(no) Strings Attached

You Are Enough

He looked... untouched.

Not in a good way.

Still in the same crisp button-up. Sleeves rolled but not creased. Jaw tense. Spine a ruler's edge of posture.

Even now, alone, he didn't let himself bend.
Hongjoong's frown was immediate, but he bit it back.

Instead, he let his eyes wander — catching the way the room was bathed in a tired sort of amber light, laptop glowing faintly in the background, textbook pages fluttering from the small fan in the corner.

No music. No scent of food. Just sterile silence and overwork.

"Hey," Hongjoong said, breathless not from the run, but from the weight of what he was about to do.

Seonghwa's brows lifted, just slightly. "Hey. What—"

Hongjoong raised the bag wordlessly.

Food. Warm. Fresh.

A peace offering. A silent I know.

But Seonghwa's shoulders stiffened almost immediately. His lips pressed into a thin line.
"You didn't have to—"

"It's fine." Hongjoong's voice cracked just a little.

Seonghwa shook his head once. "I'm not hungry."

Hongjoong's grip tightened on the bag. Not angry. Just... afraid. "It's almost nine."

A pause.

That landed.

The tiniest flicker in Seonghwa's eyes. A heartbeat skipped.

Hongjoong stepped closer, voice quieter now.
"You don't have to eat all of it. Or any of it. I just... I didn't want you to sit in here like this. Alone."

Another beat. Still silence.

Then Seonghwa looked away, jaw tightening like he was swallowing the lump in his throat.

"I'm fine."

"You don't have to be," Hongjoong whispered. "Not with me."

That broke something. Not loudly. But just enough.

Seonghwa stepped aside, finally letting him in.

Seonghwa didn't move towards the food. Just hovered near the edge of his desk like it might anchor him.

"I have already eaten." He murmured, voice just above a whisper.

Hongjoong narrowed his eyes. "When did you eat?"

A beat. Too long.

Seonghwa cleared his throat, gaze flicking toward the corner of the room. "Before I came back."

"Where?"

Another pause. Then, "The convenience store."

"Which one?" Hongjoong asked, voice sharper now, slicing through the false calm between them.

Seonghwa blinked. "Why does that matter?"

"It does if you're lying."

Seonghwa finally looked at him then — not defensive, not angry. Just... still. Like a deer caught in headlights. Like someone who didn't realize they'd been seen bleeding.

Hongjoong sighed and took a step closer, placing the food bag on the desk with more force than necessary.

"You didn't eat."

Seonghwa looked down again. Silent. And that silence made something in Hongjoong's chest snap.

"Why do you do this?" His voice cracked with something deeper than anger — desperation, maybe. "Why do you keep pretending you're okay when you're clearly not? Why can't you just—just let someone help?"