Warm lamplight bathed Min-su’s living room, and a record player spun something old and wordless, its melody a soft backdrop. A bottle of scotch sat between him and Hyun-woo, half-empty, flanked by two tumblers.

Hyun-woo leaned back on the couch, legs stretched out, his bike jacket discarded to his side. He was lost in an infinite stare at the bottle they were sharing. Min-su sat opposite in a deep backed chair, hunched forward with his elbows on his knees contemplating the floor. He was oddly uncomposed, tired. They’d been quiet for a while, the kind of comfortable silence that settles between men who don’t need to fill every moment. 

"Do you ever wonder if you became the person you were supposed to be?" Hyun-woo asked, his voice low, contemplative.

Min-su leaned out and poured a little more scotch into his glass. Took the glass and then leant back in his chair. "Supposed to be? No. The one I could live with? Most days, yes."

"So... no regrets?"

Min-su chuckled, a dry, warm sound. "Everyone has regrets. I just don’t let them redecorate the house." He took a sip, letting the amber liquid warm his tongue. "Why? Is it hard to live as you?"

Hyun-woo didn’t answer immediately. His gaze drifted toward the window, seeing something beyond the glass. "I wasn't like this by my own design. I thought being strong meant... containing things." He paused. "Turns out it just made me smaller."

Min-su watched him carefully, his expression empathetic. "You saying you don’t like the man you became?"

Hyun-woo shrugged, a movement so slight it was almost nothing. "I don’t think I had many choices. Weakness backed me into this shape."

A beat of quiet understanding passed between them.

"So change." Min-su offered simply.

"It’s not that simple. Some things you mold so long, you can’t unshape them. I’m too far down the road." He paused, measured his next words. "How could I ever go back?"

As Min-su opened his mouth to respond, the door creaked. Eun-sol appeared in the doorway, a cardigan wrapped around her slender frame. She was barefoot, her hair tied up, clearly not expecting company when she came in. But she had heard enough. Her face said it, an awareness in her eyes.

"Sorry. I didn’t mean to overhear," she murmured, her gaze flickering to Hyun-woo. "Thought I left my phone on the kitchen bench."

Hyun-woo suddenly stiffened. The quiet, intimate weight of their conversation now felt too loud, too exposed. "I should go."

"Come on, you don’t have to..." Min-su tutted, a slight frustration in his voice. "You’re three drinks in, sleep on the couch."

"Thanks. I just... I’ve got an early start." Hyun-woo got up, gathered his jacket, and pulled his bike's keys from his jacket pocket, dropping them onto the sofa as he moved. He didn’t meet Eun-sol’s eyes as she stepped aside, saying nothing.

Min-su didn’t push further, simply watching him go. As the door closed behind him, Eun-sol stood there, quiet, still holding nothing but that flicker of unspoken understanding in her gaze.

"Did you really HAVE to come in then?" Min-su asked, his disappointment and frustration clear in his voice. Eun-sol looked sheepish at Min-su.

Hyun-woo walked alone through the dark city streets. The urban noise was a low, distant hum of traffic he moved like he wasn’t hearing any of it. 

The front door of Hyun-woo’s apartment opened with a soft click. He stepped in, not bothering to turn on the light, letting the city glow filter weakly through the windows. He dropped his bike helmet onto the sofa with a dull thud.

He didn’t take off his bike boots, nor did he remove his jacket. He walked directly to the fridge, pulled it open, and the cool white light spilled onto his face. He reached inside, pulling out a cold bottle of soju. He stared at it for a breath, then shut the fridge door with a quiet click.

With the bottle in hand, he pulled a glass from the cupboard. He slammed it down on the counter, then poured. His actions were sharp, a little reckless, and the clear liquid spilled over the side of the glass, forming a small puddle on the countertop.

He paused, watching the liquid grow, expanding slowly. He suddenly lifted the glass and, with a swift, almost violent motion, poured the soju into the sink, tossing the glass into the sink behind it, the clatter echoing in the silent apartment.