***
“Choi Tae-hoon.”
“……”
“Choi Tae-hoon.”
“……”
“Tae-hoon-ah.”
Even when Ji Gwan-young called him in a voice that could captivate anyone instantly, the Guide—who had pulled the blanket over himself and turned his back—gave no response. Choi Tae-hoon had been like this for two hours straight, skipping even his meal after returning from training.
Honestly, considering this was Tae-hoon, who always acted so mature, the reaction was so childishly sulky that at first the Esper had thought he could just laugh a little and coax him out. Ji Gwan-young let out a small sigh.
Even when he gently stroked the rounded shape beneath the blanket, Tae-hoon didn’t budge, as if asleep. But Ji Gwan-young knew better than anyone that his lover wasn’t sleeping. It was obvious just from the way his breathing changed every time he spoke.
“What did that instructor say afterward?”
“……”
“You didn’t even eat lunch. At least dinner—”
“……”
Ji Gwan-young almost found himself ridiculous for speaking in such absurdly affectionate tones. But unlike those twisted thoughts in his head, not a single word that came out was anything but gentle. Every low-spoken sentence overflowed with affection, soothing the frozen heart of his lover, who was six years younger than him.
In the end, Ji Gwan-young decided to change tactics. It really did feel like he was trying every trick imaginable, but there wasn’t any better option.
“Tae-hoon-ah, I only slept two hours.”
Just as expected, the rounded lump under the blanket twitched for the first time.
The Guide curled beneath the covers was the only person in the world this fearless man’s act of “pretending to be weak” worked on—and the absolute deity before whom Ji Gwan-young revealed his vulnerable inner thoughts.
And right now, the cunning Esper was making use of that.
“One old bastard I’m filming with caused a scene today, and I spent the whole day holding myself back from wanting to twist his neck.”
“……”
“And the Director of The Center sat me down and started spouting nonsense like, ‘A man who looks like he only cares about himself having a loud lovers’ quarrel in a place with so many ears around is actually really cute,’ and I still walked out without saying a word.”
“……ugh.”
A sigh came from inside the blanket as Tae-hoon shrank in on himself. Ji Gwan-young drove in the final wedge toward the lover already crumbling into his arms.
“There are only four hours left now. When are you planning to get up?”
Even the way Tae-hoon jerked upright roughly, clearly trying to show just how angry he was, felt welcome. Ji Gwan-young finally looked at the lover fully in his sight and narrowed his eyes faintly. Standing there with his arms crossed and his head tilted slightly, he even looked leisurely about it, making Tae-hoon burst out in a choked voice.
“That’s exactly what I said, wasn’t it?!”
“You told me to go back to the official residence.”
“Then why didn’t you go?!”
“Because I wanted to see you a little longer.”
The answer came immediately, endlessly sweet.
In the end, Choi Tae-hoon could only open and close his mouth before letting out an utterly uncharacteristic, “Ah, seriously……” and dropping his head heavily.
Honestly, Tae-hoon had been pretty angry with his Esper.
He didn’t even want to think again about how it had felt when he awkwardly climbed down from the stage and returned to his seat. After the Esper left with that calm smile still on his face until the very end, just remembering the roughly five seconds of silence that had fallen over the massive auditorium afterward was enough to make him feel suffocated.
The instructor had tried desperately to regain control of the atmosphere, but she herself seemed half-stunned too. For nearly an hour, both the speaker and the audience remained dazed before things finally settled down.
“Seriously…… I was so embarrassed today that I kept my head down the entire time!”
“Your neck must hurt then. Want me to massage it?”
It had taken the form of a question, but before even hearing an answer, Ji Gwan-young moved beside Tae-hoon, wrapped his arms around him blanket and all, and began kneading the stiff back of his neck with just the right amount of pressure.
Choi Tae-hoon made a firm decision inside his head.
I absolutely can’t let this go so easily. If I immediately forgive him over something like this, he’ll just do it again!
But honestly, the hands massaging his stiff neck and shoulders while holding him from behind and occasionally kissing near his ear felt really good. There was something dangerously addictive about a man who bowed to no one treating only him with such devotion.
“……I even got a weird nickname because of you, Gwan-young-ssi.”
“A nickname? Relax your shoulders and lean back.”
They should’ve stayed like this from the beginning.
Tracing over the Guide’s lean muscles with his hands—the same Guide who had left him at a loss for quite a while—Ji Gwan-young asked softly. Every time he saw those long arms and legs peeking out from between the blankets, he found himself wondering what Choi Tae-hoon looked like handling a basketball.
“Why? Is it a weird one?”
“Yes.”
“They just let Guides go around giving each other nicknames like that at The Center?”
“It’s strange, but…… it’s not wrong.”
The conversation somehow sounded even more like a Zen riddle now, making Gwan-young’s brows curve upward. Tae-hoon stared at him for a moment before suddenly reaching out and pulling the Esper’s head closer.
Thunk.
Their foreheads bumped lightly together.
“……Choi Tae-hoon?”
“Ji Gwan-young’s boyfriend.”
“What?”
“My nickname is ‘Ji Gwan-young’s boyfriend.’ How am I supposed to live this down without dying of embarrassment?”
Like a robot hearing words it couldn’t process, Gwan-young slowly repeated the five syllables in his mind.
Ji Gwan-young’s…… boyfriend?
Watching his Esper, Tae-hoon grew a little awkward himself. Somehow, the word “boyfriend” felt far too light to follow behind the name of a man as extraordinary and uncommon as Ji Gwan-young.
But this time, it was Tae-hoon’s turn to be surprised.
His eyes widened as he looked at the man suddenly hugging him tightly, shoulders shaking strangely.
“Gwan-young-ssi?”
“Kuh—hahaha, ah, what did you say? ‘Ji Gwan-young’s boyfriend’? That’s your nickname?”
Instead of answering, Tae-hoon nodded blankly. For a moment, every thought and word vanished completely from his head.
It couldn’t be helped.
Ji Gwan-young was laughing.
Not his usual faint smile or low chuckle—but genuinely, completely laughing.
Seeing the perfect man hugging him tightly, eyes curved shut as he burst into laughter like he was truly delighted, Tae-hoon suddenly felt his mouth go dry and his head buzz.
Good god. Looking like that while smiling with his eyes like that was honestly beyond unfair. None of the bright expressions Tae-hoon had ever seen in dramas or movies could even compare. Not actor Ji Gwan-young, not Esper Ji Gwan-young, but simply Ji Gwan-young smiled like this.
For some reason, Tae-hoon’s fists tightened and his heart pounded hard.
“Ah, right. You’re right. ‘Boyfriend.’ You’re my ‘boyfriend.’ This is insane, seriously.”
“Isn’t it weird? I thought you’d hate it.”
“Why would I hate this? It’s nothing compared to the idiotic crap I’ve been hearing lately.”
“…….Ji Gwan-young’s boyfriend?”
Gwan-young burst into soft laughter again.
The smile folding his eyes so completely they almost disappeared was unbelievably handsome, and at the same time, strangely beautiful. Tae-hoon found himself thinking of that lovely word—a word he’d never thought suited Ji Gwan-young before—and his lips parted slightly. It was like staring blankly at his lover was the only thing he could do; his thoughts kept snapping apart.
Gwan-young lightly brushed Tae-hoon’s hair back.
The round forehead hidden beneath his slightly overgrown bangs finally appeared. Ji Gwan-young liked Tae-hoon with his bangs down too, but since his features were so sharp and defined, he preferred seeing his entire face exposed like this.
“Come to think of it, Choi Tae-hoon, you curse too.”
“When have I ever?”
“Seriously, I’m screwed. Ah, fuck……”
The rough words flowed out in such a pleasant voice that someone might not even realize they were curses at first glance.
Tae-hoon scratched his chin.
“I remember thinking, ‘So the model citizen Guide curses too.’”
“That was the first time I’ve ever heard you curse too, Gwan-young-ssi.”
As though they’d both been waiting for it, their lips met lightly.
It was a sweet kiss.
Because of that, Tae-hoon let out a slightly languid sigh before suddenly making an “Ah!” sound as if he’d just remembered something.
“Gwan-young-ssi, you said you only slept two hours!”
It was true he’d only slept two hours, but Ji Gwan-young never needed much sleep to begin with. It wasn’t like he’d used his “power”; filming was practically no different from ordinary daily life to him, so that amount of rest was enough.
At the sudden return of the excuse he’d made up just to coax his Guide, Gwan-young tried to avoid the topic by pressing their lips together again.
But Choi Tae-hoon looked extremely serious now.
“I’m fine.”
“You are not fine!”
“And you need to eat.”
“I’m the one who’s fine.”
“You’re not.”
The lovers, both stubborn and unwavering in their own convictions, confronted each other without yielding an inch. After about a minute of stalemate, Ji Gwan-young and Choi Tae-hoon finally came to an agreement: they would wash up together, eat, and then get some sleep.
Watching his utterly unromantic “boyfriend” drag him off insistently while saying they needed to wash up quickly, Ji Gwan-young briefly considered sex before eventually letting out another small laugh instead.
***
Choi Tae-hoon had finally made a “Guide friend.”
It was Kim Kwonseok, whom he’d met during training. He was thirty-one years old, three years older than Tae-hoon. Mischievous by nature, he’d immediately burst into snickering laughter and started teasing Tae-hoon the moment they met again at The Center—but for Tae-hoon, who had always only been around researchers, someone like Kim Kwonseok was exactly what he needed.
“So hyung works at The Center?”
“Yup. Maintenance for the Esper training grounds.”
“Wow. That sounds incredibly complicated. That’s amazing. I’ve been training in Guide education stuff lately, but honestly, I still have no idea what’s what……”
“You must be pretty smart? Close with The Center too. Ugh, I could never handle that—I’d get way too restless.”
Kim Kwonseok really ate like he enjoyed food. Even though they were eating the exact same thing, watching Kwonseok eat as if nothing in the world could possibly taste better somehow made Tae-hoon feel satisfied too.
The two Guides sat side by side in The Center cafeteria, quietly focusing on their meals for a while.
Then, as if suddenly remembering something, Kwonseok spoke up.
“Hey. Just so you know, I’m in charge of Section A.”
“Huh?”
Not fully understanding the hidden meaning behind the sentence, Tae-hoon simply tilted his head in confusion. A sly grin spread across Kwonseok’s lips.
“So when your Esper turned the A-1 zone into a complete wreck, I was the one crying while pulling overtime, yeah?”
“……I’m sorry. Seriously, I’m really sorry.”
“You damn well should be. Seriously, I thought Ji Gwan-young was a completely insane psycho, but seeing him then? He was surprisingly polite. And his face was this tiny~ too.”
The story of that incident—something Tae-hoon never wanted to remember again—surfaced as naturally as flowing water. Tae-hoon stared hard at the spicy pork rice bowl he’d ordered, pretending not to hear Kim Kwonseok at all.
“No, seriously. To do this and that with your Guide in a dark, secluded, pri~vate place with only a thin sheet separating you from hundreds of people sitting nearby…… that’s not exactly normal—”
“Hyung!”
“Hahahaha!”
As if he’d discovered a new hobby in teasing his stiff little dongsaeng, Kwonseok kept going without even giving him a second to breathe. In the end, Tae-hoon could only complain in a sulky voice, his face burning bright red.
