Just meeting his gaze felt like the feelings he harbored for Seok-ho would spill out completely. It felt as though the affection he held for the other person would leak out uncontrollably, and Seok-ho would notice everything.
But that didn’t mean he wanted to avoid him entirely. His desire was stronger.
He wanted to look at his face. He wanted to meet Seok-ho’s eyes and talk with him—even if the conversation was about something trivial.
He glanced sideways again.
Contrary to his worries, Seok-ho simply brushed past Kang-woo’s side. Taking out a rice bowl, he scooped himself a serving of rice.
Kang-woo portioned the properly simmered stew into a bowl and set it among the various vegetable side dishes and stir-fried side dishes.
As Seok-ho sat down across from him, Kang-woo quickly took his seat as well.
“Please enjoy the meal.”
At Kang-woo’s soft whisper, Seok-ho replied in a low voice.
“Thanks.”
Kang-woo felt a little dazed. It was the first time he had ever received that kind of response.
Seok-ho picked up his utensils and began eating. Watching him, Kang-woo let a faint smile settle on his lips. No matter what dish he made, Seok-ho ate it without complaints. Because of that, Kang-woo felt small but steady satisfaction every day.
He stayed at the table so Seok-ho wouldn’t feel lonely. But he had realized that staring too directly might be burdensome, so he occasionally glanced down at his phone instead.
On the screen, a woman was kindly and thoroughly explaining how to make soy-marinated salmon.
“Hyung.”
Keeping his eyes on the screen, Kang-woo cautiously spoke.
“What?”
Seok-ho lifted his eyes slightly while picking up some sweet black beans with his chopsticks. Kang-woo hesitated for a moment before giving a deflating answer.
“Nothing.”
Seok-ho’s thick eyebrows twitched. But that was all.
Without pressing further, he quietly returned his attention to eating. Not long after, Kang-woo called him again.
“Hyung.”
This time Seok-ho only raised his gaze without responding. Just like before, Kang-woo seemed hesitant, then shook his head.
“Nothing.”
And a few minutes later—
“Hyung.”
Seok-ho faintly frowned.
This was already the third time he had been called like this only for nothing to follow. His thin thread of patience was starting to reach its limit, but he decided to endure it.
In truth, Seok-ho was rather weak when it came to Kim Kang-woo.
Though he was often blunt and harsh with others, somehow it didn’t work the same with this kid. It was something he himself found strange. At some point—he wasn’t sure when—Kim Kang-woo had stepped deep into his personal space.
No… perhaps it had been his own will that had allowed him in.
He had tried not to pay attention to it, but honestly, he couldn’t help it. Kim Kang-woo had something about him that naturally drew people’s attention. And strangely enough, it wasn’t unpleasant.
Having someone he occasionally needed to look back at wasn’t so bad, so for now he was simply letting things be. It felt like he had suddenly gained a younger brother overnight.
Not long ago, he had thought all kids were nothing but annoying. But oddly enough, what applied to everyone else didn’t apply to Kim Kang-woo. If anything, it worked in the opposite way.
The way that small head was obviously lost in thought was clear as day. If it had been anyone else, he would have found it bothersome and ignored it. But seeing Kang-woo like that only made him more curious about what he was trying so hard to say.
“You look like you’ve had something to say for a while.”
As Seok-ho opened the conversation to make it easier, Kim Kang-woo immediately took the bait.
“…Well.”
“What is it?”
Seok-ho pressed gently.
Kang-woo set his phone down completely and fidgeted with his fingers before carefully speaking.
“Hyung… what’s your age?”
Even though he knew asking someone’s age could be rude, he couldn’t hold back his curiosity any longer.
He had deliberately chosen the respectful word yeonse (age) in case asking casually might seem impolite to an adult.
From Seok-ho’s perspective, Kang-woo’s effort was both amusing and a little absurd.
A short laugh escaped him.
Just how old did this kid think he was to use such extremely respectful language?
Coincidentally, he had finished eating as well, so he set his chopsticks down. Raising an eyebrow, he crossed his arms.
“How old do you think I look?”
His tone was rather teasing. But Kang-woo, distracted by his own thoughts, didn’t notice. After thinking carefully, Kang-woo offered a cautious guess.
“…Around your mid-twenties?”
Seok-ho hummed softly.
Mid-twenties, huh.
Considering how overly respectful Kang-woo had been, it was actually quite generous. He had never particularly taken pride in looking younger than his age, but people were all the same in that regard—it didn’t feel bad to hear.
“Mid-twenties?”
Even though he was supposed to be a composed adult, for some reason he felt like teasing the naive teenager.
When he repeated the phrase, Kang-woo tilted his head.
“…Early twenties?”
Reading his reaction, Kang-woo quickly corrected himself. Seok-ho’s lips curled openly.
“At this rate you’ll start calling me ‘hey’ soon.”
“That won’t happen. No matter what, you’re still older than me, hyung.”
Kang-woo replied firmly.
Even if the age difference wasn’t that large, he clearly intended to maintain proper respect between younger and older. Unlike certain people who would jump at any chance to subtly challenge authority, Kim Kang-woo was rather old-fashioned. In other words, he had a bit of an “old man in a young body” quality.
Seok-ho stood up and began clearing the empty dishes.
“You’re not going to tell me your age?”
Kang-woo asked blankly, surprised by Seok-ho’s sudden movement.
“Twenty-nine.”
Seok-ho tossed the answer out casually while glancing at him. Kang-woo immediately calculated the number in his head.
Twenty-nine? Then that meant they were exactly ten years apart. He didn’t look that old. That’s quite a big age difference.
Suddenly he became aware of the distance between them. And his heart sank. He didn’t even have to wonder how Seok-ho saw him. There was no way Seok-ho would ever see him as a romantic partner.
The chances of his newly sprouted first love ever coming true had just dropped even further. Of course, he already knew that wishing Seok-ho might feel the same way was greedy. Still… there’s nothing wrong with quietly holding those feelings alone.
Steeling his sinking heart, Kang-woo sprang up energetically. As Seok-ho carried plates to the sink, Kang-woo approached and tried to take them.
“I’ll do it.”
“It’s fine. I’ll do it today. Just close the lids on the side dishes and put them away.”
But the attempt quickly failed. Seok-ho avoided his hands and continued tidying the remaining dishes.
Left with no choice, Kang-woo did as he was told. He closed the lids of the containers on the island table and stacked them neatly in the refrigerator.
After finishing everything, he stood beside Seok-ho. Standing next to him, his eye level barely reached about the back of Seok-ho’s neck.
“Is there anything I can help with?”
“No.”
Seok-ho organized the drying rack and then put on rubber gloves to start washing the dishes properly. They were a large size that had seemed roomy when Kang-woo wore them. But on Seok-ho’s bigger hands, they looked more like tight latex gloves.
Staring at the sight, Kang-woo pointed it out.
“…They’re too small for you, hyung.”
Trying to hold back laughter only made his voice crack slightly.
Seok-ho immediately frowned. The tight gloves clearly felt uncomfortable, and he kept clenching and opening his hands.
Ah—I can’t hold it in.
Kang-woo bit his teeth together trying to suppress it, but finally burst out laughing.
“Haha!”
His bright laughter echoed through the house.
Only after laughing for quite a while did Kang-woo finally calm down. It had been a long time since he had laughed out loud like that. He had laughed so hard his stomach actually hurt. While wiping the tears from the corners of his eyes, he lifted his head—and met Seok-ho’s gaze.
With his sharp features, the expression could have looked intimidating. But strangely, Kang-woo wasn’t afraid of him.
“What’s so funny?”
“No—it’s just clinging so tightly to your hands. It doesn’t look like rubber gloves, it looks like you’re wearing latex gloves.”
Seok-ho looked down at his hands with an awkward expression and began trying to remove the gloves.
“Oh—no, you can’t. Dish soap is harsh. If you wash dishes with bare hands your skin will get damaged.”
The housekeeper often washed dishes without wearing rubber gloves because she was busy. Because of that, eczema was always present on her hands.
He suddenly remembered applying ointment to her red, irritated hands and feeling upset about it. Even though he had told her again and again to always wear gloves no matter how busy she was, long habits were hard to change.
“I used to do it like this just fine before you came.”
“Still, you shouldn’t. Your hands are part of your job—you can’t let them get damaged.”
Kang-woo firmly protested and personally pulled the half-removed gloves back onto Seok-ho’s hands.
The size was tight, so it took some effort, but he stubbornly pulled them all the way up. During all this, Seok-ho simply stood there quietly, half-resigned, letting Kang-woo handle his hands.
Kang-woo looked at him with a determined expression that clearly implied he intended to stand there and supervise.
In the end, Seok-ho completely gave up on removing the gloves and picked up the sponge. Soon he squeezed dish soap onto the soft sponge and began washing the dishes. The sink was low, so Seok-ho had to lean forward awkwardly as he washed. The sight looked strangely captivating.
Kang-woo’s eyes met the dragon tattoo on Seok-ho’s right forearm before drifting to the soft white bubbles forming on the sponge. Then, unconsciously, he called him again.
“Hyung.”
“What?”
Hearing the call, Seok-ho turned his head and looked down at Kang-woo. Their eyes collided directly. Kang-woo flinched for a moment but didn’t look away.
The memory replayed automatically in his mind—when he had woken up in the quiet car and they had silently looked at each other. And then the moment they had stood together in the cold sea wind.
Thump. Thump. His heart pounded loudly.
Looking into his eyes might be manageable if he pretended to be calm. But this was the problem.
Afraid Seok-ho might hear the violent pounding of his heart, Kang-woo subtly stepped back. Seok-ho raised an eyebrow at the strange movement.
If hyung found out that I like him… what kind of eyes would he look at me with? And if he somehow found out that I’m an Omega…
But that was a question he could never ask the person himself.
“How old do you think I am?”
Instead, Kang-woo asked something else. Even if Seok-ho knew he was a minor, he probably didn’t know his exact age. Kang-woo intended to make him guess.
“Nineteen.”
But Seok-ho answered immediately.
“Huh? How did you know?”
Kang-woo’s eyes widened.
Of course, judging by his appearance, it was obvious he wasn’t a middle schooler, so the odds of guessing correctly were fairly high. But Seok-ho had answered as if he already knew the exact number.
Had Kang-woo ever told him?
Now that he thought about it, he had planned to introduce himself properly but missed the timing. He didn’t think he had ever even told Seok-ho his name. Yet at some point, Seok-ho had naturally begun calling him by name.
What? Did I tell him and just forget?
Otherwise there was no way he could know both his name and age.
Kang-woo had always been confident in his memory, but perhaps now that he wasn’t studying anymore, his memory had started deteriorating too.
When did I tell him?
Maybe when he had fainted, his survival instinct had kicked in and he had blurted out all his personal information. If that were true… that would be dangerous in its own way.
His thoughts were becoming more and more tangled when Seok-ho answered indifferently.
“It’s written on your face.”
On my face?
Reflexively, Kang-woo raised a hand and scratched his cheek.
Watching him, Seok-ho smiled quietly to himself.
Though the smile only lasted a brief moment. The hands that had paused began moving again.
The clatter of dishes filled the kitchen.
“Hyung, should I make soy-marinated salmon for you? I saw a video earlier that showed a method where you don’t even have to boil the soy sauce.”
Kim Kang-woo, who had looked embarrassed a moment ago, soon started chatting again.
So that’s what he had been watching so intently earlier—a salmon marinade recipe video.
Seok-ho thought to himself.
It seemed Kang-woo had completely fallen in love with cooking. Recently he had been constantly trying new dishes.
The way he kept making things to feed him looked almost like a parent who wanted to give their child delicious food. Even though he himself barely ate more than a few bites.
Truthfully, Seok-ho had never had much resistance to ordering food or eating out. There were times he had thought about telling Kang-woo not to bother cooking so much. But he had kept quiet because he knew that Kang-woo secretly felt happy watching him eat.
“Are you confident you can make it taste good?”
“I think it’ll be easy enough. These days all the recipes are online—you can find everything with just a little searching.”
Kang-woo spoke brightly, then suddenly stopped.
Seok-ho found the sudden silence beside him strange and glanced over.
The moment their eyes met, the corners of Kang-woo’s lips lifted slightly.
“So hyung… if there’s anything you ever feel like eating, please tell me. I’ll make it all for you.”
It might have been nothing more than a polite remark. But for some reason, Seok-ho felt warmth slowly filling his chest. A sense of fullness began spreading through him. And it wasn’t simply because he had eaten a satisfying dinner.
“Okay.”
Rinsing the soap bubbles off a dish, Seok-ho readily agreed. Only then did Kang-woo smile with satisfaction.
“Then what should I make tomorrow? Budae-jjigae? Mapo tofu? Curry? Or maybe… hmm… tteokbokki? How about tteokbokki?”
Even after that, Kang-woo’s cheerful chatter didn’t stop until Seok-ho had finished washing all the dishes.
