"Wait." Jae-won-hyung held up a hand, stopping him. His expression was unreadable, but I could see the gearsturning behind his eyes. "What else did she say? You were gone for hours, Tae-min. That's more than a few minutes of conversation."
I felt heat creep up my neck. "We... talked for a while. In the convenience store. She asked me to tell her something real about myself, something that wasn't the idol version." I swallowed, remembering the vulnerability of admitting how much I hated being treated like the baby. "So I did. And she listened. Really listened."
"Something real like what?" Hwan-hyung asked, curiosity bleeding through the worry in his voice.
"I told her I hate being the youngest," I admitted, and watched understanding flicker across Min-jun-hyung's face. "That everyone treats me like I'm fragile, like I can't handle hard things. She... she understood. She said she could relate."
"And then?" Jae-won-hyung pressed.
"Then she collapsed." The memory made something twist in my chest — the way her legs had buckled, the way she'd caught herself on her hands, the way she'd looked up at me with tears gathering in her eyes. "She couldn't stand anymore. I asked to help her up, and she..." My voice cracked slightly. "She let me. She let me touch her, just to help her stand. And then she let me walk her home."
Hwan-hyung made a sound that was half laugh, half sob. "She let you walk her home?"
"She was too weak to argue," I said honestly. "But she also... I don't think she wanted to argue. She was tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of running." I met Jae-won-hyung's eyes. "She's not running anymore, hyung. She's just scared. She needs time to figure out how to stop being scared." The room was quiet for a long moment, all of us processing.
Then Hwan-hyung spoke, his voice smaller than I'd ever heard it. "Did she... did she say anything about me?" I'd beenwaiting for this question. Had been dreading and anticipating it in equal measure.
"She apologized," I said softly, watching hope and pain war across his features. "She asked me to tell you she was sorry for running. She said she knows it hurt you."
Hwan-hyung's face crumpled. He didn't cry — not quite — but his whole body seemed to fold in on itself, his shoulders hunching forward and his head dropping into his hands. Jin-ho-hyung was beside him in an instant, one hand on his back, a steady presence as Hwan-hyung processed years of sunshine mask cracking under the weight of being seen, being acknowledged, being apologized to by the omega who'd run from him twice.
"She said that?" Hwan-hyung's voice was muffled by his hands. "She actually said she was sorry?"
"She meant it," I confirmed. "You should have seen her face when she said it, hyung. She felt bad. Really bad. She didn't want to hurt you — she was just scared."
"I know." Hwan-hyung lifted his head, his eyes red-rimmed but dry, his jaw set with determination. "I know she was scared. I just... I didn't know if she cared. If hurting us even registered when she was running."
"It registered," I said firmly. "She's been thinking about all of us. She knows Hwan-hyung is the bright one, even though there's more beneath the sunshine. She knows Jin-ho-hyung is quiet and thoughtful. She knows I'm the maknae." I paused, glancing at Jae-won-hyung and Min-jun-hyung. "She said she's watched our performances. Read our interviews. She's been paying attention even while she was running."
"She has?" Min-jun-hyung's voice was soft with wonder.
"She wants to know who we really are," I repeated, because it felt important, because it was the thing that had cracked her walls more than anything else I'd said. "Not the idol version. Thereal us. That's why I suggested letters. So we can tell her things we wouldn't tell interviews. Things that are actually true."
Jae-won-hyung was quiet for a long moment, his expression thoughtful. Then he nodded slowly, some of the tension bleeding out of his shoulders.
"Okay," he said, his voice carrying the weight of a decision made. "We honor her request. Letters. Food. No pressure. No showing up at her door uninvited." He shot me a look that was equal parts stern and relieved. "Though apparently convenience stores are fair game now."
"I didn't plan it," I protested, but I couldn't help the small smile that tugged at my lips. "I was just buying ramyeon."
"Sure you were." But there was no heat in Jae-won-hyung's voice, and when he reached out to ruffle my hair — a gesture I usually hated — I found I didn't mind so much this time.
"I'll start cooking," Min-jun-hyung announced, already heading back to the kitchen with renewed purpose. "Something nourishing but not too heavy. Soup, maybe. And some side dishes she can eat cold if she's not up to reheating things. I'll portion it out so she doesn't have to worry about cooking for days?—"
"Don't overwhelm her," Jae-won-hyung cautioned, but there was a softness in his voice that undercut the warning. "Start small. One meal. See if she accepts it before you fill her entire refrigerator."
Min-jun-hyung waved a dismissive hand over his shoulder. "She hasn't been eating properly. You heard Tae-min. She needs nutrients, calories, proper food to fight the soul sickness. I'm not going to let our omega starve just because we're trying to give her space."
Our omega. The words sent a thrill down my spine, the crimson bond pulsing in response.
"Letters tonight," Jae-won-hyung decided, looking at each of us in turn. "Everyone writes something. Something real, like she asked. Something she wouldn't learn from interviews." His gaze lingered on me. "Tae-min showed her it was possible. Now we follow through."
"What do I even say?" Hwan-hyung asked, running a hand through his hair. The vulnerability in his voice made something ache in my chest. "How do I put everything I'm feeling into a letter?"
"Start small," Jin-ho-hyung suggested quietly. "You don't have to explain everything. Just... tell her something true. Something that matters to you. She's not expecting perfection."
"She's expecting us," I added. "The real us. Flaws and all."
Hwan-hyung nodded slowly, some of the panic in his expression easing. "Okay. Okay, I can do that. Something true. Something real." He looked at me. "Thank you, Tae-min-ah. For not messing this up. For listening to her."
