Jaewon lingered outside Seo-young's apartment, shoulders slumped, the past weeks weighing on him like something he could not put down. The night air was sharp, needling through his thin jacket, but he hardly felt it. When the door finally opened, Seo-young took one look at him and arched a brow, arms folding across her chest.
"You look awful," she said flatly, stepping aside.
"I feel worse," Jaewon murmured. He dropped his bag by the sofa and sank into the cushions, elbows on his knees, face buried in his hands. The thought returned the way it always did, blunt and unavoidable. Taesan was gone.
Seo-young leaned against the counter, watching him without sympathy. "You're lucky I'm letting you stay here at all, Jaewon. Most people wouldn't. You've worn out every favor you had."
"I didn't mean to," he said, voice muffled behind his palms. "I didn't think it would end like this."
"You didn't think," she cut in. "That's the problem. You never noticed what he was carrying for you. You assumed he'd stay, no matter what you did. "
He flinched but said nothing. There was nothing to argue against.
"Jaewon… Taesan trusted you, and you hurt him in return. You really took in Maya's words and decided—" Seo-young began, her voice trembling as it broke off mid-thought.
"There's no fault of hers," Jaewon said hoarsely. "I did it myself. I chose to let her words get into my head, and then I deceived Hyung. But… didn't he think of me even once?"
"Jaewon…" Seo-young's eyes softened with a quiet, painful understanding. "He did it to save himself from you."
Jaewon stilled.
The words did not land all at once. They sank slowly, like something heavy slipping beneath water, dragging the air from his lungs. For a moment he could not breathe, could not speak, could not even lift his head. The truth settled into his chest with a dull, irreversible weight, and the ache that followed felt deeper than anger, deeper than shame. It felt like loss finally being named.
***
In the days that followed, he tried reaching for whatever fragments of his old life might still answer him. Maya's number came first. His fingers hovered before pressing call.
"Hello?" Her voice sounded careful, already guarded.
"Maya, it's me," he said quickly. "I need help. Just… talk to me."
Silence stretched on the line.
"Jaewon," she said at last, soft but distant, "I can't get involved. Not after everything. I don't wanna be in the bad sight of that CEO."
"Maya, I—"
"I'm sorry." The call ended.
He stared at the dark screen, the rejection settling slowly. Maya had always picked up before. Always. He called Chan next. It rang once, then dropped straight to voicemail.
"Hey. It's me," he said after the tone, words rough. "Just call back, okay? I just… need someone."
Chan never did.
The quiet that followed was worse than anger. Messages left unread. Calls unanswered. Conversations cut short. It felt as if his name had simply slipped out of people's lives without resistance. He spent most of his time at Seo-young's apartment, lying awake on the couch or staring at the ceiling, replaying the last night over and over. Taesan's steady eyes. The distance in his voice. The finality of it.
This is where it ends.
Every time he closed his eyes, he heard it again.
That evening, Seo-young returned to find him at the small dining table, a mug of coffee long gone cold in front of him. He had not touched it.
"Still sitting here?" she asked, setting her keys down. "You've barely moved all day."
"What else is there to do?" he said without looking up.
"You could stop drowning in yourself," she replied, irritation edging her tone. "I know you're hurting. That doesn't mean the world stops."
He let out a hollow breath. "Hyung's gone. The apartment's gone. Nobody answers me anymore. What exactly is left?"
Seo-young rubbed her temple, exasperation giving way to something more tired. "You burned people, Jaewon. Over and over. You don't get to act surprised they stepped back." She paused, then added more quietly, "You want anything to change, you start by admitting what you did. Not to me. To yourself."
The words landed heavier than she intended.
Jaewon lowered his gaze to his hands resting on the table. For a long time he did not move.
***
Later that night, Jaewon sits on the balcony, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders as the city lights twinkle in the distance. The air is crisp and cold, matching the emptiness he feels inside.
"I didn't mean for any of this to happen," he whispers to himself. "I just wanted things to go back to the way they were."
But deep down, he knows that's impossible. Taesan has left, and he's not coming back.
Seo-young steps onto the balcony, holding two mugs of steaming tea. He places one in front of Jaewon and sits beside him.
"You need to stop wallowing," he says.
"I don't know how," he admits, his voice barely audible. "I've lost everything. My friends, my money… Hyung."
"Then start over," he says simply. "Pick up the pieces and rebuild. No one's going to do it for you."
Jaewon takes a sip of the tea, the warmth spreading through his chest. For the first time in days, he feels a flicker of something—hope, maybe.
But the hope is faint, fragile. As he stares out at the city, his thoughts drift back to Taesan. He remembers the way Taesan used to look at him with admiration, the way he called him "hyung" with such trust and warmth. And now, all of that is gone, replaced by coldness and betrayal.
He does not notice how hard he is gripping the mug until Seo-young's hand settles gently over his wrist, easing the tension there. "Jaewon," she says quietly, her voice cutting through the churn of his thoughts.
He blinks, dragged back to the room. "What?"
"You have to let him go," she says. The words are steady, neither harsh nor soft, but grounded in something unarguable. "Taesan made his choice. You can't keep living in the space he left behind. You have to decide what you're going to do with what's left."
Jaewon looks at her for a long time, eyes unfocused, as if the meaning is still traveling toward him. His fingers loosen slightly around the mug. "I… don't know if I can," he says at last, the admission quiet and unguarded.
Seo-young's grip tightens just enough to be felt. "Then don't think about the end of it," she murmurs. "Just the next step. One step, then another. You've survived worse than this, even if you don't believe that right now."
He does not answer. The silence that follows is heavy but no longer frantic. As the evening drifts on, her words remain with him, settling slowly, like dust after something has collapsed. The future still feels distant, unreachable, but not entirely blank.
For now, though, guilt sits deepest. Beneath it, a grief that will not move, rooted in the simple, irreversible truth that Taesan is gone from his life, and nothing he does can call him back.
——————— TO BE CONTINUED