Chapter 9: Fractures in Silence

The dance studio echoed with the rhythmic thud of synchronized movements, the heavy bass pulsing through the floor. Hyunjin wiped sweat from his brow, forcing his body to keep up with the others. His eyes, however, wandered toward the far end of the room. The usual spot where Sherri sat—watching silently, noting his movements with a softness that steadied him—was empty.

He didn’t ask. He didn’t dare. After all, he had told YoungBok she meant nothing. That he belonged to him. That he wouldn’t look at her again.

But when the crew members chatted near the mirrors, he overheard it in passing. “Sherri’s on sick leave... she hasn’t even responded to any texts.”

Something snapped.

Without a word to anyone, Hyunjin left his water bottle on the floor and disappeared. His phone lay on the bench, forgotten in the urgency of his heart. The streets blurred past him until he was standing at her door, his chest heaving.

He knocked once. No answer. Then again.

The door creaked open slowly from the inside. Sherri stood there, pale and trembling. Her knees gave out just as the door unlatched, and she collapsed straight into his arms.

“Sherri—!”

He caught her, panic rushing in like a storm. Her skin was burning. Feverish.

Hyunjin quickly carried her to the bed, tucked her under the blankets, and sat beside her. She murmured incoherent things, her breath shallow. After making her sip some water and giving her the fever medicine he found in her drawer, he finally lay down beside her, holding her loosely. He couldn’t help it. Being next to her—especially like this—felt like the only place he could breathe.

Back at the studio, chaos spread. Hyunjin was missing. His phone was still in the practice room. Nobody had seen him leave.

YoungBok’s hands were shaking as he flipped through his call logs. Nothing. Not a single message. Chris called again. Seungmin paced. It was Felix—YoungBok himself—who finally muttered, “I’ll go check her place.”

A few hours later, Sherri woke up feeling a little better. The medicine had started working. Hyunjin was asleep beside her, arms loosely draped over her waist, his head nuzzled into the crook of her neck.

She carefully slipped out from under him, adjusted the blanket over his chest, and padded barefoot to the door after hearing another knock.

She opened it slowly.

YoungBok.

His eyes locked onto hers, then flicked past her shoulder into the apartment.

He stormed inside.

“Is he here?”

“Bok—”

Before she could explain, he found him.

Hyunjin was still asleep on her bed.

YoungBok's fists clenched.

“You’re unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath.

“He came when I collapsed at the door,” she whispered, “I was burning with fever—”

“I don’t care!” he snapped. “If you want men, tell me—I’ll send them to you. But stay away from my man.”

Her breath hitched.

The words felt like knives.

She stood frozen.

Behind her, Hyunjin stirred. It was dusk now—the orange evening light filtered in through the curtains.

He rubbed his eyes and sat up. “Bok…?”

She turned quickly, hiding the pain.

“Take your man and get out,” she said through clenched teeth. “Get out of my house.”

“Sherri—”

“Now!”

Hyunjin looked between them, confused. “What happened?”

YoungBok didn’t answer. He grabbed Hyunjin’s wrist. “Let’s go.”

She slammed the door behind them.

And the silence after was the loudest thing she’d ever heard.

She slid down the door, heart pounding. Her hands trembled as she clutched her own shirt. She wanted to cry. To scream. But all she could do was stare.

Frozen.

Outside, Hyunjin finally shook off YoungBok’s grip. “What the hell was that?”

YoungBok was boiling. “You said she meant nothing. You said you were mine. And then I find you asleep in her bed?”

“She was sick! I went to check on her—”

“You left without telling anyone! Do you even care how worried we were?”

“I didn’t plan it, okay? I just heard she was sick and… I couldn’t stop myself.”

YoungBok turned away, jaw tight. “That’s the problem. You always can’t stop yourself.”

Just then, Chris’s call came.

“Get back to the dorm. Manager says we need to pack. We’re flying out tomorrow morning.”

That night, the dorm was heavy with tension.

---

YoungBok didn’t say a word as they reached the dorm. His jaw was clenched, fists tight at his sides.

Hyunjin followed closely behind, wanting to explain, to reach out, but YoungBok didn’t even spare him a glance.

They entered their shared room in silence.

Hyunjin stood near the door, guilt settling heavy in his chest, watching as YoungBok changed and got into bed without saying a word.

But instead of curling up beside him like always, YoungBok turned his back and laid on the far edge of the bed, creating a wide, painful distance between them. His silence cut deeper than any words.

Hyunjin lay down too, eyes fixed on the ceiling, heart aching with regret.

The room felt colder than ever, the silence between them louder than any fight. And still, YoungBok didn’t speak. Not even a breath of acknowledgment. Just pain — quiet, burning, and unresolved.

.In her apartment, Sherri laid awake too, the sheets still warm from where he had been.

She clutched her pillow.

And cried.

---

The next morning arrived dull and gray, as though the sky mirrored the mood inside the dorm.

The van was waiting outside, engine humming, and the manager calling names in a tired voice.

Hyunjin stood by the door, suitcase in hand, eyes flicking to the hallway where YoungBok hadn’t emerged yet.

When he finally did, YoungBok walked straight past him — no glance, no words, just the dull thud of his suitcase wheels dragging behind him.

The silence was suffocating.

They had to sit together in the van. Their shoulders were inches apart, yet a canyon of unspoken hurt stretched between them.

Hyunjin wanted to speak — God, he wanted to say something.

To apologize, to explain, to hold him.

But YoungBok stared out the window with a blank expression, earphones in, guarding his heart with silence.

For the entire flight, rehearsals, meals — it was the same. Cold silence.

Hyunjin’s fingers ached to reach out, but guilt and fear chained him in place.

Every time he looked at YoungBok, his chest tightened.

This wasn’t just anger. This was pain — betrayal — and it was etched into every line of YoungBok’s beautiful face.

Hyunjin tried once.

Backstage, after a performance, when the rest were changing and laughing.

He touched YoungBok’s arm, whispering, “Can we talk—?”

But YoungBok pulled away gently, like the touch itself burned him.

“I’m tired,” he said quietly and walked off.

That hurt more than yelling would have.

A full week passed like that.

Meanwhile, back in Seoul, something changed too.

Sherri resigned from the company.

She didn’t leave a letter, didn’t make a scene.

Her desk was empty when the others arrived.

Her phone number disconnected. She’d moved out — no forwarding address, no explanation.

Gone like a dream that left nothing but an ache behind.

Hyunjin found out through a casual mention from one of the stylists.

“Oh, Sherri-ssi? She quit. Didn’t you know? Moved out too. Guess she’s starting over somewhere…”

The news hit him like ice water.

She was gone.

Really gone.

And he couldn’t even blame her.

He’d hurt her.

Again and again.

Chased after her when he shouldn’t have.

Kissed her.

Let YoungBok tear her down in a moment of pain, and stood helpless.

Now he had lost her — not just physically, but emotionally, spiritually.

Whatever bond remained between them had snapped with one final crack.

That night, Hyunjin didn’t sleep.

He sat on the hotel balcony, wrapped in a hoodie, eyes swollen from holding in too many tears.

YoungBok came out for a moment, saw him there, then went back in.

Still, no words.

Even the moon felt too distant.

In the silence, Hyunjin wondered how everything had fallen apart so quickly. One love he couldn’t hold, another he was losing with each breath.

And in another part of the city, Sherri stood alone in her new apartment — smaller, quieter, and unfamiliar.

She looked out the window at the unfamiliar street, the boxes still stacked around her.

She pressed her hand over her chest. It still hurt.

The words YoungBok had said echoed every time she tried to sleep.

“If you want men, I’ll send them to you. Just leave my man.”

She had held strong in front of them.

And now — she had truly left.

She didn’t want to love someone who made her feel like a mistake.

And she didn’t want to hate someone she once loved so purely.

So she vanished.

She thought — maybe this was the only way to protect what was left of her heart.