Jisung didn’t sleep that night.
He lay wide awake, tangled in a sheet that wasn’t his, in a bed that didn’t belong to him, with skin still stained by someone else's touch.
Hyunjin was next to him - bare-chested, beautiful, and breathing softly. The kind of beauty that could ruin a person without even trying. And right now, Jisung felt ruined.
He stared at the ceiling, heart pounding like it was trying to outrun what he’d just done.
He wished he could say it was meaningless.
He wished he could pretend it was an accident.
He wished he hadn’t kissed Hyunjin back.
But he had.
And the worst part? He didn’t stop it.
---
It started with a fight.
Not with Hyunjin - with Minho.
The man who had held Jisung together during his worst nights.
The man who never judged his panic attacks, who would sit in silence beside him until the world calmed down.
The man who loved Jisung with a quiet, unwavering patience - the kind Jisung didn’t know how to deserve.
They’d fought over something small. A missed call. A careless word. Something stupid. But the argument had spiraled into silence. And Jisung - tired, angry, and full of self-pity - turned to the one person who always knew how to distract him from his pain Hyunjin.
He didn’t go to Hyunjin expecting anything to happen.
But then drinks were poured.
Laughs were exchanged.
Old feelings resurfaced - ones Jisung thought he’d buried long ago.
And in the haze of frustration and warmth, he leaned in.
And Hyunjin didn’t stop him.
---
Now, hours later, he sat on the edge of the bed, fingers curled tightly into his own palms, his throat burning with guilt. He stared down at the floor like it might offer him forgiveness.
But all he could hear was Minho’s voice from earlier that week
"if something's wrong, just come to me. Don’t run from me, jisung"
But that’s exactly what he did.
He ran.
And now, he had nowhere left to run from himself.
Jisung dressed in silence, pulled on his hoodie with trembling hands, and left Hyunjin’s apartment without saying a word.
---
Minho lived just a few train stops away.
The walk to his door felt longer than it ever had.
Jisung’s legs were heavy, but not as heavy as the guilt crushing his chest.
The city was quiet. The streets empty. But his head was full of noise - Minho’s laugh, his voice, the memory of his lips, the warmth of his arms.
The moment he reached Minho’s apartment, he almost turned around.
Almost.
But he knocked.
Once. Twice. His heart thudding louder than both.
The door opened after a few seconds.
Minho stood there in sweatpants and an oversized hoodie, his dark hair slightly messy from where he’d been running his fingers through it. His eyes were red. Tired.
He didn’t speak right away. Just looked at Jisung.
And Jisung looked back - unable to breathe.
“Hi,” Jisung whispered. His voice sounded like someone else’s.
Minho didn’t say anything. He just stepped aside, letting him in.
The apartment was dark except for the kitchen light. The familiar scent hit Jisung instantly - Minho’s cologne, his books, the faint lingering scent of cinnamon and coffee. It felt like home.
And Jisung had just set fire to it.
Minho stood near the kitchen counter, arms folded over his chest. His silence wasn’t cold. It was quiet. Resigned.
Jisung felt tears well up before he could stop them.
“I… I need to tell you something.”
“I know,” Minho said.
Jisung blinked. “What?”
Minho’s eyes flicked toward him. “You were with Hyunjin.”
The breath left Jisung’s lungs.
“I saw it on your face the second I opened the door,” Minho said, voice low. “You looked at me like someone who already lost something.”
“I didn’t mean for it to happen-” Jisung began, voice breaking.
“But it did.” Minho’s voice cracked too. “And you let it.”
“I was angry. We fought. I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t go there to-”
“But you did it,” Minho said softly, not looking at him now. “That’s all that matters.”
Silence filled the room like water rising in a sinking ship.
Minho finally turned toward him, eyes glistening with unshed tears.
“I asked you once,” he said, “if you loved me, would it be a promise you’d keep?”
“I do love you,” Jisung whispered, broken. “I love you more than anyone-”
“Then why did you hurt me like this?”
The pain in Minho’s voice was worse than any yelling could have been. It was quiet devastation. Not the kind that explodes. The kind that lingers, eats away.
Jisung stepped forward. “I don’t have an excuse. I don’t. I just- I didn’t know how to handle how much I needed you. How scared I was of losing you. And somehow, I still ruined everything.”
Minho looked up at him. His lips trembled, then steadied.
“Do you still want me to stay?”
A beat passed.
Then Minho answered, so quietly Jisung almost missed it
“No.”
Jisung froze.
“I can’t do this, Ji,” Minho said, stepping back. “I would’ve forgiven you a thousand times if you were honest. But now I’ll always wonder if there’s someone else waiting for you when things get hard again.”
Jisung felt like his knees might give out.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, tears falling freely now.
“I know,” Minho said, voice hoarse. “I know you are. That’s what makes it worse.”
Jisung stood there - in the home they once built together - and realized something soul-crushing
You can love someone and still betray them.
You can mean your promises and still break them.
You can be sorry and still lose them.
Minho didn’t ask him to leave.
He didn’t raise his voice.
He just turned around and disappeared into the bedroom, closing the door gently behind him.
Jisung stood there for a long, long time.
And then, quietly, he let himself out.
