Jeon Jiwoon doesn’t talk much.
Days have passed since that Saturday. And Jiwoon does the bare minimum not to weigh too heavily on his best friend.
Hanjae stays by his side, in silence. He makes sure Jiwoon eats, drinks… and doesn’t stay catatonic staring at the TV for too many hours.
Sometimes, just like now, he sits next to him. Takes his hand and strokes it gently. But Jiwoon never looks at him.

Hanjae’s phone, resting on the kitchen table, keeps ringing. Emails, calls, messages: the university doesn’t seem willing to leave him alone, even though he warned he’d be absent for a few days.

“You should answer,” Jiwoon says suddenly, his tone low, tired.
“No. They can manage without me,” Hanjae replies, shaking his head.
“You know that’s not true.”

Finally, Jiwoon looks at him; the dark circles and tear-streaked irritation try to ruin his handsome features, but they can’t. Not in Hanjae’s eyes.
“You’re the class rep, right? Go.”
“But—”

Jiwoon squeezes his hand back, offering a faint smile. “I’ll be fine, Hanjae. It’s just a few hours, right?”
Hanjae bites his lip while that damn phone keeps ringing. He closes his eyes, then nods.
“I’ll be back soon,” he whispers, slowly rising from the couch. “Text me if anything happens, okay?”
Jiwoon nods. “I think I’ll take a nap here, on the couch.”

Hanjae watches him lie down, draping an arm over his face to block out the light. Then he grabs his bag, his phone, and leaves the apartment.
He would be quick, just enough time to fix whatever mess they had created.

Silence, but it doesn’t last.

Jiwoon keeps his eyes closed, but snaps them open when he hears the door. He slowly sits up on the couch, looking toward the entrance. He stiffens when he sees Minji on the threshold. His gaze down, mask pulled under his chin.
“Hi,” the omega says, almost in a whisper.

Jiwoon doesn’t reply. He turns back to the TV as if Minji wasn’t there.
Minji takes a step into the room. He keeps his distance, as if afraid to come too close.

“I know I made an unforgivable mistake,” he begins, voice broken. “But I swear it meant nothing to me.”
Jiwoon laughs, but it’s a cold, sharp sound. “How long has it been going on?” he asks without looking at him.
“Jiwoon…”
“How long?” he repeats, this time raising his voice.

The tone is enough to make Minji flinch. Jiwoon never yells.
“A few months… m-maybe…”
“Maybe a year, Minji?” Jiwoon snaps back, staring him straight in the eyes.

The air in the room shifts. The scent of the alpha grows stronger, heavier, almost suffocating. Minji stiffens, stumbling back slightly, instinctively covering his nose and mouth with a hand.

“Tell me if I’m wrong…” Jiwoon rises slowly, as if every move weighed a ton. “Maybe it’s thanks to him that you got into that agency?”
He steps forward, his pheromones growing more feral, almost savage. Minji retreats.

“Jiwoon, p-please…”
“What’s wrong, love, don’t you like my pheromones anymore?” Another step. “You used to go crazy for them.”

Minji hits the wall. He’s trapped, eyes trembling, lips parted with growing anxiety. Jiwoon towers over him, jaw clenched, breath ragged.

“Please… l-let’s talk…”
“Talk?” Jiwoon grabs his face with a trembling hand. His eyes shine with tears held back far too long. “Why don’t you use this mouth for what you do best, hm?”

“Stop it!” Minji cries, his voice breaking.

Jiwoon stares at him for a long, endless second. Then something inside him shuts down. He lets go of Minji’s face and steps back slightly. His shoulders slump, as though all the anger had collapsed into sheer exhaustion.

“I thought you were the love of my life,” he murmurs. His hands tremble. He runs one over his face, then steps further back. “But I was wrong. You destroyed everything—every moment, every promise. And for what? For success? For money?”

Minji stares at him, paralyzed, but there’s nothing threatening left in that alpha before him. Only pain. Raw pain.

Jiwoon turns, heading back to the couch. He lets himself fall onto it, almost sinking into the cushions.
“Leave,” he says quietly, without looking back. “I don’t want to see you again.”

Minji stands frozen for a moment. Then takes a step back, another, and finally leaves, gently closing the door behind him.

Silence.

Jiwoon digs into his pocket and pulls out that damned little box with the ring inside. His chest rises and falls in shudders. He doesn’t cry. Not anymore. But each breath feels like a sob stuck halfway.
He stands and hurls the box furiously against the TV.

But it wasn’t enough. The wreck inside his chest, the pain, needed something far stronger to let it out.