Màu nền Màu tối Mặc định Xám nhạt Xanh nhạt Xanh đậm Vàng nhạt Màu sepia Vàng đậm Vàng ố

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The silence in Felix's apartment felt heavier than it ever had before. The walls, once filled with the energy of art and music, now stood still, as if holding their breath, waiting for something—or someone—to return. The only sound that broke the stillness was the faint tapping of Felix's keyboard as he typed away at his novel, capturing the essence of the connection he and Hyunjin had shared. But even as his fingers danced across the keys, his mind often drifted back to those moments they had shared—the small, quiet memories that still lingered, haunting him like a distant melody.

Felix had spent hours the previous night, after finishing his latest chapter, scrolling through his phone. His thumb hovered over the screen, uncertain of what he was looking for, until it landed on a thread of messages that had once brought him so much joy.

The messages were from months ago, back when things were simple, before the weight of the world had started to press down on them both. They had been filled with laughter, inside jokes, and tiny moments of vulnerability that had made Felix's heart flutter. He hadn't realized how much he missed it—the ease of their connection, the way they could communicate with just a glance or a word. The way Hyunjin had made him feel like he wasn't alone in this chaotic, unpredictable world.

He scrolled through the messages slowly, his chest tightening with each one. There were texts from their late-night conversations, where they'd discuss everything and nothing at once. There were photos, too—selfies taken in art galleries, candid shots of them sitting together in cafés, eyes bright and carefree. He had saved every single one of them. Felix wondered if Hyunjin ever thought about those moments, or if, like the music, they had faded away for him, replaced by the pressure and the chaos of his family's demands.

Felix stopped on one particular text. It was a message from Hyunjin, sent just before everything started to change.

"You make the world seem a little less scary, Felix. I don't know what I would do without you."

The words felt like a distant echo now. Felix's finger lingered over the message as if he could pull some kind of meaning from it. What had happened to the bond they had shared? How had it all unraveled so suddenly, so completely?

With a sigh, Felix set his phone down and returned to his manuscript. But even as the words on the screen formed the world he had created for them, his thoughts kept circling back to Hyunjin. The ache in his chest was still there, lingering beneath the surface, and it seemed like nothing could fill the space where Hyunjin's presence once was.

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Meanwhile, miles away, in the small town where he had found temporary refuge, Hyunjin sat alone in a quiet room, the only sound the faint hum of a guitar's strings. He had been in this town for several weeks now, walking through streets that were unfamiliar to him, trying to find something—anything—that could bring him peace. But no matter how many new faces he met or how many long walks he took, the emptiness inside him never quite seemed to fade.

Hyunjin's fingers moved slowly over the guitar strings, the melody coming to him in broken pieces, like fragments of a dream he couldn't quite piece together. Music had always been his escape, his refuge. When everything felt chaotic, when he was lost in a sea of expectations and doubts, music was the one thing that could anchor him.

But now, the music felt hollow. It didn't soothe him like it once had. It was as if he was playing for the sake of playing, filling the silence with sound, but unable to capture the emotion he so desperately needed to express. It was always the same cycle—he would play, hoping for release, and yet the ache in his chest only deepened. The melodies no longer had the power to heal him.

The pressure from his family had been unbearable. Their expectations weighed on him, crushing his spirit, and no matter how much he played, no matter how much he immersed himself in the music, it never seemed to be enough. The art he loved, the music that had once been his joy, had become a reminder of everything he had lost, of the future they had planned for him—one that didn't include Felix.

Felix. 

The name lingered in his mind like a quiet whisper. Hyunjin hadn't meant to push him away, hadn't meant to disappear from his life without explanation. But the pressure, the fear of failing, had consumed him. And in the end, he had felt like there was no other way out but to leave.

But now, in this quiet town, far from the city that had once been his world, Hyunjin couldn't escape the memories. He thought of Felix constantly—of the way Felix's eyes had sparkled with excitement whenever they shared a new idea, of the quiet moments when their hands had brushed against each other in galleries or while walking through the streets. He remembered the way Felix had looked at him sometimes, with a tenderness that made Hyunjin's heart race. He missed the simplicity of it, the friendship that had been so easy and so pure.

In one moment of weakness, Hyunjin pulled out his phone and began to scroll through old messages, searching for a trace of the connection they had once shared. He found the messages, just like Felix had. They were filled with laughter, late-night chats, and thoughts shared in the early morning hours. And then he found it—the message that still made his heart tighten in his chest.

"You make the world seem a little less scary, Felix. I don't know what I would do without you."

Hyunjin's breath caught in his throat. It was exactly how he had felt in that moment, exactly how Felix had made him feel. But now, with the distance between them, it felt like a lifetime ago. He could feel the weight of the words pressing down on him. Had Felix really meant that? Had Hyunjin been too blind to see the depth of Felix's feelings? And more importantly, had he ruined everything by leaving?

The guilt washed over him in waves, as heavy as the silence in the room. He had been so caught up in his own confusion, in his own fear of failure, that he hadn't stopped to think about how much he was hurting Felix. The man who had always been there, steady and constant, in a world that had never made sense. Felix had never asked for anything in return. He had simply given, quietly, without expecting anything back.

Hyunjin placed the guitar down and stood, pacing the room. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know how to fix the mess he had created. All he knew was that the longer he stayed here, the farther he drifted from the person he needed most.

Felix. He wanted to reach out, to make amends, but the fear that had once kept him from being open with his own heart now seemed even more insurmountable. Could he really face him again? Could he explain why he had left without a word?

But even as he asked himself these questions, Hyunjin knew deep down that the only way to heal, the only way to move forward, was to face the truth. He had to confront the part of himself that had been running away from everything—including his feelings for Felix.

He grabbed his phone, his thumb hovering over the screen, and for a moment, he thought about sending a message. But then he stopped. The words didn't feel right. There was more he needed to say, more he needed to do. And so, instead of typing a message, he put his phone down and closed his eyes, letting the quiet of the room settle around him.

He couldn't stay away forever. He knew that now.

And as he thought about Felix, as he thought about the love and pain that still lingered in his heart, Hyunjin made a decision.

Was it time to go back? He don't really know.

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'He don't really know.' . Dont worry, i dont know either 🥹