Chapter Text
Han Taesan looked like the kind of person people warned each other about and still went home with anyway.
It was annoying, honestly, how well he knew it.
The private lounge upstairs was dim enough to forgive bad decisions. Blue light from the club below kept flashing through the glass railing, cutting across his face every few seconds, catching the silver hidden under the black layers of his hair. He sat half-sprawled in the corner booth, one arm over the backrest, legs stretched out like the table belonged to him and everyone else was borrowing space.
A girl was sitting too close to his right.
Another was leaning over the back of the booth, fingers playing with the ends of his hair like she had permission.
Taesan didn’t stop her.
He also didn’t look at her.
“Did you block me?”
Taesan glanced up from his phone. “Did I?”
“You know you did.”
“Then why ask?”
The girl beside him laughed, sharp and disbelieving, but she still didn’t move away. “You’re actually so rude.”
Taesan locked his phone and tossed it on the table. “You came to sit next to me.”
“That doesn’t mean you get to be rude.”
“Does it?” Taesan replied lazily.
Across from him, Minjae rubbed both hands over his face. “Bro, one day someone’s going to pour a drink on you.”
“They won’t.”
Taesan reached for the glass in front of him, took one slow sip, then set it back down.
“They like the idea too much.”
The girl behind him went quiet for half a second.
Then she laughed again, softer this time, like he’d said something mean but true enough that arguing would make her look stupid.
“You always do that,” she said.
Taesan finally tilted his head back to look at her. “Do what?”
“Say things like you don’t care.”
“I don’t.”
“That’s the annoying part. I think you do.”
Minjae made a noise. “Don’t start. Girls always think they can find the hidden soft side and then cry when there isn’t one.”
Taesan pointed at him lazily. “Listen to him. He’s been disappointed by me longer.”
The girl behind him smiled, but her fingers stopped touching his hair.
Good.
He hated when people started looking for something under the surface. As if he was hiding a wounded heart behind expensive clothes and bad habits. As if neglect automatically made a person tender.
The girl beside him leaned closer anyway, knees brushing his. “So what, you just never stay?”
Taesan looked at her. Pretty. Glossy lips. Big eyes. Already imagining a version of him that didn’t exist.
“I stay until I want to leave.”
She leaned in again, not backing down. “I could be the one who changes that,” she said, her tone half daring, half hopeful. Taesan’s gaze flickered toward her, but his expression didn’t soften. Instead, he gave a quiet, almost amused exhale. “Enjoy what’s in front of you while it lasts. Don’t ruin it by expecting something else.” His voice was calm, detached—like he’d lived this conversation too many times before.
her fingers absentmindedly reaching toward his hair. Taesan’s hand caught her wrist in one fluid motion, his grip firm, eyes darkening instantly. “Don’t,” he said, the word cold and final. Minjae, sensing the mood collapse, leaned in with a nervous laugh. “Hey, hey, one thing about Taesan—touching his hair? Huge no,” he tried, hoping to ease the tension. But Taesan was already standing, jaw tight. “I’m done here,” he muttered, pulling away from Minjae’s grasp as his friend called out, “Come on, buddy, don’t storm off!” But Taesan was already walking out, leaving the noise—and everyone—behind.
As Taesan turned to leave the bar, his chest was still tight from the earlier confrontation, thoughts spiraling beneath his calm exterior. But just as he neared the exit, someone stepped in front of him. The look in the guy’s eyes was unmistakable—he wanted trouble.
“Think you’re just gonna walk away after that?” the guy spat.
Taesan barely blinked, his voice cold. “You don’t want this.”
But the guy lunged. Taesan sidestepped, shoving him back sharply, enough to make him stumble. Before anything else could escalate, security was already between them, separating them.
Taesan didn’t look back, but his hand shook slightly as he adjusted his collar. He walked out, but the anger wasn’t gone—it had just settled deeper, waiting for when he was finally alone.