Chapter 14
The sudden weight on his lips sent Gyu In's thoughts scattering. He didn't even know what he'd been thinking about to begin with.
He froze. The fridge hummed somewhere in the background. The clock ticked on the wall. Everything felt distant, as if someone had turned the volume down on the world. His arms did not lift. His breath hitched and stuck in his throat. He could not move.
Eun Wol's kiss was anything but gentle. It was sharp and wild, teeth clashing for a second before lips met properly, if they met at all. His hands did not touch Gyu In. They clenched at his sides, trembling from all the things he could not say. He did not close his eyes. His brows were furrowed, jaw tight, as if he were holding in the scream lodged at the base of his throat.
He hated this. He hated how Gyu In had sat with him through all the silence, how he had sat through the trembling hands, through the nightmare that left him gasping in the hallway minutes ago. How Gyu In had not asked questions. Had not pulled away. Had only stared with that maddening calm, like he was something fragile that would not shatter if handled gently enough.
Why are you not stopping me? Why are you still here now? Do you even know what you are doing to me?
Eun Wol closed his eyes for a breath and pushed in harder, as if pressure could force a fraction of the storm inside him into the other man. Still Gyu In did not move. He did not push him away. He did not kiss him back. He let himself be kissed, swallowed by the quiet fury that crashed into him.
The kiss was not for Gyu In. It was a soundless scream: frustration, grief, shame, a desperate need braided through it. And somewhere in the mess, hidden and fragile, a thread of hope so thin it hurt to look at.
When they finally parted, the room felt heavier than before. The air clung to their skin, thick with everything left unsaid.
Eun Wol bent forward, breath stuttering, shoulders trembling from more than exertion. He did not look at Gyu In. He could not.
His breath remained ragged. His chest rose and fell as if he could not catch air no matter how much he tried. The silence after the kiss widened until it roared, dense and almost choking.
And Gyu In just stood there. Calm. Quiet. His expression unreadable, as it always was. That same maddening stillness.
Eun Wol laughed, a dry, broken sound that did not reach his eyes. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
Gyu In blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in tone. "Like what?"
"Like you are not surprised." His voice cracked, heavy with accusation. "Like you already expected this. Like you are above it."
"I am not—"
"You think you are so composed, do you not?" Eun Wol's words came sharp, but his voice carried more exhaustion than fire. "Sitting there all calm, watching me fall apart. Does it make you feel good? Being steady while I'm… this?"
Gyu In's jaw tightened. "That is not what I am doing."
"You don't even get it." Eun Wol's laugh was hollow, scraping the back of his throat. "You walk around in your clean suits, your careful words like nothing has ever touched you. Nothing has ever broken you. And look at me." His hand lifted, trembling, a bitter gesture toward himself. "I can't even hold myself together for one night."
Gyu In inhaled, quiet, steady. "You do not know anything about my life."
"No, I don't." His voice cracked, softer now, and it stung more than the anger. "Because you don't show anything. You just stand there, above all this. Above me."
"I never said that."
"You don't have to," Eun Wol whispered, bitterness dragging each word. "You being here... calm, patient, kind. It's worse than if you just left. It's humiliating. I kissed you like a lunatic and you… you didn't even flinch." His lips twisted in something that wasn't quite a smile. "Of course you didn't."
Gyu In's voice lowered, rough around the edges. "What did you want me to do? Push you away? Yell? Hit you?"
"I wanted you to break." The words fell out bitter and ugly, heavier than anger. "Just once. I wanted you to lose control. I wanted you to feel as pathetic as I do."
Silence. Heavy and dense.
Gyu In looked at him then, and something in his eyes finally cracked. Not anger. Not pity. Something darker. Sadder.
"Do you think I haven't?" he said quietly. "Do you think calm means untouched? That I haven't broken? That I'm not breaking right now?"
The room held its breath. The single bulb above them hummed faintly, a small, useless witness to everything that felt like it was falling apart.
Eun Wol flinched, and suddenly the anger in him twisted into something hollow.
He turned away, fists clenching as his voice fell to a whisper. "You weren't supposed to see me like this."
The words felt small and furious, like breaking glass that he couldn't sweep up.
"You think I wanted to?" Gyu In said, just as soft. "You think watching someone you—" He stopped. Swallowed. "You think this is easy?"
The unfinished sentence hung there, a thing both of them felt but could not name.
Eun Wol didn't answer. Couldn't. His vision was blurring at the edges, and his throat felt too tight.
He tasted salt and the sour tang of old alcohol every time he swallowed. The apartment felt too loud and too empty at once.
Gyu In wanted to step forward.
He wanted to pull Eun Wol into a hug, to anchor him, to erase the haunted look in his eyes. Even after everything Eun Wol had thrown at him. Those words were sharp, heavy, and untrue. He still wanted to close the distance between them.
But he didn't.
The muscles in Gyu In's jaw tightened. He folded his hands uncertainly at his sides, as if the distance between them needed to be measured by breath and not by words.
He couldn't do much when he didn't even know who Eun Wol really was. He couldn't do anything when Eun Wol kept every door locked, every wall up. When he refused to let Gyu In in.
"I never thought this was easy," Gyu In said, voice low.
His throat was tight. He forced the words out anyway. Gyu In's eyes flickered, sharp beneath the calm.
"I'm not a saint," he said quietly, voice rough around the edges. "I can be angry. I can lose control. I can yell and storm out. Believe me."
The confession landed like an admission from someone who had practiced hardness and found it hollow.
He let the words hang between them, heavy and real.
"But I'm not doing that. Not because I'm better than you. Not because I have it all together."
He took a breath, steadying himself, even as his heart thudded unevenly.
"I'm doing this for you. Because I want to understand you, even when it's hard. Especially when it's hard."
His fingers twitched at his sides, the tension in his posture barely contained.
"But you have to know this isn't easy for me either. I'm not immune to the cracks. I'm not… unbreakable."
The quiet filled with the sound of Gyu In's restrained breath, the muscles under his collarbone moving with an honesty his face didn't allow.
"What isn't easy? You have everything. You were born with it. Name, power, a future. You can afford to be kind. You can afford to care."
Eun Wol's voice broke on the list, the accusation like a score he had been keeping for years.
Gyu In finally raised his voice not loud, but enough to land heavy.
"Don't reduce me to where I came from."
The words came out like a shield, sudden and sharp. For a second, both of them stood behind their words and the walls those words built.
"Why not? That's all anyone ever does to me." Eun Wol's voice rose, hoarse. "Do you even want to help me? Or do you just want to feel like you're better than the man breaking in front of you?"
The question hung between them, raw and daring.
"Stop it, Eun Wol—"
"No. Because you can walk away and nothing changes for you. You still have a life. Me? I go back to silence and nightmares. I go back to guilt and rot and pretending it doesn't hurt."
He swallowed. The sentence scraped something in him raw.
His hands were shaking now, clenched at his sides.
"And still," he whispered, "you look at me like I'm the one being unfair."
There was a beat of silence. And then:
"I never said I understood your pain," Gyu In said, voice low and tired. "I never claimed to be your answer."
The words settled, final and humble. They were not absolution. They were not a promise. They were simply truth pushed into the space between them, where both of them could feel its weight.
"Then why are you still here?"
"Because I care."
Eun Wol's laugh scraped low, disbelieving.
"You don't even know me."
Gyu In blew out a breath, more weary than angry. His gaze dropped to the floor, then rose again.
"You're right about one thing. I don't know you. Not fully. And maybe that's why I can't help you the way you want me to."
He turned slightly toward the hallway.
"I'm stepping out. Not because I'm giving up. Because I want to be someone you can trust to stay even when you tell me to leave."
And then he walked.
No door slam. No dramatic exit. Just the quiet scrape of footsteps retreating, leaving Eun Wol in the hollow kitchen, trembling with a heart still clawing its way out of his chest.
His knees gave first. He folded forward, palms flat against the cool tile as though it might ground him. The words he'd thrown blurred in his head, twisted threads he couldn't untangle. He hadn't meant to be like this. So sharp, so selfish, so unbearably himself.
Each breath caught shallow.
Had he really said those things?
Did he want Gyu In to hate him?
Or was he desperate for it because being hated felt safer than risking love?
*
Outside, Gyu In pressed his palms against his face, muffling a raw exhale. Eun Wol's voice still rang inside him shards, trembling edges. He didn't know whether to wait for sobs or silence, only that leaving outright felt wrong. Not yet.
He rubbed his hands together without thinking, nerves twitching restless in his fingers. The hallway blurred with footsteps passing, light shifting, time dragging. He heard nothing from inside. In the end, he pulled out his phone, opened a delivery app, and ordered something light.
Minutes later, he ducked into a corner when the courier arrived. Watched the man rang once, twice, thrice until the door cracked open. A hand slipped out, pale and shaking, to take the bag.
That was when Gyu In finally turned away.