His cheeks were damp.
Shin-jae suddenly realized he was crying. He was in someone’s arms. The fabric pressing against his cheek was soft, and the hand stroking his back was gentle.
Then, memories started to resurface, one by one.
His father, who had informed him of his remarriage alongside the divorce before leaving. His mother, who hadn’t even bothered to attend. Moments like these always made Shin-jae feel like an uninvited guest in this world.
How long had he been sitting alone at the empty dining table? Suddenly, he couldn’t bear it anymore. He pushed back his chair and left, walking aimlessly.
By the time he came to his senses, he was sitting on a park bench. The sound of children chattering and playing filled the modest playground nearby. He couldn’t bring himself to return to that empty house.
As time passed, raindrops began to fall, one by one. Parents holding umbrellas started arriving at the park. The moment they spotted their children, the kids would let out delighted giggles, grab their guardians’ hands, and leave. Shin-jae watched their retreating figures in silence.
Eventually, the playground emptied, leaving only the sound of rain hitting the ground. Even as the downpour soaked him, he didn’t think to move. He just sat there, motionless—despite knowing that no one would come to shield him with an umbrella.
And yet…
“Where do you live?”
Why?
Why was this person here?
“Shin-jae, let’s go home.”
Shin-jae stared blankly at the outstretched hand before him. Let’s go home. The words that parents said when picking up their children—Sa-yoon was saying them to him.
At last, Shin-jae took Sa-yoon’s hand.
Maybe it was because his body temperature had dropped from being in the rain for so long, but the faint warmth from Sa-yoon’s touch made him feel like crying all over again.
He didn’t know how long he had stood under the shower. Suddenly, Shin-jae realized too much time had passed.
What if… what if he had left without him?
Panicked, he hurriedly turned off the water and rushed out. He wrapped his robe around himself haphazardly and descended the stairs, anxiety tightening around his chest.
What if, when he reached the bottom, the house was empty?
What if he had been left behind again?
His disordered thoughts tangled into a chaotic mess.
Thump. Thump.
His heart pounded with anxious intensity. With each step down, it felt like the ground was rushing up to meet him. But despite the unease clawing at him, he couldn’t stop. Clutching the stair railing, he all but tumbled down in his urgency.
The living room was silent.
Panic flared, swelling to an unbearable size in mere seconds. Half out of his mind, Shin-jae crossed the empty space in a daze, his breath coming too fast.
He was about to step onto the terrace.
He didn’t think about the rain pouring outside, nor the fact that he was barefoot, nor that he was still in nothing but a bathrobe, having barely dried off. None of it mattered.
And then—
A sound. Barely even noise. The faintest creak of a cupboard door being opened.
Immediately, his steps veered toward the kitchen.
His bare feet met the cold marble floor with every step, the chill seeping in and stealing what little warmth he had left. He was still damp from the rain and the shower, his body shivering from the cold, but his mind was too preoccupied to notice.
And when he stepped into the kitchen—
There he was.
Sa-yoon.
His sharp, fox-like eyes widened slightly in surprise, giving him an almost prey-like look. The thought flashed through Shin-jae’s mind for a brief second before vanishing.
The moment he confirmed Sa-yoon hadn’t left, a dizzy spell overtook him, making him instinctively reach out. His hand caught onto the nearest pillar, and he paused, trying to steady his breath. Sa-yoon stepped toward him.
“I thought… you had left me too.”
Shin-jae didn’t catch whatever Sa-yoon’s response was.
By the time he regained awareness, he was already enveloped in Sa-yoon’s arms. His smaller frame was practically crumpled into the embrace, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.
The warmth pressing against him soothed the wild hammering of his heart, the anxiety that had clawed at his ribs finally easing. Shin-jae let his eyes drift shut, his lips parting slightly as words began to spill out of him.
It was as if someone had cast a spell on him.
Even after his voice fell silent, the gentle strokes on his back didn’t stop.
Ah.
Shin-jae buried his face into Sa-yoon’s shoulder. His damp tears soaked into the soft fabric of the robe. He had emptied himself, laid everything bare—and yet, strangely, he felt full.
The light pats on his back gradually changed, turning into slow, languid strokes. His lips felt oddly dry, and he lifted his head slightly.
“Are you okay?”
The face looking down at him seemed even sharper than usual. Maybe it was the way his eyes, slightly upturned at the corners, now had a piercing intensity as he gazed down. It wasn’t exactly a friendly expression—Sa-yoon had mentioned before that he’d been misunderstood plenty of times because of his looks.
And yet—
Shin-jae suddenly realized how fundamentally different they were. Sa-yoon was someone he could never be—a person full of warmth and quiet kindness.
Before he knew it, his fingers had tightened around Sa-yoon’s arm.
“Shin-jae?”
His lips parted, his voice just as gentle as ever. When Shin-jae lifted his gaze slightly, he saw himself reflected in those sharp, dark eyes.
He didn’t answer.
Sa-yoon didn’t press him for one.
The two of them simply stood there, gazes locked, not even blinking.
At some point, the tips of their noses brushed.
He couldn’t remember who had closed their eyes first.
But what he did know—
Was that it was Sa-yoon who pressed their lips together first.
“……”
The sensation of lips pressing together was something Shin-jae had never once imagined.
Tilting his head slightly, he rubbed his lips against Sa-yoon’s, trying to follow his lead.
But despite his eagerness, Shin-jae was nothing more than a clueless rookie with no real experience. He simply crashed forward, lips moving clumsily, pressing and rubbing but doing little else. A low chuckle rumbled from Sa-yoon’s throat.
It was just a laugh—simple, quiet—but its meaning was painfully clear. Shin-jae wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear.
I should’ve practiced… or at least studied beforehand.
As he froze, his hand still gripping Sa-yoon’s arm, the other man gently took hold of it, guiding it to cup his cheek. Shin-jae’s fingertips brushed against the soft curve of his earlobe. Mesmerized, he hesitated for a second before instinctively playing with it. It felt soft—almost like jelly.
While he absentmindedly toyed with Sa-yoon’s ear, a hand trailed down his back, gliding smoothly. Then, pressing firmly against his spine, the touch slowly worked its way up.
Just as his focus shifted to that, something warm and wet dragged across his lips.
This—this was different from before.
Shin-jae’s eyes widened in surprise, and through his blurry vision, he saw Sa-yoon’s lips curve into a smirk.
A tongue flicked against his lips, teasing, before softly sucking at his lower lip, nibbling it between slow, deliberate bites. A muffled sound slipped from Shin-jae’s throat at the sensation.
A light, almost playful knocking—Sa-yoon’s tongue tapping against his lips. When Shin-jae hesitantly parted them, a hand slid down to pat the small of his back, like he was being praised.
The realization burned hot at the tips of his ears—he was being treated like some clueless kid.
But before he could dwell on it, Sa-yoon’s tongue slipped inside. It brushed against Shin-jae’s, coaxing, then teasingly tracing along the inside of his cheek, lightly skimming across the roof of his mouth.
So this is how you do it.
Understanding clicked into place, and Shin-jae pressed forward, tentatively pushing his own tongue into Sa-yoon’s mouth.
The shift must have caught Sa-yoon off guard—his grip tightened around Shin-jae’s arm as their mouths melded together.
As their tongues tangled, warmth passed between them—heated breath, slick saliva.
Normally, Shin-jae hated the thought of sharing someone else’s spit. He wouldn’t even touch food that had been in someone’s mouth. But right now, the idea of it being unsanitary didn’t even cross his mind.
All he wanted was to keep moving against him, tasting, feeling—
The thin fabric of the robe had come undone at some point, leaving their bare skin brushing against each other. Sa-yoon’s freshly showered body smelled like the same body wash Shin-jae had used, the scent somehow making his body burn even hotter.
Like a man dying of thirst, Shin-jae clung desperately to Sa-yoon’s lips. Even if Sa-yoon were ocean water, he would drink him in until he drowned.
“You’re gonna break my back at this rate.”
Sa-yoon’s voice, laced with laughter, snapped Shin-jae back to reality. Lifting his head slightly, he realized that Sa-yoon had been pushed all the way against the kitchen island.
From the cupboard to here—he had been forcing him back without even realizing it.
Sa-yoon reached up, brushing damp strands of hair from Shin-jae’s forehead before effortlessly hoisting himself onto the island countertop. Then, slowly, he leaned back.
“…Ugh.”
His brows furrowed as his bare skin met the cold marble.
Shin-jae stared in fascination. Sa-yoon’s usually pale cheeks were flushed pink.
Unable to resist, he reached out and pressed his fingers to them—soft, plush, yielding. The sensation was so foreign, so unexpectedly delightful.
Can human skin even feel like this?
The moment Sa-yoon smiled and loosened the belt of his robe, every lingering question in Shin-jae’s mind vanished.
Sa-yoon’s breath, the subtle movements of his hands, the way his gaze darkened—everything about him was unbearably intoxicating.
“Shin-jae.”
He called his name, arms outstretched as if granting permission. That was all it took.
Shin-jae lunged forward, pressing his lips to the pale column of Sa-yoon’s throat.
Instinct whispered to him—lower.
“Sunbae, you have… a mole here.”
Just beside his nipple, the same size as the one beneath his eye.
“Ah!”
The moment Shin-jae dragged his fingernail across it, Sa-yoon’s body jolted, his back arching involuntarily.
The sound was a spark to dry tinder.
Shin-jae latched onto his chest, lips closing around the small, raised flesh. He sucked deeply, his tongue teasing the sensitive spot. Above him, Sa-yoon let out a sharp breath, his voice breaking into a quiet moan.
“Good boy…”
The words didn’t fit the situation at all.
And yet—
The moment he heard them, something clicked into place.
The strange sense of familiarity that had been nagging at him all this time finally took shape.
