HIS TO KEEP Epilogue
HIS TO KEEP EPILOGUE
Chapter 12
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The door suddenly opened.
“Jaeyel.”
…
Jaeyel didn’t move.
Didn’t breathe.
The air between them shifted.
Yang was right there, just a few steps away, staring at him like he could see right through him.
And for a second – just a second – his expression shifted.
Cold.
Almost unreadable. But then, just as fast, it was gone.
The air felt heavier.
Jaeyel swallowed. “You’re… here.”
Yang didn’t answer. He just took a step forward.
Then another.
And another.
Slow.
The weight of each step felt heavier than it should, like the space between them was shrinking at an agonizing pace.
Jaeyel’s fingers curled slightly, nails pressing into his palm.
Then-
Yang reached out.
Fingertips skimmed Jaeyel’s cheek – barely there, just a ghost of a touch.
His fingers trailed along his jaw, slow and steady.
Like he was feeling for something. Searching.
Jaeyel tensed.
Yang leaned in, just a little. Not like before – not like the usual sudden, unapologetic kisses. This time, he was watching him.
His breath was warm, lips barely hovering over his.
When Jaeyel didn’t move, Yang closed the space completely.
A soft kiss.
Slow.
Measured.
A contrast to the tension thick in the air.
…
A week had passed.
Yang was busy again. So was Jaeyel.
Right now, he was at the dance studio, running through their upcoming performance for another award show. Sweat clung to his skin, his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath.
He’d been pushing himself hard – maybe harder than usual, but no matter how much he moved, how much he focused on the choreography, something kept gnawing at the back of his mind.
Something he couldn’t shake.
“Alright, let’s take five,” Minseo announced, dropping onto the floor with a groan. The rest of the group collapsed beside him, equally exhausted.
“Let’s go grab something to eat,” Steve suggested, already standing up.
Jaeyel opened his mouth, ready to decline, but Minseo beat him to it. “You need to eat too.”
“…I will,” Jaeyel reassured. “I just… wanna rest for a bit first.”
Minseo didn’t look convinced, but before he could argue, Steve clapped Jaeyel on the shoulder. “We’ll grab you something too.”
Jaeyel gave him a small smile and a nod. “Thanks.”
As soon as they were gone, the energy in the room shifted. The moment Jaeyel was alone, the tension crept back into his body. He let out a slow exhale, pressing his fingers against his temples.
But before he could even sort through his own thoughts-
buzz
Jaeyel’s phone vibrated on the bench.
… was it Yang?
Yang had mentioned that he’d message him later, so Jaeyel didn’t think twice before reaching for it. But when he glanced at the screen, his breath hitched.
Not Yang.
An unknown number.
A single message.
“It’s time.”
His fingers tightened around the phone. His pulse quickened.
What…?
He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. His eyes stayed locked on the screen, heartbeat pounding in his ears.
This again.
Jaeyel didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.
Because somehow, deep down, he knew-
This wasn’t just some random message.
It meant something.
And that realization sent a chill down his spine.
The hotel room was a mess – papers scattered across the desk, a few on the floor, laptop still open with unread emails stacking up.
It looked like someone had been working nonstop.
Yang stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his phone to his ear. Below him, the city lights of Tokyo stretched endlessly, but his mind was somewhere else.
“If anything happens to him, you’re the one I’ll deal with next. “Make sure he gets home safe.”
A pause. A response from the other end.
Yang’s gaze didn’t waver from the view. “No mistakes.”
Then, without another word, he ended the call.
For a moment, he just stood there, phone still in his grip. The tension in his jaw eased slightly, but the weight in his chest didn’t.
His fingers tapped lightly against the glass as he murmured under his breath – so soft, it was almost like he was speaking only to himself.
“My Jaeyel…”
His expression remained unreadable, but there was something deeper beneath it.
Something that ran far too deep.
