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The apartment was dimly lit, the soft glow from the kitchen casting long shadows against the walls. Haechan sat on the couch, watching as Minhyeong leaned against the counter, arms crossed, his gaze avoiding direct eye contact.

"So, how are you feeling?" Haechan asked, his voice softer than usual.

Minhyeong exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders like he was trying to shake something off. "Fine."

Haechan raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "You're not."

"Stop," Minhyeong muttered, finally glancing at him, his jaw tight. "I'm already embarrassed I cried in front of you."

Haechan scoffed, tilting his head. "And that's okay. I'm here for you. That's why I'm worried—about both you and Mark." He paused, watching Minhyeong shift uncomfortably. "By the way... is Mark okay with you flirting with me?"

Minhyeong's lips curled into a smirk, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes. "Why? Worried about my other half?"

"I just don't understand," Haechan admitted, running a hand through his hair. "I've never... dat—I mean, been 'flirted' with by someone with two personalities."

Minhyeong chuckled, pushing off the counter and walking toward him, slow and deliberate. "So you were about to say date?"

Haechan rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. "That's not the point."

Minhyeong sat down beside him, his gaze finally locking onto Haechan's. "Mark and I... we want different things. He wants to protect you, push you away for your own safety. Me?" He leaned in slightly, voice dropping lower. "I want you close. Very close."

Haechan swallowed but held his ground. "And Mark just lets you do whatever you want?"

Minhyeong smirked, tilting his head. "Not exactly. He fights me on it, but deep down, I think even he knows—" He tapped Haechan's chest lightly. "—you're already in too deep."

Haechan exhaled, looking away for a moment before shaking his head. "You're impossible."

Minhyeong grinned. "And yet, you're still here."

Haechan watched Minhyeong closely, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his sweater. He wasn't stupid—he knew there was more to this than just flirtation and teasing. Something about the way Minhyeong looked at him, the way Mark refused to show himself, it all felt... unsteady.

"So then be honest," Haechan said, voice firm. "Or let me talk to Mark."

Minhyeong sighed dramatically, rolling his neck like this whole thing was a chore. "Fine. I'll let you talk to Mark."

Haechan watched as Minhyeong's expression shifted. It wasn't anything dramatic—no violent shaking or gasping for air. Just a flicker in his eyes, the smirk fading, his shoulders dropping. His entire presence became... quieter.

Mark blinked a few times before exhaling, rubbing his temples as if he had just woken up from a long nap. "What do you want, Haechan?"

Haechan tilted his head. "That's how you greet me? You could at least pretend you're happy to see me."

Mark looked at him, eyes unreadable. "I didn't want to come here. Minhyeong forced it."

Haechan snorted. "Yeah, well, he's got a habit of doing things without asking permission."

Mark didn't respond right away. Instead, he looked down at his hands, flexing them slightly, as if making sure they still belonged to him.

"Why do you let him?" Haechan asked after a moment. "You said you want to protect me, but you let him flirt with me, mess with me. Why?"