✧ min ho;

i should've never agreed to do this movie.

i should've said no, should've walked away the moment professor alex suggested it. but i didn't. and now, i'm standing in the kitchen of some rented-out apartment, pretending like i don't feel kitty's presence in the other room.

the crew is setting up for the next scene. everyone else is in the living room, going over lines, adjusting lighting, making small talk like nothing's wrong.

like i'm not falling apart from the inside out.

i lean against the kitchen counter, running a hand through my hair. i need space, i need air, i need something to distract me from the way my chest tightens every time i so much as think about last night.

"i want you, min ho."

i squeeze my eyes shut, my jaw clenching.

too late.

i tell myself that over and over again, like maybe if i say it enough, it'll make it true.

i open my eyes when i hear footsteps approaching.

dae.

he walks into the kitchen without a word and sets something on the table.

a tuna kimbap and a matcha.

i look at it, then back at him. he sighs before pulling out a chair and sitting down.

"it's a peace offering," he says, pushing the food toward me. "go ahead. i know you're hungry."

i scoff but sit down across from him anyway. i don't touch the food. "since when do you bring me food?"

dae shrugs. "since i figured you were probably too pissed off to take care of yourself properly."

i don't say anything, just eye him warily. i unwrap the paper from the plastic straw before putting into the drink. he leans forward, clasping his hands together on the table. "i wanted to talk."

i raise an eyebrow, sipping on the matcha. "about?"

he sighs again, shaking his head. "about how much of an asshole i've been."

that gets my attention.

dae doesn't hesitate—he just keeps going. "i was selfish. i knew kitty didn't like me back, and i still made her feel guilty about it. i had no right."

i stare at him, caught off guard by the honesty.

"i care about her," dae continues. "and i guess... i convinced myself that if i held on tight enough, she'd look at me the way she looks at you."

his words hit. hard.

because i've spent weeks trying to convince myself that she doesn't look at me that way. but dae sees it. and he still stepped aside.

i look down at the kimbap, suddenly feeling like it's a little harder to breathe. "why are you telling me this?"

"because i don't want you blaming her for everything," dae says simply. "she was torn up about it, min ho. i made her feel like she owed me something, and that wasn't fair."

my grip tightens around my matcha. he studies me for a second before adding, "she wanted to explain. you just wouldn't let her."

my chest burns because he's right.

but admitting that would mean acknowledging the fact that i've been wrong this whole time. that maybe... it wasn't too late. but i can't go there.

not yet.

"if this is your way of getting me to confess my feelings, it's not gonna work," i mutter.

dae laughs, shaking his head. "nah. that's your problem to figure out."

i sigh, dragging a hand through my hair. "thanks.. dae. i appreciate it."

dae raises an eyebrow. "for the food? or for admitting i was a complete idiot?"

i smirk, finally picking up the kimbap and taking a bite. "both."

dae shakes his head but looks amused. i chew, thinking for a second before swallowing, "i ... really missed you."

dae pauses. his expression shifts—less teasing, more real.

he lets out a breath, nodding. "yeah. me too."

for a moment, neither of us says anything.

then i roll my eyes, smirking. "but if you ever get dramatic over a girl again, i'm disowning you as a friend."

dae scoffs, leaning back in his chair. "me? dramatic? dude, have you met yourself?"

"i'm literally the chillest guy in this entire production."

"oh yeah?" dae snorts. "says the guy who nearly stormed out of a whole ass dance scene because he couldn't handle looking at kitty."

i groan. "you just had to bring that up."

he grins, standing up and stretching. "someone's gotta keep you humble."

i shake my head, but something in my chest feels... lighter. as he turns to leave, dae pauses, glancing back at me.

"just don't be an idiot, min ho," he says, voice softer now. "you can't let your own fears stop you from being happy."

his words linger longer than i want them to.

i don't respond. i just watch as he heads towards the living room, disappearing into the conversation with the rest of the crew.

i exhale, standing up from my seat. i should probably go back too.

but the second i step towards the doorway, i see her.

kitty.

she's standing in the living room, laughing at something juliana said. she looks relaxed—lighter—but then, as if sensing me, her eyes flicker up.

for the briefest second, we lock eyes.

but just as quickly as it happens, we both look away. i grip my matcha tighter and swallow down the uneasy feeling in my throat.

why can't i let go? why am i still so upset?

i shake the thought off and step into the room, forcing myself to act normal.

because if i don't, i know i'll start convincing myself that maybe it's not too late after all.

—

✧ kitty;

being in the same room as min ho is making me feel like i'm suffocating.

min ho and i are about to sing together. the song he wrote right before we almost kissed.

for a moment, i consider telling professor alex that i can't do this. that my voice is shot, that my emotions are too raw, that looking at min ho too long makes my stomach hurt.

but then he speaks.

"kitty, min ho, go run lines in the other room while we finish setting up," professor alex calls out.

i force a nod, my pulse quickening.

min ho doesn't look at me.

he just exhales through his nose and walks toward the bedroom, pushing the door open without a word. i follow.

the moment the door clicks shut behind us, the air shifts.

the room is dim, a soft yellow glow from the bedside lamp casting long shadows on the walls. it feels too intimate, too quiet.

neither of us moves.

we just stand there, stiff, awkward, the silence stretching between us like an open wound.

finally, min ho clears his throat, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "so... you ready to run lines?"

his voice is steady. unaffected. like nothing happened.

like i didn't whisper i want you just last night.

my heart drops.

i try to swallow down the ache in my chest, but it sticks, heavy and sharp.

he's pretending.

he's really going to stand there and pretend like we're just scene partners, like my words meant nothing, like he didn't hesitate before saying it's too late.

i should do the same.

i should nod, grab my script, and force my voice to stay even.

but i can't.

instead, i cross my arms tightly over my chest and stare at him, my voice quieter than i intend.

"is that all you have to say to me?"

min ho finally looks at me, eyebrows furrowing slightly. "what?"

i shake my head, biting the inside of my cheek to keep my voice steady. "you're just gonna stand there and act like nothing happened?"

his expression flickers, like he wasn't expecting me to say it out loud.

but then his walls are up again.

"we're here to rehearse," he says flatly.

anger bubbles up in my chest, mixing with my frustration, my hurt.

"so that's it? we're just gonna ignore it?" i press.

he lets out a breath, running a hand through his hair. "kitty, please—"

"no." i step closer. "i told you how i felt, min ho. i put myself out there and you just—" my throat tightens. "you just shut me out."

his jaw clenches. "you waited too long and let's not forget, you kinda did the same thing to me."

his words sting more than i want to admit.

i take another step forward. "min ho, i don't know how many times i have to tell you im sorry. i tried to explain myself but you're not listening!"

he looks at me then, really looks at me, and for a second—just a second—i see it.

the hesitation. the longing.

his voice drops lower. "we should run lines."

i feel the sting behind my eyes, the familiar burn of tears threatening to spill. i can't let him see me like this—won't let him see me like this.

forcing a tight smile, i shake my head. "i... i don't think i can right now." my voice wavers despite my efforts to keep it steady. "i'll just do my best when we film."

before he can respond, i turn on my heel and make a beeline for the door. my vision blurs as i step into the hallway, the walls closing in around me. i need to get away, need to find a place where i can fall apart without an audience.

spotting the bathroom door slightly ajar, i slip inside and lock it behind me. the moment the latch clicks, i break down.

silent sobs wreck my body as i sink to the floor, hugging my knees to my chest. the cold tiles press against my skin, grounding me as the weight of everything crashes down.

how did we get here? how did something that once felt so right become so unbearably painful?

i press the heels of my hands into my eyes, willing the tears to stop, but they keep coming.

i don't know how long i sit there, lost in my grief, before a soft knock echoes through the small space.

"covey?"

his voice is muffled through the door, but i'd recognize it anywhere. i hold my breath, praying he'll go away, that he won't see me like this.

"please... open the door."

there's a vulnerability in his tone that cuts through my anguish, a hint of the min ho i thought i knew.

but i can't face him—not now.

"i just... i need a minute," i manage to choke out, my voice barely above a whisper.

there's a pause, and for a moment, i think he might insist, might push the door open and force me to confront whatever this is between us.

but then, softly, "okay. take your time."

his footsteps retreat, and i'm left alone once more, the silence pressing in around me.

i take a shuddering breath, trying to pull myself together. i can't stay in here forever. eventually, i'll have to face him, face the music, face the mess we've made.