Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

That night, the air was cold. The rain just stopped after the sky turned dark. Between the chilly city buzz from outside the window, the sweet scent of warm popcorn willed Chimon’s small apartment.

“Hurry up, Chim!” Ohm yelled from the sofa in the living room. A remote control was already in his hand, finger hovering over the play button, ready to press it the second Chimon appeared from the kitchen.

“Wait for me! I’m making hot choco!” Chimon yelled back. He quickly went out of the kitchen, balancing three mugs on a small tray and bringing them carefully to the coffee table.

Nanon chuckled at the sight. “You don’t even remember the drink once the movie starts,” he teased, shaking his head in adoration. He was wrapped in a thin yet warm blanket that also covered Ohm’s legs beside him, too comfortable to move and help Chimon.

“Shut up,” Chimon muttered, throwing himself between the two—his favorite spaces, the one and only spaces that always belonged to him. “But, hey, you always like my drinks, right?”

Ohm’s arms automatically came to rest around Chimon’s shoulders the moment he was there, as if that was a muscle memory to him. “Yeah. Love your food too,” he nodded.

Chimon scoffed, making Nanon laugh beside him. “Love everything you do. You're our emotional support human,” Nanon said as he leaned his head onto Chimon’s shoulder.

Chimon was about to reply when Nanon’s arm slipped around his waist, pulling him closer. A smile tugged at Chimon’s lips before he knew it. He liked this feeling—the warmth, the closeness. Just the three of them, tucked away from the noisy world outside, watching a movie they’d probably seen a dozen times.

Their friendship has always been like this, a kind of closeness that people whispered, wondering where friendship ended and something else began but never quite understood.

They had been growing up together since high school. Ohm, the noisy one; Nanon, with his unpredictable jokes and sarcasm; and Chimon, the quiet glue that held both ends together. Seven years later, nothing had really changed.

Until Ohm and Nanon fell in love.

Chimon was not surprised. He somehow could see it, the quiet chemistry in the way they talked when he wasn’t in the room, the gentler touches when they thought he wasn’t looking. He was not surprised. But, what did surprise him was how nothing really changed.

Their little fun dates still included him; from the mandatory weekend movie nights, the late night ice cream trips in minimarket, to all the small touches that never disappeared. The way his shoulder brushed Nanon’s while his leg pressed against Ohm’s in the dining table or the way he still sat in the spaces between them when they were watching movies—between their linked hands, between Ohm’s gentle strokes over Nanon’s hair from the hand wrapped on top of his shoulder.

It was never romantic, but it was built on years of warmth and intimacy. Something too deep to be labelled, too natural to question. He was always part of them.

“Don’t you think it will be fun if we move in together?” Ohm blurted suddenly, making Chimon and Nanon looked at him weird.

“Yeah, and you would just be a burden,” Nanon replied flatly, earning a laugh from Chimon who then nodded in agreement.

“Exactly. You’ll be cooking,” Ohm pointed at Chimon before shifting to Nanon, “you do the cleaning and I’m doing nothing! Perfect combo.”

Nanon smacked the back of his head. “Only if you pay the rent.”

“Easy. Of course I’ll be taking care for both of you. Right, Chim?” Ohm looked at Chimon with a grin. His hands ruffled his fringe gently.

Before Chimon could respond, Nanon tightened the hug around his waist. “Well, it's not a doubt to take care of Chimon,” he murmured, rubbing his cheek against Chimon's shoulder.

Chimon just laughed softly.

He never expected more for their friendship. For him, the rain, film, and a blanket wrapped around the three of them is enough to fulfill his life. For him, it was a perfect life already.

He only hoped it would last forever.

But then again, not everything could last forever, right?

Chapter Text

It started small; Ohm taking longer to reply to messages, Nanon spending more time out on his own, and their group chat slowly losing its laughter.

Maybe they were just busy. At least that was what Chimon kept talking to himself. They had just graduated from university, after all. Ohm had gotten a good job in the city, while Nanon was chasing small gigs that might finally make his singing dream come true.

But, Chimon couldn’t overlook the little changes in their everyday.

They no longer came to pick him up together after work. They no longer disappeared into their own little world while Chimon was busy cooking in the kitchen. The laugher, the teasing no longer coloured their days.

Chimon was too sensitive to pretend nothing had changed. They were still together, yes, but something had already gone missing.

“You know I’ve always wanted to be a singer, right?” Nanon’s voice echoed from inside the apartment, reaching Chimon who had just arrived with their delivered dinner in hand.

“And you are a singer here. You just want to leave, huh?”

“What? Are you–nevermind, you are so selfish.”

“Well, sorry for wanting us to stay together here.”

The tone of their voices sharpened. Chimon’s chest tightened. He didn’t want to hear no more. He took a deep breath before doing what he did best; pretending he hadn’t heard a thing and hiding it with his usual smile.

Opening the door, he said softly, “Come on, guys. Food’s here.”

Ohm and Nanon exchanged a glance before sighing. They both walked over to the coffee table, sitting down and unwrapping the food quietly, filling the air with heavy unspoken emotion.

“Chim, I need to tell you something,” Nanon said, voice low.

Chimon paused. His heart beat slower, heavier. Still, he forced a small smile. “What is it, Nan?”

“I got a contract offer. In Canada.”

Chimon’s brows rose in surprise. It was a big opportunity for Nanon! He couldn’t help but smile. “Seriously, Nan?” Without thinking, he pulled Nanon into a hug. “Congrats, Nan!”

Nanon chuckled softly, patting his back. “Thanks, Chim.”

Chimon loosened his hug to look at him, eyes bright. “How long will you be there?”

“Maybe six months at best,” Nanon replied. “You’ll barely notice I’m gone.”

Chimon nodded, but his eyes caught Ohm beside him, head down and quietly staring at his food like it held answers he didn’t want to say aloud. “But you’ll still come visit sometimes, right?” Chimon asked, his tone hopeful.

Nanon smiled, that same calm smile that always reassured him. “Of course. I’ll call you often too.”

Chimon’s shoulders relaxed. “Good. Then we’ll keep doing video calls, the three of us.”

Nanon glanced toward Ohm and sighed lightly. “You know Ohm doesn’t like video calls.”

Ohm frowned. “Who’s the busy one again?”

Nanon laughed softly, more like scoffing, and Chimon followed, trying to lighten the air between them. But even he could hear the emptiness in his voice.

“Let’s eat before it gets cold,” he said, looking down.

Chimon didn’t dare meet their eyes. He knew that if he did, even just one look into either of them, then the fragile wall he’d built inside himself would shatter. And all the tears he’d promised not to cry would finally fall.

Chapter Text

That afternoon, the sky was brighter than usual. As if it knew that even with all the sunshine, it still couldn’t outshine the heaviness in their hearts.

The three of them stood together at the airport, sending Nanon off to Canada to chase his dream.. In front of the departure gate, tears were already pooling in Chimon’s eyes. This time, he couldn’t hold them back.

“Be safe…” he whispered with his lips trembling.

Nanon smiled faintly. Even he himself tried to stay strong, though his chest ached with the same sorrow. Then he pulled Chimon into his arms, holding the smaller figure close. There, amidst the noise of flight announcements and hurried footsteps, time seemed to stop.

His hand stroked Chimon’s back gently as his face sank into Chimon’s hair, breathing in that familiar sweet milky scent. Nanon breathed it in deeply, as if memorizing it, keeping it close for the long months he would spend far away from his dearest friend.

“Take care of yourself, Chim.”

Chimon didn’t answer. His sobs grew heavier, soaking through Nanon’s shirt.

“It’s okay, I’ll call you often, alright?” Nanon said softly, gently pushing him back just enough so they could see each other’s faces.

Chimon’s eyes were swollen and red, his cheeks streaked with tears, and his lips trembling downward. Yet his hands still clung to Nanon’s waist. “Promise?” he asked, almost whispering.

Nanon smiled, showing the gentle, dimpled smile that Chimon loved. “I promise.” He patted Chimon’s head lightly. “Now I have to check in, okay?”

Chimon didn’t want to let go, but he nodded anyway, stepping back slowly.

“Take care over there.”

“Always.” Nanon was still smiling. Then his gaze shifted to Ohm, who stood still a few steps behind Chimon. No sign of wanting to come closer and saying goodbye. As if there was a wall he built to keep him out of the ache of being left behind. “Ohm, take care of Chimon, okay?”

“I will take care of him,” Ohm said simply, his voice flat. Chimon turned to glance at him.

That familiar tightness returned to his chest.

No hug. No tears. No “I’ll miss you.”

Just silence, and the space between them growing wider.

Chimon knew.

This was the beginning of the end of their friendship.

The following weeks unfolded just as Chimon had feared, and he wished they would never.

Nanon still sent updates in their group chat, sending photos from the recording studio, pictures of the streets near his apartment, new foods he tried, and eventually, news of his first single released under a big label.

Chimon was happy for him. Truly. He replied whenever he could, cheering him on. But Ohm... barely responded. Busy, he said. Work demanded too much of his time.

Chimon was glad that both of his friends were walking toward their own success, but… did moving forward always have to mean walking apart?

Chimon became the bridge between two hearts that no longer spoke, the messenger who carried words that were never sent directly. Still, Chimon kept believing that one day, somehow, they would find their way back together again.

Back to laughter that filled the nights.

Back to warmth that outshone the rain.

But hope stayed as hope.

One night, Nanon called.

“Chim…” his voice cracked and trembled, as if every word was holding back tears.

“I think it’s over.”

Silence.

Even the ticking clock on the wall felt too loud.

Nanon, the one who always smiled, had finally broken down his defense stronghold. His sobs filled the night, and this time, Chimon was the one who had to stay strong.

He didn’t know what to say. He just held his phone tightly, as if through it, he could somehow hold Nanon together, reaching his shaking shoulders.

“I’m tired, Chim. I don’t think I can do this anymore…”

Chimon wanted to speak, but no words came out. So he just sat there, listening through the night, with a half-empty mug on the table. The blanket they used to share now felt unbearably heavy against his skin.

He didn’t cry. Not yet.

He only felt the emptiness spreading inside him as Nanon cries on the other end of the line.

Chimon realized,

They’d all been holding each other so tightly, no one had learned how to stand alone.

And if they’re not us anymore, then who is he now?

Chapter Text

The small apartment that once brimmed with life now echoed with emptiness.

Not the kind of silence that soothes, but the kind that devours—slow, biting, and cruel, seeping slowly through the cracks and even the walls seemed to mock his loneliness, echoing the loss he tried so hard to hide. 

Chimon used to love this calm. He was the still point between Ohm’s restless energy and Nanon’s endless chatter, standing in the middle, soaking up their laughter and calming the chaos that filled their days.

But silence had a way of changing shape. It wasn’t peace he felt. It was emptiness. A hollow stillness that made the ticking clock sound like a small blade, counting down the seconds of a life that had forgotten how to be lived.

No more laughter filling the room, no more footsteps and playful bickering coming from the other side of the door.

Only memories, refusing to leave.

The toothbrushes left behind,

The mugs marked with each personality,

The thin blanket resting unused at the end of the sofa,

and the photograph on the fridge, three faces frozen in a happiness that no longer existed.

Chimon couldn’t throw them away.

He just… ignored them, or at least, tried to.

He just learned to live with the fact that every time he washed his face, there would still be three toothbrushes lined up by the sink; every time he opened the fridge, their smiling faces would greet him; and every time he lay on the sofa, he could still see the three of them watching films and sipping his hot chocolate together.

But after a while, even pretending not to notice began to hurt.

Until one day, he stopped trying.

He stopped going to the bathroom.
Stopped opening the fridge.
Stopped leaving his room.

He hid inside, letting the hours drip by like leaking water—slow, meaningless—until night and morning blurred into one. Sometimes, the sound of rain woke him, and he cried without knowing why. Sometimes, hunger clawed at him, and he silenced it with stale biscuits and tears. The world outside no longer felt like his.

Three days passed before his phone finally rang.

The light from the screen stung his eyes, so used to the dark. A name flashed across it, Nanon.

“Hey, Chim!”

That voice was bright and alive, like sunlight after months of rain. Not like the last time they called.

“Guess what? My song’s gone viral!”

Chimon froze for a few seconds. It took him a while to process that someone still remembered him before he understood what Nanon had said. He hadn’t checked social media for weeks. The last message he’d sent was to tell work he’d be taking sick leave until the end of the week.

“Oh, really?” His throat felt dry from disuse. “I’m happy for you,” he managed, forcing his tone to sound cheerful.

There was a pause. “Are you sick, Chim?” Nanon asked gently.

“Ah, no,” he replied too quickly. “But it’s indeed just been raining a lot here.”

The first lie, and it tasted bitter.

“Oh gosh. Are you eating properly?”

That question hung in the air.

When was the last time he had a proper meal? He couldn’t remember.

“Yeah, I am.”

The second lie.

Chimon almost laughed. Even he didn't believe in himself anymore.

“Alright then, take care of yourself,” Nanon continued. “Oh, do you still talk to Ohm sometimes?”

Ohm.

It had been a long time.

Chimon stared at the ceiling before answering softly, “Yeah, we still talk sometimes.”

The third lie.

And strangely, each lie came easier than the last. As if lying was the only way left to survive.

“Oh, by the way,” he said quickly, changing the subject, “congrats again. The song’s really good. Don’t forget to celebrate and write more.”

“Thanks, Chim.” Nanon’s voice brightened again. “Anyway, I’ve got to go! Recording session’s starting soon!”

Chimon smiled faintly. “Okay, Nan. Take care.”

“You too. Bye bye!”

Then the line ended with a soft click,

and silence filled the room once more.

Somehow, the silence cut deeper this time, mocking every lie he told just to sound alive.

Chimon closed his eyes.

Nanon’s voice echoed in his head, warm and vibrant, a reminder that the world kept moving, even when he had stopped.

Hearing that bright voice again made him realize, maybe it was time to find his own reason to keep going.

He couldn’t stay trapped in this apartment forever.

Slowly, he pulled the blanket off. His feet felt like stone, but he moved, one step then another, walking past the memories he had avoided for so long. He stepped into the bathroom and faced the mirror. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, his hair was a mess, and his pajamas wrinkled from days of wear.

He almost didn’t recognize himself.

Chimon stared longer, tracing the tired lines carved by sleepless nights.

“When did I change this much?” he whispered, barely audible.

No answer. Only the fog of his breath, spreading across the mirror, blurring the face that once belonged to him.

And in that blur, he saw it, the truth that cuts deeper than loss.

It wasn’t just Nanon or Ohm he had lost.

He had lost himself, too. Piece by piece, until all that remained was a shadow of who he used to be.

Chapter Text

The afternoons were always the busiest hours in the café. Filled with the hum of life. The hiss of the coffee machine mingled with laughter, chatter, and the fingers tapping of laptop keyboard. People came and went. Workers lost in their screens, students still in uniforms, and their voices coloring the air with warmth.

Everything pulsed with life.

Except for that one corner.

From the table he stood, Perth watched Chimon behind the counter. He had always been the light of this place. His smile spread faster than the scent of coffee, welcoming every customer with warmth. Just by watching him, Perth used to find himself smiling too.

But lately, that light had dimmed.

His smile no longer reached his eyes. His laughter felt rehearsed. His skin had gone pale, his frame swallowed by his own shirt. His mind seemed distant, floating somewhere beyond reach.

Something was wrong.

This wasn’t exhaustion. It was a loneliness pressing inward.

“You okay, Chim?”

Perth finally asked, softly, once the crowd had thinned. Chimon had already made two mistakes in taking orders that day. Perth had to gently take over the job and asked him to rest in the back.

Chimon glanced up as Perth followed him to the back, guilt flickering across his tired eyes. “Sorry for the trouble,” he said, almost whispering.

“It’s fine,” Perth said, his voice calm, kind. “You should take a break if you’re not feeling well.”

Chimon looked at him for seconds, hesitated, as if debating the truth. “I’m fine,” he said as he nodded, convincing himself.

But Perth could see through the lie. That face was too honest to hide the pain. Perth was about to say something if the bell didn’t ring, and maybe it was for the best. He didn’t want to push Chimon. He was afraid there were wounds that weren't ready to be touched.

The next morning, Chimon didn’t come. He had never skipped a shift without warning. It made Perth had to work the day alone, juggling orders while his eyes darted to the door every time the bell chimed. But the face he waited never walked in.

“Chimon’s taking sick leave for a few days. Anyone who wants to cover his shifts, let me know.”

By afternoon, the manager spoke. Perth shouldn’t have been surprised yet somehow, a few days sounded heavier than he’d imagined.

“I can take them,” he offered quickly.

“You sure you can handle double shifts?”

Perth nodded. Whatever it took, he would do it. Whatever to support him, in silence, like he always used to. If it meant Chimon could rest, recover, and the smile would rise again.

At least, that was what Perth believed. But, three days passed, he still worked more than 12 hours a day, waiting for Chimon to come back. Exhaustion settled deep into his bones, but his mind never stilled. He always wondered if Chimon was eating, if he was sleeping, if he was in his room by himself, burying the storm inside him alone.

Everything will be worth it if I can see his smile again. Perth thought.

But the smile didn’t come back.

On the fourth day, Chimon decided to go back to work. The bell echoed through the midday bustle. The black cap shadowed most of his face, his uniform hanging loosely off his thinner frame.

Perth froze to the view, breath catching. He didn’t look better. Not even close.

“You feeling better?” Perth asked when they met in the backroom.

Chimon lifted his head, and Perth’s heart clenched. His eyes were dull, the skin beneath them bruised with sleeplessness. His lips cracked, colorless. The face had lost its soul.

“Chim, are you sure you can work today?”

Chimon nodded. “I can,” he rasped, voice low, dry, unfamiliar. “Oh, and… thanks for covering all my shifts. I heard from the manager.”

There was a smile he tried on his face, and Perth, helplessly, smiled back. “No problem. It’s been quiet without you,” he said lightly. “Even the regulars miss you. They said our latte art’s been looking sad lately.”

A faint, almost soundless chuckle escaped Chimon’s lips. But that was enough. Perth clung to it like air.

The days crawled by after that.

Chimon was back, but half of him wasn’t. His movements were slower, uncertain like he was relearning the recipe his hands once knew by heart; his fingers trembled when he poured milk; and his gaze sometimes drifted, lost somewhere no one could follow.

Perth never pushed. He simply watched from a distance, quietly stepping in when Chimon’s fingers faltered or his mind wandered too far. He didn’t want to make him feel small. He just wanted to keep him from breaking further.

At least until the smile didn’t look forced anymore.

“You look better,” Perth said as the café emptied.

“I still made a lot of mistakes,” Chimon murmured, eyes fixed on his hands. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Take your time.”

Something in that gentle tone made Chimon pause. The warm smile on his face seemed to reassure him that it was okay, that he could walk slowly, that he could still breathe.

“Thanks, Perth.”

For the rest of the shift, Perth caught glimpses of him with eyes empty, standing before the coffee machine. When their eyes met, Chimon smiled weakly and bowed apologetically before returning to his work.

Perth never asked again. Instead, he brewed a warm matcha latte, Chimon’s current favorite, and set it quietly on the counter.

“At least rest for a bit,” he’d say.

Chimon wanted to refuse, muttering that he was fine. But eventually, he’d give in. The warmth might be just what he needed. He would take the cup in both hands, sitting behind the counter, letting the steam fog his face while Perth continued his work.

“Why do you like closing shifts?” Chimon asked later.

It was late, the café nearly empty, making Perth and Chimon start to clean up around them.

Perth glanced over. “Why do I like them?” He thought for a moment. “Mornings are too quiet. Nights feel… more alive.”

“Because it’s lonely?”

He nodded, watching as Chimon looked down. His eyes caught a bitter smile behind the hair that covered his expression.

“I know that feeling,” Chimon whispered.

For a moment, their eyes met. Briefly. Behind Chimon’s tired gaze was a fragility that made Perth’s heart ache, a silence so full it almost spoke.

In that quiet night, something softened. Chimon found his composure, allowing him to breathe in, as if Perth’s quiet presence made the world a little less heavy.

Between loneliness and a smile learning to return, something gentle lingered. A fragile warmth; fleeting, but real.

And for that moment, it was enough.