ʙᴇʜɪɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴜʀᴛᴀɪɴꜱ| ateez

✭𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘 𝐓𝐖𝐎 ✭

The aroma of the tea still lingered in the air, a stark contrast to the heaviness of our conversation. Jihoon's eyes met mine, and in that prolonged gaze, words were rendered unnecessary. It was clear he felt the weight of my revelations, and the depth of his concern was evident.

The ambient noise of the cafe, which had previously been mere background chatter, now seemed amplified. The clinking of cups, the low hum of conversations, and the soft music playing created an atmosphere that was almost surreal, given the gravity of what I'd just shared.

The smile I offered Jihoon was one of gratitude, tinged with the sadness of my story. His unwavering support was a comfort, and I felt a sense of solace in his presence.

He reached across the table, his fingers gently brushing mine. "You've been through a lot," he murmured, his voice soft yet filled with emotion.

" He said his brother was way in the way of his work illegal work. and that he didn't know I was in the car." I whisper quietly.

Jihoon's expression turned from one of gentle support to a look of deep concern and disbelief. He leaned slightly forward, his fingers briefly brushing against the back of my hand, seeking to comfort me even as he processed the gravity of what I'd shared.

"So he planned something against his own brother, unknowingly involving you in the process?" Jihoon's voice was quiet but tinged with a raw edge of emotion. "That's... That's incredibly dangerous and selfish."

I swallowed hard, my gaze darting to the cup before me as I tried to steady my emotions. The warm steam of the tea wafted up, but it did little to warm the chill I felt inside. "I trusted him, Jihoon. I thought we had something real. But now, it feels like everything was built on a foundation of lies."

Jihoon's eyes were alight with a fire, a fierce protectiveness that had always been one of his defining traits. "You deserve better than such treachery. No one should ever be a pawn in someone else's dark game."

The weight of his words, coupled with the sincerity in his gaze, provided a small measure of solace amidst the storm of my emotions. It was a painful revelation, one that left scars on my heart, but with Jihoon by my side, I felt a sliver of hope that healing could eventually come.

I took a deep breath, the scent of tea mingling with the ambient aroma of the café. Glancing up, I met Jihoon's eyes, those familiar depths that once held countless secrets and shared laughter. For a brief moment, we both seemed to be transported back to those school days.

"Do you remember those times in school?" I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper. "I often wish we could return to them, before everything became so complicated."

Jihoon's gaze remained unwavering, but a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Late-night study sessions, sneaking into the forbidden roof, our silly promises under the stars... I haven't forgotten."

There was a weight to his words, an unsaid acknowledgment of the divergence our lives had taken. I found myself hesitating, caught between the nostalgia of our shared past and the reality of the present.

"Why did you leave Seoul?" I asked, my voice reflecting the vulnerability I felt.

Jihoon leaned back, his posture slightly defensive. "There were reasons," he began slowly, "Family pressures, personal ambitions. But leaving behind what we had... It was one of the hardest things I've done."

The space between us, filled with the gentle hum of the café, seemed to echo with the weight of our unspoken words and feelings. "Being here, with you now," Jihoon added softly, "It makes me wish I had never left."

Emotions swelled within me, but I held them back, cherishing the solace of his presence. "We can't change the past, Jihoon," I replied, "But I'm grateful for this moment with you."