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Min-su had betrayed Se-mi.
There was no way to soften that truth. No excuse to wrap around the guilt that clung to him like wet clothes. He’d turned his back on the one person who had trusted him more than anyone else in this absurd place. The one person who had chosen to believe in him, and he had left her behind.
He instead decided to stay with Thanos and Namgyu. Two people who barely tolerated him. Thanos, smug and manipulative. Namgyu, cruel and aggressive. They didn’t like him. Maybe Thanos did. But Namgyu most definitely hated him. But it doesn't matter now, Min-su had thrown away Se-mi’s trust for them. He ran with Thanos and Namgyu, instead of choosing Se-mi. The first person to treat him with kindness in this corrupted place.
From the other side of the room, laughter rang out, grating and heartless.
“Did you see the look on her face?” Namgyu cackled. “The bitch deserved it.”
Min-su’s stomach twisted. He didn’t lift his head. He couldn’t. Thanos snorted, clearly amused by Namgyu’s mockery, and for a brief moment, Min-su wondered if they even knew how close Se-mi had come to dying. How close she still might be to it.
“Honestly, Min-su,” Thanos added, voice laced with some admiration, “I won’t lie. I didn’t think you had it in you to do that.”
He could see her in his mind. The disappointment in her eyes as he pulled scissors, as he ran away. She could be bleeding out on the other side of that wall right now. She could be gone. And it would be his fault.
He silently prayed she’d found someone. Anyone, that she wasn’t alone. That she made it out alive.
“Min-su?”
Thanos’s voice was calm, almost friendly, but Min-su didn’t answer. He didn’t trust himself to speak. The guilt was burning through him, scorching his throat, searing his gut.
“Don’t bother,” Namgyu muttered with a mocking tone. “He’s probably grieving that bitch’s death.”
The words Namgyu had uttered made him snap. “Don’t call her that!” He burst out. The words weren’t sharp or commanding like he’d imagined. His voice cracked somewhere in the middle, shaky and uncertain, but it was something. It was the first time he’d pushed back, and even if it wasn’t impressive, even if it wasn’t brave, it was real.
Namgyu froze for a moment, then slowly turned his head. His glare could’ve cut glass. He stepped forward with deliberate steps, closing the distance between them until they were face to face. Min-su could feel Namgyu’s breath. Hot and angry.
Namgyu looked seconds away from exploding. Shouting. Maybe even swinging. But then Thanos stepped in, gripping Namgyu’s shoulder and pulling him back with a firm tug.
“Alright, alright,” Thanos said quickly. “We’re all in this together, guys. We’re a team. No fighting.”
Namgyu didn’t say anything. He just stared at Thanos with an unreadable look. Half frustration, half obedience. He never challenged Thanos. That much had always been clear. With everyone else, Namgyu barked orders or picked fights, but with Thanos? He folded. Always.
“We’ll just tell Señorita we’re sorry,” Thanos said with a chuckle, brushing the tension away like it was nothing. “She’ll forgive us. Who could resist Thanos’ team?”
Min-su almost scoffed. Almost. But it came out as a breath. Sharp and bitter. He looked at Thanos, really looked at him, and for the first time, saw just how delusional he was.
Se-mi wasn’t the type to come crawling back. She wasn’t the kind of girl who forgave betrayal, especially not this kind. And if she was still alive out there, she’d never forget what he’d done. Yet, the worst part is Min-su would never forget it, either.
Min-su hesitates. He’s never been the praying type, never saw much use in it, but in this moment, he finds himself doing just that. A quiet plea echoes in his head, wordless but desperate. Please… let Se-mi be alive. That’s all he wants. Nothing else in this hellish place matters.
He steps out into the hallway. The light is blinding, the chaos immediate. Screams bounce off the steel walls, and panicked footsteps blur in every direction. His eyes scan the crowd and then he sees her.
Their gazes lock, and the air between them feels thick and fragile all at once. His heart clenches. So many things race through his mind, so many words sit at the tip of his tongue.
I’m sorry.
I should’ve gone with you.
Are you disappointed?
Do you forgive me?
But nothing comes out. He doesn’t mumble a word. Instead, silence stretches between them while people start walking towards the carousel and the storm rises around them. Her expression says enough. He can see it in her eyes. The hurt, the betrayal, the way she looks at him like she’s seeing someone she thought she knew. Then, after a lingering second, she breaks eye contact. She turns, walking away toward the others without a single word. Not even a glance back.
Min-su stays frozen, staring after her, guilt settling deep and cold in his chest. He wants so badly to talk to her. But she doesn’t even seem to acknowledge him. She stands with a few others, speaking to 416 and 054, barely reacting to how close Namgyu and Thanos are to her. She doesn’t even seem to notice Min-su.
He looks away. The realization hits hard: he had her trust, and in three short days, he destroyed it.
“Min-su, my boy! Why are you just standing there?”
He turns around at the familiar voice and sees Thanos approaching, arms wide and cheerful, as if nothing is wrong. Namgyu follows close behind, reluctantly, clearly amused by Min-su’s misery.
Thanos throws an arm over Min-su’s shoulder like they’re longtime friends. “The next round is about to start! Come on,” he cheers, far too enthusiastic for what’s about to happen.
“He’s upset about his girlfriend avoiding him, Thanos. That’s why he’s just standing there,” Namgyu adds with a cruel chuckle, always ready to get a jab in.
“Not my girlfriend,” Min-su mutters under his breath.
“Oh. Well, she’s the one who decided to leave us. It’s not your fault, Min-su!”
Min-su says nothing. He walks stiffly with them towards the carousel, the weight of dread pressing harder with every step. He keeps his head low, eyes flicking toward Se-mi again. She’s standing just a short distance away, but it might as well be miles. She’s talking to others, laughing even, but Min-su doesn’t miss the way she glances around, like she’s searching for someone. Someone who didn’t show up when she needed him.
He forces his eyes off her. Thanos and Namgyu are grinning like it’s all a game. Min-su, meanwhile, is terrified. Terrified of being alone, of being picked, of not making it out. What if they call two? He doesn’t have Se-mi. He doesn’t have anyone.
The carousel begins to spin, each rotation blurring the faces around him. People exchange frantic looks, choosing partners in a rush of panic and desperation. The tension in the air is suffocating.
“Two!” the woman’s voice booms from the speakers.
Without hesitation, Thanos and Namgyu bolt. They don’t spare a glance at Min-su. Of course they don’t. Min-su watches them scurry away before he’s even had a chance to move. Panic erupted. Min-su had known they would leave him, but the knowledge didn’t soften the blow. For half a heartbeat he stood frozen. But there’s no time to linger. He needs to find someone. Fast.
Then he spotted Se-mi. She was scanning faces with the same lost urgency, she was alone. Her teammates had vanished, their eyes met again, and the decision was instant, adrenaline punched through his veins.
He sprinted, shoving past elbows and shoulders, he reached her and seized her wrist. She gasped, whether in shock or anger, he couldn’t be sure, but he didn’t slow. He wove through the chaos, dragging her in his wake, trust or no trust. She could yank free if she truly wanted, however, she didn't.
Hope flared, sharp and bright, as they sprinted towards door 39. Screams echoed off concrete walls. some contestants were still frozen in confusion, doomed by hesitation. They kept moving, Min-su forced the door handle, shoved Se-mi inside first, then slammed it behind them and twisted the lock.
Silence filled the room,except for their rasping breaths and the distant sound of feet, locks, and gunfire. They slumped against opposite walls, lungs burning, eyes squeezed shut.
Both of them collapse against the walls, gasping for air. Their eyes are shut, their lungs straining, they had barely survived. Gunshots ring out from somewhere down the corridor. Min-su listens to the horror unfold outside. The crying and sheer desperation of those who didn’t make it. If he hadn’t run, hadn’t taken Se-mi’s hand, he would’ve been one of them.
He opens his eyes slowly. Se-mi is standing quietly across the room, her head bowed. She doesn’t say anything, neither does he.
She’s beautiful. Even like this, exhausted, breathless, and quiet, she takes his breath away. Min-su wants to speak, to apologize, to tell her he didn’t mean for any of this to happen, that he regretted it the second she turned away, but he can’t, He just stares, caught between awe and fear.
Min-su opened his eyes first. Se-mi was staring at the floor, hair curtaining her face. Even sweaty and dust-smudged she looked gorgeous, and the sight cinched his heart. He wanted to apologize, to explain, to kneel if he had to.
Before he could, she whispered, “Min-su.”He froze, bracing for condemnation. She lifted her head, her irises were huge in the dim light. “Thank you, Min-su.” A small smile flickered.
Something in his chest unravelled. He smiled back, lopsided and shy. “It’s, uh, it’s no problem,” he stammered.
Silence again, but softer this time, like snowfall. They simply watched each other, sharing one breath, then.
Se-mi tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “So, those jerks abandoned you?” He gave a rueful chuckle. “Yeah. Should’ve seen it coming.”
“They’re assholes.” Her disdain was mild but firm. You could tell she meant the words. She was always very blunt after all.
Se-mi lets out a small smile. Then a snigger. And just like that, he starts laughing too. They fall into a fit of laughter. Unexpected, real, and oddly relieving.
For a moment, it almost feels like nothing ever happened, as if the betrayal didn’t cut so deep, it feels like they’re still the same two people who met only days ago, trying to figure out how to survive this nightmare together.
But reality crashes in again, more gunshots in the distance, louder now, he hears individuals screaming, and the laughter fades.
Min-su swallows hard, dread curling in his stomach like a fist. The gunfire stops. Then come the footsteps, the guards moving in, dragging away the ones who didn’t make it. Sliding them into the caskets, he can barely breathe, nausea rises in his throat again.
The doors start unlocking, one by one. He doesn’t need anyone to tell him the round is over, neither he nor Se-mi says anything. They both know what it means, they could’ve been two of the bodies.
Min-su turns toward the door, hand reaching for the handle, but Se-mi stops him with just one word.
“Min-su.”
He immediately turns back around. She stood a pace away, chin lifted, eyes glossy. She walks up to him, slow, uncertain, and then, without warning, she hugs him.
She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his neck. The gesture was so unexpected and so… gentle. His breath caught, he circled her waist, pulling her flush, for a few precious seconds the world shrank to the rhythm of her heartbeat drumming against his chest, he feels warmth spread into his body.
He wraps his arms around her waist, and she pulls him closer, It’s like they’re both trying to erase everything that came before. The betrayal, the fear, the pain. Just two people, clinging to each other in a place that wants to tear them apart.
“Thank you,” she whispers again. So quietly it’s barely audible.
But Min-su hears it, Of course he hears it. He hears everything when it comes to her, and in that moment, just for a little while, Min-su lets himself believe that not everything is lost, he feels himself gaining some hope.
She finally pulls back from the embrace, and Min-su feels an unexpected ache settle deep in his chest, a quiet sadness. The warmth that had briefly surrounded him vanishes, leaving behind a hollow space where comfort once was, his heart beats, a mixture of regret and longing swirling in the tightness of his throat. He should've said sorry, he lingers a moment longer, almost reluctant to let go, as if holding on just a little more might somehow keep the connection alive. reality presses down on him and he pulls away, his fingers slide from her waist, and the emptiness that follows feels so cold.
Se-mi doesn’t hesitate, her hand finds his wrist, fingers curling around it with gentle firmness, grounding him. The contact is brief but charged, a silent reminder that neither of them wants to be alone right now, without a word, she pulls him toward the door, the metal handle is cold beneath her touch as she opens it, and she guides him out of the room.
Outside of the room, the place buzzes with noise, conversations, the occasional cough or shuffle of feet. It’s almost surreal, how life seems to carry on as if nothing horrific has happened, as if the stakes weren’t so painfully high. Min-su’s eyes scan the crowd, desperate for a sign, a break in the chaos, perhaps that was the final round, he had never felt so relieved.
His lips part before he can stop them. “Maybe that was the last round?”
The question hangs in the air, fragile and tentative. Se-mi’s gaze shifts toward him, eyes narrowing slightly as she surveys the crowd. “Yeah, I think it was,” she answers, voice quiet but steady. There’s a flicker of uncertainty in her expression, as if she wants to believe it but isn’t quite ready to trust the calm.
Before either of them can process the moment, a loud voice shatters the silence. “Min-su! Sénorita!”
They both jump, startled. The sheer volume of Thanos’ voice is jarring, invasive. No matter how many times it happened, it never failed to catch Min-su off guard. Why was Thanos always so impossibly loud? Striding forward with confidence, Thanos approaches, Namgyu trailing behind him with that infuriating smirk. Se-mi scoffs, a sharp sound cutting through the tension like a knife. Min-su’s stomach twists with unease, bracing for the confrontation he wishes he could avoid.
“What do you want, Thanos?” Se-mi stubbornly replies, voice stiff, eyes narrowing in defiance..
Namgyu’s response is immediate and harsh, laced with defensiveness. “We’re here to talk to Min-su, not you, bitch.”
Min-su flinches at the cruelty in Namgyu’s tone. It’s unnecessary, unwarranted. He wishes the man would calm down, that they could all just catch a break. But anger has a way of clouding judgment.
Thanos raises a hand, voice booming as if to settle things. “Hey, no arguing! We’re a team!”
Se-mi’s face twists into a look that says "Are we, though?” without her having to speak. The unspoken accusation lingers, thick and heavy.
If she had planned to retort, the sharp voices of the masked guards cut her off. They bark orders for everyone to depart and head to the stairs, announcing that the results of the third game would be revealed soon.
Almost immediately, Thanos and Namgyu start cheering. Their loud celebrations are disturbing in the somber atmosphere, drawing looks of fear, disgust, and disbelief from those around them. How could they rejoice when so many had lost their lives? When the air still tasted of dread and desperation?
“Come on, Min-su, Se-mi!” Thanos roars, voice rough with excitement. Namgyu follows, like a loyal dog.
The crowd begins to move toward the stairs, a flowing river of players, uneasy but compelled. Se-mi grabs Min-su’s wrist, a firm, steady hold that pulls him forward. “Well, I guess we should get going,” she says, voice low but resolute.
They walk side by side, the silence between them stretching out. Heavy, awkward. Neither one breaks it. Min-su’s mind races, replaying every detail of the recent past. The apologies he wants to say, the regrets, the guilt, all tangled inside him, suffocating. He wants to reach out, to explain himself, but fear is tight around his chest. What if she doesn't accept his apology? What if his words only widen the rift?
At last, he breaks the silence, voice barely above a whisper. “Se-mi.”
She turns her head slowly, eyes locking with his. The intensity of her gaze makes his heart stutter. She nods, quietly signaling she’s listening.
“I-I’m sorry.” The words come hesitantly, fragile. But Min-su knows she hears him. Her pupils dilate, wide and unblinking, as if trying to absorb everything he’s saying. Her mouth parts slightly, breath catching, and he hopes it’s not a surprise she’s finally heard the apology he’s been too afraid to say. “For betraying you, I mean. I shouldn’t have gone with Namgyu and Thanos. I regret not going with you. A lot.”
They stand there, frozen on the stairs, time stretching thin between them. The world around them blurs, the noise fading until only their breaths and pounding hearts remain. The silence feels thick, almost suffocating. Min-su’s gaze searches hers, desperate for any sign of what she’s thinking. Her expression is unreadable. Emotionless, distant, and worse than anger. It leaves him feeling exposed, vulnerable in a way that hurts more than any shout or accusation.
His throat tightens, and a sudden, desperate hope flickers inside him. Maybe, just maybe, she’ll say something. Anything.
“Se-mi?” His voice is soft, tentative, a fragile thread in the quiet.
Finally, she speaks, her voice low and steady. “Min-su.”
The relief that floods through him is overwhelming, and he exhales slowly, like he’s been holding his breath for too long. She’s breaking through the silence.
“It’s okay,” she says gently, the corners of her lips lifting in a soft, almost shy smile.
Her forgiveness means a lot to him, washing away the crushing guilt that had weighed him down. His own smile falters into place, slow and sincere. There’s something about the way she looks at him, something that makes his chest ache with warmth.
For a few more moments, they just stand like that, eyes locked, communicating in the quiet language between two people who have been through too much to find easy words.
“I know I’ve already said it, but thank you, Min-su. I wouldn’t have made it without you,” she whispers, with a smirk on her face.
Min-su feels heat rush to his cheeks, a shy awkwardness settling over him. He scratches the back of his neck, nervous and unpracticed in moments like these. “I- uh, well, anything for you,” he says, with an awkward laugh, light but sincere.
Se-mi’s cheeks flush pink, and she chuckles. A sound so genuine. Min-su stares at her in awe. She looks at him then, eyes sparkling faintly with something more than gratitude.
“Well, let’s get going,” she says finally, breaking the quiet.
Min-su frowns slightly, a flicker of reluctance passing through him, but he falls into step beside her without protest. Part of him wishes time could pause, that he could freeze this moment. The quiet understanding, the fragile hope, in place forever. But the world keeps moving, the games keep going, and they have to keep moving too.
As they walk, the weight of the day presses down on them, heavy and relentless. But for the first time in a long while, that weight feels a little less unbearable. With Se-mi beside him, sharing the silence and the burden, Min-su feels a flicker of something he hasn’t dared hope for. Something like hope itself.
It was lights-out in the main room, a vast warehouse of bunks stacked like metal ribs in the dark. Min-su lay on his back in the top bunk, staring at the ceiling. The room smelled of sweat and panic, and every now and then a sleeper kicked, muttered, or sighed. Nearly everyone was fast asleep, most likely due to the exhaustion of the games today. Full of non-stop running, resulting in everyone falling asleep immediately. Everyone but him.
A few hours later and sleep skittered away the moment he approached it. The mattress felt like stiff cardboard beneath his shoulder blades, and each twist of the thin blanket only wound his thoughts tighter. He replayed the day in ragged loops. Every scream, every desperate breath, and above it all the booming announcement of “three!” He’d chosen Namgyu and Thanos without really choosing, propelled by pure, scared reflex. Cowardice, maybe. Survival instinct, definitely. But he had apologized, at least he’d managed that much before the lights snapped off.
Below him, Se-mi’s quiet, even breathing was the one steady thing in the room. Almost a lullaby. He imagined her dream-face, and wondered if she dreamt of leaving this insane place too, or something gentler. His dreams lately were nothing but escaping this place. Tomorrow’s vote felt so far away. He clung to the hope of X winning. He wanted nothing more than to leave this place. Even if he can't fully pay his debts.
Two hours passed, he tossed and turned the whole time, before frustration drove him onto his side. Still no sleep. No one else seemed awake; even player 044 had ceased her night-long devotions to her imaginary gods. Min-su closed his eyes, inhaled, exhaled, tried the breathing trick he’d once read about. Then he hears someone whisper.
“Min-su?”
The call of his name cracked the silence like ice. He jerked upright, heart hammering, nearly tangling in his blanket. “Who- who said that?” His voice squeaked, mortifyingly.
A muffled chuckle drifted up. “Min-su, chill. It’s just me,” Se-mi laughs through her words.
Relief poured through him so fast it left him dizzy. “Yeah- yeah, I know.” A shaky laugh escaped.
“Can I come up? I’m bored out of my mind down here.”
The question lit him up brighter than the neon exit sign. “Yeah!” Too loud. He lowered his voice. “I mean, yeah, sure, come up.”
The bunk frame creaked as she climbed, the springs sighing when she settled beside him. The space was narrow, shoulders brushing, warmth meeting warmth in a cloak of darkness.
“How long have you been awake?” she murmured.
He winced. Was the insomnia painted on his face that clearly? “Honestly? Maybe an hour of sleep total. Hard to switch off here.”
“Oh.” She tilted her head, sympathy softening her silhouette. “What about you?” he asked. “Why’re you still up?”
“Is this an interrogation now?” She nudged him playfully.
“Well- you don’t have to—”
“Hey, relax.” Another gentle snort. “I’ll cooperate, Detective Min-su.” Tilting her gaze upward, she toyed with the silver ring in her lower lip, the metal glinting whenever a dim light flickered. It mesmerized him. He couldn’t remember seeing anyone as effortlessly beautiful.
“I just can’t stop replaying today,” she admitted, sighing. “Everything’s a blur. confusing, unfair, scary. You know?”
He nodded so hard the bunk quivered. The room fell silent between them until Se-mi spoke up once again.
“When the woman called out number three…” Her voice quieted, tentative. “Why did you pick Namgyu and Thanos? Why not me?” No accusation, only a bruised curiosity.
The question landed like a stone in his stomach. He’d dreaded it, but she deserved an answer. Words knotted in his throat. Seconds stretched. Finally he stared at the blanket pooled over their knees and pushed the confession out.
“I was scared,” he whispered. “Life or death. If I went with them i wouldn't have to think about getting another partner, and potentially losing time. But the whole time I hated it, hated not knowing if you were okay. You’re my best friend here, Se-mi. If you’d… been eliminated, I don’t know how I’d—” His voice cracked under the weight of the unsaid.
Silence settled. A fragile, holding-breath quiet. He didn’t dare look up, certain she’d see every ugly thing he felt: guilt, fear, something else blooming too bright to name.
“Min-su,” she said, “look at me.”
He dragged his gaze up. Expecting anger, he found a soft smile instead, one that glowed in the half-light, warming everything it touched. “Thank you for telling me,” she said, nodding once, the gesture small yet vastly comforting.
His answering smile felt like sunrise after weeks of rain. God, he was smitten. “Do you forgive me?” he asked, voice tight.
She flicked her lip ring again, a little nervous. Then, “Of course. I was mad and disappointed, yeah, because I trusted you. But it is life or death. And… you saved my life today, remember?” She exhaled, shoulders loosening. “I really do like you, Min-su. You’re… great.”
If the dorm lights had suddenly snapped on, everyone would have seen how violently he blushed. Luckily darkness was mercy. “You’re amazing too,” he managed, and the words were embarrassingly small for the size of the feeling.
They drifted into a comfortable hush. With Se-mi beside him the mattress felt softer, the air warmer; eyelids grew heavy. He let them fall.
“Hey, don’t fall asleep on me,” she teased.
His eyes flew open. “Right, sorry.”
“If you’re tired, I can go—”
“No!” His shout echoed louder than intended. She arched a brow, amused, he buried his face in his hands. “Sorry. I just… don’t go?”
“Okay,” she laughed.
Together they simply laid there, saying nothing but feeling at peace knowing the other is safe. Thoughts twisted around each other, hers unknown, his entirely her. He wondered if they’d ever see the world outside these walls together.
“Min-su,” she said again, sitting up and looking at him with eyes full of something he couldn’t quite name.
He mirrored her, and sat up. She bit her lip, a little nervous, then reached out, hands resting on his shoulders. Without another word, she pulled him close, and their lips met.
The kiss hit him like a spark, sudden and breathtaking. For a moment, he froze, stunned by the softness and certainty of her mouth on his. Then he responded, lips moving tentatively at first, searching. The world narrowed until there was nothing but the warm press of her lips, the gentle touch of her hands in his hair, the faint metallic kiss of her piercing brushing against his own teeth. It was unlike anything he’d ever experienced, so much sweeter, so much more alive than any previous kiss.
His heart thundered with a bright, radiant energy that seemed to pulse through every nerve ending. The taste of her, the softness, the quiet desperation to be closer. It was euphoric, The kiss wrapped around him, warming places he hadn’t known were cold. He wanted to stay there forever, lost in the dizzying sweetness of her mouth.
When they finally parted, breaths mingling, he could barely pull his eyes from hers. The silence held the weight of everything unsaid.
Then, almost without thinking, they were back together again, this time with a more urgent, searching hunger. The kiss wasn’t gentle now. It was desperate, two people trying to hold on to each other. Their hands explored, their breaths quickened, and every touch deepened the sudden rush flowing between them. They just kept trying to get closer and closer, their mouths moving against eachother.
The second parting was slower, their noses brushing, foreheads leaning together as though propping each other up. Se-mi’s laugh puffed warm between them, and he felt it on his mouth before hearing it.
“So…” she started, voice wobbly with shy joy.
The absurdity of words after such wordless truth struck them both; laughter bubbled up, muffled behind hands, so they wouldn’t wake up anyone. Min-su’s ribs ached with happiness he hadn’t believed possible here. This place was engineered for terror, yet Se-mi turned it on its head with a single kiss. Gosh, he already missed the feeling of Se-mi’s lips on his. The electrifying touch. He wanted nothing more than to kiss her a million times more. Yeah, he was infatuated by her, and even that would be an understatement.
She combed gentle fingers through his hair, nails scratching lightly across his scalp, sending pleasant sparks down his spine. He wanted to melt into that touch, he never wanted to move. “So, will we talk about it?” she whispered softly.
He swallowed, mind a bright whirl. He wanted to promise everything. An escape plan, what they would plan as soon as they get out. But he can't, no impulsive leaps this time. At least, not yet.
“Well,” she said when the silence stretched, “I liked it.” Her smile was soft, blooming. “I liked kissing you.”
Heat rushed to his cheeks with such force he felt light-headed, but it was the good kind of dizzy. “I liked it too,” he said, voice barely above a breath. “A lot.”
She snorted, amused at his statement, and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. The simple gesture made his face flush scarlet, even in the dark room, he was sure he was crazy red. He looked at Se-mi, even though he couldn't really tell, her cheeks seemed a bit flushed as well. Min-su would be lying if said he didn't pull a smile at that.
He silently wished they could stay here wrapped under the thin blanket, they lay shoulder to shoulder, throats humming with stifled laughter, hearts thundering an overlapping rhythm.
Tomorrow would bring a vote, maybe more fear. But right now? Min-su feels fulfilled. He feels content, safe. Min-su’s head drifted onto her shoulder, hair tickling her neck. She hooked a careful arm around her, and he curled closer with a contented sigh. The world outside the bunk receded until it felt miles away.
For the first time in what felt like years, Min-su’s eyelids fluttered heavily with genuine sleep, the kind that comes only when the heart is finally unburdened. Maybe he could rest here after all, because Se-mi was beside him.