One evening, after another wreath appeared outside the company building, Juhoon finally broke. The moment he got home, he barely made it through the front door before sinking onto the floor. His breathing was uneven, shoulders shaking as he dragged a hand over his face. “Juhoon…” you whispered, kneeling beside him. When he looked up at you, his face was wet with tears. They kept slipping down faster than he could wipe them away, his eyes red and exhausted from trying to stay strong for so long. “I can handle them hating me,” he said shakily. “But if they come after you too…” Your heart ached hearing his voice crack like that. You cupped his face carefully, brushing away tears with your thumbs even as more fell against your hands. “Hey,” you said softly. “Look at me.” His gaze finally met yours. “We’ll get through this together. I’m not leaving you because of some sick people with flowers.” Juhoon let out a broken breath before leaning forward into you completely, hiding his face against your shoulder while you held him tightly in the quiet apartment.