Boxes clutter the living room floor, half-opened and spilling clothes, photo frames, tangled charging cords, and random little pieces of their lives that now have to fit together. Ren stands over a stack of labeled containers, hands on his hips, squinting at the layout of the apartment like he's about to conduct a military operation.
"Okay, so—your desk goes here," he says, tapping the wall. "And the couch should angle like this, and the bookshelf definitely has to stay against the far wall. Also we're using my plates because yours don't match with any—"
"Ren," Kai mutters quietly from across the room.
Ren doesn't hear him. He's too busy pulling out another sheet of paper covered in scribbles — sketches of furniture positions, color palettes, and tiny notes about light angles and traffic flow.
"Also, the closet organization system has to be sorted exactly like this because if it isn't, we'll lose track of what we're wearing and—"
"Ren."
Kai's voice is louder this time. Still calm… but sharp around the edges.
Ren freezes mid-sentence. "What?"
Kai lowers the box he's holding and wipes his forehead with the back of his hand. He looks tired. Not physically — emotionally. Like something has been building and now he can't hold it in anymore.
"Why are you planning everything alone?" he asks softly.
Ren blinks, confused. "I'm not— I mean, I'm just trying to make everything go smoother. Someone has to take charge or the place will look like a disaster. I'm not controlling anything, I'm just—"
"You're deciding everything," Kai interrupts. "Every detail. Every choice. Without asking me once."
Ren's shoulders stiffen. "I have asked you! I literally asked you about the couch—"
"You told me which one we were getting."
Ren opens his mouth, but no excuse forms.
Kai takes a slow breath. "This was supposed to be ours. Our space. Our home. But you're treating it like it belongs to you and I'm just visiting."
Ren's pulse spikes. The words sting hard. "That's not fair. I'm trying to make this work—"
"By controlling everything?" Kai steps closer. "Ren, I love you more than anything, but you're not listening. You haven't listened once since we started packing."
Ren's voice rises without him meaning to. "Because if I don't handle it, everything will fall apart!"
"That's not true," Kai fires back. He throws his hands out. "You think I'm useless? That I can't make a single decision about the place we both live in?"
Ren's chest twists. "I never said that."
"You didn't have to."
The silence that follows is thick and volatile, like the air before a storm cracks open. Ren can feel the argument spiraling, losing its original shape, turning into something rawer.
"This is OUR home!" Kai suddenly shouts, emotion breaking through his voice. "Not your project. Not your responsibility alone. Ours."
Ren flinches. The words cut straight to the heart because they're true — painfully true. He has been doing everything himself, out of fear of messing things up, out of fear that if he doesn't manage everything perfectly, something will collapse.
Kai steps forward, the tension in his jaw clear, and Ren accidentally blocks his way. Just a few inches too close. And in that heated second, Kai reacts on instinct.
He grabs Ren by the wrist, pushes him gently — but firmly — back against the wall.
Ren's breath catches. Not from pain. From shock.
Kai immediately freezes, realization flashing in his eyes. He steps back, chest rising and falling rapidly. "I…I shouldn't have done that."
Ren's voice comes out small. "No. I started this. I'm making everything harder."
Kai shakes his head, frustrated with himself. "I'm angry, but I would never want to make you feel scared or cornered. I'm going to cool off before I say something I can't take back."
Ren reaches out, but Kai steps away.
"I just need space. Ten minutes. Maybe twenty." His voice cracks. "Please."
He grabs his coat, slides on his shoes, and walks out the door without slamming it — which somehow hurts even more.
Ren is left standing in the middle of their half-finished apartment, chest tight, hands shaking, mind replaying the argument in loops. The air feels colder now, emptier, like the whole room lost its warmth when Kai walked out.
He presses a hand to his eyes.
He hadn't meant to take over everything.
He just wanted their life together to be perfect.
But maybe he had forgotten that perfection is something built together, not alone.
And now he has to figure out how to fix that.