Chapter 6
Mornings had started to look different.
There was sunlight spilling through Jaerim’s half-open curtains – not that he opened them himself. That was all Dohyun.
The coffee table, once a disaster zone of empty cups and snack wrappers, now had sketchbooks spread out across it, pencils scattered like fallen leaves.
Dohyun sat cross-legged on the floor, sketching quietly. The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the apartment.
Jaerim leaned against the doorframe, watching him. “So this is what happens when you stop cleaning my place, you turn it into an art studio.”
Dohyun didn’t look up from his sketchpad. “You know, at this point, I should start paying you studio rent.”
Jaerim snorted, reaching for the coffee pot. “You pay in food. I guess… we’re even.”
That earned a small smile from Dohyun. “Fair deal.”
Dohyun’s pencil paused for a second, then kept moving. It had been so long since he’d drawn anything real. The first few strokes were shaky, uncertain, like he was relearning how to breathe.
But now, the lines came easier, the curve of a mug, the play of light on Jaerim’s window, a familiar shape coming alive again beneath his fingers.
When Jaerim handed him a mug of coffee, Dohyun blinked up in surprise. “You made this?”
Jaerim shrugged. “Don’t die of shock. I pressed a button.”
“Still…” Dohyun said with a small smile, taking a sip. “Thanks.”
Jaerim’s eyes flicked to the sketchpad. “That your latest masterpiece?”
“Just practicing.”
“Looks good.”
Dohyun raised a brow. “That sounded almost sincere.”
“Don’t get used to it” Jaerim said, but his voice was soft.
The apartment was quiet after that, filled with faint sounds: pencil scratching against paper, coffee cups clinking, and the lazy hum of the city outside.
Later that week, Jaerim had a surprise waiting when Dohyun came over.
The piano in his living room – untouched for who knows how long – had been dusted clean.
A faint sheen on the keys, the bench pulled out like someone had actually used it.
“You… played?” Dohyun asked, eyes widening.
Jaerim looked almost embarrassed. “Just checking if it still works.”
“And?”
“It doesn’t sound as bad as I remember.”
“That’s not how pianos work,” Dohyun said, smiling.
Jaerim shot him a look. “You know what I mean.”
“I do,” Dohyun said softly.
Jaerim didn’t respond.
He just sat down at the bench and pressed a few notes – hesitant, uneven, but warm. The sound filled the space like a heartbeat returning after too long.
Dohyun leaned against the doorway, listening quietly.
And for a fleeting moment, both of them were doing the things they had abandoned – the things that used to make them feel alive.
A few days later, Dohyun found himself standing in front of a headstone, the air cool and still. His mother’s name was carved in soft, clean lines.
He hadn’t been here since the funeral.
Jaerim stood beside him, hands in his coat pockets, not saying anything. He wasn’t the type to offer comfort with words – and Dohyun didn’t need them anyway.
He placed a bouquet of small white flowers at the base of the stone and exhaled slowly.
“Hi, Mom,” he said quietly. “It’s been a while.”
The wind stirred the trees. Dohyun smiled faintly. “I started drawing again. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? I think… I forgot how much I needed it.”
His voice softened.
“…There’s this guy. He’s… weird. Lazy. Eats like a raccoon. But he’s honest. And somehow, being around him makes me want to try again.”
Jaerim’s gaze flickered toward him, but he stayed silent.
Dohyun brushed some dust off the stone and whispered, “I think you’d have liked him too.”
For a long while, they stood there, saying nothing. Just the wind, and the faint sound of birds somewhere distant.
Then Jaerim said, quietly, “You did take care of her, you know.”
Dohyun turned. “What?”
Jaerim’s eyes met his – steady, sincere. “She raised someone who could take care of others. That’s not nothing.”
It wasn’t something Jaerim said lightly. And that’s why it hit harder than anything else could.
Dohyun’s throat tightened. He wanted to say something, but all that came out was a soft laugh. “You’re getting good at this comforting thing.”
“Don’t tell anyone,” Jaerim muttered, turning away. “Ruins my image.”
That night, they’d had dinner together again – nothing fancy, just stir-fried noodles and beer. The piano still hummed faintly from earlier, one of Jaerim’s unfinished melodies lingering in the air.
Now, hours later, Dohyun was in the kitchen again, sleeves rolled up as he rinsed dishes. The soft clatter of plates filled the quiet.
“You’re cleaning again?” Jaerim asked, leaning on the counter, hair still damp from a shower.
“It’s either that or let the plates grow legs,” Dohyun said without looking up.
Jaerim smirked. “You’d probably feed them, too.”
“Maybe,” Dohyun murmured, smiling.
“Can’t have that. Who’s going to draw all over my living room?”
“Who’s going to make sure you don’t die eating chips for breakfast?”
They exchanged small smiles, the kind that didn’t need words.
When the kitchen was finally quiet, Dohyun poured what was left of the beer into two glasses. They sat across from each other – the same spot they’d eaten dinner hours earlier.
Jaerim nudged his glass toward him, eyes half-lidded. “You know,” he said casually, “if anyone saw us like this, they’d probably think we’re dating.”
Dohyun froze, hand hovering midair. “…What?”
Jaerim leaned back in his chair, grin lazy but sharp. “You’re basically living here. Cooking, cleaning, drawing. You even scold me.” He took a sip of beer. “It’s suspicious.”
Dohyun let out a short, incredulous laugh. “…You’ve got quite the imagination.”
Jaerim tilted his head. “Do I?”
Dohyun tried to look away, but the question hung between them – light on the surface, heavy underneath. He told himself Jaerim was just teasing, but the warmth rising in his chest said otherwise.
“Jaerim.”
“What?”
“Shut up.”
Jaerim laughed, low and genuine. “You’re blushing.”
Dohyun sighed, shaking his head – but there was a smile tugging at his lips.
They finished drinking in that easy quiet that only existed between people who had learned to trust each other.
Later, as Jaerim sat at the piano again, his fingers brushing gently across the keys, Dohyun sketched him in the warm light – soft strokes, steady hand, a small smile on his face.
For the first time in a long time, the drawing wasn’t about regret.
It was about peace.
And maybe, something that felt a lot like love.
.
.
.
THE END
