(Dae-hyun's pov)
Woo-jin.
Woo-jin.
Woo-jin.
My mind is filled—no flooded.
I slammed the front door harder than I meant to. The sound echoed through the empty living room, bouncing off the polished floors and high ceilings like a gunshot. The house was too quiet—always too quiet. I preferred it that way usually, preferred silence over conversation, emptiness over warmth. But tonight, the quiet made my skin feel too tight, like something was pressing down on my chest from the inside.
I tossed my keys onto the counter. They skidded, clattered, and fell to the floor. I didn't bother picking them up.
My head was a mess.
That encounter earlier—seeing Woo-jin again, hearing his voice, seeing those damn blue eyes—
No.
I shook my head, hard, like I could physically shove the memory out. I had been doing fine. My life was stable, clean, controlled. I had built walls around myself thick enough that nothing could get in. Even my memories stayed where they were supposed to.
But today… one look at him, and everything cracked.
I shrugged off my coat and walked into the kitchen. My muscles ached, though I couldn't tell if it was from stress or something deeper. I opened the fridge out of habit, stared at the neatly stacked containers, then shut it again. My appetite was gone.
I leaned back against the counter, hands bracing the edges as if holding myself up. My heart was beating too fast. That annoyed me. I hated feeling anything I couldn't control.
I closed my eyes—
And the memory slipped in.
Uninvited.
Sharp.
Cold.
—Wet pavement. Rain pouring so hard it blurred everything. Woo-jin's voice shaking. My hands grabbing him—
My eyes snapped open.
"No."
My own voice sounded distant.
It had been years. I shouldn't remember that night so vividly. But the image pushed forward anyway, unstoppable, like a tide rising inside my head.
I pressed my fingers to my temple, trying to breathe.
But my body remembered before my mind did.
I walked slowly to the living room. My hands were shaking. I hated that. I sat on the couch, leaning forward, elbows on my knees, staring blankly at the floor.
Why now? Why today of all days?
I hadn't thought about that night in… I didn't know how long. I had shoved it down so deep I forgot there had been a time when his voice mattered. When his pain meant something to me.
Rain.
The sound was so loud in my memory I almost heard it now.
I swallowed, my throat dry.
It was late. Past midnight. The streets were nearly empty. I had been walking home from cram school back then, headphones in, the world muffled. And then—just a glimpse of pink hair near the river railing.
At first, I thought I was mistaken. The rain was too heavy. The streetlights were too dim. But something in me recognized him. Even back then… I always noticed him.
I squeezed my eyes shut again.
Not yet, I told myself.
Not yet. I'm not ready to see it.
But the memory was merciless.
My hands curled into fists.
Back then, Woo-jin was quiet. He didn't speak much in class. Everyone knew he had problems at home, but no one cared. Everyone avoided him. But I… I didn't. Why? I still don't know.
Maybe I saw myself in him.
Maybe I just hated seeing someone so breakable.
Maybe something about him made me look twice.
I exhaled, shaky.
I remember the way his shoulders looked in the rain—small, trembling, like he was disappearing under the weight of it all. His fingers were curled around the metal railing. And the river below was black. Endless.
I remember calling his name—once. Soft. But he didn't react. The rain drowned everything.
I stood up abruptly, pacing the living room. My pulse was loud—too loud. The memory wouldn't stop.
I remembered stepping forward.
I remembered the cold water splashing as he leaned further.
I remembered the panic.
Raw. Ugly.
And then—
My hand shot out. Grabbing him. Pulling him back.
He had turned then. Slowly.
And his eyes—
Damn it.
My chest tightened sharply, like something was squeezing the air out of me.
There had been so much pain in them. So much exhaustion. And something else, something that made the back of my throat burn when I think about it—
Relief.
Like he was grateful someone stopped him.
I sat back down heavily, breathing uneven.
Why did my body remember this so clearly when my mind had erased almost everything else?
Why did seeing him today unlock that door?
I pressed my palm over my eyes.
The truth was simple.
Because even if I lost the memories—
My heart didn't.
The rain was relentless, hammering against my coat, soaking me to the bone. My shoes squelched against the wet pavement as I ran, my breaths ragged, lungs burning. Every step felt like I was chasing both time and a memory I had tried so hard to forget.
I searched everywhere.
His workplace.
His favourite cafe.
Legit everywhere.
Until, it hit me.
I heard a whisper in me. What was it? Who said it?
No.
NO.
There he was—small, fragile, trembling at the edge of the railing over the ocean. He was making his way to his grave as he slowly got swallowed by the ocean.
"Woo-jin!" I shouted, my voice cracking. The sound was swallowed by the storm, but I didn't care. I had to reach him. Not again. Not like this.
His hair, soaked pink strands plastered to his forehead, gleamed under the dim streetlights. He didn't turn. Didn't flinch. He just… leaned forward slightly, shoulders quivering, the cold metal railing biting into his palms. My chest constricted. I hated the sight of him like that. Hated the helplessness I felt. I hated the world that made someone so small, so fragile, think death was the only option.
I skidded to a stop, soaked, adrenaline coursing through my veins, and grabbed his arm. "Stop! Don't do this, please! Not again!"
He flinched violently, twisting to look at me. And then I saw it—those turquoise eyes, wide with fear, tears mingling with the rain, the kind of pure despair that had no defense. The kind of despair I would never forget.
"I…you…re-reme—" he choked, his voice barely audible over the storm. "I can't… I can't do this anymore…"
My heart twisted painfully. I knew, even then, that no words could explain the depth of his suffering. But I had to try. I couldn't let him fall. I wouldn't.
I crouched slightly, lowering myself to his level, gripping both his arms this time. "Listen to me. You're not here? Not now. Not ever. Do you hear me? You're not alone, Woo-jin!"
A shiver ran through him, violent and desperate, but he didn't pull away. His body trembled like a leaf in a gale, soaked to the bone, and yet… he let me hold him. He let me anchor him to this world. I didn't care how cold my fingers were, how my coat clung to my body like a second skin. I just held him.
"Why… why would anyone care?" he whispered, voice breaking, raw with hurt. "You never loved me….it was all pity….I… I'm useless. Even—"
I flinched at that, the implication stabbing me in the chest. No. No one had the right to make him feel this way. Not then. Not ever. I swallowed the lump in my throat and pressed closer. "No. Wrong. You're wrong. I care. I—."
He cut me off. " STOP LYING." He took a deep breath as tears escaped yearning for freedom. " I mistook your pity as love. You never loved. I was annoying yet I selfishly stood by your side like a pest. I'll…I…I will never be loved. NEVER. Just a useless actor who acts to receive fake love. If my parents can't love me, then who can? And what worse is that the person who I loved never loved me? I knew it. I KNOW IT. Yet I stood stubbornly and obliviously, not wanting to believe that you never once loved me."
Tears steamed out. "Woo-jin, I actually did-"
"Stop. I don't need those fake words. It's better to say the truth than lie, it just breaks my heart alot." He rubbed his eyes, not wanting to show me any of his tears.
I just couldn't bear this. My heart stinged. I wanted to do something. I wrapped my arms tighter around him from the back. "Woo-jin, I actually did love you. I never lied about loving you."
His head dropped, forehead pressing against my chest. And there it was—the first sound of him breaking completely, letting the storm inside him spill out. Sobs shook his entire frame. My hands tightened around him, holding him like I was holding my own heart together. I won't lose you. I repeated it silently, over and over, like a prayer.
For what felt like hours, we stayed like that. Rain pounding around us and stuck in the middle of the ocean, the city oblivious, the river churning below. I whispered anything that came to mind: words of reassurance, promises I didn't even know I could keep. I won't let you go. Not tonight. Not ever.
Slowly, his trembling eased. Not completely, but enough that I dared to breathe. I lowered my forehead from his hair, looking into his tear-streaked face, seeing that faint, flickering spark—the tiny ember of hope I had been desperate to keep alive.
"You're safe," I said quietly, voice shaking. "You're alive. And I'm not going anywhere. Do you understand? I'm not leaving. Ever."
He nodded slightly, still shivering, still wet, but the fear in his eyes softened into something else. Recognition? Maybe. Trust? Possibly. Relief? Definitely.
And I realized then something I hadn't admitted even to myself before. I had been running from my own feelings for him all these years. Avoiding the fact that I cared—deeply, irrevocably. But seeing him like this, knowing how close he had come to slipping away, made me understand: I could never let him go. Not him. Not ever.
I stayed until the rain slowed, until the storm became a drizzle, until he stopped trembling completely. Only then did I allow myself to take a deep breath, to step back slightly, though my hand remained on his shoulder as if letting go was impossible.
"You hear me?" I whispered again. "Not again. Don't do it again. Not for the 3rd time."
And though he didn't answer, his gaze met mine. For the first time that night, it was steady. Quiet. Alive.
I didn't let go. I couldn't. And I knew, in that moment, that no matter what happened in the future, I would always be there. Always.