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ohyul realizes there’s something shifting between them, a coldness that has settled into the corners of their apartment like a draft he can't plug. it’s a strange, quiet feeling that makes him hesitate before he speaks, as if he’s walking on thin ice in his own home.
they started dating back in high school. it wasn't a big, dramatic confession; they were just deskmates who spent every afternoon together. ohyul doesn't even know the exact moment it changed from friendship to something else. it was just the way his heart would hammer against his ribs whenever ryul leaned too close to help him with a math problem, or the way they started holding hands secretly under the desk during history class.
back then, everything was a hidden thrill. ryul would steal quick pecks on his cheek while they played playstation in ohyul’s bedroom, or he’d get strangely protective during p.e. class, stepping in if another boy bumped into ohyul too hard. they never even bothered to ask each other out. it just happened.
coming out had been the hardest part. ohyul’s family eventually accepted them, but ryul’s parents didn't. they fought through the tears and the shouting matches, and once they moved out for college, they decided to be proud. they didn't hide anymore. they worked part-time jobs to pay for their life together, though ryul always tried to pick up extra shifts so ohyul could focus on his paintings. ohyul dreamed of having his own gallery exhibition one day, while ryul spent his nights dreaming of being a big music producer.
this morning, ohyul is in the kitchen, the smell of frying eggs filling the air. he hears ryul’s footsteps approaching, heavy and tired. ohyul turns around with a small, hopeful smile, wiping his hands on a dish towel.
"morning," ohyul says softly. "i made your favorite. the eggs are just how you like them."
ryul grunts a response, eyes fixed on his phone as he reaches for a glass of water. ohyul steps forward, closing the small gap between them. he reaches up, his hands settling naturally on ryul's shoulders, and leans in for a simple morning kiss.
in high school, ryul would have dropped everything to kiss him back. but now, as ohyul’s lips get close, ryul flinches. he pulls his head back just an inch, his eyes darting to the side as he avoids ohyul’s mouth. ohyul’s kiss lands awkwardly on the cold fabric of ryul’s hoodie instead.
"i'm running late for my studio session, ohyul," ryul says, his voice flat. he doesn't apologize or look him in the eye. he just steps out of ohyul’s touch and grabs his bag from the counter.
the next time ohyul realizes there’s something changed between them is when he’s sitting at a small corner table of a dimly lit italian restaurant. he’s been staring at the menu for forty minutes, his fingers tracing the edge of the white tablecloth. they’ve both been so busy with college—ohyul locked in the fine art studio with his canvases and ryul buried in music production assignments—that they hadn't had a real date in months. ohyul had saved up for weeks from his part-time job to surprise ryul with this dinner.
he checks his phone again. no new messages. every time the restaurant door opens, ohyul’s head snaps up, but it’s never the familiar frame of the boy he loves.
finally, he can’t take the knot in his stomach anymore and dials ryul’s number. it rings four times before ryul picks up. the background is loud—the muffled thumping of a bass track and people laughing in the distance.
"hello?" ryul’s voice sounds distracted, breathless.
"hey," ohyul says, trying to keep his voice steady. "are you almost here? i already ordered the appetizers because i didn't want the table to go to waste."
there’s a long silence on the other end, followed by the sound of a door closing, muffling the music. "ohyul? wait, what are you talking about?"
"the dinner, ryul. the one we talked about all week? for our anniversary celebration since we missed the actual day?"
"oh. shit." ryul exhales loudly. "yul, i completely forgot. i’m at a classmate’s place. we’re in the middle of a huge mixing project for the final portfolio. if we don't finish this track tonight, we’re screwed."
ohyul looks down at the empty chair across from him. the candle in the center of the table flickers, casting long shadows. "you forgot? i texted you this morning."
"i must have missed it. look, just... just eat alone, okay? or get it to go and bring it home. i’ll venmo you for the steak and the wine later, i promise. just enjoy the night and don't be mad. i really have to go, they're calling me back in."
"ryul, wait—"
but the line is already dead. ohyul lowers the phone, the dial tone ringing in his ear like a dull ache. he looks at the waiter approaching with a bottle of wine, and he has to swallow hard to keep his eyes from stinging.
he doesn't want the money back. he doesn't want to "enjoy the night" alone. he realizes that while he was counting down the hours to see ryul, ryul didn't even have him on his mind. he asks the waiter for a bag, sitting in the heavy silence of the restaurant as he waits to take home a meal for two that he knows he'll end up eating by himself in their quiet kitchen.
the next time ohyul feels the gap between them widening is on a friday night that was supposed to be theirs. they are finally sitting on the same couch in their apartment, the first time they’ve been in the same room for more than ten minutes in weeks. ohyul has been buzzing with excitement all day. he went out and bought their favorite pepperoni pizza and two cold bottles of cola, setting everything up on the coffee table like a sacred ritual.
he picks la la land. it’s a movie they used to talk about in high school, dreaming of their own "city of stars" where ohyul would have his gallery and ryul would have his studio. ohyul settles into the cushions, expecting the familiar warmth of ryul’s arm around his shoulders, but the weight never comes.
ryul is hunched over, his face illuminated by the harsh blue light of his phone. his thumbs move in a constant, frantic rhythm, scrolling and tapping. he hasn't even touched his slice of pizza.
"ryul, look, this is the part you like," ohyul whispers, nudging him gently. ryul just hums, a flat sound that doesn't reach his eyes, and doesn't look up from the screen.
feeling a pang of loneliness, ohyul tries to bridge the distance. he shifts his body, laying down across the length of the couch and resting his feet right on ryul’s lap. he moves his legs up and down, a playful, silent plea for attention, waiting for ryul to catch his ankles or start tickling his feet like he used to. back then, movie nights were just an excuse for ryul to pepper ohyul’s neck with kisses and pull him into a tight cuddle until they both fell asleep.
instead, ryul huffs and pushes ohyul’s legs away. "can you stop? i'm trying to read this."
the rejection is sharp and cold. ohyul pulls his legs back, tucking them under himself as he stares at the screen where sebastian and mia are dancing. he feels small, like he’s intruding on ryul’s private time.
suddenly, ryul’s phone starts buzzing. he answers it before the first ring even finishes. "yeah? oh, hey. no, i'm not doing anything important. yeah, i can talk."
ryul stands up, not even glancing at the movie or the cold pizza. "it's a classmate from the music department," he says to the wall as he walks toward the balcony. "i need to take this, it's about the project."
the glass door slides shut, cutting off the sound of ryul’s voice, which suddenly sounds much brighter and more animated than it did with ohyul. ohyul sits there alone, the colorful lights of the movie reflecting in his eyes. he watches the rest of the film by himself, the pizza sitting like a lead weight in the box, realizing that even when they are inches apart, he's never felt further away.
ohyul realizes the shift is permanent when they go to the cafe with his friends from the art faculty. from the start, ryul doesn't want to go. he says he’s tired, that he doesn't want to ruin ohyul’s time with his friends, but ohyul brings up the missed dinner at the restaurant again. he tells ryul he still feels sad about it, and ryul finally gives in, looking more guilty than actually interested.
they meet up at a small, artistic cafe with youngjae, juhoon, and woonhak. ohyul loves his friends because they’ve always been open-minded, never judging him for being gay and welcoming him from day one. but ryul has never liked woonhak. it isn't that woonhak is rude; ryul just says he can't stand the way woonhak looks at him. ryul is convinced woonhak has feelings for him, and every time they meet, it feels like a cold war. ohyul has said a thousand times that it isn't like that, and even if it were, ohyul only has eyes for ryul.
usually, ryul would be possessive, sitting close and making it clear who ohyul belongs to. but this time, ryul doesn't seem to care. he doesn't glare at woonhak or try to pull ohyul closer. he just sits at the big round table, picking at a napkin while woonhak passes around snacks and milkshakes he already ordered for the group.
youngjae leans forward, grinning. "you know, we’ve been friends for a long time, but i don't think we’ve ever heard the full story of how you two actually met. come on, tell us."
ohyul feels his cheeks heat up. even after all these years, he still gets shy thinking about those quiet moments in the back of the classroom or the way they used to walk home together. he looks over at ryul, expecting him to perk up, maybe even wanting to show off a little in front of woonhak like he used to.
but ryul just looks bored. his gaze is fixed on a crack in the wooden table, his expression flat and disinterested. he looks like he’s just counting the minutes until he can leave.
ohyul starts the story alone, his voice wavering as he describes being deskmates and the small, stolen moments that turned into something more. he pauses a few times, looking at ryul for a nod or a smile to fill in the gaps, but ryul stays silent. he doesn't add any details. he doesn't laugh at the memories.
woonhak is watching them, his eyes sharp and observant. he can clearly sense the tension, and ohyul can feel woonhak’s gaze moving between them like he’s reading ryul’s mind.
when it’s finally time to go, ryul doesn't even wait. he doesn't hold the door for ohyul or check to see if he’s following. he just stands up and starts walking toward the bus stop, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.
ohyul is left standing at the door with woonhak, who reaches out and gently pats his shoulder. "yul? are you okay?" woonhak asks, his voice full of a worry that makes ohyul’s heart ache.
juhoon and youngjae are standing behind them, their usual loud energy gone, replaced by the same concerned looks. they all see it. they all realize that the boy who used to worship the ground ohyul walked on is now walking away without even looking back.
ohyul just forces a small smile and nods, his eyes stinging. "yeah, i'm okay," he says, even though he knows he isn't.
ohyul thinks he could fix the gap if he just tries a little harder. he spends the afternoon in their small kitchen, carefully packing a bento box with all of ryul’s favorites, the way he used to when they were hiding their relationship in high school. he even stops by the pizza place near campus to grab two large boxes, thinking he can feed ryul’s whole production crew and remind ryul that he’s still here, still his biggest supporter.
the music building is quiet when he arrives, the hallways smelling of floor wax and old wood. he pushes open the heavy studio door, expecting to see ryul hunched over a soundboard, but the room is nearly empty. only taesan and dohoon are there, sitting in the glowing light of their monitors.
they both look up, and the look of pure surprise and confusion on their faces makes ohyul’s heart drop.
"ohyul? what are you doing here?" dohoon asks, pulling his headphones down around his neck.
ohyul sets the heavy pizza boxes on a mixing desk, holding up the bento bag. "i brought dinner for everyone. is ryul in the recording booth? or did he just step out for a smoke?"
taesan and dohoon exchange a quick, uncomfortable glance. it’s the kind of silence that says everything before a word is even spoken.
"ryul isn't here, yul," taesan says softly. "he actually left right after our first class ended this morning. we haven't seen him since."
ohyul feels the blood drain from his face. "but he told me you guys were working on a huge group project together. he said the deadline is tomorrow and he’d be stuck here all night. is he... is he lying to me?"
the silence that follows is heavy. dohoon looks down at his hands, and taesan looks like he wants to be anywhere else. they can't answer the last question, but taesan finally speaks up, his voice soft. "we don't have any projects, yul. it's been a chill week since exams ended. we're only here working on our own personal tracks for fun."
ohyul feels like he’s been punched in the gut. he pulls out his phone, his fingers trembling as he types a quick text to test the waters.
ohyul [7:15 pm]: hey, how is the project going? i was thinking of stopping by the studio.
he waits. the three dots appear almost immediately.
ryul [7:16 pm]: it’s a mess. don’t come, we’re all stressed and it’s super crowded in here. just go home and sleep, okay?
ohyul stares at the screen until the words blur. he’s standing in the very room ryul claims is "crowded," and the only sound is the hum of the air conditioner.
"yul? you okay?" dohoon asks, standing up and walking over. "your face... you look really pale."
"yeah," ohyul whispers, his voice sounding like it's coming from miles away. he forces a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "i'm fine. i just... i remembered i have a painting i need to finish for the exhibition. my professor is waiting for it."
he pushes the pizza boxes toward them. "you guys enjoy these. i’m taking the bento back."
he grabs the small bag he’d packed so carefully and walks out before they can say anything else. as the studio door clicks shut, ohyul leans against the cold hallway wall, the bento box feeling like lead in his hand. he realizes then that ryul isn't just slowly changing. he’s already gone.
the air in the apartment is heavy and still, the kind of quiet that makes every tick of the wall clock sound like a hammer. ohyul sits on the edge of the sofa in the dark, his eyes fixed on the front door. it’s 2:00 a.m. when the lock finally turns.
ryul stumbles in, squinting against the dim light from the hallway. he looks startled to see ohyul still awake, his posture stiffening instantly.
"you're still up?" ryul mutters, kicking his shoes off without looking at him.
"how’s the project going?" ohyul asks. his voice is low, empty of the warmth it used to carry.
ryul sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "it was tough, but we finally made it. it’s done. i’m exhausted, yul,”
"i went to the studio tonight, ryul," ohyul says. the words hang in the air like a physical weight. "you weren't there. dohoon and taesan said they hadn't seen you since ten this morning."
ryul freezes for a split second, his hand hovering over his bag. then he shrugs, a careless, jagged movement. "i just went out with some other friends. i’ve been stressed all week and i just needed some time for myself. is that a crime?"
ohyul lets out a dry, hollow laugh. "time for yourself? haven't you been alone enough lately? you won't even let me be near you anymore."
"so what about it?" ryul snaps, his voice rising with a sudden, sharp irritation. "am i not allowed to have my own life? i’m tired, ohyul. can’t you just wait until the morning to start an argument?"
"no," ohyul says, standing up. his legs are shaking, but he doesn't sit back down. "i'm done with you ignoring me. i want to clear this out right now. where were you? why are you drunk and smelling like girl's perfume? are you seeing someone else behind my back?"
ryul rolls his eyes, a long, dramatic sigh escaping his lips. "i went clubbing, okay? it was crowded. someone else’s perfume probably just rubbed off on me in the crowd. are you seriously accusing me of cheating now? is that where we are?"
"i'm not accusing you," ohyul sobs, the first tear finally spilling over. "but how am i supposed to think straight when you've changed so much? you spend more time anywhere else than with me. ryul, we’ve been together since we were kids. you can tell me anything. if you’re stressed, if something is heavy, we can solve it together. just talk to me."
"it’s nothing related to you," ryul says, turning toward the bedroom. "i don't want to talk about it. god, can't you just let me sleep?"
ohyul reaches out, grabbing ryul’s sleeve to stop him. "did you get bored of me? just tell me the truth. if you fell out of love, we can find a way. we can go to therapy, we can take a class together, we can try anything—"
"i don't want to do that!" ryul suddenly snaps, swinging around to face him. his eyes are dark and full of a cold fury that ohyul doesn't recognize. "if anyone needs therapy, it’s you, ohyul. you’re so clingy. you overthink every little thing until it’s suffocating me. maybe if you had a life outside of your paintings and waiting for me to come home, you’d stop worrying about these stupid things."
ohyul flinches as if he’s been struck. "how can you say that? i've supported you through everything. i just want us back."
"well, i’m tired," ryul says, his voice dropping to a deadly, quiet calm. "every time i see you, it just drains me more. i'm not staying here tonight. i'll sleep somewhere else. don't try to find me."
ryul grabs his jacket, turning back toward the door. he doesn't look at ohyul’s shattered expression or the way he’s collapsed back onto the sofa. he just storms out, slamming the door so hard the frames on the wall rattle.
ohyul never sees him again after that night. he sends texts that stay on delivered for weeks. he calls until the line goes straight to voicemail every time. he even waits outside the music department, but ryul stops attending his classes entirely. it’s as if the boy he held hands with under a high school desk never existed at all.
ohyul thinks he will never see or hear from ryul again. it’s been a month and a half, and the silence has become a permanent resident in the apartment. ryul didn't even check in when the rent was due. ohyul had to cover the bills, the groceries, and the utilities on his own. officially, it’s his apartment now, but ryul’s presence is everywhere. ohyul hasn't taken down the photos on the walls or cleared the stray charging cables and half-empty cologne bottles from the dresser. he hasn't even changed the door password.
he hears bits and pieces from taesan and dohoon. they tell him ryul is staying with some older producer he met at a club. word is, a company is interested in hiring him, and ryul is even considering dropping out of school to join them early. he’s chasing the dream they used to talk about, but he’s doing it over the wreckage of their five years together.
it’s 10:00 p.m. on a Tuesday. ohyul is in his pajamas, half-watching a late-night talk show, when the electronic beep of the door lock chirps. his heart stops. the door swings open and ryul walks in. he’s wearing a long black coat and a matching hat, looking sharper and colder than before.
he’s carrying a large, empty duffel bag.
they lock eyes for a long, suffocating second.
"oh, hi," ohyul says, his voice trembling despite his effort to sound casual. "long time no see. i thought you already forgot you had a boyfriend and a home here."
ryul doesn't answer. he doesn't even flinch. he just walks past the sofa, his boots heavy on the floor, and heads straight for the bedroom. ohyul feels a surge of heat in his chest and follows him. he stands in the doorway, watching as ryul rips open the cupboard and starts shoving clothes into the duffel bag with jagged, hurried movements.
"what do you think you're doing, mr. producer?" ohyul asks, leaning against the doorframe. "coming in here, acting like i don't exist, and trying to move things out of my house?"
"i don't have time to argue, ohyul," ryul says without looking up. "i just want my things. i’m never coming back here again."
the coldness of it snaps something inside ohyul. he moves into the room, his voice rising. "you think you can just leave again without saying anything? you left me for a month and a half, ryul. if you're tired of this, at least end it properly. have some balls."
ryul finally stops. he turns his body fully toward ohyul, his expression hard. "fine. you really want me to say it to your face? i want to break up. there. happy?"
"that’s it?" ohyul asks, a bitter laugh escaping him. "no explanation of where you’ve been? no real reason why?"
ryul sighs, looking at ohyul like he’s a difficult child. "isn't it clear? i fell out of love, ohyul. i thought we were meant to be, but i realized we’re too different. i’ve sacrificed so much for this. i lost my family, i lost my youth working to cover us. now that i’m older, i realize this isn't what i want. i want to be free. i want to chase my own life."
ohyul chuckles, but there’s no humor in it. "you think it was easy for me? there were so many times i knew it would be easier to leave than stay, but i never did. i chose to live here with you even though my family could support me, because i knew you left yours for us. i didn't want you to endure it alone. i gave in every time we argued. i accepted how you treated me for months. and don't act like you did everything alone, i worked too. i never held you back, ryul. i gave you so much space you could lie and walk out whenever you wanted."
ryul looks at him, his lip curling slightly. "maybe if you had some kind of self-respect, you would have left the moment i started treating you differently."
thwap!
the sound echoes through the bedroom. ohyul’s hand stings, his chest heaving as he stares at the red mark blossoming on ryul’s cheek.
"you are a jerk, kim ryul," ohyul whispers, his voice thick with tears. "did you even hear yourself? i stayed because i loved you. i stayed because i believed in us. and you're telling me it's my fault for staying?"
ryul doesn't hit back. he just rubs his cheek, his eyes turning even colder. he zips the duffel bag shut and slings it over his shoulder.
"we're done, ohyul," ryul says. "don't contact me again."
he walks out, the front door clicking shut for the last time. ohyul sinks to the floor of the bedroom, surrounded by the empty hangers and the lingering scent of ryul's coat. he realizes that the boy he loved died a long time ago, and the stranger who just left took the last of the air in the room with him. it's over. for real this time.
ohyul really wants to believe that "falling out of love" is the only reason ryul chose to leave. he wants to think the exhaustion was real, because at least that would mean their five years carried some weight.
but then, he hears the truth from woonhak.
it’s a tuesday morning, and the art studio is quiet before the lecture starts. juhoon and youngjae are leaning in close as woonhak slides his phone across the wooden table. there’s a photo from a recent industry networking event. ryul is there, looking sharper than ohyul has ever seen him, leaning close to a girl with sleek hair and an expensive watch.
"her name is kim jueun," woonhak says softly, his voice full of a cautious pity. "she’s a senior in the music department. her father owns starhouse entertainment."
the pieces don't just click; they slam into place. the late nights, the "classmate" who kept calling, the expensive perfume ohyul smelled on ryul’s jacket. it wasn't just a random girl at a club. it was his ticket. she’s the reason ryul got hired early. she’s the reason he’s suddenly a "rising star" producer before he’s even graduated.
ohyul wants to laugh out loud. in the end, ryul didn't leave to be "free." he left because he chose the easy path. it’s funny how, in the beginning, ryul acted like he wasn't scared of anything. he was so sure of them, so ready to fight the world. but now, he’s living the exact life he used to be against. he’s dating a girl, becoming a producer for a big company, and making his parents proud. ohyul wonders if they’ve finally started calling him again now that he’s "normal" and successful.
he realizes ryul didn't just fall out of love; he traded it in for a better deal.
ohyul stays silent, staring at the screen until the image blurs. he doesn't move, his hand frozen over his sketchbook. woonhak watches him closely, his brow furrowed with a deep, heavy worry.
"ohyul?" woonhak whispers, reaching out as if to touch his arm. "are you okay? you've been quiet for a while."
ohyul blinks, his eyes clearing as if he’s just woken up from a long, confusing dream. he looks up at woonhak, the hollow ache in his chest finally turning into a cold, hard resolve.
"woonhak-ah," ohyul says, his voice steady. "do you have some free time after class today?"
woonhak blinks, looking a bit surprised. "yeah, i'm free. why? do you want to grab coffee or something?"
"actually," ohyul says, a small, genuine smile finally touching his lips. "i need someone to help me move some trash. it's a lot for one person."
woonhak pauses. he looks at ohyul, really looks at him, and he sees it. the way ohyul isn't slumped over anymore. he knows exactly what "trash" ohyul is talking about. it’s the framed photos on the walls, the spare music equipment taking up space in the corner, the dusty figurines on the shelf, and even the second toothbrush sitting in the bathroom cup.
woonhak nods, his own expression softening into something supportive and warm. he realizes that ohyul isn't just cleaning an apartment; he’s finally moving forward.
"i'll bring some extra trash bags," woonhak says.
"thanks," ohyul replies. he picks up his charcoal pencil, his fingers finally steady, and turns back to his canvas to begin a new sketch. he is finally ready to start a new sketch, and this time, it’s on a fresh canvas where there is no ryul in it.