when you eat."
Flustered, Noah dabbed it away with a napkin. "It's just… been a while since I've had dessert this good."
Leaning his chin on his hand, Ren said lightly, "You should indulge once in a while. Keeping in shape is important, but one cheat day won't kill you."
"Mm." Noah's eyes sparkled faintly. He didn't think too much of it, only that Ren felt like an older brother looking out for him.
They kept talking, shifting from favorite spots in the city to funny little stories. Mostly Noah listened quietly, but now and then he chimed in, his laughter soft and fleeting.
By the time they'd finished dessert, it was late. Noah set his fork down, lips pressed in a small smile. "Thanks for tonight."
Ren waved it off. "Don't mention it. We'll go out again sometime."
---
The night breeze outside carried a chill, making Noah shrink his shoulders.
Ren opened his car door. "Let me drive you home."
Noah shook his head, calm. "No need. You go ahead."
Ren frowned. "This late, and you'll go by yourself? Not safe."
Noah dropped his gaze, the memory of that earlier message flashing sharp in his chest. Two words, stark and heavy: Where are you.
He knew Asher was already on his way. The last thing he wanted was for Ren to get pulled into it.
"I'll grab a cab," Noah murmured. "Don't worry."
Ren studied him a moment before letting it go. He smiled faintly. "All right. Just be careful."
"Mm." Noah watched him drive off, the red taillights fading into the night before finally exhaling.
Alone on the street, he glanced down at his phone again. His thoughts tangled, but outwardly he forced a calm mask.
---
Not far away, a black car idled at the corner.
Through the haze of a streetlamp, Asher's gaze fixed coldly on the slim figure waiting by the curb.
He'd seen Noah walk out with Ren, watched them talk at the door. Noah's smile—relaxed, unguarded—seared into him like betrayal.
Asher's fingers curled into fists on the steering wheel, fury blazing hotter by the second.
When had Noah ever smiled like that?
The air inside the car was suffocating, his breath rough, a vein pulsing at his temple.
When Ren's car finally pulled away, leaving Noah alone beneath the streetlight, Asher snapped.
He shoved the door open, his stride quick and forceful, each step heavy like a predator closing in.
Noah, head bent over his phone, didn't notice until a hand clamped around his wrist.
Startled, he jerked his head up—and met those pitch-black eyes.
"Asher…" His voice caught, chest tightening.
Before he could say more, the man's grip yanked him forward, hard, pulling him against a solid chest.
"Get in the car."
The voice was low, rough, quivering with restraint on the edge of breaking.
Noah's pulse jumped, his words smothered beneath the weight of that overpowering presence as he was dragged toward the waiting car.