A faint light leaked through the gap in the blackout curtains covering the window. Even though it was midday, Inho’s bedroom, with the lights turned off, was as dark as night.
Haon sat there, staring blankly at the TV screen as the ending credits of the movie rolled. Even after the film ended, he was still swept up in the lingering emotions, savoring the ending music as he mulled over the story.
“It was so good…”
It was a bright, musical film about the love story of two dream-filled lovers—one that Inho had recommended, thinking Haon would enjoy it.
Just as Inho had predicted, Haon watched the entire movie without taking his eyes off the screen even once during its more than two-hour runtime. With movies like this, he felt like he could watch all day.
“It was really amazing.”
Only after the ending music had completely finished did Haon turn to look at Inho. His face lit up with excitement, and he gave Inho’s arm—clutched tightly like a cushion—a little shake.
But there was no response from Inho. Tilting his head to check, Haon found that Inho had fallen asleep.
“Inho-ssi, are you sleeping…?”
Haon lowered his voice as he spoke, gazing at Inho’s quietly closed eyes. He couldn’t tell if Inho was truly asleep or just pretending again.
Inho sat leaning against the bed’s headboard, his eyes merely closed without his mouth hanging open or his posture collapsing. That only made it more suspicious.
Haon stared at him intently before cautiously unwrapping his arms. Then, he leaned closer to Inho’s face and gently pressed a kiss onto his tightly closed lips—to check if he was really asleep.
If Inho had been awake, he would’ve reacted to the kiss. Yet Inho didn’t stir at all, even when Haon licked along his lower lip with the tip of his tongue. He simply remained there, eyes closed in complete stillness.
Looks like he really is sleeping. Just as Haon thought that, Inho’s head suddenly tilted and slid softly to the side.
“Oh…”
Startled, Haon quickly caught Inho’s head. Moving cautiously so as not to wake him, he eased Inho’s body down onto the bed. He tucked a pillow under Inho’s head, which had grown heavy, letting it rest comfortably.
Fortunately, Inho continued to sleep as if unconscious, not even twitching an eyebrow.
Haon quickly turned off the TV and carefully pulled the blanket over Inho. He even adjusted Inho’s face, which had turned to the side, to face the ceiling.
While caressing Inho’s smooth cheek, Haon reflexively planted a kiss on it. Not just once, but two or three times.
Pressing his lips firmly against Inho’s skin, Haon finally stopped, worried that if he kept going, he might wake him up. In truth, he wanted to kiss every corner of Inho’s face, leaving marks to claim him as his own.
Suppressing a giggle that threatened to burst out, he covered his mouth and leaned his cheek against the edge of Inho’s pillow.
It felt like this was the first time he was truly seeing Inho’s sleeping face. Honestly, it wasn’t much different from when Inho pretended to sleep. Even in slumber, Inho’s appearance remained flawlessly perfect, without a single opening for vulnerability.
Haon admired Inho’s finely drawn profile, as if painted with a brush, and gently pressed a fingertip against his thin lips. Deep in slumber, Inho still showed no sign of stirring.
He must have been really tired.
Up until they started the movie, there had been no sign of sleepiness at all. Not even a hint of nodding off. Haon had been so engrossed in the film that he hadn’t noticed when Inho had fallen asleep.
Feeling strangely guilty about it, Haon carefully caressed Inho’s cheek. If he had been the one to doze off, Inho would have immediately turned off the TV—Haon was sure of it. Yet he hadn’t even noticed.
Blaming himself for his own obliviousness, Haon tenderly ran his fingers through Inho’s hair. When he was young, whenever he couldn’t sleep at night, his grandmother would stroke his hair like this. Even if he had been crying, he would eventually drift off to sleep.
Lost in those old memories, a faint smile played on Haon’s lips. As he continued combing through Inho’s hair with his fingers, he suddenly tilted his head, puzzled.
Upon closer inspection, he noticed that the roots of Inho’s hair were black. Amidst the light brown strands, darker hair was beginning to grow out.
So he had dyed it. Only then did Haon realize that Inho’s bright hair color wasn’t natural.
It was astonishing. His hair was so smooth and soft, yet it had been dyed. Having only seen Seong-gu hyung ruin his hair with cheap dye before, Haon found this almost unbelievable.
If he hadn’t spotted the black roots, he would’ve never known. That’s how naturally the color suited Inho—it looked as if it were his original hair color.
Fascinated, Haon spent a long time admiring each strand of Inho’s hair. Then he suddenly opened his mouth slightly, a thought surfacing. It was because he remembered Inho’s mother, with her jet-black hair and porcelain-white skin, like a princess from a fairytale.
Inho had inherited not only his striking looks but also his mother’s black hair—and then had erased it with dye.
Without a word, Haon lifted Inho’s hair and pressed a kiss to the ends of the bright brown strands. His eyes, gazing down at the sleeping Inho, brimmed with unspoken thoughts.
After quietly watching over Inho for a long while, he suddenly remembered something and slipped out of the room. His footsteps were light, careful not to make a sound.
Haon headed straight for the kitchen and pulled out a soy milk from the fridge, taking a few sips. Watching the movie so intently had made him a little hungry. Even though he had eaten lunch, his stomach was already feeling empty. He thought about having some fruit but decided to hold off since dinner wasn’t far off.
Slurp—he sucked down the soy milk, then reflexively reached toward his pants pocket, only to pause midair. Right, he wasn’t wearing pants.
Wandering around the living room in just a shirt without pants felt a little embarrassing. Haon quickly went to his room and pulled on a pair of pajama pants along with fresh underwear. It felt strange, wearing pants again after a while.
“My phone…”
Fidgeting with his empty pockets, Haon debated whether he should go look for his phone. After making a quick call to his weekend boss once earlier, he hadn’t touched his phone at all.
He had been given permission to take the weekend off this week as well. Thankfully, the boss had simply wished him a good recovery without getting angry. Haon was determined to work even harder once he returned.
He resolved to work even harder once he returned. There were so many people he was grateful to.
In the end, he decided to look for his phone later and instead pulled out the bag he had stored in the closet. Unzipping the worn-out zipper, he grabbed several sheets of origami paper he had kept inside. He wanted to make a new good luck charm for Inho.
The otter-shaped origami he had gifted Inho had gotten soaked in the rain and was now all crumpled. Haon had offered to make him a new one, but Inho stubbornly refused to throw the wrinkled otter away. Even now, it was tucked safely in the pocket of Inho’s pants.
“Maybe I should fold something else this time.”
Shaking his head lightly, Haon sprawled out on his stomach on the bed and spread out the colorful papers. As he picked up each sheet, he hummed a tune to himself—it was one of the musical numbers from the movie. He didn’t remember the lyrics, but the melody stuck perfectly in his mind.
Time flew by as he pondered what else he could fold besides an otter. In the end, he spent all that time thinking and hadn’t even started folding anything.
There were plenty of things he could make, but he had no idea what Inho would like. Besides the otter, nothing else came to mind.
Just then, Haon’s door suddenly burst open. Startled by the loud noise, Haon’s eyes widened, and he dropped the origami paper he was holding.
“Why are you here?”
Inho, who had flung the door open, asked.
He quickly approached Haon, reaching out his hand. Reflexively, Haon flinched and tightly shut his eyes as the large hand came toward his face. His shoulders tensed, and he ducked his head. Even though he knew Inho would never hit him, his body instinctively reacted.
Inho immediately pulled his hand back and silently studied Haon’s expression with his eyes alone. For a moment, he thought Haon had collapsed on the bed. All alone, again, when he wasn’t there.
“What were you doing?”
“Ah, I was, um, just thinking about origami…”
Opening his eyes, Haon grabbed Inho’s hand tightly. Though it had only been a brief moment, he couldn’t shake off the guilt of flinching away, so he gripped Inho’s hand even more firmly.
“After we finished the movie, my hands felt restless.”
“If you were bored, you should’ve woken me up.”
Still holding Haon’s hand, Inho glanced down at the scattered origami paper on the bed. Instead of sitting beside Haon, he continued speaking while standing.
“I got worried when I didn’t see you.”
The deeper crease between his brows showed how sincere he was. Even though it hadn’t been hours—just the brief moment of waking up and not finding Haon there—he looked genuinely shaken.
To others, it might have seemed like an overreaction. It probably would have looked that way to anyone else.
“I’m sorry… I’ll make sure to tell you next time before I go downstairs.”
But Haon only felt sorry for making him worry. He regretted coming down without saying anything, just because he wanted to fold some origami.
“No, you don’t need to apologize.”
Only after Haon sincerely apologized did Inho finally relax his expression and sit down next to him.
“I just… I was a little surprised, that’s all.”
Saying that was all there was to it, Inho pulled Haon into his arms, resting his chin against Haon’s pale neck. He inhaled Haon’s scent like breathing in air, wrapping his arms tightly around Haon’s slender body.
“What were you planning to fold?”
Nestled comfortably in Inho’s arms, Haon answered that he was still thinking about it. Seeing Inho’s softened expression made his heart quickly feel at ease.
“Besides the otter, what else do you like? I’ll make you anything you want.”
As Haon fluttered the origami paper while asking, Inho responded without a moment’s hesitation. You, Haon-ssi.
“No, I mean among animals.”
Haon chuckled softly, boasting that he could make almost any animal. Yet Inho simply repeated the same answer.
“I like you the most.”
Hearing the genuine sincerity in his voice, Haon’s laughter deepened. Inho, smiling brightly at Haon’s pure laugh, pressed several kisses to his forehead as he rose from his seat.
“Let’s go upstairs.”
Still holding Haon with one arm, Inho gathered the origami papers and tucked them back into the worn bag. Then he asked if there was anything else Haon needed to bring.
Haon glanced around his spacious room but shook his head, unable to think of anything.
“Then you won’t come downstairs alone anymore, right?”
Hearing the follow-up question, Haon, resting his cheek against Inho’s solid shoulder, lifted his head slightly.
“…For now, no.”
His ambiguous answer made Inho smile gently. Saying Alright, he turned off the room’s light. Cradling Haon carefully in his arms, he climbed the long staircase back up to his bedroom.
Inho’s arms tightly wrapped around him, Haon simply gazed up, silently admiring his pale, handsome face.
