NO-ONE ~YEONGYU FF

THE DISTANCE

Ch-15
★

..

The first time Yeonjun saw Beomgyu walking side by side with Taehyun after leaving the hospital, it felt like a knife slid into his ribs.

It was a cool autumn afternoon, the streets lined with fallen amber leaves. Beomgyu was walking slower than usual, his steps careful, still regaining strength. Taehyun stayed beside him, carrying his bag, occasionally steadying him when he wobbled. Their laughter drifted through the air, soft, fragile, healing.

Yeonjun stood hidden across the street, his hood pulled up. Therapy had taught him not to follow, not to watch, not to feed the hunger gnawing inside his chest. But he couldn't stop himself. His eyes found Beomgyu the way the tide finds the shore, inevitable, unyielding.

The sight carved him open.

Beomgyu's smile, so rare in the hospital, so faint when directed at Yeonjun, was brighter now. And it wasn't for him.

.....

That night, Yeonjun sat alone in his apartment. The silence was suffocating, pressing against his chest. He stared at his phone screen, at Beomgyu's number. His thumb hovered over the call button for what felt like hours, but he never pressed it.

Instead, he opened his notebook, the one his therapist had suggested he keep. The pen shook in his hand as he wrote-

"Today I saw him smile. It wasn't for me. But maybe that means he's healing. Maybe that means I did the right thing. So why does it feel like I'm dying?"

Tears blurred the ink. He shut the notebook quickly, ashamed of his own weakness.

...

Days turned into weeks. Beomgyu spent more and more time with Taehyun. Coffee shops, parks, long evening walks. Yeonjun saw fragments of it, sometimes by accident, sometimes because his feet betrayed him, carrying him to places he shouldn't go.

Taehyun's presence gnawed at him. Every time he saw Taehyun's hand brush Beomgyu's arm or Beomgyu laugh softly at something he said, jealousy coiled in Yeonjun's chest like a venomous snake.

But he remembered his therapist's words.
Love is not possession. Love is allowing choice.

So instead of acting, Yeonjun clenched his fists in his pockets and turned away. Over and over again.

.....

One evening, Beomgyu visited Yeonjun for the first time since leaving the hospital.

He stepped into the apartment with hesitance, like crossing a threshold into a memory he wasn't ready to face. The air still smelled faintly of him, his favorite candle, the soft vanilla one Yeonjun refused to burn anymore because he didn't want to erase the scent.

"You haven't changed a thing," Beomgyu said softly, his eyes scanning the familiar walls.

Yeonjun's voice was rough. "I couldn't. It… felt wrong."

An awkward silence hung between them. Beomgyu sat on the couch, and Yeonjun took the chair across from him, deliberately keeping space.

"How's therapy?" Beomgyu asked finally.

Yeonjun's throat tightened. "Hard. But… necessary. I'm learning."

Beomgyu nodded, his fingers twisting in his lap. "And… Taehyun has been helping me too. Keeping me grounded."

The name was like acid in Yeonjun's veins. But he swallowed it down. He forced a small smile. "I'm glad. You deserve that."

Beomgyu's gaze lingered on him for a moment, as if searching for the lie. But there was none. Yeonjun meant it, even if it broke him.

Then, softly, Beomgyu asked, "Do you still… love me?"

Yeonjun's breath caught. His heart screamed the answer, louder than any storm. But his voice trembled as he whispered, "More than anything. But it doesn't matter if it hurts you."

Beomgyu's eyes flickered, unreadable. For a brief second, Yeonjun thought he saw the faintest glimmer of the old warmth there. But then it vanished, replaced with guarded silence.

.....

That night, after Beomgyu left, Yeonjun sat by the window with his notebook again.

"He asked if I still love him. I told him yes. I didn't beg. I didn't hold him. I let him walk away. I think that's love. But why does it feel like letting go of air, like I'll never breathe again?"

His tears fell on the page, soaking the words until the ink bled.

....

Weeks later, Beomgyu and Taehyun were spotted together more often, and whispers spread. Rumors that they were dating, that Taehyun was now the one holding Beomgyu's heart.

Yeonjun heard it all, and each word dug deeper. But he didn't lash out. Didn't stalk. Didn't fight.

Instead, he went to therapy, again and again, spilling every ounce of his jealousy and pain.

One evening, after a particularly difficult session, his therapist asked gently, "If he chooses Taehyun forever, what will you do?"

Yeonjun's hands trembled in his lap. His chest constricted, but he lifted his head, eyes shining with tears.

"I'll let him go. Because I'd rather be no one in his life than the monster I was before."

And for the first time, the therapist smiled at him.

"You're starting to understand."

---

But in the solitude of his apartment, Yeonjun pressed his forehead to the cold glass of the window, whispering into the night sky:

"Be happy, Beomgyu. Even if it kills me."

And in the distance, somewhere under the same stars, Beomgyu lay awake near Taehyun, staring at the ceiling, his heart restless. Because no matter how much he tried, the ghost of Yeonjun's love wouldn't leave him.

....

"I see you smiling in someone else's arms,
But the echo of your laughter still belongs to me.
Even if I vanish from your world,
My heart will always haunt you."