TOMI'S POV
I was summoned by a girl while I was crying in my dorm, thinking about all the harsh things Sasha said to me. She said a man was asking of me. I went out to see who it was, thinking it might be ji-hoon. When I saw Tae-ho standing at the edge of the school compound, it was almost like I was dreaming. His face was calm like always, but his eyes—his eyes were red, watery, like he had carried some of my pain before even seeing me. For a second, I froze, my heart choking on the weight of everything that had happened today. "Tomi-ah," he said softly, and that was all it took. My legs moved on their own, shaky, weak, like I hadn't walked in years. I didn't even argue, I just went back in, packed a few clothes and essentials and I followed him.The ride was quiet, too quiet, except for the sound of my own heart hammering in my ears. Tae-ho didn't ask questions, and maybe that's why I felt the tears gather again. Because silence sometimes feels safer than words.By the time we reached Min-Jae's apartment, I was clutching the strap of my bag so tightly that my knuckles ached. Tae-ho held the door open for me, his lips pressed tight in something between sympathy and worry. "I'll give you two some space," he said gently. And just like that, he left. The moment I stepped in, Min-Jae was there. I could tell he was waiting for me. No crutches this time—just a limp, but he didn't care. He didn't hesitate. He wrapped me in his arms, pulling me into his chest like I was something fragile he couldn't risk breaking. His hug was strong, grounding, and my throat ached at the warmth of him. "I saw the video," he murmured into my hair. His voice was low, careful, but it broke something in me. I didn't even know where to start, but I told him everything. About Ji-hoon. About the crowd. About Sasha—God, Sasha—and how her words cut through me sharper than anything else. I told him how angry she'd been, how she'd called me names, even turned cruel in a way I never thought she could. By the time I was done, my voice was small, thin, like I had nothing else left to give. "I don't even know if I can forgive her," I admitted, staring at the floor. "I… I thought she was my person. My best friend. But… how do I forgive all that?" Min-Jae brushed his thumb against my cheek, making me look up at him. His eyes were softer than I expected, almost breaking for me. "You don't have to decide that now," he said. "You just… have to breathe." And he made me breathe. Slowly. He even tried to cook for me. Ramyeon. The smell filled his kitchen, and when he set it down in front of me, I laughed through my tears. "This is dangerous, you know," I teased, poking my chopsticks into the bowl. "Why?" He tilted his head, pretending innocence."You don't invite someone over for ramyeon unless you mean something," I replied, hiding behind a laugh, but my chest was beating too fast. We ate. Side by side. Every slurp, every quiet chuckle, every glance across the table felt like more than food. It felt like something unspoken was stirring. Later, I tried to settle in the guest room. He knew I was tired . My phone lit up with messages—Nia, Yuri, even Sasha's name appeared, but I ignored hers. I typed to the group chat, updating my roommates about everything, about Min-Jae being okay, about how I was safe. My thumbs moved quickly, the glow of the screen the only light in the room. We continued talking and I could tell the girls were so excited for me. I was really happy too. But then I felt it. A dip in the bed. A shift in the air. I turned slightly, and there he was—Min-Jae, crawling behind me, his presence filling every inch of the small room. My breath caught when his hand brushed against my waist, slow, deliberate. "Min…" My voice cracked. He didn't say anything. Instead, his lips pressed softly against my shoulder, feather-light kisses that made my skin burn under my thin nightie. His hand moved lower, then back up, roaming like he was memorizing every curve, every line of me. I could feel him—hard, insistent—through the fabric of his sweatpants, rubbing against me with every small movement. My body shivered, heat pooling in places I was too shy to admit out loud. Then his lips—oh God, his lips—moved to my neck, gentle at first, then bolder, hungrier. My phone slipped from my hand, forgotten on the sheets. His hands found their way to my peaks and he gently squeezed them. I moaned and that seemed to turn him on more. He continued kissing my neck at the same time and then I turned, unable to resist, and faced him fully. His lips landed on mine fiercely. He kissed me hungrily, like he had been waiting, holding back for too long. His mouth claimed mine, and I melted into it, into him. His tongue slid past my lips, slow at first, teasing, then deeper, grinding into my mouth like he was desperate to taste every inch of me. His hand gripped my waist, pulling me closer and then down to my round butt he then moved his hands back to my waist, while my fingers tangled into his hair, tugging, grounding myself in him. I let out another moan and he pulled me even closer to him. His hands were moving quickly into my nightie and suddenly, he unclasped my bra. I knew we had to stop at that point. I held his hand and I guess he understood. He moved his hands back to my butt and slid his tongue deeper into my mouth. Every kiss burned hotter than the last, our breaths mingling, heavy, uneven, as if the world outside didn't exist. And for that moment, it didn't.