Seo-eul was left speechless again at the razor-sharp answer and let out a hollow breath. Setting aside how ridiculous it was, he couldn’t help wondering when that habit of saying things that made people misunderstand would ever be fixed. The memory of Sa-heon uploading a photo of him asleep on Onstar while joking about “some kind of edit” flashed through his mind. He’d thought they knew each other well, but sometimes, really…Feeling his energy drain out, Seo-eul leaned his cheek against the steering wheel and muttered,“No, you idiot. What are you even going to do after getting people to recognize that…”“……”“What merit do you even get out of people knowing we’re close? It’s not like you’re some rookie without connections. You’ve built a decent career—what’s the problem?”It wasn’t like a few years ago, back when Sa-heon had just started modeling for magazines. He was now successful enough to be the ambassador of a major brand. Showing off his connection to Seo-eul wouldn’t gain him much more than a bit of gossip. When Seo-eul pointed that out, those lips that had answered so easily just moments before pressed tightly shut. That carefully defined face, as though drawn with a dark, precise pencil, flickered faintly with hurt.“Because I get anxious.”There were too many things tangled in the tone of that simple, dropped line.Seo-eul wanted to ask what he was anxious about—but he already knew. And so did Sa-heon.“You’re trying to distance yourself from me.”“……”“What’s the problem? The way you act like you’re about to disappear at any moment—that’s the problem. That’s why I hate it when people say we’re nothing, that we’re not close. I fucking hate it.”It makes it sound like I made it all up.When he added that, his expression had softened again. If it were a silent scene in a wordless play, it would simply seem wistful, like a portrait touched by melancholy. But in truth, it was the confession of someone fragile and exhausted—like graphite smudging black across paper the moment you try to rub it away.So he really was anxious, after all.Only then did Seo-eul recognize the strange, off feeling that had been scratching at the back of his neck since morning. He’d thought time had solved everything—but clearly, it hadn’t. That realization made him reach out instinctively. He grabbed Sa-heon’s hand resting loosely on his thigh, and the familiar heat immediately seeped into his palm.“It’s not like that, Heon.”“What, do you feel relieved now? So you want to just disappear?”“I said it’s not like that. Why would I…”“Then don’t make me feel anxious. Just stay with me.”His tone cracked at the end. Knowing exactly what that meant, Seo-eul tightened his grip on the hand he was holding. Reacting emotionally would only make things worse, so he slowly straightened up from the wheel. Those pitch-black eyes, absorbing every trace of light, stared back at him as if unwilling to let even a flicker escape.The intensity of that gaze made Seo-eul’s chest ache.It wasn’t because of his own gloom—it was because there was nothing joyful about any of this. He was staring at the consequence of something he himself had broken, and his throat tightened painfully.“I’m sorry. For making you feel that way.”Sa-heon’s reaction was certainly not something you’d expect between ordinary friends. Even so, Seo-eul took the time to shape his most gentle tone possible.This was just residue from an old illness. Once upon a time, Seo Sa-heon had suffered from a pathological separation anxiety disorder centered around Lee Seo-eul.No one knew exactly when it had begun, but it had once unraveled Sa-heon’s entire daily life. Their long period of cohabitation had started—and lasted—because of it. The problem wasn’t that Sa-heon refused to be apart from him; it was that even when they were together, he still couldn’t feel secure. Back then, he’d been like a believer struck with delusion, refusing to sleep, staying awake for nights on end out of fear.He’d undergone long-term psychological counseling, and eventually even medication.It had taken years, but his condition had slowly improved. He’d stopped taking medication, and he could now manage his own schedule alone.Thank god.For so long, Seo-eul had been choking on guilt, and only after seeing Sa-heon’s recovery did he finally feel like he could breathe. He’d even found himself praying, despite never having believed in anything. I’ll never let it happen again. He’d muttered promises he could never actually say aloud and lingered beside him for years.He’d only wanted to make sure Sa-heon was really all right.After that, he wanted to give him back everything he’d missed.He hated how many years had gone to waste. Even if it was late, he wanted to lead him back onto a normal path. It was selfish—he admitted that. A rotten form of guilt, yes. But this gradual drifting apart was the right thing to do. They’d held on to each other for too long, and it was time for both of them to live their own lives.At the same time, it was also time for Seo-eul to bury what little emotion he still had left.He hoped it would drown without leaving a trace. Every time his resolve weakened, he fought to hold it steady.“But Heon, we need to move forward now. You know just staying together without direction isn’t the answer. I’m fine now… and you’re fine too. We’ve proven that by staying together this long, haven’t we?”He shook the hand he was holding, almost habitually.Maybe it was a gesture seeking agreement, but Sa-heon’s tightly closed lips twisted faintly. Seo-eul, looking down, missed that change.“So let’s learn to be apart a little. We don’t have to live together. We can still meet often, eat out, go places. It won’t be that different. You know I don’t have any other friends but you…”“Lee Seo-eul. You’re not actually planning to listen to anything I say, are you?”“……”“You’ve already decided everything on your own and are just telling me.”“…Does it sound like that?”“Yeah. But I don’t want to fight. It’d just be my loss.”What loss? If they fought, the one who’d actually lose would obviously be Seo-eul. But he didn’t want to argue anymore, so he kept silent.After a pause, Sa-heon tilted his face slightly.His expression was harder to read than usual.“All right. Let’s just go home for now.”“Heon.”“I’m not mad. If yelling fixed anything, I would’ve done it already. But I’m a bit irritated, so don’t put your seatbelt on.”He said it like it was the most natural thing in the world. Seo-eul wasn’t some helpless fool who couldn’t fasten a seatbelt, though he often fumbled with timing. He lifted his gaze cautiously, checking Sa-heon’s mood. He’d been ready for a fight, but the other man just sat there with arms crossed, calm. Maybe he really wasn’t angry. That small realization loosened the tension in Seo-eul’s shoulders.Whatever Sa-heon misunderstood from that, he spoke again firmly.“Even if you look at me like that, I’m not putting it on for you.”“……”If he didn’t hurry, he really would look like an idiot.“I can do it myself…” Seo-eul muttered under his breath and hurriedly clicked the buckle into place.They drove home in silence after that. Even though they were used to quiet, this time it weighed heavier, gnawing at the softer one of the two. When the light turned red, Seo-eul stopped at the line and hesitantly turned his head.When their eyes met, he murmured, barely moving his lips.“Hey.”“……”“I’m {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} sorry… for deciding alone.”He knew how long he’d agonized over saying just that. Sa-heon reached out, touched his gentle face, and squeezed both cheeks between his palms as an answer. Seo-eul blinked once, slow and startled, then smiled faintly, relieved. The way his eyes drooped slightly at the corners was almost cute.Nothing much happened after they got home.They had an early dinner and watched a newly released OTT movie with popcorn. When the credits rolled, they shared thoughts about the plot and acting—Seo-eul doing most of the talking, as usual. It was the one time of day when Sa-heon actually listened.By the time they cleared the table, it was close to eleven.It felt like the day had vanished without doing much, but it wasn’t unpleasant. Sometimes, this kind of day wasn’t bad.Yawning lightly from waking up early, Seo-eul showered and came out just as Sa-heon was toweling his wet hair and peering into the fridge.Seo-eul called to his back,“Good night, Heon.”“Yeah. You too.”Click.When the door closed and Seo-eul lay down on his bed, all the worries he’d been putting off came crashing down. He reviewed the day—mostly self-reproach. Am I being too cold? But if I don’t do this, we’ll just keep looping forever… He replayed Sa-heon’s words in his head until he drifted off.The next morning, something felt wrong.“…Why are you here again?”Again.Seo-eul’s sleep vanished the instant he opened his eyes and saw that all-too-familiar face right beside him.

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