The low hum of conversation filled the back room of Nightshade, a dimly lit club tucked away in the heart of Seoul's glittering nightlife. The thick scent of alcohol and the faint trace of illicit substances hung in the air, an unmistakable part of the atmosphere. The club wasn't just known for its luxury and exclusivity; those in the know understood its real purpose. It was where South Korea's most famous faces could let loose in ways that wouldn't be forgiven by the public, indulging in vices they couldn't afford to be seen enjoying.

Ji Yeonwoo sat behind a heavy oak desk, the dim overhead light casting shadows over his gaunt face, carrying the coldness that matched the weight of the double life he now led—a respectable law firm manager by day, and a drug-dealing bar owner by night. His once-sharp features were softened with age and the toll of years lost in darkness. His skin had taken on a pallor, his eyes hollow as if the life had long since drained out of them. The wheelchair he sat in was the constant reminder of his fall from grace—his foolishness in pursuing kyokushin karate and crippling himself, in more ways than one.

A half-empty glass of whiskey rested near his hand, ignored for now as he surveyed the small group of applicants seated across the room. His eyes drifted over them with disinterest. They came and went, interchangeable, much like the days in his life.

Yeonwoo's mind wandered, not really caring who he picked today. He was here to maintain the front of legitimacy. The drug deals, the under-the-table transactions, the favors that could ruin entire careers—those were done behind closed doors. Out here, the façade needed to stay intact.

His gaze finally stopped on one applicant—a tall, well-built man with a confident posture. He had a mop of shaggy blonde hair, slightly too long, but the kind you'd expect from someone playing at being rebellious. There was something odd about him. Not the way he looked, though—Yeonwoo had seen every kind of face in this city. It was the way the man carried himself, like he was hiding something beneath the surface. 

The man's name, according to the application form, was Han Jiwon. But Yeonwoo recognized the posture, the tension in his shoulders, the intensity behind his eyes, even if they were covered by colored contact lenses. 

Seong Taehoon.

Yeonwoo's fingers drummed softly against the armrest of his wheelchair. So, the rising national taekwondo star had come to him—finally. Yeonwoo hadn't seen him since those turbulent years, back when Taehoon had provoked him, pushed him to face the truth about himself, only to vanish when Yeonwoo had lost everything. 

Why now? Why here?

He didn't react, though. He had grown used to hiding everything behind a mask, something he had mastered over the years of dealing with the worst of society. If Taehoon was here for a reason, Yeonwoo would play along.

"Han Jiwon, right?" Yeonwoo asked, his voice low and gravelly, betraying none of the surprise he felt.

Taehoon nodded, flashing a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yes, sir."

Yeonwoo let his gaze linger a moment longer before shifting to the other applicants. They were irrelevant now. The others shifted uncomfortably, sensing that they weren't the focus of this interview anymore. With a casual flick of his hand, Yeonwoo dismissed them.

"Thank you for coming," he said to the others, his voice cold and clipped. "We'll be in touch."

The rejected applicants murmured their thanks and filed out of the room. When the door clicked shut behind them, Yeonwoo leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable.

"You're the last one," he said, with a tone mixed of boredom and curiosity. "So, why do you want to work here?"

Han Jiwon hesitated for just a fraction of a second before answering. "I've heard Nightshade is...exclusive. I'm looking to expand my horizons." His voice was casual, smooth, like he had rehearsed the line a thousand times.

Yeonwoo raised an eyebrow, but didn't push. Taehoon was trying hard to blend in, to act like just another guy looking for a break in a seedy nightclub. He probably thought Yeonwoo didn't recognize him under the wig, fake name, and colored contacts. But there was no mistaking the way Taehoon spoke, the way he moved, the subtle determination in his eyes.

"Expand your horizons, huh?" Yeonwoo chuckled dryly. "You're either desperate or stupid. Which is it?"

Taehoon kept his expression neutral, though Yeonwoo could see the faintest flicker of discomfort. "I know how to keep my head down, do the work. That's what you need here, isn't it?"

Yeonwoo studied him in silence, letting the tension build in the room. Taehoon was good—better than most—but not good enough.

Not here, not in front of him.

"Fine," Yeonwoo said at last. "You're hired. But I've got one rule."

Taehoon blinked, caught off guard by the sudden decision. "What's that?"

"You don't ask questions," Yeonwoo said, his eyes narrowing slightly, the air around them growing heavier. "You keep your head down, like you said, and do as you're told. No curiosity, no prying into anything that doesn't concern you."

Taehoon nodded, his jaw tight. "Understood."

Without another word, Taehoon left the room, and Yeonwoo leaned back in his chair, his eyes following him until the door closed behind him.

The game had begun.

_______

Taehoon's fingers curled around the edge of the bar, the polished wood cold against his skin as the thrum of the nightclub's music pulsed through him. He was no stranger to loud, chaotic environments, but Nightshade felt different. The lights were dim, casting shadowy figures across the room as celebrities, idols, and elites indulged in their darkest desires—hidden from the world's judgment. He scanned the room through the haze, keeping a low profile behind the bar as he pretended to clean glasses, his mind racing.

The job should have been routine by now—blending in, observing, keeping an ear to the ground for any evidence he could pass along to his superiors. But Nightshade was anything but routine. Every time his gaze landed on Ji Yeonwoo, his chest tightened, the weight of guilt pulling him under like a riptide.

Yeonwoo had once been everything Taehoon wasn't: a model student, clean, kind, driven. Now, he sat slumped in his wheelchair in the VIP section, surrounded by empty bottles, half-dressed women, and the stench of his own self-destruction. The good kid, the one who had always kept his head down, who had worked hard to please his father and society, was now unrecognizable. 

Taehoon had to stop himself from staring too long.

"How are you holding up?" A soft voice interrupted his thoughts, and Taehoon blinked, glancing at Jiyoung, another server who had been working at the bar longer than him. She was one of the few people who didn't seem completely consumed by the darkness of the place, though her eyes still carried the weight of it.

"Fine," Taehoon replied, forcing a smile. He had gotten better at acting over the years, at hiding the gnawing discomfort. But Jiyoung had sharp eyes, and her gaze lingered on him, as if sensing something was off.

"Stay alert. You don't want to mess up around here," she warned, casting a quick glance toward the VIP area where Yeonwoo sat. "He may look out of it, but he notices everything."

Taehoon nodded, though his mind was far from the conversation. He was here for one reason—to save Yeonwoo before it was too late, to stop him from becoming the second Lee Dowoon.

Dowoon's face flashed in Taehoon's mind—his former best friend, his brother in all but blood. He had been consumed by violence before they were even old enough to understand the consequences. And Taehoon had failed him. He had been too late then, and he wasn't going to let history repeat itself.

As he wiped down the bar, Taehoon's thoughts drifted to his high school days. Taehoon had been the bully then, living for the thrill of dominance, until the day Yoo Hobin came into his life and flipped his world upside down. Hobin had exposed him, humiliated him, and then, ironically, saved him.

Hobin's YouTube channel, which had started out as a way to expose bullies, had grown into something far more powerful. Taehoon had helped Hobin when needed, doing his part to atone for his past. But Ji Yeonwoo... Yeonwoo had fallen through the cracks, and it had all been Taehoon's fault. He hadn't been there when Yeonwoo needed him most, too afraid to confront the reality of his own failures.

Now, he was determined to make it right, even if it meant going undercover in this hellhole of a bar.

From his peripheral vision, Taehoon caught sight of Yeonwoo again. He was slouched in his wheelchair, his hollow eyes staring blankly ahead as one of the girls next to him leaned in, whispering something in his ear. Yeonwoo barely reacted, his fingers twitching slightly before reaching for another drink. Taehoon's gut twisted as he watched the man slip further into the abyss.

Yeonwoo had lost so much—his father, his future, his health. And now, he was barely a shell of the nerdy boy Taehoon had met years ago. The drugs, the women, the alcohol—it was all just a distraction, a way for Yeonwoo to drown out the pain he couldn't face.

Taehoon clenched his jaw, anger and guilt warring inside him. He had to focus. He couldn't let his emotions get in the way of the mission. His job was to gather evidence—track the flow of drugs, figure out who was supplying the club, and expose the corruption that kept Nightshade in business. 

But every time he looked at Yeonwoo, that mission became personal again.

"Jiwon!" the manager barked from across the room, snapping Taehoon out of his thoughts. He straightened, forcing himself to remember the alias he was using—Han Jiwon. He quickly grabbed the tray of drinks he had been preparing and headed over to the VIP section, his heart pounding as he approached Yeonwoo's table.

Up close, Yeonwoo looked even worse than Taehoon had realized. His once sharp, intelligent eyes were glazed over, his face gaunt from too many sleepless nights and too much substance abuse. Taehoon's throat tightened, and for a moment, he wasn't sure he could go through with it. 

But he couldn't back down now. He had already made his choice.

"Your drinks, sir," Taehoon said, keeping his voice even as he set the tray down on the table. Yeonwoo barely glanced up, his attention fixed on the girl beside him. She giggled and whispered something in his ear, and Yeonwoo gave a slow, lazy smile, though it didn't reach his eyes.

Suddenly, one of the girls at the table leaned in closer to Yeonwoo, her hand slipping something small and white into his palm. Taehoon's heart skipped a beat. It was subtle, but there—drugs. Yeonwoo took it without hesitation, popping the pill into his mouth like it was nothing more than a candy.

Taehoon's stomach churned. He had known it would be bad, but seeing it firsthand—watching Yeonwoo slip further into addiction—made it all too real.

He had to get out of here before he did something reckless, something that would blow his cover.

"Han Jiwon," Yeonwoo's voice slurred suddenly, and Taehoon froze. It was the first time Yeonwoo had acknowledged him directly since he started working here. Slowly, he turned to face the man, his heart pounding in his chest.

Yeonwoo's eyes flickered toward him, hazy but sharp enough to cut through the fog. "You remind me of someone," he muttered, his lips curling into a faint, humorless smile. "But I can't remember who."

Taehoon swallowed, forcing himself to stay calm. "I'm just the new guy, sir," he said, keeping his voice steady. "Here to serve drinks, that's all."

Yeonwoo let out a low, bitter laugh. "Yeah... just another face in the crowd, huh?"

Taehoon nodded, not trusting himself to say more. He needed to get out of here, before Yeonwoo looked too closely. Before the weight of the past crushed him.

As he turned to leave, he caught one last glimpse of Yeonwoo— lost in a world of pain and darkness, surrounded by people who didn't care about him.

But Taehoon, he cared. Oh how he cared too much. He was here to save Yeonwoo, whether Yeonwoo wanted to be saved or not.

He wouldn't lose him. Not like he lost Lee Dowoon.

_______

The pounding music from Nightshade echoed dimly through the halls as Taehoon carried Yeonwoo's limp body toward the private quarters above the bar. The smell of sweat, alcohol, and something more pungent clung to Yeonwoo, who was half-conscious, his body slumped heavily against Taehoon's chest. Every now and then, Yeonwoo would mumble something incoherent, his eyes barely open, pupils dilated from whatever drug he'd taken.

Taehoon carefully navigated the dimly lit hallways, moving past closed doors that hid all sorts of illicit activities. No one paid attention to him; they were all too wrapped up in their own vices. Taehoon finally reached Yeonwoo's private room, a place he had never been before but had heard about. It was a personal sanctuary of sorts, but now it looked more like a prison.

Inside, the room was dim, with expensive furniture scattered around in disarray. A faint scent of cigarette smoke hung in the air, mixing with the stale odor of alcohol. Taehoon gently laid Yeonwoo down on the large bed, careful not to jostle him too much. Yeonwoo groaned, his eyes fluttering open briefly before closing again.

"Jiwon...?" Yeonwoo mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. His lips curled into a lazy, drugged smile. "You came... to save me?"

Taehoon swallowed the lump in his throat. He knelt by the side of the bed, brushing the damp hair from Yeonwoo's forehead. "Yeah... I'm here," he said quietly, his voice betraying the sadness he felt.

Yeonwoo let out a weak chuckle, eyes half-open but unfocused. "You should strip... get comfortable," he slurred. "We can... have some fun, yeah?"

Taehoon's heart sank. The casual way Yeonwoo said it, as if this was just another routine for him, shattered whatever resolve Taehoon had been holding onto. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He couldn't let his emotions cloud his judgment, not now. 

"No, Yeonwoo," Taehoon said firmly, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "I'm not doing that."

Yeonwoo's brow furrowed in confusion, as if Taehoon's refusal didn't make sense to him. His hand lazily reached for Taehoon's arm, his touch weak but insistent. "Why not? Everyone else does it... you're handsome," Yeonwoo murmured, his words slurring together. "Next time... we can do drugs, too. It'll feel good."

Taehoon felt a surge of anger, not at Yeonwoo, but at the situation that had led them here. At the broken system, at the corrupt people around Yeonwoo who had let him spiral like this. He pulled Yeonwoo's hand away, holding it in his own for a moment.

"No, Yeonwoo, you listen to me," Taehoon said softly. "You're not doing this because you want to. You're doing this because you're hurting. I can't—won't—be a part of that."

Yeonwoo's eyes blinked open again, hazy but filled with confusion. "You... don't want me?" he asked, his voice small, vulnerable in a way Taehoon hadn't seen before. It broke Taehoon's heart to see Yeonwoo like this—so fragile, so lost.

Taehoon shook his head. "It's not about wanting or not wanting you, Yeonwoo. It's about getting you out of this... this hell. You need to get clean first. You need to fix yourself before we even think about anything else."

For a brief moment, something in Yeonwoo's expression shifted, a flicker of the old Yeonwoo peeking through the fog of drugs. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by a weary sigh. "I don't... know how," Yeonwoo whispered, his voice cracking.

Taehoon's chest tightened. He gently brushed his hand over Yeonwoo's hair again, his fingers trembling slightly as he tried to hold back his emotions. "We'll figure it out," he promised. "But you have to trust me, Yeonwoo. You have to let me help you."

Yeonwoo didn't respond, his eyes already drifting closed again, his body sinking deeper into the bed as the drugs pulled him under. Taehoon leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Yeonwoo's forehead, a gesture both tender and full of unspoken pain.

"Sleep," Taehoon whispered. "You need to rest."

Yeonwoo's breathing evened out, and Taehoon sat there for a long moment, watching him. He looked so peaceful in sleep, so different from the chaotic mess he had become when he was awake. Taehoon sighed and stood up, feeling the weight of the night settle on his shoulders.

But his mission wasn't over. He had promised himself he would get Yeonwoo out of this, and that meant collecting the evidence he needed. Taehoon moved quietly around the room, taking careful note of everything. His phone camera, hidden discreetly in his jacket, caught footage of everything he had seen tonight—the drugs, the transactions, the people involved.

He would turn it all over to his superiors, but he would also find a way to shield Yeonwoo from the worst of it. Yeonwoo didn't deserve to be punished for this life he had been dragged into. He was a victim, just like so many others, and Taehoon would do whatever it took to protect him.

After gathering what he needed, Taehoon paused at the door, glancing back at Yeonwoo's sleeping form one last time. His heart ached, but there was a flicker of hope now. Maybe, just maybe, he could still save Yeonwoo from the darkness that had consumed him.

With a determined breath, Taehoon left the room, quietly closing the door behind him.

_______

Ji Yeonwoo sat in the dimly lit room, the faint glow from the CCTV monitor casting shadows across his face. His hand hovered over the mouse, hesitating for just a moment before he clicked play. He already knew what he would see—he could feel it deep in his bones—but there was a twisted compulsion in him to witness the evidence. To see just how far he had fallen.

The grainy footage flickered to life, showing the events of the previous night. He saw himself, slumped in his wheelchair, high out of his mind, barely coherent. Han Jiwon, the new server, was there too—carrying him, speaking to him softly, refusing... refusing the things Yeonwoo had so casually offered. 

Yeonwoo's chest tightened as he watched the interaction unfold. He cringed as the broken version of himself reached for Jiwon, asking him to strip, to have sex, offering drugs like they were a part of the normal exchange. His lips parted in disbelief, disgust bubbling up in his throat. Who was that man on the screen? Certainly not Ji Yeonwoo. Not the boy who had once been the top student in school, the one destined for greatness.

But this was the reality now.

The man on the screen was a broken, hollow version of himself, one who clung to drugs, alcohol, and hollow pleasures to drown out the pain. Yeonwoo had known he was lost, but seeing it in real-time, from an outside perspective, made it impossible to ignore. He pressed pause, his finger trembling over the mouse, and stared at the frozen image of his own face—gaunt, lifeless, unrecognizable.

He clenched his jaw, forcing down the wave of nausea rising inside him. Han Jiwon... no, not Jiwon. Taehoon. It had to be him. The moment he had first seen the new server, something had felt off, but now it was undeniable. Yeonwoo had seen Taehoon's face every day for years, even if it had been through the warped lens of his memories. He recognized him. 

And yet, Taehoon had pretended. Pretended not to know him. Pretended to care. 

A bitter laugh escaped Yeonwoo's lips as he leaned back in his chair, rubbing his face with both hands. Of course, Taehoon had refused him. Even now, Taehoon was playing the hero, acting like he wanted to save him. But Yeonwoo knew better. He knew exactly where this was headed.

Taehoon was going to turn him in. It was just a matter of time.

He couldn't blame him. After all, Yeonwoo had done this to himself. The drugs, the shady deals, the people he surrounded himself with—they had all led him down this path, and now there was no turning back. He knew he was on borrowed time. The authorities would catch up with him sooner or later, and when they did, his life would be over.

But Yeonwoo had already made up his mind. He wouldn't rot away in a cell, waiting for the justice system to decide his fate. He would take matters into his own hands. The moment they came for him, he would end it—clean, simple. A final escape from the mess his life had become.

There was no point in running. No point in trying to salvage what was left of his existence. Taehoon had seen the worst of him, and after last night, Yeonwoo knew there was nothing worth saving. Not anymore.

With a deep breath, Yeonwoo closed the CCTV footage, unable to bear watching it any longer. He stood up, hands grabbing for his cane, his body aching from the weight of his thoughts, and limped toward the window. The faint light of morning had begun to filter through the curtains, casting a pale glow over the city beyond. It was quiet, peaceful—so different from the chaos that raged inside him.

Yeonwoo's eyes drifted to the news broadcast playing on a muted TV screen across the room. The headline caught his attention.

Breaking: YouTuber Yoo Hobin Marries Long-Time Partner Choi Bomi

His heart skipped a beat as he stared at the screen. A picture of Choi Bomi, his first love, radiant in her wedding gown, flashed across the screen, her arm linked with Yoo Hobin's as they smiled for the cameras. Hobin, the YouTube star. Hobin, Taehoon's best friend. The man Yeonwoo had once known from high school, now a rising celebrity and beloved figure.

Yeonwoo's gaze lingered on Bomi. She had been one of his closest friends in high school. They had studied together, laughed together, shared dreams of the future. Seeing her now, married, successful, happy—it felt like a distant reminder of a life he could never have again.

But it was Taehoon that weighed most heavily on his mind.

Taehoon would be there. At the wedding. Yeonwoo clenched his fists, a wave of bitterness washing over him. He couldn't avoid it any longer. The confrontation that had been brewing in his mind for so long was inevitable now. He had been avoiding Taehoon, dodging his gaze, pretending he didn't care. But deep down, he needed answers. He needed to know why Taehoon had refused him, why he had turned away from their friendship all those years ago.

Why Taehoon had abandoned him.

It had been so long since their high school days, and yet the wounds still felt fresh. Back then, Yeonwoo had reached out to Taehoon, hoping to form some kind of bond, a connection. But Taehoon had always been distant, pushing him away, refusing to engage. When Yeonwoo had needed him the most, Taehoon had been nowhere to be found.

Yeonwoo's jaw tightened. He had been afraid then, afraid of what Taehoon's rejection meant. But now... now he didn't care. There was nothing left to lose. If he was going to confront Taehoon, it would be on his terms. He would face him, demand the answers he had been too cowardly to ask before. And then he would end it, once and for all.

As the plan formed in his mind, a strange sense of calm settled over Yeonwoo. It was as if everything had been leading to this moment. The drugs, the bar, the sleepless nights—it all felt like prelude to the final act. He would confront Taehoon, and then... well, then there wouldn't be anything left to worry about.

Yeonwoo turned away from the window and made his way back to his desk. His fingers hovered over his phone for a moment before he typed a quick message.

Meet me after Bomi's wedding. We need to talk.

He didn't send it to Taehoon directly. No, that would be too obvious. Instead, he sent it through one of the bar's contacts, a roundabout way to ensure Taehoon would get the message without anyone connecting the dots too quickly. 

Yeonwoo's hands were shaking as he put the phone down, but there was a strange clarity in his mind now. He had set the wheels in motion. There was no turning back.

The day would come soon enough, and when it did, Yeonwoo would be ready to end things—between him and Taehoon, between him and his past, between him and the life he could no longer bear to live.

And when they came to arrest him, to take him away, he would finally be free.

_______

Taehoon stared at the message on his phone, his heart thudding painfully in his chest. The message was simple, vague even—just a request to meet after Bomi's wedding. But Taehoon's instincts screamed that something was wrong. His cover might be blown.

He had gone undercover at Nightshade with a clear goal: gather enough evidence to bring down the illegal drug operation Yeonwoo was tangled up in. But this sudden contact, out of the blue, set off alarms in his mind. Yeonwoo wasn't the same person he used to be, and Taehoon had no idea what he was thinking, especially after everything that had happened the other night.

Did Yeonwoo recognize him? Had he already figured it out?

Taehoon exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair as he sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the wedding invitation lying on his nightstand. Choi Bomi and Yoo Hobin. It had been a long time since Taehoon had attended any event as himself, without the mask of his undercover persona. The thought of seeing Hobin again brought a mix of warmth and regret, but it also reminded him of the stakes.

He would have to play his part carefully. If Yeonwoo had figured out who he was, Taehoon couldn't afford to make any mistakes. But if he hadn't, if this was just another twisted game Yeonwoo was playing, he needed to stay sharp.

The wedding was beautiful. The early autumn breeze was crisp, and the garden where the ceremony took place was draped in warm sunlight. Taehoon stood near the back, blending in with the crowd, his eyes scanning the room for one face—Yeonwoo's.

He spotted him eventually, lingering near the edge of the reception, his wheelchair pushed back into the shadows where he could watch without being seen. Taehoon's heart twisted painfully at the sight. Yeonwoo looked distant, hollow, as if the light of the day had no place in his world.

For a moment, their eyes met, and Taehoon fought to keep his face neutral. He forced himself to react like anyone would—surprise, perhaps a flash of guilt for not having spoken in so long. But there was no time for them to interact. Before he could even approach Yeonwoo, Hobin appeared, pulling Taehoon into a hug that was so tight, it left little room for anything else.

"Taehoon! You made it!" Hobin's grin was infectious, his happiness radiating through the room. Taehoon couldn't help but smile back, even though the weight of Yeonwoo's presence loomed in the back of his mind.

"Yeah, I wouldn't miss it," Taehoon replied, but his thoughts were already elsewhere.

Yeonwoo. Why was he here? Why now?

As Hobin led him deeper into the crowd of guests, Taehoon kept glancing back, hoping for another chance to talk to Yeonwoo, but it never came. He was swept into conversation after conversation, the warmth of the event a stark contrast to the cold knot forming in his stomach.

_______

That night, Taehoon stood outside the secluded meeting spot where Yeonwoo had asked him to come. His heart pounded, uncertainty gnawing at him. He wasn't just afraid that Yeonwoo had uncovered his identity—there was something deeper, more personal that terrified him. He was about to confront a friend he had abandoned. And after seeing Yeonwoo in the state he had, it was impossible to ignore the guilt that had been festering in him for years.

Yeonwoo was already there, his back turned to Taehoon as he sat in his wheelchair, gazing out at the empty night. The city lights flickered in the distance, but here, in this desolate spot, it felt like they were completely alone.

Taehoon took a deep breath and approached.

"Ji Yeonwoo," he called out softly, his voice steady, though his nerves were anything but.

Yeonwoo didn't turn immediately. When he did, Taehoon noticed the deadness in his eyes, the complete absence of the vibrant boy he had once known. The silence between them stretched out, heavy and thick, before Yeonwoo finally spoke.

"So, you're Han Jiwon, huh?" Yeonwoo's voice was quiet, emotionless, and yet, it cut straight through Taehoon like a blade.

Taehoon's blood ran cold. His cover was blown.

"I—" Taehoon stammered, his carefully crafted persona crumbling in an instant. There was no point in lying anymore. Yeonwoo knew. He had probably known for a while.

"I'm sorry," Taehoon said, voice thick with guilt. "I didn't want it to be like this."

Yeonwoo let out a bitter laugh. "Didn't you? What, Taehoon? Did you come here to play the hero? To save the day?" His eyes darkened, his lips curling into something between a smirk and a sneer. "You've been trying to 'save' me for a while now, haven't you?"

Taehoon felt a lump form in his throat. "I care about you, Yeonwoo. I always have." He knelt down beside the wheelchair. "I never wanted things to end up this way."

Yeonwoo's eyes flickered with something unreadable before they hardened again. "If you cared, you wouldn't have abandoned me when I needed you most. You wouldn't have run away like a coward."

Taehoon clenched his fists, shame washing over him. "I know... I know I messed up. I should have been there. But I'm here now, Yeonwoo. I'm here to help you."

"Help me?" Yeonwoo scoffed, his voice dripping with venom. "I'm beyond help, Taehoon. Don't you get it? This... this is who I am now."

Taehoon shook his head, his heart aching. "No, it's not. You're still Ji Yeonwoo. You're still the person I knew. You don't have to be trapped in this life. You can still get out."

Yeonwoo stared at him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he shook his head. "No, Taehoon. I'm done. There's no rehab, no redemption for me. I've made my choices."

Taehoon's breath hitched. "You can't mean that."

Yeonwoo leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You want to save me from this misery, Taehoon? Then do me a favor. Just shoot me."

Taehoon blinked. "What?"

Yeonwoo's smile was cold, hollow. "End it. Right here. You'd be doing me a favor."

"No," Taehoon breathed. "I won't... I can't do that."

"Then stop pretending you're trying to save me," Yeonwoo snapped. "You have no idea what it's like to live like this. You can't save me, Taehoon. No one can."

Taehoon's hands trembled as he reached for Yeonwoo, his voice breaking. "I won't give up on you. Please, Yeonwoo, just... just give me a chance."

But Yeonwoo only looked at him with tired eyes, eyes that had seen too much, felt too much, and given up on the idea of ever being whole again.

"I'm already gone, Taehoon," Yeonwoo whispered. "You should've saved me back then... when I still had something to live for."

Taehoon felt tears well up in his eyes, but there was nothing left to say. Only the silence of the night, and the unbearable weight of Yeonwoo's words.

_______

The sterile air of the holding cell felt suffocating, even for Taehoon, who stood outside the bars, watching as Ji Yeonwoo sat hunched over on the cold bench. His hands were cuffed, his head hung low. 

Taehoon had never wanted it to come to this. Arresting Yeonwoo had been the last thing on his mind, but it had become unavoidable. Yeonwoo's suicide attempt was too close a call—Taehoon had found him on the brink, unconscious in his dingy apartment, the pill bottles scattered like broken promises. Taehoon had saved him, but now Yeonwoo was a prisoner of his own making. 

Taehoon took a step forward, gripping the bars of the cell tightly. The cool metal stung his palms. He had been waiting for this moment, a confrontation that was years in the making, but now that he stood there, the words didn't come easily.

Yeonwoo looked up, his gaze empty. His cheek bore the bruise from Taehoon's earlier kick—a last-ditch effort to snap him out of his self-destruction, but Yeonwoo had barely flinched. It was as if pain didn't register for him anymore.

"What do you want, Taehoon?" Yeonwoo's voice was hoarse, exhausted. He leaned back against the wall, staring at Taehoon with a hollow indifference that sent a chill down Taehoon's spine.

Taehoon took a deep breath. "I want you to stop this, Ji Yeonwoo. To stop running away from life, from yourself."

Yeonwoo let out a mirthless chuckle, shaking his head. "There's nothing left for me. Nothing to stop. I've already lost everything. You should've just let me die."

Fury flashed in Taehoon's eyes, and before he could stop himself, he unlocked the cell door and stormed inside. Without warning, he delivered a swift taekwondo kick, his foot connecting with Yeonwoo's head—not hard enough to seriously injure, but enough to knock some sense into him.

Yeonwoo didn't even react beyond a small wince. He stared up at Taehoon, his expression unchanging, as if daring him to do more. But Taehoon's face softened as he crouched down in front of him, his anger dissipating into something more painful.

"I'm serious, Yeonwoo," Taehoon said. "Tell me what you want. Anything. I'll give it to you. Just... just stop trying to destroy yourself."

Yeonwoo's lips twisted into a bitter smile. "I don't want anything, Taehoon. That's the problem. There's nothing left that I care about."

"That's not true," Taehoon shot back, his frustration bubbling up. "You can't tell me that you don't care about anything. You're still here, Yeonwoo. You're still alive, and that means there's something left."

Yeonwoo let out a deep, shaky breath, his gaze dropping to the floor. "You don't get it," he murmured. "I'm not worth it. I've never been worth it. I'm not worth being friends with... not worth being saved."

Taehoon's chest tightened at the sound of those words. He had heard similar things from Yeonwoo before, but hearing them now, in this stark, empty cell, it felt so much more devastating. He grabbed Yeonwoo by the shoulders, forcing him to meet his gaze.

"No," Taehoon said firmly. "You've always been worth it. It wasn't you, Yeonwoo. It was me. I was a coward. I was afraid you'd end up like Dowoon, miserable and dead... and now look what's happened." His voice broke as he spoke, the guilt finally pouring out of him. "I was scared of losing you, so I pushed you away. But I never stopped caring about you."

Yeonwoo's eyes flickered, the faintest trace of emotion breaking through his otherwise blank expression. "Why do you care, Taehoon? Why does it even matter anymore?"

Taehoon's grip on Yeonwoo's shoulders tightened, his voice trembling. "I've always cared about you. I didn't show it the right way back then, but I do now. I care about you more than I can put into words."

Yeonwoo stared at him, disbelief in his eyes. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The silence hung heavy between them, the weight of years of pain and regret threatening to crush them both.

Then, slowly, Taehoon leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Yeonwoo's forehead.

Yeonwoo's breath hitched at the gesture, and Taehoon pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes. "I'll give you whatever you need," Taehoon whispered. "If you need a friend, I'll be that. If you need someone to love you... I'll be that too. Just let me help you."

Yeonwoo's eyes glistened with unshed tears, his defenses cracking as he shook his head weakly. "I don't need anything, Taehoon... I don't even know how to be saved anymore."

Taehoon's voice softened even more, his hands cradling Yeonwoo's face. "You don't have to know how. You just need to let someone be there for you. Let me be that person."

A tear slipped down Yeonwoo's cheek, and for the first time in what felt like forever, a tiny spark of something—hope, maybe—flickered in his eyes. "I don't deserve you, Taehoon."

Taehoon's lips curved into a sad, bittersweet smile. "Maybe neither of us deserve each other. But I'm here, and I'm not leaving."

Yeonwoo's breath shuddered as he let himself lean into Taehoon's touch, his resistance crumbling. "I... I don't want to be alone anymore," he whispered brokenly. "I just... I need someone. I need someone to love me."

Taehoon's heart clenched painfully at the raw vulnerability in Yeonwoo's voice. "Then I'll be that person," he promised softly. "Whether as a friend, or something more... if you'll have me."

The words hung in the air, and for the first time in years, Yeonwoo allowed himself to feel something beyond the numbness. Slowly, tentatively, he leaned forward, pressing his lips to Taehoon's in a kiss that was soft and sad, filled with all the things left unsaid between them.

It wasn't a kiss of passion, but of desperation—of two broken souls trying to find some semblance of solace in each other. Taehoon held Yeonwoo close, pouring all the love and regret he had into that moment, hoping it would be enough to reach him.

When they finally pulled apart, Yeonwoo's eyes were brimming with tears, but there was a faint light in them—a glimmer of something that Taehoon hadn't seen in a long time.

"Thank you," Yeonwoo whispered, his voice barely audible.

Taehoon went in for another kiss, his own tears threatening to spill. "You're not alone anymore, Yeonwoo. I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere."

The sound of footsteps echoed down the hall, signaling that Yeonwoo was about to be taken away. But in that moment, they held onto each other, knowing that even though the road ahead would be long and painful, they had finally found something worth fighting for.

And for the first time in years, Yeonwoo didn't feel completely lost in this world.