Sorry to keep you waiting, dear readers! But here it is—here's another long chapter for you! 🎶❤️ Enjoy!
"What do you think you're doing?"
Seon Jae froze, the low, cutting tone slicing through the tension in the room. His head snapped up, and there was Kyung—soaked from the rain, his suit damp and clinging to his frame, his face shadowed by the dim light spilling in from the doorway. His sharp eyes moved between Seon Jae's hand resting on Sol's shirt and her frail form slumped against the couch.
"I..." Seon Jae's voice faltered, tangled with guilt and confusion. "She was—she's hurt. I was just trying to—"
"Trying to what?" Kyung interrupted, stepping further into the room. His shoes squelched against the wet floor, the sound only heightening the suffocating quiet. Without waiting for an answer, he crouched by Sol's bag, rummaging through it with quiet urgency.
"Kyung..." Seon Jae began, his voice shaky, unsure of what to say. He watched as Kyung pulled out a small orange bottle, his movements precise. "What is that? What's happening to her?"
Kyung's jaw tightened, but he didn't answer immediately. "Hold her steady," he said curtly, twisting the cap off the bottle and retrieving a pill.
Seon Jae blinked at the command, startled, but instinctively adjusted his hold on Sol. He cradled her closer, her trembling body fragile against his chest. Her shallow breaths mingled with faint whimpers, and the sight twisted something deep inside him. I hate seeing her like this—so vulnerable, so small.
"Sol," Seon Jae whispered, his voice raw. "Please, say something. Tell me what's wrong."
Kyung shot him a sharp look. "Help me get this into her," he said, holding the pill to Sol's lips while tilting the water bottle he'd grabbed from the table.
Seon Jae's arms tightened protectively as he steadied her. Sol's lips parted weakly, and she winced at the water's touch. Seon Jae could only watch as Kyung coaxed her to swallow, his own questions clawing at him.
The silence that followed was unbearable, broken only by the rain hammering against the windows and Sol's uneven breathing.
"What happened to her?" Seon Jae's voice cracked, his eyes darting between Kyung and Sol. "She was fine before. What's going on? She didn't—"
"This isn't new," Kyung interrupted flatly, his gaze fixed on Sol as he checked her condition.
"What do you mean?" Seon Jae's heart hammered, his mind spinning. "She wasn't like this before. What's wrong with her?" His voice rose, his frustration breaking through.
Kyung sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. "This didn't happen overnight," he said, his tone heavy. "She's been dealing with this for years, Seon Jae. Since the accident."
Seon Jae's breath hitched. "Accident?" The word felt foreign, almost wrong. He looked down at Sol, her frail body trembling in his arms. "What accident?"
Kyung hesitated, his jaw clenching as if weighing his next words. "A car accident. Almost five years ago." His gaze flickered briefly to the scar peeking from beneath her shirt before meeting Seon Jae's wide eyes. "She barely survived. And..." His voice softened, almost reluctant. "She didn't walk away unscathed."
Seon Jae's chest tightened, Kyung's words landing like punches. Five years ago. Around the time she disappeared. His gaze dropped to the scar, now etched into his memory. The thought of her suffering like this—alone—is unbearable.
"And the rain?" Seon Jae asked, his voice trembling. "Is that why she—"
Kyung nodded grimly. "The rain, cars, loud noises—they're all triggers. She's been fighting PTSD ever since. That's why I came here tonight. I knew she might..." He trailed off, shaking his head.
Seon Jae's fingers curled around the fabric of Sol's shirt, his mind reeling. She went through all this, and I wasn't there. "Why didn't she tell anyone?" His voice broke, raw with emotion.
Kyung's expression hardened, a flicker of protectiveness flashing in his eyes. "She didn't want anyone to know. Not even me, at first. Sol's always been like that—keeping everything inside to protect everyone else."
"She shouldn't have had to," Seon Jae murmured, his voice thick with regret. He brushed his thumb against Sol's hand, which had loosened its grip on her side. "She shouldn't have gone through this alone."
"She didn't," Kyung said quietly, his tone measured. "I was there."
The words cut through Seon Jae like a blade. His grip on Sol tightened, his throat constricting with unspoken frustration. Kyung's role in her survival feels like a shadow—looming and unbearable.
Kyung shifted his hold on Sol, leaning forward. "I'll take her home," he said, his tone sharp, brooking no argument.
Seon Jae's hands lingered on her arm, unwilling to let go. "Kyung," he said, his voice low and strained. "Please... take care of her. But I need answers."
Kyung paused, his back rigid as he turned just enough to meet Seon Jae's eyes. His gaze was unreadable—pity, restraint, maybe something else. "I always do," he said softly.
As Kyung moved toward the door, Seon Jae's voice broke through, desperate. "What about Byeol?" The name spilled from his lips like a plea. "She keeps saying it. Who is Byeol? What does it mean?"
The question hung in the air like a knife. Kyung froze, his jaw tightening, his grip on Sol flexing protectively.
Seon Jae stepped closer, his pulse pounding. "Is it a person? Someone she needs? Kyung, you can't just—"
"I can't tell you," Kyung interrupted, his tone final. Then, as if sensing Seon Jae's unraveling, he softened, adding, "Not yet."
The words hit Seon Jae like a tidal wave. "Not yet?" he repeated, his fists clenching. "What don't I know? What are you hiding?"
Kyung didn't answer. Instead, he adjusted Sol in his arms, his posture tense, shielding her from the storm inside and out.
He spoke at last, his voice steady. "Don't let anyone else find out about this. She doesn't need the world knowing. She doesn't need more weight on her shoulders."
Seon Jae stood motionless, his thoughts chaotic. I want to fight, to demand answers, but Kyung's words—and Sol's fragile state—keep me rooted to the spot.
At the door, Kyung glanced over his shoulder. "We'll be here tomorrow."
Then he disappeared into the storm, Sol cradled in his arms, leaving Seon Jae standing in silence. The rain outside mirrored the torrent inside him—questions pounding, relentless and unanswered.
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The studio was eerily quiet after Kyung and Sol had left, the soft click of the door still ringing in Seon Jae's ears. He stood frozen, his thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and emotion. Sol's pale face, her trembling hands clutching at her side, and the scar—etched into her ribcage and now seared into his memory—swirled together like a storm he couldn't escape.