“Let’s go home.”

Chan says it without even looking him in the eye. He turns his back, his hand gripping the doorknob.

Those words shatter the silence in the room like lightning ripping through the sky. Felix feels his muscles stiffen, his blood running cold in his veins. Still sitting on the floor, he watches as his best friend opens the door and walks out without a word, without sparing him a single glance.

Felix feels like a statue of salt—like he’s defied divine orders, gazing upon something forbidden, and this immobility is his punishment. He can barely breathe.

Then the door closes, and Chan is gone. For a moment, the voices and music from the party flood the room, only to fade again, muffled and distant, drowned out by the frantic pounding of Felix’s heart.

He’s gone. Just like that.

Felix’s fingers curl against the floor. All that remains of what just happened is a bitter taste in his mouth and his knees, reddened and slightly sore. His mind is blank, his thoughts cut off before they can form into anything coherent. He stares at a spot on the floor in a near-catatonic state. The first coherent thought that surfaces is: I fucked up.
The biggest mistake of my life.
My friendship with Chan is over.

But at least I gave him a blowjob.

That last thought feels like a bitter punchline. Felix chuckles at himself, running a hand over his face. If someone had told him this would happen tonight, would he have come to the party anyway? Probably. No matter how awful he feels now, it’s still more than he ever imagined. Way more. They kissed. Twice. They shared that moment.

It seems absurd when he thinks about it—he would feel giddy if he didn’t know that joy was just a placeholder for darker feelings waiting to take over. And sure enough, as he isolates that fleeting bubble, reality hits: he feels like shit. He doesn’t even know how to interpret Chan’s actions. For all he knows, Chan was so disgusted by it all that he couldn’t even talk about it. He walked out as if he couldn’t stand to see Felix, desperate to put as much distance as possible between himself and what had happened.

What was he thinking? Was he ashamed of how things had gone? Did he regret letting it happen? Probably. Definitely.

Chan had been drinking. Not much, but enough. Maybe, for a brief moment, he thought giving in to the lust might be a good idea—but as soon as the post-orgasm haze cleared and rationality returned, he realized how wrong it all was, how twisted.

Two men. Two friends.
So Felix became an error to be discarded quickly.

Felix blinks slowly.
He places his hands on the floor and pushes himself up.

There’s a mirror in the room, and one glance tells him his makeup is utterly ruined. It doesn’t matter. The façade was never convincing, not even for a second. He approaches the mirror and touches the cold surface with his fingers. He stares into his reflection and is startled by the anger he sees in his face. Seeing it makes him realize, for the first time, just how much anger he’s holding inside.

It isn’t sadness—that void in his chest that feels like a gaping wound.
It’s rage.

Because Chan was a selfish bastard who took everything and then threw him away like garbage.

He dressed as a woman to be there.
He played bait for his prey, even though he didn’t want to.
He felt humiliated and used the entire time.
And in the end, he was used.
And Chan’s reaction was to walk away.
Just that.
“Let’s go home.”

Case closed. End of discussion. Nothing to see here.

Bastard.

Felix steps out of the room. Chan is leaning against the wall outside, but Felix doesn’t say a word. He strides through the hallway doors under Chan’s confused gaze, finds a bathroom, and slips inside. He rinses his mouth, spits into the sink, and dries his lips with a piece of paper, which he crumples and tosses toward the bin—missing.

When he exits, he still says nothing. Chan doesn’t either. Silence. Each lost in their own thoughts, each battling their own resentment. The walls between them, though invisible, are impossible to ignore.

They don’t say goodbye to anyone. They walk out in silence, avoiding any social interaction, until they’re outside. The air is cold, but neither seems to notice.

They get into the car. The sound of the doors closing and seatbelts clicking are the only noises in the cabin, followed by the low rumble of the engine.

Felix thinks it’s up to Chan to speak first.
He owes it to him.

There’s no way he’s going to do Chan the favor of starting this conversation. It wouldn’t be fair. How much more does he have to do for him before getting a shred of justice? How much lower does he have to stoop to be treated equally?

There’s no traffic this late. The streets of Seoul have long since emptied. When Chan’s car stops outside Jisung’s place, Felix thinks, This isn’t fair. It isn’t fair to leave things like this. It isn’t fair to act like they’re teenagers.

And so, screw it. If he has to be the one to grow a spine, so be it.

He unbuckles his seatbelt, looks Chan in the eye, and says, “Don’t you think we should talk about it?”

Chan’s grip on the steering wheel tightens, his jaw clenching. He meets Felix’s eyes but then looks away, out the windshield, toward nothing in particular. “There’s nothing to talk about. You were completely drunk, and I didn’t handle the situation well. I’m sorry. But nothing happened. I don’t want…” Chan hesitates, stumbling over his words. “I don’t want this to ruin things between us. Now go inside. Please.”

Felix hesitates.
There’s so much he wants to say.
So much he wants to yell.

But he needs time to process it all.
The party.
The blowjob.
Those words.

It’s too much. Too many arrows coming at him at once for him to strike back.
He needs to retreat. He needs time to make sense of everything.

Maybe Chan expects him to say something like, “Thanks, you’re right, I’m sorry.”
But Felix doesn’t say a word. Not a single one.

He places his hand on the door handle, opens it, and steps out.

“Lix—”

Chan’s voice is drowned out by the sound of the car door slamming shut. Felix doesn’t look back. He walks to Jisung’s front door, slides the key into the lock, and slips inside.

The darkened windows make it impossible for anyone outside to see in.
Felix leans back against the door, hands covering his face.

Too much. It’s too much. Just… too much.