He wanted to make up for his mistake, but he couldn’t bring himself to bother Seo Suho, who had cut off contact with such cold finality. Yeo Wonjin focused on his duties as Vice Captain, his mouth turning bitter every time his blunder resurfaced in his thoughts.
And soon, an event occurred that left no room even for those wandering thoughts.
“Kuhk, cough cough!”
“Mother!”
“C-Captain!”
It happened in the briefing room where the officers always gathered. The Captain suddenly coughed up blood and collapsed, sending the entire room into panic. Sitting closest to her, Yeo Wonjin didn’t even have time to be shocked—he immediately rushed to administer emergency aid. His mother convulsed on the floor, vomiting blood over and over, reddening her lips and clothes.
The Captain was rushed to the hospital and, fortunately, regained consciousness. But she insisted on going home. The medical team didn’t object.
Yeo Wonjin’s eyes reddened as he realized what that meant.
“Wonjin. Could you bring me the thing inside that drawer?”
Having returned to the house they had shared, the Captain pointed to a drawer in her bedroom. Yeo Wonjin approached briskly and opened it, checking its contents. His complexion went pale as he turned to look back at the Captain, who gave him a small nod.
“Yes. That one.”
They were documents concerning the succession of the Captain’s post.
“Mother, I still…”
“Still?”
That stern gaze locked onto him. Yeo Wonjin, clutching the papers, lowered his eyes to the floor.
“I’m still not ready.”
Even knowing exactly how dire her condition was, those were the words that escaped his lips. It felt like he had regressed to childhood. Though long past the age of whining or throwing tantrums, all he wanted now was to cling to her desperately.
He lifted his head at the sound of a gentle pat on the blanket. The Captain gestured to the chair beside the bed.
“Come sit here.”
Without a word, Yeo Wonjin approached and sat. Her wrinkled hand reached out and firmly grasped the one not holding the documents.
“I had you very late in life, didn’t I?”
“…Yes.”
“So at first, I worried a lot. I was scared I might not live long enough to see you grow up.”
She covered her mouth with a handkerchief and coughed before continuing.
“But look at me. Even after falling ill, even at this age, I’m still alive.”
Yeo Wonjin looked at her, face slightly contorted. But she looked genuinely content.
“You’ve grown into a fine man. You’ve even met someone who brings joy to your life. What more could I possibly want?”
“I…”
“Don’t say you’re not ready, not when you’ve already taken over most of what I do. There are more people now who believe in you than in me.”
As she often did, the Captain gently patted the back of his hand.
“Wonjin, you’re doing well. You really are.”
“……”
“And you’ll do even better from here on.”
It was as if she wanted to say every kind word she hadn’t had the chance to say until now—her voice overflowed with affection.
Right up until the moment her eyes quietly closed.
Yeo Wonjin couldn’t believe that his mother, though already frail, had declined so rapidly and left his side.
A wave of mourning engulfed the ship. With every visitor who came to pay their respects, Yeo Wonjin was forced to confront reality—he would never again see his mother, who had been mentor, friend, and supporter.
“…You came.”
He had been standing there like a broken machine, frozen in place, when he turned to see Seo Suho quietly appear. Yeo Wonjin gave what was likely a feeble smile.
Seo Suho showed no overt sorrow, no look of pity. His tightly sealed lips and almost blank expression betrayed little. And yet, the subtle tremble in his dark eyes revealed just how deeply affected he was.
The gaze directed at him was so kind—recklessly kind—that it felt almost irresponsible, as if their painful parting meant nothing now. A loneliness he hadn’t even realized he’d been carrying slowly rose to the surface.
Just once.
“Can I… ask you to hold me? Just once?”
He spoke in a whisper, the kind of shameless request he wouldn’t have dared make when in his right mind, driven only by a desperate longing to lean on someone—just this once.
Head bowed, Yeo Wonjin waited for a response. Then he felt arms pull him into an embrace, and his eyes widened.
“……”
Seo Suho carefully wrapped his arms around his back and stood still. Pressed close to his chest, Yeo Wonjin thought he could feel the beat of Suho’s heart. Looking down at the soft black hair, his lips quivered faintly.
As he gently returned the embrace, he thought for a moment how easy it would be to collapse right here. That quiet warmth seeped through the cracks in his grief, and his eyelids slid shut.
“Captain… Captain?”
A pleasant voice called to him again and again.
Yeo Wonjin opened his eyes with difficulty, and Seo Suho came into view, standing by his bedside and watching him.
Ah—he must’ve dozed off while applying pressure after donating blood.
“Are you all right?”
“Ah, yes. I’m sorry. It looks like I nodded off for a moment.”
As Yeo Wonjin sat up and responded, Seo Suho glanced briefly toward the waiting room.
“If you’re tired, you can sleep a bit more. I’ll come back when it’s time.”
He was trying to give him space to rest in the still, quiet room. Yeo Wonjin offered a faint, bitter smile.
Falling for someone so kind was a painful thing. Even when their actions weren’t driven by the same feelings, they could still make his heart flutter.
From the beginning, Seo Suho hadn’t even realized that Yeo Wonjin was interested in him.
Yeo Wonjin swallowed a sigh. He’d held back from being too forward, thinking it was too soon to express his feelings openly. But the words he’d once blurted out, overflowing with sincerity, had been brushed off as a joke—that had stung.
Though, to be fair, it had been a lie.
It wasn’t that he might fall for him—he already had.
“No, I should get up. I’ve got somewhere else to be.”
Following his packed schedule, Yeo Wonjin stepped down from the blood draw bed. Seo Suho nodded and retrieved the jacket he had taken off earlier.
“Thank y—”
Yeo Wonjin froze mid-sentence as he reached for the jacket. When Seo Suho extended his arm to hand it over, his sleeve had ridden up slightly, revealing blotchy red skin underneath.
Those weren’t bruises from violence, but rather…
“Is something wrong?”
Seo Suho misunderstood, thinking Yeo Wonjin was staring at the jacket, and began inspecting it to see if something had gotten on it. His expression clearly showed he couldn’t find anything wrong.
“…No. It’s nothing.”
Yeo Wonjin took the jacket back with slightly trembling hands, his face pale with shock. He lowered his head to hide his shaken gaze.
His mind became a storm of ominous assumptions and anxious denials.
***
After parting ways with Yeo Wonjin, who seemed slightly subdued, I exited Building A. It felt too abrupt to chalk up to just a bad mood, leaving an uneasy feeling behind.
When I entered the lab, I saw Sun Woosung sitting upright, staring intently at the desk. Considering how casual and rough the team members used to be in the past, it was still surprising to see someone maintain such disciplined posture among them.
On the table sat one of the reports Sun Woosung occasionally wrote here. Judging by the lack of content, he must have been lost in thought. Still, perhaps sensing my presence, he spoke without turning to look at me, asking out of habit.
“Have you finished your business?”
“Yes. Thank you for waiting.”
I sat across from him, briefly to have a drink of water. Then, glancing at the report he had set out, I spoke.
“If you need any data attached or input from me, feel free to ask.”
“Yes.”
It did not seem like he was writing the report for that kind of reason anyway. He did not appear to be expecting anything from me. Just as I was about to ask if he was ready for us to leave—
“Are you perhaps in a relationship with the Captain?”
“…What?”
If I had been drinking water at that moment, I might have choked—it was that absurd. I stared at Sun Woosung in a daze.
Did he just ask if Yeo Wonjin and I were dating?
“What… do you mean by that?”
I shot him a look demanding an explanation for such a strange comment. After a pause, Sun Woosung lifted his gaze and looked at me.
“It just seems like the Captain treats you differently.”
“…!”
Based on what, exactly?
Yeo Wonjin was kind to everyone. Unless it was someone he particularly disliked, he was always courteous.
Whether it was because he believed that was a fundamental virtue expected of his position, or simply a reflection of his personality, the point was—he was not especially kind to me.
“I think you’re mistaken. I have never felt that way.”
I denied it firmly. Sun Woosung’s expression shifted strangely.
“Are you seeing someone else, then? Was my question inappropriate?”
“It’s not that, but…”
“…I see. My apologies.”
Perhaps thinking he had offended me with a personal question, he apologized immediately. I was not actually upset. I had just responded sharply out of concern that it might cause a misunderstanding.
I was about to say it was fine when I noticed that Sun Woosung’s jaw was tenser than usual.
It was a vague atmosphere—like he wanted to say something but was holding it in, or like he was… pleased.
