“What are you....—”

Before Michael could finish, Won reached out, his hand wrapping gently—but firmly—around Michael’s wrist.

“H-Hey! What—”

Won’s gaze was intense, burning with something that made Michael’s pulse quicken. His voice, low and almost shaky, broke through the silence.

“I need to tell you something.”

Michael blinked, caught off guard. 

“O-Okay?”

Won hesitated. His throat felt tight, and his words trembled on the edge of honesty. Finally, he exhaled.

“I… I think I like you too.”

Michael’s breath hitched. His heart thudded in his chest, faster and faster until it drowned out every other sound in the room.

Won continued, his voice unsteady but sincere. 

“I didn’t realize it before. I thought it was just habit—caring for you because you felt like family. But it’s not. It’s never been. You mean more to me than anyone ever has.”

The confession hung between them like fragile glass.

Michael stared at him, disbelief flickering in his eyes. 

“You’re… joking, right?”

“No,” 

Won said immediately, almost too fast. 

“I’m serious—”

But Michael shook his head, stepping back, his voice trembling. 

“Don’t. Don’t mess with me like that.”

“Michael, I’m not—”

“You’ve had so many people....,” 

Michael snapped, his voice cracking as tears began to well in his eyes. 

“So many people coming and going. Night after night, different faces. I watched you bring them into this house like it was nothing.”

His tone softened, breaking apart. 

“So why now? Why me? Are you pitying me?”

Won froze, his chest tightening painfully.

“No. No! It’s not pity, I swear.”

But Michael only looked away, fists clenching at his sides. 

“I liked you for so long… and you never even noticed. I got used to just—watching from the side. I can’t take it if you’re just saying this because you feel guilty about that night.”

“Michael…” 

Won’s voice dropped to a whisper as he reached for him.

But Michael flinched from his touch, stepping back as his tears finally spilled over.

“I need to go…” 

he muttered, his voice breaking completely.

Before Won could say another word, Michael turned and rushed out of the room.

The echo of the door closing behind him was deafening.

Won stood there in silence, the words he wanted to say still trapped in his throat. The kitchen felt colder now, emptier.

He lowered his head, whispering softly into the emptiness.

“Michael…”

-----

Days passed in silence.

Michael avoided Won as if the air between them had turned poisonous. Every time Won caught a glimpse of him in the hallway, Michael would turn away, pretending not to notice.

At night, Won would stand outside his door, knocking softly.

“Michael?” 

he’d whisper, waiting for a response that never came. The room behind that door stayed still and quiet—like he wasn’t even there.

Each morning, Won made breakfast for two out of habit. He’d set an extra plate at the table, pretending it didn’t matter when the seat across from him stayed empty.

By the fifth day, the silence had begun to feel unbearable.

That evening, Won found Michael outside in the small garden, sitting alone on the bench. His headphones were on, the faint glow of his phone lighting his face as he stared up at the stars.

Won approached quietly, the sound of crickets filling the heavy air. 

“Michael…”

Michael turned, his expression unreadable—neither angry nor welcoming.

“I… I get it,” 

Won said softly, his hands shoved in his pockets. 

“You’re angry. You don’t believe me. But I’m not giving up. I just need you to give me a chance.”

Michael said nothing, only turning his gaze back to the sky.

Won sighed and sat beside him, leaving just enough space between them. 

“Do you remember the night we first met?”

Michael blinked, surprised by the question.

“You were so small and scared,” 

Won continued, voice low and trembling. 

“But you still trusted me… even when you shouldn’t have.”

His tone softened, guilt edging every word. 

“I’m not proud of how I’ve lived, Michael. I was scared too. Scared of getting attached. Scared of losing someone again. That’s why I distracted myself—with people who didn’t matter.”

He glanced at Michael, eyes heavy with sincerity. 

“But when I saw you crying at the door that night… something hit me. I realized I’d gotten so used to having you around, I never questioned what you meant to me.”

Michael’s eyes glistened as he looked down, gripping his phone tightly.

Won took a slow breath, his voice quieter now. 

“But the thought of you walking away from me… It scared me more than anything.”

A tear escaped Michael’s eye before he could stop it. He turned away quickly, wiping it with his sleeve.

“Please,” 

Won said gently. 

“Just give me a chance. Let me show you that I’m serious this time.”

The garden was silent except for the faint hum of night sounds. Then, finally, Michael’s voice broke through—soft, hesitant, but real.

“I… don’t know if I can trust you yet.”

Won’s lips curved into a faint, genuine smile. 

“Then I’ll wait. As long as it takes.”

Michael looked at him, startled by how sincere he sounded.

“…Idiot,” 

he muttered under his breath.

Won chuckled quietly, relief flooding through him. His eyes softened, full of quiet hope.

Michael sighed, shaking his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

“You better not make me regret this.”

Won smiled back, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I won’t,”

 he promised. 

“I swear.”

------

The next morning, sunlight poured through the classroom windows, bright and warm — a rare sight after so many gloomy days.

Michael walked in with his usual quiet stride, but something about him was… different. His lips were curved in a faint, effortless smile, the kind that seemed to appear without him realizing.

He slid into his seat, unlocking his phone with a small grin. A new message lit up the screen.

Michael’s smile grew wider. He quickly turned his phone face down just as Liam leaned over from the next desk, smirking.

“Well, well… what’s with that smile?”

Michael blinked.

“What smile?”

Johan from behind, teased 

“The one you’ve been wearing since you walked in. You look like someone just confessed to you.”

Michael’s ears turned pink instantly. 

“W–What? Don’t be ridiculous.”

Liam narrowed his eyes playfully, trying to peek at Michael’s phone. 

“You’re texting someone. Spill it. Who’s the lucky one?”

Michael quickly pulled his phone closer. 

“It’s no one. Just… a friend.”

“A friend who makes you blush?”

Johan asked winking back at Liam.

“Yeah bro.....you’ve been smiling at your phone for five straight minutes. You never even smiled like that when we told jokes.”

Michael tried to glare, but the heat in his cheeks betrayed him. 

“You two are unbelievable.”

Liam grinned wider, bumping Johan’s shoulder. 

“He’s totally in love.”

“Yup. Look at him! That’s the face of a man who’s fallen hard.”

Michael groaned, burying his face in his arms. 

“Can you two not make a scene?”

But his voice carried a softness it hadn’t before — not irritation, but embarrassment mixed with shy happiness.

Liam leaned closer, whispering conspiratorially, 

“So… who is it? Do we know her?”

Michael hesitated for a second too long.

Johan grinned

“Wait. Her?”

Liam blinked. 

“Oh no way. Don’t tell me—”

Michael stood abruptly, clutching his bag. 

“I’m going to get water.”

He hurried out of the room before either of them could finish their thought.

As soon as he was gone, Johan leaned back, laughing.

“He’s definitely in love.”

Liam nodded, still staring at the door with a grin. 

“And whoever it is… they’ve got him good.”

—

The evening sun hung low, painting the city in soft gold as Michael slung his bag over his shoulder. Just as he was about to head home, his phone buzzed.

Michael sighed lightly but smiled. Typical Rocky. He turned back toward the house, grabbed the neatly stacked envelope from the desk, and started his walk to the office.

The building was quiet when he arrived, the echo of his footsteps following him down the polished hallways. He knew the place so well by now—the faint scent of coffee from the break room, the hum of lights overhead, the cool air that carried a quiet professionalism.

Just as he turned a corner, a familiar voice broke through the silence.

“Michael?”

Michael froze. His pulse jumped before he even saw him. Won stood at the end of the corridor, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened, eyes soft but sharp as ever.

“I—I was just dropping this off.”

He held out the envelope awkwardly, his fingers trembling just slightly. Won didn’t take it. His eyes flickered to the empty hallway, then back to Michael, unreadable.

Then, without warning, Won stepped forward.

He reached out, his hand closing gently—but firmly—around Michael’s wrist.

“W–Won?”

Won said nothing. Instead, he guided him into his office, the door clicking shut behind them. The sound of the lock turning made Michael’s heart skip.

The air inside was heavy—quiet, but thick with something unspoken.

Michael’s back brushed against the desk as Won stopped just inches away.

“Won...?”

Won’s gaze softened for a fleeting second, then darkened again. He reached up, brushing his fingers along Michael’s jaw, his thumb tracing the line of his cheek as if afraid to break the moment.

His voice came low, almost a whisper. 

“You make it really hard to think straight sometimes.”

Before Michael could respond, Won leaned in—slowly, hesitantly—until his lips barely grazed Michael’s.

It was a mistake. It had to be. But neither of them stopped.

The kiss was tentative at first, a brush of warmth and breath, then deeper, hungrier. Won’s hand slid to the back of Michael’s neck, pulling him closer as if afraid he’d vanish.

Michael froze, startled—but then the warmth melted his resistance. His eyes fluttered shut. A soft, trembling sigh escaped him, betraying the storm in his chest.

Won deepened the kiss, his other hand finding Michael’s waist, pressing him gently against the desk. The world narrowed to this—his heartbeat, Won’s breath, the dizzying pull between them.

And then—

“What the hell are you doing?”

The sharp voice cut through the air like a blade.

Won jerked back instantly. Michael stumbled, his face flushed as he turned toward the doorway—where Rocky stood, arms crossed, his expression unreadable but cold enough to make the room freeze.

“Rocky...”

Rocky’s eyes shifted from Won to Michael, and then back again, his voice calm but dangerous.

“James.”

The door opened behind him, and James stepped in, his usual smile replaced with quiet confusion.

“Take Michael home.”