Kia woke up first.
That alone was strange.
Ryan was usually pressed against him when he slept—warm, clingy, half-tangled in his arms like he didn't quite trust the world to stay if he let go.
But now—
The other side of the bed was empty.
Cold.
Kia frowned slightly and pushed himself up, the sheet slipping down his chest.
"Ryan?" he called softly.
No answer.
He sat there for a moment, listening.
The house wasn't silent. He could hear movement—quiet, deliberate—from somewhere down the hall.
Relief loosened his chest.
He got up and followed the sound.
Ryan was already dressed.
Not halfway. Not rushed.
Fully dressed. Dark clothes. Sleeves buttoned. Hair neat. Every trace of last night scrubbed away like it had never happened.
He stood by the window, phone in hand, posture straight and distant.
Kia stopped in the doorway.
Something tightened in his chest.
"Morning," Kia said lightly, trying to smile. "You left early."
Ryan didn't turn around immediately.
"Didn't want to wake you," he replied.
His voice was calm.
Neutral.
Too neutral.
Kia stepped closer. "Hey… are you okay now?"
That was the wrong question.
Ryan finally turned.
He looked at Kia the same way he looked at everyone else—with polite attention and a carefully placed distance.
No warmth.
No softness.
No trace of the man from last night.
"Yes," Ryan said. "I'm fine."
Kia laughed awkwardly. "You don't sound fine."
Ryan's jaw tightened—just slightly.
"You should get ready," he said instead. "I'll have someone drive you back."
The words hit harder than Kia expected.
"…Back?" Kia echoed. "Ryan, what are you—"
"It was a lot," Ryan cut in. "Last night shouldn't have happened the way it did."
Kia stared at him.
The air between them felt suddenly thin.
"Shouldn't have…?" Kia's voice dropped. "Ryan, you asked me to stay."
"I know," Ryan said. "And I'm saying that was a mistake."
Silence stretched.
Kia swallowed. "Did I do something wrong?"
Ryan's eyes flickered—for half a second, something dark moved there.
"No," he said quickly. "This isn't about you."
That somehow made it worse.
Kia stepped back, heart thudding. "Then what is it about?"
Ryan looked past him, toward the door.
"Go home, Kia."
The words were quiet. Final.
Kia stood there for a long moment, trying to reconcile the man in front of him with the one who had held him so tightly hours ago.
"…You used me," Kia said softly, not accusing—just realizing.
Ryan didn't deny it.
That was the answer.
Kia nodded once, slowly.
"Okay," he said, forcing his voice steady. "I'll go."
He turned toward the room to get dressed.
Behind him, Ryan closed his eyes.
Just for a second.
When Kia left the house, the door clicking shut behind him, the quiet rushed in like a wave.
Ryan stood alone.
He pressed his palm flat against his chest.
Nothing eased.
Nothing softened.
If anything, the emptiness felt sharper now.
Good.
He deserved that, without this, how can he be back to the normal him, this is how everything was ment to be, let it just stay like that.