He had truly slept like the dead. At some point, Choi Sang-hyuk must have woken him up and fed him something, but he had been too deep in sleep to register it properly. Even chewing and swallowing had felt like too much effort. He had dozed off again in between, only to be woken up just enough to drink some water or take a bite of food, before sinking right back into unconsciousness. After what felt like an eternity of sleeping, he finally opened his eyes for real.
Kim Min-seok blinked, struggling to clear his vision. Every time he closed and reopened his eyes, his surroundings became a little sharper. The first thing he saw was Choi Sang-hyuk’s neck, shoulders, and chest. That was when he remembered—Sang-hyuk had promised he wouldn’t move, that he’d still be here when Min-seok woke up. It must have been uncomfortable keeping him on top for so long, but he had kept his word. That alone made Min-seok grateful.
He took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly. With it, the last remnants of drowsiness seemed to drain from his body. Sang-hyuk must have noticed he was awake because his hand moved, fingers threading gently through Min-seok’s hair. The way he stroked his scalp was so soothing that Min-seok let out a contented sigh.
“How long did I sleep?”
His voice was hoarse and thick with sleep.
“As long as you needed.”
Choi Sang-hyuk’s low voice was clear and steady, with no trace of drowsiness. He had probably stayed awake the entire time.
Min-seok glanced toward the curtains. Beyond them, it was pitch dark. Inside the room, only a single soft light was on. The last thing he remembered before sleeping, it had still been somewhere between late morning and early afternoon. If it was this dark now… he must have slept nearly half a day.
“Weren’t I heavy?”
Min-seok absentmindedly wiggled his fingers against the firm muscle of Sang-hyuk’s chest as he asked.
“You? This scrawny little body? You think you’re heavy? Don’t make me laugh.”
Choi Sang-hyuk scoffed, clearly unimpressed. Min-seok pursed his lips in protest.
“I am a man, you know.”
Sang-hyuk snorted. Min-seok, feeling slighted, smacked him lightly on the chest. Without missing a beat, Sang-hyuk retaliated by delivering a firm slap to Min-seok’s ass.
“What the—did you just hit me?”
“You like getting spanked. If one isn’t enough, I can give you more.”
“You—!”
Sang-hyuk said it so shamelessly that Min-seok couldn’t even argue. Because, well… it was true. He huffed in frustration instead, his breath coming out in short, flustered puffs. Sang-hyuk chuckled and teasingly pinched his cheek.
Min-seok had initially worried he might be too heavy to stay on top like this, but strangely enough, he didn’t feel like moving. Instead, he continued absentmindedly running his fingers over Sang-hyuk’s firm chest and broad shoulders, playing with the hard muscle beneath his touch. Neither of them spoke for a while, but the silence between them was peaceful. It was that very comfort that gave Min-seok the courage to bring up something that had been nagging at him.
“How did you find me? I didn’t have my phone, and I only used cash to get around.”
“You think you can outmaneuver me? Finding you was nothing.”
Choi Sang-hyuk smirked and tapped Min-seok’s forehead with his fingertip, dodging the question entirely.
“Seo Chang-seop… He’s not dead, is he? My memory’s a little hazy, but…”
“I just left a few scratches. If I wanted to kill him, I would’ve done it properly. You think swinging half-assedly like a kid playing with a toy is enough to kill someone?”
Choi Sang-hyuk spoke as if the idea of Min-seok worrying over Seo Chang-seop’s survival was laughable. Kim Min-seok pressed his cheek against Sang-hyuk’s chest, breathing heavily. Thoughts that had been pushed to the back of his mind until now slowly crawled forward, demanding attention.
“Then… Seo Chang-seop…”
“I’ve locked him away somewhere safe. Taped his mouth shut too, so he won’t be running his mouth.”
Sang-hyuk spoke like he already knew exactly what Min-seok was concerned about.
Kim Min-seok took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. There was so much he wanted to say, yet at the same time, it felt like there was nothing he could say.
“Seo Ha-yoon.”
“What?”
“Stop overthinking.”
“I’m not.”
“Don’t lie. I can hear you thinking from here.”
Min-seok shut his mouth. The way Sang-hyuk spoke made him feel like the man already knew everything. That realization sent a chilling sensation crawling down his spine.
“What do you even see me as?”
Sang-hyuk’s sudden question caught him off guard. Min-seok wasn’t sure if he was actually expecting an answer or if he was just speaking aloud. But when he lifted his head and met Sang-hyuk’s gaze, he saw that the man was waiting—expecting—a response.
“Sang-hyuk… You’re… handsome, tall, muscular, rich… a workaholic, a little cold… You let Seo Ha-yoon walk all over you…”
At the last part, one of Sang-hyuk’s eyebrows twitched upward.
“You’re impressive… capable… a man like that?”
Min-seok tried to end on a positive note, but Sang-hyuk simply flicked him lightly on the forehead, as if unimpressed with his attempt.
“You think I’ve never had to crawl through the dirt before?”
His voice was heavy, carrying an unfamiliar weight. The faint darkness lacing his words made Min-seok hesitate.
“You really see me as someone who’s never hit rock bottom? Someone who’s never been miserable, desperate, or humiliated to the point of not wanting to show his past to anyone?”
Min-seok chewed on Sang-hyuk’s words for a moment before nodding slightly.
“But… you’re Choi Sang-hyuk.”
“Yeah. I’m Choi Sang-hyuk. And even I have a shitty past I’d rather not talk about. Doesn’t everyone? At least one thing they’d rather keep buried?”
“Sang-hyuk…”
Min-seok looked into Sang-hyuk’s dark, glimmering eyes before resting a hand on his chest. Thump. Thump. Thump. His heartbeat was strong and unwavering—unyielding, like steel.
He was an unbelievably strong man. Yet, here he was, revealing traces of a past he had no desire to speak of. It had to be for Min-seok’s sake—to make his own shame feel just a little lighter.
“…You saw it, didn’t you?”
Kim Min-seok’s voice trembled as he asked. Choi Sang-hyuk didn’t ask what he had seen. He didn’t even answer. That silence was the answer.
Min-seok’s fingers shook. His whole body shivered faintly, but instead of offering comfort or empty words of reassurance, Sang-hyuk simply watched him in silence. That steady gaze, devoid of unnecessary sympathy, calmed the storm raging inside Min-seok. He took deep, slow breaths, forcing himself to settle.
Sang-hyuk knew. He had seen the photos, the videos. He probably knew about the years of sexual abuse Min-seok had endured under his adoptive father.
“How… When did you find out?”
“Does it matter?”
Sang-hyuk’s calm, unwavering gaze met his. Min-seok studied those dark eyes for a moment before nodding.
“Maybe not to you, but to Seo Ha-yoon, it does.”
“Not long ago.”
Sang-hyuk’s response was short.
“So… You didn’t know when you were with Ha-yoon?”
“Yeah… I was a fucking idiot.”
A flicker of guilt crossed Sang-hyuk’s black eyes.
For two whole years, Seo Ha-yoon had desperately hidden his painful past. It must have been agonizing for him. But knowing that Sang-hyuk, who had been by his side all that time, had never even noticed—perhaps that left its own kind of wound.
“This isn’t your fault,” Min-seok said, placing his hand over Sang-hyuk’s. “Ha-yoon did everything he could to hide it. There was no way you could’ve known.”
Sang-hyuk didn’t respond right away. His fingers curled slightly under Min-seok’s touch.
“He told me not to tie him down,” Sang-hyuk murmured. “So I didn’t. He was still too young to be shackled to someone like me. I always knew that one day, he’d leave. When that time came, I wanted to let him go without regrets. That’s why I never interfered, never tried to control him… But that ended up being the worst thing I could’ve done.”
There was regret in his voice. He wasn’t just upset that Ha-yoon had suffered. He was blaming himself for not realizing what was happening—for not noticing that Seo Chang-seop had been blackmailing Ha-yoon, for not stepping in sooner. Even if it was what Ha-yoon had wanted.
Min-seok thought back to the dream he had before waking up.
In the dream, Choi Sang-hyuk and Seo Ha-yoon had been like any ordinary couple—effortlessly close, affectionate. Sang-hyuk indulged Ha-yoon’s whims without irritation, and Ha-yoon acted as if he knew Sang-hyuk would always indulge him. It wasn’t a relationship that could exist without deep affection.
Until now, Min-seok hadn’t been sure what Sang-hyuk had meant to Ha-yoon.
After all, Seo Ha-yoon had spent Sang-hyuk’s money like water, funneled cash to Seo Chang-seop, and even cheated on him.
But in the dream… Ha-yoon looked like someone who truly loved Sang-hyuk.
And that was why.
That was why he could never tell Sang-hyuk the truth about Seo Chang-seop.
Because he didn’t want him to know.
Because he had wanted—desperately—to keep him from seeing the filth and horror of his past.
“Seo Ha-yoon would rather die than let you find out about what happened with Seo Chang-seop.”
“I guess I wasn’t trustworthy enough for him.”
There was a faint trace of self-reproach in Choi Sang-hyuk’s voice, and Kim Min-seok couldn’t stand it.
This man had done nothing wrong.
