“Corporate silence is a warning. Not a gift.”
Another nod. A flicker in Seungho’s jaw. “I’m aware.”
??????
Sunday.
Haneul had said he was “meeting a friend.”
That was all.
By noon, a text came in from one of Seungho’s executive aides. Short. Dry.
“Saw your brother with your Sky friend at the Han River. Looked friendly.”
Seungho stared at the message longer than he should have and didn’t reply.
But later that night, when Haneul strolled in with sand still between his toes and the smell of street coffee on his shirt, he paused in the doorway.
“Why are you staring like I kicked your dog?”
Seungho looked at him from the armchair.
“Did he touch you?”
Haneul blinked.
Then barked a laugh and flipped onto the couch. “Why, you jealous?”
Seungho didn’t answer.
Just stood. Walked into his office.
And shut the door.
Hours passed.
The apartment felt stretched thin. Like it was holding its breath around them.
Haneul paced once. Then stopped. Then threw himself onto the kitchen stool and glared at the vitro like it had offended him.
Hedidn’t know what pissed him off more: the question. Or the silence that followed.
Or how much he’d liked being at the Han River, letting Ji-Ho talk his ears off about his brother’s grumpy ass and how “he’s been a cryptid since birth but he actually eats better now that you’re around.”
Or maybe how much he had hated how Seungho’s eyes didn’t soften. Not even a little. Not even when Haneul laughed.
It wasn’t flirting. Not really. Haneul didn’t know how to flirt. He just radiated—honest and unfiltered, painfully bad at social nuance. Loyal to the bone.
He wasn’t aiming his charm. It just… happened. Ji-Ho enjoyed the sparkle, sure. But Haneul wasn’t trying to dazzle anyone. He’d already set his heart down—without realizing it. And in Haneul’s world, once you did that, it was forever.
This wasn’t betrayal. This was silence colliding with a boy who never learned to dim.
He stayed awake past 2 a.m., sketchbook open, not drawing.
And Seungho never left the office.
??????
