[No-Ah]
The lunch rush had ended.
Which meant peace.
Temporary peace.
The café was quieter now.
Only a few customers remained.
The coffee machines had stopped screaming.
The line had disappeared.
And No-Ah was wiping tables.
Or at least—
She was supposed to be wiping tables.
The cloth moved back and forth.
Back and forth.
Back and—
"Kei."
His head lifted immediately.
"What?"
No-Ah stood in the bathroom doorway.
Holding up one of the bottles.
Silence.
A long silence.
For the first time all afternoon—
Kei stopped looking relaxed.
Not annoyed.
Not amused.
Not teasing.
Just—
Still.
No-Ah looked at the bottle.
Then at him.
Then at the cabinet.
Three bottles.
Used.
Not forgotten.
Used.
"How long?"
Kei's expression didn't change.
"What?"
"How long have you been taking these?"
His gaze dropped to the bottle.
Then away.
"I don't know."
"You don't know?"
"No."
"That's concerning."
"It's melatonin, not explosives."
"That's not the point."
"Then what is?"
No-Ah stepped out of the bathroom.
"The point is that normal people don't have three half-empty bottles hidden under their sink."
"They weren't hidden."
"They were literally under a sink."
"That's where things go."
"No, Kei."
Her grip tightened around the bottle.
"The point is that you're exhausted all the time."
"I'm fine."
"No."
"I'm alive."
"That isn't the same thing."
A pause.
Then:
"I sleep."
"When?"
"I don't know."
"Exactly."
Kei's jaw tightened.
Only slightly.
But she noticed.
Because for once—
He wasn't joking.
He wasn't dodging.
He wasn't turning everything into an argument.
He just looked tired.
Painfully tired.
And somehow—
That was worse.
No-Ah lowered her voice.
"How many hours?"
Kei didn't answer.
"Kei."
Silence.
"Kei."
"Enough."
"No."
His eyes flicked toward hers.
Sharp.
Warning.
Back off.
No-Ah ignored it.
"You look like you haven't slept properly in months."
"I'm busy."
"That's not an excuse."
"It is for me."
The answer came immediately.
Too immediately.
Like he'd repeated it enough times that he'd started believing it.
Something twisted unpleasantly in No-Ah's chest.
"You can't just keep doing this."
"Doing what?"
"This."
She held up the bottle.
"This."
His expression hardened.
Just a little.
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"Then explain it."
"No."
"Why?"
"Because I don't want to."
The apartment went quiet.
The kind of quiet that wasn't comfortable.
The kind that pressed against your ribs.
No-Ah stared at him.
Kei stared right back.
For once—
Neither of them looked away.
Then:
"It's not a big deal."
The words landed heavily.
Not because of what he said.
Because of how quickly he said it.
Like he'd practiced them.
Like he'd said them before.
To managers.
To staff.
To reporters.
To himself.
It's not a big deal.
Everything's fine.
I'm fine.
No-Ah hated it instantly.
"It is a big deal."
"No."
"It is."
"It isn't."
"You need sleep."
"I get sleep."
"You take supplements to force yourself to sleep."
"They help."
"They shouldn't have to."
Something flashed across Kei's face.
Gone almost immediately.
But she saw it.
And suddenly—
She understood.
The dark circles.
The late-night messages.
The exhaustion.
The way he'd looked half-dead after schedules.
The coffee.
The constant coffee.
One piece after another.
Fitting together.
Slowly.
Terribly.
"You're not resting."
Silence.
No joke.
No denial.
No comeback.
And somehow—
That answer was louder than anything he'd said.
No-Ah's stomach dropped.
"Kei..."
His gaze fell to the floor.
For the first time since she'd met him—
He looked tired enough to stop pretending.
Just for a second.
Just long enough.
Then the wall went back up.
Immediately.
"I'm fine."
"No, you're not."
"I'm functioning."
"That's not the same thing."
"It has to be."
The words escaped before he could stop them.
The room froze.
Kei's eyes widened slightly.
Like he regretted saying it.
Immediately.
No-Ah stared.
Because suddenly—
She wasn't looking at an idol.
Or a celebrity.
Or the world's most irritating human being.
She was looking at someone who genuinely didn't seem to remember what resting looked like.
The realization hit harder than she expected.
"Kei..."
This time his name sounded different.
Softer.
And somehow—
That made him look away.
Immediately.
Like he couldn't stand hearing it.
The silence stretched.
Then:
"Why do you care?"
The question was quiet.
Not defensive.
Not angry.
Just confused.
And that somehow hurt more.
Because he sounded like he genuinely didn't understand why anyone would.
No-Ah opened her mouth.
Then stopped.
Because she didn't have a prepared answer.
No joke.
No comeback.
No easy escape.
Just the truth.
So:
"Because someone has to."
The words slipped out.
Simple.
Honest.
The apartment went completely still.
Kei froze.
For a moment—
Neither of them moved.
Neither of them spoke.
And for the first time all day—
Kei looked completely caught off guard.
The kind of expression that only appeared when someone reached past all the walls and accidentally touched something real.
No-Ah looked away first.
Because suddenly the room felt too quiet.
Too small.
Too aware.
...
The cloth moved back and forth.
Back and forth.
Back and—
"No-Ah."
Nothing.
Back and forth.
"No-Ah."
Still nothing.
Back and—
"KIM NO-AH!"
She nearly threw the cloth across the café.
"What?!"
Min-Ji stared at her.
Then at the table.
Then back at her.
"..."
"..."
"You've been cleaning that table for seven minutes."
No-Ah looked down.
The table practically glowed.
"Oh."
"Oh?"
Min-Ji narrowed his eyes.
Immediately suspicious.
"What happened?"
"Nothing."
"Lie."
"It isn't."
"It is."
Min-Ji folded his arms.
Watching her carefully now.
Because despite the arguing—
He knew her.
And right now—
She wasn't really here.
"What happened?"
This time the question was quieter.
Genuine.
No-Ah looked down at the cloth in her hands.
And despite herself—
She heard the same words again.
Because someone has to.
For some reason—
That part wouldn't leave her alone.
☆ ☆ ☆