You Pulled Away..

"Be more careful," he muttered under his breath. "You're important, Jiwon."

My heart skipped.

But before I could even fully process those words, Sunghoon spun around, sharp and purposeful. "Where's the first aid kit?" he snapped, voice louder now, commanding.

The room had fallen into a quiet kind of stillness, and Jay—still sitting halfway in the salon chair—blinked in surprise, then looked around awkwardly. "Uh... I think the stylists have one in the corner drawer?" he offered.

Sunghoon didn't wait. He crossed the room in three quick strides, yanked open the drawer, and returned with the kit in hand.

"Sunghoon—seriously, I'm fine," I tried to insist, reaching to take it from him. "It's not even that bad—"

He ignored me completely, pulling out a burn ointment and gently grabbing my hand again. "Stop talking for once and let me see it."

I sighed, flustered. "You're overreacting."

"And you're underreacting," he bit back, unscrewing the cap and squeezing the cream onto his fingers. "Why are you always like this? Acting like you don't matter."

His voice cracked just slightly at the end, and it made something in my chest ache.

I stayed quiet. Not because I had nothing to say—but because I didn't trust my voice not to shake.

Sunghoon's hands moved slowly as he dabbed the ointment across the reddening skin on my wrist. His touch was careful, like he was afraid I might break. His jaw clenched tight, and I noticed the way he refused to meet my eyes now.

"Hyung...?" Jay's voice broke in, light but clearly confused. "Are you okay?"

Sunghoon looked up for a fraction of a second. "I'm fine."

Jay blinked again, clearly not buying it. "I mean, you're kinda acting like she's dying or something. It's just a small burn, right?"

He wasn't being cruel—just genuinely puzzled. To him, I was just a staff member. Nothing more. Not someone worth panic. Not someone who could crack through Sunghoon's usual cold composure.

Sunghoon didn't respond. His fingers paused slightly as he wrapped the bandage around my wrist.

Jay looked between the two of us, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "Since when do you even notice stuff like that, hyung?" he asked, half-laughing. "You never even let the stylists fix your collar."

I bit the inside of my cheek, heart pounding, refusing to meet anyone's eyes now.

Because I didn't know what to say.

Because I couldn't say what I wanted.

Because whatever this was—it wasn't supposed to exist.

Sunghoon's voice was quiet, but final. "She's different."

Silence.

Jay's brows furrowed, his expression unreadable now. I didn't dare look at him.

My wrist was now wrapped in clean gauze, but nothing about me felt healed.

If anything, this was the moment everything cracked wide open.

His hands were still on mine, gentle and wrapped in silence, when the door swung open.

"Hey, have you guys seen—"

Kian's voice cut in, easy and casual just like he was as a band leader, but it felt like a rock thrown into still water. The atmosphere shifted instantly.

I flinched.

Without thinking, I pulled my hand out of Sunghoon's grasp. Too fast. Too obvious. The air between us went cold.

Sunghoon's fingers froze in the air for a second, as if stunned by the sudden absence of my skin against his. His expression didn't shift much, but I saw it—the way his eyes followed my hand, how his shoulders subtly dropped. Like he'd been left behind.

"Jiwon?" Kian asked, eyes landing on the little scene. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I replied quickly, tucking my injured hand behind my back like it meant nothing. Like he meant nothing.

Jay still looked like he was catching up to the moment, his gaze darting between us, trying to connect dots we weren't handing him.

"Sunghoon was just overreacting," I added with a light laugh, fake and airy, hoping it would dissolve whatever tension lingered in the room.

But Sunghoon didn't laugh.

Didn't move.

Didn't say a single word.

He just stood there, expression unreadable, eyes on the spot where our hands had been moments before.

Like he was trying to hold onto something that had already slipped through his fingers.

And I hated it—that flash of hurt I saw flicker in his eyes before he turned away, walking past Kian like none of it mattered.

But it did.

And it always had.