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Chan turned, the keys dangling loosely from his fingers. Under the sickly light, his eyes looked darker, more hollow than they had in the restaurant. “You think I’m running?” He let out a breathless laugh, but there was nothing amused in it. “No, Hyunjin. I’m leaving. There’s a difference. We’re done.”
Hyunjin stepped forward, the gravel crunching under his boots. “I screwed up tonight. I know. But you can’t just—”
“You screwed up every night for the last six months,” Chan cut in, voice low but shaking. “Every time you said you’d be there and you weren’t. Every time I woke up to an empty bed. Every time you came home smelling like paint instead of me.”
Hyunjin’s throat tightened. “It’s not like that. You’re twisting—”
“I’m not twisting anything,” Chan said, stepping closer now, the streetlamp catching on the shine in his eyes. “I’m just finally saying it out loud.”
or; Hyunjin loves Chan, Chan loves Hyunjin. But maybe that’s not enough to fix the absence of a lover.