Rin was still standing by the window when his phone buzzed again.
He didn't move at first. His fingers curled tighter around the curtain, knuckles pale. From behind him, the silence of his apartment stretched — no more words from Than, no more knocks, just the weight of the aftershock.
He finally turned and checked the screen.
Leo: "Back in the city. Tell me you're still alive, idiot. Dinner? I've missed yelling at you."
Rin let out a breathy laugh. It slipped out too fast, too raw, catching him off guard. He leaned against the wall, exhaling into the stillness. Leo. Of all times to show up again.
He hadn't seen him in months — not since before Jin's death, before things had unraveled. Leo had left for Paris on a photography grant, promising to be back in a couple of weeks. He stayed six months instead.
Rin never asked why. He couldn't afford to lose another person.
He texted back with shaking fingers. "Alive. Barely. Where?"
Leo chose a rooftop ramen bar that overlooked the city — still pretentious as ever. When Rin stepped out of the elevator and into the dim rooftop glow, he spotted Leo instantly. Same ridiculous hair, sharp grin, camera bag slung across his chest like a weapon.
Leo saw him and stood immediately. "Damn," he muttered, pulling Rin into a quick, tight hug. "You look like you've been through hell."
Rin let himself stay in that hug longer than he should've. "I have," he said honestly.
They sat. Leo ordered for both of them without asking, still pushy, still the same.
"You ghosted me," Rin said, watching the steam from the ramen.
Leo sipped his beer. "You ghosted me first."
"I had every reason."
Leo didn't push. Instead, he said, "I heard about Jin. I'm sorry I wasn't here. I wanted to come back, but I wasn't sure if I'd just… make things worse."
"You wouldn't have." Rin's voice dropped. "I needed someone."
A beat. Then Leo reached over, resting a hand over his. "I'm here now. You're not doing this alone anymore."
Later that night, back in his apartment, Rin opened the second message he'd been avoiding all day.
Mai: "Emergency wine and gossip night. You don't get to say no. 9 PM. My place. I made brownies."
Mai. His chaos partner, his voice of reason when everything else caved. She'd moved to another district a year ago for work and had only now returned to the city. He hadn't seen her in months either.
The universe had a funny way of sending people back when he was at his lowest.
When he arrived, Mai was already waiting in pajamas and a messy bun, face mask on, wine uncorked.
"About damn time," she said, pulling him into a chokehold of a hug. "I was ready to drag your ass out of hiding."
Rin let the familiarity soak in — the cinnamon smell, the comfort, the home in her laugh.
"You always know when to show up," he said softly.
Mai wiggled her brows. "I sensed disaster through the air. Spill. I want names. I want trauma."
They settled into her couch, wine in hand, brownies half-eaten.
Rin told her about Than. Not everything. But enough.
She didn't interrupt. She only blinked at him once he was done, lips pressed tight.
"You still love him."
It wasn't a question. And Rin didn't deny it.
Meanwhile, across the city, Than stood in front of his father's study.
He hadn't been here in months.
The office still smelled like leather, old scotch, and dominance. His father was seated behind the desk like a shadow, arms crossed, waiting.
"You missed another board meeting," the man said without looking up. "You're making headlines, Thanapat. Not all good."
Than kept his tone calm. "I'll clean it up."
His father looked up then — sharp eyes, older but no less cruel. "You're slipping. And over what? That intern?"
Than didn't reply. He didn't need to.
His father sneered. "If that boy ruins this family's name, I won't hesitate to cut both of you off."
Than didn't flinch, but his jaw ticked. "I don't need your money. Or your name."
The older man laughed, low and bitter. "Then prove it."
Later that night, Than's phone buzzed.
An unknown number.
Ares: "We should meet. I have a proposition. About Rin."
Than's blood ran cold.
Back at Mai's apartment, Rin was lying on the couch, half-asleep, when Mai spoke again.
"Do you ever think Jin's death wasn't an accident?"
Rin turned to look at her.
She stared at the ceiling, voice quiet. "I know it sounds insane. But something always felt… off."
Rin sat up slowly. "Why now?"
"Because," she said. "I saw someone outside my workplace last week. He looked like someone from that night. I've been trying to forget it, Rin. But maybe… maybe we shouldn't."