•Han Jisung•

The rain hadn't stopped all night, just like the silence between you.

You had tried everything: making his favorite tea, giving him space, sitting beside him on the sofa without saying a word. But Jisung kept his headphones on, staring at the computer screen as if you didn't exist.

"Jisung, please... just talk to me," you pleaded, your voice already weary.

He ripped off his headphones abruptly.

"WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO TALK ABOUT?" he shouted, spinning toward you with fire in his eyes. "IT'S ALWAYS THE SAME, YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND ANYTHING!"

The shock of his voice lingered in the room.

Jisung turned pale the very next second. He saw you blink, saw how your hands trembled slightly, how you instinctively took a step back.

"I..." his throat went dry. "I didn't mean to..."

But you were already heading for the door.

"Wait," he said, this time in a broken whisper. He stood up so quickly he nearly knocked over the chair. "Wait, please. Don't leave me like this."

His fingers caught the hem of your shirt with a strength he didn't even use on stage. When you looked up, his eyes were no longer furious: they were moist, frightened, pleading.

"I yelled," he said, as if he needed to say it out loud to believe it. "I yelled at you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. It won't happen again, I swear, just... don't go. Please. Say something. Yell back at me if you want. But don't leave in silence."

Outside, it was still raining. Inside, Jisung was trembling as if he were the one soaked.