The one who unfailingly pushed into his mind and took over it—no matter how busy he was—was, absurdly enough, that kid named Kim Kang-woo. Unless he deliberately focused on something else, the flow of his thoughts repeatedly began with Kim Kang-woo and ended with Kim Kang-woo.
And this was a very bad sign.
Because Seok-ho knew exactly what that repeated pattern meant, it left him troubled.
That day when Kang-woo, while drinking together, suddenly brought up the topic of dating—when Seok-ho imagined the kid dating someone whose face he had never even seen—he felt a strange emotion.
And at that same moment, calling himself Kang-woo’s “guardian” had been a rather impulsive move.
At the time, Seok-ho needed a word that could define that inexplicable feeling. A suitable excuse to label the emotion that made his chest prickle and feel uneasy even just imagining it.
The cause of the discomfort Seok-ho had felt then had to be explained as nothing more than the appropriate affection one directs toward someone weaker and more fragile than oneself.
And so Seok-ho kept repeating it to himself.
That the reason Kim Kang-woo bothered him was only that. Because Kang-woo was still young and immature. Because he was at an age that required an adult’s protection, so of course he would worry about him.
However, Seok-ho was clearly aware that there was a side he could not deny.
Wanting to keep Kim Kang-woo by his side was purely his own selfish desire. Whenever he looked at the kid, Seok-ho sometimes felt an inexplicable thirst.
To be precise, it was sexual desire.
He had been through several long and short relationships before, yet this was a sensation he had never once felt in the past.
The tingling feeling beneath his throat would suddenly surface without warning. Because of it, Seok-ho often found his gaze lingering longer than usual on Kang-woo’s nape, lips, and slender hands.
Desire was much like instinct.
There had already been several occasions where he had barely managed to restrain it—barely preventing it from bursting out during the brief moments when the reason he had tightly bound slipped loose.
In truth, he had only realized these feelings not long ago, but they had begun much earlier than that.
Still, Seok-ho was no impulsive youth driven by urges.
He was an adult who possessed reason and moral awareness. He had held his center and believed he had maintained it well until now.
But he could no longer be certain he would continue to do so.
He felt the walls collapsing faster and faster. He knew he should keep an appropriate distance from Kim Kang-woo—for both Kang-woo’s sake and his own—and move away from him.
But it wasn’t as easy as it sounded.
Whenever Kang-woo flushed red at the casual jokes he carelessly tossed out before he could stop himself, something stirred deep within Seok-ho’s chest.
Feelings that made the effort of hiding behind the title of “guardian” seem utterly meaningless.
If he were to add one more pitiful excuse, part of the blame lay with the kid who reached out so easily and without hesitation.
Every innocent touch Kang-woo offered made Seok-ho greedy. Greedy to pull that thin hand toward him and trap it within his arms.
Even as he told himself he shouldn’t blame someone far younger than him now that he was an adult, it didn’t work very well.
Maybe it was because he hadn’t met many people these past few years. The innocent face that had asked him if he didn’t date anyone came to mind.
Did Kim Kang-woo even realize it?
That the person he asked such an innocent question was harboring such dark desires toward him.
His mind constantly stirred with impulses.
This isn’t right. He had to stop all this attention directed at Kim Kang-woo.
But sometimes emotion ran ahead of reason. Like right now.
Seok-ho, who had been sitting there for a long time with his brows furrowed in thought, finally picked up his phone and made a call.
The connection tone rang for a while before cutting off.
— Wow. Long time no see, Yoon Jeongwon.
A cheerful greeting came from the other side.
“Park Jeong-ho.”
It had already been fourteen years since he began living under the name Kwon Seok-ho.
Yet Jeong-ho still called him Yoon Jeongwon.
It didn’t seem like something he did consciously, so Seok-ho never bothered correcting him about it.
“There’s something I need you to look into.”
— It’s been a while since you asked me to handle something. What is it? Let’s hear it.
Jeong-ho spoke in an excited voice.
Seok-ho closed his eyes and tapped the table lightly with his fingertips.
“Look into someone named Kim Kang-woo. Third-year student at Ganghyeon High School. Dig up everything you can—include all the people around him too. Especially someone named Baek Kyung-wook.”
Seok-ho was certain that Kang-woo was hiding something from him.
Especially when the topic of Kwon Jung-yeon’s trait manifestation came up, something had felt strange.
Kim Kang-woo had tried to act as if nothing was wrong, but Seok-ho had clearly sensed his agitation at that moment.
— Okay. I’ll look into it.
The sound of a keyboard clacking came through the line for a while, as if Jeong-ho were writing down the information. Then he readily agreed.
Park Jeong-ho didn’t ask why Seok-ho was making such a request.
The things he did were usually like that.
Matters where pointless curiosity was forbidden. All he needed to do was investigate whatever the client asked. Even if it was a friend’s request, his principles didn’t change.
“How long will it take?”
— About ten days?
“Alright. I’ll call you again then.”
— Yeah. Oh, right.
As if something had suddenly occurred to him, Jeong-ho stopped him.
— You doing well?
Seok-ho let out a small laugh at the pointless question.
Asking something like that out of nowhere. But in a way, checking in at random moments like this was very much like him.
“Yeah. You?”
— Me? I’m doing fine. There’ve been lots of cheating bastards lately, so business is pretty good. Haha. Trash like that are the best customers for me.
Park Jeong-ho snickered from the other side.
He had a habit of turning the misfortunes of the world into dark humor. Seok-ho didn’t dislike that side of him.
— Anyway, glad to hear you’re doing well. I’ll hang up now.
“Okay.”
Despite having stopped him to talk, the call ended quickly.
That was simply the kind of relationship Park Jeong-ho and Kwon Seok-ho had. They contacted each other only when necessary, and greetings were brief.
An unspoken rule between them.
After ending the call, Seok-ho stared at the screen. During the short conversation that lasted less than five minutes, a text message had arrived.
[Seok-ho, are you really not coming back?]
He scanned the message with a dry gaze before placing the phone down on the table. In the quiet workshop, Seok-ho remained motionless for a long time.
***
Kang-woo lay curled sideways at the edge of the bed, pulling the blanket up to his neck.
[It’ll be late. Go to sleep first.]
He stared for a long time at the single text message from Seok-ho. There was no explanation of why he’d be late. Nor when he would return.
[Why are you late?]
Holding the phone where he had typed those five characters, Kang-woo hesitated for a long time.
He watched the blinking cursor, but in the end he couldn’t press send.
[Okay. Come home safely.]
He rewrote the message and sent it. But no reply came.
As he stared at the unread indicator that refused to disappear, the phone screen soon dimmed.
Crushed beneath a heavy feeling without resistance, Kang-woo blankly stared at the dark screen.
After finishing all the housework—as if it were an unavoidable condition for staying in Seok-ho’s home—Kang-woo spent the rest of his time doing nothing, waiting all day for night to come. For the time when Seok-ho would return from work.
But Seok-ho probably didn’t feel the same way. For him, it was simply returning home after finishing what he had to do. Whether Kang-woo was waiting at home or not likely didn’t matter much.
Whenever he found himself guessing at such differences in their feelings, a sudden sense of helplessness would creep in.
Was liking someone always like this?
Was unrequited love an endless process of weighing one’s own feelings against the other person’s—only to be disappointed again and again?
Clutching those brief glances and smiles directed at him as if they were something meant to last a lifetime.
Kang-woo took a deep breath in and let it out.
His body felt unbearably heavy, like it had been soaked in water. Whenever he stayed alone guarding the dark house, countless baseless thoughts slipped through the cracks.
If Seok-ho eventually got a lover.
He had said he wasn’t planning on dating anyone right now, but Kang-woo knew well that things in life could change unexpectedly. After all, he himself hadn’t planned to run away from home in the beginning either.
Thinking that far naturally brought his attention back to the photograph of the woman in the desk drawer.
What kind of person was she to Seok-ho?
He felt jealous of someone whose identity he didn’t even know. He felt ashamed of himself for harboring such petty, childish emotions.
But the body rarely obeyed the heart.
If feelings could simply appear and disappear whenever he wanted them to, then he never would have ended up carrying emotions that kept growing against his will.
It was already too late to slow the deepening of these feelings.
If that was the case, then he needed to create even more distance so that Seok-ho would never discover these impure thoughts.
From now on, I’ll just act appropriately close with hyung. Act appropriately spoiled, too.
With that resolution in mind, he blinked his eyes—and before he knew it, he had fallen asleep.
Kang-woo suddenly woke up. The house was still quiet.
He picked up his phone and checked the time. The numbers on the screen showed that it was already 3 a.m.
Did hyung come home?
Partly out of curiosity and partly because he was thirsty, he stepped out into the living room.
Before his gaze could even reach Seok-ho’s room, something else caught his eye. A figure was stretched out along the sofa.
Silencing his footsteps, Kang-woo slowly approached.
Seok-ho had curled his large frame tightly on the couch and fallen asleep. The sharp features he always had were accompanied by the smell of alcohol.
Did he meet a friend or something? How much had he drunk to fall asleep here?
“Hyung.”
Kang-woo called softly.
“Hyung, don’t sleep here. Go sleep in your room. You’ll catch a cold.”
Even when he shook his shoulder to wake him, Seok-ho showed no sign of opening his eyes.
In the end, Kang-woo gave up trying to wake him and went into Seok-ho’s room, returning with a blanket in his arms.
He carefully pulled the blanket up to Seok-ho’s neck and then crouched down in front of the sofa.
The last time he had seen him sleeping like this was when he had sung him a lullaby.
His gaze naturally drifted to the long eyelashes lining his closed eyes.
Seok-ho was the one who had been drinking, yet smelling the alcohol on him made Kang-woo feel strangely intoxicated as well.
Kang-woo carefully reached out his hand. His fingertips brushed against the lashes with a ticklish sensation. Even though he was touching his face, Seok-ho didn’t wake up.
“…Why did you suddenly drink so much?”
Kang-woo murmured quietly, resting his chin on his knees.
The sound of deep breathing filled the air. Seok-ho seemed completely asleep. It felt like he wouldn’t wake no matter what Kang-woo did.
Kang-woo’s actions grew bolder than before. His fingers slowly traced over Seok-ho’s thick brows and sharp nose bridge before stopping in front of his lips. The steady breath brushing against his fingertips made them tingle.
Kang-woo let out a trembling breath.
Seeing Seok-ho sleeping so peacefully made it hard to hold back the impulse.
Just a little. Would it really be so bad if it was just a brief touch?
Only hours ago he had resolved to keep his distance, yet now he found himself rationalizing.
Having made up his mind, Kang-woo braced one hand against the sofa, closed his eyes, and slowly lowered his head.
His lips lightly touched Seok-ho’s cheek. His skin was softer and warmer than expected. The closer he leaned, the stronger the scent of alcohol became—but it didn’t feel unpleasant.
Had he stayed there for about five seconds?
Thump, thump.
His heart pounded. As he slowly pulled back and lifted his closed eyelids—
He suddenly froze.
“Ah…”
A startled breath escaped his parted lips.
Black eyes—now open—were quietly staring straight at him.
It felt like being caught in the middle of stealing. No—what he had done might even be worse than stealing.
Secretly kissing someone while they slept could practically count as harassment.
His mind spun. But it was already too late. He had been caught red-handed—kissing the cheek of the very person who had been lying there asleep.
