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The first time Eunyung sees him again is a week after the incident.
Exhaustion clings onto him; it’s a fatigue that runs deep, seeping into his muscles and burrowing into his bones. Each step feels like he’s dragging his feet, every movement sluggish and strained. The police station’s stuffy atmosphere, the too-bright lights that were like a magnifying glass, trying to inspect every little thing about him, and the relentless questioning left his mind in a foggy disarray.
Eunyung's mind jumbles with self-loathing as he enters the dorm, the dull thrum of guilt pressed into every step. Through his stumbling, the familiar comfort of his room is no more. The air around him, the unspoken tension, it all threatens to crumble down.
His gaze half-lidded and unfocused, he nearly misses the figure before him.
Haejoon is sitting on the bed, waiting in the room they once shared. His presence is magnetic, making the remaining air in Eunyung’s lungs escape. The earlier exhaustion in his body disappears, replaced with an unfamiliar, crushing weight, and his heartbeat begins to quicken.
Eunyung takes a moment to stare because Haejoon is supposed to be dead.
He had seen it with his own two eyes. The sickening sound of a crack, his skull against the pavement, the memory that had seared itself into his memory. Eunyung can still feel the weight of Haejoon’s head in his hands, the warmth of blood spilling over his fingers like molten guilt. The blood he has long washed away, but can’t rid himself of. The memory clings to him, vivid and unforgiving, replaying in cruel detail. The thud, the crimson pool spreading, the overwhelming helplessness. His body betrays him before he can stop it, and his hand trembles involuntarily.
His voice cracks unnaturally, “Fuck—” he whispers, the word escaping his lips. He doesn’t sound like himself. He doesn’t feel like himself. Eunyung doesn’t get like this–he’s not the type of person who gets choked up and feels his chest tighten and his breath hitch. He’s not the kind of person who falls apart, and he sure as hell isn’t the kind of person who sees dead people.
That’s Haejoon’s thing.
Was Haejoon’s thing.
Eunyung can do nothing but stand there, frozen in place. His body is motionless, like it has been locked up entirely, as if moving would make everything more real. This is the quietest he’s ever been– his breathing stills, and he thinks his heart might too. Words hover on the edge of his tongue, but they remain lodged in his throat, tangled and unspeakable. It’s something between holy fuck and I’m sorry, but he’s leaning toward the former. Apologizing feels too much like surrender, an admission of guilt he isn’t ready to give voice to. Not because he doesn’t feel it, but because he feels too much of it.
It almost makes him laugh. Haejoon is dead, and even now, Eunyung can’t force himself to say those two goddamn words. They are impossible to form. Saying it out loud would make it real, and if there was one thing Eunyung can’t face, it’s the reality of it all.
Then he blinks, and just like that, Haejoon is gone again. The space before him is empty, and the room grows colder. A week before, it was cluttered with noise and presence. The room is now unbearably empty.
There is no familiar sound of Haejoon’s mechanical pencil scratching against paper and no rhythm of concentration that fills the quiet hours. No sudden, boisterous entry of Juwan bursting in to complain about some bullshit. No one to nag him about the crumbs scattered across the bed, crumbs Haejoon would’ve frowned at before launching into a lecture about how he’d attract ants. Eunyung can practically hear it in that same exasperated tone, the knitting of his brows, and then how his expression would soften before helping him get cleaning supplies.
There is none of that now. All that remains is the stillness, broken only by the distant and ominous sound of crickets outside the window.
Eunyung's gaze drifts to Haejoon's desk. The workbooks are stacked neatly and untouched, while his calendar is still marked for the days ahead, as if Haejoon might return at any moment. Eunyung's eyes then move to the bed below, which is perfectly made, with not a wrinkle out of place. This sight evokes the same sentiment Eunyung had thought before– he never understood why Haejoon bothered making his bed so carefully each morning. What was the point when it would inevitably get messed up again by the end of the day?
His throat tightens as he swallows, like he’s forcing down shards of glass. There should’ve been more to clean. Something to do. Something to hold on to. Maybe it would’ve helped. Because now, there’s nothing. Nothing to remember Haejoon by, nothing that captured the person he truly was.
The way Haejoon had begun to mirror him in subtle ways. The flashes of pettiness that had surfaced over time, hints of his personality that showed he was far less composed than he let on. Despite how serious and intimidating he seemed, underneath that exterior was someone who had a dry sense of humor– he hadn’t been able to land his jokes quite yet. Or ever.
Eunyung blinks once again, trying to inhale, but the weight presses down on his chest, lingering. With a shaky exhale, he staggers towards the top bunk and climbs into bed. Each movement is heavy, like he’s walking through thick mud, and when he finally collapses onto the mattress, it all sinks in.
This is his fault. All of it.
The anger rises in him, boiling over relentlessly. It always does. It surges and consumes him, coiling around him like chains, shackling him down, dragging him deeper and deeper, pulling him into a version of himself he can barely recognize. The kind of person who should have no right to mourn. This time, this anger drags him all the way to hell.
Eunyung knows he’s not normal. He’s come to terms with that, made peace with it– or at least as much as he can. But this anger he’s carried for so long crushes him, mutating him into something darker, something twisted and sinister. The hurt he’s endured all his life festers inside him like a poison– a hurt he wants to inflict on his parents. He wants them to experience every ounce of it, to drown them in the same pain, to suffer the way he has.
From the beginning, he’s known the truth. It was stupid to seek them out. Revenge wouldn’t fix anything. His parents are too set in their ways, too stubborn to ever see him as anything other than a disappointment. Nothing he did would change the way they controlled and hurt him, it wouldn’t stop the cycle of pain they thrived on. But knowing didn’t stop him.
The repetition of his mistakes play on an endless loop in Eunyung’s mind, a punishing series of events that refuse to let him breathe. Every misstep, every decision, every word he could never take back echo in his head. He keeps replaying it all– how things could have gone, how they should have gone.
Confronting his parents? That had always been inevitable. They deserved what was coming to them. Those two cruel, sorry excuses of humans deserved everything that was coming for them. He has no regrets about that.
But Haejoon? Haejoon didn’t deserve any of it. He didn’t deserve to be part of Eunyung’s chaos, hadn’t deserved to be dragged into a battle that wasn’t his to fight. And yet, Eunyung had let him get caught in the crossfire.
If it meant Haejoon would still be alive–breathing, talking, frowning at the crumbs on the bed– Eunyung would’ve given it all up in a heartbeat. The plan, the anger, the years of bitter resentment– he would’ve thrown it all away without a second thought. He would’ve watched it burn to ash if it meant Haejoon would still be here.
At the thought, Eunyung turns his head and glances over the edge of the top bunk. His breath hitches when he catches sight of a familiar figure. The ghost of Miyung appears on the bottom bed, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears, though he doesn’t know if ghosts can cry. It doesn’t seem like they should, but the more Eunyung stares at her, the grief written across her face is unmistakable. Her hands clutch the fabric of her dress, like she’s trying to hold herself together.
“He’s gone,” Eunyung murmurs. “He’s dead.” The words escape before he can stop them– and he doesn’t know why he says them, but he thinks it’s because she deserved to know. Maybe because Haejoon had loved her, or something close to it. She had been a flicker of warmth in his world, a glimpse of home. And in an impossible, almost fractured way, Eunyung wants to return that warmth, to honor what they had, to return the sentiment.
Miyung doesn’t answer, but he didn’t expect her to. What he didn’t expect was the utter devastation that spread across her face. For a moment, she looks like a child– lost, broken, and drowning in a grief too big for her body.
She’s a ghost. Shouldn’t she already be closer to death than either of them? A cruel part of him had assumed that maybe she’d even be happy– relieved that Haejoon would finally join her. Then Eunyung feels it– something sharp, a bitter sensation brewing in his chest, and distantly he recognizes it as jealousy.
It claws at him, ugly and desperate. At least she gets to be with him now. At least she gets to keep him. But it quickly fizzles out, extinguished by Miyung’s undeniable grief. There’s no relief in her expression, no peace, just pain. The vividness of it crashes into him, and the realization sinks in.
Haejoon is gone for her, too.
Slowly, he lets himself fall back against the mattress, and he stares blankly at the ceiling. The void in his chest– the one he’s carried his entire life– begins to shift, threatening to cave in on him.
“Me too,” Eunyung whispers suddenly.
There’s silence as Miyung stops, and he hears her draw closer, her eyes fixing on his face.
“I…” He begins, steeling himself. He swallows, trying to force the words out, summoning the strength to continue. He won’t let himself fall apart. He doesn’t deserve to– not when he’s the one who caused this devastation. He’s lost the right to mourn the moment Haejoon’s blood soaked through his hands. “I never thought he’d leave me, too.”
The admission slips out, causing his voice to crack unexpectedly. He didn’t expect to say it aloud. But now he has, and the truth unravels inside him.
Eunyung had gotten comfortable with the illusion that Haejoon would always be there. That they’d stick together because, like him, Haejoon had no one else. It was that loneliness, that longing for company, that tethered them together– two broken individuals chasing the same thing. Yearning for a place to belong. Desperate for someone to stay.
It was that shared desperation that fooled Eunyung into believing Haejoon couldn’t leave. That their mutual suffering had grown into something sacred, something meaningful, something unspoken but unbreakable. Somewhere in their darkness, they’d found solace in each other.
They’d seen one another at their absolute worst– and somehow, they’d still chosen to stay. And in that, Eunyung had started to believe in something more.
Haejoon had changed him. Saved him, in a way no one else ever had. With Haejoon, he wasn’t just surviving anymore, he found himself living. For the first time, he had found someone who saw him beyond what he displayed, beyond his anger, beyond the damage. And Eunyung liked to believe he had done the same for Haejoon. That he had helped him learn how to live, too.
Tears prick at the corner of his eyes unexpectedly. It momentarily stuns him, and he freezes at the unwelcome feeling. It takes him a moment to recognize it for what it is. Grief.
Without thinking, he wipes them away in a quick, rough motion. He won’t cry, he won’t give himself that indulgence. Not when it’s already too late. Not when nothing– nothing – he does will ever change what happened. Haejoon is dead. No amount of tears, guilt, or regret will ever bring him back.
Eunyung’s heart twists violently with fury, a searing rage threatening to tear him apart from the inside out. It bubbles beneath his skin– he’s furious. Furious at Haejoon. How could he? How could Haejoon leave him like this? To be there for him, make Eunyung begin to rely on him, and then disappear as if everything they ever shared could be forgotten so easily? Damn him– damn him for dying. Damn him for abandoning him. Eunyung’s hands tremble, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles turn white, fingernails pressed hard against his palms that it hurts.
What the hell is he supposed to do now? Everything is unraveling around him, and Haejoon was supposed to be there to help him– to hold him together. But now Eunyung’s the only one left. The pieces of shit called his parents are still looming over his life, waiting for their next chance to rip him apart. Juwan’s fallen apart completely, a wreck of tears and inconsolable.
Eunyung has been living in a haze. His days consist of police interviews and interrogation rooms, forced to recount the worst night of his life so many times that he has stopped keeping track. The questions blur together, and so do his answers.
Then, there’s Haejoon’s uncle. The man hasn’t stopped calling, hasn’t stopped sending messages, and Eunyung hasn’t stopped ignoring them. He can’t face him– he won’t face him. He’s terrified to face him. Because looking at Haejoon’s uncle meant facing the truth, and it would mean admitting that he’s responsible. That it was his fault– his obsession with hurting his parents back that dragged Haejoon into this mess in the first place. It would mean looking at the face of a grieving man coming to terms with that he’s now alone, that his sister is dead, and his nephew is gone. No doubt, Eunyung can imagine him alone in his apartment, drowning himself in alcohol, trying to drink the sorrow away, and for once, Eunyung can’t bring himself to judge him.
It doesn’t feel fair. None of this was fair. But then again, when has life ever been fair to people like him? Eunyung knows this anger is irrational. He knows the blame doesn’t fall on Haejoon. Haejoon is the one who lost everything– his future, his breath, his chance to live. Yet here Eunyung is, still breathing, still alive, still so angry.
All he can think about is how wrong it feels. That Haejoon is the one who lost his life, while Eunyung is left behind to rot in guilt and grief. That he’s still here, complaining about his own life– a life Haejoon no longer gets to live.
Eunyung squeezes his eyes shut in an attempt to block it all out. He’s spiraling– falling into a place he swore he’d never return to, a place he never thought he’d go back to. The hallucination of Haejoon is proof enough that he’s losing his mind. His brain is purging every emotion he’s tried so desperately to bury, clawing its way to the surface. He’s losing control, and the numbness he’s relied on for so long, his defenses, it all hollows him out, and Eunyung’s left an empty husk. A part of him feels dead, too. Maybe when Haejoon died, he took a piece of Eunyung’s soul with him.
The thought sits with him. When Haejoon’s heartbeat stopped, it felt like something inside Eunyung was ripped away, too. Since then, he’s felt wrong. Empty. Incomplete.
He feels rotten. And maybe he’s always been. Rotting from the inside out, consumed with sin and guilt that churned inside his gut until it grew unbearable. He can’t stay here. Not in this room. Not in this skin. He can’t breathe.
Without thinking, without even realizing he’s moved, Eunyung stumbled to his feet. His movements feel robotic– like he’s not in his body anymore. He yanks his sweater off the floor, pulling it over him with shaky hands. He forces himself out, he doesn’t know where he’s going– he doesn’t care. He just knows he needs to leave. To get out of this room.
As Eunyung opens the door, he bumps into a familiar figure on the other side. The impact is slight, but it’s enough to jolt him from his haze. Blinking, he looks down– and finds himself face-to-face with Juwan.
He’s saying something– his lips are moving, probably demanding to know where Eunyung’s been, why he’s been ignoring his calls and messages. The words don’t quite register. It sounds like muffled static in Eunyung’s head, but the concern on Juwan’s face is unmistakable.
Juwan’s always been a worrier– loud, overbearing, and impossible to shut up. It used to annoy the hell out of Eunyung. Now, it almost feels grounding. It’s strange. Eunyung has never had a friend like Juwan before. Someone who keeps showing up, even when Eunyung pushes him away again and again. Someone who cares so openly, so passionately. He doubts Haejoon had anyone like that either. People like Juwan– soft, gentle, kind– they don’t stick around guys like them. Not around people so damaged.
And yet, Juwan’s still here.
Glancing downward, Eunyung notices Juwan’s eyes– red-rimmed and swollen, a clear indication he’d been crying for hours. It guts him.
Juwan always had this spark to him– the kind of light that made it feel like nothing could hurt him. Now, that spark is gone. What stands in front of Eunyung is someone grief-stricken, barely keeping it together, and miserable. It’s so unlike the Juwan he’s used to. Seeing Juwan this wrecked stirs something in Eunyung’s chest, a flicker of emotion. It’s a guilt-ridden empathy he doesn’t know what to do with. Juwan’s so broken– so vulnerable.
Juwan stares up at him, his mouth slightly parted, and then he snaps back to life.
“Eunyung?!” His voice cracks. He surges forward, clutching Eunyung’s sleeve with trembling hands. Eunyung instinctively flinches, his muscles wanting to recoil, but he forced himself to stay still, letting Juwan cling.
“I’ve been trying to call you– I didn’t know where you were–” Juwan’s words spill out in a desperate rush. His voice falters, and a shaky breath escapes him. “It’s—It’s been so hard—” His head drops, shoulders trembling as a sob breaks through. He’s barely holding himself together, and when he lifts his gaze again, there’s something in his expression that nearly breaks Eunyung. His eyes are filled with hope.
“I just— please… just say something,” Juwan pleads, his voice coming out in a whisper, hoarse from all the crying. His grip on Eunyung's sleeve tightens.
Eunyung’s chest squeezes in sorrow, but he doesn’t move. The weight of Juwan’s words hung heavy, but he knows– deep in the hollowed-out pit inside him, nothing he says will change anything. His words won’t absolve what he’s done, they won’t ease Juwan’s overwhelming despair.
“What do you want me to say?” he asks flatly. He stares past Juwan, instead focusing on the sky above. It’s pitch black, void of any light, not even the stars come out. It stretches endlessly, and Eunyung finds himself focused on its emptiness. He can’t look at Juwan. Can’t bear to see the misery in his eyes.
The only person who’d ever cared to listen to what Eunyung had to say is gone.
Juwan stares at him, disbelief crawling onto his features. “You can’t be serious,” he spits out, voice trembling with frustration. His eyebrows knit together as he takes in Eunyung’s detached, unreadable expression– it’s so cold it makes Juwan flinch.
“Haejoon’s—” The name chokes in Juwan’s throat, his breath hitching. “You have nothing to say?” he asks, his voice cracking, almost begging.
Juwan’s desperate, searching for some sort of explanation. For a reason. For anything that could help him make sense of this nightmare. For something to explain why things turned out the way they did.
But there’s nothing, just silence. And in that silence, the memories come crashing in.
Eunyung remembers the hospital. He remembers the moment Juwan arrived, sprinting through those doors so frantically. The panic in Juwan’s eyes was unforgettable– how his confusion warped into a kind of hysteria the moment Haejoon started coding, the doctors blocking their view, being rushed into an emergency room.
And he remembers Juwan turning to look at him. Euyung had just sat there, frozen in shock, his hands drenched in Haejoon’s blood. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t spoken, hadn’t even had the sense to wipe the blood from his skin. It clung to his fingers, soaked into the cuffs of his sleeves.
It was Juwan who moved. Who took his hands, gently, and led him to the hospital bathroom. Juwan had scrubbed the blood from his fingers, his own hands trembling just as violently. The mix of warm water, soap, and the blood of Haejoon sent a repulsive stir to his stomach. It twisted until he thought he might vomit. But still, Juwan said nothing. He kept on scrubbing, not letting go until the blood was freed from his hands.
(Juwan wanted to scream. He wanted to demand answers, to shake the truth out of Eunyung. But when he looked at Eunyung– really looked at him, he didn’t see someone hiding something. He saw someone already destroyed. There wasn’t any defiance, only a terrified expression that mirrored the fear in Juwan’s heart.
And so they sat in silence. The minutes dragging by like hours, the waiting room buzzing with static, an unbearable tension pressing down the both of them.
Then, two hours later, the doctor emerged. His face was pale, and a grave expression was on his face, followed by an apology. Haejoon was dead.
The doctor’s words still echoed in Juwan’s ears, crashing over him like a wave he couldn’t escape. The shock was too much, and he barely registered the rest of what was said– something about the time of death, something about procedures, something about calling family. It was all just noise, and Juwan’s world instantly felt muted.
His knees had nearly given out under the weight of it. His body no longer felt like it was his own– it was too heavy, too numb. He remembered staring at the doctor, tears streaming down his face, lips trembling, chest heaving, unable to process what had happened.
Because of the circumstances, the doctor explained, they would need to remain at the hospital for detectives to question them. He remembers turning to Eunyung, searching his face for something, any sort of emotion, but his vacant expression revealed nothing. Eunyung stood like a ghost, his gaze locked on the speckle of dirt on the ground, detached and frighteningly still. He didn’t look like he had processed anything of what the doctor had said at all.
While Eunyung looked miles away, Juwan was falling apart. Sobs tore through him, unable to control them, as though something had been ripped from his chest. His heart ached in a way he hadn’t known was possible. The pain was suffocating, stealing the air from his lungs, only leaving behind agony, consuming him completely. He’d never felt anything close to it.
Distantly, his mind wonders if this is how grief will always feel, if this is what Haejoon felt when his mother died. The helplessness, the unbearable ache, the feeling of his heart being torn from his chest.
Time lost all meaning once the detectives arrived. They led him into a side room, their voices low, and at first, Juwan thought they were gathering information, trying to piece together a timeline. But the more the questions went on, the more they shifted, and Juwan’s heartbreak turned to anxiety. They weren’t just documenting– they were investigating.
A possible homicide case.
The words made Juwan’s stomach recoil, a cold fear seeping into his veins. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Homicide? Someone had done this– someone had done this to Haejoon?
His mouth went dry. “No,” he whispered, then louder. “No, no, that’s not right. What are you talking about?” His voice rose with panic, growing frantic for answers. “Please,” he begged, throat hoarse from hours of crying. “Please tell me what happened to him— what do you mean?” But they wouldn’t explain. They gave him nothing. Only more questions, more silence, more dread.
Through it all, Eunyung remained still. He sat in the corner of the room, his hands on his lap, and Juwan could see them trembling faintly. Juwan couldn’t take it anymore. It was all too much– but it was Eunyung’s silence that made him crack.
Why wasn’t he speaking? Why wasn’t he asking what happened to Haejoon? Why wasn’t he demanding answers, shouting, crying, anything?
What did he know? What was he hiding? And why- why wasn’t he saying anything?)
Now standing face to face with Eunyung once more, Juwan’s anguish boils into something darker. The emotions he’s been holding back finally burst to the surface.
“Haejoon should’ve never met you.”
The words make Eunyung's head snap to attention, whose eyes widen in surprise, shock across his features– not because he doesn’t expect blame, but because it’s Juwan saying it.
Juwan’s voice trembles as he continues, his breath catching on the next words as if he can’t bear to speak them. “He’s…” He couldn’t bring himself to finish. “All of this— everything that happened— it was because of you, wasn’t it?”
The accusation strikes down on Eunyung, but he doesn’t flinch. He opens his mouth, instinctively ready to argue, but the words catch in his throat. How can he deny it when he knows he’s responsible?
“Yeah.” The admission escapes his lips. “ I killed him. So what?” The guilt is suffocating– heavy, heavy, heavy, an unbearable weight that settled itself in his bones, in his blood. It festered beneath his skin like rot, like something diseased. His body can’t contain it, it revolts against it. “I did it!” He shouted, stepping closer, voice rising with self-hatred he can’t contain. “Is that what you want to hear? I fucking killed him! I’ll kill you too!” His chest heaving.
The silence that follows was deafening– his own words echo inside his head, and with horror, he realizes he can’t take it back. The weight presses down on him further, crushing all the air he had left in his lungs.
The truth is that he killed Haejoon. He involved Haejoon, let him into secrets he should’ve never let him near. Eunyung had always kept people out. It was how he survived this long. So why had he let Haejoon in?
Eunyung only stops when he sees the fear on Juwan’s face. Eunyung’s heart skips a beat, his stomach twisting into a sick knot as reality sets in. Juwan is afraid of him. He takes a step back– Juwan steps back – and Eunyung feels his world spin. He thinks I killed Haejoon.
Juwan looks at him like he’s a stranger– even if it’s only for a split second, Juwan looks at him like he’s a threat, like someone who did the unthinkable. After everything, after all they’d been through, Juwan still sees him as nothing but scum. Juwan sees him as the scum of the earth, as someone capable of killing Haejoon.
The realization hits Eunyung like a blow. Juwan thinks he’s capable of murder. The thought coils inside him. His breathing stutters, and for a moment, it’s as if he can’t receive enough air. Rage flares before he can stop it, and it completely blinds him. He shoves Juwan hard– a desperate attempt to shake the expression off the other’s face. Juwan stumbles back, startled.
Eunyung glares at him, his heart pounds, eyes burning. “Ah, shit,” he mutters. His voice shakes, somewhere between heartbreak and incredulity. “Do you really think I’m capable of killing him?” His eyes search Juwan’s face with wretchedness. “After everything he’s done for me?”
His voice cracks, his composure beginning to slip. He doesn’t wait for an answer. Because if Juwan says yes– if he truly believes he killed Haejoon– then there’s nothing left to salvage. Eunyung’s hands tremble as he rubs his face, trying to ground himself, trying to force the heat in his face down. He’s overcome with so many emotions they’re difficult to name– shame, anger, grief, self-hatred– it all bleeds together.
He turns abruptly, storming back towards the entrance. Without a second glance, without giving Juwan the chance to speak, to respond, to take it all back– Eunyung slams the door shut behind him.
Eunyung makes the long, dreadful walk back to his room. The hallway feels endless, and by the time he reaches the stairwell, his knees buckle underneath the pressure of it all. He climbs the stairs slowly, the creaking of each step heavier than the last.
Once in the room, he doesn’t spare the top bunk a glance. Instead, he’s drawn to Haejoon’s bed, the scent of him still lingering faintly in the fabric– warm detergent, his ocean breeze shampoo– it nearly undoes him. Eunyung collapses onto the mattress, curling in on himself. He feels hollow.
His mind won’t stop– he’s really done it now. He’s admitted it– told Juwan he killed him. They are words he can’t take back. Maybe by morning, he’ll be woken up by police officers, cuffs on his wrists, dragged away to pay for what he’s done. It’s what he deserves.
A voice cuts through the haze.
“I mean,” someone says casually, like it’s all some joke. Eunyung lifts his head with effort, turning to the source of the voice. And there he is. Haejoon.
Sitting in his old chair like he never left, his leg slung over the other, leaning over to look at him. He’s smiling– the same smile he wears when he’s amused, the same tilt to his lips that used to drive Eunyung crazy.
“What did you expect?” Haejoon asks, his head tilting. “You said you killed me. What were you thinking?”
Eunyung stares at him, throat closing. If it really were Haejoon, he’d retort back– curse at him, roll his eyes– but now, he can’t even speak. There’s nothing to say in his defense. He’s already damned himself. His chest trembles, his body aching as he exhales. His hands curl into Haejoon’s blanket, and he swallows hard, but it does nothing to ease the burning in his throat.
The vision of Haejoon lingers for a moment longer, before Eunyung can’t help but rip his eyes away. Eunyung’s body, finally too exhausted to hold itself together, surrenders to sleep.
There’s no comfort in it, no true rest– just darkness, unrelenting and cold. No dreams, and no peace. Nothing.
The ring of his phone jolts Eunyung from his restless half-sleep. He fumbles for it blindly, blinking away the haze, and his eyes stare down at the screen. The number is one he recognizes– a contact he’s grown familiar with. It’s the police– and with a dry throat and trembling fingers, he answers. The voice on the other side comes out muffled, either from his poor sleep or dread or both. It takes him several seconds to grasp that he is supposed to head to the station.
This is it. His punishment. His sentence. The price for what he’d done to Haejoon. Still dazed, Eunyung sits up, glancing toward the empty chair near the desk. The place where Haejoon had been the night before, smiling at him. Now, it’s just empty.
He doesn’t bother changing out of yesterday’s clothes. He doesn’t find the point. Instead, he slides his feet into his slippers. He pulls at his hair tie, taking it out of his hair, and places it carefully on the desk like a final offering. Then, he makes the long journey out.
As he reached the grass out front, he turned for one last glance. A final goodbye at the place he once called home. Haejoon stood there again, smiling gently– almost forgivingly– before turning away into nothingness.
The police station is too bright. Eunyung feels numb as he’s led down a hallway, not in handcuffs, but he knows it’s inevitable– he expects to be thrown in a cell once they reach the destination.
Instead, they guide him into a simple room.
“We received CCTV footage of the incident,” the detective begins. Eunyung blinks at him. Incident, the term replays in his head. “We reviewed it. Haejoon slipped. The fall is what caused his death.”
A pause.
“His death has been ruled an accident. You’re free to go.”
The words feel like empty noise, like they can’t be real.
“But…” Eunyung’s voice cracks, barely above a whisper. “The glass bottle… his head– the blood. I–”
“Made no contact,” the detective interrupts him. “It’s unfortunate, really. But the footage is clear.” And just like that, the man stands and opens the door for him. “Have a nice day.”
A nice day.
Eunyung steps outside, the sun uncomfortably bright against his skin. Each footstep feels as though he’s floating, like he isn’t really there. He walks without a purpose, each leg stumbling over the other.
He had resigned himself to a life behind bars. He had accepted he’d never breathe free air again. And now… now they’re letting him go free.
What does freedom even mean without Haejoon?
Before he knows it, he’s back at the dorm. The door cracks open, and it reveals the same quiet, the same stiff air. He stepped inside, barely breathing. Some part of him still hopes Haejoon will be waiting there again, but he isn’t. Eunyung makes his way up the stairs, pleading that he’ll get to see him one last time– even if it isn’t real. He pushed the door open slowly. Just one more time.
But there isn’t anyone. Only the messy bed Eunyung had left.
Haejoon is gone. Not just gone from the room, but from the world. For good.