Just as Inho was finally about to pull away after one last lingering kiss, this time Haon bit down gently on Inho’s lower lip.
Haon stood on his tiptoes, wrapping his arms around Inho’s neck. He desperately wanted to convey the overwhelming emotions surging inside him after returning home together. A simple kiss wasn’t nearly enough to express all that he felt, and the frustration gnawed at him.
“Inho-ssi….”
“Yes.”
“Thank you so much… truly, thank you for coming with me.”
Inho brushed his damp lips lightly against Haon’s and shook his head.
“I’m the one who’s grateful. Thank you for bringing me.”
“No, I’m much, much more grateful.”
“That’s not true.”
Still locked in a tight embrace, the two argued over who was more thankful, bickering softly. It was as if they were competing to see who could kiss the other more, peppering each other’s faces with countless kisses. No matter how much they kissed, it was never enough. If it were possible, they would have swallowed each other whole, savoring one another for the rest of their lives.
Beeeeep—!!
It wasn’t until Seong-gu, unable to endure it any longer, blared the horn that they reluctantly broke apart. Their lingering gazes clung desperately to one another, heavy with reluctance.
Inho made a move to step outside and thank Seong-gu properly, but Haon stopped him. It was obvious that Hyung (Seong-gu) would just brush off any thanks anyway. Haon didn’t want to put Inho-ssi in an awkward spot any longer.
“Sleep comfortably. If you need anything or have any questions, just text me right away.”
“You too, Haon-ssi. Don’t worry about me.”
After reluctantly letting go of Inho’s hand, Haon headed toward the front gate. Standing on the porch, Inho waved at him as he walked away, the distance between them slowly growing. Even though they would see each other again in just a few hours, it felt as if they were lovers about to be separated for years, and Inho couldn’t tear his eyes away.
Haon turned back nearly ten times before he finally disappeared beyond the gate. Even after the clanging sound of the iron gate shutting echoed through the yard, Inho didn’t move. He intended to stay put until he heard the sound of the truck leaving.
But instead of the truck’s engine, he heard the gate creak open again.
Haon peeked his head through the rusty gate and, spotting Inho still standing on the porch, came running back toward him. Had he forgotten something? Inho instinctively reached out his hand, wondering what Haon might have left behind.
“Let’s have breakfast together tomorrow.”
Ah, so that’s what he came running back to say.
“Alright. Let’s eat together.”
“I’ll come right after sunrise!”
He had already said that earlier, but Inho kept his thoughts to himself, slowly nodding. Watching Haon rush back to him made his chest ache with tenderness, as if his heart would physically hurt from the overwhelming affection. He clenched his jaw tightly, afraid that if he opened his mouth, he might blurt out Don’t go.
“Get home safely.”
After finally squeezing out the words, Inho looked down at Haon. Since he was standing on the porch, Haon had to tilt his head so far back it seemed on the verge of snapping.
Inho moved to step down from the porch to meet Haon at eye level. It felt like Haon still had something left to say.
“Inho-ssi.”
Just as Inho bent his head down to find his shoes, Haon suddenly closed the distance between them and thrust his face up close.
“I love you.”
Haon’s face, flushed red all the way to the tip of his nose, came so close that they could almost touch. It was a color more radiant than the ripest apple.
Then, without giving Inho even a moment to respond, Haon pressed a soft kiss to his cheek and bolted out the gate.
Inho stood frozen in an awkward posture at the edge of the porch. I love you. Inho-ssi, I love you. Haon’s tender voice echoed in his ears like a lingering refrain.
It wasn’t as if he hadn’t already known, yet somehow his heart raced anew, as if it were the first time anyone had ever confessed their love to him.
He sank to his knees right there on the porch, listening to the sound of the truck engine growing fainter and fainter. Absentmindedly rubbing the tips of his ears, still burning, he leaned his chin into his palm and let out a soft chuckle.
“I love you more.”
The answer he hadn’t managed to say aloud, he etched into his palm instead. Tomorrow, when they met again, he vowed he would confess his love before even saying good morning.
“So stay with me.”
That lingering thought he let scatter into the cool night air.
“Don’t leave me alone.”
This one too.
“I can’t sleep without you, Haon-ssi.”
And that as well.
Sending off the confessions he didn’t dare let the night sky overhear, he laughed quietly, as if there were holes poked in his lungs. The damp scent of wet earth mixed with the countryside air seemed to play tricks on his head, making him giddy for no reason at all.
He leaned against an old wooden post and stayed there for a long while, motionless. Even though the blackened sky hid most of the scenery, he kept gazing around as if there was something new to discover. If Haon had been there, he probably would have asked what on earth Inho was looking at, considering there was hardly anything to see.
Yet Inho could have sat there until sunrise without moving an inch. Knowing this was a place where a young Haon had once run around and spent his days made it impossible not to be sentimental.
‘Did he sit on that bench and stare up at the sky like this? Maybe he sat here on the porch, spacing out all by himself.’
If it was Haon-ssi, it had to be true. He was someone who could marvel at a sight he saw every day as if he were seeing it for the first time, declaring it beautiful with childlike wonder.
“Haon-ssi.”
A person purer and clearer than anyone else in the world.
“Haon-ah.”
Inho softly repeated the precious name, carefully capturing every detail of the world around him in his eyes.
His gaze wandered over to the flowerbed arranged in front of the stone wall and even lingered on the dog bowls, clearly set out with love and care. He even scrutinized the faded, weather-beaten flashlight with a strange sort of earnestness.
“Jealous…”
Muttering under his breath, Inho collapsed onto the porch. Laughably, he found himself jealous of everything surrounding Haon. And it wasn’t even a joke—it was genuine.
He was jealous of the childhood Haon that he would never get to see. Inho dragged his fingertips across the wooden porch where Haon must have once stepped, letting out a long sigh. The jealousy that had been sparked only grew heavier with each passing second.
“I miss you.”
The mere thought of a toddling Haon made his chest ache. Even as he found himself feeling jealous of inanimate objects, he steadfastly refused to think about Seong-gu. He knew that if he started down that path, it would never end.
Running a hand lightly through his hair, Inho pulled out his phone from his pocket. Maybe if he looked at Haon’s pictures, he could endure this lonely night a little better.
As soon as he grasped the phone, a call came in at perfect timing. The caller was Hyo-jeong. Just as well.
—Did you get there safely?
The moment he accepted the call, Hyo-jeong’s voice came through the speaker.
“Just arrived.”
—Are you alone?
She immediately sensed that Haon wasn’t by his side. When Inho didn’t deny it, Hyo-jeong asked worriedly.
—You didn’t have a fight, did you?
“We didn’t fight.”
Inho briefly explained the situation. When he said he had been “robbed” of Haon by someone akin to a father-in-law, Hyo-jeong burst into laughter.
—It’s your first time sleeping in a place like that, isn’t it? Are you sure you’ll be okay alone?
“At my age, it’d be pathetic if I wasn’t.”
Hyo-jeong’s laughter bubbled over again. The situation was so fresh and unexpected that she laughed until tears welled up in her eyes. She even sniffled, wiping the corners of her eyes.
—Still, be careful. Rural places are full of ghosts.
“Honestly, it feels like something could pop out.”
Inho stretched as he scanned the pitch-black surroundings, not a single streetlight in sight. But whether it was a person or a ghost, neither held any real significance for him. The only thing that could stir his emotions was Haon.
—Did you only bring enough medication for two months?
“For now.”
Even though he had cleaned out his apartment in Seoul, he had decided with Haon to occasionally visit the city. He would have to go up at least twice a year for regular check-ups anyway.
“Noona.”
As he stepped into the room, Inho casually called out to her. He had been planning to check in when he was alone anyway.
“Are you absolutely sure Haon-ssi is okay?”
Before they moved to the countryside, Haon had undergone a check-up with Hyo-jeong. Along with basic blood work, they had done pheromone testing and an ultrasound of his uterus.
The results were exactly as Haon already knew. Nothing had significantly worsened—or improved.
—How many times are you going to ask me? I’ve already told you everything. Pregnancy is going to be difficult.
“Not that.”
Inho responded as if the reason he was digging wasn’t about that at all. When Hyo-jeong asked what exactly he was worried about, Inho slid the door shut and hesitated before answering.
“My pheromones… they’re not harmful to Haon-ssi, right?”
He couldn’t stop worrying that his pheromones might put a strain on Haon’s body, being a recessive Omega. If that was the case, he needed to take action immediately.
—Yes, Haon-ssi’s pheromones are actually stabilizing. This is the third time I’m telling you.
“Tell me more. In detail.”
Though she sighed heavily, Hyo-jeong, as always, patiently indulged him. She briefly reiterated what she had already explained to the point of exhaustion.
—Your pheromone compatibility isn’t bad. Actually, it’s on the better side. For partners with good compatibility like that, sex is even beneficial to their health. So it’s perfectly fine to release a small amount of pheromones. It’ll help stabilize Haon-ssi’s emotions too.
Before meeting Inho, Haon’s heat cycles had never lasted more than two days. But whenever he spent them with Inho, they always stretched beyond five days. That was clear evidence of strong pheromone compatibility.
—It’s good news. Be happy and relax.
“You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”
—Inho, do you forget sometimes that I’m a doctor? You think I’d throw words around lightly?
“Just because you’re a doctor doesn’t mean you’re always right.”
Momentarily at a loss for words, Hyo-jeong told him to find another doctor if he was that suspicious. Though she grumbled under her breath that it would be hard to find a better one than her.
The truth was, there was a reason Inho was so tenaciously suspicious. Before moving to the countryside, Haon had asked Inho to step out so he could meet privately with Hyo-jeong.
“If there’s anything you told Haon-ssi and not me, don’t hide it. Tell me everything.”
—I told you the exact same thing I told him. Haon-ssi said so too. You really need to start trusting people.
“You two talked for eight minutes without me.”
It hadn’t been a short time. He remembered standing just outside the door, glancing at his watch anxiously the entire time. Afraid that something might be wrong with Haon’s body.
—…Are you like this in front of Haon-ssi too?
Hyo-jeong clicked her tongue audibly, clearly exasperated.
“Of course not.”
Inho laughed lightly and asked back as if that were impossible.
There was no way he could ever show this side of himself to Haon-ssi—this nervous, suspicious, clingy part of him that could drive others to exhaustion.
“Our Haon-ssi should only see the good things.”
Even if Haon had already caught glimpses of it, Inho vowed never to reveal it fully—as long as he lived.
