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“Fine! I’m sure you’d be embarrassed as hell being friends with an outcast!” he shouted, rage bursting through his chest. His eyes were bloodshot red, like he hadn’t slept in days. The other boy stood still, nails digging into his palms, biting his lip hard—hard enough to draw blood.
“Fucking say something, damn it! I’m sick of you staying quiet and expecting everything to be fine by tomorrow!” His voice cracked, laced with frustration, anger, regret—every emotion tangled together. He swept his wet hair back, biting his trembling lip as the boy in front of him kept his eyes glued to the ground.
They stood there in silence. The wind picked up, the waves grew rougher, and people nearby shouted for them to take cover. Metal clattered somewhere behind them, but neither of them moved, already soaked through by the sea mist and the heavy rain of May.
“Nicholas,” the boy finally spoke. “Let’s stop being friends.”
As thunder struck the ocean, Nicholas felt his world collapse along with it. He looked at the boy—at Euijoo—who finally lifted his head. His red-rimmed eyes mirrored Nicholas’s own. Nicholas searched those eyes, desperate for something—anything—that told him Euijoo didn’t mean it. That it was just a cruel joke. He wouldn’t really end it. Right?
“That’s not funny—” Nicholas stepped forward, but Euijoo stepped back. His face was unreadable—empty.
“Byun Euijoo!” a voice thundered behind Nicholas. He froze. Panic surged in his chest, cold and sharp. A rough shove hit his shoulder, then another, almost knocking him off balance. A man—older, sterner, clearly Euijoo’s father, stepped between them, shielding his son.
Footsteps splashed behind Nicholas, stopping just in front of him. His uncle’s broad back blocked his view, and his mother’s arms wrapped around him, trying to shield him from the rain and ocean’s mist. The two men began shouting —about land, about status, about foreigners, about how they had been “so generous” letting them settle in this small village. About Nicholas. About how he was a bad influence on Euijoo. Bullshit— really.
He was never a bad influence. Never.
It brought him back to the night Euijoo snuck out of his house for the first time. Nicholas had held out his hands to catch Euijoo’s things as the brunette climbed out the window. Mud splashed under his feet when he landed, speckling Nicholas’s shoes — but Nicholas couldn’t even be mad when he saw that wide, excited smile.
Euijoo slipped his hand into Nicholas’s, their fingers intertwining as they crouched low and snuck quietly through the yard. They ended up at the hill behind their school, both of them damp with sweat from the heavy summer air. Nicholas pulled a blanket from his bag, spread it open, and motioned for Euijoo to sit beside him.
“Romantic,” Euijoo had murmured, and Nicholas had prayed the darkness was enough to hide the blush creeping up his neck. They talked for hours, getting lost in each other’s laughter and little stories. Nicholas was the first to lie back, folding his arms beneath his head, and Euijoo soon followed — resting his head on Nicholas’s stomach like it was the most natural thing in the world.
That night, they fell asleep like that, bathed in the warmth of summer and the quiet comfort of each other’s presence.
Euijoo needed that. He needed that night away from his family — away from the walls that always made him feel like he had to be everything for everyone. His family, who only ever showed concern when he was sick to the bone, just enough to keep him from slipping too far, but never enough to truly see him. The same family who treated him less like a person and more like a trophy to be polished and paraded around.
That night, sitting on that hill with Nicholas, was the first time in a long while that he could just be. No expectations, no pressure, no mask to wear. Just Euijoo — breathing, laughing, and existing without having to earn it.
Nicholas had tuned it all out, staring at the wet, mossy cement beneath his mother’s feet. He let the crashing of the waves drown out every word. When he finally came back to himself, he was sitting by the doorway of their small house. His mother was drying his hair with a towel while his uncle ranted about the villagers.
“From today on, I don’t want you hanging around that arrogant boy anymore!” his uncle barked, a cigarette dangling from his lips as he flicked his lighter. Silence crept between the three of them. Nicholas stayed quiet, letting his mother’s gentle hands run through his damp hair. He heard his uncle sigh heavily, and another puff of smoke appeared in front of him.
“We’re moving tomorrow,” his uncle continued. “I’ve had enough of being insulted by this godforsaken village.”
Nicholas shot up. His uncle turned to glare at him, taking a long drag of his cigarette. Nicholas opened his mouth to protest, but his uncle cut him off sharply.
“I don’t want to hear it, Yixiang. You should’ve known your place—with that boy and this whole mess. Pack your things. You too, jiejie.”
He crushed his cigarette underfoot and walked away.
And just like that, Nicholas’s high school years were reduced to three boxes and two suitcases, all loaded onto a small rented truck. He climbed in, wedged between his mother and uncle, staring out at the ocean for the last time, breathing in its salty air.
He didn’t know that, from a distance, Euijoo stood on his father’s boat, watching the truck until it disappeared from his line of sight.
That was ten years ago.
Now, Nicholas lives alone. His mother and uncle had moved back to Taiwan the year before to care for his grandmother. He worked an office job—just enough to get by—and sometimes picked up part-time shifts on weekends if his body wasn’t too sore. His uncle still sent him money, calling it a “nephew tax.”
Today was no different. Nicholas stepped out of his apartment, greeting the old lady who always took morning walks by the park and giving a quick pat to his neighbor’s dog when he spotted them taking a break from their jog.
He arrived at the café where he worked part-time, he tied on his apron and got to work behind the coffee machine. The shop filled quickly. He handled complicated orders with ease—until he picked up a cup to check the name.
“Byun Euijo—” The name died on his tongue.
It felt familiar. Too familiar. He froze, dread crawling up his spine. When he finally dared to look up, he saw him.
Euijoo.
The same boy he thought he would never see again. The same boy he had buried deep in the back of his mind, too painful to dig up. The same boy Nicholas hadn’t prepared himself to face—not even after ten long years.
He hadn’t changed much—just looked more mature, maybe taller. His hair was still soft and fluffy, his cheeks still puffed up when he smiled, and those round eyes… Nicholas used to say they were as wide as the ocean.
“Hi, Nicholas,” Euijoo said softly.
Nicholas’s stomach twisted. He pushed the coffee toward him, flinching when their hands brushed.
Euijoo smiled behind his cup, taking a slow sip before moving to a nearby table. From behind the coffee machine, Nicholas couldn’t help but watch him—legs crossed, one hand scrolling through his phone, the other holding the latte. Every now and then, Euijoo would glance up and smile, and Nicholas’s heart would skip.
Nicholas exhaled shakily, rubbing his palms on his jeans until they turned red. Sweat collected at his temple, his heart pounding every time their eyes met.
It’s okay, he told himself. He’ll be gone in a minute.
Nicholas stood behind the counter, taking orders. When he saw Euijoo finish his drink and stand, relief washed over him—until Euijoo appeared in front of the counter again.
“I’d like to get that spinach roll to go—” he paused, “—and your number too.”
It happened so fast, so boldly—so unlike the Euijoo he remembered. Nicholas’s coworker snickered behind him. His ears burned, but he kept his polite smile, printed the receipt, and handed it over.
“Sorry,” he said, “I don’t give my number to strangers.”
Euijoo’s smile faltered for a split second before he recovered. His eyes glimmered with something —guilt, regret, longing— but Nicholas ignored it.
“Ah, I see,” Euijoo said with a small nod. “Then I’ll come here every day until I’m not a stranger anymore.” He grabbed the paper bag, offered a faint smile, and walked out of the café.
Nicholas stood frozen behind the register, heart hammering like it had all those years ago by the sea.
This was bad. Really bad.
Nicholas knew Euijoo wasn’t the type to give up easily. Three years of growing up alongside him had taught him that much. Euijoo was a hard worker—relentless, determined, and willing to push his body and mind to the brink to get what he wanted. So seeing him sitting at the same table he’d claimed since day one wasn’t exactly surprising anymore.
Sometimes, Nicholas made his coffee; other times, he passed the order to a coworker. Euijoo never complained, never asked for Nicholas specifically. He’d just smile politely, give a small bow, and greet Nicholas if the blond happened to be busy. Then he’d return to his seat—sometimes with a laptop, sometimes a book, and sometimes doing nothing but watching Nicholas work. He would dress nicely too.
That was bad, too. His co-workers teased him every time Euijoo walked out the door. Some even urged him to say yes, to give the guy his number.
But Nicholas never told them about Euijoo. He never told anyone. In the stories of his high school years, Euijoo was reduced to nothing more than a classmate—not even a friend. Just a name among many.
He told himself he could handle it. After all, he only worked weekends —morning until lunch, then he was out.
But really, he should’ve known better. Euijoo always found a way to find him.
Nicholas had just finished a long day at the office, drained and half-dead, ready to collapse face-first onto his mattress. But his menace of a friend, Yuma, had other plans—dragging him straight to a bar the moment he stepped out of the building.
Now, Nicholas sat slumped in a booth while Yuma went to grab their drinks—“All on me,” he’d said. Nicholas scrolled lazily through his phone, waiting, when a familiar voice cut through the hum of the bar.
He looked up. Euijoo was smiling down at him. Fuck, he should’ve known
Before Nicholas could even react, Euijoo slid into the booth beside him, closing the distance until Nicholas’s back hit the wall. Cornered. His frown deepened as his eyes darted across the bar, desperately searching for any sign of Yuma.
“Don’t worry about your friend—he’s fine,” Euijoo said, placing a hand on Nicholas’s thigh. He flinched away, his chest tightening with anger and frustration.
“Did you pay Yuma to get me here?” Nicholas’s voice was low, but the edge in it was sharp enough to cut. His jaw clenched as the words forced their way out between gritted teeth.
Euijoo shook his head quickly. “No. I just told him I wanted to talk to you in private.” He hesitated, eyes flicking toward Nicholas. “He doesn’t know anything about me… does he?”
Nicholas didn’t answer right away. His lips pressed into a thin, hard line. The air between them grew thick — heavy with all the things neither of them wanted to say. Nicholas had smacked his hand away — not hard, but firm enough to make his point. He turned his head toward the empty seats ahead, staring at them like they were easier to face than Euijoo.
The silence that followed felt louder than shouting.
“What the fuck do you want, Euijoo?” Nicholas spat after a long, heavy silence, his voice cutting through the air like glass. Euijoo didn’t flinch. His smile stayed — soft, but trembling at the edges, like it was holding on by sheer will.
“We really need to talk," Euijoo said, he sucks in a deep breath. "I’m sorry, Nicholas—God, I’m so sorry for everything. I’m sorry I let our friendship die like that, sorry I gave up on you, sorry I—”
Nicholas cut him off with a hard shove to the chest, sending Euijoo stumbling back.
“Shut the fuck up,” he said, his voice cracking, eyes glassy. “I don’t want to hear a single thing from you. Ten years, Euijoo. It took you ten years to finally show up in front of me? Ten years to realize how important our friendship was?”
He let out a shaky breath, anger and hurt twisting in his chest.
“I’ve forgotten about you, Euijoo. I’ve forgotten what we had. I stopped missing you, stopped thinking about you—and now, what? you just walked back into my life like nothing ever happened? You show up at my part-time job, acting like some flirty customer, making everyone think I’m the asshole for not giving you my number?”
Nicholas’s fists trembled, knuckles turning white.
“That’s fucked up, Byun Euijoo. You’re fucked up.”
Euijoo stayed silent—just like all those times before. But this time, Nicholas was done with it.
He tried to shove Euijoo out of the booth, but the taller man caught his wrist in one swift motion, pulling him close until their faces were only inches apart. Their breaths mingled, trembling in the narrow space between them. Euijoo’s eyes shimmered, on the verge of tears, his lips quivering as if he were holding back everything he’d never said.
“Please, Nichol, just hear me out.”
Ah, there it was — that damn nickname rolling off his tongue so easily, the one that used to make Nicholas fold without a fight. It would’ve worked once, back when he was still soft, still desperate. But not anymore.
Nicholas scoffed, yanking his wrist out of Euijoo’s grip.
“I love you, Nicholas. I always have. But you know how my father is — you know how he felt about us. I thought I was protecting you. I thought if I stepped back, you’d hurt less. I know it’s stupid, but please—”
“Fuck, Euijoo.” Nicholas let out a shaky, bitter laugh. “Just say you’re pathetic and be done with it. All of that? Excuses. You’ve seen how hard I fought for you — for us. I knelt in front of your old man just to get you out of that house when he locked you in, and you couldn’t even lift a finger for us and yet, you say you were protecting me?” He scoffed again, the sound sharp, tired. “Bullshit. I’m so sick of you.”
A sad smile spread across his face —the kind that didn’t reach his eyes— and it made Euijoo’s chest tighten until it hurt.
“Just go,” Nicholas said quietly. “Please. I don’t want to see you anymore.”
“Nichol— please—”
Euijoo reached for him again, but Nicholas shifted back, pressing himself against the wall as if trying to disappear into it. His face was blank now, eyes fixed anywhere but on Euijoo.
He was done. Nicholas was done with him.
And Euijoo knew — this time, he might’ve lost him for good.
With the faintest, broken smile, he spoke—his voice raw and unsteady.
“I’m sorry. I love you, but I was too much of a coward to be honest with myself—and I ended up hurting you. You deserve someone better, someone who can treat you right. Thank you… for giving me even a tiny piece of your time.”
His voice cracked as the dam finally broke, tears spilling freely down his cheeks.
Nicholas could only stare, mouth slightly open, words stuck in his throat.
And just like that, Euijoo turned and walked away—again—leaving Nicholas hollow, exposed, and aching. The old wound inside him tore open once more, bleeding fresh and painfully real.