“I haven’t. Not even once.”
Haon repeated himself, but Inho’s hardened expression didn’t budge. He clearly didn’t believe a word Haon was saying.
“I’m serious… I really haven’t.”
Terrible at lying, Haon kept repeating the same thing, avoiding Inho’s gaze. Afraid Inho might read his thoughts again, he even shook his head slightly, trying to clear his mind.
“This is the first time I’ve been hit. I don’t usually get into fights.”
He forced out a confident voice and clenched both his fists. It was his attempt to look strong, but his small, round fists only made him seem even more fragile.
Inho cupped Haon’s face, steadying it so he couldn’t look away. Perhaps realizing how stiff his expression had become, Inho’s lips curved into the soft smile he usually wore.
“If you tell me the truth, I’ll deal with them.”
But his cold eyes betrayed any hint of kindness.
“I can take care of whoever it is.”
“If you want, Haon, I’ll even make them apologize.”
If someone hurt another person, they deserved to be punished.
Inho gently caressed the red, burst blood vessel in Haon’s left eye, waiting for a nod, for some kind of agreement.
“I’m… fine.”
But Haon’s head moved in the opposite direction of what Inho hoped.
“It was my fault first, so I don’t need anyone to apologize.”
Haon’s voice rang out calmly as he shook his head. It was a relief he didn’t see Inho’s face just then, eyes cast downward. If he had, his heart would’ve dropped in a flash.
“And I should be the one apologizing. Because of me, so many people were affected…”
His words trailed off, and as he scratched his cheek, Inho stopped him. Haon kept forgetting he’d been hit there, his hand moving out of habit.
“What kind of harm could you have possibly caused?”
Inho asked as he grasped Haon’s hand. Only then did Haon look up and catch the coldness in Inho’s gaze, his voice faltering, lips trembling silently.
“I’m not mad.”
Forcing a smile, Inho said it was okay—he just wanted Haon to answer honestly. But even after hearing that, Haon clamped his mouth shut. The more he spoke, the more it felt like he was upsetting Inho.
Seeing the usually-smiling Inho with such a cold expression was terrifying. Avoiding that icy stare, Haon lowered his head so far his chin nearly touched his chest. He was trying to stay completely silent, but then—
“Hic.”
A hiccup escaped from his throat without warning.
“H-Hic!”
Haon’s shoulders trembled as he clamped his hands over his mouth. He pressed both palms tightly to his lips, but it didn’t do much to muffle the sound. ‘What do I do? Should I just go hide in my room?’
“Drink this.”
At that moment, Inho placed a wine glass in Haon’s hand—not water, but wine.
Haon obediently gulped it down in a few quick swallows. Thanks to that, the hiccups soon subsided. But just as quickly, the alcohol kicked in.
“Haon.”
Inho, now seated on the floor with his knees bent, looked up at Haon. Still lowering his head, Haon responded with a meek smile. The sweet drink had put him back in a slightly better mood.
“Now it’s your turn to answer.”
Inho rested his arm lightly on the edge of Haon’s knee. On the surface, it looked like a gentle touch, but in truth, it was meant to keep him from getting up until he gave a response. Of course, Haon didn’t realize this.
“Who exactly did you hurt, Haon?”
“I, um… well…”
He pressed his hand to his alcohol-soaked head and replied with a slurred tongue. The light pressure from Inho’s arm against his knee seemed to slow his thoughts even further.
“My part-time bosses… and the people I worked with. And…”
He pressed a trembling hand to his lips and let out a sigh. Suddenly, it felt like a heavy stone had been placed squarely on his chest, making it hard to breathe. ‘Did I eat something bad? No… I haven’t eaten anything today.’
“And?”
Inho asked again, seeing the distant look in Haon’s eyes. Haon, now fidgeting with his lips instead of his cheek, added softly:
“The people I slept with.”
He answered while recalling the alphas who had passed through his life.
“…Ha.”
Inho rubbed his eyes and let out a faint sound that might have been a laugh or a sigh.
Wanting to know for sure, Haon leaned forward to study his face.
‘Ah, it was a sigh.’ Realizing that, Haon’s head drooped once again.
“Okay, maybe I get the thing about the bosses and coworkers.”
Inho dropped down fully to sit on the floor and continued the conversation.
“But why the hell do you feel sorry for the ones you slept with?”
Why? There were so many reasons to feel sorry. Enough to make a question like that feel absurd.
“What exactly are you so sorry for? What did you even do wrong?”
But Haon couldn’t answer right away. He swallowed past the heat in his throat, his eyes darting nervously. Maybe it was the alcohol, but his eyes were beginning to well up.
“…If I had just taken better care of myself, none of this would’ve happened.”
He mumbled like a child, pressing his quivering lips tight again.
He didn’t want to go into detail, but Inho was curious—so he forced the words out. Deep down, though, he just wanted to change the subject already.
“I didn’t even like them… but I slept with them anyway because they felt sorry for me… So, yeah, I feel guilty. A lot.”
Was that enough of an answer?
After finishing, Haon glanced at Inho’s glass, asking if he wasn’t going to drink any more. It was a clumsy attempt to change the subject.
“They actually said that to you? That they slept with you out of pity?”
But Inho had no intention of letting the conversation end there.
When Haon gave a faint nod, Inho gently pulled his hand away from his lips, stopping him from picking at the split again. He laced their fingers together.
“Do you remember who said that?”
Inho enveloped the back of Haon’s hand in his own, warm and steady, his gaze softening. His lips curled into a smile, gently coaxing Haon to speak freely. He knew how sensitive Haon was to changes in people’s expressions.
“They all kind of did…”
It was a vague reply, but entirely true. Haon lifted one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug and let out a deep sigh.
‘How much longer do I have to talk about this awful stuff?’
The more he said, the more it hurt. The heavy, shapeless emotions pressed down on his chest like a weight, making it harder and harder to breathe.
“It’s okay… It’s just because I was sick.”
Haon had convinced himself that everything he’d gone through was because of his strange heat symptoms. So there was no one to blame or resent. It was all just a result of how pathetically weak he was.
“I forget things easily anyway. I probably won’t even remember getting hit after a while.”
He trailed off with a murmur—Because I’m stupid. Just as he did, Inho’s hand reached toward his face. Slowly, so Haon wouldn’t be startled, he touched his cheek.
“I understand.”
Haon hadn’t even realized he was crying until Inho reached up to wipe away his tears.
“Sorry for pushing you to talk about it.”
Inho apologized for making him bring up painful memories, gently brushing away the tears that pooled at the corners of Haon’s long lashes. But the more he tried to soothe him, the more Haon cried.
Gritting his teeth, Haon opened his eyes wide, trying to will the tears to stop, but it was no use. All he managed to do was soak Inho’s hand even more.
“I’m sorry…”
His voice cracked with guilt. Inho’s hand was now damp from wiping his face—not just with tears but with runny snot, too. And he’d done it all with his bare hand.
Haon got up to find some tissues, but Inho caught him again, pulling him gently back down by the wrist. As he settled him back into place, he gave him a forced smile.
“We promised you wouldn’t say sorry anymore, remember?”
“M-me?”
Inho nodded, wiping the rest of Haon’s tears away.
Using the back of his hand now instead of his soaked palm, he rubbed gently under Haon’s eyes. Then he smiled, a real smile this time, in response to Haon’s hesitant question.
“Then… what should I say instead?”
Haon was genuinely curious. When it felt like the other person might get upset or angry, if he wasn’t supposed to apologize… then what should he say?
“I don’t know…”
He’d long since become so used to apologizing that “I’m sorry” was the only response that came to mind.
“You should say, ‘Don’t get mad at me so easily.’”
Inho rose from the floor, took a sip of wine, and turned back to face Haon.
“Even if you did something wrong, just tell yourself you didn’t. You’re allowed to do that, Haon.”
He advised Haon to be shameless, to brush it off without guilt—but those gentle eyes only blinked slowly, as if saying he couldn’t possibly do that.
‘Maybe that’s just too hard for Haon.’
Draining the rest of his wine, Inho searched for the right words. There was so much he wanted to say to Haon, he didn’t even know where to begin.
‘Well, there’s no guarantee he’ll even remember this conversation later. I’ll save the important things for another time.’
With that thought, Inho softened his expression further.
“I just want you to be honest with me, Haon.”
Still holding the now-empty glass, he leaned on the table, closing the distance between them. He stared steadily into Haon’s hazy eyes, urging the intoxicated man to focus.
“Tell me everything. Even the smallest things. Whatever comes to mind, just say it. All of it.”
Maybe, with time, if they kept doing this, Haon’s personality would start to change.
Inho silently vowed that over the next year and a half they’d be together, he would fix Haon. If Haon kept going the way he was, something terrible was bound to happen—Inho could see that future all too clearly.
“If you want another drink, just ask. And if my expression’s bothering you, ask if I’m mad.”
He brushed back the strands of hair that had fallen over Haon’s round eyes and continued speaking. As soon as he got Haon’s reply, he planned to finally let him sleep.
“Okay? Just be honest.”
Inho’s gentle voice suddenly cut off—because Haon had stopped it.
Inho froze, lips silenced by Haon’s.
Haon had leaned forward and pressed his own lips against Inho’s, eyes shut tight. But he didn’t pull Inho closer or wrap his arms around him. All he did was lift his chin, lips lightly touching, not moving an inch—like he was frozen in place.
Inho blinked slowly, quietly observing Haon, wondering what exactly he was doing. And then he heard it—the strong, thunderous pounding of Haon’s heart.
Finally, Inho moved. He brought a hand up, gently cupping the back of Haon’s neck, tilting his head slightly.
“…That’s right. Just like that.”
Haon’s stiff lips, paralyzed from nerves, gradually parted. Inho slipped his tongue through the tiny gap, his arm wrapping around Haon’s trembling waist.
