𝟣𝟤 : 𝟢𝟢 ー 𝖰𝗎𝖾𝖾𝗇𝗌, 𝖭𝖾𝗐 𝖸𝗈𝗋𝗄.
twomocns

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Lorien had never been nervous to talk about anything. He was an outspoken and bluntly honest person. But when it came to the conversation he was about to have with Ryuko, his nerves were through the roof. It had been at least three months since they last talked. He knew Ryuko was busy with promotions and award shows coming up, so he hadn't wanted to bother him.

But with the recent breakthrough Lorien had with his mother, he'd started reflecting on his life and his relationships. There were so many people he owed apologies to—people he had pushed away, hurt, or neglected because he hadn't known how to handle his own emotions. And among those people was Ryuko.

Sitting on the floor of the apartment, Lorien stared at his phone. The contact name stared back at him: I ❤️ Ryu. It was a reminder of what they once had, a name that held so many memories and unspoken feelings. What weighed on him more was the conversation that had ended things—mutual on the surface, but filled with emotions neither of them had fully understood at the time. Maybe reaching out was a good way to start off the new year, even if he wasn't sure where it would lead.

Lorien let out a shaky breath and ran a hand through his hair. The past few months had been a whirlwind of self-reflection, realizations, and painful truths he couldn't ignore anymore. He had spent so long blaming himself for the breakup that he hadn't stopped to consider what it might have done to Ryuko.

Back then, Lorien had thought he was doing Ryuko a favor by breaking things off. He'd told himself that Ryuko deserved someone better, someone more emotionally available and less weighed down by their own struggles. But now, sitting here with the phone in his hand, he wasn't so sure. What if Ryuko had just needed him to stay?

The urge to call was overwhelming, but the fear of hearing Ryuko's voice—of hearing disappointment, or worse, indifference—was paralyzing. Lorien couldn't help but wonder if Ryuko had moved on. Maybe he'd deleted Lorien's number by now or changed the contact name to something like "Don't Answer." The thought made his stomach twist.

He tapped the screen, his thumb hovering over the call button. Part of him wanted to text instead, to avoid the vulnerability of hearing Ryuko's voice. But he knew a text would never be enough. Ryuko deserved more than that.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Lorien pressed the button. The line rang once. Twice. By the third ring, panic started to creep in. What if Ryuko didn't answer? What if he ignored the call entirely?

But then, the call connected.

"Hello?" Ryuko's voice came through, soft and cautious, like he wasn't sure who would be calling him this late.

Lorien swallowed hard, his throat dry. "Ryu, it's me," he said, his voice shakier than he wanted it to be. There was a pause. Then Ryuko spoke again, quieter this time. "Hyung?"

"Yeah," Lorien said, gripping his phone tightly. "It's me. I hope I'm not bothering you."

"No, it's fine," Ryuko said, though his tone held a hint of surprise. "I just... wasn't expecting to hear from you." Lorien's chest tightened. "I know. I'm sorry for calling out of the blue." He hesitated, the weight of everything he wanted to say pressing down on him. "I just... I needed to talk to you."

"Is something wrong?" Ryuko asked, concern lacing his voice.

"No, not exactly," Lorien said. He took a deep breath, steeling himself. "I just... I wanted to say I'm sorry. For everything."

There was a beat of silence on the other end, and Lorien's heart felt like it might stop. "For what?" Ryuko finally asked, his voice quiet but steady.

"For the way I ended things," Lorien said, his voice trembling. "For how I treated you. I was so caught up in my own head, in my own issues, that I didn't think about what it would do to you. I thought I was doing the right thing by letting you go, but looking back, I see how selfish I was. You didn't deserve that."

Ryuko didn't respond right away, and Lorien rushed to fill the silence. "I know it's been a while, and maybe you've moved on, but I couldn't keep this to myself anymore. You were so good to me, Ryu. You were patient and kind, and I... I took that for granted. I wasn't ready, and instead of being honest with you, I ran. And I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

"Hyung..." Ryuko's voice cracked, and Lorien could hear the emotion behind it. "Why are you saying this now?"

"Because I've been thinking about you," Lorien admitted, his voice soft. "I've been thinking about us, and everything I did wrong. I just... I needed to tell you how sorry I am. You deserve that much."

There was a shaky breath on the other end, and Lorien's heart ached at the sound. "You didn't have to call, you know," Ryuko said, his voice thick with emotion. "I mean... I appreciate it, but you didn't have to."

"I did," Lorien said firmly. "You were important to me, Ryu. You still are. And I couldn't let this go without saying something. Even if it's too late."

"It's not too late," Ryuko said, his voice trembling. "I never hated you, Hyung. I was hurt, and I was angry, but I understood why you did what you did. I just... I wish you had talked to me about it instead of pushing me away."

"I wish I had too," Lorien said, his voice heavy with regret. "I handled everything wrong, and I hate that I hurt you. You deserved better, Ryu."

The line was quiet for a moment, save for the sound of Ryuko's soft, uneven breaths. "You hurt me," Ryuko finally said, his voice breaking. "But I never stopped caring about you. I couldn't."

Lorien's chest tightened. "I never stopped caring about you either," he admitted. "I don't think I ever will." For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence filled with everything they couldn't put into words. "I missed you, Hyung," Ryuko said softly, his voice raw. Lorien closed his eyes, his throat tightening. "I missed you too."

They talked for a while after that, their words tentative at first but growing warmer as the conversation went on. They reminisced about old times, shared updates about their lives, and even laughed a little. It wasn't the same as it had been before, but it wasn't entirely different either.

When the call finally ended, Lorien sat in silence for a long time, the weight on his chest still there, but somehow less suffocating. He didn't know what the future held for him and Ryuko, whether they could pick up where they left off or if they had moved past that chapter entirely. But one thing was clear—no matter where life took them, Ryuko would always have a place in his heart.

Lorien sat back on the bed, staring blankly at the phone in his hand. The weight of Ryuko's words from the call hung heavily in the air. He'd heard the pain in Ryuko's voice, the subtle crack in his calm façade. Ryuko wasn't angry, but there was so much unspoken between them—emotions tangled in the mess of a relationship that had ended too abruptly, too painfully.

He had always felt like the one in charge. The older one, the one who was supposed to have everything figured out. He was supposed to guide, protect, and be there for Ryuko. But as the relationship went on, the responsibilities piled up—too much for him to carry. Ryuko needed things that Lorien wasn't sure how to provide: reassurance, stability, emotional support, someone who could be the strong pillar while also being vulnerable.

Lorien never wanted to feel like he was letting Ryuko down. He never wanted to feel like he couldn't handle it. But as the weight of everything grew heavier, he realized he wasn't sure how to be the older one anymore. He was just as lost, just as unsure, and he had no idea how to provide the steady hand that Ryuko needed. He wasn't sure how to balance his own struggles while trying to make sure Ryuko felt secure, loved, and cared for.

Maybe that was the problem—he had been so focused on being strong, on holding everything together, that he forgot to check if he was falling apart on the inside.

Lorien ran a hand through his hair, the familiar pang of guilt tightening in his chest. Ryuko had always been understanding, always patient with him, but Lorien could see it now—the moments when Ryuko had quietly waited for him to be the one to fix things, to take the lead, to make sure everything was okay. Ryuko had trusted him to carry the responsibility of their relationship, and Lorien had let that trust slip through his fingers.

Maybe that was what had pushed them to this point—Lorien had been too focused on being the strong one, the one who made sure everything went right, that he never realized how much he was neglecting his own needs. He couldn't handle being the one always keeping things together, never allowing himself the space to be vulnerable, to ask for help, to be the one who needed someone else for a change.

He hadn't been fair to Ryuko. Not in the way that Ryuko deserved. Ryuko needed someone who could show up, not just as the responsible one, but as a partner. Someone who was there for him, not just when things were easy, but when they were messy and complicated. Lorien had failed in that regard. He hadn't been able to show Ryuko that side of himself.

He couldn't fix it all now. The damage was done. But at least he was starting to understand. He had spent so much time running from his own emotions, hiding behind the mask of the older, stronger one, that he forgot how to be real with Ryuko. Maybe, just maybe, that was the first step toward fixing things—understanding that he didn't have to carry everything alone, that he didn't have to be the one to hold it all together all the time.

As the call ended and the silence of his room pressed in around him, Lorien set his phone down, his hands still trembling. He could still feel the weight of Ryuko's words, the quiet sadness that had settled in his voice. Lorien closed his eyes for a moment, his heart aching. He knew Ryuko didn't hate him, but the sadness in his voice said it all—this wasn't easy for him either. And that hurt. Lorien hadn't wanted to cause him pain, hadn't wanted to be the one who walked away.

But in his attempt to protect them both, he'd only left behind a sense of loss, something that now seemed so much bigger than he'd realized. "I'm sorry, Ryu," he whispered into the empty room, his voice barely audible, as though the apology could reach Ryuko somehow, even without him saying it to his face. He felt the sting of regret more sharply than ever, wishing he could have done things differently. Maybe, just maybe, this would be a step toward making things right—if not with Ryuko, then at least with himself. But for now, it was all he could do. And he hoped it was enough.

For now, though, all Lorien could do was reflect on the mistakes he had made, the times he had failed Ryuko, and hope that someday, when they were both ready, they could find a way to be more than just the roles they had tried to play.

But that was the hardest part, wasn't it? Letting go of the need to be perfect and just being... themselves.