“Yeah…”
That faint reply from Haon marked the end of their conversation.
Even as they rode the elevator, passed through the glass door, and walked down the front corridor, not a single word was exchanged between them. Haon just kept fiddling with his mask, stealing glances at Inho’s expression.
“Get some rest. Call me if you need anything.”
Inho, walking a step ahead of Haon, paused in front of the stairs. He turned his head just slightly to meet Haon’s gaze.
“I’ll give you a new phone tomorrow. I ordered a few—pick one you like.”
‘Not just one, but a few?’
Haon almost blurted out a refusal on reflex, but swallowed it down. He didn’t want to upset Inho any further.
“Okay. Thank you.”
He gave a small bow as he looked at Inho’s unusually subdued expression. He didn’t want a new phone in the slightest, but he tried to seem genuinely grateful.
“I’ll use it well.”
“…Alright.”
Inho watched Haon bow deeply before turning and heading upstairs.
The soft swish of fabric slippers sliding across the smooth floor echoed behind him. Hearing it, Haon slowly raised his head. A deep worry darkened his face.
He followed Inho’s retreating figure and headed toward his own room, each step heavier than usual. His sluggish legs moved as if mirroring the frustration in his heart. With a sigh, he cursed his slow-moving body for being just as stifling as his personality.
“Haon-ssi.”
Just as he took another reluctant step, Inho’s voice called out from behind. Haon turned quickly toward the sound. Inho was standing midway up the stairs, looking right at him. How long had he been there?
“Sleep well.”
Inho met Haon’s wide, startled eyes and offered a simple good-night. He didn’t add anything else.
“Yeah… Good night.”
Haon murmured to Inho’s back as he walked away again. Even after the sound faded, his lips kept moving silently as he stared up the dim staircase.
He didn’t even know what he wanted to say. He just stood there, rooted in place, until Inho finally vanished from sight.
***
That night, for the first time, Haon couldn’t sleep.
Ever since he started staying at Inho’s place, he’d never had trouble falling asleep—not once. He wasn’t sensitive about where he slept; usually, the moment his head hit the pillow, he was out cold.
But tonight, no matter how hard he tried to drift off, the relentless swarm of thoughts chased away every ounce of sleep.
“Ha…”
The sun was already rising outside the window.
Giving up on sleep altogether, Haon dragged himself out of bed and trudged into the bathroom. Lying there all day wouldn’t help anyway—he didn’t feel the least bit sleepy.
‘I need at least a little rest if I’m going to function today. This is bad.’
Ssshhh—
With the sun just now peeking over the horizon, he figured he still had some time before work and started running a hot bath. Ever since his phone—his only way of keeping time in Inho’s house—was broken, he had no idea what time it actually was.
Haon sat down in the spacious tub and adjusted the temperature of the water rising to his navel. He spread his legs slightly. The pain had eased a bit since yesterday, but it still felt uncomfortable to sit.
“Still pretty swollen…”
He rested his face on one bent knee and gently touched the tender area below. Carefully parting the slightly puffy folds, he slid a fingertip into the narrow opening. Sure enough, it was swollen inside too.
Withdrawing his hand, he brought his legs back together and wrapped his arms around his knees, burying his downcast face in them. He felt miserable. No—really miserable.
He felt guilty for not grabbing his phone, which had caused Inho so much trouble. He hated how his timid personality only seemed to make things harder. And the blank spot in his memory from the night they spent together—how he couldn’t remember a thing—sat like a weight in his chest.
He used to think it was a blessing not to remember anything after sending out heat and being with an Alpha. But now… now he resented himself for forgetting a moment he’d spent in the arms of someone he liked. All he had left were the dull aches in his body, and it hurt that this was the only way he could imagine what being with Inho had felt like.
To Haon, sex had always been an unfamiliar and terrifying thing. Once the fever of heat passed and he came back to his senses, being held by an Alpha only brought him dread. He always wanted to run when they touched him. Even if he smiled on the outside, inside he was begging to be let go.
‘Was it the same when I was in his arms…?’
Kicking gently at the water, he wiped his face with a hand. Even in such a nice bathtub, surrounded by warm water, all he could do was drown in these grim, pathetic thoughts.
Snapping out of his daze, Haon shook his head firmly. If he kept this up, he might end up showing his gloom in front of Inho too. He forced the corners of his lips up into a smile. He didn’t want to be hated any more than he already might be.
“Don’t act like you like him in front of that man.”
While practicing his fake smile, a conversation with Tae-hwi hyung surfaced in his mind.
“I’m telling you this for your own good. Don’t give your heart away too easily—just like him a little, that’s all.”
“Why…?”
The moment he recalled that exchange, the smile he was struggling to hold curved downward again.
“Do you really not know?”
As if answering Tae-hwi’s quiet question, Haon gave a tiny shake of his head. He did know. He knew all too well that he shouldn’t show his feelings to Inho.
The emotions he carried would only make Inho uncomfortable. After all, Inho had made it clear from the start—he doesn’t date Omegas.
‘He was drawing a line… to be considerate.’
If Haon crossed that line, even by mistake, he might be kicked out of this house. Of course it would be awkward, living alone with an Omega who liked him.
Haon suddenly stood up in the tub and turned on the cold water.
He needed to cool down—physically and mentally. He worked the muscles around his mouth, trying to craft a more natural smile.
He wanted to stay at Inho’s house for the next year and a half. That was the time they had agreed upon, and Haon genuinely hoped to see it through to the end.
“Ah…”
As he scratched his head, shampoo-laced water ran into his eyes. Blinking against the sting, he tried to rinse them out with water, and an abrupt thought hit him.
‘Maybe if I keep ignoring these fluttering feelings, I’ll eventually forget them… Because I’m dumber than anyone I know.’
***
After his shower, thirst hit him. Haon shook the water from his damp hair and opened his bedroom door. It was early morning, so naturally, he assumed Inho would still be asleep.
“You’re up early.”
But Inho’s voice cut through the quiet and caught Haon completely off guard. Startled, he froze on the spot.
Inho was standing in the kitchen, drinking from a blue glass bottle of carbonated water—something he often drank like regular water. Judging by the sweat on his skin, he had just finished a workout.
“You took a shower?”
“Yeah…”
Haon responded awkwardly, then noticed how stiff his expression had become and quickly forced a smile. Seeing Haon suddenly flash such a bright grin, Inho seemed to forget what he was about to say. He closed his mouth and gently set the blue bottle down.
The clink of glass hitting marble echoed in the silence that followed.
Their gazes—marked by different depths of emotion—drifted aimlessly, never meeting. Instead of looking at each other, they stared off at the empty living room and the hazy morning light outside the window.
“You should dry your hair.”
It was Inho again who broke the silence.
“You’ll catch a cold if you don’t.”
“Ah… Right. I’ll go dry it.”
Haon immediately returned to his room at Inho’s prompting. Though he usually preferred to let his hair air-dry, he dug out the hairdryer he rarely used and plugged it in.
Whirrr—the oddly shaped dryer roared to life as he quickly dried his hair. Thankfully, his fine strands shed moisture fast.
Afterward, he carefully combed his hair and even remembered to apply lotion to his face—something he used to neglect back when he lived in the countryside. But this was Inho’s house. The house of someone he liked. He needed to take better care of how he looked.
Smiling into the mirror, his expression faltered as he noticed a bruise on his cheek. He tried pulling his hair forward to cover it, but with his short cut, it was nearly impossible to hide.
Knock knock.
That was when Inho tapped on Haon’s door and stepped in, carrying a small tray. The door had been left ajar since Haon had rushed in earlier.
“I figured you might be thirsty.”
On the tray were a cup of warm tea and a small bowl of thin rice porridge. Inho stood quietly in front of the TV, waiting as if to ask permission to come in.
“Come in.”
Haon greeted Inho with a soft “thank you” as he stepped in.
Seeing the gentle smile on Inho’s face, the heavy weight in Haon’s chest seemed to ease—just a little.
“Sit on the bed while you drink it.”
When Inho placed the tray on the nightstand, Haon moved without protest and sat where he was directed. The warm tea went down smoothly, just what he needed with his throat still parched.
“Thank you.”
After moistening his throat with the fragrant tea, he began fiddling with the handle of the teacup. Inho simply stood in front of him, quietly watching as Haon drank—his expression suggesting he had something to say.
“Haon-ssi, about last ni—”
Cough!
Just as Inho began to speak, a cough burst from Haon’s damp throat. He’d breathed in wrong.
“P-please, go on—cough—I’m listening—cough.”
The fit wouldn’t let up, as if something had truly gone down the wrong pipe. Inho sat beside him and gently rubbed his trembling back.
“Should I bring you some lukewarm water?”
“No, I’m okay n—”
The coughing subsided quickly, but Haon trailed off. He suddenly recalled the last thing Inho had said the night before:
“Stop saying you’re okay.”
Right. He’d told him not to say that anymore.
“The tea’s cooled down a bit. Just finish this.”
At Inho’s words, Haon forced another small smile and took a slow sip of the tea. But his gaze kept dropping to the floor. He couldn’t bring himself to meet Inho’s eyes.
‘I want to look at him. But if I do… I’ll remember the sigh he let out in the car.’
Last night, Inho had looked so frustrated. Just the sight of one slightly furrowed brow had crushed Haon’s heart. He’d never seen him wear that kind of expression before.
“Haon-ssi.”
Hearing his name spoken in that gentle voice, Haon glanced up slightly. His fingers nervously fidgeted with the teacup.
“Sometimes… I say things too bluntly.”
Inho carefully took the cup from Haon’s hands, then rubbed his forehead with his free hand. He wasn’t used to conversations like this; his words didn’t flow easily.
“It’s only once in a while. When I’m in a bad mood. I don’t want to, but sometimes the words just come out wrong.”
Despite the pauses between sentences, the sincerity in his voice was unmistakable. Haon perked up, focusing on every word.
“I didn’t say anything before because I was afraid I’d do that in front of you too. But it wasn’t because I was angry.”
Haon didn’t want to miss even the faintest breath he let out.
“I’m sorry. For making you uncomfortable.”
The feeling that had been dragging Haon across the floor all night suddenly started to lift, drifting upward like a balloon toward the ceiling. Trying to keep himself grounded, he swallowed hard.
“N-no… it’s fine…”
A beat too late, Haon shook his head along with his hand, flustered.
“You don’t have to apologize. You were upset because of me, after all.”
‘I should be the one saying sorry,’ he wanted to add—but he couldn’t, not after Inho had told him to stop apologizing. All Haon could do was try his best to refuse the apology.
“You’re right. I was upset because of you.”
Inho replied honestly as he set the teacup down on the tray. That familiar, drowsy smile curved at his lips.
“I was more than a little hurt that you forgot about me, Haon-ssi.”
I spent the whole day worrying about you.
Though said with a laugh, those words didn’t sound like a joke at all. Hidden behind Inho’s light tone, Haon heard something far deeper. Or maybe… he just wanted to believe it was sincere.
“I won’t forget again.”
Haon clutched the bowl of porridge Inho handed him next, holding it tightly as he made his vow.
Unlike Inho’s calm smile, Haon’s expression was deadly serious.
“I promise I won’t forget. Ever again.”
It was a promise he couldn’t truly guarantee—but he blurted it out anyway, offering it up to Inho like an oath.
“I’ll remember everything. Every single thing you say, Inho-ssi.”
That day, for the first time in his life, Haon made a promise he wasn’t sure he could keep.
