Hyuk drove to Minjun's apartment as if clinging to a last hope. A strange feeling lived in his chest: a mix of anxiety and coldness that he couldn't shake off.
When the door opened, his heart skipped a beat, but there was no joy. Everything inside was in its place: books neatly lined up on the shelves, a blanket draped over the sofa, a mug on the table as if Minjun had just taken a sip. And yet, the room felt empty.
Hyuk stepped inside and took a deep breath, but the air met him with silence. A faint trace of Minjun's pheromones was on the verge of detection - pale, almost erased. As if someone had deliberately wiped out his presence.
He walked through the room, ran his hand over the back of a chair, and touched Minjun's favorite notebooks that were still on the table. He opened the closet - the clothes were there. Nothing was missing. Everything suggested that the owner would be back "in a minute." But that minute never came.
Hyuk slumped onto the sofa and buried his face in his hands. His heart was pounding in his throat, his breathing ragged.
"Where are you, Minjun?" he whispered, his voice muffled, almost choked.
He spent the night without sleep.
***
In the morning, Hyuk went to the university. Inside, he still held onto a tiny hope that he would see Minjun, hear his voice. He found a familiar curator and asked about him.
The woman looked at him in surprise over her papers.
"Ah, Kim Minjun? He took a leave of absence. The documents have already been processed."
The words hit harder than any physical blow. Hyuk recoiled as if the ground had given way beneath his feet again.
"What?" his voice trembled. "But... why?"
The curator only shrugged.
"Family circumstances, that's what was stated."
Hyuk walked out of the building, feeling his world crumble. He walked aimlessly, barely aware of where he was going. There was a void in his chest, and only one thought echoed in his head: "He's disappearing. He's being torn from my life."
***
In the evening, he came back to Minjun's apartment. The door was still closed, the hallway empty. He sank to the floor, resting his forehead on his knees and covering his face with his hands. No tears came - only a dry, searing despair.
"Minjun... please... come back..." he exhaled, barely audible.
And then - footsteps. Quiet, measured, coming up the stairs. The sound grew closer, each click of a heel echoing in Hyuk's heart.
He raised his head. Someone was coming up to the floor.