The door to the bar shut behind him, and this time Felix felt it. It echoed. Not loud, just enough to settle heavy in his chest, like something final snapping into place. He stood there for a second on the sidewalk, hand still hovering near the handle, like he might go back. He didn’t.

He couldn’t. So he walked. No direction, no real awareness of where his feet were taking him; just forward. The night air was cool, brushing against his skin, but it didn’t ground him. Nothing did. The city blurred at the edges, lights too bright, sounds too distant, like he was moving through something thick and unreal. It wasn’t until he reached the end of the block that his breathing started to break.

Not steady anymore. Not controlled.

Sharp. Uneven.

Felix dragged a hand through his hair, his fingers catching slightly like he didn’t have the coordination to do something that simple. “It’s fine,” he muttered under his breath, the words automatic, hollow. “It’s… it’s better this way.”

Because it was. It had to be.

He turned a corner without thinking, shoes scuffing against the pavement, the sound too loud in the quiet. Every step felt wrong; too heavy, too slow, like his body didn’t know how to exist without something it had just lost.

Hyunjin’s voice kept replaying.

The confusion.
The way it softened, trying to understand.
The way it broke.

Felix’s chest tightened so suddenly he had to stop. He braced a hand against the nearest wall, head dropping forward as his breath stuttered. “Don’t,” he whispered to himself, like he could shut it off. Like he could stop remembering the exact look on Hyunjin’s face when everything shifted.

But he couldn’t. Because he’d done that. He’d put that look there. A shaky breath left him, almost a laugh but not quite. “You had to,” he said, quieter now. “You had to.” His dad wouldn’t find out now.

That thought slipped in like something fragile; careful, cautious, and for a moment, Felix clung to it. No suspicion. No questions. No reason to dig into his life, to notice Hyunjin, to…

To hurt him.

Felix squeezed his eyes shut, jaw tightening.

“I couldn’t let that happen.”

The words came out rough, like they scraped on the way up.

And that was the truth, wasn’t it?

It didn’t matter how much it hurt him.

Hyunjin was safe now.

No risk. No danger. No chance of getting dragged into something ugly and violent and irreversible.

It wasn’t until he felt the cold, harsh feel of the wall that it hit him fully.

Not the decision; he’d made that choice the moment fear sank its claws into his chest.

Not the reasoning; he knew exactly why he did it.

But the absence.

Hyunjin’s laugh. Hyunjin’s voice. The way he would lean across the bar like the space between them was something meant to be closed.

Gone.

Felix let out a sharp, broken sound, something between a laugh and a sob, and pressed the heel of his hand into his eye.

“It’s fine,” he repeated, even though his voice shook. “It’s… it’s better this way.”

Because it was.

It had to be.

Felix pushed himself off the wall and kept walking. Every step just made it clearer. Hyunjin wasn’t there anymore. Wouldn’t be there.

And Felix had chosen that.

By the time he finally recognized his street, his legs ached, but he barely felt it. The only thing that registered was the quiet; the kind that settled deep and stayed, thick with everything he didn’t say, everything he forced himself not to turn back for.

He slowed as he reached his door.

For a second, his hand hovered over the knob again, just like it had at the bar. Like if he opened it, something might be waiting on the other side to undo everything. It wasn’t. Felix knew that. Still, his chest tightened as he finally pushed it open and stepped inside.

Because this time, there was no almost. No maybe. Just the reality of what he’d done settling in fully; Hyunjin was safe. And Felix had never felt more broken.

His dad wouldn’t find out now. There’d be no reason to look, no reason to question, no reason to hurt anyone. The thought should’ve brought comfort, and part of it did. A small, fragile piece of him unclenched, like a fist loosening just enough to breathe. The relief was there; he could feel it, faint and flickering, like a dying light. But it didn’t reach far enough. It didn’t touch the hollow spreading through his chest, didn’t fill the space where something warm and steady had been just hours ago.

Hyunjin was safe.

That’s what mattered.

That’s what this was for.

So why did it feel like he’d just signed something away?

He could still see Hyunjin’s face.

The confusion first. Then the hurt.

God, the hurt.

Felix squeezed his eyes shut, but it didn’t help. It only made it clearer; the way Hyunjin’s expression shifted, the way his voice softened like he was trying to understand, trying to fix something that Felix had already decided to break.

“I didn’t even…” Felix swallowed hard, his throat tight. “I didn’t give you a chance.”

Because if he had, he wouldn’t have been able to leave.

That was the truth of it.

If Hyunjin had reached for him, really reached, Felix would’ve folded. He would’ve stayed. He would’ve risked everything, and that was exactly what he couldn’t allow.

Not when he knew what his father was capable of.

Not when he could already imagine it; hands grabbing violently, voices raised, the kind of violence that didn’t stop once it started. Not just him. Hyunjin too. Especially Hyunjin.

Felix’s breath hitched.

“I couldn’t let that happen,” he said, softer now, like he was confessing it to the empty car. “I couldn’t let him touch you.”

The words cracked something open.

Because protecting him meant losing him.

And suddenly the relief felt small, so small compared to the ache spreading through his chest, heavy and relentless. It settled deep in his bones, a kind of exhaustion that sleep would never fix.

Inside, the house felt too quiet.

Too empty.

He collapsed on his couch and stared at the ceiling, hoping and praying to anything that would listen that it would give him answers or comfort.

Instead, all he got was Hyunjin.

Everywhere.

In the way silence now felt wrong.
In the way his chest ached like something vital had been ripped out and left behind.
In the way his hands still felt like they were meant to reach for someone who wasn’t there anymore.

Felix slid down to the floor before he even realized his legs had given out.

For a long time, he just sat there.

Breathing.

Or trying to.

“I did the right thing,” he murmured, over and over, like if he said it enough times it might start to feel true.

And maybe it was.

Maybe protecting Hyunjin was worth this.

Worth the emptiness.
Worth the silence.
Worth the way his heart felt like it was breaking a second time now that he was alone.

But knowing that didn’t make it hurt any less.

If anything, it made it worse.

Because this wasn’t something he could fix.

He couldn’t go back.
Couldn’t explain.
Couldn’t reach out without risking everything all over again.

So all he could do was sit there in the quiet, holding onto the one fragile comfort he had left; 

Hyunjin was safe.

Even if Felix wasn’t.

Even if he never would be again.