Fortunately, they were able to look around the temple without scaring the children or being criticized for getting in their way. The serene landscape and the boisterous chatter of the kids seemed like they wouldn’t go together, and yet, somehow, they blended surprisingly well. Both Seung-hyeon and Seon-woo walked at a relaxed pace, as if they were just out for a stroll, showing no signs of being bothered.
Watching the chaperone repeatedly gather the kids to take photos, it seemed likely that in a few of those shots, the backs of Seung-hyeon and Seon-woo’s heads had ended up in the frame. That thought amused Seon-woo somehow, and so instead of frowning or flinching away whenever a camera appeared, he simply enjoyed the situation as it was.
“Director, what kind of wish are you going to make?”
When a famous stone pagoda came into view, Seung-hyeon turned to him with a question. He, too, seemed to be enjoying the moment, his eyes sparkling brightly. For a brief moment, Seon-woo thought Seung-hyeon looked adorably no different from the excited elementary school kids running around, and he let out a small chuckle.
The confusion he’d felt from the unexpected trip had long since melted away. Although a bit of guilt lingered over not taking Seung-hyeon to the place he’d originally wanted to go, even that began to lift when he saw the younger man smiling like this. Seon-woo wasn’t the type to make wishes in front of pagodas, but if Seung-hyeon wanted him to, he was more than willing to press his hands together and play along. He let out a short laugh and replied.
“You’re not supposed to say that kind of thing out loud.”
After all, they say wishes only come true if you keep them to yourself. Seung-hyeon nodded, a little disappointed, but didn’t press further. Soon, he stood with his hands together, praying for something, a carefree smile playing on his lips. Despite the playful, laid-back look, there was a certain sincerity to him—as if he really was wishing for something.
What could his wish have been? It was Seon-woo who said not to ask, yet now he found himself curious. That alone would be enough to make Seung-hyeon burst into a dry laugh. Following his lead, Seon-woo pressed his hands together and made a simple, unoriginal wish.
Let this man and I stay healthy this year too…
And yet, why did that make him so flustered that he had to awkwardly clear his throat?
After touring Bulguksa and Seokguram and fully embracing the mood of a diligent sixth grader on a school trip, Seung-hyeon took Seon-woo to a nearby Korean restaurant for lunch. It operated strictly on a reservation system, serving well-composed full-course meals in a traditional hanok with a refined, old-fashioned ambiance.
Seon-woo had vaguely assumed they’d end up in the popular street lined with restaurants that had become tourist spots in their own right. But apparently, Seung-hyeon didn’t want to make him endure the wait. Every place on that street was famous, and they’d likely have to wait at least an hour or two to get in.
Thanks to Seung-hyeon’s reservation, they were taken straight to a private room without delay. Considering the trip had only been planned that morning, it was a mystery when exactly he’d found the time to book the place. It seemed that while Seon-woo had been asleep, Seung-hyeon had quietly and efficiently mapped out their entire date course.
He really was. A boyfriend who remained unfailingly consistent over time—no, if anything, growing even more diligent.
Once the table was filled with an array of traditional dishes, Seung-hyeon deftly removed the bones from the grilled fish with impressive skill and said,
“I was thinking we could go to the botanical garden after this. Would that be okay with you?”
Just as Seon-woo had expected. It occurred to him now that when he’d woken up earlier and seen Seung-hyeon so focused on his phone, it probably wasn’t just idle scrolling—he’d likely been mapping out this whole date course. Seon-woo tapped the tips of his chopsticks against the napkin to align their length and replied casually.
“The botanical garden sounds nice.”
Then he quietly watched Seung-hyeon’s hands.
It wasn’t that Seon-woo didn’t know how to debone fish. He could, just not as well as Seung-hyeon. So he didn’t bother saying something like, “I’ll do it.”
With time, he found himself compromising like this more and more. In the beginning, he probably would’ve said, “I can do it too,” and politely turned down Seung-hyeon’s help. But now, thoughts like “If he wants to, let him,” or “Even if I do it, it won’t be that neat anyway,” rose to the surface first.
At first, he used to worry that he might be making Seung-hyeon do too much. But by now, even that thought had faded. In fact, the more Seon-woo relied on him, the more delighted Seung-hyeon seemed. These days, what Seon-woo should be worrying about wasn’t whether Seung-hyeon was being overworked, but whether he had gotten too used to being taken care of by Seung-hyeon.
Thinking that, a sudden question popped into his mind—something he wanted to ask.
“So, um…”
But just then, Seung-hyeon completed his impressively meticulous deboning job. He placed the perfectly cleaned fish onto Seon-woo’s rice bowl with a proud little flourish. There was no way to refuse it, and no way to talk with his mouth full either, so Seon-woo ended up swallowing the question before it could take shape. It wasn’t an important question anyway, and by the time they finished eating, it had already vanished without a trace.
The well-maintained botanical garden, like Bulguksa, was fairly crowded with tourists. Most of them seemed to be families visiting Gyeongju, though there were a few couples on dates as well. And of course, there were the ever-present groups of schoolchildren on field trips. It made Seon-woo laugh to himself. The way Seung-hyeon had so diligently mapped out the date course was endearing—and the fact that the whole course felt like a school field trip only added to the amusement.
A child ran past them, laughing brightly as they dashed by Seung-hyeon’s side. Watching with a fond smile, Seung-hyeon turned to Seon-woo and asked,
“Shall we go, too?”
It wasn’t really a question that needed an answer—no matter what he had said, Seon-woo would’ve nodded anyway. As they stepped into the botanical garden, the same child who had been darting around like they had motors in their legs was now quietly walking past a sign that read Please Do Not Run. Watching the child’s back with clear delight, Seung-hyeon beamed again, and Seon-woo nudged him gently with a comment.
“What? You really like kids that much? Your eyes are practically screaming ‘dad’ right now.”
It almost sounded like there was a hint of jealousy in his voice. That subtle edge came from the fact that the two of them could never have children together. Not that Seon-woo ever thought Seung-hyeon might want to marry someone else just because he liked kids, or that he regretted being with Seon-woo—not even a little. This level of teasing could easily be chalked up as a mischievous form of affection.
“If the kid looked like you, I bet they’d be cute.”
Seung-hyeon replied with his usual easygoing charm. His gaze, which had been lingering on the child, shifted naturally back to Seon-woo. After studying him with an unreadable expression for a moment, he lowered his voice slightly and asked,
“Whether it’s a son or a daughter, if we had one… do you think you’d be a good dad?”
His eyes sparkled with warmth, but there was something strangely delicate in them too. It was hard to put into words exactly what he was thinking. Still, Seon-woo could sense the shape of that unspoken feeling. And in truth, it felt like it mirrored his own.
So Seon-woo reached out and wrapped his hand around Seung-hyeon’s. Then, slipping their joined hands into the pocket of his coat, he gave the answer he thought came closest to the truth.
“If the kid looked like you, yeah… they’d be cute.”
With that light but honest reply, he turned away and began walking ahead. Since their hands were locked together, Seung-hyeon had no choice but to be pulled along with him. For a brief second, Seung-hyeon seemed to falter, taking a slightly uneven step—like the words had caught him off guard. But he quickly fell back into stride. His voice, when it came, was calm and composed again.
“Hmm… So I want a kid that looks like you, and you want a kid that looks like me… We’re never gonna reach a compromise, huh?”
“You’re still a kid yourself. What do you mean raising a kid?”
Seon-woo replied with what sounded like a dry retort, but there was a thread of sincerity woven into it. Half-joking, half-serious. That’s how it was in his heart too. If Seung-hyeon truly wanted it, Seon-woo was willing to adopt and raise a child with him. He didn’t dislike children—in fact, he quite liked them. And he understood the weight of what it meant to be responsible for another life. If they did have a child, he would give it his all.
That was probably why Seung-hyeon had asked if he’d make a good father in the first place.
But if it wasn’t something he wanted, Seon-woo had no desire to force the idea. Seung-hyeon would undoubtedly care for the child—but even as he did, he would still crave Seon-woo’s attention, his care, his affection, and his time.
…Am I treating him too much like a kid? He’s my boyfriend, not my child…
That self-aware thought flickered across his mind—but just as quickly, it faded. Because right then, Seung-hyeon leaned in beside him with a quiet laugh in his throat, snuggling a little closer. Clearly, he was pleased with the answer he’d gotten.
“Right? Before that, you should focus on raising me properly.”
Seon-woo chuckled at the playful tone in his voice and shot back with a grin of his own.
“At this rate, I don’t know how much longer it’s gonna take for you to be ‘fully grown.’”
