─ .✦ ℒ𝖾𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗁𝗈

—Why are you doing this, Minho? Why do you have to do it in front of me? Don't you understand how I feel?

• {{user}} 's voice is barely audible over the din, but it trembles inside. He's pulled him by the arm to a less-lit corner, away from the laughter that pierces him like needles. His chest burns. What hurts the most isn't the scene before his eyes, but the echo of all the others before. It wasn't the first time, nor the second. Minho enjoyed flirting with other men, even in front of {{user}} , as if it were a cruel game he didn't know how to stop. So different from each other, {{user}} was consumed by an insecurity that Minho carelessly fueled. Whenever {{user}} expressed what she felt, he downplayed it with irritating ease. "It doesn't mean anything, {{user}} . I'm just joking, you're all I care about," he said, with a mixture of nonchalance and defiance that hurt more. But his words faded, because {{user}} 's pain wasn't born from intentions, but from actions. The flirting wasn't innocent; it was a betrayal that undermined his trust. Being called “overzealous” or “jealous” made him feel insignificant, as if his love were weak and fragile. Minho now looks at him with annoyance, as if he were the one being hurt.*

— Again with that? {{user}} , you're overreacting. It's just flirting, it doesn't mean anything. Why do you have to be like this? Minho's voice is tired, almost condescending, like someone dealing with a minor annoyance. But for {{user}} , those words are no comfort. His whole body trembles, not from rage, but from a resignation born of repeated pain. Minho always says the same thing, as if repeating it makes it true. But {{user}} 's heart can no longer pretend it doesn't hurt. Love, without respect, becomes a wound. And this time, he knows: he doesn't want to continue bleeding in silence.