Jihwa POV
I noticed it the moment Dohyun walked in, keys jingling in his hand like a warning. Something was… off. His shoulders were tight, movements small, measured, almost unnatural. The usual warmth that followed him like a shadow was muted, replaced by a strange hesitancy.
"Hey," I greeted, trying to sound casual as I set down my bag on the kitchen counter.
He jumped slightly at my voice, a little too quickly, and muttered, "Hey." No smile. Not even a flicker.
My brow furrowed. "You're… acting weird today. Did something happen?"
Dohyun glanced around, eyes darting to the window and then the door. I hadn't seen him like this before — nervous, tense, like someone was waiting to pounce.
"Nothing," he said too fast, shaking his head. "I'm fine. Just tired."
I leaned against the counter, arms crossed. "You're acting scared. You never act scared. Not even when your…" My voice trailed off. I didn't want to mention the old, painful history — the past he never wanted to talk about. But it hung there anyway, like smoke.
Dohyun's jaw tightened. "It's nothing, Jihwa. Seriously."
I studied him quietly. The way his hands trembled when he put down his bag. The way he flinched at the faint creak of the floorboards. Every tiny detail screamed the truth he refused to say out loud.
"Dohyun…" I said softly, stepping closer. "You can tell me. You don't have to pretend with me."
He looked at me then, eyes dark and heavy, and for a heartbeat, I saw the old pain flicker. The memory of the uncle who had sold him. The fear that had never left him.
"I… I just…" His voice caught, then faltered. He swallowed, looking down at the floor. "I can't. Not yet."
I felt a pang in my chest. I wanted to grab him, tell him it was okay, that I didn't care about the fear, just that he needed to breathe. But instead, I nodded quietly.
"Okay," I said. "But I'll notice, Dohyun. I always notice."
He finally met my gaze then, a flicker of shame in his eyes. "You don't… have to worry."
I smiled, gently, though my chest ached. "I do. Always."
He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck, small movements that made him seem fragile, almost childlike. I wanted to reach out, to wrap him in comfort, but he was distant, tense, as if my touch would shatter him.
We stood there in silence for a long moment, the apartment's quite heavy with things unsaid. I could feel the tension coiling around him, like a tightly wound spring ready to snap.
"Dinner's almost ready," I said finally, trying to lighten the air. "If you're hungry, you should eat."
He nodded stiffly, muttering, "Yeah… thanks."
Even as we moved to the kitchen, I kept watching him. Every careful step, every glance over his shoulder, every flinch — all signs that something was coming, something I couldn't see yet, but would soon.
And I knew, deep down, that I needed to be ready. For him. For whatever storm was about to hit.
I watched Dohyun move around the apartment, carefully avoiding creaking floorboards, pausing at the window to glance outside, then quickly drawing the curtain. He hadn't said much since we got home, and the tension clung to him like a second skin.
"Dohyun… seriously, what's going on?" I asked again, softer this time. I didn't want to push too hard, but I needed him to know I was here.
He flinched at the sound of my voice, gripping the edge of the counter like he needed to steady himself. "I… I can't talk about it, not now."
I stepped closer. "You can trust me," I said quietly, keeping my tone gentle. "I'll listen, even if it's hard. Even if it scares me."
He swallowed hard, his apple bobbing. "It's… it's complicated. And dangerous."
"Dangerous?" My stomach twisted. "You're not in trouble, are you?"
Dohyun's gaze dropped, dark and stormy. "Not exactly… but if someone finds out I told you, or even that I'm involved… it could hurt a lot of people."
I froze. The weight in his words pressed down on me. "A lot of people?" I asked, carefully.
He nodded, shoulders tight, jaw clenched. "Yeah… including you. Including Hwan."
I stepped back instinctively. My heart thudded painfully in my chest. "Hwan?"
"Yes ny cousin," he whispered. "I can't let him be in danger. Not like before… not ever again."
A cold shiver ran down my spine. I knew then that whatever was haunting him, it wasn't just a memory. It was real. Still alive. Still dangerous.
I reached out, brushing his arm lightly. He flinched again but didn't pull away. "Dohyun, I don't care what it is," I said softly. "I just want you to know… I'll face it with you."
He finally looked at me, eyes glossy with emotion he tried desperately to hide. "Jihwa… I don't want to put you through what I went through. Not you. Not anyone I care about."
"You're scaring me," I admitted honestly, my voice trembling. "But I'd rather be scared with you than left in the dark alone."
His lips pressed into a thin line, and for the first time, he allowed a small, vulnerable sigh. "You don't understand… Some people won't forgive mistakes. Some people… won't stop until they get what they want."
I swallowed hard, unsure how to respond. The weight of his fear pressed into me, a heavy, invisible hand. Yet even in his panic, I could see the man I cared for — the one who had always been gentle with me, protective in ways no one else could be.
I smiled lightly, the kind that always came naturally, the one he liked, even though he would never admit it. "Then we'll be careful," I said. "Together. You and me."
His eyes softened for a moment, a flicker of relief passing through them, but then he looked away, restless, like the shadows of his past were already pulling him back.
The apartment grew quiet again, but this time, the tension was different. It was no longer just fear. It was trust — fragile, shaky, but real.
And I knew, deep down, that however dark the path ahead, I wouldn't let him walk it alone.
The next morning, I woke to an uneasy quiet. Dohyun was already up, moving around like a shadow of himself. I could hear him pacing softly in the living room, every step careful, measured. My stomach twisted.
I poured myself a cup of coffee and watched him from the doorway. He hadn't noticed me yet. His hands trembled slightly as he checked his phone, eyes darting nervously to the window.
"Dohyun…" I called softly.
He jumped, almost spilling his coffee. His eyes widened, scanning the apartment, like he was expecting someone else to appear behind me. Then, finally, he relaxed — slightly. "Jihwa… you're up early."
I stepped closer, heart pounding. "You're… scared. I can see it. What's happening?"
He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "I can't… I can't explain everything. Not yet."
"Then let me help," I said, my voice firm. "I don't care what it is. I just want you to know you're not alone. Not anymore."
His lips pressed into a tight line, and for a moment, I thought he might refuse, might push me away. But then he took a deep breath, shoulders dropping slightly, just a little. "Jihwa… it's complicated. And dangerous."
I didn't flinch. "Dangerous how?"
He hesitated, then whispered, almost to himself, "My past… it's coming back."
My chest tightened. I wanted to ask everything, but I held back. Instead, I reached out and placed a hand gently on his arm. "Whatever it is, we'll face it. Together."
He looked at me then — really looked — and I saw the cracks in his calm, the fear he tried so hard to hide. He wanted to protect me, and yet he couldn't hide that he needed me too.
For a long moment, we just stood there, silence stretching between us. The air was heavy, electric, and I realized something: this wasn't just fear. This was a warning. Something from Dohyun's past was already moving toward us, and it wasn't going to wait.
Then the doorbell rang.
Dohyun froze. His hand went to the doorknob, but he didn't move to open it. I could see the calculation in his eyes — the caution, the instinct. Whoever it was, he wasn't taking chances.
"Don't…" he muttered.
I didn't need to ask. I already knew.
The storm we'd been bracing for had arrived.
And this time, there would be no running, no hiding.
I glanced at him, heart tightening. "We face it. Together."
He swallowed, nodding slowly, eyes shadowed but resolute. "Together," he whispered.
Outside, the rain had started again, soft at first, then heavier, drumming against the window like a warning — like the world was reminding us that the past never stays buried for long.
And in that moment, I knew everything was about to change.