Yang stood before Jaeyel protectively, his entire frame tense with fury. His cold, sharp eyes locked onto the man across from him—the same face, the same features, but a completely different person. Yang’s voice was low, warning, and laced with restrained rage.

“Yin.”

The name left his lips like a curse. Yin let out a bitter, humorless laugh before frustration twisted his features into something dark. His voice wavered between anger and desperation.

“Again! You’re always in the way! Why do you have to take Jaeyel from me?! He was mine first! You only got to know him because of me!” His voice cracked, laced with something unhinged. “You told me to stop, you warned me, you threatened me, but then you—”

“Yin.” Yang’s voice came out firm, controlled, but deadly, cutting through Yin’s rant with a single commanding tone. Even Jaeyel flinched at the intensity of it.

Yang’s eyes darkened. “I warned you. If you didn’t stop, I’d send you back to the facility.”

Yin’s entire demeanor shifted. Fear. Genuine fear flickered across his face as he stumbled backward. “No… No, I can’t go back! I just wanted to see him one last time. I just wanted to warn him about you!”

His emotions spiraled, his expressions flickering between anger and desperation, shifting like a storm inside him. One moment, he was pleading. The next, he was filled with rage. His erratic state made Jaeyel’s stomach churn. He couldn’t bear to look at him. It was terrifying.

Yang noticed and didn’t hesitate. With a single glance, he signaled the guards standing outside. The door swung open, and two men stepped in.

“Take him away.”

Yin thrashed as they grabbed him, his shouts echoing through the room. “No! You can’t do this to me! Jaeyel! You know nothing! He’s dangerous! I’m your savior!”

The words sent chills down Jaeyel’s spine, but he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block it all out. The door slammed shut behind them, and silence settled in.

A heavy, suffocating silence.

A soft voice broke through it. “Jaeyel… Are you okay?”

Yang’s voice was steady, grounding, but Jaeyel barely registered it. His whole body trembled, his mind spinning in a chaotic blur. He couldn’t breathe properly, his chest felt too tight, his hands too cold. When Yang reached out, Jaeyel instinctively flinched.

Yang froze for a moment. But instead of pulling away, he stayed there, close yet careful, his presence unwavering. He didn’t rush him. He just waited. Letting Jaeyel breathe. Letting him process.

And then, finally—Jaeyel broke.

Tears welled in his eyes before spilling over, hot and uncontrollable. His shoulders shook, and a choked sob escaped his lips. The weight of everything, fear, exhaustion, relief—crashed over him all at once, leaving him completely defenseless.

Yang didn’t hesitate this time.

He pulled Jaeyel into his arms, his grip firm yet impossibly gentle. Jaeyel didn’t resist. He couldn’t. The warmth of Yang’s embrace was the only thing keeping him from falling apart completely.

His fingers clutched onto the fabric of Yang’s shirt, gripping it like a lifeline as he buried his face into his chest. The steady thump of Yang’s heartbeat filled his ears, grounding him in the moment, in the safety of someone who, for some reason, was always there.

Yang said nothing—he just held him, one hand cradling the back of Jaeyel’s head, the other wrapped securely around his back. His touch wasn’t just comforting; it was steady, unshakable, as if he was silently telling Jaeyel he wasn’t going anywhere.

---

Later, in Yang’s apartment.

Jaeyel sat on the couch, his body still weak from the overwhelming emotions. He wrapped his arms around himself as if trying to hold himself together.

Yang entered the living room and silently handed him a cup of tea. Jaeyel hesitated before taking it. The warmth seeped into his cold fingers, grounding him slightly.

A moment passed before he finally spoke.

“Tell me.”

He didn’t need to elaborate. Yang understood.

He sat across from Jaeyel, close but not too close, his gaze unwavering.

“I found out about Yin stalking you four years ago.”

Jaeyel’s fingers tightened around the cup. Four years… Yang had known him for that long?

“Back then, I barely came home,” Yang continued. “I was rebellious, uninterested in anything—anyone. But Yin… he was different. He always obsessed over things. It was never healthy. I didn’t think much of it—until I walked into his room one day and saw it.”

Jaeyel swallowed hard. “Saw what?”

Yang’s expression darkened. “Your pictures. Hundreds of them. Everywhere.”

A shiver crawled down Jaeyel’s spine.

“I warned him to stop, but he never listened. So I got rid of everything myself. He hated me for it. I knew he wouldn’t stop, so I made sure to keep you safe. That’s why I brought you into the company. It was the only way I could watch over you.“

Jaeyel stared at him, mind reeling. It made sense now—why Yang always seemed to know when something was wrong, why he was always watching over him.

But there was still one question.

“The bracelet,” he murmured. “My grandmother’s bracelet. I saw it here.”

Yang’s expression softened. “I found it when I was cleaning out Yin’s things. I couldn’t throw it away. I wanted to return it to you, but I didn’t know how.”

He exhaled quietly, his gaze steady on Jaeyel. “I’m sorry for not telling you sooner.” There was something in his voice—something rare. “I should have. But it doesn’t matter now. You’re here, and I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Jaeyel had never seen Yang like this before. The usual cold, unreadable Yang was gone. In his place was someone… different. Someone real. Someone who, for the first time, felt within reach.

Jaeyel swallowed. The weight of Yang’s words settled deep in his chest, something unfamiliar stirring inside him. He wasn’t sure what to say—wasn’t sure if he could even trust the way those words made him feel.

Safe.

Like he wasn’t alone in this world anymore.

Jaeyel felt his throat tighten. Everything… Everything made sense now.

A hand covered his. Warm, steady, grounding. Jaeyel looked down at their joined hands, then back at Yang.

For the first time, Jaeyel didn’t pull away.

He realized it then, despite everything, he really felt safe with Yang.

Their eyes met. The air shifted—thick, heavy, charged with something neither of them could ignore anymore. It wasn’t just tension. It was a slow-burning fire that had been waiting to consume them.

His fingers brushed against Jaeyel’s wrist, slow and deliberate. Just that small touch sent a shiver down Jaeyel’s spine. His skin tingled where Yang’s fingers lingered, warm and firm.

Yang reached out, his fingers brushing Jaeyel’s cheek, slow, careful, as if giving him a chance to pull away.

Jaeyel didn’t.

His hand moved—trailing up his arm, barely touching, just enough to make Jaeyel feel it everywhere. His heart pounded against his ribs. It was unbearable. The way Yang looked at him, the way his touch sent heat rushing through his veins—it was too much.

And yet, not enough.

Jaeyel let out a shaky breath. That was when Yang leaned in. Not enough to close the distance, but enough that their breaths mixed. That their knees brushed. That one small movement would change everything.

Jaeyel’s fingers curled into the fabric of his pants, trying to keep himself grounded. But it was impossible when Yang was this close, when his scent filled the space between them, when his touch felt like fire against his skin.

“Jaeyel…” Yang’s voice was low, almost a whisper.

Jaeyel’s pulse jumped.

He should move. He should move.

But he didn’t.

Then—

Their lips met.

The first press was slow, tentative, but that restraint shattered in an instant.

Yang’s hand slid to the back of Jaeyel’s neck, pulling him in, deepening the kiss until there was no space left between them.

It was urgent, desperate—like he had been starving for this, for him.

Jaeyel gasped against Yang’s mouth, fingers fisting into his shirt, anchoring himself as his body melted into the heat of it.

Yang wasn’t gentle. He kissed Jaeyel like he was memorizing the taste of him, like he had been holding back for too long and couldn’t afford to anymore.

His hands traced down Jaeyel’s sides, gripping his waist, pulling him flush against his own body.

Jaeyel shuddered. His body reacted before his mind could catch up, pressing into Yang, craving more—needing more.

Their breaths tangled, sharp and uneven. Hands roamed, grasping, pulling, fingers digging into fabric and skin.

Nothing else existed.

Just them. Just this.

Jaeyel barely registered the moment he was guided back, his spine pressing against the couch, Yang leaning over him.

Lips trailed down his jaw, his throat, the ghost of teeth scraping against sensitive skin.

Jaeyel’s breath hitched, his pulse a frantic drum in his ears. Heat coiled low in his stomach, something dangerous, something dizzying.

Yang’s fingers brushed under the hem of his shirt, teasing, burning against his skin. Jaeyel gasped, his grip on Yang tightening, nails digging in.

His thoughts blurred, drowning under the weight of it all—of him.

This was dangerous. This was reckless.

Intoxicating. Consuming.

And Jaeyel didn’t want it to stop.