Separation anxiety.
You didn’t need a medical degree to recognize it. The Espers practically moved into the team office acted like they couldn’t stand to be apart. Even if he was just heading to the bathroom, they’d trail after him like ducklings. Try to change clothes in a corner, and someone would inevitably call out to him.
Whenever he left for a shift, one of the four was always glued to his side. Given how packed their schedules were, the fact that they still managed to stick close made it obvious—they probably had a group chat going behind his back, sharing updates and keeping tabs on him.
But they weren’t the only problem.
Heo Nan-gyeom had also been commuting to the team office instead of staying at the dorms. He didn’t say much, but living under the same roof meant running into him was inevitable. And every time, Heo Nan-gyeom would stare—relentlessly, like he was trying to drill a hole through him. Whenever Eun-jo shifted his gaze to avoid the discomfort, the guy would hit him with the weirdest questions.
“Do you like chicken?”
“Your cheeks are red. Are you sick?”
“Doesn’t it bother you to sleep wrapped up like that all night? Your arm must go numb.”
Even when Eun-jo answered curtly, the questions just kept coming. If he could at least figure out what Heo Nan-gyeom was getting at, he might’ve tried to play along. But this guy—he was impossible to read. Not even a sliver of intent showed in his expression. Even when Jung Tae-seok or Jin Mu-seong scolded him for staring too much, he never stopped watching.
Whether he liked chicken or not—seriously, who cared? Just thinking about running into the guy again outside the bathroom that morning made Eun-jo shake his head.
When Eun-jo opened the bathroom door, Heo Nan-gyeom was standing there like a loyal puppy waiting for its owner.
Before he could dodge, Heo Nan-gyeom pressed a towel into his hand.
“Your face turns red so easily.”
“…Sorry?”
“It’s brand new. No one’s used it.”
It was a pink towel with a teddy bear stitched right in the middle—the kind of thing a kid would use. Eun-jo stared at it, unsure what to say. Maybe his silence came off as rejection, because Heo Nan-gyeom promptly took the towel back.
“If you don’t want it, forget it.”
With that, he walked past and disappeared into his room.
Eun-jo remained frozen outside the bathroom, replaying the moment in his head.
It bothered him. He couldn’t quite name why—the way Heo Nan-gyeom stared like he was trying to read his mind, those inexplicably kind gestures, or the fact that even though he clearly knew Eun-jo wasn’t the real Yeo Eun-jo, he never asked again.
Not like I can tell a Team A member to stop coming to the team office.
And with Heo Nan-gyeom using the office as his home base, there was no avoiding him. Letting out a sigh, Eun-jo pictured that annoyingly handsome face—smooth and perfect, like a sculpted potato.
“…Maybe he’s into weird types…”
“Wait, are you saying I’m your type?”
Jung Tae-seok shot him a sideways glare. He’d insisted on going out since he had the day off, and now they were walking through a department store, having spent all morning getting dragged around.
Wearing a light-colored knit and a trench coat, he looked like he’d stepped straight out of a fashion spread. With his sharp features, soft brown hair, and golden eyes that practically glowed under the sun, Tae-seok was hard to miss.
Though honestly, even if you did manage to lose him, he’d probably be the one yelling “Hey, dumbass! I’m right here!” before you got a chance to look.
Eun-jo stared at him silently, and Tae-seok frowned.
“What, that’s not what you meant?”
He glanced around, eyes darting.
“Don’t tell me you’re talking about her. Seriously?”
“Huh?”
Following his gaze, Eun-jo spotted a woman holding hands with a little boy who looked about five. She was undeniably gorgeous, but Eun-jo didn’t feel a thing. Probably because juggling four Espers was already enough of a headache.
When did this become my life?
The thought made him laugh under his breath. It came so naturally to lump all four Espers together like that now.
“She doesn’t even know us. Whether she’s my type or not doesn’t matter.”
But the second those words left his mouth, Tae-seok stiffened like he’d heard a confession.
“Eun-jo hyung…”
He suddenly grabbed Eun-jo’s right hand and pulled him close. The moment their body heat touched, Eun-jo instinctively jerked away.
Smack.
The sound of their separation echoed in the air.
Tae-seok’s expression went cold. Not just annoyed—frozen. A chill rolled off him that hadn’t been there a moment ago. Flustered, Eun-jo clutched his own hand and looked at him.
“…Even if a stranger grabbed you, you wouldn’t have pulled away like that.”
“……”
“……”
“…Sorry.”
He realized right away he’d screwed up. But there was no undoing it now. Biting his lip, Eun-jo lowered his head. The air between them went heavy.
“It’s just…”
“……”
“…there’s no Guiding energy. I wasn’t sure if it’d feel off. I didn’t mean to…”
Sorry. The soft apology barely escaped him, his face clouded with guilt. Silence settled between them like fog. Maybe he should’ve just let Tae-seok hold his hand.
Too late now.
Tae-seok sighed quietly, then reached out again.
“Your hand.”
“…Okay.”
Eun-jo rested his hand in Tae-seok’s with a soft clap. Only then did Tae-seok’s expression finally ease, the tension melting from his face.
Lately, Eun-jo had started flinching every time someone touched him. He was fine while sleeping—he’d gotten used to it—but during the day, he kept pulling away just like this. Tae-seok had told him a hundred times that it wasn’t about Guiding or powers—he just wanted to be close. But Eun-jo was still the same.
After he’d even tripped trying to avoid a touch, the four Espers had stopped explaining altogether. Sometimes, just talking about it made things worse.
I should’ve been more careful.
Tae-seok clicked his tongue, looking down at Eun-jo’s lowered head. He stepped subtly in front of him, blocking the woman from view, and muttered,
“You can only feel it from behind anyway. Why stress over it?”
“…I wasn’t stressing.”
Eun-jo looked up, a little defensive. His wide eyes locked onto Tae-seok’s, and the older man let out a sharp tsk.
“Not stressing, my ass. You were staring so hard I thought your soul left your body.”
“It was exactly thirty seconds!”
He’s the one who brought it up in the first place! Flustered, Eun-jo tried to pull their hands apart, but Tae-seok caught his fingers tighter and muttered,
“Don’t look. Three seconds is enough to see a face.”
“……”
“But you’re the type who won’t be satisfied until it’s so deep you’re seeing stars, and you stood there gawking like—”
“Hey!”
Eun-jo slapped a hand over Tae-seok’s mouth, panicked.
“Are you out of your damn mind?”
A few passersby glanced over at the outburst, then kept walking. Blushing furiously, Eun-jo hissed under his breath.
“Do you even know where we are right now?”
Tae-seok smirked, pleased that he’d derailed the moment. His grin was sharp, playful, and far too pretty.
He pressed a kiss to Eun-jo’s palm and answered smoothly,
“How many guys do you think are bigger than me?”
“…Jung Tae-seok!”
“So just give up. I’m not saying you can’t enjoy more than one, but don’t go adding anyone else to the list.”
Smack, smack. The kisses were gentle, but his eyes sparkled with intensity, daring him to answer.
Cornered, Eun-jo gave a reluctant nod. Whatever cloud had been hanging over his face was long gone by now.
Only then did Tae-seok stop. He took the hand that had been covering his mouth and pulled Eun-jo along, weaving briskly through the crowd.
Everyone recognized a gem when they saw one. That’s why all those bastards swarmed around him like flies. Just thinking about those clingy idiots in the team office made Tae-seok grit his teeth again.
Can’t I just wipe them all out?
Honestly, he wanted to blow up the whole damn office, kidnap Eun-jo, and lock him up for good. As he walked, he glanced down at Eun-jo struggling to keep up with his pace.
Tie him to the bed…
If he wanted Eun-jo waiting by the front door, he’d need a long leash.
Or maybe keep it short—so he couldn’t even make it to the bathroom…
He imagined Eun-jo with watery eyes, hands pressed between his thighs, waiting for permission—and just that image was almost enough to get him hard. Alarmed, Tae-seok quickened his pace to hide it.
They passed the clothing stores, and Eun-jo turned back with a puzzled frown.
“Weren’t we here to buy clothes?”
“Nope.”
Tae-seok stepped confidently onto the escalator and jerked his chin toward the next floor. As they ascended, a massive banner came into view overhead—plastered in colorful lettering.
[Newlywed Festival Discount!]
Fucking psycho… Eun-jo muttered under his breath.
