❥ || chapter nineteen

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ♡ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Sunghoon found me in the stairwell, sitting on the bottom step with my head pressed against the cool concrete wall, trying not to cry.

I hadn't meant to be found. I'd slipped away from the floor under the excuse of "checking an archive file," but really, I'd just needed to breathe. To not be watched. To not feel the weight of everyone's stares. To get away from the guilt building up in my chest until I swore it was going to split me open.

Heeseung was still in the hospital.

Minchae's warning still echoed in my chest.

And the script page,"New sequence pending." felt like it was stitched into the back of my eyelids. A message from something I couldn't name, reminding me I'd only delayed the inevitable. Not stopped it.

I didn't look up when I heard the door creak.

"I thought you might be here," Sunghoon said gently.

Of course he had. Somehow, he always knew. Maybe in some part of the story, he always would.

He sat beside me without a word, knees brushing mine. His shoulder bumped my arm just enough to remind me I wasn't alone. I leaned into the warmth instinctively, hating how quickly I wanted to fall apart.

I inhaled shakily. "You should be mad at me."

"Why?"

"I ruined the festival. I acted like a maniac. And Heeseung-"

"You didn't ruin anything," he said quietly, tugging at my sleeve until I looked at him. "And what happened to Heeseung wasn't your fault."

I didn't answer. Not because I disagreed, because I couldn't explain the truth. I didn't have words strong enough to fight fate.

Sunghoon looked at me like he already knew I was lying to myself. "You've been different lately."

I flinched.

"Not in a bad way," he added. "Just... like something's eating at you."

It was. The story was circling again. And I was running out of ways to outmaneuver it. My hands were shaking.

"I don't know how to say it," I whispered.

"Say it badly," he said. "I don't care."

I glanced at him, heart aching. "Yesterday... it should've been you."

He blinked. "What?"

"I had this feeling. I was so sure something terrible was going to happen. That you were going to..." My voice cracked. "I thought if I kept you close, I could stop it."

Instead, Heeseung was the one who bled.

Sunghoon was quiet for a moment. Then he reached over and took my hand, warm and solid.

"You're not crazy," he said gently.

"I know I sound like it."

"You don't." He hesitated. "You sound scared."

I turned to him. "I am."

The silence between us deepened, stretching into something raw.

"I don't want you to die," I said, barely above a whisper.

His thumb brushed my hand. "You're not going to lose me."

"You can't promise that."

"I know," he murmured. "But I want to try."

And somehow, that mattered more.

We sat there for a while, listening to the hum of footsteps above, the distant clatter of office doors. I felt the world still turning and hated it for moving so fast.

Then Sunghoon stood, holding out a hand. "Come with me."

I blinked. "Where?"

"I want to show you something."

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ♡ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

We took a cab to a quieter part of the city, the kind of neighbourhood where laundry still hung from balconies and the buildings leaned in close like they were sharing secrets. The ride was silent except for the occasional turn signal and the beat of my own pulse.

Sunghoon led me down a narrow street and stopped in front of a weathered brick storefront tucked between a dusty tailor shop and a shuttered bookstore. The windows were fogged over. A faint outline of a painted name had long since faded from the glass.

"I told you about the café, remember?" he said. "The dream."

I nodded slowly.

"This is where it starts."

He pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the door. The space inside was small. One wide room with sunlit hardwood floors and high ceilings that probably leaked when it rained. A little bar counter stood crooked in the corner. There was nothing here, and somehow, everything.

He flicked on a single hanging bulb overhead. It buzzed once, then glowed.

"I signed the lease last month," he said, voice low but proud. "It's a long way from ready, but... it's mine."

I turned in place, taking it all in. The quiet, the light, the dust hanging in the air like confetti. "It's perfect."

He smiled at the floor. "I figured I'd show you now, before it's a mess of coffee bags and tangled extension cords."

I laughed, soft and watery. "This is the opposite of a mess."

Sunghoon walked to the window and pulled aside the sheer curtain. The light hit his profile, golden and still.

"I know this probably seems stupid," he said. "Doing this while everything else is falling apart."

"It's not stupid."

"I needed something real. Something mine. Something that meant I had a future to look forward to. And I wanted you to see it, because..." He trailed off, then looked at me. "Because I don't want to build it alone."

I stared at him.

Because that wasn't a metaphor.

It wasn't a poetic gesture.

It was Sunghoon, standing in the middle of his dream, quietly offering me a place in it.

My chest tightened.

This world, the one I'd woken up inside, the one trying to snap back into the shape of a tragedy, was full of traps and turning points. But this space felt different. It felt untouched.

Like it didn't belong to the story.

Like it belonged to Sunghoon.

"I don't know what you're carrying," he said, stepping closer, "but I can see it's heavy. And I don't want you to carry it alone."

Tears welled in my eyes before I could stop them. I didn't deserve this. Not when I couldn't promise him anything. Not even safety.

Sunghoon's hand cupped my cheek, his thumb catching a tear.

"I know something's going on," he said gently. "Even if you won't tell me. And I know it scares you. But whatever it is... I'm still here."

I closed my eyes. Just for a second. Just to remember what this felt like, hope that didn't hurt.

Because this wasn't a man ready to die.

This was a man planning to live.

And for the first time, I wondered if that meant I could live, too.

Even if the story didn't want me to.

Even if it tried to take him again.

For now, I let myself lean into him, into the warmth, into the dust speckled light, into the dream that smelled like old wood and cinnamon and something I couldn't name.

He didn't rush me. He didn't speak again. He just held me as the light shifted across the floor and the quiet grew thick with something tender.

Eventually, he pulled away just enough to whisper, "You'll help me pick out the name, won't you?"

I smiled through tears. "Only if I get free coffee for life."

He grinned. "Deal."

And just like that, I felt a thread pull tight between us. Something stronger than fear, deeper than fate.

Tomorrow could come later.

For now, I just needed this.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ♡ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

vote ᰔ comment ᰔ follow