Chapter 25
Jaeyel’s body trembled, his vision swallowed in black.
His thoughts spiraled into the same nightmare he could never escape.
The suffocating terror of not knowing what would come next.
His breath hitched, shallow and frantic, his chest rising and falling like a bird caught in a cage.
Not again. Please – not again.
And then-
“Jaeyel…”
A voice. Low. Steady. Calm.
So achingly familiar that Jaeyel’s entire body stilled.
Right against his ear, warm breath grazing his skin.
His world shifted.
Before he could react, a pair of arms wrapped around him.
Not harsh, not bruising, but firm.
A backhug so steady, so devastatingly warm that his trembling ceased almost instantly, as if his body knew before his mind could catch up.
Jaeyel’s breath cracked.
His knees weakened.
That warmth pressed closer, chest to his back, heartbeat against his spine.
A face buried into the curve of his neck, and…
That scent.
That unmistakable, grounding scent.
His heart stopped, then thundered all at once.
The panic dissolved into something dizzying, dangerous, a rush of recognition that swept through him until his chest ached.
His lips parted, voice trembling as though the name had been buried inside him.
“…Yang.”
The moment the word left him, the grip shifted. The hold loosened, only to turn him abruptly.
In one swift, desperate motion, Jaeyel found himself face-to-face with him.
And Yang kissed him.
Hard.
It wasn’t careful.
It wasn’t gentle.
It was fire breaking through ice, hunger swallowing restraint.
His lips crashed against Jaeyel’s with the desperation of a man who had been searching, starving, waiting far too long.
Jaeyel froze for half a heartbeat, then the reality slammed into him.
The heat, the pressure, the way Yang’s hand cupped the back of his neck, refusing to let him slip away again.
The world around them blurred.
The faint voices from the nearby street, the laughter of late-night passersby, the shrill honk of a distant car – none of it mattered.
Yang didn’t hear, didn’t care.
All that existed in his universe was Jaeyel – alive, breathing, real and in his arms.
The kiss deepened, rough and consuming, as though Yang needed proof that Jaeyel wasn’t a dream that would vanish if he let go.
His other hand slid to Jaeyel’s waist, pulling him impossibly closer, pressing them together until no space remained.
…
Ric had been pacing back and forth in the small living room for what felt like forever.
His footsteps thudded against the wooden floor, his arms folded tightly across his chest, lips pressed in a thin line.
The old couple watched him from their seats, eyes following like they were tracking a restless animal.
Finally, the old woman slapped her hand on her knee and stood up.
“That’s enough!” she barked, swatting Ric on the arm as he passed by. “What on earth are you doing? You’re making me dizzy.”
Ric flinched, rubbing the spot with a scowl. “Ow! What’s your problem, granny?” he muttered, then turned his head sharply to the side, voice dropping lower as if embarrassed.
“…Jaeyel’s still not home.”
The old woman blinked at him. “So?”
“So what?” Ric shot back defensively, eyes darting away. “I’m not worried or anything! He’s probably just- just taking his time, hanging around, being slow like he always is. Tch!.”
The old man, who had been calmly sipping his tea this whole time, finally spoke up with a chuckle.
“If you’re that worried, why don’t you just go and fetch him?”
Ric froze mid-step, glaring as though the suggestion was ridiculous. “W-who’s worried? Not me! I don’t care if that idiot comes back late or not!”
He huffed, running a hand through his hair in frustration.
But after a beat, his expression softened slightly. “…Still. What if he- ugh, never mind.”
The old man tilted his head toward the door. “Then go. You’ll stop bothering us too.”
Ric scowled harder, but the logic was annoyingly sound.
Clicking his tongue, he snatched his jacket off the chair.
“Fine! Whatever! I’ll go, but only because you two are nagging me. Don’t get the wrong idea!” he barked as he stomped toward the door.
The old woman watched him leave with a long sigh, her hands on her hips. “…That boy,” she muttered, shaking her head.
The old man hid a smirk behind his teacup. “Don’t be too hard on him. I was like that too, once.”
The old woman turned to him, narrowing her eyes. “Like that? What do you mean?”
But the old man only chuckled, sipping his tea with a secret smile.
“You’ll figure it out.”
…
Jaeyel’s breaths came quick and shallow, his lips tingling, his body trembling under the sheer force of Yang’s kiss.
He tried to push him back, his fists pressing into Yang’s chest in weak, almost frantic punches – more out of desperation to slow the moment than real resistance.
Yang stilled.
His lips lingered against Jaeyel’s for a heartbeat before he finally drew back, breathing hard.
But he didn’t let go.
His arms stayed locked tight around Jaeyel, as if the moment he loosened them, Jaeyel would vanish into the night.
“…Jaeyel.”
His voice was hoarse, almost solemn.
One hand came up, cupping Jaeyel’s face. His thumb traced along the line of his cheek, trembling ever so slightly, as though memorizing his features all over again.
His dark eyes searched him – hungry, disbelieving, terrified.
Jaeyel’s own gaze wavered. He didn’t know what to do with the weight of it.
His nerves tangled with excitement, his chest tightening with something he couldn’t name.
This… this wasn’t the kind of meeting he had imagined if they ever saw each other again.
Yang noticed the tension in him, the stiffness of his shoulders, the way his lips pressed tight.
Slowly, his expression softened, and his voice dropped low, steady and calm, brushing against the raw edges of Jaeyel’s fear.
“I’m sorry,” Yang whispered.
“I didn’t mean to scare you. I just… I was afraid. Afraid you’d disappear before I could even touch you.”
The words cut through Jaeyel’s chest, leaving him frozen.
He lowered his eyes, unable to answer, unable to deny what Yang had just realized-
…that he hadn’t come home on purpose.
Yang’s hand lingered on his cheek, his thumb brushing against his skin with unbearable gentleness.
“I’ll give you time,” he murmured, gaze fixed on him as if each word were carved in stone.
“Time to sort out whatever it is you’re holding inside. But promise me one thing…”
He leaned closer, his breath warm, his grip unyielding.
“Don’t disappear again. Don’t make me lose you. Because I’ll stay here. In this village. I’ll wait for you as long as it takes. And if you try to run-”
His voice dropped, sharp as steel.
“I’ll find you. Even if I have to chase you to the ends of the earth.”
The intensity of his vow settled over Jaeyel like fire.
It was the same suffocating, overwhelming feeling he always had around Yang.
Something too strong to escape, too consuming to resist.
But instead of fear… something inside him loosened. The trembling in his chest eased.
That feeling, familiar and unrelenting, didn’t terrify him.
It felt… good.
…
Ric pushed open the convenience store door with his elbow, a plastic bag swinging lazily at his side.
The faint clink of soju bottles tapped together, wrapped in with a handful of late-night snacks.
He glanced down at the bag, lips quirking in a small smile before quickly erasing it, shaking his head as if to scold himself.
“Tch. It’s not like I bought this ‘cause I wanted to drink with him,” he muttered under his breath, his voice sharp with denial.
“I just… felt like drinking. That’s all.”
But the lie wavered.
His mind flickered back to the last time.
Jaeyel laughing, the quick blur of him stumbling, and then the sudden weight in Ric’s arms.
His hands gripping Jaeyel’s waist, firm, steady, too warm.
Ric froze in the memory, his ears burning.
He rubbed the back of his neck hard, trying to chase the image away, but his blush only deepened.
“Damn it,” he hissed under his breath, shaking his head again.
And then-
He looked up.
The bag in his hand went still.
Not far down the dim street, Jaeyel was there. Standing.
With someone.
…
Ric’s steps faltered.
His breath caught, the easy flush of his earlier thoughts vanishing in an instant.
Jaeyel noticed him a second later, turning with wide eyes, lips parting as if to speak.
But no sound came out.
Yang, however, was already looking at him.
His gaze cut sharp and steady, calm on the surface but carrying something deeper, heavier.
So intense Ric felt it tighten around his chest like a vise.
For a heartbeat, none of them moved.
The air itself seemed to thicken, charged and suffocating.
Ric swallowed hard, his throat dry. He forced himself to speak, though his voice betrayed the tension pressing against him.
“…Who are you?”
The words hung in the night air, pointed, trembling between challenge and fear.
Yang didn’t answer.
He didn’t have to.
His silence was more dangerous than any reply.
The three of them stood locked in the stillness of the street, the moment stretched tight, ready to snap.
…
