Love wasn't supposed to hurt this much—at least, that's what Yuma kept telling himself.

*****
"Nobody gave a damn about my existence, The one person who did, died for me to survive in this shitty world. Love isn't beautiful. It's a curse!"
 "When you love someone—truly love them—they become part of you. Their happiness is your happiness, and their sadness is your sadness. So sometimes that means love hurts."
*****

The city stretched before them, bright and alive, but up here on the dorm balcony, it felt like a different world. A quieter one. A lonelier one.

Yuma hadn't planned on being found. He never did. But Jo had a way of finding him anyway.

"You disappeared again."

Jo's voice cut through the silence, not demanding, not reprimanding—just there. Like he always was.

He leaned against the railing beside Yuma, hands shoved into his hoodie pocket. "You okay?"

A scoff. "Do I look okay?"

Jo didn't answer. Instead, he looked up at the night sky, the stars barely visible against the pollution of city lights. He waited, knowing Yuma needed time.

Yuma didn't turn. He kept his gaze locked on the skyline, arms wrapped tightly around his knees. "Didn't realize I needed permission to be alone."

"You don't." Jo leaned against the railing beside him. "But you could at least tell someone before pulling a vanishing act."

Yuma scoffed, shaking his head. "What difference does it make?"

Jo let out a small sigh. He didn't argue, didn't try to force Yuma to explain himself. He just stood there, waiting.

And Yuma hated it.

Because the waiting worked.

Because the silence stretched too long, and something inside him cracked.

"Nobody gave a damn about my existence," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "The one person who did, died for me to survive in this shitty world." His grip tightened around his knees, nails digging into the fabric of his sweatpants. "Love isn't beautiful. It's a curse."

The words hung heavy between them, thick with unspoken grief.

Jo didn't speak right away, but when he did, his voice was softer than Yuma had ever heard it.

"When you love someone—truly love them—they become part of you. Their happiness is your happiness, and their sadness is your sadness." He turned his head, gaze steady, unwavering. "So sometimes that means love hurts."

Yuma finally looked at him, expression unreadable. "That's a pretty way to say love sucks."

Jo let out a quiet chuckle. "Maybe. But you don't really believe that."

Yuma frowned. "And why's that?"

Jo shifted, turning to face him more fully. "Because you wouldn't be here if you did."

Yuma inhaled sharply.

"You say love is a curse, but isn't it also the reason you're still here?"

A lump formed in Yuma's throat. He swallowed hard, looking away. "Maybe."

Jo tilted his head, watching him. "Do you regret loving them?"

The question punched through him harder than it should have. Yuma's immediate response was yes—yes, he regretted it, because if he had never cared, he wouldn't have felt this kind of pain.

But...

"No," he admitted quietly, voice raw.

Jo nodded, as if he already knew the answer. "Then maybe love isn't the curse. Maybe the real curse is trying to run from it."

Yuma exhaled, shaking his head. "You always talk like you know everything."

"I don't," Jo said. "But I know you."

Yuma inhaled sharply, fingers twitching. That was the thing about Jo—he never said things to make you feel better. He told you the truth, even when it hurt.

Especially when it hurt.

"...Maybe." Yuma exhaled, turning away again. "But it doesn't mean I want it."

Jo let out a quiet chuckle. "Too late, idiot. You already have it."

Yuma frowned, glancing back. "What?"

"You have me." Jo's voice was firm, like it was the simplest truth in the world. "And the rest of us. Whether you want us or not."

The weight of those words settled in Yuma's chest, heavy and suffocating—but not in a bad way.

For the first time in a long time, Yuma wasn't sure what to say.

So he said nothing at all.

"You think pushing people away will protect you," Jo continued. "That if you don't let anyone in, you won't have to feel this again."

Yuma said nothing.

"But that's not how it works."

Yuma let out a bitter laugh. "And what, you're gonna teach me?"

Jo shrugged. "Nah. You're figuring it out yourself."

Yuma narrowed his eyes. "You're so damn smug, you know that?"

Jo grinned. "I know."

For a moment, there was nothing but silence again. But this time, it didn't feel suffocating.

It felt... lighter.

"...So what now?" Yuma finally asked.

Jo exhaled, rubbing his neck. "Now?" He glanced at Yuma. "You stop pretending you don't care."

Yuma opened his mouth, ready to argue—but then Jo reached out, flicking him lightly on the forehead.

"Ow—what the hell?"

"See?" Jo smirked. "If you really didn't care, you wouldn't react."

Yuma glared. "I hate you."

Jo's smirk softened into something warmer. "Nah, you don't."

And maybe... just maybe... Yuma didn't.