003

The apartment smelled like garlic, soy sauce, and burnt rice. Daesung had insisted on cooking, and no one had the heart to tell him that he wasn't actually good at it.

Taeyang sat cross-legged on the floor, scrolling through his phone, a half-finished beer next to him. Daesung hummed in the kitchen, trying to make something that resembled kimchi fried rice but mostly resembled trauma.

I watched them both through a haze — the kind of fog that settles in your head after too many sleepless nights and not enough sunlight. The kind that tastes like release dates and cracked vocal cords and empty studio chairs.

The kind that tastes like missing someone.

KWON JI YONG had dropped the day before.

Not G-Dragon — Ji Yong.

My name. My blood.

I'd wrapped myself in a USB and handed it to the world. The real me. The unbranded me. The one with hair falling into his eyes and hands that shook between takes. The one who cried between verses and didn't bother auto-tuning the pain.

And Seunghyun wasn't here to hear it.

Wasn't here to tell me it was genius. Wasn't here to say, "You're doing great, Jiyongie," in that low voice that made every panic attack feel like an overreaction. Wasn't here to roll his eyes when I doubted myself. Wasn't here.

"This tour's gonna be wild," Taeyang said, breaking the silence. "Tokyo Dome first, right?"

I nodded, but I wasn't really listening.

He kept going. "The staging is insane. That LED waterfall? I almost cried just seeing the test footage. Fans are gonna lose their minds. I think its a bit too rushed tho"

Daesung returned from the kitchen with three chipped bowls and something vaguely edible. "You should do the confession track after the VCR. The one with just your voice. People will go insane."

"I already set it after the interlude," I murmured.

"Oh. Even better." Daesung smiled, placing the bowls on the table. "You've thought of everything."

We ate in silence for a while.

Well, they ate. I stirred my food.

"Hey," Daesung said, nudging my leg. "You're somewhere else."

I looked up.

He tilted his head. "You okay?"

Taeyang didn't look up from his phone.

I hesitated, then nodded — too fast to be convincing.

Daesung gave a little sigh and set his chopsticks down.

"Seunghyun would be really proud of you, you know."

The name hit like a slap. Not cruel. Just loud.

Taeyang looked up, his brow tightening.

"Come on, Dae."

"What?"

"He's not dead."

Daesung's face fell. "I didn't say he was."

"You're talking like it."

"I'm talking like Ji Yong misses him."

Taeyang scoffed. "We all miss him."

"No, you don't get it. You have Hyo Rin. You go home to someone."

"I could survive without her," Taeyang said calmly.

Daesung snorted. "For what, a week? Come on, man."

Taeyang narrowed his eyes. "You think love makes people useless?"

"I think you don't understand what it's like to go to bed every night wishing someone was beside you, but not being able to say it. You don't get that kind of silence."

"Neither do you," Taeyang snapped.

They were both talking over each other now. Arguing not to win, but to explain.

And me?

I got up.

Didn't say a word. Didn't look back.

Just walked into my room and shut the door.

Inside, the silence swallowed me whole.

I sat on the floor, back against the bed, knees up. The window was cracked open, and Seoul's summer heat bled in.

The USB with my name on it sat on the desk. Not "Heartbreaker." Not "One of a Kind." Me.

I should've felt proud. Should've felt strong.

Instead, I felt like a child left at a party too long after everyone else had gone home.

I curled my arms around my knees. Pressed my face into the fabric of my shirt.

Outside, Daesung and Taeyang had stopped yelling.

The silence between them was thicker now. Apology-shaped.

Maybe they were waiting for me to come out. Maybe they were pretending I hadn't gone in.

Or maybe they were just giving me space.

Either way, I sat in that room and thought about Seunghyun. About his voice. His laugh. The way he always knew when I was faking it.

I wished he was there. Not to fix anything.

Just to say—

"You're doing great, Jiyongie."

And mean it.

Because when he said it, I believed it.

I didn't sleep.

Not really.

I dozed off for a bit on the floor, face pressed against the side of the bed, still wearing yesterday's hoodie and the weight of too many things unsaid.

Outside the window, Seoul was already wide awake. Birds screaming. Cars angry. Summer was cruel like that — everything hot and loud and alive, even when you weren't ready for it.

I sat up slowly, my back stiff. My phone had a dozen unread messages from staff, the tour coordinator, a Japanese stylist who apparently needed my shoe size again. I didn't open any of them.

My throat felt dry. My head heavy.

I stepped out into the apartment.

Daesung was gone. Probably had an early schedule. The rice cooker was still on. There was a sticky note on the fridge in his handwriting:

"Left the rest for you, hyung. Eat something, please. You did good."

I smiled, barely.

Then I saw Taeyang, sitting at the table, elbows resting on it, hands clasped together. His eyes flicked up the second he heard my steps.

Neither of us said anything at first.

I grabbed a glass. Poured water. Drank too fast and coughed a little.

Still no words.

Until—

"Hey."

His voice was low, careful.

I looked at him. Said nothing.

He sighed and leaned back in the chair.

"I was out of line yesterday."

I stayed still.

"I know I don't get it. Not the way you do. And Dae is right — I have Hyo Rin. I get to come home to her. I get that kind of... security."

I leaned against the counter, arms crossed. He wasn't making excuses. That was something.

"You lost your person for a while. Even if it's not forever, it's now. And that's enough to hurt."

He looked at me. Really looked.

"And it's okay that it hurts, JiYong."

That's when I realized my eyes were wet again. God, I was tired of crying like this.

I shook my head, half-laughing, half-drowning in it.

"I just... I just wish I could tell him."

"Tell him what?"

"Everything."

Taeyang stood up. Walked over. He didn't try to hug me — he knew better. He just stood close enough to make it feel less like I was alone in a room full of shadows.

"He's not gone," he said softly. "He's gonna come back. You'll tell him then."

I stared at the floor.

"What if I can't?"

"Then write it." "Sing it. Shout it. Whatever you need to do. Just don't carry it all by yourself."

I wiped my sleeve across my face. Nodded slowly.

He squeezed my shoulder gently.

"You don't have to be okay right now. You just have to keep going."

Later, he left. I reheated the leftovers. Ate in silence.

I didn't feel better.

But I didn't feel alone.

We are gonna be seeing Seunghyuns POV sooon, im so scared and exited for it omg

Im sorry for such a depresing start for a fanfic haha Im feeling kinda low myself

Dont forget to vote and leave a comment for mooooore !!