Three months had passed since that night. Three months since Haechan had been whisked away from the chaos, back to the sterile, predictable world he knew. The world of formulas, test tubes, and data sheets. The world where he could bury his thoughts in his work and forget about the things that haunted him.
But even in the clean, bright labs of his university, there were shadows. The quiet hum of the fluorescent lights above him could never drown out the memories of that night—of Minhyeong's voice, of the way he carried him without hesitation, of the confusion that had settled in Haechan's heart.
The deal was done. Haechan had gone back to his normal life, surrounded by colleagues and students who never seemed to ask the right questions. His lab was quiet, but it felt like everything else was loud. Like his head was too full.
"Dr. Lee," one of his assistants called out, breaking him from his thoughts. "The latest samples have arrived. Should we start analyzing them?"
Haechan blinked, refocusing on the present. "Yes, yes," he replied, a little too quickly, brushing the stray thought about Minhyeong away as if it were a pesky fly. "Let's get started."
He was back to work. Back to doing what he did best. The only thing that kept his mind from spiraling.
There had been no word from Minhyeong. No word from Johnny. No reason to look back.
But Haechan couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. As if a part of him was still there, waiting for something that could never return.
His research was progressing, but it didn't fill the void. Not fully.
The new project he was working on had consumed him, though. It was the reason he was in his lab so late tonight. There had been a surge in inmates showing signs of a mysterious illness—a virus, perhaps, or something worse. They became sick, violent, bloodthirsty... like monsters. It was terrifying. These prisoners would go from normal to grotesque creatures, driven only by hunger. And when they died, it was always the same. Their bodies decomposed at a rate that didn't make sense.
Haechan furrowed his brow, staring at the reports in front of him. The drugs he had been experimenting with seemed to be the key to stopping the progression of the illness—at least, that's what he hoped. But no matter how much he worked, no matter how much he analyzed, the cure still felt out of reach. The drug seemed to delay the symptoms but never cure them.
It didn't help that he kept thinking about the one person who had taken his thoughts away from science and into something more dangerous.
Minhyeong.
What was he doing now? Was he really free?
Had he left all of that behind? Or was he, like Haechan, still haunted by the ghosts of their past?
A knock at the door broke him from his thoughts again. He turned quickly, startled by the sudden intrusion.
"Dr. Lee?" A voice called through the door. "You're wanted in the director's office. It's urgent."
Haechan frowned, but stood up, glancing one last time at the work before him. He needed to focus, needed to make a breakthrough. There were lives at stake.
He couldn't let the past drag him down.
As he stepped out of his office and into the sterile hallways of the research facility, he pushed the thoughts of Minhyeong out of his head, focusing instead on the next step of his work. The director had always been demanding, and there was no time for distractions.
Jaemin's penthouse was nothing short of extravagant—glass windows from floor to ceiling with a view of the city that seemed endless, crisp white walls lined with expensive art, and sleek, minimalist furniture. Minhyeong sat on the plush sofa, lazily flicking through the channels on the television, the dim glow from the screen casting shadows across his face. He wasn't really watching; his mind was still miles away from the luxury around him, caught in a whirlwind of thoughts that refused to quiet.
Jaemin was lounging on the opposite couch, a drink in hand, tapping away at his phone. "You should stop moping around," Jaemin said, breaking the silence. "It's been months. You're free now. Live it up a little."
Minhyeong didn't respond, his eyes still fixed on the TV. Then, without warning, a news story caught his attention.
The face that filled the screen was familiar.
Haechan. Standing in front of a crowd of cameras, his lab coat pristine and his expression serious as he spoke into the microphone. He was talking about the new drug hitting the streets, the one that turned its victims into bloodthirsty, monstrous creatures. Haechan's voice sounded confident, assured. But Minhyeong's eyes narrowed as the words "cure" and "treatment" slipped from Haechan's lips.
"What the hell?" Minhyeong muttered under his breath, a sudden surge of curiosity and something else stirring within him.
Jaemin glanced up from his phone, following Minhyeong's gaze. "That's the scientist guy, right? The one you—" He stopped, realizing what he was about to say. "You know him?"
Minhyeong didn't answer, his fingers tightening around the armrest of the couch. Something about seeing Haechan on the screen again brought back a flood of memories he wasn't sure he wanted to revisit.
"Yeah, I know him," Minhyeong finally said, his voice rough.
The screen flashed with more of Haechan's words about a breakthrough, about how his team was close to finding a cure to stop the epidemic. Minhyeong's gaze lingered on Haechan's face, studying it with a mixture of disbelief and longing. Haechan had moved on. He was back to his old life, doing what he did best.
But Minhyeong... Minhyeong couldn't shake the feeling that he should be a part of it. That he should be near him again. He didn't know why—he shouldn't want to. After everything that had happened. After what he had become.
"Minhyeong?" Jaemin's voice cut through his thoughts. "What's going on with you? You haven't been the same since you got here. You really should—"
But Minhyeong wasn't listening.
Inside his head, Mark's voice was suddenly loud, cutting through his thoughts like a knife.
"Don't even think about it." Mark's voice was cold, harsh. "You're not going back to him. It's over."
Minhyeong stiffened, his hand involuntarily clenching into a fist at his side. He could feel Mark's presence in the back of his mind like a weight pressing down on him. It was always like this—Mark's voice was always there, always dictating, always controlling. Minhyeong wanted to ignore it. He wanted to ignore Mark's warnings, to push past the anger that was starting to build.
"You're not going anywhere near him. You have no right. He's gone, Minhyeong. He's moved on. So should you."
"Mark, shut up," Minhyeong muttered under his breath, but it wasn't enough. He could feel the pressure in his head building, Mark's voice growing louder, like the sound of thunder in the distance.
Jaemin, still sitting across the room, raised an eyebrow at Minhyeong's outburst. "You okay, man? You're looking a little... off."
But Minhyeong wasn't paying attention to Jaemin anymore. His mind was a storm of conflicting thoughts. He wanted to go to Haechan. He wanted to see him, to talk to him, to make sure he was really okay. To understand why Haechan kept showing up in his head, even now.
But Mark wasn't having it.
"You're not doing this. You're not going to him. You'll just end up hurting him again. You've already done enough, Minhyeong. Stop this now."
Minhyeong clenched his teeth, his nails digging into his palm as he struggled to fight back the rising tide of anger.
"Mark, get out of my head," Minhyeong hissed, his voice barely a whisper.
Mark's laughter echoed in his mind, dark and bitter. "You think you can just leave me behind? You can't get rid of me, Minhyeong. We're the same. Always will be."
Minhyeong squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block Mark out, but it wasn't enough. The voice wouldn't stop. It was like a constant hum in his skull. Every time he tried to make a decision, every time he tried to do anything on his own, Mark was there, reminding him of his past, reminding him of the things he had done.
"Minhyeong?" Jaemin called again, his tone more serious now. "What's going on? Are you okay? You're really starting to scare me, man."
Minhyeong took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He couldn't let Jaemin see what was happening. He couldn't let anyone see.
"Just... Just leave me alone for a minute," Minhyeong muttered, standing up abruptly and walking toward the window. The city lights outside twinkled, beautiful and distant, but they couldn't pull him away from the storm brewing inside his mind.
Mark's voice was still there, but Minhyeong pushed it aside. He couldn't keep ignoring it. Haechan was still out there, and no matter how much Mark tried to stop him, Minhyeong knew he wouldn't be able to move on until he saw him again.
He had to see him.
"Just one last time..." Minhyeong whispered to himself, a promise he wasn't sure he could keep.