When the door shut behind them, the atmosphere turned heavy, a stone pressing between Won’s ribs. He watched Rocky’s expression tighten—an unfamiliar look that flickered between anger and something else he couldn’t name.

 I’ve never seen Rocky look like that, 

Won thought, a tense awareness prickling across his skin.

“So?”

 Rocky’s question was a razor.

 “What is this supposed to be?”

Won swallowed. He didn’t want to dance around the truth any longer. 

“You already know,”

 he said.

Rocky took a step forward. His tone softened into a dangerous low. 

“Do I?”

Won squared his shoulders, the words finally releasing like a man stepping off a ledge.

 “I like him. More than that… I love him.” 

The confession left him raw and exposed; the sound of it reverberated against the glass and leather of the office furniture.

For a moment Rocky’s face didn’t change. Then his eyes narrowed; the sharpness was almost amused. He crossed his arms and circled Won slowly, predator-like, studying him.

 “Love?” 

He let the word hang in the air.

 “I thought you were just a playboy.”

Won felt the barb but refused to flinch. 

“Not when it comes to him.”

Rocky’s slow circle tightened the space between them. He leaned against the desk and watched Won as if testing the metal of a blade for temper.

 “You sure this isn’t one of your games?”

Won’s reply was steady. 

“I’m not playing this time.”

The smirk on Rocky’s face shifted into something else—an unreadable appraisal. He stepped closer, eyes sharp.

 “Tell me, Won… what makes you think you’re good enough for him?”

Won’s throat tightened. The question pulled up everything he feared: the nights he’d slept on cold floors, the crimes he’d committed to survive, the people he’d used like blankets. He had no pedigree of gentility, no guarantee of change.

 “I know I’m not. Not with my past… but I’m willing to give him everything I have left,”

 he said.

Rocky tilted his head, the movement thoughtful.

 “Everything? Including your freedom? Your pride?”

“If it’s for him, yes.” 

Won’s voice was almost a whisper, but there was iron beneath it.

For a breath, Rocky’s stance softened—just enough that Won caught a subtle shift. The man who’d demanded loyalty and owed nothing to anyone suddenly looked as if he were measuring the weight of a promise.

 “You think love is enough?”

 Rocky murmured.

 “Michael… he’s different. He’s innocent. He’s been sheltered. He’s had you for years. Do you think that’s love or dependence?”

The words landed like a thrown stone. Won felt them strike and shudder in his chest, but he met Rocky’s stare without lowering his eyes. 

“I won’t take advantage of him.”

Rocky’s face unreadable, he leaned forward almost conspiratorially and spoke softer than before. 

“Prove it.”

Won blinked, unprepared for the tenderness threaded through the demand. Rocky stepped back, the predator’s posture returning like a coat slung over his shoulder, and for the first time since the conversation started, he gave a small, faint smile—an expression more dangerous than any scowl.

“I’m not against it,”

 he said, voice low. Then, colder, harder:

 “But if you hurt him, you won’t have to worry about the police or your past catching up to you. I’ll make sure you disappear myself.”

The words were a threat and a promise braided together. Won’s heart hammered—not from fear, but from a strange and ugly relief. Rocky’s cruelty had a clear edge, but it also meant… protection. In his own brutal way, Rocky had staked a claim: hurt Michael, and face him.

Won swallowed the dry lump in his throat and nodded once. The agreement—the unspoken pact—hung between them. Outside the office, steps moved down the hall. Inside, Won understood that the future would be dangerous, fragile, and impossibly real. He closed his eyes and let Rocky’s words settle into him like a vow: someone was watching Michael, and someone else was finally willing to fight for him.

------

The hum of the car engine filled the silence, low and steady, but to Michael, it felt deafening. His fingers tightened around his phone until his knuckles turned white, the screen dimming against his palm. Every few seconds, he glanced at it—half expecting a text from Won, half terrified he’d actually get one.

Beside him, James drove with one hand on the wheel, his posture relaxed in contrast to Michael’s tense frame. He exhaled through his nose, breaking the thick silence.

“Relax,”

 he said casually, turning into the main road. 

“Rocky’s not going to kill him.”

Michael’s jaw tightened, his voice small but sharp. 

“You don’t know that.”

James chuckled under his breath, the corners of his mouth twitching up.

 “Trust me, kid. If Rocky wanted Won dead, he wouldn’t have sent me to drive you home. He’d have handled it himself.”

Michael shot him a wary look, not finding the joke funny. James glanced back at him briefly, then added with a smirk, 

“He’s just messing with him. Trying to see what he’s made of.”

Michael looked out the window. The city lights blurred against the glass, streaks of gold and white melting into the night. 

“What if…”

 He hesitated, his voice barely above a whisper.

 “What if Rocky tells him to stop seeing me?”

James hummed thoughtfully, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. 

“Then you’re just gonna let him decide for you?”

Michael frowned, his shoulders tensing. 

“It’s not like I have much of a choice.”

“Sure you do.” 

James’s tone softened, surprising him.

 “You think Rocky’s the kind of guy who cares about rules when it comes to feelings? If you and Won really have something, he’s not gonna stand in your way.”

Michael didn’t respond. He just sighed, the breath shaky, and rested his forehead against the cool glass of the window. The city passed by in flashes of neon and headlights, but his mind was far away—back in that office.

He could still see it so clearly: Won’s hand on his wrist, the way his eyes darkened before leaning in, the heat of that kiss—and then Rocky’s voice cutting through it like a blade.

Michael squeezed his eyes shut. 

“He’s gonna hate me for this,”

 he muttered.

James glanced at him again. 

“Won?”

Michael nodded weakly.

 “I didn’t even mean for it to happen. But now... Rocky probably thinks it’s my fault.”

James sighed, tapping his thumb against the steering wheel. 

“Listen, kid. Rocky’s protective, not cruel. He’s not mad at you—he’s making sure Won doesn’t screw this up.”

Michael lifted his gaze, uncertainty flickering in his eyes.

“Trust me,”

 James added, his voice firm.

 “If Won really means what he said, he’ll fight for you. Rocky just wants to see if he’s that kind of man.”

Michael fell silent again, the words echoing faintly in his head.

Outside, the lights blurred into streaks of color. The car turned another corner, the hum of the tires mixing with Michael’s quiet heartbeat.

He didn’t know what awaited them tomorrow—Rocky’s decision, Won’s reaction—but for the first time in a long while, he hoped.

Because no matter how uncertain things were… he wanted to believe Won wouldn’t back down.

------

Later at home

James’s voice broke the silence.

“Just stay here,” 

he said firmly, his eyes flicking toward Michael before he opened the door.

Michael frowned. 

“Are you going back?”

“Yeah…”

 James sighed, straightening his jacket.

 “I need to take care of the meeting that was supposed to be attended.”

Michael didn’t say anything more, only nodded and watched as James disappeared through the doorway. The silence that followed felt heavier than before.

---

An hour later, the quiet of the house was broken by the sound of keys pressing into the lock.

Michael jolted upright, his heart racing. The door creaked open, and Rocky stepped inside. The look on his face made Michael’s stomach twist.

“Michael,” 

Rocky said flatly.

 “We need to talk.”

The words alone were enough to drain the color from Michael’s face. He couldn’t even bring himself to look up at him. His throat felt dry.

“What’s the meaning of this?” 

Rocky asked, his tone calm—too calm. That quiet, controlled voice was worse than anger. It sent a chill down Michael’s spine.

“I’m sorry…” 

Michael whispered.

“‘You’re sorry’?” 

Rocky repeated, his eyes narrowing slightly. 

“Is that all you have to say?”

Silence filled the room, pressing down like a suffocating weight.

Then, with unnerving finality, Rocky said, 

“Break up.”

Michael’s head snapped up.

 “What…?”