The phone call vibrated on the table. It was Minho.

— Aziel, enough of locking yourself up at home with your family. Come to our usual cafe, let's sit for an hour and talk. I have so much news to tell from the restaurant, you will go crazy, — Minho's lively voice was heard.

​Aziel followed with his gaze his father, who was praying in the living room, and his mother, who was busy in the kitchen. He needed this escape.

— Okay, Minho, I am coming.

​Aziel dressed cautiously, trying not to catch anyone's eye. He looked at his face in the mirror; the eyelids swollen from tears had calmed down a bit, but a coldness had descended into his gaze.

— Mom, I am going out. I am going to meet Minho, I won't be too late, — he called out toward the direction of the kitchen.

​Fatima came out, wiping her hands with her apron. She looked at her son for a long time, as if trying to read his thoughts.

— Go, ya habibi. But remember your father's words: we are guests here, and you are our honor. Don't let that city consume you.

​The cafe was full of people, but Minho, as always, had chosen the farthest and quietest corner. As soon as he saw Aziel, he raised his hand and smiled widely.

​Aziel approached and sat opposite him.

— I hadn't seen you for a long time, — Minho said, looking attentively at his face, — you have lost weight.

— I am just tired, — he replied, raising his shoulders lightly.

​He was not looking into Minho's eyes. Inside his head, Sojin's words were spinning.

"Minho is my old friend. I know everything about you."

That sentence was still burning him from the inside. What "everything"? What had Minho said?

​— You are very silent today, — Minho said.

Aziel smiled lightly.

— Simply tired.

​Minho did not reply immediately. His gaze was attentive, as if trying to read what Aziel was not saying.

— I saw your video, — he said finally. — Were you talking about him?

Aziel's breath caught for a moment. He nodded.

— Yes.

​Minho waited, as if he wanted him to continue. But Aziel stayed silent. He did not dare. Every word that he could say seemed dangerous. It seemed like it could reach Sojin's ears again. He no longer knew what was solely his and what was already someone else's.

​— Are you guys not talking anymore? — Minho asked softly.

Aziel thought for a moment what to reply. The truth, or a safe option?

— Not so much, — he said finally.

A half-truth.

​Minho nodded lightly.

— Does it hurt?

Aziel looked at the window. Outside, people were walking, laughing, living their lives.

— Yes, — he whispered.

​Minho's hand moved on the table, as if he wanted to come closer, but it stopped halfway.

— You know, — he said, — when you told me for the first time that you had fallen in love with a boy... you were afraid.

— And you? — Aziel suddenly asked, trying to sound calm and change the topic, — do you still communicate... with your old friends?

​Minho was a bit surprised.

— With some, yes, — he replied. — Why are you asking?

— Just because, — Aziel said quickly. — It was interesting.

He did not dare to say the name. Did not dare to say: Sojin.

​A moment of silence reigned.

— Are you hiding something from me?

Aziel's heart accelerated.

— No.

But that "no" was weak; even he himself did not believe it. He simply took his coffee and took a sip.

— Okay, you can say nothing. When you are ready, you will say it.

​Those words should have calmed him. But inside Aziel, it was the opposite. He no longer knew whom he could trust. He was looking at Minho—the person who had been the first to accept him. And for the first time, under that acceptance, he felt uncertainty. He didn't know how this meeting was going to end. And worst of all: he didn't know how much Minho actually knew.

​Aziel felt that the question accumulated inside was growing heavy. He tried to ignore it. He tried to talk about other things.

— How is it at the restaurant? — he asked.

— Same as usual, — Minho replied. — The same people, the same noise.

He paused for a moment, then added:

— They are asking about you.

— Really?

— Yes. You had your place there.

​Aziel nodded but said nothing. He felt that the question was approaching his lips, but he still did not dare to utter it. There was a struggle inside him. One part did not want to hear the answer. The other part could not live without knowing.

​He tried to sound indifferent.

— And... the other employees?

— Who? — Minho asked.

Aziel's throat went dry. One second. Two.

— Sojin, — he finally said.

​The name hung in the air between them. Minho's facial expression barely changed.

— He is working.

Aziel was not satisfied with that answer.

— How is he?

The question sounded more personal than it should have.

​Minho went silent for a moment, as if choosing the words.

— Tired, — he said finally.

Aziel's fingers tightened around the cup.

— Tired?

— Yes. Very.

​Minho leaned back on his chair.

— Lately, he barely speaks. He comes to work, does his job, and leaves. Sometimes it seems like he hasn't slept at all.

Aziel's heart grew heavy.

— And... — Minho hesitated a little, — he often has new wounds.

— Wounds?

— Yes. On his hands, sometimes on his face. Small, but new. As if every day he gets into fights somewhere.

​Aziel did not realize how his hand squeezed the cup stronger. Inside his mind, images immediately arose. Sojin's hands. His skin.

— But, — Minho continued, — a few days ago he asked about you.

Aziel's eyes rose involuntarily.

— About me?

— Yes.

His heart began to beat fast.

— What... what did he say?

​Minho smiled lightly, as if remembering that moment.

— He asked how you are. Whether your family is still here.

Aziel was listening silently.

— I said yes. That they had come. That you were with them.

He laughed a little.

— And I told how I got acquainted with them. Your father... is an interesting man.

​Aziel's breath was caught in his throat.

— I told how he reacted when he found out that I prefer boys, — Minho continued, lightly, without heaviness. — He was very confused, but he was trying to remain polite.

He smiled from that memory.

— That was... an interesting moment.

​Aziel was silent. He was listening carefully to every single word; there was no mockery, no betrayal. Simply a story, simply a fact, nothing that would offend him, nothing that would reveal his secrets.

And at that moment, a part of the tension accumulated inside Aziel's chest finally relaxed. He had not gossiped. Minho had not taken his trust and passed it to someone else.

​Aziel took a slow breath.

— I understand, — he said quietly.

Minho looked at him more attentively.

— Why are you asking about him?

Aziel was not ready to answer; he quickly looked at the window.

— Simply... it's been a long time since I saw him, — he said. — There is no special reason.

— I understand.

​They finished their coffee without rushing. Time was passing slowly.

They stood up together. For a few seconds, they stood near the door of the cafe.

— I'm glad you came, — Minho said.

— Me too, — Aziel replied sincerely.

And that was the truth.

**

Minho remained standing in front of the cafe until Aziel's departing figure completely vanished into the flow of people. He took a slow breath and turned in the opposite direction.

​The night air was cold but pleasant. The city was living its usual life—neon lights, the constant movement of cars, voices heard from afar. He began to walk without rushing; his thoughts were still back at the cafe—Aziel's voice, his eyes, his cautiousness. That was what worried him the most. Aziel had always been open with him. Scared at first, yes, and insecure too, but once he had trusted, he had trusted completely. Today, he did not. Today, he was choosing his words, hiding things, not looking directly into his eyes. Minho remembered his vlog.

"Yesterday, a part of me died."

That sentence was what had forced him to call Aziel. But when he saw him with that empty gaze, that silent pain, he understood that he had no right to break his last defense. Some questions must wait; some truths must too.

​Lost in his thoughts, he reached his building, which was located in the illuminated section of Gangnam-daero street. The building was tall, with a glass facade that reflected the lights of the city. The elevator brought him upstairs almost noiselessly.

​When he opened the door to the apartment, silence greeted him inside. The apartment was large and stylish—an open space with light colors. Large floor-to-ceiling windows opened a view toward Seoul at night. From that height, the city seemed like another world. Minho took off his coat, hung it near the entrance, and walked slowly toward the kitchen. With automatic movements, he prepared tea. The gentle sound of the boiling water filled the silence.

​He took the cup, went to the living room, and sat on the sofa. He held the warm cup inside his palms, feeling how the warmth was slowly spreading through his fingers. For a few seconds, he was simply looking out the window. Then, he took the papers placed on the table—the lyrics to a new song—and began to read slowly, each word separately, feeling each line.

— "The remnants of love live in silence..." — he whispered.

​He repeated the line, again and again, trying not only to remember but to understand. But today, the words seemed strangely heavy. His thoughts returned to Aziel again. His question: "How is Sojin?" That question was not accidental. Minho had felt it, but he had not asked for more. If Aziel wanted to, he himself would say it.

​The door of the house opened, and Dohyun entered.

​Dohyun has expressive, decisive, and Asian-type facial features. The oval of his face is elongated and distinct, with a firm jaw and sharp cheekbones. His skin is of a light tone. His eyes are narrow, almond-shaped, and piercing. The color of his eyes is a dark purple, a color that sharply contrasts with his white hair. His hair is cut very short, almost shaved. The greater part of the boy's body—including his neck, chest, abdomen, arms (along their entire length), and back—is completely covered with dense, dark, and complex tattoos. The tattoos cover almost all the exposed skin, creating a unified, monumental image that merges with his body.