The next morning.
Waking up in Inho’s arms, Haon let out a big yawn and promptly drifted back to sleep.
He wasn’t fully awake, and since everything that had happened with Inho felt like a dream, he didn’t take it seriously. His eyes hadn’t fully opened yet, so he simply felt disappointed he hadn’t seen more of “Inho from his dream.”
By the time he opened his eyes again, the sun was already beginning to set.
Once again, it was Haon who woke up alone. Even after sleeping the entire day to make up for his sleep deficit, his eyelids still felt heavy. If he had woken up in bed, he might have gone right back to sleep.
But Haon was on the living room sofa—nestled in Inho’s arms. Completely exposed from the waist down.
“…Huh?”
As the realization that this wasn’t a dream slowly began to settle in, Haon’s eyes darted around in confusion.
Now sober, the events of the previous night played back in his head like a movie. Even the smallest bits of conversation came back to him with startling clarity.
He hadn’t forgotten that he was the one who initiated the kiss, making the excuse that it was a mistake, blaming the alcohol and kissing a drunken Inho first.
The instant that scene flashed through his mind, Haon’s pale face flushed bright red again.
‘What the hell, what the hell, what the hell!’
Though he screamed inwardly, Haon didn’t budge—still clinging to Inho’s chest. He didn’t even attempt to get up.
He simply stared at Inho, who was fast asleep without so much as a twitch. If not for the faint sound of breathing only detectable with focused ears, Haon’s heart might have dropped in fear. Inho was sleeping like the dead.
‘He must’ve been exhausted.’
Recalling how Inho had suffered a nosebleed, Haon blinked quietly, careful not to disturb his rest. As embarrassed as he felt, a part of him was secretly glad he could look at Inho to his heart’s content.
‘But… will Inho remember?’
A hazy worry drifted up like a puff of cloud and weighed down the corners of Haon’s lips. Part of him wished Inho wouldn’t remember—but at the same time, he didn’t want him to forget. He had no idea what to make of these conflicting feelings.
Wiggling his toes slightly, Haon bit down on his lip. A cool draft of air had slipped between his and Inho’s tightly tangled legs.
With his trembling eyes rolling downward, he carefully looked below. Inho’s pants were only unbuckled, but Haon’s pants and underwear were bunched up around his left knee. His bare right leg was draped over Inho’s thigh.
Haon stifled a sigh at the pitiful sight of himself and glanced down again. His own legs, stained with dried semen, were a mess—but Inho’s lower half, clad in tight-fitting underwear, looked just as flawless as his face.
And to top it off… he was huge. Almost alarmingly so.
Haon blinked, unsure if his eyes were playing tricks on him, then cautiously lowered his gaze further.
Even without being fully erect, it was peeking out—pressing against the fabric of his underwear.
It was monstrous.
‘That was inside me?’
Just imagining the night he couldn’t remember with Inho made Haon’s throat bob. He swallowed dryly, an uncontrollable urge to move taking over as he squeezed his eyes shut.
His whole body felt hot and tingly, like he’d swallowed a tiny ember. Haon imagined a puff of steam rising from the top of his head. Along with that came a firm vow: I am never drinking again.
Alcohol tasted good, but it was way too dangerous. Sure, it gave him courage—but the way it led to overdrinking was a serious issue.
Still… thanks to it, all his questions were answered.
As he recalled the conversation he’d had with Inho last night, the corners of his lips twitched again. That thing Inho said about only dating Alphas? It wasn’t true. He’d only said it to put Haon at ease.
‘Not that I’m expecting anything…’ Haon reassured himself while looking at the soundly sleeping Inho. No one was there to question him, yet he still felt too self-conscious to indulge in his fantasies freely.
“I’ve got money, but I’ve got that many flaws, too.”
And then, just like that, Inho’s alcohol-soaked voice echoed in his ear and faded away.
“I’m a completely useless person.”
The memory of Inho staring blankly into space as he said that sobered Haon’s smile.
‘Why would he say something like that?’
Staring quietly at Inho’s deeply asleep face, Haon fell into thought. There was something new in his gaze—something that hadn’t been there before.
Even if it was just drunken rambling, it had still come from his heart. Otherwise, those words wouldn’t have slipped out.
‘He doesn’t seriously believe that… right?’
To Haon, who could only see Inho as perfect, it was strange to hear such self-deprecating words from him. He even began to wonder if maybe he had imagined Inho saying that—maybe it had actually been himself who said it.
But if—just if—Inho really did believe that about himself…
‘I want to tell him it’s not true. As many times as it takes. Hundreds, even thousands.’
Reaching out slowly, Haon gently caressed Inho’s cheek. Inho didn’t stir at all, still completely asleep.
Haon’s hand moved from the soft cheek to the long eyelashes and the high bridge of his nose. Truthfully, he’d wanted to touch them for a long time.
His pale, trembling fingers—emboldened now—moved slowly but deliberately. The cautious fingertips glided down Inho’s nose and brushed against the dip of his philtrum, then the smooth, unlined lips.
Amazed by the softness that matched his looks, Haon gently pressed the corner of those lips. The thought that his tongue had been inside that mouth felt surreal.
And as soon as he remembered the way Inho’s tongue had delved into every corner of his mouth, tension rippled through his body.
‘So… that’s what a kiss is supposed to feel like.’
Replaying the night with Inho—free of pain or discomfort—Haon wiggled his toes.
He felt like laughing out loud for no reason. Like stretching his arms and legs out wide and letting out a big yawn.
‘Nope. I need to get up now.’
With that ticklish feeling still lingering in his chest, he carefully began to lift himself up.
He had planned to cover Inho with a blanket, since the man showed no sign of waking up. Inho had looked so exhausted—Haon just wanted him to sleep as long as possible.
“Uh…”
But as soon as Haon stood up, his butt landed back on the soft couch with a soft plop.
Startled, Haon looked down to see Inho pulling on his wrist.
“Y-you’re awake?”
‘How long had he been up?’ Haon had just been secretly touching his face—he swallowed hard like someone caught red-handed.
He anxiously waited for Inho’s response, but none came.
Inho just stared at him in silence, slumped loosely on the sofa. His grip on Haon’s wrist wasn’t even that firm.
“…You should sleep a little more.”
Seeing that Inho still looked half-asleep, Haon whispered gently.
Inho’s eyelids fluttered, almost closing and opening again at an excruciatingly slow pace. ‘He can just go back to sleep…’
Haon tilted his head in puzzlement at Inho’s effort to keep his eyes open, then turned toward him.
“I’ll go get you a blanket.”
He gave a little tug to free his wrist, but Inho’s hand slipped down and grabbed the hem of Haon’s shirt instead. His half-lidded eyes were hazy with sleep—or maybe he was still a little drunk.
Haon stared at Inho’s dazed expression with fascination, then looked quietly at the arm Inho was holding onto.
How much time passed like that, he wasn’t sure. Then, with a calm expression, Haon adjusted his posture and moved a little closer. He placed his hand gently on Inho’s chest.
“I’ll stay right here. I’m not going anywhere.”
He softly patted Inho’s chest, hoping he’d fall back asleep.
And sure enough, Inho, still clutching Haon’s sleeve, slowly closed his eyes. Even after he slipped into a deep sleep, his hand never let go of Haon’s arm.
***
Even late into the night, the living room was filled only with the sound of peaceful breathing.
It was as if Inho were making up for all the rest he’d been missing—he spent the entire day sound asleep. Haon, who had ended up in Inho’s arms again, eventually dozed off too, nodding off bit by bit until he was fast asleep.
Haon was always a heavy sleeper. Unlike Inho, who was sensitive to his sleeping environment, Haon could sleep so deeply he wouldn’t wake up even if someone carried him away.
Around midnight, Inho finally opened his eyes and instinctively rubbed his forehead. Anticipating the morning headache he usually got, he reached up to touch his head—then tilted it in confusion.
Haon was fast asleep, clinging tightly to him. And not even in bed—on the couch.
Inho slowly replayed the events of the previous night and let out a soft chuckle. He had been a lot drunker than he’d realized, so his memory was fuzzy—but fragments still came back.
Smiling gently, he looked down at Haon, who was hugging him like a pillow.
He didn’t feel like he’d slept that long, but his body felt incredibly light—almost strangely so.
“…Haon-ssi.”
Barely moving his lips, Inho called out softly, “Haon-ssi.”
Just like Haon had done earlier, Inho had no intention of waking the peacefully sleeping face in front of him.
He watched Haon for a long while, then carefully loosened the arm wrapped around his shoulder and slowly got up. Worried he might catch a cold after sleeping without a blanket, he decided to carry Haon into the bedroom.
As he naturally glanced down at Haon’s legs, Inho tilted his head again. Haon’s pants were neatly fastened, buckle and all. Now that he looked, his own zipper had also been pulled up.
He remembered undressing—both of them—but not dressing again.
Puzzled, Inho tilted his head as he gently laid Haon down on the bed.
Haon let out soft, steady breaths through parted lips, his mouth twitching slightly with each exhale. The sight of his face made Inho smile again as he watched for a while longer.
Seeing Haon so deeply asleep made Inho’s own eyelids start to droop. So he lay down right beside him, snuggling close, and shut his eyes with a sense of ease.
And after that, he didn’t wake up once until morning.
It was the first time he’d ever slept so deeply and so long—without the help of alcohol or medication.
