In the days following the book signing, a quiet winter settled between Sea and Jimmy.

They still worked together.

Still discussed Day's manuscript.

Still fixed fonts, refined plotlines, and polished dialogue.

But every word outside of work... vanished.

No more "Have you eaten?"

No more post-it notes with smiley faces.

No more peach yogurt waiting on his desk.

No more LINE messages reminding him to eat on time.

Sea no longer dared to knock on Jimmy's door for little things.

No longer dared to message him casually.

He didn't even know if he still had the "right" to care for Jimmy the way he used to.

That feeling—of not knowing where you stand—was more exhausting than any deadline.

The fear of losing what might never have been his... Sea thought he'd buried it long ago.

But now, he was tiptoeing across a fragile sheet of ice. One wrong step, and he'd fall into the unnamed void of something not quite love... not quite anything.

He didn't text Jimmy—not out of pride or a desire to be chased—but because he was afraid.

Afraid of bothering him.
Afraid of being seen as clingy.
Afraid that if Jimmy saw a message from him, he'd sigh and think: "Him again?"
Afraid of that indifferent voice that only ever called his name when there was work to do.

And Sea... couldn't bear that version of reality.

So he pulled back.

Soft sunlight angled through the lobby, casting a golden hue across the floor tiles. The café near the entrance was mostly empty, filled only with the scent of espresso hanging in the air. Sea stepped up to the counter and ordered an iced Americano—something he used to hate. But these days, its bitterness didn't seem to bother Sea anymore.

"Sea?"

"P'June?" Sea blinked, surprised to see her.

The familiar voice came from the corner table near the glass wall. June was seated with one leg crossed, an iPad on her lap. Her hair was neatly tied up, one hand scrolling through her screen while the other clutched a half-empty mocha.

"Fueling up on caffeine, Nong?"

Sea nodded politely and smiled. "Yes, Phi. My eyes feel like they're about to fall out from staring at the screen."

"Sit for a bit?" She patted the seat beside her. "Taking breaks is an art during final-edit season."

Sea chuckled and took the offered seat.

They chatted a little—mostly about the publishing house's next big campaign. June sighed dramatically, elbow propped on the table.

"Deadlines are endless, I swear. The new author we just signed is this hotshot from Korea. The brief's gone back and forth three times and we still can't settle on a key visual. I want something trendy but not cringey. Push too far and it's tacky. Hold back and it gets lost in the feed."

Sea paused, then offered gently, "If you have time to tease the campaign with little quote snippets—no context, just suggestive lines—it might spark some curiosity."

June raised an eyebrow. "That's actually not bad. Build intrigue first, then connect it back to the main story. Very Gen Z."

Sea smiled modestly. "Just a small idea. It fits the current social media vibe."

June nodded thoughtfully. "You were born for media work. What a shame the teen novel department snatched you first."

They both laughed.

Sea was about to toss in another light comment when his gaze caught something familiar—someone stepping into the lobby.

Jimmy.

He'd just passed the reception desk. His eyes flicked—seemingly unintentionally—toward the café. And in that moment, they landed exactly on Sea and June, laughing together.

Sea instinctively stood up, ready to wave.

But Jimmy turned away.
Didn't stop.
Didn't wave.
Didn't react at all.

He simply walked toward the elevators like he hadn't seen anything.

Sea froze mid-motion. The smile hadn't even fully faded from his lips, but his chest felt suddenly hollow.

Was Jimmy really that upset?
So upset... he couldn't even say hello?

Sea sank back into his seat, lips pressed into a thin line. He stared into his cup, watching the ice slowly melt into the dark liquid.

June didn't notice the change in his expression. Still cheerful, she said, "By the way, the content you made for the event is still getting great engagement. Thank you, Nong. You've been a huge help. If you ever need anything, just ask."

Sea smiled faintly and responded, but his tone had lost its spark.

Jimmy's silence lingered in his chest like a quiet storm. Harsher than any reprimand.

That night, after work, it started to rain.

Thin streaks of water traced their way down the taxi windows, blurring the streetlights. Sea leaned against the door, chin resting on his hand, staring at his LINE screen.

Sea: P'Day, are you free tonight? Want to grab dinner and keep me company?

Within a minute, Day replied:

Day: Please save me. P'Mhok got dragged off to meet a new business partner. Said he'll be home late.

Sea: Meet at the usual spot? I'll go ahead and order.

The restaurant was a quiet little Thai place tucked in a side alley. Cozy, clean, private. It was where they'd ended up once, late after editing New Dawn until every other place had closed.

Sea arrived first, choosing the back corner table. He ordered dried shrimp fried rice, seafood tom yum, and grilled sausages. Day arrived shortly after, hoodie pulled over his head, hair a little messy from the rain.

He slumped into the chair with a groan. "Being single for one night feels twice as lonely."

Sea chuckled, pushing a glass of lemon water toward him. "Temporarily filling in for P'Mhok, I'm here to listen to you vent."

Day sipped his drink, then leaned forward with a sly grin. "But you didn't drag me out here just to feed me, right? What's going on?"

Sea hesitated for a beat.

Then, slowly, he began to talk—about the book signing, about June joking she'd steal him for her department, and most of all... about Jimmy. And the cold, aching silence he'd left behind, especially about this afternoon.

"He asked me if I wanted to transfer to Comm department. His tone... it felt like a send-off."

Sea's voice grew quieter.

"Since that day, he hasn't said a word to me unless it's work. He saw me today and just... looked away."

Day didn't respond right away. He chewed on a shrimp slowly, then set his fork down and turned to the window where rain had started to bead again.

"You know that breakup scene in New Dawn?" Day finally said. "When Day left Mhok? It wasn't because Mhok did anything wrong. It was because Day was afraid Mhok only stayed out of pity."

Sea looked up.

Day continued, softly, "You've probably guessed already... but New Dawn is basically a memoir of me and P'Mhok. Just a little more dramatic."

"That scene—when Day breaks up with Mhok? That really happened."

"I lost my sight. I tried so hard to act normal, to be independent. But I still felt... useless. Mhok took care of me like I was a rose being held in a glass container. He lied to me—said he didn't take a job offer in the States because he wasn't interested, when really... he just didn't want to leave me alone. I knew that. And I hated how helpless I felt."

"So I broke up with him."

Sea's lips tightened.

Day gave a wry smile. "Even when he came back and wanted to start over, I rejected him. Over and over. Not because I didn't love him—but because I needed to know he was there because he wanted to be. Not because he felt he had to be."

Then Day turned, and for the first time, his usually carefree gaze was piercing.

"Maybe P'Jimmy is feeling the same way as I was, Sea."

"He doesn't want you to leave. But if he keeps you without knowing for sure that you want to stay... that would be selfish. No one wants to hold onto someone with just a maybe."

"Maybe... he's waiting for a yes. A real confirmation one."

Sea clutched his glass, heart thudding.

One word. Just one clear answer.

When Sea first joined Kumaumi, he simply wanted to be near the person he admired. But over time, through sleepless edits, back-and-forth drafts, and those shared, quiet nights... he had grown to love the work itself. Deeply. Completely.

"I don't want to go anywhere," he whispered.

Day smiled, pulled out his phone, quickly sent a message, and went back to his rice like nothing happened—while Sea sat there, heart burning like a gas stove just clicked on.

They finished their meal with full bellies and quiet laughs. Sea leaned back with a groan.

"P'Day, want to go for a drink with me? I need some alcohol to fuel my courage..."

But Day simply signaled toward the window.

A familiar black car pulled up outside.

Its headlights shimmered through the rain, casting soft gold against the glass.

The door opened. There he was.

Mhok. Dressed in black, jeans and a bomber jacket. Looking like someone straight out of a romcom. But his eyes... were only for one person.

"Ready, little one? Let's go home."

His voice was low, warm—enough to make anyone melt.

Day didn't rush. He stood, casually grabbed his half-finished water, then strolled toward the door. His steps were light, but his gaze had already softened.

"You're early."

"Nong wanted to take me drinking," Day added, lips twitching.

Mhok arched an eyebrow but smiled, ruffling Day's hair like he was used to this exact kind of teasing.

"It's late. You've been out long enough."

Sea watched the scene unfold, practically choking on secondhand affection. But Day wasn't done.

He turned to Sea, winking. "Rain check on that drink. Someone's hovering too close for me to escape."

"I'm not hovering. I came to take what's mine," Mhok added, wrapping an arm around Day and steering him toward the car.

Day laughed and didn't resist. Just before getting in, he turned back and called out:

"Don't leave yet. I already called you a ride."

"Huh?" Sea blinked, but the car was already rolling away, leaving him under the soft glow of the streetlight with a confused face and a warmed heart.

"Seriously... couple goals," Sea muttered. "And he didn't even tell me the license plate for the car ride."

He sighed, checked the time.

Exactly five minutes later, the sound of a familiar engine hummed down the road.

Sea turned, heart skipping.

A silver car pulled up. No headlights flashing, no honking.

Just him.

P'Jimmy.

Wearing a navy shirt, hands steady on the wheel, eyes unreadable in the shifting light.

The window lowered. Rain-laced air drifted in.
And a voice—deep and familiar—called out:

"Get in."

In front of Sea's house.

The car rolled to a stop by the curb under the soft amber hue of the streetlight, casting the shadows of the two of them against the fogged-up window.

Inside, Jimmy hadn't turned off the engine. The hum of the air vents blended with the quiet of the night, time moving slowly outside the glass.

Sea sat still in the passenger seat, fingers laced together in his lap, eyes fixed ahead but not really looking at anything. His heart beat in a steady rhythm, but there was a tightness in his chest he couldn't quite shake.

"Phi..."
"Sea..."

"You go first Phi."

"I'm sorry... for avoiding you these past few days."

Sea blinked, surprised by how direct Jimmy was. He hadn't expected an apology—not like this. Not from him.

"There are things I should've faced... honestly and directly."

Sea froze for a second, eyes flickering with something between confusion and hope.

Jimmy turned toward him, gaze unflinching, voice low and deliberate:

"I thought... if you truly belonged in media, you should go there. It's where your expertise lies, where you'd grow. And as your supervisor, it's my job to guide you toward where you can shine the brightest."

Sea pressed his lips together. Jimmy was still speaking like a supervisor—like someone detached.

"I've been thinking... that I should encourage you to return to your field."

"But..."

He paused.

"...what you did at the book signing. The feedback from the author, from June, what I saw with my own eyes... You don't just have skill. You've got discipline. Sensitivity and sensible. A way of reading between the lines."

Sea's lips parted slightly. He hadn't realized Jimmy had been paying such close attention.

Jimmy looked straight ahead again, as if unwilling to let too much emotion show.

"Editing isn't easy. Every manuscript is more than just words—it's the author's heart, their roots. If you don't truly love it, you won't last."

"But if you do want to keep going... I'll keep guiding you. Until the day you no longer need me."

"I hope... that one day, no matter where you are, that place will become your own stage."

Sea turned to look at him, blinking softly.

"I'm going to need a long time for that."

Jimmy let out the faintest curve of a smile but said nothing.

Sea inhaled, deep and slow, before speaking—calm, but with an unwavering certainty.

"At first, I just wanted to be near you. That felt like enough. But then, the more I edited, the more I sat in meetings, stayed up late revising drafts... the more I started to love it. For real. Genuinely."

"I want to do this job well."

Jimmy listened without interruption. Not a single word interjected.

Sea rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly laughing under his breath.

"You probably think I'm being dramatic, but..."

He turned to him, eyes bright with sincerity.

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying. And I'll do my best."

Jimmy held his gaze for a long while. No challenge in his eyes anymore. Only clarity.

"Good."

A beat of silence passed.

Then he added, "See you at the office tomorrow."

Sea let out a small laugh, reaching for the door handle.

"Yes, sir."

Just before stepping out, he didn't look back—only left behind a single, quiet sentence:

"Thank you... for believing in me. And also—"

"I'm already yours, aren't I? Where else could I possibly go?"

Jimmy watched his silhouette disappear through the gate.

His hand gripped the steering wheel, just slightly tighter than before—an unconscious reflex he couldn't explain.