In those days that followed, the distance between them grew more pronounced, almost tangible. They didn't speak about what had happened, but it was evident in every glance, every hesitation, every deliberate avoidance. The air seemed heavier whenever they were near, filled with the weight of unspoken words and memories that neither dared to touch.
Whenever Jai saw Thorn in the hallway, he would pause for a moment, pretending to search for something in his bag, or suddenly veer off in another direction, even if it meant taking the longer path. He became meticulous in avoiding Thorn, calculating every movement so that their paths wouldn't cross.
At lunch, when Thorn sat with his friends in the canteen, Jai would choose a table tucked in a corner, shielded by plants or posts, where he could eat without feeling the pressure of Thorn's presence. And when their classes happened to be near one another, Jai made sure to leave early—or sometimes linger just long enough—to ensure they would never walk out together.
One afternoon, the two nearly collided on the main building stairs. Thorn was ascending while Jai was descending. For a fleeting moment—the briefest heartbeat—their eyes met. One second. Two seconds. Long enough for everything to come rushing back, long enough for every memory, every word unsaid, to surface.
"Jai—" Thorn's voice almost carried itself, calling his name before he even realized it.
But before he could speak again, Jai hurried down, almost running, and didn't glance back.
Thorn froze mid-step on the stairway, one hand gripping the railing. The words he had rehearsed in his mind, the questions, the confessions—they hung in the air, lost between them. It didn't escape the notice of their friends.
"Man, is there an invisible wall between them?" Art muttered once, watching Jai sidestep yet again.
"Just give it more time," Yujin said quietly. "Not all wounds can be healed with a sudden conversation."
Meanwhile, Jai's friends couldn't help but notice the small, almost imperceptible changes in his behavior whenever someone familiar was nearby—tension in his shoulders, a flicker in his eyes, a hesitation in his movements that spoke louder than words.
"I just noticed," Kim began one afternoon as they walked out of the classroom, "You always seem to have somewhere important to go whenever they're around."
Jai immediately glanced at Kim.
"Who?" he asked.
"Don't pretend you don't know, Jai. You're way too obvious," Kim shot back, a teasing grin on her face.
"Coincidence," Jai replied quickly, forcing evenness into his voice, trying not to betray the nerves twisting his chest.
"Coincidence?" Van echoed, his gaze sharp, "Or you're just avoiding someone?"
"What? Why would you even say that?!" Jai's voice rose slightly, surprise breaking through the calm he tried to maintain.
Van raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.
"Because every time you see—"
"Who are you avoiding, Jai?"
Van's question was cut short by Krit's voice from behind. All three turned simultaneously.
"Krit!" Van exclaimed, startled.
Krit stood quietly, eyes serious as they met Jai's. There was no anger there, no accusation—only the steady weight of concern. He didn't need words; the look in his eyes spoke volumes, searching for an answer that Jai wasn't ready to give.
Jai hesitated. His throat tightened again. He averted his gaze, fiddling with the strap of his bag as though adjusting it could make the conversation disappear.
"Nothing," he said finally, his voice clipped. "I'm not avoiding anyone."
But Krit knew him too well. The way Jai avoided eye contact, the slight clenching of his hands around the bag—every movement betrayed a truth he wasn't ready to voice.
"Really?" Krit asked softly, his tone even, patient.
The group fell silent. The hallway buzzed with activity around them, but the moment felt weighted, intimate.
"If you're not ready to talk, that's fine," Krit added gently. "But don't carry it alone. You don't have to face it by yourself."
Jai met his eyes. There was no judgment there—only care, steady and unshakable.
"I'm not…" he whispered, voice weak.
Krit didn't press. He simply walked alongside the group, keeping a quiet watch, leaving space but offering presence.
And even Jai knew this wasn't just chance. Every sidestep, every careful avoidance, carried fear, confusion, and pain. He didn't know if he was angry, hurt, or maybe both. Facing Thorn felt heavier than running away. It was easier to avoid the questions that had been buried for so long than to risk opening them again.
Days passed before their paths crossed again—unexpectedly, unplanned, and with no easy escape.
On the third floor hallway, Jai was leaving the classroom while Thorn entered from the opposite end. This time, there was no turning, no alternate route to avoid each other. Their eyes met. Jai instinctively stepped back, intending to evade again—but Thorn moved faster.
"Jai, wait!" Thorn called, his voice steadier than before.
Jai didn't stop. One long step, and Thorn reached him, gently gripping his arm—not too tight, not forcing anything.
"Can we talk for a moment?"
For a moment, Jai froze, caught between hesitation and the pull of something he couldn't ignore. A few seconds of silence stretched between them before he slowly pulled away, torn—part of him wanting to give Thorn the space to speak for himself, the other part aching to reach out and close the distance.
"Let's go here," he said briefly.
Minutes later, they found themselves on the rooftop. The campus below hummed softly, the distant sounds carried and blurred by the evening wind, but up here, silence held sway. Just the two of them, standing apart yet drawn together, the space between heavy with unspoken words.
"Jai khap!" Thorn called again, his eyes locked firmly on him.
Jai hesitated, unsure of what to say.
"Khap?" he whispered back, his voice barely carrying.
"How are you?" Thorn asked, softer this time.
"I'm… okay," Jai replied, his voice steadier now, though his chest still felt tight.
"Do you have friends here? Someone with you?" Thorn added, concern threading through his words.
"Yes," Jai said. "I have friends. I'm not alone."
Thorn gave a slight nod, a small weight lifting in his chest—but it wasn't enough.
"Can I ask something?" Thorn ventured, his tone careful, almost tentative.
Jai stayed silent, his jaw tight.
"Are you avoiding me?" Thorn pressed.
Jai bit his lower lip, and for a fleeting moment, he nodded.
"I'm not avoiding you," he said quickly, almost as if trying to convince himself as much as Thorn.
"Jai," Thorn said softly, stepping just a fraction closer, "Every time we meet, you immediately leave. Every time I come near, you step back. Did I do something wrong? Did I make a mistake?"
Jai's fists clenched at his sides, nails biting into his palms.
"Nothing," he said, but the words faltered, weak and hollow.
"If I did something wrong, tell me. If you're angry, I'll accept it. But don't treat me like—"
"Can you just stop?!" Jai's sudden shout cut Thorn off, the sound sharp and raw, echoing across the rooftop.
"Stop asking? Stop chasing me? Stop coming near me?" His voice trembled—not just from anger, but from everything he'd been holding in, every unspoken wound.
Thorn froze, caught between shock and helplessness.
"Don't you understand?" Jai continued, each word heavy with years of buried emotion. "It's hard to face you. Every time I see you, it all comes back—the day you left. No explanation. You left me like… like it was nothing to you."
Thorn said nothing, unable to find the right words.
"Do you think it was that easy?" Jai pressed on, the pain in his voice raw and unfiltered. "You come back, expecting everything to be fine, as if nothing ever happened."
Thorn closed his eyes, the weight of guilt and confusion pressing down.
"I'm not angry," Jai whispered, softer now but every word cutting deeper. "I'm just… confused. I can't pretend it didn't hurt. That's why I avoid you. Because it's easier than admitting… I still can't accept that you left me after everything I went through."
Thorn's eyes widened as he watched him, realizing for the first time the depth of Jai's pain, the storm he had carried silently all these years.
"Did something happen that I don't know about?" Thorn asked, voice low, serious, hesitant.
"Nothing. So please, just… don't come near me," Jai said sharply, every syllable a blade. "Since you left… I've tried to forget you. So don't ever come near me."
Silence fell over the rooftop. The wind whispered between them, carrying away his words. And for the first time, it wasn't avoidance in Jai's eyes—it was the truth, raw and unguarded, a truth he had buried for far too long.
Those were his last words before he turned and left, leaving Thorn frozen in place, wanting to speak, to reach out, yet knowing the moment had slipped away.
Later that evening, the Drift Lounge Bar glowed warmly. Laughter, music, and clinking glasses filled the air. Thorn sat with Way, Art, and Yujin, celebrating Way's birthday. Bottles lined the table, nearly emptied, and Art was the loudest of them all, grinning, glass in hand.
"Hey! For Way's birthday! No backing out!" he shouted, raising his glass.
"Too loud, Art," Way laughed.
"Go…go…go!" Art added, and they tossed drinks, laughing.
Thorn, however, sat quietly at the edge, glass in hand but barely touching it. Unlike before—when he'd be the one to crack jokes, invite another round, or stir laughter—tonight, he was distant, withdrawn.
Yujin noticed, gently swirling his whiskey.
"Thorn."
He didn't answer immediately.
"Thorn," Yujin repeated, more insistently.
Thorn blinked and looked at him.
"Hmm?"
Sighing, Art muttered, "You okay?"
"It's my birthday today, remember?" Way joked, leaning back. "If you have a problem, forget it for now. Let's just enjoy!"
Thorn forced a small smile.
"Yeah, sure." he muttered.
"Tss," Art shook his head. "Don't lie. I can see it on your face."
Thorn sipped the drink lightly, then set the glass down. In his mind, the rooftop replayed—Jai's eyes, his trembling voice, the words that landed heavier than Thorn expected.
"I need some air," Thorn said suddenly, not waiting for a response.
Outside, the cold night breeze swept over him. He walked slowly, almost oblivious to the world. The bar's light spilled across his face, but he hardly noticed. All he could see, hear, and feel were Jai's words, echoing over and over.
"Is it because of the kid you mentioned?" Yujin's voice came from behind.
Thorn turned slightly, surprised that he had followed. He didn't even need to ask who Yujin meant.
"Mm," he murmured.
Yujin raised an eyebrow, studying him quietly.
"So… it's serious, huh? What happened?"
Thorn paused, taking a deep breath. The wind tugged lightly at his hair, as if urging him to speak, to unburden himself.
"We talked," he said finally, voice low.
"Oh, I see," Yujin nodded. "So what's the problem?"
"The problem…" Thorn hesitated, his fingers tightening around the rim of his glass, "…He's mad at me."
"Why?" Yujin asked gently, leaning slightly closer, concern in his eyes.
Thorn inhaled slowly, shoulders slumping just a little.
"I hurt him, Jin." he admitted.
The two stood in silence for a moment under the dim streetlight. The distant music from the bar blended with the wind, but all Thorn could hear was the echo of his own guilt and Jai's trembling voice.
"I don't know how to fix it," he continued softly, his eyes on the empty street ahead. "For four years… I thought leaving him was the right choice. I didn't realize how much it would hurt him. Or how much it would hurt me to see him like this."
Yujin nodded slowly, giving him the space to speak, his expression steady and kind.
"I want to ask about everything that happened to him," Thorn said, voice barely above a whisper, "But I can't. I know he's angry… and maybe he needs to feel it."
"Is that really the only reason why he's angry at you?" Yujin asked thoughtfully.
Thorn frowned, looking down at his shoes.
"I don't know. Back then, he always told me everything. I thought I knew him. I thought I knew how to protect him."
"Because you two cared about each other," Yujin said simply, his tone calm.
Thorn exhaled slowly, the tension in his chest tightening and loosening all at once.
"I don't know why it feels different now. I can't stand knowing he's angry at me. I… I feel responsible. I want to make it right."
"Maybe that's because he matters to you," Yujin said gently, placing a hand on Thorn's shoulder. "More than you realize."
Thorn's lips curved into a faint, bittersweet smile.
"Yes… he's important. More than I can put into words, I've always seen him as someone I need to protect… like a younger brother. And yet…" He hesitated, the memory of Jai's hurtful silence pressing down on him. "I think I care about him more than I even admit to myself."
Yujin studied him carefully.
"Are you sure he's just your younger brother?"
Thorn froze, staring at the dark horizon. His heart thumped rapidly, truth and fear intertwining.
"I… I don't know," he admitted. "I've always wanted to protect him, to look out for him. But now… I see it's not just about duty. It's about him."
"But Thorn," Yujin said calmly, "He's not your responsibility."
Thorn shook his head slowly, taking in the words.
"I know… but I can't stop caring. I can't stop wanting him to be okay. To forgive me… or at least understand."
Yujin was silent for a moment, letting the breeze carry away some of Thorn's heaviness.
"Maybe, for now, give him space," Yujin suggested quietly. "Sometimes, the best way to show you care is to wait. Let him come to you when he's ready. And when he does, be there—not with expectations, just… there."
Thorn's chest loosened. He realized the truth in those words. Waiting didn't mean giving up. Waiting didn't mean he didn't care. Waiting was a form of love in itself.
"I… I think I understand," Thorn whispered, a warmth creeping into his chest for the first time that night. "It's hard. But it's the right thing to do. I can't force him… I just… have to trust him. Trust that he'll come around. That he'll see that I never meant to hurt him."
Yujin nodded.
"Exactly. Sometimes the hardest thing to do is the most sincere. Patience… and honesty, even if it's just with yourself for now."
Thorn looked up at the sky, stars faint through the city haze. He felt a quiet shift inside—a realization that the weight he carried wasn't just guilt, it was love, care, and hope all tangled together. And for the first time since seeing Jai, that weight didn't crush him—it guided him.
He would wait. And when Jai was ready, Thorn would be there. Not to demand forgiveness, not to explain, not to fix the past—but to simply be present. And somehow, that felt like the start of something he'd been longing for all along.
With each passing day that they crossed paths, both of them learned to avoid meeting each other's eyes. It became almost instinctive—like a silent agreement neither of them spoke aloud. A wall had slowly risen between them, invisible yet undeniable, and though it hurt to accept, it was the only way they knew how to cope… the only way they could give themselves space to think about what should come next.
In Jai's mind, facing Thorn felt impossible. Every time he thought of him, everything came rushing back—the pain of being left behind, the quiet loneliness of the days Thorn was no longer there. The absence had carved something deep into him, something he never truly managed to heal. And yet, despite everything, there was one truth he couldn't deny—he couldn't bear to see Thorn hurting. No matter how much he tried to push those memories away, the longing remained, stubborn and unrelenting, lingering in the depths of his heart.
He had been hurt when Thorn left him, especially during the moments he needed him the most. That pain had stayed, buried but never gone. But now, another kind of ache had taken its place—the realization that the words he threw at Thorn on the rooftop had wounded him too. Words he never imagined he would say… not to someone who once meant everything to him.
Meanwhile, Thorn chose to wait. He didn't force himself into Jai's space anymore, didn't chase after him like before—but the hope never left him. Even when Jai refused to look at him, even when he felt the distance grow wider with every passing day, Thorn held on to the quiet belief that someday, Jai would come back on his own. That maybe, just maybe, there would come a day when things would return to how they used to be—when they could stand beside each other again without hesitation, without pain.
Tonight, the air was cold.
Jai stood by the window of his room, staring into the darkness outside as if searching for something he couldn't name. The events on the rooftop replayed endlessly in his mind—the words he said, the anger he couldn't hold back, the pain he finally let surface… and the distance that now defined their every encounter.
Slowly, Jai closed his eyes. The weight in his chest pressed harder, heavier, until it became difficult to breathe. And before he could stop himself, a single tear slipped down his cheek, quiet and unrestrained.
That's when he realized—he had hurt Thorn too.
It wasn't just him who was in pain.
His hand instinctively moved to his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt as if trying to hold himself together, to keep everything from falling apart.
"I'm sorry… P'Thorn…" he whispered into the stillness of the night.