Cherry lay curled up on the bed, the crumpled divorce papers beside him and the pillow soaked with silent tears. The shadows of the room clung to the walls like heavy guilt.
His fingers trembled as he reached for his phone.
He dialed the only number his heart remembered in that moment of desperation.
Ring. Ring.
"Cherry?" Jiyu's voice was brisk on the other end. "What happened? Why are you crying?"
Cherry sniffled, wiping his face with his sleeve. "Akira gave me… divorce papers…"
There was a beat of silence.
Then Jiyu practically burst with joy. "Then that's good news! Sign it—sign it, Cherry! We can be together again, just like before!"
Cherry paused, his lip quivering.
"…But, Jiyu…"
His voice cracked like porcelain.
"…I don't want this."
"What do you mean, Cherry?" Jiyu's tone shifted—sharper now, a thread of anger seeping in. "Don't play with me."
"I-It's just…" Cherry wailed, "He's just too handsome to leave! He has a jawline sharper than my future—how can I walk away from that?!"
"AHHHHHH!" Jiyu screamed on the other end. "Are you STUPID?! Sign those papers and stop being so dramatic! I'm coming to get you tomorrow. Understand? Understand or not, Cherry?!"
Cherry wiped his cheeks, eyes red and nose sniffling. "…Hmm…"
Jiyu sighed. "Good. And don't cry."
Click.
The call ended, but Cherry was still frozen there, phone slipping from his hand.
His thoughts drifted back to Akira.
His tall, strong frame… the stoic expression… the scars… the way his voice dipped when he was serious…
Cherry clutched his chest.
"…Why are you so hot even when you break my heart…" he whimpered, collapsing dramatically onto the bed.
Then, with a tragic breath and Shakespearean flair, he sat up, took a pen, and scribbled his name on the papers.
"…Bye bye, handsome mafia man… hic… hic…"
---
The Next Morning
The air was heavy. The tension—unspoken.
Cherry stood by the door, suitcase in hand. Jiyu was waiting outside, tapping his foot impatiently.
"…Here," Cherry mumbled, holding out the papers.
Akira took them without looking up. "Thanks."
Cherry stared at him for a moment longer. No reaction. No emotion.
His chest tightened.
"…Bye, Akira."
No answer.
Cherry stepped outside and shut the door behind him.
---
Inside the apartment, Akira let out a long, heavy sigh.
He turned and walked back into the living room.
Aki sat on the couch, legs crossed, arms folded, and an enormous pout painted on his ghostly face.
"You're so cruel," Aki grumbled. "Just like your dad."
Akira tossed the papers onto the table and sank into the couch with a tired grunt.
"Don't compare me to that monster."
Aki narrowed his eyes. "Then what's this? You said nothing about this plan. You refused to tell me what you were up to."
Akira smirked faintly, leaning back against the cushions. "This was the plan from the beginning."
Aki blinked. "Wait—you planned this whole thing?! You're evil! Do you just… throw people away for fun?! Who's going to live with you if you keep acting like this?!"
Akira tilted his head, gaze shifting toward Aki. His voice was quiet, but the words held weight.
"like you stayed ! ."
Aki flinched.
"I was trapped," he muttered. "If I were alive, I'd be beating you every day until you walked the right path."
Akira chuckled under his breath. A soft, tired sound.
"…Wish I could see that day."
The two of them sat in silence, a bittersweet stillness settling like dusk between old ghosts.