The peaceful atmosphere of the shrine was a stark contrast to the turmoil they had left behind. As the afternoon sun began to warm the wooden decks, Rinwoo approached Master Hwang, who was meticulously arranging healing herbs.
"Harabeoji," Rinwoo began, his voice soft but steady. "I will make dinner tonight."
Master Hwang looked up immediately, his wise eyes filled with deep concern. "Absolutely not," he said, his tone gentle but firm. "You need to rest. Your body and spirit have been through a terrible ordeal. Cooking is the last thing you should be doing."
A small, patient smile touched Rinwoo's lips. It was the same smile he'd used for years to assure everyone he was fine, but now it felt different—lighter, less of a mask and more of a genuine, if weary, calm. "I am all right. Really. There is nothing wrong with me. I feel… clear." The heavy stone of grief was still in his chest, but the sharp, shattered edges had been smoothed by the truth and the presence of family. The act of doing something normal, something domestic, felt necessary.
Beom Seok, who had been quietly observing nearby, stepped forward. He could see the stubborn worry on Master Hwang's face and the quiet determination on Rinwoo's. "Master," Beom Seok said, bowing slightly. "Please, allow me to go with him. I will help him. There is no need for you to worry. You should rest. You've been through much as well."
He offered Rinwoo a supportive smile. "The stream at the base of the mountain has good fish this time of year. We can catch something fresh for dinner. The walk will do you good."
Master Hwang looked between the two young men. He saw the protective gleam in Beom Seok's eyes and the fragile need for normalcy in Rinwoo's. His grandfather's heart warred with his protective instincts, but he relented with a slow, hesitant nod.
"Alright," he conceded, though worry still lined his face. "But be careful. Do not overexert yourself, Rinwoo-ya. Beom Seok, you look after him."
"Of course, Master," Beom Seok said, bowing again.
With a final, grateful nod to his grandfather, Rinwoo turned. Together, he and Beom Seok began the walk down the winding mountain path, a basket for fish in hand. The further they got from the shrine, the more Rinwoo seemed to breathe easier. He wasn't running away; he was walking toward something simple, something real. He was moving forward, one step at a time, with the sun on his face and a friend by his side, leaving the shadow of the Lee estate behind him, at least for the afternoon
The mountain stream bubbled and sparkled in the late afternoon sun, cutting a clear path through the lush green. The air was fresh and cool, filled with the sound of rushing water and birdsong.
Rinwoo sat on a smooth, sun-warmed rock at the water's edge, his fishing line drifting in the current. He looked more at peace than Beom Seok had ever seen him, the tension finally gone from his shoulders.
Beom Seok, standing a little ways upstream, was supposed to be fishing too. But he found himself watching Rinwoo instead, completely captivated.
A mischievous glint appeared in Beom Seok's eye. He quietly waded through the shallow water, coming up behind Rinwoo's rock. He took a deep breath and splashed a handful of icy water right at him.
"Yah!" Rinwoo yelped, jolting as the cold water hit his neck and back. He spun around, a look of mock outrage on his face, but it quickly dissolved into surprised laughter. The sound was light, free, and utterly beautiful, echoing off the rocks.
Beom Seok's heart did a funny little flip in his chest. He'd made him laugh. He'd pulled that genuine, joyful sound from the man who had known so much pain.
"Payback for out-fishing me!" Beom Seok declared, grinning widely, his own heart feeling like it might burst.
Rinwoo shook his head, still laughing, droplets of water flying from his hair. "You're just impatient! Fishing requires stillness!" he retorted, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
In that moment, as Rinwoo laughed under the dappled sunlight, water sparkling on his skin, Beom Seok realized it. The feeling that had been growing in his chest since the moment they met wasn't just protectiveness or admiration.
It was love.
A deep, overwhelming, and utterly terrifying wave of love washed over him. He loved Rinwoo's gentle strength. He loved his quiet resilience. He loved the way his nose scrunched when he laughed, just like it was doing now. He loved him so much it stole the air from his lungs.
His grin softened into a tender, awe-struck smile. He didn't say anything. He just stood there in the cool stream, watching the man he loved laugh, committing every detail of this perfect, simple moment to memory, knowing his heart was no longer entirely his own.
Juwon's home office, usually a place of pristine order, had been taken over by a feverish, clingy Taemin. He was draped over Juwon like a possessive, melancholic blanket, his head buried in Juwon's neck, effectively pinning him to his chair.
"Taemin-ah, I really have to take this call," Juwon murmured, trying to gently pry him off. His laptop screen was filled with a waiting video conference call he was about to miss.
Taemin just shook his head, his grip tightening. "No. Don't go. They're all boring anyway." His voice was a muffled, petulant whine against Juwon's skin.
Juwon let out a long, suffering sigh. This had been going on for hours. He was worried sick about Taemin's fever and his mental state, but he also had a multi-billion-won company to help run. He couldn't spend the entire day being used as a human teddy bear.
An idea sparked a risky one, but he was desperate.
He finally managed to disentangle himself enough to turn and look at Taemin. He put on his best, most dramatically wounded expression. "You know," he began, his voice dripping with faux sadness, "this is all your fault."
Taemin's head snapped up, his fever-glazed eyes wide with confusion and instant guilt. "What? My fault? What did I do?"
Juwon pouted, a masterpiece of manipulation. "You promised me a date. A proper, romantic date. You said you'd kidnap me. And instead, I'm kidnapped in my own office by a sweaty, grumpy koala who won't let me work." He gestured to himself, then to Taemin. "I'm being held hostage. I'm missing very important, very boring meetings because my boyfriend is a promise-breaker."
He let the accusation hang in the air, watching the gears turn in Taemin's fever-slowed mind. The guilt was clearly winning over the self-pity.
"I… I'm not a promise-breaker," Taemin mumbled, his lower lip jutting out.
"Then prove it," Juwon challenged, raising an eyebrow. "The only way to fix this, the only way to make it up to me, is to finally take me on that date. Right now."
It was a gamble. Taemin was sick, and Juwon felt a twinge of guilt for manipulating him. But he needed to break the cycle. He needed to get Taemin out of this room, out of his own head.
Taemin stared at him for a long moment, the internal battle between his desire to wallow and his desire to make Juwon happy playing out on his face. Finally, with a gigantic, put-upon sigh that was entirely for show, he slid off Juwon's lap.
"Fine," he grumbled, swaying slightly on his feet. "But I'm buying. And I get to pick the place too."
A triumphant smile spread across Juwon's face. He'd done it. He quickly sent a message canceling his meetings, then stood up, wrapping an arm around his wobbly boyfriend. "Deal. Now, go put on something that isn't pajamas, you grumpy koala."
He'd successfully bribed a sick Taemin out of his depression nest with the promise of a date. It was unorthodox, but for Juwon, it was a victory. He'd deal with the potential public napping later.
The "date" was a far cry from the glamorous, romantic evening Juwon had probably fantasized about. Taemin, true to his word, had chosen the place: a cramped, steamy, and incredibly loud ramen shop tucked away in a bustling alley. The air was thick with the smell of pork broth and garlic.
Taemin was slumped over the small table, still looking pale and sweaty, but a flicker of his old self was there. He was currently attempting to slurp a noodle, but it kept slipping off his chopsticks, splashing back into the bowl and spraying his cheek with broth.
Juwon watched him, his heart doing a complicated squeeze of affection, concern, and sheer amusement. He wasn't on a video call about merger acquisitions; he was on a date with his feverish boyfriend who was losing a fight with ramen.
"Here," Juwon said softly, unable to stop a fond smile. He reached over with his own chopsticks, expertly twirled a neat bundle of noodles, and held it up to Taemin's mouth. "Try it like this."
Taemin blinked, then leaned forward and obediently ate the offered noodles. He chewed slowly, then managed a weak, but genuine, smile. "S'good."
It was a mess. Taemin's nose was running. He'd already knocked over his glass of water. And Juwon was fairly certain he was seconds away from face-planting into his bowl.
But as Juwon watched Taemin try to smile, saw the way his eyes, though tired, stayed fixed on him with a familiar devotion, he knew it was perfect. This wasn't a storybook date. It was better. It was real. It was them. And for the first time since the Lee family had imploded, a sense of normalcy, however messy, began to seep back in. Juwon reached out, wiping the stray broth from Taemin's cheek with his thumb, his touch infinitely tender. The date had begun.
The grand living room of the Lee estate was a pressure cooker of fury. Mr. Lee paced like a caged tiger, his face a thunderous mask of displeasure. He had meticulously arranged for Nayeon to visit, a strategic move to solidify the promising connection with the Jeon family after the disastrous dinner. And Taemin was nowhere to be found.
"Useless! Both of you!" Mr. Lee's voice lashed out, whipping towards Daon and the general direction of the house where Taekyun was still sequestered. "I ask for one thing! To keep track of your brother! And he vanishes! Is there no discipline left in this house?!"
Daon stood stiffly, his phone pressed to his ear. "It's going straight to voicemail. His phone must be dead," he reported, his own anxiety spiking. He'd been trying to cover for Taemin, but a dead phone was a problem he couldn't explain away.
"Dead!" Mr. Lee exploded. "Of course it is! He's probably off doing God knows what! This is your fault! And it is Taekyun's! This chaos is the result of your leniency and his failures!"
Eunjae, who had been watching from the sidelines, saw Daon's jaw tighten, saw the unfairness of the blame. His protective instincts flared. He stepped forward, placing himself slightly between Daon and his father's wrath.
"It's not Daon's fault Taemin is irresponsible," Eunjae stated, his voice sharper than he intended. "Yelling at him won't make Taemin appear."
The intervention was a mistake. Mr. Lee's glare, previously directed at his sons, now zeroed in on Eunjae with terrifying intensity. The outsider. The disruptor.
"You," Mr. Lee hissed, taking a step closer, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "You dare speak? You, who has done nothing but cause dissent and challenge my authority since the moment you arrived? This is your influence! This… this lack of respect!"
The accusation was outrageous, but it hung in the air, suffocating and toxic.
From her perch on an elegant sofa, Nayeon watched the scene unfold, her earlier excitement at the shopping trip completely evaporated. Her smile had vanished, replaced by a frown of genuine concern. The family was clearly in shambles. The yelling, the accusations… it was nothing like the powerful, united front they were supposed to be. And Taemin… where was he? Her worry wasn't for the missed shopping trip anymore, but for the boy she'd once known. Was he okay? Was he in trouble? The loud, angry world of the Lee family suddenly felt very dark, and she felt very small and very out of place in the middle of it.
The frantic energy of the ramen shop was miles away. Juwon had driven them to a quiet public garden on the outskirts of the city, a place where the only sounds were the distant hum of traffic and the gentle rustle of leaves. The sky was painted in breathtaking strokes of orange, pink, and deep purple as the sun began its descent.
Taemin, wrapped in a blanket Juwon had produced from his car trunk, was leaning against his boyfriend on a secluded bench. The fever had broken, leaving him pale and exhausted, but lucid. The frantic, desperate energy that had gripped him was gone, replaced by a deep, weary calm.
He wasn't talking much, but he was present. His head rested on Juwon's shoulder, his eyes fixed on the spectacular sunset. The vibrant colors seemed to soothe something raw inside him.
"Feeling better?" Juwon asked softly, his arm a warm, steady weight around Taemin's shoulders.
Taemin nodded slowly, a small, real smile touching his lips. "Yeah," he whispered, his voice hoarse but clear. "Quieter."
The silence that followed was comfortable, filled with the shared understanding that words weren't needed. The simple act of sitting together, watching the day end, was a balm. For Taemin, it was a moment of peace stolen from the chaos of his life. For Juwon, it was a quiet victory. He hadn't fixed everything—the problems with Taemin's family were still a tangled mess—but he had his boyfriend back, calm and safe in his arms, under a sky on fire. It was enough. For now, it was more than enough.
The tranquility of the sunset was shattered by a sudden, possessive pull. Juwon's hand fisted in the front of Taemin's shirt, yanking him forward.
"J-Juwon, wait," Taemin protested weakly, his hands coming up to push against Juwon's chest. "I'm sick… you'll get—"
"I don't care," Juwon breathed, his voice thick with weeks of pent-up worry, distance, and longing. He'd had enough of a fragile, broken Taemin. He wanted his Taemin back. The one who was fire and defiance and life.
With a strength that surprised them both, Juwon pulled Taemin off the bench. They tumbled onto the soft, cool grass, Juwon rolling so that Taemin landed beneath him, his back pressed into the earth. The blanket was tangled around them.
Before Taemin could utter another word of protest, Juwon captured his lips in a searing, desperate kiss.
It wasn't gentle. It was a claiming. A kiss full of all the fear of almost losing him, the frustration of the past days, and the overwhelming relief of having him here, alive and real. For a moment, Taemin stiffened, the last of his resistance clinging on.
But then, something in him broke. The fear, the sickness, the weight of his family's collapse—it all melted under the fierce, undeniable truth of Juwon's kiss. This was what he needed. Not coddling. Not pity. This raw, real connection.
With a broken, surrendering sound, Taemin's hands slid from Juwon's chest to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. He kissed Juwon back with a frantic, equal desperation, as if he could pour all his pain and love and fear into the connection. He kissed him like it was the only thing keeping him anchored to the earth, like the world could end tomorrow and this would be enough.
They kissed under the dying embers of the sunset, two boys clinging to each other in a world that kept trying to tear them apart, finding their way back to each other in the language they knew best: fierce, unapologetic, and all-consuming love. The grass was cool beneath them, the air was warm around them, and for that one, perfect moment, nothing else existed.
Their breathing was ragged, mingling with the twilight air. Foreheads resting together, they simply existed in the charged silence, the world slowly coming back into focus.
Then, Juwon, who was still straddling Taemin's lap, felt a very distinct, very insistent pressure beneath him. A slow, wicked chuckle rumbled in his chest. He leaned down, his lips brushing Taemin's ear.
"Not so sick anymore, huh?" he teased, his voice a low, suggestive purr.
A familiar, defiant smirk spread across Taemin's face, the first real glimpse of his old self Juwon had seen in days. "Shut up," he mumbled, but there was no heat in it, only a breathless anticipation.
Juwon grinned, the victory sweet. He quickly glanced around the deserted garden. Satisfied they were alone, he pushed himself up and off Taemin in one fluid motion. Without a word, he grabbed Taemin's hand, his grip firm and sure.
"Come on," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. He began pulling a slightly dazed but willing Taemin behind him, striding purposefully back toward the parked car.
"And where are we going?" Taemin asked, a laugh bubbling up in his throat as he stumbled slightly, letting himself be dragged.
Juwon threw a blazing, mischievous look over his shoulder. "To fix your… condition. Immediately."
Taemin's chuckle turned into a full-blown laugh, the sound free and light, echoing in the quiet park. He didn't resist. He simply followed, his hand tight in Juwon's, ready to be wherever Juwon was taking him. The date was over. Something much, much better was beginning.
The serene atmosphere of the mountain shrine was thoroughly shattered by the sound of uproarious laughter. Rinwoo and Beom Seok stumbled back into the main courtyard, a complete mess. Their clothes were splattered with mud and stream water, their hair was damp and wild, and the fishing basket they carried was conspicuously empty.
Beom Seok was clutching his stomach, tears of laughter streaming down his face as he recounted his spectacular failure to catch a single fish, ending with him slipping on a mossy rock and pulling Rinwoo into the water with him. Rinwoo was laughing along, the sound loud and bright, echoing off the ancient wooden buildings.
Master Hwang, drawn by the noise, appeared at the doorway. A surprised smile touched his lips at the sight. It was good to see Rinwoo laugh, to see some color back in his cheeks. Yet, to his finely tuned ears, something in the laughter rang a little too loud, a little too forced, as if Rinwoo was trying to convince himself of the joy as much as anyone else.
His grandfatherly concern quickly overrode his amusement. "Beom Seok-ah!" he scolded, though his eyes were kind. "Look at the state of him! You'll make him catch a cold! What were you thinking, getting him all wet?"
Before Beom Seok could stammer an apology, Rinwoo jumped in, his forced laughter softening into a more genuine, playful smirk. "It was my fault, Harabeoji. I pushed him first." He nudged Beom Seok with his elbow. "But he fell much more dramatically."
He then turned towards the living quarters. "I'm going to go clean up before I track mud everywhere."
As Rinwoo walked away, still smiling and shaking his head at their own foolishness, he was completely unaware of the two pairs of eyes watching him.
Master Hwang and Beom Seok stood side-by-side, their earlier scolding and teasing forgotten. They watched Rinwoo's retreating back, identical warm, hopeful smiles on their faces. They saw the effort he was making, the fragile attempt to grasp normalcy and happiness. To them, even a forced laugh was a victory. It was a sign that he was trying to heal, and that was enough to fill their hearts with a protective, tender warmth. They stood in comfortable silence, united in their shared, unspoken mission: to keep that smile on his face, no matter what.
The moment the wooden door of his room clicked shut, the vibrant, laughing persona Rinwoo had worn like a costume evaporated. The sound was like a switch being flipped. He leaned back heavily against the door, his shoulders slumping as all the forced energy drained from his body.
He stared down at the muddy patterns on the floorboards, his brow furrowed in a deep, confused sadness. Why? The question echoed in the silent room. He'd laughed. He'd teased. He was with people who cared for him, in a beautiful, peaceful place. He was trying so hard. So why did he feel… nothing? It was like a thick pane of glass separated him from any real joy. He could see it, could mimic it, but he couldn't actually feel it.
A profound weariness, deeper than any physical exhaustion, settled into his bones. He felt weak, hollowed out. He pushed off the door and took a few steps, leaning his forehead against the cool wall instead, closing his eyes as a wave of emptiness washed over him.
It was then he felt the familiar, warm trickle.
A single drop of blood welled from his nostril and traced a path down to his lip. Rinwoo's eyes fluttered open. He didn't startle. He didn't panic. He simply looked at the red droplet on his finger with a detached, numb resignation. It was just another symptom. Another sign that something inside him was broken beyond easy repair.
He wiped it away with the back of his hand, leaving a faint red smear across his skin. There was no urgency, no fear. Just a tired acceptance.
Pushing himself away from the wall, he moved to the small washbasin. He cleaned the blood from his face with methodical, emotionless movements. Then, he changed out of his dirty, damp clothes into something clean and soft.
Outwardly, he was presentable. Calm. Ready to rejoin his grandfather and Beom Seok for dinner. But inside, the hollow ache remained, and the faint, coppery taste of blood was a bitter reminder that the deepest wounds weren't the ones you could see.
The oppressive silence in the Lee estate had shifted from tense to exhausted. Nayeon had been seen out, her departure a quiet, awkward affair. Mr. Lee had finally retreated to his own quarters, his fury having burned down to a cold, simmering ember that promised future confrontations.
In their bedroom, Daon sat on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. The weight of managing the fallout, of being the only functional pillar left, was crushing him. The stress was a tangible ache behind his eyes.
Eunjae knelt on the floor in front of him, his hands on Daon's knees, his expression fierce with concern. "It's going to be alright," he murmured, trying to pour his own strength into his husband. "We'll figure it out."
Daon lifted his head, his eyes weary. He looked at Eunjae, really looked at him, seeing the fiery loyalty that had gotten them both into so much trouble. "When will you stop?" Daon asked, his voice quiet, drained. "When will you stop standing against my father?"
The question made Eunjae freeze. He looked away, his jaw tightening. "I can't," he said, his voice low but firm. "I can't stand there and watch him blame you for everything. For nothing."
Daon sighed, a sound of profound fatigue. He rubbed his temples. "It's nothing, Eunjae. I've gotten used to it. So it's okay. If he blames me, it's okay. It's not like he's blaming you."
The acceptance in Daon's voice, the sheer resignation, was the final straw for Eunjae. It wasn't okay. It would never be okay.
He looked up, and something in him snapped. All the frustration, the injustice, the protectiveness he'd been feeling boiled over.
"NO!" Eunjae yelled, surging to his feet. The word ripped through the quiet room. "Why? Why do you always have to suffer?!"
Daon flinched, startled by the outburst. "Eunjae—"
"Why did you stand in front of me?!" Eunjae continued, his voice rising, trembling with rage and pain. "That old man had you whipped! For me! And Taekyun? Taekyun had a whole secret girlfriend and all he got was some cold water! And now he's just lying around in his room feeling sorry for himself when he suffered NOTHING compared to you!"
Tears of furious frustration welled in Eunjae's eyes. He was pacing now, a caged animal. "Why, Daon? Why do you have to just stay silent and take it? Why is it always you?! I can't… I can't watch you get treated like you're nothing! You're not nothing!"
Daon stood up, reaching for him. "Eunjae, calm down—"
"I WON'T CALM DOWN!" Eunjae shouted, shoving his hands away. The raw, unfiltered pain in his voice was a mirror reflecting back the injustice Daon had learned to live with. Eunjae couldn't live with it. He loved him too much. And seeing Daon accept it was the most painful thing of all. The fight wasn't with Daon; it was for him, and Eunjae was losing it spectacularly.
Daon let out a long, weary sigh. He looked at Eunjae, not with anger, but with a deep, exhausted resignation. "Eunjae," he said, his voice flat. "You don't have to do this. You don't have to pity me. I've been through a lot in this family. I'm used to it. I just... I just want you to stay out of it. I don't want Father's anger to turn on you. I don't want him to hurt you. That's all."
He said it like it was simple. Like it was a reasonable request to just endure unfairness forever.
Eunjae saw red.
In a flash of movement, he surged forward. His hands shot out, grabbing fistfuls of Daon's shirt, yanking him forward with a force that stole the air from both of them.
"I DON'T PITY YOU!" Eunjae yelled, his voice cracking with the force of his emotion. Daon stumbled, his eyes wide with shock, completely frozen by the outburst.
Eunjae shook him, just once, a desperate, frustrated gesture. "I'm not standing up for you because you did it once for me! I'M NOT DOING IT OUT OF SOME STUPID DEBT!"
Tears of pure fury and helplessness streamed down Eunjae's face. He released one hand from Daon's shirt only to hit him squarely in the chest with a closed fist. It wasn't meant to hurt; it was a punctuation of his words.
"I DO IT BECAUSE I LOVE YOU, YOU STUPID, DUMB IDIOT!"
The confession exploded in the space between them, raw and shocking in its intensity. Daon stood utterly paralyzed, his mind trying and failing to process the words.
Eunjae wasn't finished. The dam had broken. "I HATE seeing you in pain! I HATE watching them mistreat you! And in return, what do you do?! You do nothing! You just work harder! You just take it! And in the end... in the end, you're the one who gets sick from the stress!"
His voice, which had been a furious shout, finally broke on the last word, dissolving into a choked, heart-wrenching sob. He let go of Daon's shirt, his hands falling to his sides as his shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of him, leaving only the devastating, vulnerable truth hanging in the air. He loved him. And watching the man he love willingly accept a life of silent suffering was tearing him apart.
The fight drained out of Eunjae as quickly as it had ignited. His shoulders began to shake, great, heaving sobs wracking his frame. The anger was gone, replaced by the raw, unvarnished hurt that had fueled it. Hiccups punctuated his cries, making him sound heartbreakingly young and utterly lost.
Daon's own shock melted away, replaced by a wave of overwhelming tenderness. The sight of Eunjae, who was always so defiant and loud, crumbling into such vulnerable pieces because of him, shattered the last of his own walls.
His arms, which had been held stiffly at his sides, came up and wrapped around Eunjae, pulling him into a tight, secure embrace. He held him close, one hand cupping the back of Eunjae's head, the other rubbing slow, soothing circles on his back.
"Shhh, hey… it's okay," Daon murmured, his voice soft and low, a stark contrast to the yelling moments before. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Eunjae-ah. I didn't… I didn't understand."
He felt like a fool. He'd mistaken fierce, protective love for pity. He'd tried to push away the one person who was willing to stand in the fire with him.
Eunjae buried his face in Daon's neck, his tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt. Between hiccupping sobs, the words kept tumbling out, a desperate, broken mantra. "I love you… I love you… I love you…"
Each repetition was a plea, a confession, and an apology all at once. He clung to Daon as if he were the only solid thing in a world that had gone mad.
Daon held him tighter, his own eyes stinging. "I know," he whispered into Eunjae's hair. "I know you do. I'm sorry. I hear you now." He kept rubbing his back, letting him cry, absorbing his pain. The grand, silent estate faded away, leaving only the two of them in their room, surrounded by the aftermath of a fight that had finally revealed the profound, messy, beautiful truth at its core.
Eunjae's sobs gradually quieted to shaky hiccups. He pulled back just enough to look up at Daon, his face blotchy and tear-streaked, his eyes red and swimming with emotion. Daon's heart clenched. With a tenderness he usually reserved for hidden moments, he gently cupped Eunjae's face, his thumbs carefully wiping away the tracks of tears.
Their eyes locked. The air, once charged with anger, was now thick with something else—something raw, vulnerable, and incredibly fragile.
Daon leaned in slowly, giving Eunjae every chance to pull away. He pressed his lips to Eunjae's in a kiss that was nothing like their usual passionate clashes. This was soft. Gentle. A question, an apology, and a promise all woven together.
For a heartbeat, Eunjae was still, surprised by the unexpected tenderness. Then, with a soft, shuddering sigh that melted into the kiss, he responded. His hands came up, sliding from Daon's chest to wrap around his neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss from a hesitant touch into a silent, desperate conversation.
It was a kiss of forgiveness, of understanding, and of a love that was finally, truly being seen for the fierce, protective force it was. They held onto each other, the outside world and its troubles forgotten, finding solace and strength in the one thing that had become undeniably clear: they were in this together, no matter what.
The world inside the parked car was hot, humid, and utterly consumed. The windows were fogged, sealing them in their own private, desperate universe. Streetlights outside cast a dim, hazy glow through the misted glass. In the back seat, Taemin was a vision of feverish intensity beneath Juwon. His skin, still flushed from his illness, was slick with a fresh sheen of sweat. His head was thrown back against the leather seat, his eyes squeezed shut, a string of ragged, pleading moans falling from his lips with every one of Juwon's movements. "J-Juwon... ah....."
Above him, Juwon was trembling, his muscles straining with the effort. His own breaths were sharp, ragged gasps. It was overwhelming, almost too much, the sensations threatening to short-circuit his brain. But the sight of Taemin like this-alive, wanting, his-was a potent drug. He wouldn't stop. He couldn't. He braced one hand against the car door for leverage, the other gripping Taemin's hip hard enough to leave bruises, anchoring himself as he ride him again and again. The car rocked gently with their rhythm.
"Taemin... ah, God..." Juwon choked out, his voice a broken whisper. His body was screaming in protest and ecstasy, every nerve ending on fire. He was falling apart, hurtling toward the edge, completely lost in the feel of the man beneath him, in the raw, animalistic need to erase every bit of pain and replace it with this, with them. There was no past, no future, only the pounding present, the smell of sex and sweat, and the shared, trembling precipice they were about to fall over together.
Taemin, fueled by a mix of pent-up frustration, feverish energy, and raw need, had taken control. His hands gripped Juwon's hips firmly, guiding him, setting a relentless, deep rhythm that stole the air from both their lungs. "T-Taemin-ah!" Juwon cried out, his voice a strangled scream that was swallowed by the confines of the car. His fingers dug into Taemin's shoulders, nails biting through the fabric of his shirt as he held on for dear life. The angle was too much, the friction too intense, pushing him far past his limits with breathtaking speed.
His body was a trembling, overwhelmed mess. He could feel the coil of pleasure tightening to an unbearable degree, a pressure building that was both excruciating and ecstatic. "I-I can't-!" he gasped, his vision spotting. His legs kicked out weakly, his entire body jerking and shuddering with the force of the sensations rocketing through him. "Stop... please... Taemin, I'll- I'll go crazy..." he begged, his voice cracking, tears of overstimulation welling in his eyes. He was completely at Taemin's mercy, lost in a whirlwind of sensation that was rapidly stripping away every last shred of his control. It was too much, and yet not enough, all at once.