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It was a quiet evening at Daeyoung’s house, the kind of peaceful atmosphere Yushi had grown to cherish. The warmth of Daeyoung’s parents made the house feel like a second home, a stark contrast to the strained energy that often lingered in his own. They were in the living room, Daeyoung sitting on the couch, listening intently to a drama playing on the TV, while Yushi sprawled on the rug, laughing softly at the exaggerated dialogue.
“Yushi, you’re here so often, we might as well adopt you,” Daeyoung’s mother teased as she passed by with a basket of folded laundry.
Yushi flushed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’d be the luckiest guy alive.”
“You already are,” Daeyoung chimed in with a grin, causing Yushi to laugh and roll his eyes.
It was easy, natural. These moments with Daeyoung felt like a refuge, a space where guilt and the weight of his secret could momentarily fade. But when Yushi’s phone vibrated in his pocket, the brief glance at the screen brought it all crashing back.
“Uh, sorry,” Yushi said awkwardly as he got up.
“It’s my parents. I’ll just be outside for a minute.”
Daeyoung nodded, though the slight furrow of his brow didn’t go unnoticed by Yushi as he slipped out to the backyard.
Daeyoung focused on the show for a few minutes, but as the dialogue played on, he found himself distracted by the silence coming from outside. It wasn’t like Yushi to take this long.
Yushi was the type to finish calls quickly, especially when he knew they were in the middle of something.
Concerned, Daeyoung got up, tapping his cane lightly against the wooden floor as he made his way toward the back door. “Yushi?” he called softly, stepping out into the cool night air.
He didn’t have to go far. Yushi’s voice drifted toward him, low but distinct, from a corner of the backyard. He was still on the phone, and something about his tone frustrated, almost desperate, made Daeyoung stop in his tracks.
“I said I’m not leaving, Mom,” Yushi hissed. “I don’t care what you think. I have to be here.”
Daeyoung froze, his grip tightening on his cane. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but Yushi’s next words pinned him in place.
“You don’t understand. It’s my fault, all of it! The accident, his blindness—it’s because of me!”
The cane slipped from Daeyoung’s hand, landing on the grass with a muted thud. Yushi didn’t hear it, he was too caught up in his argument.
“I don’t care if you think it’s a waste of time,” Yushi continued, his voice cracking. “Every time I see him, I see what I’ve done. I have to make up for it, even if it’s never enough.”
Daeyoung’s breath hitched. His heart thundered in his chest as the words sank in, each one sharper than the last. My blindness… because of him?
Yushi’s voice softened, filled with anguish.
“Please, just stop. I can’t just leave him. I won’t.”
Daeyoung took a shaky step backward, then another, until the edge of the back door frame steadied him. He didn’t hear the rest of the call, he couldn’t. The truth had already crashed over him, heavy and suffocating.
When Yushi finally ended the call and turned back toward the house, he found Daeyoung waiting by the door. His expression was unreadable, his posture rigid.
“Daeyoung?” Yushi asked cautiously, his voice laced with concern.
Daeyoung tilted his head slightly toward him, his voice calm but eerily cold. “Yushi, is that true?”
Yushi froze, his chest tightening as he processed Daeyoung’s words. “What do you mean by that?” he asked, his voice shaky but attempting to sound neutral. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Daeyoung tilted his head slightly, his face unreadable but his tone sharp and deliberate. “I heard you, Yushi. Out here, on the phone. You said the accident was your fault. That my blindness is because of you.”
The blood drained from Yushi’s face. His legs felt weak, and he instinctively took a step back. “I… You must’ve misunderstood—”
“I didn’t misunderstand anything,” Daeyoung interrupted, his voice rising. He repeated the words he’d overheard, his voice shaking but precise, like a blade cutting through the tension.
“You said, ‘The accident, his blindness—it’s because of me.’ Don’t you dare lie to me, Yushi.”
Yushi’s heart sank. The words sounded even harsher when repeated aloud, a truth he’d buried for so long now laid bare in the cold air between them. He opened his mouth to say something, but no sound came out.
“Say something,” Daeyoung pressed, his voice trembling.
“I…” Yushi stammered, his vision blurring with tears. “I didn’t mean for it to happen, Daeyoung. I swear. It was an accident. I was stupid, careless. I—” His voice cracked, and he raised his hands as if to shield himself from the weight of Daeyoung’s glare. “I didn’t want to hurt you. I panicked. I—”
“You panicked?” Daeyoung’s voice was filled with incredulity, cutting through Yushi’s desperate rambling. “You ran away and left me there, bleeding. My whole world fell apart, and you ran.”
Tears spilled freely down Yushi’s face now, and he fell to his knees in front of Daeyoung. “I’m so sorry,” he sobbed, his voice breaking. “I’ve hated myself every single day for what I did. I thought—” He choked on his words. “I thought if I stayed by your side, maybe I could make it right. Maybe I could… I don’t know, help you somehow.”
Daeyoung’s expression darkened, his lips curling into a bitter smile. “So that’s what this has all been about. Your kindness, your friendship, it was all guilt.”
“No!” Yushi cried, shaking his head desperately. “It started that way, yes, but it’s not like that anymore. I care about you, Daeyoung. I enjoy being with you. I want to stay by your side, not because of guilt, but because of you. I—”
“Don’t,” Daeyoung cut him off, his voice sharp and filled with anger. “Don’t lie to me, Yushi. Don’t pretend this wasn’t all just to make yourself feel better. I don’t want your guilt, and I sure as hell don’t want your pity.”
Yushi crawled closer, gripping Daeyoung’s hands desperately. “It’s not pity. Please, Daeyoung, believe me! I care about you. I—”
“Let go of me,” Daeyoung snapped, wrenching his hands away. “I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want you here. Just leave. Don’t ever show your face in front of me again.”
“Please!” Yushi begged, his voice breaking into a sob. He knelt on the ground, trembling, tears streaming down his face. “Don’t push me away. I’ll do anything. Just don’t make me leave.”
The door creaked open behind them, and Daeyoung’s mother stepped out, her face pale as she took in the scene. Yushi, on the ground, crying uncontrollably; Daeyoung standing stiffly, his face twisted with anger and hurt.
“Yushi…” she began softly, her voice careful but firm. “I think you should go.”
“No, please,” Yushi begged, turning to her with tear-filled eyes. “I can’t leave him like this. I can’t—”
“Yushi.” Her voice grew gentler, but there was no room for argument. “Please. For Daeyoung’s sake… just go.”
Yushi’s shoulders slumped as her words sank in. He turned back to Daeyoung, his voice trembling. “I’m so sorry, Daeyoung. I didn’t mean for any of this. I…”
“Leave,” Daeyoung repeated, his voice like ice.
Yushi hesitated for a moment longer, then slowly stood, his legs unsteady beneath him. With one last, heartbroken look at Daeyoung, he turned and walked away, his sobs echoing in the quiet night.
Daeyoung’s mother approached him carefully, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”
Daeyoung didn’t respond. His body was tense, his expression unreadable as he stood rooted in place. Only after several moments did he murmur, “I just… I just want to be alone.”
She gave his shoulder a soft squeeze before stepping back inside, leaving him alone in the stillness of the backyard.
As the night closed in around him, Daeyoung clenched his fists at his sides, the anger and betrayal simmering in his chest. He had trusted Yushi, leaned on him, even cared for him. And now, all of it felt like a cruel lie.
Yushi stumbled into his house late that evening, his face pale and blotchy from crying. He barely kicked off his shoes before his mother appeared in the hallway, her arms crossed and her expression tight with disapproval.
"Where have you been?" she demanded, her tone clipped. "You’ve been ignoring your studies, hanging around that boy’s house all the time. And now look at you, crying like a child. What happened this time?"
Yushi froze, his grief quickly giving way to frustration. He glared at her, his voice sharp and trembling. “You’re the one who kept telling me to leave him alone, to stop spending time with him. Well, congratulations, Mom! I’ve ruined everything!”
His mother blinked, startled by the outburst.
“Excuse me?”
“You don’t get it, do you?” Yushi spat, his voice rising. “If you hadn’t pushed me to stay away, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe Daeyoung wouldn’t hate me!”
“Hate you?” she scoffed, her arms dropping to her sides. “Yushi, you’re the one who caused this mess, not me. Or have you forgotten who made that poor boy blind in the first place?”
The words hit him like a slap, and the anger drained from his face, replaced by raw guilt. His lips parted, but no sound came out.
“That’s what I thought,” she said, shaking her head. “Don’t you dare stand here and blame me for something you did.”
Yushi swallowed hard, his hands trembling. “I know it’s my fault,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “You don’t think I know that? I’ve been living with it every day. And now…”
His voice broke completely, and he turned on his heel, stumbling toward his room before his tears could spill again.
Yushi curled up on his bed, staring blankly at the wall. The silence in the room was deafening, amplifying the storm of emotions raging inside him. Hours passed, but sleep wouldn’t come. Finally, he grabbed his phone with shaking hands and dialed Daeyoung’s number.
The call rang once. Then twice. Then, abruptly, it cut off.
Frowning, Yushi tried again. This time, the call didn’t even ring—it went straight to voicemail. His heart sank as the realization hit him.
Daeyoung blocked me.
He dropped the phone onto the bed, his chest tightening as tears welled up in his eyes. He wanted to scream, to throw something, but all he could do was bury his face in his hands and cry.
The next morning, Yushi stood outside Daeyoung’s house, clutching a small bag of pastries. He had barely knocked on the door before Daeyoung’s mother opened it, her expression guarded.
“Mrs. Kim, please,” Yushi said, his voice hoarse.
“I need to see him. Just for a moment. I need to explain—”
“No, Yushi,” she said softly but firmly, blocking the doorway. “He doesn’t want to see you.”
“I just.. please, let me apologize,” Yushi begged, his voice breaking.
Her gaze softened, but she shook her head.
“Yushi, he needs time. Please respect that.”
The door closed gently, leaving Yushi standing on the porch with tears threatening to spill.
For days, Yushi returned to the house, waiting on the porch for hours, sometimes calling out to Daeyoung through the door. But every time, Daeyoung’s mother turned him away.
“Yushi, please stop coming here,” she said on the third day, her voice tinged with exhaustion.
“You’re only making things harder for him.”
But Yushi couldn’t stay away. He couldn’t bear the thought of leaving things as they were.
Inside the house, Daeyoung sat in his room, curled up on his bed with his cane lying beside him. The muffled sound of Yushi’s voice drifted through the walls, and his heart ached.
He should hate Yushi. He wanted to hate Yushi. But every time he thought of the warmth in Yushi’s laugh, the way he described the world in vivid detail, or how his presence made the silence less suffocating, the anger dissolved into something far more painful.
I shouldn’t miss him. I should hate him
Daeyoung thought, his chest tightening. But the truth was undeniable—he missed Yushi more than he could bear.
This limbo, this painful in-between of heartbreak and longing, was tearing him apart.
For nearly a month, Yushi showed up at Daeyoung’s house every day without fail, rain or shine. Each morning, he arrived with an apology ready on his lips and left late in the afternoon when it became clear no one would let him in.
“Please, Mrs. Kim,” he begged on the twenty sixth day, his voice hoarse from hours of pleading.
“Just let me see him for five minutes. That’s all I’m asking.”
Daeyoung’s mother sighed, her expression torn between sympathy and frustration. “Yushi, I’ve told you before. He doesn’t want to see you. You showing up every day, it’s not helping him heal. It’s only making things harder for both of you.”
“But I can’t just leave things like this!” Yushi cried, his eyes welling up with tears. “I can’t give up on him!”
She shook her head firmly, though her gaze was heavy with pity. “Yushi, you need to stop. If you don’t, I’ll have no choice but to call the police. Do you understand me?”
Her words hit Yushi like a punch to the gut. For a long moment, he just stood there, his shoulders slumping as the weight of reality sank in. Finally, he nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. “I understand.”
After that day, Yushi stopped going to Daeyoung’s house, though it took every ounce of strength he had to stay away. The weeks stretched into months, and life became a monotonous blur. He threw himself into his studies, hoping to distract himself from the ache in his chest, but nothing worked.
Everywhere he went, he thought of Daeyoung. Every laugh he heard reminded him of the way Daeyoung’s laughter used to brighten even the darkest days. Every moment of silence reminded him of the countless hours they had spent together, Yushi filling the void with stories and descriptions of the world Daeyoung could no longer see.
And now, that silence felt suffocating.
Months later, Yushi found himself at a supermarket, mindlessly browsing the shelves. He wasn’t even sure why he was there—he didn’t need anything in particular. Maybe he just wanted to be around people, to feel less alone.
As he turned down an aisle, a familiar voice stopped him in his tracks.
It was Daeyoung.
Heart pounding, Yushi stepped closer, peering cautiously around the corner. There he was, standing near the fruit display, his cane resting lightly in his hand.
But Daeyoung wasn’t alone.
A man stood beside him, smiling warmly as he handed Daeyoung a fruit to hold. They were talking, their conversation easy and filled with laughter. Daeyoung’s face was relaxed, his smile radiant.
Yushi’s chest tightened painfully. He hadn’t seen Daeyoung smile like that in months, not since everything had fallen apart. Seeing him happy again should have made Yushi feel relieved, even glad.
But it didn’t.
It made him feel like someone had ripped his heart out.
It should’ve been me making him smile like that Yushi thought bitterly. It should’ve been me by his side.
He watched them from a distance, his fists clenching at his sides as the man placed a hand lightly on Daeyoung’s shoulder, guiding him down the aisle. The ease between them, the comfort, it was unbearable.
Yushi’s stomach churned with jealousy, and before he could stop himself, he found himself following them, keeping a careful distance. He needed to know who this man was. A friend? A new love? The thought of the latter sent a sharp pang through his chest.
He followed them through the aisles, watching as the man guided Daeyoung with quiet confidence, their conversation filled with small, affectionate gestures.
When they reached the checkout, Yushi lingered by a nearby shelf, pretending to browse while his gaze remained fixed on them. The man handed over his wallet, paying for their items as Daeyoung chuckled at something he said.
Yushi’s heart ached at the sight. The happiness radiating from Daeyoung was undeniable, but all it did was remind him of what he had lost—and what he could never get back.
As they left the store together, Yushi hesitated, torn between walking away and following them further. His feet remained rooted to the ground, his mind racing.
Who is he?
He needed to know.
Daeyoung walked beside Sion with a small, content smile. The day had been pleasant—an outing to the supermarket, some light banter, and the comfortable presence of his cousin. Ever since Sion had moved in, Daeyoung felt a little less alone, even if the weight in his chest hadn’t fully lifted.
“You really cleared out the strawberry section back there,” Sion teased, adjusting the grocery bag in his hand.
“They’re in season,” Daeyoung replied with a faint chuckle. “Besides, you’re the one who encouraged it.”
“Fair enough. I can’t let you suffer without your favorite fruit,” Sion joked, but his eyes darted back for the third time since they left the store.
The man following them was still there. Sion had noticed him from the checkout line, hanging back just enough to seem casual but never straying far. At first, he assumed it was a coincidence, but by now, it was clear.
Whoever he was, he was following them.
Sion’s brows furrowed as he caught a better look at the man’s face when they passed a streetlamp. His heart skipped a beat. It’s him, he thought, remembering the photos Daeyoung’s mother had shown him when explaining everything about Yushi.
As they reached a quieter street, Sion glanced at Daeyoung, who was blissfully unaware, his cane tapping lightly against the sidewalk. His cousin’s obliviousness made his chest ache.
Sion sighed quietly, weighing his options. He knew Daeyoung didn’t want to talk about Yushi, he’d made that abundantly clear during the rare times Sion had tried to broach the subject. But this? This felt like fate stepping in, whether Daeyoung liked it or not.
“Hey,” Sion said suddenly, stopping in his tracks.
“What is it?” Daeyoung asked, turning his head toward him.
“Do you mind if we take a different route home? There’s a park nearby. It’s nice to walk through this time of day.”
Daeyoung hesitated. “I guess. If you want to.”
Sion smiled faintly. “Great. Follow me.”
They entered the park a few minutes later, the quiet pathways shaded by tall trees and lined with benches. Sion’s heart was pounding, his mind racing as he formulated a plan. He led Daeyoung to an open space near the fountain, slowing his pace just enough for the man following them to close the distance.
When Sion finally stopped and turned around, Yushi froze, caught in the open.
“What are you doing?” Daeyoung asked, sensing the abrupt halt in movement.
Sion didn’t answer right away. Instead, he spoke directly to Yushi, his voice firm. “You’ve been following us since the supermarket. Why don’t you come here and explain yourself?”
Daeyoung’s head snapped up in confusion.
“What? Someone’s following us?”
Yushi hesitated, his eyes darting between Sion and Daeyoung. “I—I wasn’t…” he stammered, his voice trembling.
“Don’t even try to deny it,” Sion said sharply.
“You’ve been trailing us for blocks. Either say what you need to say or leave us alone.”
Daeyoung’s expression hardened, though his blind eyes remained focused ahead. His voice was tight with anger. “Who is it?”
Sion glanced at Yushi, his lips pressing into a thin line. “It’s Yushi.”
Daeyoung’s breath hitched, and his grip on his cane tightened. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Daeyoung,” Yushi said, stepping forward, his voice pleading. “I—I didn’t mean to scare you. I just… I wanted to see you. To make sure you’re okay.”
“Make sure I’m okay?” Daeyoung repeated, his voice rising. “You’re stalking me now? That’s how you ‘make sure’?”
“I wasn’t stalking you!” Yushi exclaimed, his voice breaking. “I just… I didn’t know how else to see you. You blocked my calls, and I—”
“Because I didn’t want to see you, Yushi!”
Daeyoung snapped, his voice trembling with anger. “What part of that don’t you understand?”
“Daeyoung, please,” Yushi begged, his hands clenched at his sides. “I just need to talk to you. I need you to know how sorry I am. I—”
“Enough.” Daeyoung’s voice cut through Yushi’s desperate rambling like a blade. “I’ve heard enough.”
Sion raised a hand, stepping between them.
“Hey,” he said, his tone softer now. “Daeyoung, maybe you should hear him out. Just once.”
Daeyoung turned toward Sion, his expression incredulous. “Why are you taking his side?”
“I’m not taking sides,” Sion said calmly. “But I can see how much this is eating at both of you. You don’t have to forgive him, but maybe it’s time to stop running from this.”
Daeyoung stood there, his chest heaving with barely contained emotion. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, before he finally spoke.
“Fine,” he said coldly. “You want to talk, Yushi? Talk. But don’t expect anything from me.”
Yushi’s eyes filled with tears as he stepped closer, his voice trembling. “Thank you. I just… thank you.”
The two of them sat on the park bench, the air heavy with unspoken emotions. Sion stood not too far away, keeping a protective eye on Daeyoung while pretending to fiddle with his phone, giving them the illusion of privacy.
Yushi sat beside Daeyoung, his hands trembling in his lap. He stared at the ground, his vision blurred by unshed tears. Finally, he gathered the courage to speak.
“Daeyoung…” His voice was barely above a whisper, raw and unsteady. “I’m so sorry. For everything. I know I’ve said that before, but I mean it. I don’t even know where to start because there’s so much I need to say. So much I need to explain.”
Daeyoung’s face was impassive, turned slightly toward the sound of Yushi’s voice, though his grip on his cane betrayed his tension.
Yushi swallowed hard, forcing himself to continue. “I never wanted to hurt you. I swear, I didn’t. What happened that day—it was my fault. I was careless, and I’ve hated myself every single day since. But running away after… that was the worst thing I could’ve done. I should have stayed. I should have faced what I did instead of being a coward.”
His voice cracked, and he wiped his eyes hastily.
“When I saw you again, months later, I didn’t even recognize you at first. But then I realized it was you, and all of it came flooding back, the guilt, the shame, the regret. I wanted to tell you the truth, but I couldn’t. I was so scared of how much you’d hate me if you knew. And that’s selfish, I know. I was thinking about myself, not about you.”
Daeyoung’s expression didn’t change, but Yushi thought he saw a flicker of something, pain, maybe, cross his face. It made his heart ache even more.
“But being around you,” Yushi continued, his voice trembling, “it changed everything for me. At first, I thought I was just trying to make up for what I did. To ease my guilt. But the more time I spent with you, the more I realized… it wasn’t guilt anymore. It wasn’t about me trying to make myself feel better. I wanted to be there for you because I cared about you. Because I liked being with you. You made everything feel brighter, even when I knew I didn’t deserve it.”
Daeyoung shifted slightly, his fingers tightening on his cane. “If that’s true, why didn’t you tell me earlier? Why wait until I overheard you on the phone?”
Yushi’s head hung low, his tears spilling freely now. “Because I was a coward. I kept thinking that if I told you, you’d push me away forever. I didn’t want to lose you, Daeyoung. I thought I could just… bury the truth and focus on being a good friend to you. But that wasn’t fair to you. It wasn’t fair to either of us.”
His voice broke completely as he added, “And now I’ve lost you anyway. And it’s my fault. I hurt you so much, and I don’t know how to fix it. But I miss you, Daeyoung. Every single day. I miss your voice, your laughter, the way you’d listen so patiently when I rambled on about the smallest things. You’re the one who can’t see, but my days feel so dark without you. I don’t know how to go back to being without you.”
Daeyoung’s lips parted slightly, his breath catching in his throat. Yushi’s words cut through him, stirring up emotions he had tried so hard to bury.
“I know I don’t deserve it,” Yushi continued, his voice a desperate plea now. “But please… don’t hate me. Let me back in. I’ll do anything to make it right, anything to prove to you that I’m not here because of guilt anymore. I’m here because I care about you. Because I…” He hesitated, his voice trembling. “Because I need you in my life.”
Yushi was crying openly now, his hands gripping his knees as he tried to steady himself. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Daeyoung. And I ruined it. But I can’t give up on us, not when you mean so much to me. Please… don’t shut me out.”
Daeyoung sat in silence, his mind a whirlwind of emotions. He should hate Yushi for what he had done, for the lies, for the way he had upended Daeyoung’s life. But hearing the raw, unfiltered truth in Yushi’s voice—the vulnerability, the regret, the longing—brought an ache to his chest that he couldn’t ignore.
“Yushi…” Daeyoung’s voice was barely audible, trembling with suppressed emotion. “You have no idea how much you hurt me. I trusted you. I relied on you. And then I found out everything we had was built on a lie.”
Yushi flinched, his tears falling faster. “I know,” he whispered. “I know I hurt you. And I’ll never forgive myself for that. But everything I felt for you—the joy I felt when I was with you—that wasn’t a lie. It never was. Please, Daeyoung, believe me.”
Daeyoung’s grip on his cane loosened slightly, and he let out a shaky breath. The anger he had carried for so long felt heavy, but the longing for Yushi’s presence—his laughter, his warmth—was heavier still.
“You said you’ll never lie to me again,” Daeyoung said softly. “Do you mean it?”
“I swear,” Yushi said without hesitation, his voice firm despite the tears. “I’ll only tell you the truth, no matter what. Just… please don’t shut me out. Please don’t hate me.”
For a moment, there was only silence. Then, slowly, Daeyoung reached out, his hand brushing against Yushi’s arm. Yushi immediately leaned into the touch, his own hands trembling as he pulled Daeyoung into a tight embrace.
“I missed you too,” Daeyoung whispered, his voice breaking as tears streamed down his face.
“I missed you so much, Yushi.”
Yushi’s sobs grew louder as he clung to Daeyoung, the weight of his guilt and longing finally giving way to relief. “Thank you,” he choked out. “Thank you for giving me another chance.”
They stayed like that for what felt like forever, holding each other tightly as the tears flowed freely, washing away months of pain and misunderstanding.
Sion, watching from a distance, smiled to himself and quietly walked away, leaving them to their long-overdue reconciliation.