Luca has gone back to ignoring his texts, but whatever, Junho doesn’t care. Very much. Like, not a lot. Maybe a little.

Okay, a lot.

“Bully,” Junho mutters darkly as he glares at the screen. He just wanted to say goodnight, but is there any word in response to the bedtime selfie he sent? No.

He’s been left on read. After a bedtime selfie! A maybe, sort of hinting, just a little bit, but not really if you don’t squint, suggestive selfie. Like, his collarbones are in full view, his cheeks are nicely flushed after finishing with his nighttime skin routine, his black hair tousled handsomely. He thinks he looks pretty good actually.

And Luca has said nothing.

Weighed down by the betrayal, Junho sinks into his bed and tries very hard not to think about that toad anymore. Instead, he finds a great distraction in catching up with a webtoon he’s been reading lately. Much fun about dungeon adventuring, orcs and mages. An MC on a power trip, the type of lead that Ciana would get a kick out of.

He’s laughing a bit at one of the panels, not really thinking much when his subconscious mind betrays him. First, he feels a general sense of... of sadness sink in moments before he feels his stomach clench into knots. 

Just out of nowhere.

Any shape of smile on his face is wiped off immediately.

God, he’s alone.

He’s really alone.

Ciana isn’t with him anymore.

He attempts to focus on the story, zooming in on bubble texts, re-reading sentences and trying to comprehend their meanings. It’s all so useless. Nothing is sinking in anymore. His mind fixates on one thing, one name.

Ciana. Ciana. Ciana.

Where did she even go? What even happens after all of this?

Junho feels cheated. He had something, something. Something so valuable, treasured, necessary, needed by him.

Someone. He had her. Their relationship.

Everything. Their memories. Their inside jokes. Their arguments. Their shared laughter.

He’ll miss that sound so much. Just the wheeze of her laughter. The funny way she tipped her head back and would make the grossest sounding laughter just to egg him on further. Every story he ever told her, every time he ever came to her after a long day just to rewind, every time she shared with him her story ideas, and every time he performed her scripts out loud.

Their stories.

God, he’s alone.

And he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s going to do about it.

For a moment, Junho realizes he isn’t crying anymore. Not because he can’t, no. It’s because the sensation of being lost, of being pathless and stranded, is too overwhelming for him to break it down. Incomprehensible.

It sits there on his shoulders, terrifying him.

As if he’s a child too scared to look underneath his bed for monsters, he wants to close his eyes and hide from it.

So he does, he squeezes them shut, rolls over in his bed, and tries very hard not to think about anything as he waits to fall asleep. He doesn’t know how long he lays there, but it isn’t working, his dark mind dwelling on all the things he will never get to experience again, of all the experiences never been had, hurting and aching for—

And then his phone chimes.

Junho reaches for it quickly, desperate for the distraction—and can’t help the smile.

[ Good night. ]

It comes, surprisingly, with a picture.

Junho’s smile disappears.

“He knows he’s talking to a gay guy, right?” he asks himself, troubled as he zooms in on the photo and makes his way through scrutinizing it. First he eyes the annoying way Luca’s bangs shroud his pointed gaze and then his gaze ultimately finds his lips.

It’d be a lie to say he hasn’t noticed before, but in the photo it’s definitely more pronounced.

Luca’s lips are...

“Nope. Shut up brain. Save the selfie—no! Don’t save the selfie,” he mutters, failing to stop himself from saving the photo and being too damn ‘lazy’ to go into his gallery and delete it.

Oh, my, Junho thinks glumly, staring at the photo and the words.

Good night.

Feeling not so alone anymore, Junho sets his phone aside, turns onto his side and closes his eyes.

He can’t get those damn lips out of his head, but at least now he knows. 

There’s someone there.