(Minjae’s POV)

Minjae didn’t sleep.

He spent most of the night flipping through old photos on his camera, the ones he never posted. The imperfect ones. Out-of-focus. Overexposed. Accidentally intimate.

He found one of Kaito from that second night they met.

Half-lit by the vending machine. Shoulders hunched, tie slightly loose, staring down at his phone like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.

Minjae had snapped the shot without asking. At the time, it was just good lighting. Good mood. A good subject.

But now it looked like something else.

Something personal.

Something fragile.

He scrolled past it quickly.

Why did Ryuji have to show up now?
Why did it matter if Kaito had a past? Everyone had a past. Hell, Minjae’s was a graveyard of almosts and maybes and people who couldn’t hold the version of him that didn’t know how to stay still.

And yet… Ryuji had said something that stuck like gum on a shoe.

“If he falls, he falls hard.”

Minjae sat back in his chair, ran a hand through his hair.

What if he was the one who fell first?

The next day

Minjae didn’t text Kaito.

It wasn’t out of spite. Or pride.

It was just… fear.

And the tiniest need to know if Kaito would notice.

Would reach out.

Would come looking.

But the silence stretched. Morning became afternoon. The sun dipped. Streetlights flickered on outside his window. And nothing came.

So when his phone finally buzzed at 8:42 p.m., he didn’t hesitate to snatch it up.

Kaito:
“Finished early. You up?”

Minjae stared at the screen.

His fingers flew across the keyboard before his brain caught up.

Minjae:
“Only if you’re bringing beer.”

Kaito:
“On my way.”

Minjae tossed his phone down and stood in the middle of his apartment, suddenly hyperaware of how messy it was. There were socks near the couch. A half-eaten onigiri on the desk. Three lens caps in places they absolutely didn’t belong.

Why do I care?

He picked up a few things anyway.

Then he checked the mirror.

Then he laughed at himself.

Twenty-five minutes later, Kaito stood in his doorway, holding a six-pack and a bag of convenience store snacks.

“You look tired,” Minjae said.

Kaito raised an eyebrow. “You look surprised.”

“I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

“I said I would.”

Minjae stepped back to let him in.

Kaito took off his shoes, set everything on the table, and gave him a look. “Are you okay?”

Minjae hesitated.

“I ran into your friend,” he said finally.

Kaito didn’t blink. “Ryuji?”

“Yeah.”

Kaito nodded slowly. “What did he say?”

Minjae shrugged. “That you fall hard. And don’t fall often.”

Kaito looked away.

“I didn’t like him much,” Minjae added, softer.

Kaito’s eyes flicked back to his.

“Because he saw parts of you I’m only just learning about,” Minjae said. “And that pissed me off.”

Silence.

Minjae leaned back on the counter, fingers tapping the edge.

“I don’t want to get in the middle of something that’s not finished,” he said. “But I also… don’t want to walk away.”

Kaito moved closer, slow and steady, until they were only a breath apart.

“There’s nothing unfinished,” he said. “Not with him.”

Minjae searched his face. “And with me?”

Kaito’s hand brushed against his, just enough to feel like a decision.

“I don’t know what this is yet,” he said. “But I keep choosing it.”

Minjae swallowed hard. “Then maybe I can, too.”

They didn’t kiss.

Not yet.

But the silence between them felt less like absence now.

More like promise.

Later

Minjae watched Kaito fall asleep on the couch, tie loosened, one hand resting over his stomach, like he hadn’t meant to stay that long but couldn’t help it.

He raised the camera slowly.

Clicked the shutter.

Kaito didn’t stir.

Minjae looked at the screen.

It wasn’t perfect.

A little grainy. A little dark.

But honest.

He didn’t delete it.