By Zephyria 
Even after getting into the elevator, Song Hyun-soo remained in a daze.
What was with that kissing timing? He was so caught up in his own thoughts that he completely lost his mind.
His lips, his mouth, and the spaces between his fingers.
A light tremor ran through him wherever Yoon Joo-ho’s touch lingered.
“If you feel wronged, try to remember this too.” If only he could. He wanted to remember it more desperately than anyone else in the world. What on earth happened that made him give such a kiss? If you can’t remember, you’ll die, Song Hyun-soo. There is only death.
Wait. But after giving someone a kiss like that before they went home, he wouldn’t really bring someone else over, would he? He wouldn’t, would he? He shouldn’t…
With a sigh that felt like the earth was caving in, Song Hyun-soo hit the back of his head against the elevator wall with a thud and looked up at the ceiling.
“‘Yes. It’s mine, and it’s my everything. That’s why I’ll never let it be taken away.’”
The echo of those words lingered in his ears with a deep resonance.
He knew it was said about Look Planning.
But if Yoon Joo-ho had said that to him, he felt he could overcome any difficulty in the world.
The feeling of his mood sinking endlessly and becoming troubled at the thought that the other person might sleep with someone else… It could be nothing other than affection.
As he passed through the lobby and stepped outside the mansion, the world sparkled everywhere due to the snow that had fallen overnight.
Sigh. Exhaling a breath that turned into white mist, Song Hyun-soo zipped up the jumper Yoon Joo-ho had gifted him, all the way up to his chin.
Winter was deepening.
Just as humans cannot stop the change of seasons, there was nothing that could be done about deepening emotions.
It was painful yet sweet. It was overwhelming yet also delightful. At least, it had been so far.
Even thinking of him as a ‘magnificent rooster atop an unscalable tree,’ he couldn’t stop.
Yoon Joo-ho. Even if he became a dog that could only crane its neck to look up at the roof, what a rooster worth chasing.
■■■
Left alone, Yoon Joo-ho first opened the living room window to ventilate. Feeling the sudden drop in indoor temperature, he looked for a robe.
Ah, he had given it to BB gun.
When he went to the practice room where Song Hyun-soo had changed, the robe he had taken off was neatly folded on the sofa. He chuckled and put it on.
He didn’t particularly enjoy wearing a robe because of the indoor temperature; it was a habit. Whether on a photoshoot set or a drama set, he often wore a robe for costume changes or to prevent his clothes from getting wrinkled while waiting. Thus, he had naturally become accustomed to and comfortable in robes.
One counselor had even babbled plausibly that this, too, was a symbol reflecting Yoon Joo-ho’s psychology of hiding his true self.
Wearing the robe Song Hyun-soo had worn, Yoon Joo-ho wandered around the house, humming a strange tune.
He closed the open window, turned on the air purifier in the living room, and headed to the bedroom. He also turned on the air purifier there, lit an incense stick, and drew back the curtains. Sunlight poured onto the accumulated snow, making the world sparkle.
Looking down towards the west, across the river, presumably in the direction of Song Hyun-soo’s home, Yoon Joo-ho leaned against the floor-to-ceiling window.
He had said he slept in the guest room, and while that wasn’t a lie,
Yoon Joo-ho had also lain on this very bed.
Despite having drunk quite a lot, Yoon Joo-ho’s memory of last night was vivid, unlike Song Hyun-soo’s.
“‘I was one of the victims too.’”
Yoon Joo-ho had known from the beginning that Song Hyun-soo was from UB. Song Hyun-soo himself had introduced himself that way.
However, he also knew that not all UB celebrities were victims of Myung Do-hoon, so he hadn’t paid much attention. But to think that Song Hyun-soo, who was right beside him, was one of the victims.
“‘Still, I survived. I survived, saw Lee Seo-kyung die, and now I’ve seen Myung Do-hoon die too.’”
Lee Seo-kyung.
The moment that name came out of Song Hyun-soo’s mouth, his composure was completely shattered for a moment. Yoon Joo-ho knew better than Song Hyun-soo that Lee Seo-kyung was a ‘perverted bastard who didn’t discriminate by gender or age, and had no regard for consequences.’
“‘Did you ever deal with Lee Seo-kyung?’”
Was I relieved when I heard the answer was no?
Thud. Yoon Joo-ho recoiled his shoulder, which had been leaning against the window, and tapped the window with his temple.
On the surface, Song Hyun-soo seemed fine. He was staggering, but not so much that he couldn’t walk without support, and when he came to Yoon Joo-ho’s house, he even took a shower by himself, saying he felt sticky all over.
Song Hyun-soo, who came out wearing only his boxer briefs, collapsed onto the bed, and Yoon Joo-ho threw his pajama pants at his face.
“Wear these.”
“I hate it, it’s stuffy.”
The drunken man, lying on his side, pulled the pajamas down and grinned.
“Wear them when I say so nicely?”
For some reason, Song Hyun-soo wrapped the pajamas around his neck like a scarf, then put them on his head, giggling. Then, he turned over and sprawled on his back, facing the ceiling, his laughter gradually subsiding.
This time, he covered his face with both hands and muttered painfully.
“I’ve… never been able to go to the memorial hall. November was the anniversary… I thought I could go then, but I couldn’t. I tried to go, but I couldn’t. I didn’t have the courage to go there…”
Whose memorial hall was he talking about? He didn’t need to ask; he already knew.
“I don’t know if me living well is for Hong-seo, or if me grieving more is for Hong-seo…”
Yoon Joo-ho, who had been watching the drunken man’s crying and laughing spectacle, let out a deep sigh and held the pajama pants in his hand. Then, he began to roughly put them on the lying Song Hyun-soo. Why am I doing this? What’s so pretty about him?
“Even in my dreams, that day repeats itself every time.”
“What day?”
“When I run out, he’s already gone from the alley. I clearly followed right after him.”
As if he hadn’t heard Yoon Joo-ho’s question, Song Hyun-soo rambled incoherently. Then, he covered his eyes with his arm.
“I wish he would come to my dreams and smile a little, and tell me he’s doing well… but it’s always the same dream.”
Tears flowed down towards his temples from under the arm covering his eyelids.
Yoon Joo-ho understood. Song Hyun-soo probably hadn’t been able to sleep since that incident.
“Lee Seo-kyung died, and Myung Do-hoon died too. Like you said, maybe your grievances have been somewhat resolved now. Stop crying. If you cry too much, your head will hurt tomorrow.”
As he roughly put on the pajamas and got up, Song Hyun-soo urgently grabbed Yoon Joo-ho’s wrist.
“Senior. Don’t go.”
He turned back while standing. In the dim light, Song Hyun-soo was half-sitting up, looking up at him.
“Just sleep here with me.”
He knew what those eyes were saying. It wasn’t simply a request to lie side-by-side and go to dreamland.
Nor was it a face starved of sexual desire. Those eyes, pleading as if about to burst into tears, conveyed loneliness and fear. A plea to lick each other’s wounds.
“I don’t have a hobby of serving someone I won’t even remember.”
“There’s no way you won’t remember.”
“Don’t be stubborn.”
“I remember everything. I will remember. Everything about you, senior.”
Looking down at the sulky, stubborn face, like a child’s, he sighed.
He said he would stay by his side only until he fell asleep, and then lay down on his back, looking at the ceiling. But Yoon Joo-ho regretted his decision almost as soon as he lay down.
Like many people, Song Hyun-soo became bold when drunk and started doing things he wouldn’t normally do.
His forehead, the bridge of his nose, his philtrum, his lips, his chin. He traced Yoon Joo-ho’s profile with his fingertips, then meticulously traced over his lips again.
“You said your sex drive gets stronger when you drink. Is that okay?”
“Take your hand away.”
“Give me a reward.”
“This is a situation where you should be punished, not rewarded?”
Yoon Joo-ho parted his lips and bared his teeth, clicking them towards Song Hyun-soo’s fingers. And Song Hyun-soo, as if playing a fun game, repeatedly brought his fingers close to his lips and then pulled them away, giggling.
Honestly, his body and mind were not unmoved by that laughter.
“You promised to give me a reward if I did well on the shoot.”
“Didn’t you say you had 30 NG’s? Then what reward?”
“Still, give me one. Don’t be so stingy.”
“My rewards aren’t that cheap.”
“You wanted to kiss me anyway, using the reward as an excuse, didn’t you? Or not?”
“……”
Yoon Joo-ho snatched Song Hyun-soo’s wrist and gripped it tightly.
The tables turned instantly, and the next moment, Yoon Joo-ho was on top of Song Hyun-soo’s stomach. With the wrist he held pinned to the pillow.
“If you want it that badly, I’ll give you a reward.”
“Really?”
“Do you want it now? Or after you wake up tomorrow?”
“Now…”
Song Hyun-soo, about to answer “now” without a second thought, had his lips covered by Yoon Joo-ho’s palm.
“Think carefully.”
Song Hyun-soo, who had been pondering with rolling eyes, finally pushed away Yoon Joo-ho’s hand covering his lips.
“Then let’s go.”
And then he pushed Yoon Joo-ho off the bed.
“If you’re next to me, I won’t have the self-control to not touch you.”
That’s how Yoon Joo-ho was almost kicked out of the bed.
“Make sure you keep your promise tomorrow.”
After insisting on it himself, he ended up not remembering that promise either. He really likes remembering everything about his senior. Maybe I should add a clause about not drinking excessively to the contract.
Yoon Joo-ho, with his hands in the robe pockets, chuckled and turned away from the window. Just then, the doorbell rang.