Jung Haon had a delightful dream. It was a dream about the first time he went to Hangang Park with Seo Inho. In the dream, Haon sat side by side with Inho on a bench, a bright smile blooming across his face as they ate ice cream together. Even though it was a dream, he could taste the sweetness.
“Inho-ssi! Let’s ride bicycles!”
Unlike that day in real life, in the dream, it was Haon who grabbed Inho’s hand and pulled him along. With confident steps, Haon headed to the bicycle rental shop and paid with his own card. When the owner asked how many hours they wanted to ride, he answered loudly, “Unlimited, please!”
Haon was far more vibrant and lively than he was in reality. His gestures were grand, his strides wide, his movements brisk and full of energy.
“Look at those flowers over there! Aren’t they pretty?”
Dream-Haon asked Inho with a beaming smile. A gentle breeze carried white petals fluttering through the air. Inho playfully replied that Haon was even prettier.
At that, Haon burst into laughter—so much so that he accidentally swallowed a petal. Seeing this, Inho also broke into hearty laughter. It was the kind of deep, carefree laughter rarely heard in reality.
The two of them pedaled their bicycles nonstop, faces glowing with joy. They looked just like a pair of carefree children.
After racing forward as much as he could, Haon suddenly threw his hand up high. He was trying to catch the white cosmos petals falling from the sky.
“Ah…”
The moment a petal touched Haon’s palm, it withered instantly. Only then did Haon realize what kind of flower it was.
It was the same dried petal he had once tossed into the trash can.
“My flower…”
Haon muttered in his sleep and reached his hand up toward the ceiling. He clenched and unclenched his fist in the empty air, blinking several times before realizing he had woken from the dream.
It was disappointing. It had been such a happy dream.
Letting out a soft sigh, he turned his head to the side—and the sigh disappeared instantly. Haon was lying with his head resting on Inho’s arm.
Inho was still asleep. His steady breathing brushed against Haon’s cheek.
Haon gently scratched his ticklish cheek and slowly, very carefully, turned fully toward Inho. He moved so cautiously that if Inho had seen it, he might have joked that Haon was less like a playful sea otter and more like a slow-moving sloth.
Ah, the flower.
Suddenly remembering, Haon folded down one thumb to make sure he wouldn’t forget. Thanks to seeing the cosmos in his dream, he recalled he had tucked a flower into the pocket of his coat.
Thumb pressed down tightly, Haon leaned in and lightly bumped his lips against the tip of Inho’s chin. He even gently rubbed his lips along Inho’s soft neckline. Still, Inho didn’t wake up. Thank goodness.
Staring at the peacefully sleeping Inho, Haon smiled tenderly. It was a smile with an extra drop of shy affection mixed in.
‘Is it really okay for me to have all of this?’
Haon continued to kiss Inho’s chin and neck, recalling the conversation they had shared the night before. His lips brushed silently against Inho’s skin, overflowing with happiness each time they touched and parted.
He was glad that Inho was still asleep—it meant he could shower him with kisses as much as he wanted. No, it wasn’t just that. He simply loved everything about Inho’s very existence.
Whenever Haon was with Inho, he felt certain he could be happy for the rest of his life. If a miracle could be granted, he wished to stay by his side like this forever.
‘Shall we keep living together?’
And Inho had made that miracle come true.
‘Just like this, forever.’
Turning over the memory of their conversation in his mind, Haon drew a deep, trembling breath. He pressed down on the corners of his mouth that wouldn’t stop curling up into a smile. Compared to when Inho had first asked him to be his boyfriend, the happiness he felt now was simply beyond comparison.
Of course, he had been overjoyed back then too, but he hadn’t been this completely, overwhelmingly filled with bliss.
“Okay, Inho-ssi.”
Covering his lips with his hand, Haon whispered in an incredibly tiny voice, making a sound so faint it was nearly silent, careful not to disturb Inho’s sleep.
“I like you so much… really, really so much.”
Repeating the small, heartfelt confession, he placed one last kiss on the tip of Inho’s nose. He had wanted to kiss him on the lips too, but held himself back. Somehow, that felt too embarrassing.
Snuggling tightly into Inho’s arms for a moment longer, Haon then slowly lifted himself up.
He needed to find the flower before he forgot. Since they hadn’t taken out the trash yet, it should still be there. Hopefully.
Even though it must have wilted by now, it was a flower holding precious memories with Inho. That’s why he had deliberately tucked it into his pocket, even knowing it would wither—to preserve that day a little longer.
Haon descended the stairs one step at a time, when suddenly, he tilted his head in puzzlement. His body felt… different. In a good way.
“Why don’t I hurt…?”
He stopped, leaning on the stair railing, and touched his forehead. His fever had gone down a lot compared to yesterday. The stabbing headache was gone too, and down below, everything felt normal.
It was strange. Normally, even after a heat cycle ended, he would suffer for at least a week.
Haon gently pressed his lower belly, then felt along the inside of his thigh. There was no pain at all—almost miraculously so. He even poked cautiously between his buttocks before stealing a glance toward the bedroom door, then resumed descending the stairs.
Seeing his legs move without issue reminded him of how different this heat had been from usual.
This time, his hunger had been delayed. Though he had gotten wet and lost control like always, he hadn’t felt starved by the time he got into the taxi.
Clearly, it had been different from all the heats he had endured so far. His body had recovered faster, too.
Was it thanks to Inho-ssi?
Somehow, it felt that way. Perhaps Inho’s excellent pheromones had had a positive effect on him.
Or maybe, living with Inho and finding emotional stability had helped ease his symptoms.
Whatever the reason, it was an incredibly positive change. Haon’s steps toward the living room felt lighter than ever. His heart, free of lingering wounds, felt lighter too.
“Oh! There it is…!”
Haon soon opened the lid of the living room trash can and smiled brightly. Squatting down on the floor, he rummaged through the trash and pulled out the wilted petals. Fortunately, they were still there. Though they no longer resembled anything one could rightly call a flower.
He gathered the withered petals one by one and spread them out on his palm. Arranged together, they still somewhat resembled a flower.
“What are you doing?”
Startled by the sudden voice, Haon almost dropped the carefully collected petals.
“Why are you sitting on the floor?”
Inho came up behind him, slipped his hands under Haon’s arms, and effortlessly lifted him up. Cradling him gently, Inho carried Haon over to the sofa.
“When did you wake up?”
“Just a little while ago.”
Inho answered with a soft kiss to Haon’s cheek, his gaze soon drawn to Haon’s carefully cupped palms.
“What’s that?”
“Guess.”
Haon grinned bashfully and brought the “flower” a little closer to Inho. He had asked half in jest and didn’t actually expect Inho to guess it right. It was a flower Haon had imbued with personal meaning, something he had kept quietly to himself—there was no way Inho could remember.
“Hmm, this is Haon-ssi’s hand,”
Inho said, tapping Haon’s pale palm lightly with his fingertip. Haon giggled and agreed.
“And this thing that looks like a tea leaf…”
Next, Inho carefully picked up one of the dried petals and met Haon’s gaze. Watching him, Inho murmured, “It’s a flower, isn’t it?”
“That’s right! It’s a flower!”
Haon nodded excitedly, about to explain what kind of flower it was—but Inho spoke first.
“It’s the flower you picked up when we went to the park, isn’t it?”
He hit the nail on the head without hesitation.
“A cosmos, I think. You tucked it into your pocket.”
“Wh-How…?”
Haon’s eyes went wide with astonishment, his face frozen in disbelief. It was already surprising that Inho remembered the flower—but even more incredible that he remembered Haon had put it in his pocket.
“We saw it together, didn’t we?”
Inho replied as if it were the most natural thing in the world, smiling lightly as if there was no reason to be surprised.
“I… I forgot…”
Haon muttered quietly, lowering his gaze to the petals.
If it hadn’t appeared in his dream, he might have forgotten about it forever. Even though it was a flower holding precious memories with Inho, it had completely slipped his mind.
“I almost forgot… and threw it away.”
Inho glanced at the open trash can while watching Haon’s expression. He could guess what had happened.
“You remembered, though.”
Inho whispered softly as he wrapped his hand around the back of Haon’s.
“And you found it again, like this.”
He gently rearranged the petals Haon had gathered, fixing them neatly in his palm, then bumped his forehead against Haon’s. Naturally, his lips followed, meeting Haon’s in a kiss.
The moment their lips touched, the slight gloom clouding Haon’s face disappeared, replaced by a bright, radiant expression. He looked like a flower drinking in sunlight and water. To Haon, Inho was exactly that kind of presence.
Haon had thought, of course, that the kiss would deepen—but contrary to his expectations, Inho’s lips quickly pulled away.
“How’s your body feeling?”
Inho asked, lightly brushing Haon’s slightly parted lips with his thumb.
“I’m fine.”
“Nothing hurts?”
Haon shook his head confidently. His eyes, oddly more assertive than usual, gleamed like a child proud of some newfound achievement.
“Not at all. I’m perfectly fine.”
“That’s good.”
Inho, his smile gentle, stroked Haon’s forehead and neck. It really seemed like Haon’s fever had gone down significantly in just a day. Maybe it was because he’d sweated a lot.
“You were hurting yesterday, weren’t you?”
Inho was asking if it hadn’t been painful because of him. He still felt guilty about having forced his way inside during their first time.
Understanding what Inho meant, Haon hesitated to answer. It seemed he had been hurt after all.
“Only at first… just a little.”
Haon answered honestly, carefully cupping the petals so they wouldn’t scatter. Then, after a moment’s hesitation, he leaned in close and whispered into Inho’s ear, his voice so faint it was barely audible.
“If we do it often… I think I’ll get used to it.”
