Chapter 31
The silence stretched, thick and suffocating.
Jaeyel sat with his head bowed, his face unreadable, like a mask.
The only sound in the room was the faint tick of the clock and the shallow rhythm of their breaths.
Yang watched him with an expression he had never shown anyone before – not cold, not composed, but raw.
Nervous. Anxious.
His eyes searched Jaeyel’s face desperately, as if trying to find an answer there.
Finally, he whispered, soft and trembling,
“Jaeyel…”
The name slipped out like a prayer.
“I don’t want you to leave…”
Yang said, voice breaking the silence.
“I don’t want you to be afraid of me. I want you… only you. That’s why I kept this secret. Because my obsession… my twisted obsession…”
His voice cracked slightly, and he pressed his lips together before forcing the words out,
“…it turned into something else. Something real. Something I can’t control anymore. It’s too much. It’s overflowing.”
His gaze softened, almost pleading.
“But somewhere along the way… I stopped thinking about only what I want. I started to care about what you really wanted.”
Silence.
Jaeyel’s lips trembled.
His shoulders shook faintly, but his face was still lowered.
And then, barely audible – so faint even Yang couldn’t be sure if he heard it – words slipped out, broken, halting.
“I-…”
Yang froze, straining to catch it, but Jaeyel’s voice dissolved into silence.
And then the tears came.
Heavy, unrelenting.
They fell from Jaeyel’s eyes in a rush, sliding down his cheeks until he was trembling under their weight.
“Jaeyel-”
Yang started forward, panic rushing in.
His hands reached for him, almost frantic.
“I’ll give you time. If you need it, I’ll wait. Whatever you want, whatever you need – I’ll make it happen. Just don’t-”
“I love you!”
…
The words ripped from Jaeyel’s throat in a broken cry.
Yang went still.
Silence slammed into the room like a wall.
“And I hate it!”
Jaeyel sobbed, gripping his knees so tightly his knuckles turned white.
“I hate that I love you. I hate that no matter what you’ve done, no matter what you’ve hidden- I still…”
His voice broke, tears streaming endlessly.
“I still accept you… I still want you…”
Yang stared at him, speechless.
For once in his life, words deserted him.
His chest rose and fell sharply, eyes burning as he watched Jaeyel’s trembling figure.
And then something in his gaze shifted – sharp, raw, all-consuming.
In one swift motion, he leaned forward, cupping Jaeyel’s face, and crushed his lips against his.
The kiss was hard, desperate, overflowing with everything neither of them could say.
Jaeyel’s resistance melted, his fists weakly pounding against Yang’s chest before falling limp, surrendering to the fire consuming him.
Yang broke the kiss just enough to press his forehead against Jaeyel’s, his voice low and ragged.
“I love you more…”
He whispered.
“More than you can ever imagine. More than this world could ever allow.”
His words hit the air between them like heat. Jaeyel didn’t move, just watched Yang’s mouth, still parted, still close enough that every word felt like a touch.
The world outside the two of them didn’t matter.
Yang’s hand came up, slow and steady, fingers tracing the line of Jaeyel’s jaw. His thumb dragged along the corner of his mouth, then lingered there – soft pressure, barely moving.
Jaeyel’s breath caught. His hands found Yang’s shirt and stayed there, gripping the fabric like it was the only solid thing in the room.
Yang leaned in again.
This time, the kiss landed harder. Deeper. Their mouths met with the kind of pull that left no room for air, no space to think. The sound of it was quiet – a faint mix of breath and movement.
Jaeyel pressed closer, chasing the warmth, the taste, the way Yang’s breath shook against his skin.
The rhythm of it changed – slow, then rough, then slow again. Each time they pulled back, it wasn’t for long. Just enough to breathe, to feel the small gap between them close again.
Yang’s fingers slid to the back of Jaeyel’s neck, holding him there, thumb resting against his pulse. He could feel the rush of it, quick and uneven.
Jaeyel’s hands slid up, his fingers brushing Yang’s collar, tracing the line of his throat. It wasn’t a grab – more like he was trying to memorize what he was holding.
Yang exhaled, low, his breath hitting Jaeyel’s cheek before their lips found each other again.
Time blurred.
The kiss wasn’t rushed anymore – just steady and certain.
The kind of closeness that said everything words couldn’t.
Then-
Their lips met harder this time, as if sealing the truth between them.
…
The table was full – bowls clinking, chopsticks tapping, the smell of jjigae steaming between them.
The boys ate lazily, tired from practice, conversation drifting here and there.
Out of nowhere, Minseo set his chopsticks down with a loud clack.
“Aren’t you guys worried at all?” he snapped, glaring around the table.
Everyone paused mid-bite.
“About what?” one of them asked, already sounding exhausted.
“Jaeyel!” Minseo threw his arms out. “Do you seriously not care where he is right now?”
Others exchanged looks.
Then one shrugged. “Didn’t he say he’s with the CEO?”
“That’s exactly my point!” Minseo shot back, leaning forward.
“I didn’t see him with the CEO. How can you guys eat so calmly? We should be worried!”
Another member groaned, picking up more rice.
“After everything that happened last time, do you really think the CEO would let him slip away again? No way. He’s probably guarding him like a hawk.”
That earned a few quiet nods.
Minseo sat back, lips pressed tight and restless.
His chopsticks tapped against the bowl, his knee bouncing under the table.
The silence stretched until one of the quieter members, who rarely ever joined in on this kind of banter, finally spoke.
His voice was calm, too casual.
“Minseo, you should just give Jaeyel up.”
The chopsticks slipped from Minseo’s hand, clattering against the table.
He froze, eyes wide.
“W-what are you even talking about?”
His voice cracked, too high-pitched, too fast as if he’d been caught.
The table went dead quiet for a heartbeat, before everyone burst into laughter.
Minseo’s face flushed red.
He slammed the table with both palms, stammering over his words.
“I-it’s not like that! I don’t- what are you guys even implying?! You’re all crazy!”
His desperate denials only fueled more laughter.
The boys leaned on each other, wheezing, clutching their stomachs, while Minseo’s voice rose above them in shrill protest.
“Stop laughing! I’m serious! I’m just worried, okay?!”
But no one was listening.
The sound of their laughter filled the dorm, warm and bright, while Minseo’s flustered voice grew more and more desperate, his denials drowned out in the chaos.
…
Yang’s apartment was quiet, the kind of quiet that feels heavier after two people shared something that stripped them bare.
Yang’s arms were draped around Jaeyel, his breath steady.
Jaeyel stirred, eyes opening slowly.
…
For a moment, he just lay there, listening to Yang’s heartbeat under his cheek.
Safe.
Too safe.
He tilted his head, watching Yang’s face in the dark, and a small, soft smile curved his lips.
…But the smile didn’t stay long.
His expression shifted.
Carefully, Jaeyel slipped from Yang’s embrace, moving inch by inch so as not to wake him.
…
The apartment was dim, lit only by the faint spill of the city lights through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows.
Jaeyel walked toward them, his figure a faint shadow against the glow of the skyline.
He stood there for a long moment, gazing out at the sea of buildings and stars scattered beyond them.
And then his eyes shifted.
Past the reflection of himself in the glass.
Past the glittering city.
To the corner of the room.
Behind the tall plant.
The drawer.
His steps were slow, deliberate. Like a pull he couldn’t resist.
He stood in front of it, staring, his hand hovering but not moving.
His chest rose and fell, faster than before.
And then-
…
That day.
Back when Yang thought Jaeyel hadn’t looked.
Jaeyel’s hand had tugged the drawer open. Just a peek. Just curiosity.
But the sight inside rooted him in place.
A small box, neat and precise.
Inside: his grandmother’s bracelet. A few belongings he recognized faintly, things he had lost years ago.
And then… photos.
Three at first.
Pictures of himself, frozen in candid moments.
His breath caught.
Then-
He pulled open the second row…
And his blood ran cold.
Stacks. Hundreds. His face. His body. His every angle.
Most of them from the restaurant – the way he wiped a table, laughed with a coworker, even when he was simply walking home.
His hand trembled as he picked one up.
The memory hit him like glass shattering:
Yang telling him he burned all the photos Yin had collected. Yin’s rage at their loss.
But Yang hadn’t burned them.
Yang kept them.
…
Jaeyel muttered under his breath, the words trembling out:
“You… you were watching me too… You were always watching…”
The thought slithered into him like poison – or like fire.
His pulse thundered in his ears.
And then-
…he lifted his head.
On the side wall, where the mirror edge was cut into the design, his reflection stared back at him.
He looked at it casually at first, just lost in thought…
But then froze.
Because his reflection wasn’t horrified.
He was smiling.
Wide.
Twisted.
As if the discovery thrilled him.
As if some hidden part of him reveled in it.
Jaeyel stumbled back with a strangled gasp, his hand flying to his mouth.
“No… no…” he whispered, shaking his head violently.
His chest heaved, his body shivering.
“I… smiled… I… smiled at that…”
His knees nearly gave in.
He looked at his own hands as though they didn’t belong to him.
As if he was scared of himself.
…
And now back to present.
Standing in the same place, the same drawer hidden behind the same plant…
Jaeyel’s gaze lifted again to that mirror.
His reflection stared back at him in silence.
But this time, he didn’t flinch.
His voice was quiet, raw, but steady.
“…I guess… he’s not the only one obsessed.”
The reflection seemed to agree, his lips almost curving, as if the glass itself was holding secrets he didn’t want to face.
The room felt too still, too heavy.
Almost as if Yang might wake at any moment and catch him – not at the drawer, but at war with himself.
…
THE END
