Chapter 11
The morning light filtered through the curtains like a quiet scolding. Too soft to be rude, but just bright enough to be annoying. Gyu In stirred, eyes blinking against the brightness. Exhaustion clung to him, heavy and stubborn, but it didn't stop him from moving.
His own fatigue lingered faintly at the edges, yet it wasn't what mattered now. Something else pulled at him.
He blinked.
And then blinked again.
There was a shape slumped at the side of his bed. Vaguely human, folded awkwardly against the mattress like a discarded throw pillow.
"…What the hell."
Eun Wol.
His head tilted at an impossible angle, body curled as if he had tried to sit upright but lost to sleep halfway through. His hair was a chaotic mess, strands puffed from gravity and restlessness. One sock clung halfway down his foot. His mouth hung open just enough for a small snore to escape - an offense to the silence, though a tiny one.
Gyu In's heart stuttered, a strange tangle of surprise, fondness, and sharp-edged panic.
Had something happened?
He shifted, groaning softly. The sound made Eun Wol stir, though not enough to wake.
Carefully, Gyu In slid his arms beneath him. The familiar weight settled against his chest, steady and warm. His migraine still clawed at the edges of his skull, but it no longer mattered. For now, keeping Eun Wol safe mattered more.
He carried him onto the bed, laying him down gently. For a moment, he stood there, staring at the slow rise and fall of Eun Wol's chest. His heart tightened with something he couldn't name. Anxiety, maybe. Or something even more dangerous.
The throbbing behind his eyes crept higher, but he ignored it.
How much space had this man already taken in his mind?
It had been meant to be a contract, clean and transactional. Yet Eun Wol felt anything but simple. He carried a quiet gravity, pulling everything into his orbit. And for someone like Gyu In, who built his life on control, that was terrifying.
He sighed softly and turned toward the kitchen.
Ten minutes later, the kitchen resembled a battlefield. Burnt toast smouldered in the sink. A rubbery omelette clung pitifully to the pan. Something had boiled over and hissed in protest.
"Enough," Gyu In muttered, pressing his fingers to his temples.
Defeated, he reached for his phone. "At least someone knows how to cook," he grumbled, scrolling for delivery.
On the bed, Eun Wol stirred. His lashes fluttered open to unfamiliar softness. The pillow smelled faintly of clean linen, threaded with a note of Gyu In. His shoulders tensed.
He blinked into the muted light, heart jumping when he realized where he was. White sheets. Quiet walls.
This was Gyu In's bed.
A nervous laugh threatened to break in his throat, but he swallowed it. The last thing he remembered was collapsing at the edge of the mattress. Somehow he had ended up tucked beneath a blanket.
Heat crept up his neck. Did Gyu In carry him here?
The thought unsettled him, hovering between embarrassment and something warmer he didn't want to name.
His gaze roamed the room. Minimalist, but not cold. Books stacked neatly beside the bed. A jacket hanging over a chair. Curtains shifting lazily in the breeze.
Then his eyes caught on the nightstand. A simple black frame.
Inside, a younger Gyu In smiled wide, hair longer, eyes lit with an ease Eun Wol had never seen on him. His arm wrapped securely around a woman who laughed into his shoulder, so close it almost looked like they were sharing a secret.
Something twisted low in Eun Wol's chest.
He told himself it was nothing. Just a picture. Just the past. Yet his eyes refused to move, caught on the curve of Gyu In's grin - so carefree, so unguarded. A version of him Eun Wol doubted he would ever see.
His face stayed unreadable, but his jaw tightened. His hand curled faintly in the blanket, a grip he didn't notice until the sound from outside snapped him out of it.
He tore his gaze away too quickly, the afterimage of the smile still burning in his mind as he slipped quietly out of bed. Out of the bedroom.
And stopped short.
On the dining table sat a spread that looked like it belonged in a magazine. Soup simmering in a pot, rows of banchan laid neatly, egg rolls sliced with precision, rice steaming in domes of perfection. Homey, comforting, almost suspiciously picturesque.
"…Did you make all of this?" His voice came out slow, uncertain.
From behind the kitchen island, Gyu In lifted his head, expression blank.
"Does reheating soup count?"
Eun Wol stared.
"The delivery guy just left," Gyu In added flatly. "You're welcome."
Eun Wol's lips twitched, betraying the laughter threatening to escape. The air shifted, lightened. He reached for a spoon.
"Well. You picked good."
*
Breakfast passed in quiet, the kind of silence that felt easy. Neither of them wanted to be the one to break it.
At least, not until Eun Wol started getting mildly irritated.
Gyu In was pecking at his food like a sparrow. A sparrow who just happened to be six feet and an inch tall.
(Not even that much taller than me, Eun Wol thought absently.)
Last I checked, I was six feet myself. How can this man eat like that...
He narrowed his eyes. "Are you still not feeling well? Why are you eating your food like this?"
Caught off guard, Gyu In blinked, then looked away. "No, I feel much better. I just thought you might be hungrier. I usually don't eat much."
"You feeding pig, is it?"
Gyu In almost choked, laughter sparking in his eyes.
"You don't eat much in the morning. You don't eat much in the afternoon. You skip dinner. What are you?"
He laughed under his breath. "You sound like a mum."
"Hey!"
"I'm just not a food lover. But I do eat. Just enough to be full." His voice softened. "Yesterday was just my usual migraine. Nothing to worry about. But really… thank you."
The sincerity threw Eun Wol off balance.
He looked down at his rice. "I… just make sure you take care of yourself."
They didn't say much after that. Not because it was awkward, but because nothing more seemed necessary.
When they finished, Eun Wol stacked his plate lazily. "I'll wash these."
Gyu In waved him off. "Don't need. I'll clear."
He moved with practiced ease, packing leftovers into containers, sliding them into the fridge without fuss. Eun Wol leaned against the counter, watching quietly. For once, the man didn't look like a vice president. He just looked… ordinary. At home. Comfortable.
Then, out of nowhere ...
"You got any work tonight?" Gyu In asked.
Eun Wol raised a brow. "No. Why?"
"I also don't have," Gyu In said, almost guiltily, closing the fridge.
"Huh? But Hae Won said you're usually drowning in schedules."
He shrugged, casual to the point of suspicious. "I didn't feel like working today."
"…Who are you?" Eun Wol squinted at him. "Are you sure you're not sick?"
"No. Just… since you're free, and I'm magically free… want to go out?"
That made Eun Wol pause. "Go where?"
"Anywhere. Fresh air. Better than rotting at home."
Eun Wol looked away. His fingers tugged at his sleeve out of habit. "I don't really feel like going out."
Gyu In didn't look surprised. He simply nodded, as if he had expected that answer.
"Okay. Then how about a movie afternoon?"
"Movie?"
"Here. I have a projector. Popcorn too. It's a good plan."
"…You skipped work for this?"
"I didn't," he said a little too quickly. "But it's better than sitting here watching each other breathe."
Eun Wol stared at him.
"What movie?"
"Disney," Gyu In suggested. "Something light."
Eun Wol squinted. "…You like cartoons?"
Gyu In gave him the flattest stare. "No. But I thought you might."
Eun Wol didn't answer. Just sat back down, chest tight in a way he didn't want to name. "…Okay."
Gyu In disappeared into his bedroom, returning moments later with a pair of shorts and a shirt.
"Here. Wash up and wear these." He pressed the clothes into Eun Wol's arms before turning away to set up the projector. "By the time you're out, the movie will be ready."
Eun Wol opened his mouth, wanting to say it wasn't necessary, that he was fine in yesterday's clothes. Unless Gyu In thought he smelled.
But when he looked over, Gyu In only said, without turning, "You'll be more comfortable. Go ahead."
True to his words, when Eun Wol stepped out of the bathroom, the projector was already humming in the living room. Two cups of tea sat on the table, steam curling gently upward. A bowl of popcorn waited beside them.
Eun Wol raised a brow. "Where do you even get popcorn?"
"I always keep snacks around," Gyu In replied.
"So you eat snacks instead of real food."
"Don't mind the details."
The faint buzz of a phone cut in.
[Hae Won]
Received: Sir Kim, are you coming in soon?
Received: Mr Lee from Vivid Entertainment will be arriving in another 45 minutes.
Gyu In's hand hovered above the screen too long. His expression didn't move, but Eun Wol caught it from the corner of his eye.
Then, with quiet decisiveness, Gyu In typed:
Reschedule it.
I can't make it. Something important came up.
Thank you.
He placed the phone face down.
The movie hadn't even started, but Eun Wol already felt… quiet inside.
"Now keep quiet, the movie is starting," Gyu In said in a mock-stern tone.
Eun Wol side-eyed him, saving his breath.
The one who asked for quiet turned out to be the loudest.
He wasn't unfamiliar with the movie. His sister had forced him to sit through it countless times.
Gyu In hummed along to the songs, startlingly accurate despite the years.
"Did you watch a lot of Disney movies when you were young?" Eun Wol asked.
"Yeah." Gyu In's eyes stayed on the screen. "My sister used to make me play dress-up with her. But that was ages ago. I barely remember now."
He smiled faintly as the princess twirled and sang among rough-looking men, her joy undimmed.
"This was my favourite," he said softly. "She was so brave to escape the tower."
"Didn't she get caught later by the mother?" Eun Wol murmured. "I used to watch all these too. With my little sister."
"Oh?" Gyu In turned slightly, curious. "Guess we were both victims of our sisters. Mine just happened to be the older one."
Older sister.
Eun Wol thought back to the photo frame he had seen in the bedroom that morning. The younger Gyu In, smiling with his arm around a woman.
Could it have been her?
Or someone else?
The thought pressed heavy at the back of his mind. His lips parted, but he held back. It wasn't his place to ask.
What if she wasn't a sister at all… but someone more?
"Are you close with your sister?" Gyu In asked again, his voice quieter this time. "It's been a while since I last saw mine. We used to be a lot closer… back when responsibilities weren't this heavy."
A dry laugh escaped him. "Now I'm just left with one dumb photo of us together."
He nudged Eun Wol lightly, trying to shift the focus away from himself. "What about you? What does your sister do? Same line of work as you?"
"None of your business."
The words came out sharper than Eun Wol intended. His chest tightened at once. He rubbed the back of his neck, flustered. "Sorry. I didn't mean it like that. It's just…"
His voice faltered, swallowed by the cartoon's bright chatter.
"I overstepped. You don't have to apologise," Gyu In said quickly — too quickly. His tone stayed steady, but something behind it wavered, as if he was pressing down on a bruise no one else could see.
Eun Wol bit his lip, torn between explaining and retreating. The silence stretched, thick with everything unsaid.
"You don't owe me anything," Gyu In added, soft but distant. It was polite, painfully so — the kind of politeness used to keep people out.
Eun Wol glanced sideways, hoping to catch his eyes, but Gyu In didn't turn. He sat unnaturally still, shoulders held too straight, gaze locked on the screen as if the cartoon could keep him from unraveling.
Something small and fragile in Eun Wol gave way. "I've got something on later," he murmured.
"Sure." The reply came without pause, clipped clean, leaving no room to linger.
The cartoon kept singing, but the space between them felt colder than silence.
When Eun Wol left, Gyu In remained on the sofa, motionless. The colours from the screen washed over his face in restless waves, but his expression stayed blank. It was easier that way. He didn't move until the credits rolled, then dragged himself to his room, each step heavy.
The photo frame sat waiting on the desk. He touched the glass, thumb brushing the smile he hadn't seen in years.
"If you were still here," he whispered, voice frayed, "you'd probably be yelling at him for me. Or slapping me for being so damn soft."
His hand dropped away. "I'm not built for this, noona."
*
Eun Wol slammed his own door shut, harder than intended. The quiet of his apartment didn't comfort him. Somehow, it closed in, accusing.
He tossed his keys onto the table and sank to the edge of his bed, fingers digging into his thighs to hold himself steady.
"Why did I say that?" His voice cracked in the emptiness. The regret pressed sharp and heavy.
He thought of Gyu In's face. Not angry, not cold. Just blank. Blank in a way that hurt more than if he had shouted.
His phone glowed on the nightstand. He stared, torn between picking it up and leaving it alone.
The screen lit up.
[Eun Bin]
Received: Oppa, I am so tired.
His breath hitched. He called immediately, fingers trembling. The ringing stretched on, unanswered.
A spike of panic shot through him. He snatched up his mask and cap, shoved his feet into his shoes, and rushed out the door.
Wherever Eun Bin was, he had to find her.