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Younghoon had always been truthful, not because he chose to be, but because lying wasn’t something he was capable of. However, there were two secrets he had kept buried deep inside—his love for his childhood friend and his burning desire to kill the man who had gotten Hyunjae pregnant and then disappeared. These hidden truths haunted him, making him regret the choices he’d made in the past. In another life, he could have boldly confessed his love to Hyunjae, and today’s wedding would have been a joyous occasion for both of them.
“You should’ve refused when your mom suggested marrying me,” Hyunjae murmured softly as they drove home.
“It’s too late for that. I already agreed, and honestly, marrying you isn’t so bad. Plus, your kid deserves to have both parents, not just in name, but as real figures in their life.”
“Still, it feels like I’ve trapped you. You shouldn’t have to marry me or take responsibility for something that has nothing to do with you.”
“Come on, Je. What’s done is done, and I really don’t mind. Your issues are mine now. Can we drop this? I’m exhausted from all the handshakes, and I really don’t want to argue anymore,” Younghoon replied, closing his eyes, silently hoping Hyunjae would stop believing that their marriage was a burden to him.
The car rolled to a gentle stop in front of the house. Hyunjae’s hands stayed glued to his lap, fingers nervously twisting the hem of his tuxedo. The silence inside the car felt heavier than before, but he wasn’t ready to move, and neither, it seemed, was Younghoon. For a moment, they just sat there, the quiet humming of the engine the only sound between them. Hyunjae stared out the window at the dimly lit house—their house, now. It still didn’t feel real. It was like he was watching someone else’s life unfold from the outside, too detached to claim any part of it.
Younghoon finally shifted beside him, unbuckling his seatbelt with a soft click. “We should go inside,” he said, his voice steady but low.
Hyunjae didn’t respond. He knew younghoon was tired, that this day had been long for both of them, but something kept him rooted in place. Maybe it was the weight of everything left unsaid—the things they both knew but never fully addressed.
“Younghoon,” hyunjae said quietly, still not looking at him. “You didn’t have to do this.”
Hyunjae felt younghoon turn toward him, his presence steady but unintrusive, as always. He didn’t rush to respond, and hyunjae was grateful for that.
“I know,” he said after a long pause. “But I chose to.”
“I just... I don’t want you to regret this,” hyunjae whispered, his voice barely above a breath.
Younghoon leaned back slightly, resting his head against the car seat. “I don’t regret it.”
“You say that now.” Hyunjae’s eyes flickered toward the dashboard, the soft glow illuminating the tiny space between them. “But what if, one day, you realize this was a mistake?”
Younghoon’s response was quiet, thoughtful. “If that day comes, we’ll face it then. But it hasn’t, and I don’t think it will.”
Hyunjae couldn’t help but shake his head. “How can you be so sure? This isn’t just about us. There’s the baby—there’s your future, your whole life. You’ve always had plans, goals. And now... you’re stuck.”
Younghoon didn’t flinch. He let hyunjae words hang in the air, like they deserved their own moment to exist. “I’m not stuck,” he said softly, his tone more tender than hyunjae expected. “I’m choosing to be here, with you, because it’s where I want to be.”
Hyunjae’s chest tightened. He wanted to believe him—desperately—but he’d been through too much, seen too many broken promises, to accept younghoon’s words at face value.
“I don’t need you to save me,” hyunjae said after a long stretch of silence. “You don’t have to do this out of obligation.”
Younghoon shifted in his seat, finally turning to face hyunjae fully. “I’m not saving you, Je. And this isn’t about obligation.” His eyes searched him, steady and unwavering. “I’m here because I care about you. And because I care about your kid. That’s enough for me right now.”
“What if it’s not enough?” hyunjae asked, his voice breaking slightly. “What if we’re never what we’re supposed to be?”
Younghoon’s gaze softened, but he didn’t reach for hyunjae’s. He stayed where he was, close enough to offer support but distant enough to let hyunjae decide if he wanted it.
“We don’t have to know all the answers right now,” he said gently. “We just have to try.”
Hyunjae glanced over at Younghoon again, taking in the quiet determination in his eyes. There was no rush in him, no urgency to force things into place. Just patience. The kind of patience that made him think maybe this slow burn between them could last, if he let it.
“Alright,” hyunjae said softly, finally unbuckling his seatbelt. “Let’s try.”
Younghoon didn’t say anything. He just smiled—a small, barely-there smile—but it was enough. They stepped out of the car and into the quiet night, the distance between them narrowing ever so slightly, though neither of them noticed it yet. As they stepped into the house, the soft click of the door closing behind them echoed in the quiet space. The house felt strange—barely lived in, despite being their new home. Boxes still cluttered the corners, evidence of a life they hadn’t yet fully unpacked.
Hyunjae stood at the entrance, his hand resting lightly on the doorknob. He could feel Younghoon moving behind him, his footsteps soft as he made his way toward the kitchen. Younghoon was always so quiet, so composed, like he had everything under control. Meanwhile, hyunjae’s mind raced with a thousand thoughts, none of them comforting.
“You hungry?” Younghoon called from the kitchen, his voice calm, as if this were any other evening.He hesitated before answering. His stomach had been rumbling for the last hour, a mix of hunger and the strange cravings that came with the pregnancy. He wanted something—anything—to eat, but the words caught in her throat.
“No, I’m fine,” hyunjae lied, his voice just loud enough to reach younghoon.
Younghoon didn’t push, and part of hyunjae was relieved, though another part of him, the part that ached for more, wished he’d call his bluff. Hyunjae hated the way younghoon made it so easy to pretend everything was okay when he knew it wasn’t. Younghoon should’ve known by now—should’ve noticed how much he was struggling. But younghoon didn’t push, didn’t ask, and hyunjae was too proud to tell him.
Hyunjae wandered into the living room, sinking onto the couch. His hands instinctively rested on his belly, a soft reminder of the life growing inside him. The baby kicked, a gentle nudge that made his heart twist with guilt. What kind of father was he going to be, if he couldn’t even be honest with himself, let alone with Younghoon?
The cravings were worse tonight. Hyunjae could almost taste the chicken he’d been craving for days, the kind from his favorite restaurant back in the city. But he wasn’t about to ask Younghoon for it. Hyunjae couldn’t. The idea of younghoon running out late at night, doing even more for him, made his stomach churn—not just from the pregnancy, but from the shame he couldn’t shake. Younghoon had already done too much. Marrying him. Taking responsibility for a child that wasn’t his. Every time hyunjae thought about it, it only solidified the idea in his mind: Younghoon was trapped, no matter what he said.
“Want anything?” Younghoon’s voice broke through his thoughts, and he looked up to see younghoon standing in the doorway, holding a glass of water. Younghoon wasn’t pushing him, wasn’t hovering—but he was there, waiting for hyunjae’s answer.
Hyunjae shook his head, forcing a smile. “I’m fine, really.”
He nodded and sat down beside him, stretching his long legs out in front of him. They sat in silence for a few moments, the weight of the unspoken tension settling between them. The TV was off, the house still too quiet for his liking.
Hyunjae tried to focus on anything but the gnawing hunger in his belly, but it was hard to ignore the sharp pangs that came and went. Hyunjae could have just asked him—Younghoon, who would probably leave in a heartbeat to get him what hyunjae wanted. He’d never complained once since they’d married. He was always there, always dependable, always ready to help. And that only made it worse. Because no matter how much younghoon reassured him, hyunjae couldn’t shake the feeling that he was doing this out of obligation, out of some misplaced sense of duty. Maybe he didn’t realize it yet, but one day he would. One day he’d wake up and resent hyunjae for pulling him into this mess, for tying him to a child that wasn’t his, for trapping him in a life he never wanted. Hyunjae couldn’t let that happen.
“I’m going to bed,” hyunjae mumbled suddenly, standing up and avoiding his gaze. Younghoon blinked, caught off guard by hyunjae’s abruptness, but he didn’t say anything. He only nodded, watching as he shuffled toward the bedroom without another word. As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, Hyunjae leaned against it, pressing his hands to his face. The craving had worsened, the ache in his chest growing alongside the hunger gnawing at his stomach. Hyunjae sank onto the bed, curling up, willing himself to sleep instead of focusing on the fire in his belly that begged to be fed. But sleep didn’t come. Instead, his thoughts spiraled.
The longer hyunjae lay there, the more hyunjae felt it—the chasm growing between him and Younghoon. Every time hyunjae denied himself younghoon’s help, every time he held back the truth, he dug himself deeper into this pit of isolation. Hyunjae could feel it happening, but he didn’t know how to stop it. Younghoon was so kind. Too kind. And hyunjae was the one who had trapped him here. A scumbag who had dragged him into a marriage neither of them wanted, all because he had been too weak to face his own mess. Hyunjae’s stomach growled again, loud and insistent this time. He pressed his hands against it, trying to soothe the discomfort, but it was no use.
Just ask younghoon, a small voice inside him whispered. Just ask him to get you what you need.
But hyunjae couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Because if hyunjae asked, he would be admitting, once again, that he needed younghoon. And that was the last thing hyunjae wanted to do. Instead, hyunjae lay there in the dark, his eyes squeezed shut, fighting against the ache that only seemed to grow stronger with each passing minute.
In the quiet house, Younghoon remained in the living room, staring blankly at the walls, unaware of the battle Hyunjae was waging with himself behind the bedroom door. The hours crawled by, and the quiet of the house weighed heavily on Hyunjae. Hyunjae lay still in bed, staring up at the ceiling, the persistent hunger gnawing at his insides. His body screamed for relief, but hyunjae’s pride kept him silent. The craving was unbearable now—crispy fried chicken—and it consumed hyunjae’s every thought, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask Younghoon for help. It felt like giving in. Like asking for more than hyunjae already had the right to.
Hyunjae squeezed his eyes shut, trying to focus on his breathing, willing the waves of discomfort to pass. But they didn’t. Instead, the hunger deepened, turning into a tight knot in his stomach. A sharp pain followed, a twisting ache that made hyunjae wince.
It’s just the stress, he told himself. It’s nothing. It’ll pass.
But it didn’t.
Over the next few days, hyunjae’s cravings worsened. Every bite of food felt unsatisfying, bland in comparison to what he really wanted. Hyunjae started skipping meals, his appetite turning erratic as the stress of keeping everything inside built up. Younghoon noticed—he always did—but hyunjae brushed him off with weak smiles and excuses.
“You need to eat more,” he said one evening, watching as hyunjae barely touched the food he had prepared. His voice was calm, as always, but there was a hint of worry beneath his words. “You’re eating for two now.”
Hyunjae bit his lip, staring down at the plate in front of him. The smell of the soup made hyunjae nauseous, though it had nothing to do with the food itself. The weight of his own guilt sat heavy in his stomach, taking up all the space where hunger should’ve been.
“I’m fine,” he mumbled, pushing the food around his plate. “I’ll eat later.”
Younghoon didn’t push, but his eyes lingered on hyunjae for a moment longer than usual. Hyunjae could feel his concern, even though he didn’t say anything. It was that silent worry that made him feel worse. Hyunjae wanted to tell him the truth—to admit that he was craving something else, something he couldn’t provide without running out in the middle of the night to hunt down some restaurant—but the words stuck in his throat.
That night, hyunjae lay in bed again, the hunger sharp and insistent, turning into something far more painful than before. He curled up on his side, clutching his stomach as the cramps began to intensify.
It’s just the pregnancy, hyunjae told himself again, over and over. It’s normal to feel uncomfortable. It’s normal to feel pain.
But this wasn’t normal. Deep down, hyunjae knew it.
The hours dragged on, and the pain grew sharper, more relentless. A cold sweat broke out on hyunjae’s forehead, and he bit down on his lip to stop him from crying out. His body was betraying him, and no matter how much hyunjae tried to ignore it, the stress was taking its toll.
Finally, as the pain became unbearable, hyunjae stumbled out of bed, his vision swimming as hyunjae made his way to the bathroom. His heart raced, pounding loudly in his ears, and his hands shook as hyunjae gripped the counter for support. And then, it happened.
The pain spiked sharply, and a rush of blood followed. The sight of it, bright red against the pale bathroom tiles, sent a wave of terror crashing over him. Hyunjae doubled over, gasping, the realization hitting him like a punch to the gut.
“No, no, no...” he whispered, his voice barely audible as panic set in. His hands instinctively went to his belly, but the damage was done.
His baby.
In the blink of an eye, everything he had been holding onto, all his worries and fears, collapsed into this single moment of horror. Hyunjae couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. All he could do was stare at the blood, his mind spinning with the worst thoughts imaginable.
“Hyunjae?” Younghoon’s voice suddenly called out from the hallway, and hyunjae heard his footsteps approaching. Hyunjae couldn’t answer. His throat had closed up, and his vision blurred with tears he hadn’t even realized were falling. When Younghoon appeared in the doorway, his expression changed in an instant. His eyes widened with alarm as he took in the scene in front of him—the blood, the way Hyunjae was trembling, his pale face. Without saying a word, he was by hyunjae side, his arms reaching out to steady him.
“What happened?” His voice was urgent now, panic lacing his words. “Hyunjae, what—”
“I... I don’t know,” hyunjae choked out, barely able to form the words. “Something’s wrong. I think... I think I lost the baby.”
Younghoon froze, the gravity of hyunjae words sinking in. For a brief moment, neither of them moved. The weight of what was happening, of what they were about to lose, hung thick in the air between them.
“Stay here,” he said, his voice steadier than before, though hyunjae could hear the tremble beneath his calm facade. “I’m calling an ambulance.”
Hyunjae couldn’t respond. He sank to the floor, his body wracked with silent sobs. The pain was unbearable—not just the physical pain, but the crushing guilt that pressed down on his chest. He had been so stressed, so focused on everything he thought he was doing wrong, and now...
This was his fault.
As Younghoon hurried to make the call, his voice urgent in the background, Hyunjae curled in on himself, his hands still resting protectively over his belly, as if he could somehow turn back time.But it was too late. The pain, the blood, the cold emptiness inside him—it was all too real now. And all hyunjae could do was wait for the inevitable, the guilt gnawing at him, whispering cruel words in hyunjae’s mind.
He had failed.
The next few days passed in a haze of grief and silence. Hyunjae remained confined to the bedroom, too emotionally drained to face the world outside. The miscarriage had left him feeling hollow, the weight of his guilt so heavy it was suffocating. Hyunjae hadn’t cried much since that night, but the ache inside his chest never seemed to go away.
Younghoon was always there, hovering just outside his reach. He never pushed, never asked too much of him. He brought hyunjae’s meals, which mostly went untouched. He tried to talk to him, but he barely responded. All younghoon got in return were half-hearted nods or a forced smile that never reached hyunjae’s eyes. But he stayed. He always stayed.
Late one evening, as the soft glow of the setting sun filtered through the curtains, Younghoon entered the room again. He paused in the doorway, his eyes scanning Hyunjae’s figure curled up beneath the blankets. Hyunjae looked so small, so fragile, and it tore him apart to see him like this. He had done everything he could think of—given hyunjae space, offered quiet comfort—but nothing seemed to reach him.
“Hyunjae,” he said softly, approaching the bed. “Can we talk?”
Hyunjae didn’t respond at first. His back was to him, and he wasn’t sure if hyunjae was even listening. But after a long pause, hyunjae sighed and shifted slightly, just enough to let him know he had heard.
“I know you’re hurting,” Younghoon continued, sitting down at the edge of the bed, careful not to touch hyunjae unless he wanted it. “I know this is hard. But you’re not alone in this. You don’t have to go through it alone.”
Hyunjae’s throat tightened. Hyunjae knew younghoon meant well—he always did—but he couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling inside him that he should be alone in this. That hyunjae deserved to be. Everything that had happened felt like his fault. The miscarriage, the stress, his inability to let himself lean on younghoon. Hyunjae had pushed him away, again and again, and now this was the consequence.
“I’m sorry for everything.”
Younghoon’s brow furrowed. “What are you sorry for?” he asked, his voice soft but firm.
“For trapping you,” he said, his voice thick with unshed tears. “For... for all of this. I never wanted you to be stuck with me. And now... now you’re stuck with someone who can’t even—” hyunjae choked on the words, unable to finish the sentence.
Younghoon’s heart broke a little more with every word hyunjae spoke. He had known, deep down, that hyunjae felt this way, but hearing him say it aloud cut deeper than he expected. He reached out, placing a hand gently on hyunjae’s shoulder, but he flinched away, pulling the blankets tighter around himself.
“Hyunjae, you didn’t trap me,” he said, his voice steady even though his frustration was building. “I chose to be here. I chose to marry you because I wanted to, not because I had to.”
“You say that now,” he whispered, echoing the same words hyunjae had said that night in the car. “But you’ll regret it one day. You’ll wake up and realize this isn’t the life you wanted. And then what?”
“I won’t regret it,” he said firmly, his frustration breaking through the surface. “I won’t wake up one day and decide that you or this baby—or even what we could have been—was a mistake. How many times do I have to say it before you believe me?”
Hyunjae remained silent, and Younghoon clenched his fists, trying to keep his voice calm. He didn’t want to be angry, but hyunjae’s stubbornness was pushing him to the edge. He loved him—more than he ever thought possible—but it felt like no matter how much he gave, hyunjae wouldn’t let himself accept it.
“I know you don’t believe me,” he continued, his voice quieter now. “I know you think I’m going to leave you. But I’m not. I’m right here. I’ve been here this whole time, and I’m not going anywhere.”
Hyunjae buried his face in the pillow, trying to muffle the sob that escaped his lips. Hyunjae hated that younghoon was right. Hyunjae hated that younghoon was still here, still offering him everything he thought he didn’t deserve. It made him feel even guiltier for pushing him away, for doubting him.
“I don’t deserve you,” hyunjae said, his voice cracking. “I never did.”
Younghoon’s heart ached at hyunjae’s words, but he didn’t let it show. He reached out again, this time more insistent, and gently turned hyunjae so he was facing him. Hyunjae’s face was streaked with tears, his eyes red from crying, but hyunjae didn’t pull away.
“You deserve love, Hyunjae,” he said softly, his thumb brushing away a tear from his cheek. “You deserve someone who cares about you, who wants to be there for you. And I want to be that person, if you’ll let me.”
He stared up at him, his chest tight with emotion. Hyunjae wanted to believe him—wanted to believe that younghoon truly loved him, despite everything. But part of him still couldn’t let go of the fear that he’d eventually grow tired of him, that he’d realize he was wasting his time on someone broken.
“I don’t want to keep hurting you,” hyunjae whispered. “I’m not good at... at this. I don’t know how to accept what you’re giving me.”
Younghoon sighed, his frustration fading into something softer, more patient. He leaned closer, resting his forehead gently against hyunjae, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know you don’t,” he said. “But I’m not asking you to be perfect. I’m just asking you to try. To let me in.”
Hyunjae closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of younghoon’s breath against his skin, the steady beat of his heart as he stayed close. It was overwhelming—the way he was so sure of him, of them, when he couldn’t even be sure of himself. But maybe that’s what hyunjae needed. Maybe, despite everything, hyunjae needed to trust in the love he thought he didn’t deserve.
“I’m scared,” hyunjae admitted, his voice trembling. “I don’t want to lose you.”
“You won’t,” Younghoon promised. “I’m not going anywhere.”
His words hung in the air, a quiet vow, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Hyunjae allowed himself to believe it, just a little. Hyunjae didn’t know how to be the kind of lover Younghoon deserved, didn’t know how to stop the cycle of self-doubt and guilt that plagued him, but maybe—just maybe—Hyunjae could start by letting him stay.
Hyunjae let out a shaky breath, his body still tense, but hyunjae didn’t pull away from younghoon this time. Slowly, tentatively, he leaned into younghoon’s touch, resting his head against younghoon’s chest. His arms wrapped around him, holding him close, and for the first time since everything had fallen apart, hyunjae allowed himself to feel the safety of younghoon’s embrace.
“I’ll try,” hyunjae whispered. “I’ll try to let you in.”
Younghoon’s grip on hyunjae tightened, a quiet reassurance that he was there, that he wasn’t going to let hyunjae fall.
“That’s all I ask,” he said softly.
And in the quiet of their shared space, for the first time in a long while, Hyunjae let himself lean into the love hyunjae had always been too afraid to accept. The following days were slow, but Younghoon’s presence never wavered. He remained at Hyunjae’s side, offering him the quiet comfort he didn’t realize he needed. Younghoon didn’t overwhelm him with words or grand gestures. Instead, it was the small things—things that Hyunjae might have overlooked before but now noticed in their quiet simplicity.
He made sure hyunjae’s favorite blanket was always within reach when hyunjae needed warmth. He brewed the tea that soothed him, never asking if he wanted it, just knowing when he did. When hyunjae woke in the middle of the night, restless and on the edge of tears, he was there, his hand resting gently on hyunjae’s back, offering silent reassurance. And then there were moments when he’d hum softly, his voice steady and calming, as if trying to fill the silence that weighed so heavily between them. It wasn’t perfect—it wasn’t some grand declaration of love—but it was steady, patient, and real. His love for hyunjae was constant, whether he acknowledged it or not.
One evening, after days of the same routine, Hyunjae found himself watching Younghoon as he moved quietly around the room, tidying up. There was a calmness in the way he went about it, as if this was his place, his role, to take care of him. And for the first time, Hyunjae didn’t feel the usual resistance that built inside him when younghoon did these things. Instead, there was something different—something softer. Hyunjae noticed the way younghoon’s brow furrowed slightly in concentration as he worked, the faint smile that tugged at his lips when he saw hyunjae watching him. Younghoon was always so composed, so unwavering, but there was something so pure in the way he cared for him. It wasn’t obligation. It wasn’t duty. It was love, deep and selfless, and hyunjae could feel it in every small action he took.
“Why do you do this?” Hyunjae’s voice was quiet, breaking the silence.
Younghoon turned to hyunjae, his eyes softening. “Do what?”
“Take care of me like this,” he said, his gaze drifting down to his hands. “Even when I push you away. Even when I don’t give anything back.”
Younghoon crossed the room and sat beside hyunjae on the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. “Because I love you,” younghoon said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Hyunjae swallowed hard, the familiar knot of guilt tightening in his chest. “But I’ve been... difficult. I’ve hurt you. I haven’t—”
“You think I don’t know that?” Younghoon interrupted gently, his voice steady. “I know you’ve been pushing me away. I know you’re scared, and I know you don’t think you deserve this, but that doesn’t change how I feel. You don’t have to be perfect for me to love you.”
Younghoon’s words hit him like a wave, washing over the walls he had built around his heart. He had been so consumed by his own guilt, so convinced that he didn’t deserve the kind of love younghoon was offering, that hyunjae had forgotten one simple truth: Younghoon had chosen to love him, and that choice wasn’t conditional.
“I just want you to let me in,” he continued, his voice soft but firm. “I’m not asking for anything more than that. I just want you to trust me enough to let me love you the way you deserve to be loved.”
Hyunjae’s eyes welled with tears. Hyunjae had spent so long believing that he was unworthy of this kind of love, but here he was, offering it to him without hesitation, without asking for anything in return. And in that moment, hyunjae realized how selfish he had been—not for wanting younghoon to love him, but for not letting him.
“Why?” hyunjae whispered, his voice trembling. “Why do you still love me after everything?”
Younghoon reached out, gently cupping hyunjae’s face in his hands. His touch was warm, steady, grounding him in the moment. “Because that’s what love is, Hyunjae. It’s not about earning it or deserving it. It’s about choosing it, every day, even when it’s hard. And I choose you.”
The tears hyunjae had been holding back finally spilled over, streaming down his cheeks. For so long, hyunjae had resisted this—resisted him—because he had been too afraid to let himself believe that he could be loved so completely. But now, with younghoon’s hands holding him so gently, younghoon’s eyes filled with nothing but tenderness, hyunjae couldn’t deny it anymore.
“I don’t know how to... be what you need,” hyunjae choked out, his voice thick with emotion. “I don’t know how to accept this, to accept you.”
“You don’t have to figure it all out right now,” Younghoon said softly, his thumbs brushing away his tears. “All I’m asking is that you let me try. Let me be here for you. That’s enough.”
Hyunjae looked up at him, his vision blurred by tears, and for the first time in a long while, hyunjae felt the weight of his guilt and fear start to lift. It wasn’t gone, but it was lighter, as if younghoon’s love was slowly chipping away at the walls hyunjae had built around himself.
“Thank you. Thank you for loving me, for staying even when I didn’t deserve it.”
Younghoon smiled, the kind of smile that reached his eyes, full of warmth and understanding. “You’ve always deserved it, Hyunjae,” he said. “You just couldn’t see it.”
Hyunjae nodded, unable to find the right words to express the depth of his gratitude. But it didn’t matter. In that moment, Younghoon understood. He always did.
“I’ll try. I’ll try to let you in. I’ll try to... accept your love. I want to.”
Younghoon’s smile widened, his eyes shining with quiet relief. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, lingering there for a moment as if sealing the promise they had just made to each other.
“That’s all I’ve ever wanted. For you to let me love you.”
Hyunjae closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of his kiss, the steady beat of younghoon’s heart as he held him close. For the first time in a long time, hyunjae let himself believe that maybe—just maybe—hyunjae could be loved, that hyunjae could love younghoon back. And in that quiet moment, wrapped in his embrace, hyunjae felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time: hope.