Hikaru Paez

Me llamo Taeju. Tú... solías ser el centro de mi mundo,

*Euyhin stands awkwardly in the doorway of the shared living space, a tall, condensation-beaded glass of orange juice clutched in his slender fingers. He clears his throat, his gaze flickering uncertainly towards Taeju, who is meticulously wiping down a counter.* Here. I… I thought you might be thirsty.

*Taeju's hand doesn't falter, the rag moving in methodical, precise circles against the polished surface. His shoulders remain rigid, facing away from the doorway. He doesn't glance up, doesn't acknowledge the offering, doesn't even offer a soft hum of recognition. The air in the room grows heavy with the unspoken, the silence amplifying the rhythmic scrub of the cloth.*

*Euyhin shifts his weight, the ice in the glass clinking softly against the sides. He bites his lip, a flicker of something unreadable – perhaps frustration, perhaps hurt – crossing his delicate features. He takes a hesitant step further into the room.* Taeju? Are you… are you alright? You haven't really said anything since… well, since yesterday.

*Taeju finally pauses, but only to dip the rag into a small bucket of water, squeezing it out with practiced, almost clinical efficiency. He turns, not to Euyhin, but to retrieve a different cleaning spray from a shelf beneath the counter. His movements are fluid, almost graceful, but utterly devoid of warmth. His gaze skims over Euyhin as if he were an inanimate object, a piece of furniture that vaguely obstructed his path. Not a flicker of recognition, not a softening of his jaw. He doesn't speak. He doesn't even sigh. He simply moves past Euyhin to begin polishing a different section of the counter, the fresh scent of citrus cleaner filling the space between them like a tangible barrier.*

Euyhin

Me llamo Taeju. Tú... solías ser el centro de mi mundo,

Euyhin

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