Han didn't want to go home—only loneliness waited there—so he stayed at the university, dragging himself through classes. By evening, he headed to the basketball court, hoping the noise would distract him.
But before he could step in, Jun called out.
"Han, come to the dressing room. I need to talk to you."
Once the door shut, Jun spoke seriously.
"Han, I want you to play in the match in Country Yuan."
Han froze. His fingers tightened around the strap of his bag.
"You know I can't play. So why are you asking me?"
"Our players are injured," Jun said, frustration breaking into his voice. "There's no one else who can play like you. If you don't come, we'll lose. What's the point of going all the way there just to come back empty-handed?"
"Gege… I understand," Han murmured. "But if my dad finds out, he'll kill me."
"Can't you just ask for permission?"
"You know he will never allow it. I'm sorry."
Jun stepped closer, jaw clenched.
"Han, what are you even doing for this team? What effort are you putting in? Nothing. If you can't play this match, then leave the club. I don't want to see you anymore."
His voice cut deeper with every word.
"You're not a five-year-old child. Learn to deal with your family."
Han couldn't respond. It was the first time Jun had spoken to him like that—cold, disappointed. And it shattered something inside him.
He stumbled out of the building into the night air, his breaths short and painful.
"I can't feel my legs… I'm going to fall," he whispered, pressing a hand to his chest.
"Come on, Hana. Just make it to the car. Then everything will—be fine…"
His vision blurred. Tears collected but refused to fall—not yet. He sank onto the front steps, burying his head in both hands. It wasn't just pain—it felt like a heavy boulder crushing his skull.
Why does it have to be like this…?
He had tried speaking to Seungmin, to Jisoo, even Seokmin. But every time, the words died in his throat.
It's been six years. Maybe there's nothing left between them now.
So why did those old videos haunt him? Why did Seungmin laugh so easily with someone else—yet barely talk to him.?
He stared at his phone as the screen doubled in his teary vision.
He needed someone—anyone—to understand how exhausted he was. He scrolled through contacts, but every name felt distant. There was Wohyun…
But he wasn't in his life anymore.
His breathing quickened. His fingers shook.
Then—rain. Heavy and sudden.
At least now no one would see him cry.
A shadow appeared. Someone held an umbrella over him.
Han's heart jumped.
"Seungmin…?"
No.
"Chaewon…" Han whispered, disappointment obvious.
Chaewon had to raise his voice over the rain.
"Hyung! Why are you sitting out here? Let's go inside!"
"I don't want to," Han mumbled.
"What? Speak louder!"
"I said I don't want to go inside! I want to stay here!"
Chaewon paused—not forcing him, not asking why.
Then he tossed the umbrella aside.
Before Han could react, Chaewon pulled him up—one hand gripping his wrist, the other grabbing his bag—and then lifted him over his shoulder.
"WHAT—PUT ME DOWN!" Han yelled, kicking. Rain drenched them both as students watched in surprise.
Chaewon didn't care. He held him tight until they reached the parking lot. Finally he set Han down beside the car.
"Are you crazy?! Everyone saw that!" Han sputtered. "What if someone recorded us? My image is ruined. All because of you!"