My mystical boy Hyunjin~

Rain had stopped by the time Felix stepped outside the warehouse, but the air was still thick with everything left unsaid. He stood there for a long moment, staring into the night as if it might offer answers. But the street was empty, and the silence pressed in around him like a second skin.

He didn’t call it in.

Didn’t write the report.

Didn’t mention Hwang Hyunjin at all.

The official story was simple: the tip had been bad. The warehouse was empty. Another dead end.

But the truth stuck to his ribs like a bruise. He hadn’t failed to catch Hyunjin.

He had let him go.

Days passed, but Felix couldn’t shake the feeling of Hyunjin’s breath near his ear, the weight of his gaze, the quiet honesty in his voice—Maybe I’m tired of running. It haunted him, curled around his thoughts like smoke he couldn’t breathe through.

Then, three days later, another body was found.

Same signature. Same cold precision. A clean bullet through the temple, no witnesses, no trace.

Felix stared down at the scene, the blood already drying on the concrete, and felt something sharp twist inside him.

Hyunjin hadn’t stopped.

Of course he hadn’t.

That night, Felix sat in the dark of his apartment, city lights bleeding through the window. He poured himself a drink, then another. The whiskey burned, but not enough. Nothing could burn away what he was starting to feel.

Obsession? Maybe.

Or something worse.

Something softer.

He shouldn’t have let him go.

---

A week later, a letter arrived. No return address. Inside, a single folded note in neat, careful handwriting.

> You're still chasing me, aren't you?
Meet me. Same place. Midnight.

No signature. None needed.

---

Felix stood in the doorway of the warehouse once again. This time, the rain came down harder, soaking through his coat, drumming against the metal roof like a war march. The flashlight remained off. He didn’t need it.

He knew Hyunjin was already here.

He could feel it.

A figure stepped from the shadows, just as before—smooth, confident, untouchable. But this time, there was something different in his eyes. Less defense. More recognition.

“Detective,” Hyunjin greeted.

“Hyunjin,” Felix replied, his voice flat. “You killed someone.”

Hyunjin gave a slow nod. “I did.”

“Why?”

“I had to,” he said simply, as if that explained everything.

And maybe it did.

Felix’s fists clenched at his sides. “You said you were tired of running.”

“I am.” A pause. “But I still have debts. Promises I made.”

“And once you finish?” Felix asked. “What then? You vanish? You start over? You kill again?”

Hyunjin’s eyes darkened. “You sound angry.”

“I am angry.”

“Because I lied?” Hyunjin asked, stepping closer. “Or because you wanted to believe I wouldn’t?”

Felix said nothing.

The silence between them stretched taut.

Finally, Hyunjin exhaled and sat on the edge of a crate, legs stretched out, hands resting loosely in his lap. He looked... tired. Older than before. Like the weight of his sins had started to settle on his shoulders.

“I don’t enjoy it,” he said quietly. “Killing. I used to tell myself I did, but that was just survival. Now it just... empties me.”

“Then stop.”

“I will,” Hyunjin said, meeting Felix’s eyes. “But not yet.”

Felix stared at him, struggling against everything inside him. “Why meet me again?”

Hyunjin smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Because you’re the only one who sees me.”

And there it was—that terrible, shattering vulnerability.

Felix crossed the room, slow and unsure. “You want me to catch you, don’t you?”

Hyunjin’s voice was barely a whisper. “Maybe I just want you to try.”

Felix was standing in front of him now, rainwater dripping from his hair, hands trembling at his sides.

“You should run,” he said.

“But you won’t chase me tonight,” Hyunjin murmured.

“No,” Felix admitted. “Not tonight.”

There was something dangerous in the way they looked at each other then. Not with the eyes of hunter and hunted—but as two men tangled in something neither of them fully understood.

Felix reached out, hand hovering near Hyunjin’s face, but he stopped himself. His fingers curled into a fist instead.

“This ends soon,” he whispered.

Hyunjin nodded. “I know.”

A beat. A breath.

Then Hyunjin stood, stepping so close their chests nearly touched. His hand brushed lightly against Felix’s wrist—not enough to be called a touch, but enough to set fire to the space between them.

“I’ll leave first this time,” he said, voice low.

And he did.

Felix stayed behind, frozen in the empty warehouse, soaked to the bone and filled with a longing he didn’t have the right to name.

The city outside still didn’t sleep.

And neither did he.