Do-won yawned, the sound soft and tired as he rubbed at his eyes. The glow of his phone screen showed it was well past midnight.
"I'm going to sleep," he murmured, voice low and heavy with exhaustion. "I have to wake up early tomorrow. It's… really important."
Il-ju-yo, lounging at the far end of the couch with one arm draped over the backrest, let out a quiet hum. "Hmm. Sleep well, then."
Do-won nodded faintly, already sinking into the mattress as he rolled onto his side. The room was dim, the only light spilling from the hallway, and the familiar scent of Il-ju-yo's cologne lingered in the air like a quiet promise. It always made sleep come easier—safer, warmer somehow.His breathing slowed, eyelids dropping as the pull of dreams tugged at him.
Then, without warning, strong arms circled him from behind.
A solid chest pressed flush against his back, heat seeping through thin fabric. Warm breath ghosted over the sensitive skin at his nape, followed by the faintest brush of lips—just enough to send a shiver racing down his spine.
Do-won's eyes fluttered open, still fogged with sleep. Heart thudding slowly, he turned his head just enough to look over his shoulder.
Il-ju-yo.
The older man was gazing at him with that expression—the one that always undid him. Wide, pleading eyes shimmering in the low light, lower lip caught gently between teeth, face softened into something so helplessly needy it looked almost painful. Like a puppy left out in the rain, begging to be let in.
Il-ju-yo's voice came out hushed, rough at the edges, barely above a whisper.
"I know tomorrow is important for you," he breathed, arms tightening ever so slightly, fingers curling possessively into the fabric of Do-won's shirt. "I know. But…"
He leaned in closer, nose brushing the shell of Do-won's ear, lips hovering dangerously near.
"…can we just kiss a little? Just for a minute. I'm burning up right now." A shaky exhale. "I need you, Do-won. Please."
The words vibrated against his skin, low and desperate, sending heat pooling low in Do-won's stomach. Il-ju-yo's thigh slid between his under the blanket, a subtle press that made Do-won's breath hitch.
Do-won's resolve crumbled the moment those pleading words left Il-ju-yo's lips.
He turned fully in the circle of those arms, facing the man who always knew exactly how to unravel him. Their foreheads touched first—soft, tentative—then Il-ju-yo closed the last breath of distance and kissed him.
It started slow, almost careful, as if Il-ju-yo was savoring the permission he'd been granted. Lips brushed, parted, met again—warm, coaxing, tasting faintly of the mint tea he'd been drinking earlier. Do-won's hands found their way to Il-ju-yo's chest, fingers curling into the soft fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer without thinking.
Il-ju-yo made a low sound in his throat, approval and hunger mixed, and the kiss deepened. His tongue slid along Do-won's lower lip, asking, then taking when Do-won opened for him with a shaky exhale. Heat flared everywhere they touched—chest to chest, thigh pressed between thighs, hands roaming with growing urgency.
Between kisses, Il-ju-yo pulled back just enough to speak, lips still grazing Do-won's as the words spilled out, rough and possessive.
"I'm so damn possessive of your eyes," he whispered, voice dark, breath hot against Do-won's mouth. "Never… never look at anyone else like this. This look—the one that says you're completely in love—those eyes are only for me."
Do-won's heart slammed against his ribs. He tried to answer, but Il-ju-yo didn't let him. Instead, he caught Do-won's lower lip gently between his teeth and bit down—not hard enough to break skin, but sharp enough to sting, to claim.
A jolt of pain-pleasure shot through Do-won like lightning.
His eyes flew open wide.
The warm body against his vanished. The soft lips, the possessive whisper, the lingering bite—all of it dissolved in an instant.
Do-won stared up at the ceiling of his dark bedroom, fan spinning lazily overhead. The sheets beside him were cold and empty. His chest rose and fell rapidly, lips still tingling from a kiss that had happened months ago.
His breath came in shallow, uneven bursts as the memory slipped away, leaving him cold and alone in the dark.
His heart was still pounding too hard, like it hadn't realized the kiss was only a ghost. The phantom sting on his lower lip throbbed in time with his pulse.
With a shaky exhale, he pushed himself up on one elbow, reaching blindly for the pack of cigarettes on the nightstand. His fingers closed around it, pulled one out, and lit it with trembling hands. The flame flared briefly, illuminating his face—pale, tense, eyes too wide in the darkness.
He took a long drag, letting the smoke fill his lungs, burn just enough to ground him in the present. Then he leaned back against the headboard, running a hand through his long hair, tangling his fingers in the strands as if he could pull the memories out along with them.
"You can't keep living in the past, Do-won," he muttered to himself, voice rough and quiet in the empty room. "Move forward. Don't forget what he did—how he ruined your life."
Another drag. The smoke curled toward the ceiling like the ghosts he couldn't shake.
"Don't forget," he whispered again, eyes fixed on nothing.
The End