As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a final golden glow over the Han River, Jiwoon found himself lost in thought. He aimlessly strolled through the bustling streets of Seoul, the vibrant city lights a blur around him. His mind, however, kept circling back to Taeyang, his sudden exhaustion, his uncharacteristic behavior, the constant, deep worry he had seen etched in Hana's eyes. There is something more to this, he mused, a persistent intuition nagging at him. He knew Taeyang was not simply a workaholic.
But before he could dwell on it further, before the pieces of his intuition could fully coalesce, something violently caught his attention. A figure near the Han River bridge. A desperate, almost cinematic movement. And then, someone jumped. The sight was instantaneous, chilling, pulling him from his introspection.
Jiwoon's body moved before his mind could fully process the shock. He sprinted toward the bridge, his instincts, honed by years as an officer, kicking in with adrenaline-fueled precision. His uniform might be off, but the drive to protect remained.
At the same time, another figure, equally swift, rushed forward from the opposite direction, a silhouette against the fading light. Taeyang.
Jiwoon barely had time to react before both of them lunged simultaneously, a shared, desperate effort. Each man grabbed one of the boy's flailing arms just as he was about to slip into the dark, unforgiving waters below. Jiwoon tightened his grip, muscles straining, his feet scrambling for purchase on the slippery concrete, as the unexpected weight of the boy threatened to pull him down into the frigid depths.
Taeyang, holding onto the other arm with an equally fierce tenacity, met Jiwoon's gaze for the very first time. Jiwoon's breath hitched slightly in recognition, a faint jolt passing through him. He had seen him before, a fleeting glimpse, back when Hana had fallen from the rooftop into the pool. He was the one who had jumped after her without hesitation, a blur of decisive action. The memory, once a vague impression, has now crystallized into sharp clarity.
Their eyes locked, a profound, unspoken understanding passing between them in that critical moment. There was no time for introductions, no need for words. Only the shared, primal urgency of saving a life.
Without a single verbal command, they worked together with seamless coordination born of necessity, pulling the boy back over the railing. The boy collapsed onto the cold, unforgiving ground, gasping, shaking uncontrollably, but profoundly, miraculously, alive.
Jiwoon exhaled sharply, a ragged breath escaping his lips as relief washed over him. He looked at Taeyang once more, a long, assessing gaze. This was their first time face to face, their first real interaction, but he already knew this wasn't just any man. This was a man of quiet strength, of unwavering loyalty.
And now, as the adrenaline slowly receded, things were beginning to make a terrifying, uncomfortable sense in Jiwoon's mind.
Jiwoon stood there, catching his breath, his chest heaving, as the boy continued to tremble on the pavement, clinging to his newfound life. His grip slowly loosened on the railing, but his mind only tightened, focusing with an almost painful clarity on one single thought: Taeyang.
This was him. Hana's best friend. The man she talked about endlessly, whose habits and quirks she knew intimately, whose presence in her life was as constant as her breath. The one who had been on Jiwoon's mind all day, a puzzle he had not quite been able to solve.
Jiwoon had mixed feelings about meeting him for the first time. Just moments ago, he had been consumed with worry about Taeyang, trying to piece together what was wrong, what unseen burden he carried. But now that he was standing right in front of him, the immediate reality of their unspoken rivalry settled in.
This was not just some guy Hana cared about. This was his direct competitor for her heart, a formidable presence.
Yet, despite the complex, swirling emotions stirring in him, the unexpected surge of jealousy, the dawning recognition of a powerful rival, Jiwoon could not ignore the concern still lingering in the back of his mind. Taeyang looked truly exhausted, like he was carrying a burden too heavy to bear alone, a weight that threatened to crush him. The deep shadows under his eyes, the subtle tremor in his hands, spoke of a profound weariness that went beyond simple overwork.
Jiwoon clenched his jaw, a muscle twitching in his cheek. He did not know whether to feel threatened by him or genuinely worried for him. The two emotions clashed, a bewildering contradiction.
"Are you okay now?" Taeyang asked the boy, his voice soft, gentle, as he rubbed his back with a comforting hand. His compassion was evident, a genuine concern that momentarily overshadowed the unspoken tension between the two men.
The boy, still gasping for breath, nodded weakly but did not speak, his body shaking with the aftershocks of trauma. His hands trembled as he clutched his sleeves tightly, eyes wide with residual fear.
Jiwoon, still catching his breath, crouched down beside them. His sharp, trained gaze locked onto the boy. "Why did you jump?" he asked, his voice firm but not unkind, seeking to understand the root of such desperation.
The question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken pain. The boy flinched slightly, his shoulders tensing as if debating whether to answer, whether to reveal the raw wound that had driven him to such an extreme act.
Taeyang and Jiwoon exchanged another glance, one filled with silent understanding, a recognition of their shared mission. They did not know each other, not truly, but at this crucial moment, they had the same immediate goal.
To save this boy.
And maybe, in different ways, they were both trying to save themselves too, grappling with their unspoken loves and burdens.
The boy hesitated for a long moment, the silence amplifying his inner turmoil, before finally mumbling, "It was love." His voice cracked, barely above a whisper, filled with a raw, profound despair.
Jiwoon and Taeyang both sighed at the same time, a synchronized exhalation of understanding and a touch of world-weary resignation.
Of course, it was love. What else could drive someone to such a desperate act?
Taeyang ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly. "You nearly threw your life away over love?" His tone was not harsh, but there was something heavy in his voice, something personal, something that resonated with his secret struggles and the overwhelming power of his affection for Hana. He recognized the depth of the boy's despair, even if he could not sanction his actions.
Jiwoon leaned back slightly, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the trembling boy. "Let me guess. She left, and you thought you had nothing else to live for? That your world had ended?"
The boy lowered his head, shame creeping onto his face, his words almost swallowed by the night. "She was everything to me, my reason for everything."
Taeyang's jaw clenched, a muscle working beneath his skin. Jiwoon simply shook his head, a mixture of pity and a strange frustration in his expression.
For two men who were silently competing over the same woman, two men who understood the overwhelming power of love and loss, hearing someone give up so easily over it felt almost frustrating, a profound disconnect from their unwavering resolve. Their love, even in its unrequited or unexpressed forms, fueled a desire to fight, not to surrender.
But neither of them said that out loud. Instead, they both sat there, watching the boy, lost in their own complicated emotions, reflecting on the fragility and fierce intensity of human connection.
After giving the boy a firm but understanding lecture about the irreplaceable value of life, about finding strength beyond romantic attachments, Taeyang let out a small sigh, his gaze softening. "Come on, I will drop you home." He extended a hand to help the boy up.
The boy hesitated, glancing between the two formidable men who had just saved him, before finally nodding, a silent gesture of acceptance and gratitude.
Taeyang then turned to Jiwoon, his eyes studying him for a moment. It was their first time truly speaking, their first real interaction outside the desperate urgency of the rescue. There was something unspoken between them: acknowledgment, curiosity, and the subtle, simmering tension of their unexpected rivalry.
Before Jiwoon could say anything, before he could formulate a proper introduction, Taeyang asked, his voice calm and direct, "Will you come?" It was an invitation, a shared responsibility, a subtle test.
Jiwoon did not hesitate. He met Taeyang's gaze, a quiet challenge in his own eyes, and nodded. "Of course." There was no need for explanations. The implicit trust forged in the shared act of heroism was enough.
Without another word, the three of them made their way to Taeyang's car, parked a short distance away. The rescued boy sat quietly in the backseat, still shaken, but noticeably calmer than before, his earlier despair replaced by a dawning sense of relief.
Jiwoon slid into the passenger seat, glancing at Taeyang as he started the engine. There was no small talk, no unnecessary words, just a quiet understanding that they had to get this boy home safely, that the mission was not yet complete.
As the car moved through the streets of Seoul, the silence wasn't uncomfortable, but it wasn't exactly easy either. It was a silence charged with unspoken thoughts, with newly recognized rivalries. Jiwoon, arms crossed loosely over his chest, stared out the window, still processing everything: the rescue, the identity of Taeyang, the unsettling realization of their emotional entanglement with Hana.
Taeyang, gripping the wheel, focused on the road, navigating the city's late evening traffic, but his mind was elsewhere, clearly burdened by his hidden struggles.
For two people who barely knew each other, whose paths had only just intersected in such a dramatic fashion, they had already been thrown into something profound and unexpected. Their lives, previously separate, were now irrevocably linked by fate, by shared heroism, and by the woman they both loved.
As the car rolled through the dimly lit streets, the gentle hum of the engine filling the quiet space, the boy in the backseat let out a tired sigh. "Love is strange, isn't it?" His voice was reflective, tinged with a lingering sadness.
Taeyang kept his eyes on the road, but his grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly, his knuckles whitening. The boy's simple statement seemed to resonate deeply with his own complex emotions. Jiwoon, arms still crossed, glanced at the rearview mirror before looking out the window again, his mind already formulating a response.
Jiwoon finally spoke, his voice steady but firm, a quiet conviction in his tone. "You should fight for what you love." His words were directed at the boy, but his gaze briefly met Taeyang's.
Taeyang, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter, glanced ahead before replying, his tone calm but unwavering, a counterpoint to Jiwoon's resolve. "Yes… But you should hold tight to what you love, too." His words, delivered with quiet intensity, were a direct challenge, a clear declaration of his intentions.
Their eyes met for a brief moment, a silent clash of wills.
In Taeyang's gaze, there was a quiet determination, the look of someone who had something infinitely precious, something he had possessed for a long time, and who refused, absolutely refused, to let it slip away. His eyes held a possessive warmth, a deep-rooted claim.
In Jiwoon's, there was a challenger's resolve, a burning ambition. The unwavering gaze of someone who had decided, unequivocally, to step forward and claim what he wanted, to fight for a future he now envisioned.
The tension lingered between them, thick yet unspoken, a silent battleground of wills and desires.
The boy in the back, oblivious to the deeper meaning behind their words, to the intense unspoken dialogue between the two men in the front, sighed again. "Guess I lost before I could even fight."
Neither Jiwoon nor Taeyang responded to his comment. Their focus remained on each other, on the quiet understanding that had just passed between them.
Because for them, the real fight was only just beginning.
As the car rolled through the dimly lit streets, a new kind of quiet settled in the passenger seat. Jiwoon leaned back in his seat, fingers tapping lightly against his arm, a nervous energy pulsating beneath his calm exterior. His gaze flickered toward Taeyang, who remained silent, focused on the road ahead, his profile resolute.
"Yes… But you should hold tight to what you love, too."
Jiwoon replayed those words in his head, the cadence of Taeyang's voice, the quiet intensity behind them. They weren't just meant for the distraught boy in the backseat. No Taeyang had said them like a warning, like a clear, unmistakable claim.
He's already holding on, isn't he? Jiwoon thought, the realization hitting him with the force of a physical blow. He wasn't just observing a friend's worry; he was observing a man in love, a man who believed he already had the prize.
Jiwoon had suspected it before, of course, the lingering unease that had permeated his thoughts about Hana's close bond with Taeyang. But now it was clear, undeniable. Taeyang wasn't just Hana's best friend. He wasn't just overworking himself for some vague, professional reason.
There was something in his eyes tonight, something deeper, a desperate, fierce possessiveness he hadn't fully recognized until this moment. A man standing his ground. A man unwilling to let go of what he considered rightfully his.
Jiwoon exhaled slowly, his lips curving slightly into a determined, almost grim smile. So, you're trying to hold onto her, Taeyang?
Then his own words came back to him, echoing with a new, powerful resonance—"You should fight for what you love."
Taeyang was holding on.
But Jiwoon?
He was ready to fight. His resolve solidified, a burning conviction settling deep within him.