Chapter 13
The morning sunlight didn't wake him.
It was the dryness in his throat. The sting behind his eyes. The silence pressing down on the room like it had weight.
Eun Wol blinked at the ceiling, unsure if he had slept at all. His body ached everywhere, as if his skin had bruised from the inside out.
The bottle lay tipped on the floor. Empty. Or close enough.
He pushed himself up slowly, the weight of the night before still clinging to his bones. His shirt clung damp against his back. He couldn't tell if it was sweat or tears, and he didn't want to.
His phone buzzed. A name lit the screen—Soo Young.
Eun Wol's thumb hovered, but he didn't answer. The screen dimmed, leaving him in silence again.
He moved through the apartment, one room to the next, not searching for anything, not heading anywhere. Just moving, because standing still made the quiet unbearable.
The couch swallowed him when he sank into it, the fabric rough against his skin. The apartment felt too quiet, too empty, as if even the walls had given up on filling the silence.
Time smeared together. Morning, night, it all bled into one long ache.
He tried tidying, clearing the clutter, stacking bottles on the table. But his hands trembled too much to bring order to anything.
When his stomach growled, he ignored it. Eating felt like admitting he still existed. Instead, his hand reached without thought, finding the cold glass that waited for him. The bottle was heavy, cruel, familiar.
One sip. Bitter and sharp. Then another.
The burn numbed everything for a moment. The room began to sway gently, rocking him like a cruel lullaby.
He clung to it. The numbness. The blur. Anything but the weight pressing in.
Tears slid down his cheeks, mingling with the sting of alcohol. His throat burned as he swallowed them back.
The bottle tipped again, almost empty. Still, he drank.
The haze grew thick. His vision blurred, the edges of the world softening.
Finally, he closed his eyes. Just for a moment.
But the moment stretched into a darkness he couldn't escape.
In the blackness, a voice that sounded soft and desperate slipped through like a knife.
"Oppa… please…"
Eun Wol jolted awake, his heart hammering so violently it felt like it might burst from his chest. The nightmare clung to him like a shadow he couldn't shake. Eun Bin's pale face burned into his vision, her eyes wide with terror, trembling hands reaching for him.
"Save me…"
His breath caught, sharp and uneven. The bottle slipped from his grasp, shattering against the floor, the sound splintering through the silence. He buried his face in his hands, choking on the scream he couldn't release, the one that clawed at his throat until it hurt just to breathe.
*
Miles away, Gyu In's grip on the steering wheel tightened until his knuckles turned white. The city blurred into streaks of light outside the window, but his thoughts roared louder than any horn, louder than the rush of traffic.
Why hadn't Eun Wol picked up?
Why did Soo Young's voice sound off like he was swallowing panic with every word?
Three days.
It had been three days since the fight.
At first, Gyu In had let the silence be, stewing in his own anger. Fine, let him cool off. Let him sulk. But when the quiet stretched on too long, too heavy. It no longer felt like stubborn pride.
He'd planned to swing by the bar, patch things up maybe, throw in some careless words to break the tension. Instead, he was met with hushed voices, uneasy stares. Eun Wol hadn't shown up to work. No one had heard from him.
Something twisted in his gut. This wasn't just space. This wasn't just Eun Wol being difficult.
He hadn't even hesitated before demanding the address. Now, he was flying down roads he didn't remember choosing, cursing every red light like it was mocking him. The tightness in his chest only confirmed what he had been too afraid to admit.
He cared. More than he thought he did.
When the building finally rose in front of him, he didn't bother with the lift. It was crawling, taunting him with its pace. Screw that. He took the stairs two at a time, the unit number pounding in his skull with every step.
His fist crashed against the door. Once. Twice. Again.
"Eun Wol, open up. Please."
Silence.
He pressed his shoulder to the wood, straining to hear. Nothing. No movement. The lock stayed firm beneath his blows.
"Eun Wol." His voice cracked, quiet now, almost a plea.
Panic tore through him, black and urgent. He slammed his shoulder into the door, again and again, until the frame shuddered and splintered under the force. One last push and it gave way, swinging open just enough for him to slip inside.
The apartment was dark. The air heavy, stale.
Eun Wol sat slumped on the floor, head in his hands, shards of glass scattered like stars around him. The smell of alcohol hit sharp and bitter.
"Eun Wol…" Gyu In's voice softened, careful, cautious.
He moved forward slowly, like he was approaching a wounded animal—afraid to startle him, afraid to make the damage worse. He crouched down, reaching out to touch his shoulder, fingers trembling despite himself.
"Eun Wol… wake up."
A weak stir. A sluggish movement. Eun Wol lifted a hand to swat away the intrusion. His eyes cracked open, unfocused, hazy.
"Go away," he muttered, voice rough and broken, as if even those two words scraped his throat raw.
Gyu In didn't argue. He slid his arms under Eun Wol's frame and lifted carefully, every movement measured. The weight in his arms was startling—too light, too fragile, like holding something precious that might splinter at the smallest touch. His jaw tightened. How had Eun Wol been worn down to this point?
He laid him gently on the bed, smoothing the crumpled blanket over his shoulders. For a moment he lingered, head bowed, voice sinking into something softer than he'd meant.
"Don't dream, Eun Wol."
The words slipped into the air and stayed there, less a command, more a prayer. Maybe tonight, the nightmares would pass him by.
He pulled the door until it clicked shut, then leaned back against it. The sigh that broke from his chest was rough, carrying days of strain in a single breath. He slid down the wood until he was sitting on the floor, arms draped over his knees. For the first time in days, the wire in his chest loosened. His head fell back, the ceiling a blur.
But the room pressed in around him. Bottles half-drained on the table, clothes sagging over chairs, dishes stacked crooked in the sink. It was chaos, suffocating.
Gyu In dragged himself up. If Eun Wol couldn't hold himself together right now, then someone had to. He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, flexing his hands before setting to work.
He gathered bottles into bags, swept up the sharp scatter of glass, folded shirts that carried the faintest trace of Eun Wol's scent. He filled the washing machine and started a cycle, listening to the low churn of water against fabric. By the time he finished, the apartment looked almost like a home again.
Only then did he drop onto the couch, muscles screaming their protest. His body sagged into the cushions, the ache in his shoulders pulsing with every heartbeat. He looked toward the door, the splintered wood catching faint light from the street outside.
A short laugh escaped him. "Well. I broke in. That's new." He rubbed at his face. "Guess I should fix it."
Sleep caught him before he could think further.
*
When morning arrived, it was slow, pale light drifting through thin curtains. Gyu In stirred awake with a groan, joints stiff, neck bent at an awkward angle. He shifted and blinked toward the bed.
Eun Wol lay still, the tension in his features finally smoothed away. His breathing was steady, his lips parted slightly in unguarded rest. Gyu In let himself watch for a moment too long, the weight of all the unspoken things pressing harder than any exhaustion. At least he was sleeping. That was enough. For now.
Hours slipped past.
Eun Wol's eyes snapped open. His chest rose too fast, breath colliding with the frantic pace of his heartbeat. Something lingered. Hands that had lifted him, steadied him, carried him. It hadn't been a dream.
It hadn't been Soo Young either. He wouldn't have had the strength to drag him to bed, not with the state he'd been in.
His mind reached for the only other name that made sense.
Gyu In.
The thought alone made his throat tighten. It couldn't be. Not after everything. Not him.
Yet the possibility twisted sharp inside him. The idea that Gyu In had seen him like that...collapsed, shattered, too weak to stand made his chest clench with something he couldn't name.
Shame. Bitterness. Anger. He didn't even know which one burned hottest. They tangled together until the weight of them pressed against his ribs, hot and suffocating.
He blinked into the dim room. Then movement. The faint clink of ceramic beyond the door.
He wasn't alone.
His body reacted before thought caught up. The blanket slid off in one rough sweep, feet pressing onto the cold floor. His hand gripped the door handle and hesitated for one sharp heartbeat, pulse hammering in his ears. Then he pulled it open.
And there he was.
Gyu In sat on the couch, posture stiff, too straight like someone caught red-handed. His shirt was the same from last night, wrinkled, his hair slightly mussed, his eyes darkened by the absence of sleep.
Eun Wol's breath caught, a small hitch he buried before it could betray him. His face stayed blank, his voice flat, cold, carved from exhaustion.
"How did you get in?"
Each word clipped, forced through teeth that wanted to grind down on something harder.
His gaze swept the room on instinct. The mess was gone. Trash cleared, dishes stacked neatly, clothes folded, the air faintly scented with detergent.
Did Gyu In… clean? For me?
The thought twisted something sharp in his gut, something he refused to name.
Gyu In shrugged, the movement aiming for casual but falling short. "I fixed the door."
A scoff escaped Eun Wol, bitter and jagged. "There's a reason the door was locked. To keep people out."
"Yeah?" Gyu In's brow lifted, calm but steady. "And I had a pretty good reason to come in anyway."
Eun Wol's jaw tightened, eyes narrowing. His voice dropped into something colder, sharp enough to cut.
"Don't pretend like you care."
That one landed.
Gyu In rose slowly. Not defensive but grounded. He crossed to the counter, lifting a bowl that still released soft tendrils of steam. His voice slipped lower, quieter, as if the words were fragile things escaping against his will.
"I'm not pretending. You haven't eaten. A warm shower might help too."
Eun Wol's lips twisted, half-snarl, half-smirk—the kind someone wears when they're seconds away from breaking. His voice shook, just barely.
"Stop."
The bowl stilled in Gyu In's hands.
"Just fucking stop."
His breath came hard, uneven, words spilling sharp and cracked.
"You don't get to act like this. Like you're someone who gets to stay and do shit like… like this." His hand flung toward the room. "You saw me. You saw everything and then you cleaned the place and cooked a meal like we're living some kind of domestic fantasy—"
"I just thought—"
"Exactly." Eun Wol's voice snapped like a whip. "You thought. You always think. You think you can fix things by just showing up, doing something kind, and pretending that makes it better."
"I'm not trying to fix everything."
"Then what the fuck are you trying to do?"
His voice broke, cracking raw against the air.
"I don't know!" Gyu In's words finally sharpened, anger and vulnerability bleeding through. "But leaving didn't feel right either. So yeah, I stayed. I cleaned. I did what I could."
Silence stretched long, thick, almost unbearable.
Eun Wol's chest heaved, each breath weighted with shame and fury and something he couldn't name. His eyes locked on Gyu In, burning and confused.
"There are too many fucking thoughts in my head," he muttered, almost to himself, voice breaking low. "And I don't know what to do with them. I hate this. I hate this house. I hate myself. And you being here is just—" His breath hitched sharp. "—annoying the fuck out of me."
Something in the way Gyu In looked at him steady, unflinching, like he saw him stripped raw and didn't turn away—twisted the knife deeper.
"I can help you," Gyu In said, voice soft now, almost fragile. "There are other ways to deal with this."
Eun Wol stared at his face. Stupid, calm, frustratingly beautiful.
His hands moved before his thoughts could catch up.
He grabbed Gyu In by the collar, yanked him forward, and crushed his mouth against his.
Desperate. Angry. Messy.