He turned off the faucet. The clattering water came to a sudden stop, and silence settled over the kitchen. Ji Se-min blinked slowly, then even more sluggishly reached for the rag, wiping down the sink, the counter, and the stovetop until everything was in order.
It was only after he’d forced himself through the last of the cleaning that Se-min finally let out the deep sigh he’d been holding in.
“Haa…”
Why is it that just staring at running water always makes your thoughts spiral? He scratched his temple, asking a question he didn’t actually want the answer to.
Just as Cha-hyeon had predicted, Se-min’s head was a mess, overwhelmed with thoughts of his hyung, who had returned so suddenly. The conversation had gotten cut off when his hyung’s condition unexpectedly worsened, but…
So when he said he’d try… he meant he’d try to love me.
“Try…”
His mind had been thrown into chaos by a Conditional Reward that came out of nowhere. Unsolved questions kept piling up, and the unease sitting heavy on his chest made him want to claw at it until it finally went away.
Why is he doing all this? The hyung who hadn’t lost his memories couldn’t even accept him as a lover.
Come to think of it, saying he didn’t want to go back—didn’t that mean he hated that time? Se-min couldn’t quite tell what had happened to make his future hyung lose his mind, but the rough outline was clear enough. It had to be something like trauma, a painful memory, a mistake he wanted to undo…
Wearing a complicated expression, Se-min stepped out into the living room. Other than the sound of his slippers dragging across the floor, the place was dead silent—until he saw Cha-hyeon asleep on the couch.
Like Snow White, Cha-hyeon lay there with his fingers interlaced over his stomach, not making a sound. His eyes were shut peacefully, and his face looked more relaxed than it had ever been since he returned.
Se-min watched him quietly, then stepped closer on softened footsteps, careful not to wake him. He kept just enough distance between them—Cha-hyeon was fast asleep, and it felt wrong to disturb him.
This hyung, who had never once lost his memories. Who had lived through a future that, in Se-min’s world, hadn’t even happened.
Facing this version of his hyung brought an overwhelming tide of emotions. He was glad to see him, but not entirely. Happy, but not without reservation. He didn’t hate him—but it wasn’t this version that was his lover. His lover wouldn’t return until his Cha-hyeon did.
Ugh, I don’t know.
Se-min shook his head with a sigh, unable to untangle the knots in his chest. He wasn’t the kind of person who could force someone to go back to a future they clearly wanted to escape. And besides… this hyung was still Sung Cha-hyeon. Knowing that the man he loved had suffered in that future made it impossible to wish for things to repeat.
Swallowing down a rising sigh, Se-min stepped back. Naturally, his gaze drifted to Cha-hyeon’s wrist as he picked up the bouquet he’d received when Cha-hyeon proposed to him.
On Cha-hyeon’s left wrist, the watch Se-min had given him as a proposal gift glinted in the low light. And on the fourth finger of that same hand, nestled between interlocked fingers, the platinum ring gleamed as well.
Even in the dim room, with all the curtains drawn, the pair of rings and the watch glowed softly—a testament to the eternal love they had once sworn to each other.
No matter what was happening now, those silent symbols remained. And that only made Se-min’s heart ache more.
With downcast eyes, Se-min looked at the ring on his own finger and let out a long breath through his nose. Then, almost instinctively, he brought the bouquet up to his face, burying his nose in the fresh flowers. The vibrant scent seemed to soothe the mess in his chest, if only a little.
“Do we even have a vase…?”
He tried to steer his thoughts away from the turmoil in his head, but stopped short. Did they have one? Probably not. It’d be weird for a place shared by two men to have something like that lying around.
So much for the distraction.
He debated whether to place the bouquet back on the living room table but, afraid the noise might wake Cha-hyeon, he ended up moving it to the kitchen table instead. The rustling of the cellophane wrapping as it brushed the marble was the last sound before silence reclaimed the space.
“……”
Suddenly, Se-min felt utterly alone. A chill of loneliness crept in, and he found himself pouting slightly as he absentmindedly ran his fingers over the corner of the marble table.
When he was feeling down like this, there was always one person who came to mind. And this time, he didn’t even try to resist the urge. He whispered the name in a soft voice.
“…Cha-hyeon hyung.”
It was the same name, but Se-min was calling out to his hyung—the one who had been his lover. The one he might never see again if this version refused to return.
For a moment, it felt like something had been scooped out of his chest, leaving it hollow. As he rubbed his sternum, Se-min realized his mouth was turned down in a deep frown.
But he couldn’t even pretend to smile. Now that this Cha-hyeon had fallen asleep, all the raw, unfiltered pieces of his heart came pouring out.
What are we now? What kind of relationship do we even have?
This version of Cha-hyeon said he’d try to love him—but Se-min had already figured out the truth buried in that promise.
He wouldn’t act like he’d forgotten everything, obviously. But maybe, just maybe, since he still had the memories of their time as lovers, he wouldn’t see Se-min as just his kid brother anymore.
Would they start all over again? Build a romantic bond from the ground up? And if they did… could this hyung come to love him like that? He was still Sung Cha-hyeon, wasn’t he?
“…Feels like I’m cheating,” Se-min muttered dryly. Or maybe it was something like widow remarriage. He tacked on another absurd thought and let out a thin smile. But it wasn’t because it was actually funny.
“Haa…”
It felt like everything had reset. Like he was back in those days when he had a one-sided crush on Cha-hyeon, with that impossible line between them still firmly in place.
With a sigh, Se-min rubbed his face with both hands. Maybe because of the mess in his heart—or maybe because he just wanted to justify everything—a quiet voice in the back of his mind began whispering empty rationalizations.
Even if we can’t go back to how things were… I mean, I saw it coming. This just happened a little sooner than expected, that’s all.
Even if Cha-hyeon wasn’t his fiancé anymore, he was still the hyung Se-min loved. His family. His protector. Sure, the fact that they’d been on the verge of marriage made it feel like something precious had been ripped away, but… maybe it was for the best. If they’d actually gotten married and then this happened, things would’ve been even more painful.
That was exactly why Se-min had once thought of their future marriage as a kind of shield. That if Cha-hyeon’s memories came back after they were already married, he wouldn’t be able to undo it. And now, he repurposed that selfish little shield—twisting it into a way to justify Cha-hyeon’s current state.
“God…”
Se-min let out a short, bitter laugh, his gaze unfocused.
Am I really this pitiful? This passive in my own relationship?
But defending Cha-hyeon… that was something instinctual. Even if others didn’t think highly of him, he’d always been kind to Se-min. Maybe it was because of the age gap. Or maybe because Se-min had always acted like the stereotypical dongsaeng—dutiful, accommodating, never demanding.
Could I ever date him as an equal? Be in a relationship where I actually have power?
His thoughts spiraled into daydreams that didn’t pass through any filters, like he was escaping from reality.
But that, too, passed quickly. The fantasies faded, and nothing in reality had changed.
Se-min glanced toward the couch where his hyung still slept. From behind the dining table, all he could see was the tip of Cha-hyeon’s foot, sticking out past the armrest.
Staring at it blankly, he muttered to himself.
“…Maybe I should just sleep too.”
Saying it out loud brought an overwhelming sense of fatigue crashing down on him. After all… they had been pretty intense last night, and things had been nonstop since morning. He hadn’t even noticed how hungry he was.
No matter how much he thought it over, nothing was going to change. And waking Cha-hyeon now felt pointless. Since he was already asleep, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to rest his own eyes for a bit too.
Maybe it was just another form of running away… but whatever. He’d figure everything out after he slept. Just thinking that made his eyes feel heavier.
With a soft yawn, Se-min turned toward Cha-hyeon’s room—but stopped in his tracks. His gaze drifted back to the man sleeping on the couch. Would his future hyung feel weird if Se-min was in his bed?
Watching him sleep so soundly, even with a faint smile on his face, Se-min quietly changed direction. Careful not to make a sound, he tiptoed toward his own room.
On the balls of his feet, he crept toward the room nearest the front door. He eased the door open as silently as possible, worried that even the slightest noise might wake Cha-hyeon’s hypersensitive, S-rank senses.
Inside, the room was pitch dark—the blackout curtains made sure of that. Se-min considered turning on the light, then decided against it. Leaving the door slightly ajar would let in just enough light to see.
Using that faint glow, he stumbled toward the bed and flopped onto it face-first. Ever since he’d started dating Cha-hyeon, he hadn’t used this bed much. Maybe that’s why it felt so cold tonight. The chill hit harder than usual, and Se-min didn’t bother suppressing the sigh that slipped out again.
“So tired…”
I hope… by the time I wake up, my feelings, this mess, all of it— I hope it’s a little clearer.
As if fleeing from the world, Se-min shut his eyes tight.
***
Cha-hyeon woke up.
