chapter 152
The days after their argument passed strangely.
Nothing dramatic happened.
There were no slammed doors, no screaming matches, and no accusations thrown across the apartment. In some ways, that almost made it worse.
Haru simply stopped speaking to Raiven.
Or, more accurately, he stopped giving him opportunities to speak to him.
He woke up before Raiven whenever he could, slipped quietly out of the bed in the guest room, and moved through the apartment as though nothing had changed. He showered, made coffee, prepared breakfast, checked his schedule, and answered the messages waiting on his phone.
Then he made breakfast for two.
It became an almost unconscious habit.
He would place Raiven's coffee on the counter exactly where he liked it and prepare whatever he thought he might eat before leaving for the day. Sometimes it was something simple. Sometimes Haru found himself putting more effort into it than necessary, only realizing afterward that he had spent nearly an hour preparing a meal Raiven might barely touch.
He never waited for him to eat.
He never left a note.
He simply left the food there.
It was easier that way.
There was something strangely painful about continuing to care for someone while deliberately avoiding them.
He still made sure there was food in the refrigerator. When he noticed that Raiven had forgotten to replace something they used regularly, he bought it without mentioning it.
Nothing about his routine changed.
Except where he slept.
The guest room slowly began to feel less like a temporary escape and more like a place he had chosen.
That thought bothered him.
He didn't want it to become normal.
He didn't want to become comfortable sleeping in a room where Raiven wasn't.
Yet every night, he closed the door behind him and tried to convince himself that this was exactly what he needed.
Space.
That was what he had asked for.
Space should have made things easier.
Instead, Haru discovered just how accustomed he had become to another person occupying the other half of his life.
The first night, he had barely noticed it. He had been angry and exhausted, his mind too occupied with everything that had happened for him to think about anything else.
The second night was different.
He woke sometime after midnight and reached across the bed without thinking.
His hand met nothing.
Haru opened his eyes.
For a few seconds, he simply stared at the empty space beside him.
Then he remembered.
He was in the guest room.
He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling.
It was ridiculous.
He had slept alone before.
He had spent years alone in his first life.
He had survived far worse than an empty side of a bed.
Yet somehow, after getting used to Raiven sleeping beside him, the absence felt heavier than it should have.
He missed the warmth.
The familiar weight of an arm around his waist.
The quiet sounds Raiven made when he was asleep.
Sometimes, when Haru woke in the middle of the night, he would simply lie there listening to Raiven breathe.
He had never realized how much comfort he had taken from something so ordinary.
Now there was only silence.
Haru turned onto his side and pulled the blanket closer.
He refused to think about it.
The next morning, he made breakfast anyway.
By the time Nexus reached its final stretch, Haru had become almost mechanical about everything.
The filming that had once consumed so much of his life was finally coming to an end. His schedule had become lighter, and on some days he only needed to be on set for an hour or two before he was free to leave.
Normally, that would have excited him.
Instead, Haru found himself looking forward to returning to the apartment only because it was somewhere quiet.
On the final day, he stayed long enough to finish what was required of him.
The set was filled with the usual mixture of exhaustion and excitement that came with the end of a production. Crew members congratulated one another, people exchanged promises to keep in touch, and there was a sense of relief hanging over everyone.
Haru smiled when he was supposed to.
He thanked the director.
He congratulated the cast.
He took the photographs he needed to take.
Then he left.
He didn't stay for drinks or celebrations.
He didn't feel like being around people especially not him.
On the way home, he stopped to pick up food.
It was more than they needed.
He knew that.
Still, he bought enough for both of them.
When he entered the apartment, the silence greeted him immediately.
Haru placed the bags on the kitchen counter and unpacked them.
He separated Raiven's portion from his own, placing everything neatly into containers.
For a moment, he stood there staring at the food.
He wondered whether he should leave a message.
He didn't.
Instead, he walked toward the guest room.
Behind him, the apartment remained silent.
Raiven didn't come home until much later.
Haru was already in bed when he heard the front door open.
He immediately became still.
He could recognize Raiven's footsteps without trying.
They were familiar enough that Haru could tell when he was tired by the way he walked, when he was in a hurry, and when something was bothering him.
Tonight, his footsteps sounded heavy.
Raiven removed his shoes.
There was a long pause.
Then he walked toward the kitchen.
Haru stared at the ceiling.
He heard the refrigerator open.
A container shifted.
Then silence.
Raiven didn't eat.
Instead, his footsteps slowly moved away from the kitchen.
Haru held his breath as they approached the guest room.
For one brief moment, the footsteps stopped outside his door.
Haru's chest tightened.
He wondered if Raiven would knock.
Maybe he would finally say something.
Maybe he would ask him to come back to their bedroom.
Maybe Haru would open the door.
He didn't know what he would say if that happened.
The silence stretched.
Then the footsteps moved away.
Haru heard the bedroom door close.
He turned onto his side and stared at the wall.
His eyes burned.
He hated that some part of him had wanted Raiven to knock.
Sleep came restlessly that night.
Haru woke several times, each time briefly forgetting where he was.
Each time, the same disappointment followed.
There was no Raiven beside him.
There was only the empty room.
A few days later, Haru was offered a commercial shoot outside Korea.
It wasn't a particularly long trip.
The campaign was something he could easily fit between his schedules, and the timing was convenient now that Nexus had wrapped.
When his manager brought it up, Haru accepted almost immediately.
Maybe getting away would help.
Maybe a different country, different scenery, and a few days without the apartment would clear his head.
He told himself that was the reason.
He didn't mention that he was also afraid of what might happen if he stayed.
The trip itself went well.
Professionally, there was nothing to complain about.
The campaign was well organized, the people he worked with were kind, and the location was beautiful. Haru did everything expected of him. He smiled for the cameras, changed outfits, learned his lines, participated in interviews, and thanked everyone at the end of each day.
He should have enjoyed it.
Instead, he found himself checking his phone more often than he wanted to admit.
Sometimes there was a message from Sehee.
Sometimes one from Alice.
Sometimes there were dozens of work notifications.
There were no messages from Raiven.
Haru told himself that was what he wanted.
They weren't speaking.
This was the space he had asked for.
Still, whenever his phone lit up, his heart betrayed him for half a second before disappointment settled in.
On the third night, Haru stood by the hotel window looking down at the unfamiliar city.
He had expected distance to bring clarity.
Instead, he felt just as confused as when he had left.
Maybe more.
He wondered what Raiven was doing.
Whether he had eaten.
Whether he was practicing.
Whether he had noticed that Haru had been gone longer than usual.
He hated himself for thinking about it.
He had gone away to clear his head.
Instead, his mind kept returning to the same person.
By the time he returned to Korea, Haru was exhausted.
He hadn't realized how badly he wanted to be home until the car pulled into the familiar neighborhood.
For the first time in days, he felt a small sense of relief.
Then he entered the apartment.
And stopped.
Something was different.
Haru stood just inside the doorway, his suitcase still beside him.
The apartment was clean.
Not simply tidy.
Clean.
The difference was immediately obvious.
The dishes that had occasionally been left in the sink were gone. The counters were spotless. The living room had been organized. The cushions were straightened, the surfaces dusted, and the floor looked as though someone had gone over every corner carefully.
Even the small things had been put back into place.
Haru slowly walked farther inside.
His eyes moved around the room.
Someone had cleaned thoroughly.
He couldn't remember the last time the apartment had looked this orderly.
For a moment, warmth touched his chest.
Maybe Raiven was doing better.
Maybe he had finally pulled himself out of whatever had been consuming him.
Then Haru noticed something.
There was a piece of clothing lying on the floor near the hallway.
He frowned.
He walked closer.
Another shirt was a few steps farther.
Then another.
His eyes followed the trail.
A jacket.
A pair of trousers.
Another shirt.
The clothes weren't scattered randomly.
They formed a strange path from the hallway toward their bedroom.
Haru's expression slowly changed.
He couldn't explain why.
There was nothing inherently wrong about clothes being left on the floor.
It was their apartment.
Raiven had always been careless about certain things.
But after seeing the apartment so meticulously cleaned, the trail felt out of place.
Almost deliberate.
Haru picked up the first shirt.
He recognized it.
Raiven's.
His fingers tightened around the fabric.
He looked toward the bedroom.
The door was slightly open.
The apartment was silent.
Too silent.
Haru suddenly became aware of how heavy his suitcase felt beside him.
He hadn't seen Raiven since he left.
He hadn't spoken to him.
He hadn't even known what he was walking back into.
And now, standing in the middle of the spotless apartment, staring at a trail of discarded clothes leading toward the bedroom, Haru felt something cold settle in his stomach.
He didn't move immediately.
He simply stood there.
For the first time since leaving Korea, he wished he had stayed away a little longer.
Then he heard something.
A faint sound from the bedroom.
Haru's heart stopped.
He slowly looked toward the open door.
And for several seconds, he couldn't bring himself to take another step.