Yeonjun stood in front of the podium, the applause fading like a wave already retreating from shore. He shook hands, accepted the framed certificate, smiled for the cameras.
The promotion was his. He had finally done it.
But as the ceremony ended and the room cleared, he remained behind for just a few seconds longer, staring at the golden nameplate in his hands.
It meant nothing.
The echo of clapping still rang in his ears, but it couldn't drown out the other sound—a silence that had settled deep in his chest. Cold. Hollow.
Soobin was gone. Fired. His name dragged through the mud.
Beomgyu had disappeared, swallowed by scandal and shame.
He had won.
And it felt like losing.
That night, Yeonjun lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling. The guilt gnawed at him. He thought of Beomgyu's eyes the last time they spoke—wet, red-rimmed, full of betrayal. He thought of Soobin, silent in the principal's office, taking the fall for something he never did.
He had destroyed lives to protect his own.
And now, he couldn't even breathe without hearing their names.
By 1:04 AM, Yeonjun found himself outside Soobin's house, drenched in sweat and regret, his hand frozen mid-air before he finally knocked.
Once. Twice. A pause.
Then again, firmer. Desperate.
Inside, Kai stirred first. He sat up, rubbing his eyes.
"Soobin... someone's knocking," he mumbled sleepily. "It's really late..."
Soobin, already halfway out of bed, frowned as he slipped on a hoodie. "Stay here," he said quietly, heading toward the front door.
He opened it—and froze.
There stood Yeonjun. Eyes puffy. Shoulders slouched. His mouth opened, but for a moment, no words came out.
"Kai," Soobin called behind him, voice tight, "you can come out. It's Yeonjun."
Kai stepped beside him, frowning warily. "What the hell are you doing here?"
Yeonjun didn't respond immediately. He looked at both of them, then down at the floor—like he couldn't stand to meet their eyes.
"I'm sorry," he finally said, voice low and rough. "Soobin… I'm so sorry. For everything. For dragging you into it. For lying. For using you."
Soobin was silent. His jaw clenched.
Kai's voice sharpened. "Sorry? After everything you did? You ruined his life, Yeonjun."
"I know," Yeonjun said quickly, desperate now. "I know. I thought if I could just win... if I could protect my career, none of it would matter. But it does. It matters. I hurt people I care about. And I don't know how to fix it—"
"You don't just fix it," Kai snapped.
Yeonjun looked at Soobin again, eyes shimmering. "I came because I wanted to at least try. You didn't deserve what happened. And Beomgyu... he didn't either."
Soobin's expression shifted—still guarded, but less sharp now. He stepped outside, closing the door softly behind him as Kai lingered at the threshold.
"You really came here to apologize at 1 AM?" Soobin asked, arms crossed.
Yeonjun nodded. "Because I couldn't sleep. Because guilt doesn't wait for daylight."
Soobin studied him for a long moment. Then he sighed. "I don't forgive you. Not yet. But I believe you're sorry."
Yeonjun's shoulders sagged slightly, a breath of relief slipping out.
"But that's not enough," Soobin added. "You want to fix what you did? Then stop running. Talk to Beomgyu. Face what you broke."
Yeonjun nodded slowly. "I will. I just... I didn't know where else to start."
Kai scoffed under his breath. "It's not about where you start. It's about how far you're willing to go."
The three stood in silence, the night quiet around them. For a moment, nothing more needed to be said.
But the damage was real. The road to redemption would be long.
And this—this was only the beginning.
Later on when the sun had risen, Yeonjun stood in front of the Choi residence, his hands trembling as he rang the doorbell. He had barely slept. After leaving Soobin's place, the only thing on his mind was Beomgyu—where he was, how he was. If he was even safe.
Moments later, the door swung wide to reveal Mrs. Choi.
Her expression darkened the instant she saw him.
"You have some nerve showing your face here."
Yeonjun swallowed hard, keeping his voice steady. "Mrs. Choi… I came to apologize. I know I messed up, but I never meant to hurt Beomgyu like this. I just want to talk to him—please."
Behind her, Mr. Choi appeared in the hallway, tall and stern, a looming presence. He folded his arms across his chest.
"You want to talk?" Mrs. Choi snapped. "After everything you've done? You humiliated our family. You put Beomgyu through hell. You used him."
"No—" Yeonjun's voice cracked. "I didn't mean for things to go this far. I let my fear control me. I was selfish. But I want to fix it. Please. Just tell me where he is."
Mr. Choi stepped forward. "You need to leave. Now. Before I call the police."
Yeonjun's eyes widened. "I'm not here to cause trouble—just let me see him, just once—"
"He's not here," Mrs. Choi cut in coldly. "And even if he was, you wouldn't be allowed near him."
"I just—please, I just need to know he's okay—"
Mr. Choi pointed toward the gate. "Last warning, Mr. Choi. Go."
Yeonjun stood frozen, helpless, desperate.
Then he turned away.
The door slammed behind him with finality.
Back in his car, Yeonjun stared at his phone, heart racing. He opened Beomgyu's contact.
He tapped Call.
One ring… two… three…
Voicemail.
He tried again. Still no answer.
Then a text:
[Failed to deliver]
Blocked.
Yeonjun's hands shook as he locked the screen and leaned back in his seat. The silence in the car was suffocating. All the roads he could've taken before were gone now.
Beomgyu had vanished.
And Yeonjun didn't even know where to begin looking.
+×+
The morning air was brisk as Yeonjun walked through the school gates, eyes scanning every corner, every hallway.
Students murmured greetings. A few congratulated him on the promotion—but none of it registered. His mind was fixed on one thing.
Beomgyu.
He hadn't stopped thinking about him since last night. Something in his gut told him that if Beomgyu were anywhere, he'd be here. Waiting. Hiding. Maybe still hoping, just like him.
But as the morning wore on, Beomgyu was nowhere to be found.
Not in the courtyard.
Not in the library.
Not even in the secluded corners he used to sneak off to with his friends.
Yeonjun eventually found himself outside the faculty lounge. That's when his phone buzzed.
He unlocked the message from Soobin.
> "Yeonjun. I figured you'd be looking for him. Beomgyu texted me this morning. He's leaving. Today's his flight to the U.S. He didn't say much, just wanted me to say goodbye for him. If you're lucky, you might still be able to see him, so go get him."
Yeonjun froze. His heart pounded in his ears.
Leaving?
No. No, this couldn't be happening. Not without him seeing Beomgyu. Not without making things right.
Without wasting a second, he shoved his phone into his pocket and bolted from the school.
+×+
The drive to the airport blurred in his memory — red lights, fast turns, a stream of apologies to every driver he nearly cut off. All that mattered was time.
When he reached the airport, he ran through the sliding doors and straight to the nearest counter.
"Passenger named Choi Beomgyu? Flight to the U.S.—New York. Please—"
The attendant tapped her keyboard, frowned slightly, then looked up.
"I'm sorry. That flight just departed twenty minutes ago."
Yeonjun's breath caught.
"No… wait, no, are you sure? Can you check again?"
She gave him a sympathetic look. "I'm really sorry."
He turned slowly, dazed.
He stumbled back, chest tightening.
He was too late.
In the terminal, dozens of families embraced, travelers rushed to gates, and strangers wheeled suitcases toward new destinations.
But there was no Beomgyu.
No familiar smile.
No last glance.
Just... silence.
Yeonjun stood still, surrounded by movement, yet feeling completely alone.
His hands slowly slipped into his coat pockets as he looked up at the flight board. The words "Departed" glowed beside a flight to New York.
Beomgyu was gone.
Really gone.
And this time, it was Yeonjun who had to live with the goodbye that never came.