Scene 1: Unspoken Questions

The room is dim, the air thick with the scent of antiseptic and faint blood.

Seo-Jun sits in his chair, fingers interlocked, gaze locked on the man across from him.

Nikolai.

The name lingers in his head like an unfinished sentence.

He’s awake now, sitting up against the couch cushions, his movements slow, deliberate. His fingers hover near the bandages across his ribs, testing them without peeling them away.

Seo-Jun expects him to ask something. Where am I? What happened?

But he doesn’t.

He just sits there, studying the room, studying him.

Seo-Jun shifts. “You lost a lot of blood.”

Nikolai tilts his head slightly, like he already knew that. Like this isn’t the first time.

His gaze settles on Seo-Jun. Heavy. Searching.

Seo-Jun holds it for a moment before looking away. “You should be resting.”

“I don’t sleep well.”

Seo-Jun exhales through his nose. Of course he doesn’t.

A beat of silence.

Then Nikolai shifts, exhaling sharply as he tests his strength. Seo-Jun notices it too late—the momentary tension in his arms, the subtle tensing of his legs.

By the time realization clicks, Nikolai is already moving.

Scene 2: The Threat

Seo-Jun barely has time to react.

The chair scrapes against the floor as Nikolai lunges forward, ignoring his own injuries.

A sharp inhale—Seo-Jun stumbles back, but Nikolai is faster. His fingers wrap around Seo-Jun’s throat, forcing him against the wall, his grip firm but not crushing.

Seo-Jun’s breath catches, hands flying up to grip Nikolai’s wrist. Not tight enough to strangle, but tight enough to warn.

His body is trembling. Whether from pain, exhaustion, or something darker, Seo-Jun can’t tell.

Nikolai leans in, voice a breath away from his ear.

“Get the knife.”

Seo-Jun’s fingers dig into Nikolai’s wrist, his heart slamming against his ribs. “What—”

“Kill me.”

The words are soft, but they hold more weight than anything else in the room.

Nikolai’s hand presses him harder against the wall.

“Do it.” His voice is hoarse, low. “Because if you don’t, I will.”

Seo-Jun’s breath shakes.

Nikolai’s gaze isn’t just dangerous—it’s broken. Something fractured beneath the surface, something clawing at him from the inside.

Seo-Jun’s fingers twitch. His mind is screaming at him to move, to fight back—

But instead, he speaks.

His voice is barely above a whisper.

“I don’t know who hurt you.”

Nikolai doesn’t blink.

“I don’t know what you’ve lost.”

His grip falters. Just slightly.

Seo-Jun exhales, a single line slipping from his lips without thinking—as natural as breathing.

“If death is the answer, then why does the body still beg to survive?”

Something flickers in Nikolai’s expression.

A crack in the armor.

A breath. A hesitation.

Then—he lets go.

Seo-Jun coughs, pressing a hand to his throat as Nikolai staggers back, wincing as the movement pulls at his wounds.

The silence between them is suffocating.

Nikolai runs a hand down his face, exhaling shakily. Something in him has settled. Not calmed—just… settled.

When he finally speaks, his voice is quieter.

“I’ll stay.”

Seo-Jun swallows hard, still trying to find his own voice. “What?”

Nikolai sits back on the couch, his body heavier than before. “Until I recover. Then I’ll leave.”

Seo-Jun watches him carefully, his pulse still unsteady.

“You live alone?” Nikolai asks.

Seo-Jun hesitates, then nods.

Nikolai tilts his head slightly, watching him. Then, his voice turns sharp again.

“Don’t call the police. Don’t call anyone.”

Seo-Jun grips the back of the chair for support. “I wasn’t planning to.”

Nikolai’s gaze lingers for a beat longer. Then he exhales, shifting under the blanket.

“Take care of me for now,” he mutters, voice softer but still edged. “I’ll repay you later.”

Seo-Jun exhales slowly, pressing his hand against his chest. What the hell has he gotten himself into?

Outside, the wind howls again.

Inside, Seo-Jun is trapped in a storm of his own making.