❥ || chapter fifteen

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If the story was beginning to bleed, then the wounds were deeper than I thought.

Things didn't go back to normal after Minchae's confession. Not that they had ever really been normal, but something had shifted. Like the world had tilted just slightly, and everyone was compensating for the imbalance without knowing why. Even laughter at the office felt forced, like actors fumbling through an unscripted scene, searching for cues that were no longer there.

Sunghoon was quieter that week. Not distant, exactly. Just watchful. I could feel his eyes on me when he thought I wasn't looking. I could tell he wanted to ask about the weight behind my smiles, the long silences I slipped into during lunch, the way I flinched whenever I passed the desk where I'd hidden the page of the rewritten script. But he didn't ask. Not yet. He just lingered near, like a shadow of a question I didn't want to answer.

And then there was Heeseung.

He'd been keeping his distance ever since our tense conversation in the hallway. At first I welcomed it, the space, the quiet. But then something started to change. Subtle at first. A hesitation in his steps, the way his gaze would hover just a little too long when we crossed paths.

He wasn't cold anymore.

He was... unsure. Hesitant. Like he didn't know how to talk to me but still desperately wanted to. His glances grew longer. He started showing up at my desk with questions he already knew the answers to. And one morning, when I spilled coffee all over my notes, he helped me clean it up, his fingers brushing mine for just a second too long.

He began lingering near my cubicle at the end of the day, offering rides I never accepted. He brought me my favourite snack from the vending machine without asking, then pretended it was a coincidence. He mentioned old memories, small things I'd said months ago, things I'd forgotten but he clearly hadn't. Each moment was a breadcrumb, a careful attempt to lead me somewhere he wasn't sure I wanted to go.

There were other signs too. He laughed at my bad jokes, even the ones that landed awkwardly. He waited at the elevator when I was still gathering my things. He started sharing more about himself, bits and pieces of his past, his hometown, his mother's infamous burnt casseroles, the way he used to sneak out as a teen to look at stars because it made him feel like something bigger was out there.

I knew what was coming.

And I didn't know how to stop it.

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It was a Friday when it happened.

We were the last two in the office. Sunghoon had left early for an on site shoot, and Minchae had ducked out under the excuse of a sudden headache. I didn't buy it, not for a second. She'd been watching Heeseung all day, subtle and calculating, like she could sense something was about to shift.

I stayed behind to finish reports I couldn't focus on. The words blurred together. Numbers meant nothing. The script page still burned a hole in the back of my mind, and now Minchae's confession was folded neatly beside it. Like little red flags warning me that the end was no longer just approaching, it was evolving.

And then Heeseung appeared.

He leaned against the doorframe to the break room, arms crossed, trying to look casual. But his jaw was too tight. His eyes too focused.

"Hey," he said.

I turned slowly. "Hey."

He waited. Then, like he couldn't take the silence anymore: "Can we talk?"

I nodded, wary. "Sure."

He stepped inside, the door swinging shut behind him. "I've been thinking a lot. About you. About us."

My stomach turned.

"I know things have been weird lately," he continued. "And I've been distant, and cold, and probably more of an ass than I meant to be. But I can't stop thinking about you. About the way things used to feel, before all this."

"Heeseung..."

"Just let me finish," he said, almost pleading. "I don't know what's happening with you and Sunghoon. I see the way you look at him. I see how he makes you laugh. But I need you to know that I... that I still feel something for you. That maybe I always have."

He stepped closer.

"Eunseo, I think I'm in love with you."

It didn't feel like a bombshell.

It felt like something inevitable. Like a dam breaking under pressure you pretended not to notice.

I took a breath. "Heeseung... you don't mean that."

His brow furrowed. "What?"

"You think you do. But... I don't think you're in love with me. I think maybe you're clinging to something, someone, that felt safe when everything else changed."

He shook his head. "That's not fair. This isn't just nostalgia or timing. This is real."

"I believe you believe it," I said softly. "And that means something. But I can't give you what you want. Not when my heart is somewhere else."

He looked at me, really looked, at the way my eyes welled with something heavy and conflicted. "And that somewhere else is Sunghoon?"

I hesitated. Then nodded.

"I know," I whispered. "That's why this hurts so much."

For a second, the silence between us stretched into something unbearable. I could hear the hum of the vending machine behind him, the distant sound of traffic several stories down. The world felt too full, too loud.

"I'm not asking you to love me back," he said finally, voice breaking. "I just needed you to know."

"I do," I said, barely audible. "And I won't forget it."

"I've never said this to anyone before," he murmured. "It was always easy to pretend I didn't care. But with you, I couldn't pretend."

I looked at him then, really took him in. The way his posture wilted, the vulnerability radiating off him like static. This wasn't the version of Heeseung I'd first met. This wasn't the aloof, charming second lead. This was someone real. Someone raw.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I wish I could say something different. I wish this didn't hurt you."

He didn't speak. Just stared at the floor, hands clenched at his sides.

"Please don't hate me."

He looked up slowly. And what I saw in his eyes wasn't hate.

It was heartbreak.

Then he turned and walked out.

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I didn't follow.

Because I knew what that would lead to.

Heeseung had always been the first love. The one you lose. The one who shapes you, scars you, but doesn't stay. And in some cruel way, he was finally becoming that person.

Only now, he knew it.

And that broke something in both of us.

When the door clicked shut behind him, I stayed there alone in the break room, staring down at my trembling hands. It wasn't just Heeseung's pain that shook me, it was the growing fear that no matter what choices we made, the world was still tightening its grip.

He had tried to reach for something real.

And now he'd been hurt for it.

How many more would suffer before the ending came?

And when it did, what version of us would even remain?

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a/n: ...bro really got rejected in two universes LMFAO im dying 😭

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