Won found Michael avoiding him completely — not even sharing a glance.

The apartment felt colder than ever, every sound amplified by the silence between them.

(Won sat alone on the couch, ruffling his hair in frustration.)

---

LATER THAT EVENING…

Won sat quietly in the dimly lit living room, staring at the floor. His untouched cup of coffee had long gone cold.

The front door clicked open.

Michael stepped in, his expression calm but his eyes faintly red.

Won immediately stood up.

“Michael, listen—”

“Let me say it first.”

Won froze, his heart pounding as he met Michael’s serious gaze.

“I......i can't believe I'm  saying this but I....I’ve liked you since high school, Won.”

Won’s eyes widened, stunned.

“Back then, I didn’t get it. I didn’t know why I always wanted to be near you... why I’d get jealous every time you smiled at someone else. But now I do.”

He takes a shaky breath, his voice soft but raw.

“I like you, Won. I really do. And it hurts—every time you treat me like I’m just some little brother… or some kid you took in because you felt sorry for me.”

Won’s throat tightened. He wanted to speak, but the words wouldn’t come.

“You don’t have to say anything. I just… couldn’t keep pretending anymore.”

He gave a faint, broken smile and turned toward his room.

“Good night, Won.”

Won reached out instinctively, his fingers twitching, but he stopped himself. The door closed softly behind Michael, leaving Won alone in the quiet.

Won sank back onto the couch, staring at the closed door, his heart heavy and confused.

The words echoed in his mind, louder with each step Michael took away.

"Shit"

Before he realized it, Won was already moving — heart pounding, legs carrying him out the door and down the dimly lit street.

He spotted Michael just a few meters ahead, walking with his shoulders slumped, his figure fragile under the streetlights.

“Michael!”

Michael froze but didn’t turn around.

“Don’t run away after saying something like that!”

Michael clenched his fists, his voice low and shaky.

"I’m not running away… I just— I just don’t want to make things worse.”

Won slowed his steps, stopping a few feet behind him. His tone softened.

“You idiot... Why would you make things worse?”

Michael hesitated, still facing away.

“You think I’d throw you away after hearing that?”

Won took another step closer, his voice trembling slightly.

“I just... I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

Michael’s eyes widened slightly.

Won scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, his usual confidence nowhere to be found.)

“Honestly... I never thought about you that way, because I thought you were just... you know, my family. My responsibility.”

He let out a quiet breath, his voice softening again.

“I’m not saying I understand everything yet. But I don’t want you to keep hurting either.”

He reached out slowly, hesitating for a brief moment before pulling Michael gently into his arms.

Michael stiffened at first, his heart racing, but then his hands found their way to Won’s shirt — gripping tightly, as if afraid he’d disappear.

“Let’s figure this out together. Okay?”

Michael’s eyes stung as he buried his face against Won’s chest. The night was silent except for the faint sound of their breathing — steady, uncertain, but finally in sync.

-----

In the days that followed, something between them shifted.

It wasn’t awkward — not exactly. Just... quieter. Softer.

Won started coming home earlier than usual. Sometimes he’d show up with small things — a drink Michael liked, a snack he’d once mentioned in passing. He never said why, never made a big deal out of it, but Michael noticed every single time.

And Michael — he seemed lighter. He smiled more. Laughed at Won’s sarcastic remarks. He didn’t flinch anymore when Won teased him; instead, he’d just roll his eyes and lean against him on the couch as they watched TV together.

It wasn’t perfect. But it felt real.

“Won... you don’t have to act differently just because I said I liked you.”

Won froze for a moment, glancing down at him.

“I’m not acting differently.”

“You are…”

Won let out a breath, turning his gaze to meet Michael’s eyes.

“Truth is… I don’t know how to be good at this.”

Michael smiled faintly, his tone gentle.

 “You don’t have to be good. Just stay.”

Won’s chest tightened. For once, there was no need to hide behind teasing or sarcasm. He reached out and ruffled Michael’s hair lightly.

 “Sure.”

Michael leaned closer, eyes closing as the soft hum of the TV filled the room. Won didn’t move away. For the first time in a long while, peace didn’t feel like something he had to chase — it was right there, sitting beside him.

-----

LATER THAT NIGHT

The bar was dimly lit, bathed in the low hum of conversations and the soft clinking of glasses. A lazy haze of smoke curled above the counter where Won sat, staring blankly at the amber liquid in his glass. His reflection wavered in it—tired, unfocused, lost.

Across from him, Sean wiped down a glass with a towel, studying him with an amused tilt of his brow.

“You look like shit,” 

Sean said bluntly.

Won huffed out a humorless laugh and lifted his glass, setting it back down without taking a sip.

 “Thanks. Needed to hear that.”

Sean smirked, leaning casually against the counter.

 “You’ve been coming here more than usual. Something eating at you?”

Won didn’t answer at first. His fingers tapped lightly against the counter, restless and uncertain. Finally, he exhaled and muttered,

 “I don’t wanna lose him… or hurt him.”

Sean’s brow arched higher. 

“Michael, huh?”

Won’s shoulders stiffened. He rubbed a hand over his face, then nodded, voice low and rough. 

“He’s been with me for years. At first, I didn’t think much of it… but now?” 

He paused, his words quieter, more to himself than anyone else.

 “Now it’s different.”

Sean watched him for a long moment, then poured himself a drink, the sound of liquid meeting glass sharp in the quiet. He took a slow sip before speaking.

“Well,” 

he said, a faint smirk playing at his lips, 

“that makes things interesting.”

Won’s gaze snapped up, sharp and questioning.

 “What do you mean?”

Sean leaned in, swirling the glass lazily. 

“Because you’re involved with him, and you don’t even know it.”

A sharp clink filled the air as Won’s grip tightened around his glass. His jaw flexed.

 “What the hell are you talking about?”

Sean chuckled, unbothered. He set the glass down and began wiping the counter again, his tone casual but cutting.

 “Michael. He’s already too deep in this with you, even if you haven’t realized it yet.”

The words hit harder than Won expected. They sank deep—too deep—until they found that part of him he tried so hard to ignore.

Images flashed through his mind: Michael’s lingering glances, the subtle jealousy he tried to hide, the quiet loyalty that never wavered. The countless times he’d waited for Won to come home, the way he smiled even after being hurt.

It all came crashing back at once.

Won pushed back from the counter abruptly. The chair scraped loudly against the floor, startling a few people nearby.

Sean lifted an eyebrow. 

“Whoa—where are you going?”

“Home,”

 Won said firmly, grabbing his coat. His voice was tight, breath uneven.

Sean watched him with that same knowing smirk, the kind that made Won’s skin crawl with irritation.

 “Do you really have to leave every time we talk about your brother?”

Won froze mid-step but didn’t look back. The word brother lingered in the air like poison.

Without another word, he stormed out of the bar.

The night air hit him hard, cold and sharp against his flushed skin. His footsteps echoed down the empty street as his heart pounded in his chest.

Sean’s voice, though distant now, lingered in his head.

Won’s hand clenched into a fist.

 “What does he mean… ‘too deep in this’? Damn it, Sean.”

He exhales sharply, trying to shake it off — but his chest won’t stop tightening.

----

AT HOME

The apartment is dark when Won walks in. The faint glow from the kitchen light spills into the living room. He notices Michael asleep on the couch, curled up with a blanket, the TV still on.

Won stops, standing quietly by the doorway. His eyes soften as he watches him breathe — steady, peaceful. He looks so small like that.

Won steps closer, kneeling beside the couch. He gently adjusts the blanket around Michael’s shoulders. His fingers pause, brushing against Michael’s hair — soft and warm.

"Why do you always make it so damn hard to stay away…?”

Michael stirs slightly, his eyes fluttering open, voice drowsy.

“...Won?”

“Yeah. Go back to sleep.”

Michael blinks at him sleepily, then frowns.

“You smell like alcohol.”

“You’re sharp even half-asleep.”

“What were you doing?”

“Thinking.”

“About what?”

Won looks at him — really looks — and for a moment, his guard drops. His voice comes out low, honest.

“You.”

Michael’s breath catches, his eyes wide. The room falls silent, heavy with unspoken things.

“Me…?”