Jungho didn't knock.
The door opened too fast, too loud, the sound cutting through the house like a blade. Suha flinched where she stood near the sofa, fingers twisted together, eyes swollen and raw.
Jungho barely registered her.
His gaze locked onto the living room.
Onto Jay.
Jay was sitting exactly where she'd left him.
Same position. Same angle. Same hollow stillness.
Elbows resting on his knees. Hands clasped loosely together now, no longer clenched, no longer trembling. His back slightly hunched, shoulders slack, like the weight of holding himself upright had finally become optional.
He looked… emptied.
Not frozen in panic.
Not shaking.
Just absent.
Jungho's chest tightened painfully.
He crossed the room in long strides and stopped in front of him. Crouched down slowly, careful not to startle him, though something told him Jay wasn't capable of being startled anymore.
"Jay."
No response.
Not even a blink.
Jungho waited.
Nothing.
He reached out and placed two fingers lightly against Jay's wrist.
A pulse.
Steady.
Alive.
Jungho swallowed.
"You with us?" he asked quietly.
Jay's eyes didn't move. They were open, unfocused, staring at a spot on the floor like it held something no one else could see. Or maybe like it held nothing at all.
Suha stepped closer, voice trembling. "He hasn't reacted to anything. Not even when I called his name."
Jungho nodded once.
His jaw tightened.
He shifted closer, lowering himself to sit on the floor in front of Jay, close enough that their knees almost touched.
"Jay," he said again. Firmer this time. "Look at me."
Nothing.
Jungho inhaled slowly, then reached up and gently cupped Jay's chin, guiding his face upward.
Jay let him.
That was worse.
His eyes lifted, but there was no resistance, no awareness. They were dull. Flat. Colorless in a way that had nothing to do with lighting.
Jungho had seen exhaustion before.
He had seen depression.
He had even seen despair.
This was different.
This was what remained after something had already died.
Jungho released his chin immediately, like he was afraid of breaking him further.
Suha covered her mouth, turning away sharply.
Jungho straightened slightly. "Can you hear me?"
Jay blinked once.
Slow.
Delayed.
Not acknowledgment. Just reflex.
Jungho took that as something.
"Okay," he said quietly. "That's enough for now."
He stood and gently guided Jay's arm over his shoulder, lifting him to his feet. Jay followed without resistance, legs moving when prompted, body responding to direction like it had been trained to do so for years.
No struggle.
No protest.
No will.
Suha watched, heart cracking open. "Where are you taking him?"
"To bed," Jungho said. "He's not staying here."
Jay didn't react to the word.
Didn't flinch.
Didn't argue.
Jungho paused at the hallway, glancing back at Suha. "Can you get some water?"
She nodded quickly and rushed off.
Jungho guided Jay down the hallway and into the larger bedroom. The one Jay never slept in.
Jay stepped inside without comment.
Jungho sat him down on the edge of the bed. Jay's posture didn't change. He stared at the floor, hands resting limply on his thighs, fingers slack.
Jungho crouched again, trying to catch his gaze.
"Jay."
Jay's eyes lifted.
They passed over Jungho's face.
Didn't stop.
Like Jungho was just another object in the room.
Jungho felt something ugly twist in his chest.
"You're not alone," he said anyway.
Jay didn't respond.
Jungho reached for a blanket and draped it around his shoulders. Jay didn't acknowledge it. Didn't pull it tighter. Didn't push it away.
Suha returned with the glass of water and held it out carefully. "Jay… can you drink?"
Jay stared at the glass.
Then away.
Jungho took it from her. "It's fine."
He set it on the bedside table.
Suha lingered, helpless. "Should I—"
"Go rest," Jungho said gently. "I'll stay."
She hesitated, then nodded. "Call me if… if anything changes."
Jungho didn't answer.
Because he didn't know what "change" even meant anymore.
When the door closed, the room sank into silence.
Jay sat unmoving.
Jungho sat beside him.
Minutes passed.
Then more.
Jungho didn't try to fill the quiet.
He just stayed.
Finally, Jay spoke.
His voice was flat. Emotionless. Almost mechanical.
"I didn't fall."
Jungho's breath caught.
"No," he said carefully. "You didn't."
Jay nodded once.
Then nothing.
Jungho waited.
Jay stared ahead, eyes unfocused again.
"I miscalculated," Jay continued after a long pause. "The timing."
Jungho's stomach dropped.
He kept his voice steady. "What timing?"
Jay didn't look at him. "If she had been a minute later."
Jungho clenched his fists.
"Jay," he said sharply. "Stop."
Jay blinked slowly, like the word had to travel a long distance to reach him.
"I wasn't upset," Jay said. "I wasn't crying. I wasn't panicking."
"I was calm."
Jungho turned fully toward him. "That doesn't mean anything."
"It does," Jay said. "It means I wasn't fighting it."
Jungho's brow creased. "Fighting what?"
Jay was quiet for a moment.
Then, softly, "It felt like something was calling me."
Jungho's chest tightened.
"Calling you where?" he asked.
Jay finally looked at him.
His eyes were empty. Not broken. Not wet. Just… gone.
"Not away," Jay said. "Not to escape anything."
He swallowed once, slow.
"It felt like death knew my name."
The room seemed to shrink.
"It wasn't loud," Jay continued. "It didn't threaten me. It didn't push."
His gaze drifted again, unfocused. "It just… stood there. Like it had been waiting a long time."
Jungho's hands curled into fists at his sides.
"Jay. You're still here."
Jay didn't look back.
"My body is," he said.
Jungho said nothing.
Because there was no argument that wouldn't sound like a lie.
Jay leaned back slightly against the headboard. "It's strange," he said."Everything feels lighter now."
Jungho's heart pounded.
"Because you scared yourself," Jungho said. "Shock does that."
Jay shook his head slowly. "No. Because I don't expect anything anymore."
Jay shook his head slowly. "No. Because I don't expect anything anymore."
Jungho closed his eyes briefly.
This was worse than tears.
Worse than anger.
This was resignation.
Jungho opened his eyes again. "You don't have to decide anything tonight."
Jay didn't answer.
"You don't have to promise anything," Jungho continued. "You don't have to feel better."
Jay looked down at his hands.
"I don't feel anything," he said.
Jungho nodded once. "That's okay."
Jay tilted his head slightly. "Is it?"
Jungho didn't reply.
Because the truth was no.
But saying that wouldn't bring anything back.
Jay lay down without being told. Turned onto his side, facing away, staring at the wall. His eyes stayed open.
Jungho remained sitting.
Hours passed like that.
Jay didn't sleep.
He didn't cry.
He didn't move.
Jungho watched his breathing. Counted it. Anchored himself to it.
Alive.
Alive.
Alive.
At some point, Jungho reached out and rested a hand lightly against Jay's back.
Jay didn't react.
Didn't lean in.
Didn't pull away.
But he didn't stop breathing either.
Outside, the city continued like nothing had happened.
Inside, a body lay in a bed.
And somewhere far away, whatever made it a person had gone quiet.
Not gone.
Not healed.
Just silent.
Still standing at the edge.
Still wanting not to exist.
And Jungho stayed awake, guarding what remained, knowing this wasn't recovery.
It was only survival.
For now.