Chapter 23

The apartment was quiet except for the hum of the city below, muffled by the thick walls. Min-ho sat on the couch, leaning back, his legs sprawled out lazily in front of him. Across the room, Ju-woon sat in his usual spot, legs tucked under him, phone in hand, staring at the screen.

It had been a long walk, a long night, and neither of them seemed in a hurry to go to bed. They had gotten back a while ago, but now they just sat there, in the quiet, trying not to face whatever the hell had shifted between them.

Min-ho couldn't stop glancing at Ju-woon. His gaze kept straying back to the way Ju-woon's hair fell into his eyes when he looked down at his phone, how his lips curled into a faint smirk at something he saw, the subtle way his jaw tightened when he focused too hard. There was something different tonight, and Min-ho couldn't put his finger on it. It was like everything he'd been doing to push Ju-woon away—to annoy him, to get under his skin—had stopped working. Like everything he thought he knew about their dynamic had cracked open.

Min-ho shifted in his seat, fingers tapping the side of his leg in a restless rhythm. He needed to distract himself. Needed to focus on anything but the heat in his chest. But it didn't work. His thoughts circled back to Ju-woon, every little movement, every quiet breath. His chest felt tight, his mind buzzing.

The worst part? He didn't know why it bothered him so much. Why it felt like his insides were unraveling every time Ju-woon looked at him with that damn, unreadable expression. Why, when Ju-woon said something that would've normally made Min-ho roll his eyes or laugh it off, it now felt like it was lodged somewhere deep in his chest, making him feel things he shouldn't.

"So, what now?" Min-ho broke the silence, but his voice didn't come out the way he wanted. It was too strained, too full of a tension he wasn't ready to admit.

Ju-woon glanced over, his gaze lazy, but still piercing. "I don't know. What do you want to do?"

Min-ho shrugged, though it felt half-hearted. "Nothing. I guess." But that wasn't the truth. There was something else hanging between them, and he couldn't shake it off.

Another silence stretched out, thick and uncomfortable. Min-ho kept his eyes on Ju-woon, his stomach twisting. God, why was it so hard to breathe when Ju-woon was near? Why was he noticing every little thing—the way Ju-woon's fingers gripped his phone, the way his lips parted slightly when he was thinking?

Min-ho couldn't stop staring. Every time Ju-woon shifted, it felt like a tug in his gut. He shifted in his seat again, trying to distract himself, but he couldn't. His brain kept circling around the same thing. Ju-woon.

Fuck.

Min-ho wasn't sure what to do with himself anymore. He had never been one for feelings—especially not these kinds of feelings. His mind tried to fight it, to tell him it was just the alcohol from earlier or the tension between them, but every time Ju-woon laughed or threw a sarcastic remark his way, something inside of Min-ho shifted, like a switch flicking on that he couldn't turn off.

He found himself wanting to be closer. To see if Ju-woon would flinch at the attention. To see how far he could push before the walls Ju-woon kept up finally cracked.

But now? Now he wasn't so sure.

His heart hammered in his chest, and he couldn't figure out why. His chest felt tight, his skin too hot, and his stomach churned.

Why did it bother him? Why did it feel like a punch to the gut every time Ju-woon barely acknowledged him, when before he would've just laughed it off? It was stupid. He was being stupid.

Min-ho leaned back against the couch, eyes trained on the ceiling, trying to gather his thoughts. This wasn't supposed to be happening. He was supposed to just fuck with Ju-woon, get under his skin, keep things complicated. That was how they worked—enemies.

But this?

This was... different.

And it was driving him crazy.

His mind raced, circling around and around, but it kept coming back to one thing. One question.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair in frustration. His heart skipped a beat, his breath caught in his throat. "Do I like him?"

The realization hit him like a freight train. There was no denying it now. The way his chest tightened every time Ju-woon spoke, the way his stomach twisted when Ju-woon smirked, the way his skin felt too tight when Ju-woon was near.

Min-ho liked him.

And it pissed him off.

He didn't want to feel this way. Didn't want to care. But here he was, sitting in Ju-woon's fucking apartment, staring at the guy who had driven him nuts for months, and he realized, with shocking clarity, that this wasn't just some stupid rivalry. This wasn't just two assholes pushing each other's buttons for fun.

Min-ho wasn't just annoyed by Ju-woon. He wasn't just pissed off.

He... liked him?

It felt like a punch to the gut, like everything inside of him had been flipped upside down. His heart was pounding too loudly in his chest, his palms suddenly sweaty, and he couldn't bring himself to look at Ju-woon, even though he was sitting right across from him.

What the hell was happening?

Min-ho closed his eyes for a second, letting the weight of the realization settle over him. He felt exposed, like something had ripped open inside of him, and there was no going back. This wasn't a joke anymore.

It wasn't just the playful teasing, the tension that could be cut with a knife. This was... real.

"Shit," he muttered again, louder this time, his voice rougher than before. His hands were shaking, but he didn't know what to do about it.

The worst part was that he didn't even know if Ju-woon felt the same. And part of him, the part that was still stubborn as hell, didn't even want to think about it.

But that didn't change the fact that it was true.

Min-ho liked Ju-woon..

And that scared the hell out of him.

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