Running to You | Park Han + JL + Steven | Haneulz + Stejay AU

Chapter 72: The Ones Who Kissed

Han had watched him. Had wanted to reach over. Had wanted to brush the hair from his face.

Had wanted to stay like that forever.

And he never said a word.

Because how do you tell someone they feel like gravity?

How do you admit that your entire life tilted the moment they walked in the room?

Han stared at the door for a long time.

Then whispered, to the quiet:

"There's no version of this where I stop loving you."

Not even if JL never comes back.

Not even if he chooses Steven.

Not even if it wrecks him.

* * *

The villa was quiet by the time Steven came up the stairs. Moonlight pooled in squares across the polished floors, and laughter from the common area was long gone -- like a radio someone had turned off mid-song.

He passed by Woongki's room. Music hummed softly behind a door.

He passed the kitchen. Someone had left a glass of half-melted ice water on the counter.

And then -- he saw it.

The door to Han's room, still half open.

A shadow inside.

And Han.

Kneeling by the bed, both hands cradling JL's leg with a tenderness that stopped Steven cold.

He didn't mean to spy.

But he didn't move, either.

There was something in the room. Something too fragile to interrupt.

JL was sitting on the bed, hoodie askew, hair damp. He looked half-undressed and undone, like the night had scraped its fingerprints across him.

Han wasn't speaking.

Just kneeling.

Just... looking.

His face -- God. Steven had never seen fear on Han's face like that. Not even in the middle of grueling meets. Not even during a fight.

But now? He looked like he'd been hit.

Like JL's pain was his own.

Like he would've taken it without question, just to keep JL from wincing again.

And JL -- quiet, still, soft as always -- was looking back at him like Han was the last person on earth he trusted.

Steven turned away.

Silently. Carefully. Like he hadn't seen a damn thing.

But he had.

And it cracked something open inside him.

Steven leaned against the cold marble counter, fingers tight around a bottle of water he hadn't even opened.

He didn't cry.

Didn't rage.

Didn't say a word.

He just stood there, breathing slowly through the knot that had formed in his chest.

Of course Han had rushed to JL's side.

Of course Han had carried him -- like he weighed nothing, like the world was on fire and only JL mattered.

Of course Han looked at him like that.

Because Han had always loved JL.

And Steven... had always known.

He opened the water.

Took a sip.

Stared at the sink.

He'd seen it. The way Han's voice dropped when talking to JL. The way he lit up when JL entered a room. The way he only ever truly lost his cool around JL.

The signs had always been there.

Hell -- even he loved JL. Of course Han did.

But it didn't make it hurt less.

Steven was beautiful, talented, adored. He knew that.

But Han and JL were... written.

The kind of love that smoldered in silence for years. That burned in the spaces between glances. That lived in shared victories and unspoken devotions.

He didn't go to JL's room that night.

Didn't knock.

Didn't check on him.

Because he knew Han was already there.

And that's what scared him the most.

And no matter how much Steven loved JL...

He couldn't unsee the way Han looked at him.

Or the way JL looked back.