Chapter Text
Hamin didn’t know what to do with his boyfriend.
They were supposed to celebrate their fourth anniversary today. He had spent hours secretly decorating their apartment, picturing the way his hyung would light up in laughter the moment he stepped inside. He imagined the sparkle in his eyes, the way his smile curved so beautifully it made Hamin’s heart race. He had even prepared his favorite dishes, debating whether to go with his signature chicken breast salad or take him out for a fancy dinner—especially after Noah had jokingly complained about how reckless his own eating habits had become lately.
Everything was supposed to be perfect.
That’s why he didn’t expect to find Noah here.
Hamin had come to the mortuary alone, planning to pay his respects and seek blessings from his late parents—something he always did on important days like this. He hadn’t told Noah. There was no reason to. This was his quiet ritual, his way of making sure his parents were still a part of his life.
But as soon as he stepped inside, his entire world tilted.
Noah was there.
And he wasn’t just crying—he was breaking apart.
His sobs echoed in the silent hall, raw and unrestrained, like he was barely holding himself together. His whole body trembled, arms wrapped around himself as if trying to hold himself together. His knees wobbled, barely keeping him upright in front of the small compartment. His breath came out ragged, uneven—like he was choking on words he couldn't say.
Hamin’s breath hitched.
Today was Valentine’s Day. Their anniversary. The day Hamin had carefully chosen years ago when he first confessed, hands shaking as he asked Noah to meet him outside in his hyung last term year—after catching him earlier that afternoon in the library. He could still remember how the sunlight streamed through the window that afternoon, illuminating Noah’s golden hair tied in a half-up style as he sat reading with his headphones on. He had been so lost in the moment, so sure this would be the happiest day of their lives.
But today wasn’t a day for celebrations.
Because somehow, in a place where he thought he would be alone—where he thought only his grief existed—he found the person he loved drowning in his own.
✧ ✧ ✧
Deep down, Hamin knew this day would come. The way Noah had been acting these past months felt off—too measured, too careful, as if he was constantly holding something back. Even when he laughed beside him, even when his fingers brushed against his skin, even when his eyes lingered a second too long, there was a distance between them.
Sadness clung to his smile. Loneliness seeped into his touch. Emptiness echoed in his gaze.
Hamin had known Noah would eventually break. He just never thought it would happen on their day. The day that was supposed to be filled with warmth, love, and laughter—now tainted with silent sobs and the cold presence of death.
✧ ✧ ✧
That night, the storm raged outside. Rain lashed against the windows, and the wind howled through the cracks. Hamin carefully balanced two cups of hot chocolate in his hands as he stepped into the living room. The sofa was there, the blanket draped messily over it as if someone had left in a hurry. Noah was gone.
"Hyung?" he called, placing the cups on the table. His eyes flickered toward their bedroom door—dark, save for the occasional flicker of lightning illuminating the space. A cold breeze ghosted past his skin. But he knew he had closed the window.
"Hyung, are you there?" Hamin pushed the slight opened-door even more and switched on the light.
There, huddled by the window, was Noah. He was trembling, his arms wrapped tightly around his knees, his face as pale as a sheet, his eyes were red but no tears could be seen. At the sudden brightness, he jolted, his wide, frantic eyes locking onto Hamin. Panic flickered through them before fading into something even worse—emptiness.
"Hyung, what’s wrong? Did you hurt yourself?"
Hamin rushed forward, his hands reaching out, skimming over Noah’s arms and shoulders in careful, feather-light touches. Noah flinched. His body tensed as if recoiling from the contact—almost. Then, as if grounding himself, he let out a shaky breath and whispered, voice raw and desperate,
“Hamin-ah… I feel so cold. Please… hug me.”
His voice wavered so much that Hamin barely caught the words. Without hesitation, Hamin shut the window, locking out the cruel wind. Then, in one swift motion, he scooped Noah up into his arms, cradling him against his chest as he carried him to their bed.
Hamin held him close, wrapping them both in the warmth of the blanket, pressing soft strokes against Noah’s back. "It’s okay, hyung," he murmured against his temple, "I’m here. I’ve got you."
Even though he had no idea what had shaken Noah so badly, he knew one thing—he would stay. Until the storm, both outside and within, had passed.
✧ ✧ ✧
Noah had fallen asleep early.
Hamin quietly slipped out of bed, grabbing their now-cold chocolate milk before shutting off the TV. But even as he stood there, staring blankly at the screen, his mind refused to settle.
What had happened to Noah-hyung?
Just before heading to the kitchen, he had heard his boyfriend’s laughter echoing through their apartment. It was his favorite scene—Hamin knew that. Noah must have reached the part he loved most in the show. Hamin had even chuckled along, savoring the sound. That laugh was music to his ears.
But then, suddenly—silence. And moments later, Hamin had found Noah curled up in the dark, trembling. The memory sent a shiver down his spine.
Frowning, Hamin reached for the remote, turning it on again, pulling up their video history, but there was nothing unusual. No strange scenes, no unexpected twists. Just the same variety show they had always watched.
Confused, he was about to shut the TV off when something caught his eye.
An ad.
The screen faded into black before soft amber hues took over, casting a dim glow on a single microphone. No faces, no distractions—just a mic, standing alone in the spotlight, bathed in warm, golden light. The shot was simple yet heavy, as if holding the weight of something unspoken.
Then, the voice came.
A voice that sent chills down his spine. It was hauntingly clear, smooth, and melodic—like a siren’s call, weaving effortlessly into his heart. Beautiful. Mesmerizing.
Hamin’s breath hitched. He had heard this voice before. He was sure of it. But no matter how hard he tried to recall when or where, the memory remained just out of reach.
And then, the ad ended.
A message appeared on the screen.
Commemorating the death anniversary of our beloved son, we present the last song he composed before he passed away.
Nam Yejun.
The boy whose dreams can no longer be reached.
Hamin’s entire body went cold.
It hit him like a truck.
✧ ✧ ✧
Hamin slipped back into bed, pressing himself close to his boyfriend, wrapping his arms tightly around him. But the warmth didn’t reach his heart. It ached—sharp, hollow, unbearable. He wanted to wake Noah up, shake him, demand him to say it, to validate his feelings, to prove that what they had was real.
But he was afraid.
Because deep down, he already knew the truth.
Noah loved him. Hamin could feel it in his touches, in his gaze, in the way he said his name. None of it was a lie. None of it was pretend.
But it wasn’t enough.
Even after all these years, Hamin had never been able to fill the small, empty space in Noah’s heart.
And then—
“… Yejun,” Noah mumbled in his sleep.
Hamin’s body reacted before his mind did. His breath caught, his chest tightened, and in an instant, he shoved himself away as if Noah had burned him. His back hit the floor with a thud.
The noise startled Noah awake.
“Hamin?” His voice was thick with sleep, confusion laced in his tone. His eyes widened at the sight of Hamin sprawled awkwardly on the floor. He reached out, concern flickering in his gaze.
But Hamin slapped his hand away.
Noah flinched. He pulled back, shocked at the rejection.
“… Hamin-ah?”
Like a rage had possessed him, Hamin pulled himself up. Almost yelling, “Even if I give you my whole life, hyung…” his voice was breaking, “…there… there’s still a part of you that belongs to him, isn’t there?”
Noah was confused at first, but then it hit him. The ad. The song. The name that haunted them both.
He knew Hamin must’ve seen it.
But—but that didn’t justify the storm raging in the younger’s eyes. It didn’t justify the way he was trembling like he was seconds away from breaking apart.
“… Hamin-ah,” Noah reached out, his voice uncertain.
And that’s when Hamin snapped.
“You called him in your sleep!” His voice cracked, raw with pain. “You called his name! You have never—” he choked, “—never once called mine.”
Noah’s breath caught. His heart stopped.
“Hamin, that’s not—”
“I—I just wish I could be the one you miss,” Hamin whispered.
And that was when the tears came. He tried to hold them back, tried to stay strong, but the weight of it all crashed down on him. He clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms, but it didn’t stop the way his body shook with silent sobs.
Noah wanted to reach for him. To pull him close. To tell him he was wrong—that Hamin meant everything to him.
But could he?
Could he truly say that, when the ghost of Nam Yejun still lingered between them?
Noah swallowed hard.
Because he wasn’t sure of the answer.