Chapter 12 - The Silence Between Us

The door clicked shut, leaving behind an eerie stillness in the room.

Hyunjin remained seated, his fingers curled around the fabric of his pants, knuckles slightly pale from how tightly he was holding on. His heart still ached from Chan's departure, but more than that, it ached from the unbearable tension that hung between him and Minho.

Minho stood near the entrance, his arms crossed, an expression unreadable but undeniably irritated. His presence filled the room with something cold, something suffocating.

"Are you really going to bring your friends into this house every time you need someone to cry to?" Minho's voice cut through the silence like a blade.

Hyunjin's grip tightened.

"I wasn't crying," he replied softly, voice steady despite the storm inside him.

Minho let out a humorless chuckle. "Right. You just look that pathetic all the time."

Hyunjin inhaled quietly, forcing himself to remain composed. He knew better than to fight back. Knew better than to let Minho's words sink their claws into him.

Because Minho wanted a reaction.

And Hyunjin wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

Instead, he rose from his seat, his movements slow and deliberate as he gathered the empty teacups from the table.

Minho's gaze followed him, sharp and unwavering.

"You don't have to be such a doormat, you know," Minho muttered. "It's honestly pathetic."

Hyunjin paused.

For a split second, he wanted to respond. Wanted to tell Minho that kindness wasn't weakness, that endurance wasn't cowardice.

But he swallowed it down.

Instead, he simply said, "I know."

And that was the end of it.

--

Dinner that evening was quiet.

Not the kind of comfortable silence shared between people who understood each other, but the kind that sat heavy and unmoving, like a wall between them.

Minho barely acknowledged him, scrolling through his phone while eating. It wasn't unusual, but it still hurt.

Hyunjin was used to loneliness.

But being lonely while someone sat right in front of him?

That was a different kind of pain.

Still, he ate in silence, finishing his meal before excusing himself. Minho didn't even look up.

Hyunjin washed the dishes, his mind elsewhere. He thought about his parents, about how different his life had been just a few months ago. He thought about the dreams he had once held, the quiet hopes for love and happiness that now seemed foolish.

When he finally made his way to his room, he felt exhaustion settle into his bones.

But he didn't cry.

He wouldn't let himself.

Because crying wouldn't change anything.

And tomorrow, he would have to wake up and pretend again.