(no) Strings Attached

Soft Crash

"He's kind. Not disposable." He glared—as politely as possible— before he looked over at Seonghwa with a genuine smile.

"We'll be heading out." His eyes created fake and intimidating crescents directing them to the professor, whose mouth was slightly ajar.

They walk in silence.

The library fades behind them, and yet it feels like Seonghwa's spine stayed glued to that chair—bent and obedient. His legs move, but barely. Just enough to keep up. Not enough to feel real.

He hasn't said a word

Hasn't looked up once.

The food bag in his hand feels like it burns.
Hongjoong doesn't speak either.

He leads. Keeps a steady pace. Not too fast, not too slow. Just enough to say: I'm here. I see you. I'm not rushing you to speak—but I won't let you vanish either.

The dorm is cold when they step inside. Quiet. The air wraps around them like judgment. It smells faintly of old paper and worn-out clothes.

Seonghwa finally looks up. Not at Hongjoong—at the clock.

8:53 p.m.

Too late.

Too damn late.

He sets the food bag on his desk like it's going to scream at him. Doesn't open it. Doesn't even sit.

Just... stands there.

Hongjoong shuts the door quietly behind him. Leans against it. Watches. Not like a hawk. Like someone who's trying really hard not to touch a bruise.

"Why didn't you text me?" he asks eventually.
It's quiet. Too quiet. Seonghwa flinches like he's been struck.

"I was—" His voice cracks. He clears it. "—busy."

"With what? Saving the world?"

A pause. No answer.

Hongjoong sighs. Steps forward. Gently. Like he's approaching a wild thing that might bite if spooked.

"You scared me, Hwa."

He says it so softly that it hurts more than if he'd screamed. And that—somehow—is what finally breaks Seonghwa.

Not tears. Not rage. Just... collapse.

His knees fold. He sits on the edge of the bed, head in his hands.

"I didn't mean to," he says, barely audible.

"I know."

"I didn't mean to make you worry. I didn't mean to work that late. I just—he said he needed it, and I thought—" He stops himself. Breathes too fast. "—I thought maybe if I just finish everything today, I can rest tomorrow. Just tomorrow. Just once."

"You think you need permission to rest?"

Seonghwa flinches again. Like the words are barbed.

But he doesn't answer.

Hongjoong moves across the room. Picks up the paper bag. Sits beside him. Doesn't force the food into his hands, just opens it slowly.

"You didn't even touch the protein bar."

"I forgot it was there."

"No, you didn't."

Silence.

Hongjoong looks at him—really looks. At the hollowness under his eyes. The way his cheekbones sit like glass under skin. The way his fingers fidget like they've been rewired to beg for approval.