Minjae didn't sleep.
Again.
But this time, it wasn't just because Seungho was there.
It was because of what he said.
He likes you.
And more than that—
I don't like it.
Minjae turned onto his side, staring at the faint light bleeding through the curtains.
"…You don't get to care," he muttered under his breath.
Not after everything.
The next morning was quiet.
Too quiet.
Seungho was already awake, standing in the kitchen, staring down at a cup of coffee like he had forgotten what to do with it.
Minjae paused in the hallway.
For a second—
He almost said something normal.
Something easy.
But the words from last night came back.
And the distance returned just as quickly.
"We need to talk," Minjae said instead.
Seungho didn't look up. "About what?"
Minjae stepped closer.
"Don't act like you don't know."
A pause.
Then—
"…About school?"
Minjae's chest tightened.
So he did know.
"Yeah," Minjae said. "About school."
Seungho finally looked at him.
And for once—
There was no teasing.
No smirk.
Just something heavy.
"…Okay."
It wasn't something Minjae talked about.
Not to Jiho.
Not to anyone.
Because saying it out loud made it real again.
Made it recent.
"You made my life hell," Minjae said, voice steady—but tight.
Seungho flinched slightly.
"I know."
"You don't get to just show up here," Minjae continued, "act like things are different, and then—what? Get jealous?"
"I wasn't—"
"You were."
Seungho went quiet.
And that silence felt like an answer.
Minjae laughed bitterly. "You haven't changed."
That—
That hit.
Seungho's expression shifted, something sharper breaking through.
"You think I don't know that?" he said quietly.
Minjae blinked.
"…What?"
Seungho looked away, jaw tightening.
"You think I don't remember?" he continued. "What I did. What I said."
"Then why did you do it?" Minjae snapped.
That was the question that had stayed with him for years.
The one that never had an answer.
"Why me?" he asked, softer now—but more intense. "What did I ever do to you?"
Seungho didn't respond immediately.
His hands clenched slightly at his sides.
And for a moment—
It looked like he might not answer at all.
But then—
"…You didn't do anything."
Minjae froze.
"…What?"
"You didn't do anything," Seungho repeated.
"Then why—"
"Because I was an idiot," Seungho cut in, his voice rougher now. "Because I didn't know how to deal with things, and I took it out on you."
"That's not an explanation."
"I know."
Minjae stared at him.
Waiting.
Demanding more.
And this time—
Seungho didn't look away.
"You remember the second year?" he asked.
Minjae frowned. "Of course I do."
That was when it got worse.
When whispers turned into open jokes.
When silence turned into isolation.
Seungho exhaled slowly.
"That was when everything at home started falling apart."
Minjae blinked.
He hadn't expected that.
"My dad lost his job," Seungho continued. "My mom… stopped being around as much."
His voice stayed flat.
Too flat.
"I was angry all the time. Didn't know what to do with it."
Minjae's chest tightened slightly.
"But that doesn't—"
"I know it doesn't justify it," Seungho said quickly. "I'm not saying it does."
Silence.
Then—
"You were just there."
Minjae flinched.
"What does that mean?"
Seungho hesitated.
Then said, more quietly—
"You were quiet. Didn't fight back. Didn't tell anyone."
Each word felt heavier than the last.
"And I hated that," Seungho admitted.
Minjae stared at him.
"…You hated that I didn't fight back?"
"Yeah."
"Why?"
Seungho let out a shaky breath.
"Because you handled things better than I did."
Minjae's thoughts stuttered.
"That doesn't make any sense."
"It didn't then either," Seungho said. "I just… saw you, and you were calm. Even when things were bad."
"I wasn't calm," Minjae snapped. "I was scared."
"I know that now."
The words were quiet.
Heavy.
Too late.
A long silence stretched between them.
Thick.
Uncomfortable.
Honest.
"…You don't get to fix this," Minjae said finally.
Seungho nodded.
"I know."
"You don't get to act like we're… anything."
"I know."
"You don't get to care who I talk to."
That one took longer.
But eventually—
"…I know."
Minjae swallowed.
Because part of him wanted him to argue.
To push back.
To be the same person he remembered.
But this—
This was worse.
Because this version of Seungho—
Regretted it.
"…Then why are you here?" Minjae asked quietly.
Not just the apartment.
Not just the situation.
Everything.
Seungho hesitated.
Then gave a small, tired smile.
"Because life's kind of a mess right now."
Minjae frowned. "That's not what I meant."
"I know."
"…Then answer me properly."
Seungho looked at him.
Really looked at him.
And for a second—
The walls between past and present blurred.
"…I didn't think you'd let me stay," he admitted.
"Then why risk it?"
Seungho's gaze softened slightly.
"Because I wanted to see if you were doing okay."
Minjae's breath caught.
"…That's it?"
Seungho nodded.
"…Yeah."
Minjae looked away quickly.
Because something about that—
Something about him—
Didn't line up with the person he had spent years trying to forget.
"I hate you," Minjae said quietly.
It wasn't loud.
Wasn't dramatic.
Just honest.
Seungho nodded again.
"…I know."
But he didn't leave.
And Minjae didn't tell him to.
That night—
The space between them felt different.
Not smaller.
Not warmer.
But clearer.
The past wasn't gone.
It wasn't forgiven.
But now—
It wasn't unspoken anymore.
And somehow—
That made everything more complicated.