Arin didn't move.
The door had closed minutes ago—maybe longer—but the sound of it still echoed in his mind like it had just happened.
It's over.
The words felt unreal.
Like something that shouldn't belong to him.
The apartment was too quiet now.
No clattering dishes.
No soft humming while cooking.
No presence that made this small, worn-out place feel like home.
Just silence.
Arin sat on the couch, his hands resting loosely on his knees, eyes fixed on nothing.
He hadn't tried to stop Ren.
He hadn't chased him.
He hadn't even said goodbye.
"…I don't love you anymore."
Arin let out a quiet, bitter laugh.
"Liar."
The word slipped out automatically.
Because if there was one thing he was sure of—
Ren was a terrible liar.
He leaned back slowly, resting his head against the wall.
His chest felt tight.
Not enough to break him.
But enough to hurt.
"…So that's how it ends."
His eyes drifted toward the small table.
Two plates still sat there.
One slightly messier than the other.
Ren's.
Arin closed his eyes.
And just like that—
The past came rushing in.
"I like someone."
He had said it so casually back then.
Like it was nothing.
Like it wouldn't change everything.
His parents had looked at him in silence.
The air in the room had felt… heavy.
"Who?" his mother asked finally.
Arin hesitated.
Just for a second.
Then—
"A boy."
That was the moment everything shifted.
His father's expression hardened instantly.
His mother's face fell, disappointment flashing clearly in her eyes.
"…This isn't funny, Arin."
"I'm not joking."
The argument started there.
Sharp words. Raised voices. Accusations.
"You'll ruin everything!"
"It's just a phase!"
"Think about your future!"
But Arin didn't back down.
Not even once.
"I love him."
Those three words had felt so simple.
So certain.
But to his parents—
They were unacceptable.
Days turned into weeks.
The tension never left.
Every conversation became an argument.
Every silence became unbearable.
"Who is he?"
That question came again one night.
Different tone this time.
Colder.
"His name is Ren."
His father scoffed.
"Family?"
"He's… alone."
That made it worse.
"No background. No status. No value," his father muttered.
Arin's fists clenched.
"He has more value than anyone you know."
Silence.
Dangerous silence.
"…If you're so sure about him," his mother said slowly, "then prove it."
Arin frowned.
"What do you mean?"
His father leaned forward slightly.
"Leave everything."
Arin blinked.
"…What?"
"No money. No support. No name."
His mother continued calmly, "If you can live with him for three years without using a single thing from this family… then we'll consider it."
Consider it.
Not accept.
Just… consider.
Arin didn't hesitate.
"Fine."
And just like that—
He walked away from everything.
The money.
The comfort.
The life he had always known.
For Ren.
Back then, it hadn't felt like a sacrifice.
It had felt… right.
Because Ren was worth it.
Arin opened his eyes slowly.
The ceiling above him looked the same.
Nothing had changed.
And yet—
Everything had.
"…Three years."
He had lasted.
He had done everything they asked.
Lived in a small apartment.
Ate cheap food.
Wore simple clothes.
Hid his identity.
Not once did he complain.
Not once did he regret it.
Because every day—
Ren was there.
Laughing.
Arguing.
Caring.
Loving him.
"…And it still wasn't enough."
Arin's expression darkened slightly.
When the three years ended, he went back.
Not because he wanted to.
But because he believed—
This time, they would accept it.
He was wrong.
"I never agreed to this."
His father's voice had been cold.
Final.
"You said—"
"I said I would consider it."
His mother avoided his gaze.
"…We found someone suitable."
Arin's stomach dropped.
"What?"
"A son from a respectable family."
Arin stared at them.
"You're setting me up?"
"With someone who understands your… preferences," his father added.
It felt worse than before.
Not because they didn't accept him.
But because they were trying to replace Ren.
"I'm not doing this."
"You don't have a choice."
"I always have a choice."
The argument exploded again.
Louder.
Harsher.
But this time—
Arin felt something break inside him.
Not because of them.
But because of what came next.
"…Does he even know who you are?"
That question.
That one question.
Arin froze.
Because the answer was—
No.
He had never told Ren the truth.
Not about his family.
Not about his money.
Not about anything.
At first, it was because it didn't matter.
Then—
It became too late.
"What do you think will happen when he finds out?" his father continued. "That he's been living with someone like you?"
Arin clenched his jaw.
"He won't care."
His father laughed.
Cold.
Sharp.
"People like him always care."
That sentence stayed with him.
Even after he left.
Even after he ignored everything else.
It stayed.
Back in the present, Arin exhaled slowly.
"…People like him."
Was that what Ren thought too?
His mind drifted back to earlier that day.
The store.
The man beside him.
Another "suitable" match.
Another attempt to control his life.
Arin had gone there unwillingly.
Forced into a meeting he didn't want.
Listening to conversations he didn't care about.
And then—
For a brief moment—
He thought he saw someone outside.
But when he looked again—
There was no one.
"…So you saw that."
A bitter realization settled in.
Ren must have misunderstood.
Of course he did.
And Arin—
Did nothing to stop it.
"…I could have explained."
But he didn't.
Because deep down—
He was afraid.
Afraid that Ren would look at him differently.
Afraid that everything they had built would collapse.
Afraid that—
"…You'd think I was using you."
Arin let out a quiet laugh.
"Funny."
Because now—
That's exactly what he thought.
"…You're tired."
"…I don't love you anymore."
The words echoed again.
Arin's hands tightened slightly.
"So that's it?"
His voice was low.
Empty.
"You stayed all this time…"
"…and then left when you realized I had money?"
It made sense.
Didn't it?
The timing.
The distance.
The sudden change.
Everything pointed to one conclusion.
"…You just wanted what I had."
Arin closed his eyes.
He should be angry.
He should be furious.
He should hate him.
But instead—
"…Why does it still hurt?"
His voice broke slightly.
Because no matter how much he tried to convince himself—
He couldn't forget.
The way Ren smiled.
The way he cared.
The way he stayed.
Those things weren't fake.
They couldn't be.
"…You wouldn't have lasted that long."
Three years.
Through everything.
No one would stay that long for money.
"…So what was real?"
The question lingered.
Unanswered.
Arin leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
His head dropped slightly.
"I should hate you."
Silence.
"But I don't."
And that…
That was the worst part.
Because even now—
After everything—
"I still love you."
The words fell quietly into the empty room.
No one heard them.
No one answered.
And for the first time—
Arin felt it.
Not anger.
Not frustration.
But something much heavier.
Loss.