On the floor — chaos.
Sheets of paper, folders, printouts, numbers, names, signatures.
Everything that once seemed like a system now lay in disarray — like the broken internal workings of something.
Do-jun sat on the floor amidst the mess.
He wasn't cleaning, wasn't sorting — just looking.
His fingers trembled, but not from the cold.
Seungho walked into the room, stopping at the door.
— I thought you were sleeping.
— And I thought I could, — Do-jun replied.
His voice was dry, almost weary.
— But if I close my eyes, all this starts to move.
He looked up.
There were shadows under his eyes.
— I can't hold it anymore, — he said.
— Not the numbers, not the fear, not what's inside. It's like it's trying to crawl out.
Seungho moved closer, sitting next to him without touching.
— Then don't hold it. Speak.
— About what? About waking up with the feeling that something has already broken, even though everything looks whole externally?
He gave a weak laugh.
— That every morning I look to you for confirmation that the world still exists?
He exhaled, voice trembling.
— I'm not iron, Yun. I break, just slowly.
— I'm not asking you to be iron, — Seungho replied softly.
— I'm asking you to be honest.
Do-jun looked at him with a weariness that concealed anger.
— What if honesty destroys what we are holding together?
— Then it will show that we are holding the wrong thing.
Silence filled the room again.
Thunder rumbled outside the window, somewhere far away.
Seungho leaned down and gathered a few sheets.
— This is from the internal network, — he said. — I got the report.
— Which one?
— One of the directors sold the data.
Do-jun froze.
— Who?
— Kim.
The name hung in the air like a gunshot.
— Are you sure?
— Yes. We have proof. Financial trails, meetings, information transfer. He wasn't just leaking data — he was feeding the enemy.
Do-jun covered his face with his hands.
— That's… poison. Inside. Not outside.
— Yes, — Seungho said. — The network breaks from the inside.
Do-jun lowered his hands, his gaze vacant.
— And us?
— What about us?
— We are also part of the network. If it collapses, then we are under it too.
Seungho was silent for a long time, then he said:
— No. We are what remains when everything else falls.
He said it calmly, but the tension was audible in his voice.
Do-jun exhaled.
— Sometimes I think you believe in us too much.
— And you — too little.
He reached out and touched his cheek.
— Look at me.
Do-jun met his gaze.
— All of this is noise. Everything around us. Betrayals, reports, fear.
He touched his chest.
— But here — there is something that cannot be bought or sold. Cannot even be destroyed.
— You talk as if you can stop everything with a single touch.
— No, — Seungho smiled slightly.
— But I can make you remember why you started all this.
He pulled him closer — not for passion, but for silence.
Do-jun resisted at first; the habit of defense was stronger than desire.
But when Seungho hugged him, slowly, almost not touching, the tension began to melt.
— Everything will crash, — Do-jun whispered.
— Let it. The important thing is that we don't.
Yun leaned in and kissed him — slowly, thoughtfully, like a conversation without words.
The kiss didn't demand; it offered.
Fingers slid over his skin, cautiously, as if every inch was a question that didn't need to be answered.
Do-jun responded with movement — not passion, but trust.
He allowed himself to dissolve into the warmth.
Seungho didn't rush.
He touched him as one would heal — not to possess, but to put back together everything that had fallen apart.
When Do-jun exhaled and his shoulders dropped, Yun knew that now he could.
He could be close.
He could be silent.
He could simply breathe.
⋆⋆⋆
On the floor lay scattered papers — wet, crumpled, but no longer important.
Yun held him in his embrace, and a silence hummed in his chest — the kind that only comes after a confession.
The network was indeed breaking from the inside.
But what was between them — held firm.
As long as their breathing matched, as long as they didn't turn away from each other, the world could still be put back together.