Taemin's shoulders slumped, the sting of the slap and the shock of Juwon's knowledge leaving him deflated. The frantic energy from his ride bled away, replaced by a weary exhaustion.
"Juwon-ah," he said, his voice soft, almost pleading. "Just… sit down. Please. Let's talk."
But Juwon remained standing, rigid as a statue. He knew his own weakness. If he sat, if he let Taemin get close, if he looked into those eyes, his resolve would crumble to dust. He couldn't afford to be convinced. He had to be the villain. It was the only way to save the person he loved.
So, he did the only thing he could. He leaned into the pain and chose the most negative, hurtful interpretation possible. He let the fear and the need for self-sacrifice twist his love into something ugly.
