Ren stood across the street, unmoving, as if the world had suddenly forgotten how to breathe.
The glass walls of the luxury store reflected everything too clearly—bright lights, polished floors, and the two figures standing inside. One of them… he knew too well.
Arin.
The name alone used to feel warm in his chest. Now it felt heavy, like something breaking apart slowly.
Arin stood there, dressed in clothes Ren had never seen before—clean, expensive, perfectly fitted. His posture was different too, more confident, more… distant. And beside him stood another man, laughing softly as he held up a bottle of perfume.
Ren watched as Arin took it from him, smiled faintly, and said something Ren couldn't hear. The other man paid without hesitation.
Just like that.
No arguments. No checking price tags. No hesitation.
Ren's fingers tightened around the thin plastic bag he was holding. Inside it were cheap groceries—instant noodles, eggs, and a small cake he had bought on discount because it was nearing its expiration date.
He had wanted to surprise Arin tonight.
"…What am I doing?" he whispered to himself.
His voice sounded strange, like it didn't belong to him.
The cold wind brushed against his face, but Ren barely felt it. His mind had already slipped elsewhere—back to the beginning.
Back to when everything was simple.
It had been their first year of college.
Ren still remembered that day clearly. He had been sitting alone under a tree, eating a dry piece of bread he had saved from the morning. His clothes were worn out, his bag old, and his eyes tired from juggling classes and part-time work.
That's when Arin had appeared.
"Is that your lunch?"
Ren had looked up, slightly annoyed. "Why?"
Arin had crouched down in front of him, smiling like it was the most natural thing in the world. "Because it looks depressing."
Ren frowned. "It's food."
"It's sadness," Arin corrected gently, then held out a lunchbox. "Here. Trade."
"I don't want—"
"Too late." Arin had already placed the lunchbox in his hands.
Inside was a proper meal—rice, vegetables, meat.
Ren stared at it, confused. "Why are you doing this?"
Arin just shrugged. "Because I want to."
That was how it started.
No big moment. No dramatic confession.
Just a quiet exchange under a tree.
Arin had always been like that—kind without explanation, gentle without reason.
He never talked about his family. Never mentioned money. He lived in a small apartment with Ren later on, saying it was "closer to campus." He dressed simply, ate whatever Ren cooked, and never complained.
So Ren believed it.
He believed Arin was just like him—someone struggling, someone trying.
Someone who needed him.
Ren laughed bitterly under his breath as he stood outside the store.
"How stupid…"
He looked down at his hands.
Hands that had worked countless hours—washing dishes, carrying boxes, taking night shifts—just to afford rent, food, and their daily lives.
Hands that had trembled when he received his diagnosis six months ago.
Cancer.
The word had echoed in his mind for days.
He remembered sitting alone in the hospital corridor, staring at the paper in his hands.
Stage early enough to treat, they said.
But treatment cost money.
Money he didn't have.
Money Arin didn't have… or so he thought.
So Ren made a decision.
He smiled more. Worked harder. Hid everything.
Because Arin worried too much.
Because Arin would blame himself.
Because Ren didn't want to be a burden.
Inside the store, Arin laughed again.
That same laugh Ren had fallen in love with.
But it didn't reach him anymore.
Ren remembered the night they officially became something more.
It had rained heavily.
Their tiny apartment had a leaking roof, and they had placed buckets everywhere to catch the dripping water. The power had gone out, leaving them in darkness.
"Romantic," Arin had joked.
Ren rolled his eyes. "This is your idea of romance?"
"Yeah," Arin said softly.
And then, after a pause—
"As long as it's with you."
Ren's heart had skipped.
Even now, remembering it hurt.
That was the night Arin held his hand for the first time.
The night their distance disappeared.
The night Ren thought… maybe, just maybe, he wasn't alone anymore.
Back in the present, Ren took a step back.
He didn't want to watch anymore.
But his eyes betrayed him.
Inside, the man beside Arin leaned closer, saying something that made Arin freeze for a second.
Ren noticed it.
That small reaction.
Something wasn't right.
But before he could think further, Arin nodded and forced a smile.
And that smile…
Ren knew it.
It was the same one Arin used when he was hiding something.
"…So you were lying too."
Ren's voice cracked slightly.
All this time, he thought he was the only one keeping secrets.
He looked at the cake in his bag.
It was slightly crushed now.
"Happy… what was it?" he muttered.
It wasn't even a special occasion.
He had just wanted to celebrate surviving another month.
Celebrate being with Arin.
Celebrate something that now felt like a lie.
A sharp pain suddenly shot through his chest.
Ren gasped softly, clutching his shirt.
It had been happening more often lately.
He knew what it meant.
He didn't have much time before things got worse.
But somehow… that didn't scare him as much as this moment did.
"I was going to tell you," he whispered, his voice barely audible.
"Not today… but soon."
He had imagined it so many times.
Sitting across from Arin.
Laughing awkwardly.
Saying, "Hey, I might die."
And Arin would panic.
Get angry.
Cry.
Stay.
But now?
Now Ren wasn't so sure.
Inside the store, Arin turned slightly.
For a brief second, their eyes almost met.
Ren stepped back instinctively, hiding behind a pillar.
His heart pounded wildly.
He wasn't ready.
He couldn't face him.
Not like this.
"…You look happy," Ren murmured.
"And I'm glad."
"Atleast you will be happy...."
Even if it hurt.
Even if it broke something inside him.
He turned away.
One step.
Then another.
Each step heavier than the last.
Behind him, the store doors opened.
Arin stepped out, glancing around as if searching for something… or someone.
But Ren was already gone.
The plastic bag slipped slightly from his fingers as he walked into the crowd.
The small cake inside tilted, the icing smudging against the box.
Just like everything else.
Messy.
Ruined.
Unfinished.
Ren didn't look back.
Because if he did—
He wasn't sure he'd be able to leave.
And somewhere deep inside, a quiet thought echoed:
If only you had told me…