Tuesday Evening – Jungwon's Apartment
Kwon slumped deeper into the couch, nursing a half-empty mug of tea. The news played low in the background, casting flickers of light across the room, but his eyes weren't on the screen.
Jungwon sat on the other end of the couch, watching him.
"You've been quiet all week," Jungwon said gently. "Even for you."
Kwon let out a breath. "It's just… work."
Jungwon raised a brow. "You used to love saying that. Now you sound like it's a punishment."
Kwon laughed softly — humorless. "Yeah, well… this one came with a twist."
He hesitated.
Then, finally, he spoke.
"I got the job at Yosan."
Jungwon's eyes widened. "Wait — Yosan? The tech company?"
Kwon nodded. "Yeah. Big step up. Great pay. Solid reputation. I thought I'd made it. I was even… happy. The kind of happy that feels too quiet to trust."
Jungwon tilted his head. "What happened?"
Kwon gripped the mug a little tighter. "I didn't know until orientation. They gathered all the new hires in this glass conference room. Gave us name tags. Smiles. Coffee."
His voice grew distant.
"And then… he walked in."
Jungwon sat forward.
"He?"
Kwon met his eyes. "Tae."
For a moment, the room was silent except for the hum of the television.
Jungwon blinked. "Tae… your Tae?"
Kwon scoffed lightly. "He was never mine."
"Still. That Tae?"
Kwon nodded. "CEO of Yosan. Walked in like a ghost I thought I'd buried. And he looked at me like I'd never left his head."
Jungwon's jaw dropped a little. "You're kidding."
"I wish I was."
He ran a hand through his hair, exhausted. "I changed my number years ago. He couldn't reach me even if he wanted to. I applied blindly, not even realizing he was attached to the company. I just saw the listing, saw the opportunity. I was desperate for a fresh start."
Jungwon's voice dropped. "And now you're working for him."
Kwon nodded. "Under him. Directly. Of course, fate has a sick sense of humor."
Jungwon leaned back, eyes scanning him. "Has he said anything?"
Kwon hesitated. "Yeah. After the team meeting, he pulled me aside. Tried to… open something. Apologize, I guess. Said he didn't want to lose me again."
"And?"
Kwon's smile was bitter. "I told him I'm not the same boy who waited."
Jungwon stared for a moment before whispering, "Are you?"
Kwon's heart clenched.
"No," he said softly. "I'm not. But there's a part of me… a stupid, fragile part that still wants to ask why."
Jungwon reached over and squeezed his shoulder.
"You don't owe him anything."
"I know," Kwon whispered. "But sometimes I wish I did."
He looked out the window, where the city lights shimmered against the glass.
"Work is fine," he said finally. "I get the job done. I stay quiet. I don't look at him if I don't have to. I try to forget."
He paused.
"But it's hard when the past wears a tailored suit and walks by your desk twice a day like it still remembers the sound of your laugh."
Jungwon stayed quiet.
There was nothing more to say.
Yosan HQ – Friday, 6:48 PM
The office was emptying, the sky outside streaked with fading gold.
Kwon walked briskly through the underground garage, bag slung over his shoulder, earbuds in, mind locked in a singular goal:
Get home. Avoid Tae. Survive another day.
He'd managed it all week. Ignored the extra meetings. Took the stairs instead of the elevator when he saw Tae's reflection in the glass. Ate lunch at odd hours. Left early when he could, stayed late when he had to — just to avoid him.
But tonight, fate was less forgiving.
As Kwon approached the exit, the sleek black door of a limousine creaked open ahead of him.
And there he was.
Tae.
Leaning against the open door in a sharp black suit, no tie, sleeves casually rolled to his elbows, like he hadn't been obsessing all day over how this would go.
"Kwon," he called softly, as if the name alone could stop him.
It didn't.
Kwon's pace didn't falter. He walked right past, like he didn't see or hear him. His face was a mask.
"Kwon," Tae repeated, firmer now.
Still nothing.
So Tae moved.
In a flash, he caught up to him — one long stride, then another — grabbing his wrist just as Kwon reached the pedestrian gate.
Kwon yanked away. "Don't touch me."
"Then don't run," Tae said breathlessly. "Just one minute—"
"You've had years."
Kwon kept walking. Faster now. Practically jogging up the sidewalk.
But Tae didn't stop this time.
He chased.
And when Kwon spun around to shut him down again, Tae made a split decision — desperate, irrational, soaked in a longing he could no longer bury.
He grabbed Kwon again.
This time, he lifted.
Kwon's feet left the ground for a half-second as Tae swept him up, bridal style, his grip strong but not harsh.
"What the hell—?! Tae!" Kwon struggled in pure disbelief, slamming his fists weakly into his chest. "Put me down! Are you insane?!"
"Absolutely," Tae muttered, voice tight. "I've gone completely crazy, thanks to you."
He carried him back toward the limo, Kwon twisting in his arms.
"Tae, I swear to God—!"
"You don't have to talk. Just sit. Just let me see you for five minutes without you disappearing."
The driver, long used to seeing wild things in the rearview, wordlessly opened the back door.
Tae practically shoved Kwon inside — not violently, but with the kind of urgency only a man on the edge could have — and slid in after him, locking the door before Kwon could throw it open again.
The car began to move.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Kwon hissed, breathless, furious, cheeks flushed from shock and rage.
"Kidnapping you," Tae said without blinking. "Very gently."
"You've lost your damn mind."
"I've already lost you. This is me trying not to lose the chance to explain why."
Kwon sat frozen on the leather seat, fists clenched in his lap, jaw tight. His pulse was everywhere — in his ears, his neck, his chest. He felt like the world had tilted and thrown him into a moment he never asked for.
"You don't get to do this, Tae," he said, voice shaking. "You don't get to ignore me for years and then drag me into your car like I'm some unfinished chapter in your fantasy."
"I never ignored you," Tae said quietly. "I froze. I was scared."
Kwon scoffed. "Of what? Me?"
"Of wanting you too much."
The air between them snapped like static.
Kwon looked away, chest heaving.
The silence was unbearable — electric, heated, thick with memories and things unsaid.
Tae leaned forward, voice gentler now. "You don't have to forgive me. But please don't pretend this… whatever's still between us… isn't real."
Kwon looked him in the eye, fierce, vulnerable, shaking.
"It was real. And I buried it. I bled to let it go. You don't get to come back and make it harder."
Tae reached out slowly, palm up, not touching him — just waiting.
"I just want to know if you ever thought about me, too."
Kwon's voice cracked.
"I think about you every damn time I try not to."
He shoved Tae's hand away and turned to the window.
And in that breathless, painful stillness, the truth hung between them — raw, aching, and far from over.