“He was always cold,” Ji Ho finally said. “But never cruel. Never fake. Even as a kid, he’d sit through every family dinner like it was a war meeting. Never cried. Never lied. But when I broke my arm trying to ride down the staircase in a box, he was the one who stayed with me in the hospital. Sat there all night, just… watching.”
Haneul didn’t speak.
“Don’t tell him I said that,” Ji Ho muttered, looking away. “But yeah. You’re the type he’d fall for. A walking migraine with too many feelings”
A pause, and then “He’s always been waiting for someone impossible. I think it’s you.”
There was a beat of silence.
Then Ji Ho said, “I have regrets.”
“About what?”
“Letting you in.”
“You didn’t let me. I let myself in.”
“…Fair.”
??????
At some point, Ji Ho got a call. Walked into the other room. Left Haneul on the couch with an open window and the smell of early spring curling in.
When he came back, Haneul was curled up under a throw blanket, face half-buried in the stupid expensive pillow, braid flopped over his shoulder, mouth open slightly.
Breathing like peace wasn’t something earned—it was something stolen.
Ji Ho stood there. Watching.
Then called Jaewan.
“Hey,” he said. “I think your fox broke into my place and claimed it.”
“Is he bleeding?”
“No.”
“Is he naked?”
“No.”
“Then let him sleep. He only curls up like that when he’s starting to trust the world again.”
Ji Ho looked again. Watched as Haneul’s fingers clutched the edge of the pillow like it was a promise.
“Fuck,” Ji Ho muttered.
And left the window open.
??????
The call came at 3:14 a.m.
Seungho was awake. Had been since 2:40. The quiet in the penthouse was too sterile to sleep in.
He didn’t look at the screen when the phone buzzed.
He knew.
