Ren stood in front of the apartment door longer than necessary.
The hallway light flickered faintly above him, casting uneven shadows across the worn-out walls. It was the same hallway he had walked through every day for the past two years, yet tonight it felt unfamiliar—like he didn't belong here anymore.
His fingers tightened around the key.
Inside that door was everything he had built with Arin.
Laughter. Silence. Shared meals. Late-night talks. Quiet comfort.
Love.
"…Just one more time," he whispered.
Then he unlocked the door.
The apartment looked exactly the same.
A pair of shoes left carelessly near the entrance. A half-folded blanket on the couch. The faint smell of the cheap air freshener Ren had bought last week.
Everything was normal.
Too normal.
Ren stepped inside, closing the door gently behind him.
For a moment, he just stood there.
Listening.
Waiting.
"You're late."
Ren's heart skipped.
He turned his head.
Arin stood in the kitchen doorway, sleeves slightly rolled up, hair messy like always. There was a small frown on his face, but his eyes softened the moment they landed on Ren.
"You didn't answer my calls."
His voice was calm. Familiar.
The same Arin Ren had always known.
Not the one from the store.
Not the one standing beside someone else.
Just… Arin.
"…I was working," Ren replied quietly.
It wasn't entirely a lie.
Arin sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You should at least text. I worry."
That word again.
Worry.
Ren felt something twist painfully in his chest.
You won't have to worry much longer.
"I made dinner," Arin added, nodding toward the small table.
Ren blinked.
That was unusual.
Arin rarely cooked—not because he couldn't, but because Ren always insisted on doing it himself.
"…You did?"
Arin shrugged. "Don't look so surprised. I can take care of you too, you know."
Take care of you.
Ren almost laughed.
They sat across from each other in silence.
The food was simple—rice, scrambled eggs, and overcooked vegetables. It wasn't perfect.
But Ren ate every bite.
Because it might be the last time.
Arin kept glancing at him.
"You're quiet."
"I'm tired."
"That's not new," Arin said, a hint of concern slipping into his voice. "You've been like this for months."
Ren's hand paused mid-air.
Months.
Six months, to be exact.
"I'm fine," he said quickly.
Too quickly.
Arin frowned slightly, but didn't push further.
That was one of the things Ren loved—and hated—the most about him.
Arin respected his silence.
Even when he shouldn't.
After dinner, Ren stood up and began cleaning.
Routine.
If he kept moving, maybe he wouldn't think.
If he didn't think, maybe it wouldn't hurt.
"Ren."
His name.
Soft.
Careful.
Ren froze.
"We need to talk."
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
Arin went still.
"…That doesn't sound good."
Ren forced a small smile. "It's not."
They moved to the living room.
The dim light cast shadows across Arin's face, making his expression harder to read.
Ren sat down first.
Arin followed, sitting across from him.
The distance felt… wrong.
Ren clasped his hands together to stop them from shaking.
Say it.
Just say it.
"I think…" his voice faltered, "…we should break up."
Silence.
Heavy.
Unforgiving.
Arin blinked once.
Twice.
Then he laughed softly.
"…That's not funny."
"I'm not joking."
The smile disappeared.
"What?"
Ren forced himself to meet his eyes.
"It's over."
"Why?" Arin's voice sharpened slightly. "Where is this coming from?"
Ren swallowed.
He couldn't say the truth.
He couldn't say I'm dying.
He couldn't say I don't want you to watch me disappear.
He couldn't say I love you too much to make you stay.
"…I'm tired," he said instead.
"Of what?"
"Everything."
Arin stood up abruptly.
"That's not an answer."
"It's enough."
"No, it's not!" Arin ran a hand through his hair, frustration clear in every movement. "Did I do something?"
Ren's heart clenched.
Yes.
No.
Maybe.
"I saw you today."
The words slipped out.
Arin froze.
"…Where?"
"The store."
A flicker of something crossed Arin's face.
Surprise.
Then something else.
Something Ren couldn't quite understand.
"I see," Arin murmured.
That was it.
No explanation.
No denial.
Ren laughed softly.
It hurt.
"So you're not even going to explain?"
"What do you want me to say?"
"The truth."
Arin looked away.
And that…
That was enough.
Ren stood up.
"I don't care anymore."
That was a lie.
"I don't want to do this anymore."
Another lie.
"I don't love you anymore."
The biggest lie of all.
Arin's head snapped back toward him.
"No, it's not."
For a moment, they just stared at each other.
Two people standing at the edge of something that was about to collapse.
"…If this is about money—"
"It's not."
"If you're struggling, we can fix it—"
"It's not that!"
Ren's voice cracked.
He turned away quickly.
He couldn't let Arin see his face.
"Then what is it?" Arin's voice dropped, softer now. "Tell me what's wrong, Ren."
Everything.
Everything is wrong.
I'm dying.
I'm scared.
I don't want to leave you.
I don't want you to see me like that.
But instead, Ren said—
"Nothing."
Silence fell again.
This time, it felt final.
"…Fine," Arin said quietly.
That word broke something.
"If that's what you want… I won't stop you."
Ren nodded.
Good.
That's good.
This is easier.
This is better.
"Pack your things," Arin added.
"I already did."
Another pause.
Another crack.
Ren picked up his bag.
It was small.
He didn't have much to take.
Just like he didn't have much time left.
At the door, he stopped.
Just for a second.
"…Take care of yourself," he said.
Arin didn't respond.
Ren opened the door.
And left.
He didn't look back this time.
Not even once.
The night felt colder than before.
Or maybe it was just him.
He went to Kael's apartment the only friend he had since from the childhood, by the time he reached Kael's apartment his legs felt weak.
He knocked twice.
The door opened almost immediately.
"Ren?"
Kael's expression shifted from confusion to concern in seconds.
"Hey… what—"
"I broke up with him."
Kael blinked.
"…You what?"
Ren stepped inside without waiting.
"I ended it."
Kael closed the door slowly.
"…Why?"
Ren dropped his bag onto the floor.
He laughed.
A hollow, empty sound.
"I saw him today," he said. "With someone else."
Kael frowned. "Are you sure—"
"I don't care if I'm sure."
Silence.
Ren leaned against the wall, sliding down until he was sitting on the floor.
"I was going to die anyway."
Kael stiffened.
"Don't say it like that."
"It's the truth."
Ren buried his face in his hands.
"I have a few months, maybe less. What was I supposed to do? Stay? Tell him? Watch him fall apart?"
Kael didn't answer.
Because there was no good answer.
"I couldn't do that to him," Ren whispered.
For the first time that night, his voice truly broke.
"I couldn't make him stay with someone who's going to disappear."
Kael walked over slowly and sat beside him.
"…So you pushed him away instead."
Ren laughed weakly.
"Yeah."
"That doesn't sound easier."
"It's not supposed to be."
Silence filled the room.
Heavy.
Real.
"…You still love him," Kael said quietly.
Ren didn't reply.
He didn't need to.
Because some things didn't need to be said.
And this…
This was one of them.