Seojun held Yeonjun's arms carefully, trying to be gentle and not make him uncomfortable.

"I'm going to lift you now. Don't be afraid," he said quietly.

He stood up slowly with Yeonjun on his back and walked out of the bathroom. Each step was careful.

In the bedroom, he laid him down on the bed like he was handling something already broken.

"I need to go. I wanna leave here…" Yeonjun's voice shook. It was barely louder than a whisper. He knew he couldn't even stand, but staying in that room felt worse.

"I want to get out of here…" he whispered again.

Then his breath hitched, and the sobs came.

He curled up, his hands gripping the bedsheets like he was holding on to anything that wasn't this moment.

Seojun knelt next to the bed and kept his eyes on Yeonjun's face.

"It's three in the morning and you don't seem okay," he said quietly. "Please... just lie here and rest. I promise I'll take you anywhere you want tomorrow. I mean it."

He stayed where he was and spoke without looking at him. He felt like he might die of embarrassment, but he couldn't leave Yeonjun alone like this. And Seojun knew better than to reach for him without permission.

In a low voice, over and over, he whispered, "I'm sorry. Just calm down. I don't want anything else. Please… I'm so sorry, I'm drunk and I wasn't…"

Yeonjun looked like he was sinking into the bed. His body had stopped shaking, but only because it had no strength left. His eyes barely opened. His lips moved, weak and slow.

"This… This shouldn't be happening. Not again…"

By the end, his voice was barely audible.

"Fucking panic attack…"

And his eyes closed.

—

Seojun picked up his phone. His hands were still unsteady. He typed panic attack symptoms into the search bar and waited for the screen to load. His fingers hovered above the glass, slightly trembling, as he read through the list.

Shortness of breath, trembling, derealization, fainting, heart palpitations…

He stopped reading. The screen dimmed, and for a moment, his own reflection stared back at him from the dark glass. His face looked strange. His eyes were too wide, his mouth slightly open, like he didn't know who he was looking at.

What have I done? How could I do this to him? Why…

His eyes drifted toward the bed.

Yeonjun was still lying under the blanket. Even in sleep, he looked too fragile to touch. His hands were curled into small fists. His lips were pale and slightly parted, as if he had fallen asleep mid-sentence.

He looked like someone who had fallen from too high and hadn't stopped falling yet.

Seojun stood up and crossed the room once before walking over to the kitchen area. He filled a glass with cold water and brought it back with quiet steps. He set it on the nightstand, close enough for Yeonjun to reach.

Yeonjun didn't move.

Seojun crouched beside the bed again. He watched the slow rise and fall of Yeonjun's chest. Even in sleep, his brows were drawn in, like something inside him was still holding on. Like he couldn't get out of wherever he was.

"I'm so sorry, Yeonjun…" he whispered.

And he truly was. He had done something he had never done before, and he already knew the price would be heavy. Even then, he understood there was no way to make it right.

He sat down with his back against the side of the bed. After a while, his head leaned slightly to the side, and Seojun fell asleep too.

—

The room was getting brighter.

Yeonjun opened his eyes slowly. His body still ached, and his mind felt cloudy. For a moment, he didn't know where he was.

Then parts of the night before came back to him. They didn't make sense. They felt rough and hard to remember. He'd drunk too much.

He turned his head a little. The clock behind the nightstand showed 07:09 a.m.

He looked under the blanket. He was wearing nothing but his underwear.

Slowly, he sat up. His muscles were stiff, like they hadn't rested at all. When he turned his head a bit more, he saw Seojun lying on the rug next to the bed.

The image hit him all at once. Seojun leaning in close, his mouth moving toward him. His stomach lurched. Then everything from the night before slid into place, from how it started to how it ended, including the parts in between. How he'd felt relaxed, how he'd felt good, and how it had crossed a line he never saw coming.

Seojun's hands were pressed together. Even in sleep, his face looked tight, like he was still asking for forgiveness in a dream.

Yeonjun slipped out from under the blanket without a sound. He didn't look at Seojun. His eyes moved around the room, unsure where his clothes had ended up.

He opened the small cabinet and grabbed the first pair of ripped jeans he saw. Then he pulled out a black long-sleeved shirt and slipped it over his head.

He looked around again, still trying to find his phone. He was about to check behind the chair when Seojun began to move.

"Yeonjun?"

Without turning his head, Yeonjun asked, "Where's my phone?" His voice came out cold and hard.

Seojun sat up right away. "It's on the kitchen table," he said quickly, getting to his feet. He brought it over in a few seconds. Yeonjun took the phone without looking at him. His eyes stayed on the floor.

"Give me my clothes. I need to go..." His voice broke a little, but the anger in it was clear.

Seojun looked up. "I washed them last night, but I forgot to start the drying cycle. They're still wet in the machine. I'm sorry. I'll bring them to school."

Yeonjun turned away and walked out. He went down the stairs fast. His legs were shaky, but he didn't slow down.

He had been drunk the night before and couldn't remember where the front door was. He turned left to open the nearest one.

He was angry. He wanted to get out fast, but he didn't even know which way to go. And the last thing he wanted was to ask Seojun for help.

Just as he reached for the door, Seojun stepped behind him and placed a hand on the handle.

"Yeonjun," he said quietly.

Without turning around, Yeonjun replied, "Don't talk to me."

"I'm so, so sorry," Seojun said, his voice shaking. "I didn't mean to put you in a position like that. I just... for a moment, I wasn't myself."

Yeonjun cut him off.

"If you think I'm going to tell someone what happened just to expose you, don't worry. I have no interest in embarrassing myself."

Seojun stammered. "No... that's not what I meant. Yeonjun, I'm not exactly someone who hides being gay. I just don't shout it out loud. Whether you tell anyone or not... that's up to you. And if anyone should be humiliated, it's me. I'm the one who acted like an animal. You didn't do anything wrong."

His voice was low and full of shame.

Yeonjun still didn't turn around.

"Let go of the fucking door. I want to leave."

"I'm so, so sorry. Please forgive me…"

"Are you out of your mind? You assaulted me and you want to be forgiven? Fuck! I told you not to talk to me!" Yeonjun shouted. "I just wanna open the fucking door and get out of here right now!

Seojun pulled his hand back. Tears were already in his eyes.

Yeonjun opened the door. He had expected an empty hallway or maybe another room. But he had run straight into something he hadn't been prepared for.

Standing right in front of him was the famous painter, Shin Mi-yeon.