By Zephyria 
Haon came to a halt in front of a massive display cabinet and looked closely at each frame. Inside eight small frames were photos of young children with small builds. They weren’t group photos, but individual portraits.
At first glance from a distance, he thought they were photos of the man’s own childhood. However, the photos in the frames were of children the man sponsored. Children with dark skin and clear eyes. Having seen public service announcements on TV encouraging sponsorships, Haon recognized what the photos were immediately.
Some children were frowning as if the light were too bright, while others wore bright smiles that made it easy to imagine the sound of their laughter. On the wall of the shelf where the frames sat, there was also an album embossed with the seal of the sponsorship foundation. Since it was slightly open, unable to resist his curiosity, Haon carefully pried open the first page, only to find photos of the children as they had grown.
It seemed photos were sent every year as the children grew. And the man kept every single one of them in the album. Sponsoring eight children was impressive enough, but Haon was even more moved by the tenderness with which he preserved their photos.
As he felt frequently, he was truly a good person.
Today, as always, Haon gently wiped the dust around the frames, making eye contact with each child in the photos. How is the weather there? I hope it’s not too hot. He spoke to them silently in his head, his expression somewhat subdued.
In truth, even after deciding to stay at the man’s house, a sense of doubt hadn’t entirely vanished. On the way here, after packing up his things from the gosiwon, he had spent a long time worrying, glancing at the man’s reaction, wondering if this was really okay.
Just how much did this man love helping others to go this far? He couldn’t fathom a man who was willing to stay by his side even through his unsightly estrus.
But not anymore.
Looking at these frames, the chaotic emotions in a corner of his heart slowly settled. In the man’s eyes, it seemed Haon was not much different from the children in the photos. The kindness he bestowed upon him was indeed simple goodwill.
After looking around the spacious house—a place he still hadn’t adjusted to despite seeing it every day—he thought: I want to donate a lot and live helping people in need someday, too.
Haon wanted to be like the man. He wanted to become a wonderful adult like him and repay the kindness he had received in any way possible. He didn’t know yet what exactly he could do, but he wanted to do everything.
Gurgle.
Startled by the faint sound echoing from his stomach, Haon dropped the cleaning cloth. With a panicked face, he rubbed his lean stomach, checking to see if the sound would recur. Fortunately, his stomach was silent.
He picked up the cloth from the floor and let out a sigh of relief. Haon reacted sensitively even to a small stomach growl.
One can be hungry even when it’s not a heat cycle. But now, the moment he felt even a hint of hunger, he quickly became anxious. His mouth went dry, wondering if an unpredictable estrus had arrived.
“Not yet…”
At least for the next month, he should be fine. He couldn’t be certain, but he had never had another heat break out within a single month. Or had he?
Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, Haon felt relieved as his appetite vanished, and he washed the cloth clean. The food the man made was so delicious that his appetite seemed to return as dinner approached. For Haon, this was an unwelcome symptom.
In-ho, who was obsessed with increasing Haon’s weight, would be pleased, but Haon was not. When hunger struck, his heart raced first. To avoid feeling hunger, he always made sure to drink things like soy milk even when he had no appetite. When he didn’t even want to do that, he drank plenty of water. So much that his stomach felt full.
“Oh.”
Just then, the sound of the door lock at the entrance made Haon’s gloomy face brighten. After being alone in the house all day, the sound of someone’s presence was very welcome.
“Welcome home!”
Haon ran to the entrance and greeted him loudly. Since the house was so large, he intentionally raised his voice, fearing his small voice wouldn’t be heard. The man, entering through the inner door, welcomed Haon’s greeting with a soft smile, as he did every day.
“Yes, I’m home.”
* * *
Lately, In-ho had been in a good mood. “Lately” only spanned about a week, but for him, having such a continuous streak of clear days was a very rare occurrence.
Had this ever happened before? Thinking back, no particular memory came to mind. It was probably a first.
In-ho’s mood was always lukewarm. While the people and situations surrounding him were always hot and sharp, In-ho himself had lived feeling as though he were submerged in lukewarm water.
An ambiguous temperature, neither hot nor cold. Except for his very early childhood, he had always suffered from that temperature.
“Shall we stop here?”
In-ho, who had been eating the perfectly boiled pasta with satisfaction, put down his fork shortly after. The food had not yet decreased by half.
Though he had made it himself, the steak, pasta, and salad were all flawless in taste. The meat was cooked just right, the pasta’s seasoning was perfect, and even the homemade salad dressing was excellent. However, the problem was the condition of his dining companion.
“Are you full…?”
Haon, who had been chewing the beef—which should have melted in his mouth—for a long time as if he were eating rubber, blinked. He had only taken a few bites of the pasta, which was well-soaked in sauce, to the point where one could count the number of noodles. Even an amount that would disappear in a few chews seemed to swell in Haon’s mouth, refusing to slide easily down his esophagus.
I guess today is a day when it’s hard for him to eat.
“Yes, I had a late lunch.”
That was a lie. In-ho had skipped both breakfast and lunch in anticipation of the dinner he would share with Haon. Of course, he didn’t usually eat much for breakfast, but he skipped lunch specifically so he could eat dinner well. He had made the effort, thinking that if he ate with gusto, Haon’s appetite would follow suit.
“Do you want to eat more, Haon-ssi?”
However, no matter how deliciously he ate or how perfect the food was, Haon’s appetite seemed unaffected. It seemed to depend solely on his physical condition. Or perhaps his mood.
“I…”
Haon trailed off, about to put down the fork he had been forcing himself to hold, but then he looked down at the beautifully laid-out food on the table.
“But there’s still a lot of food left.”
“I’ve tasted everything once, so it’s okay.”
In-ho thought that if the cook said it was okay, Haon would happily put down his fork. However, Haon’s reaction defied In-ho’s expectations.
“I’ll finish the rest and clean up. Please go up and rest.”
“…You’re going to keep eating?”
“Yes, it’s delicious.”
Despite saying that, he hadn’t even swallowed the meat remaining in his mouth. He didn’t have to force himself to eat.
“You’ll get indigestion.”
In-ho, who had instinctively picked up his fork following Haon’s lead, moved the largest piece of steak to his own plate. Since he wasn’t full at all, he could easily eat more.
“I don’t get indigestion often.”
He had been about to say, Because I eat slowly, but his voice trailed off as if he were about to choke. Watching Haon bow his head and gulp down the food that had been stuck in his throat, In-ho hurriedly pushed the water glass closer to him. He felt as though he had spoken to him unnecessarily while he was trying hard to eat.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, I think I just swallowed it wrong.”
To think there was still something left to swallow after chewing for so long. In-ho looked at Haon with a worried gaze and decided he should exclude steak from the menu in the future.
“I’m a bit of a slow eater.”
Haon reached for the plate again. Perhaps because the steak plate was right in front of him, he tried to pick up meat again after chewing for so long.
In-ho quickly pushed the salad plate toward him, suggesting he try some of that too. He slightly regretted placing the steak closer to Haon, having wanted to show off how perfectly it was grilled.
He also regretted telling him to eat a lot. He worried that Haon might feel pressured by his words and be trying to force himself to show an empty plate. In-ho let out a long sigh, looking at the generous portions of food that reflected his own excitement. Since Haon seemed to have eaten quite well until yesterday, he had made exactly two servings today without reducing the amount.
“If you’re full, stop eating. You don’t need to finish it all.”
“By the way… did you learn how to cook?”
Haon asked, chewing and swallowing the salmon salad.
“No, I’ve never formally learned.”
“I naturally assumed you had.”
“Wow,” Haon said, parting his moist lips and staring at In-ho again. Being accustomed to others’ gaze focusing on his face, In-ho calmly accepted the stare. However, no matter how used he was to attention, In-ho felt embarrassed when it became excessive. That was the case now.
“Haon-ssi.”
As the silence of Haon’s vacant stare stretched on, In-ho eventually spoke first. He had received many looks in his life, but this was the first time someone had spaced out while looking at his face.
“Which one tastes the best?”
At first, he thought Haon was scrutinizing his face for a long time, but looking closer, his focus was slightly blurred. It seemed he had fallen into a daydream while looking. If you’re going to look, at least focus.
“Which of these three suits your taste the most?”
As the dazed Haon regained his focus, In-ho repeated the question. After careful consideration, Haon cautiously pointed to the salmon salad he had served onto his plate. In-ho had already predicted the answer based on his eating speed.
“Do you usually like salads?”
“I’ve never bought them separately, but I think they’re easier to digest and easier to eat.”
So he likes food that is easy to digest and easy to eat. Okay.
Though the food preference didn’t particularly deviate from his expectations, In-ho noted it as if it were new information. Having figured out most of Haon’s personality, In-ho was now learning his preferences one by one. He still didn’t know much.
“Shall we watch a movie after we finish eating?”
He was intentionally approaching slowly. So that Haon wouldn’t feel burdened. Since Haon was likely already feeling enough pressure, he wanted to narrow the distance at a leisurely pace.
There was plenty of time to get close anyway. After all, they had agreed to live in the same house for a year and a half.
“I’d love to. Let’s definitely watch it today.”
Haon’s long eyes, which curved often, formed a pretty eye-smile. Because there was food in his mouth, he covered his mouth while laughing, making his eyes curve even more. It was to let In-ho know that he was smiling.
Seeing this, as if he had caught Haon’s habit, In-ho fixed his gaze on that gentle face for a moment. Then, suddenly realizing he had looked for too long, he took a sip of water.
“Eat a lot—no, eat a moderate amount.”
He finished the conversation while polishing off the remaining steak and pasta. In his heart, he wanted to share trivial stories throughout the meal, but for Haon, who couldn’t do two things at once, he kept his words to a minimum.
In-ho realized once again that there were many things to be mindful of when he was with Haon.
He had to adjust the amount of food based on Haon’s condition, and since he seemed prone to choking, he had to be careful when speaking during meals. In particular, since Haon would likely say everything was fine even if he wasn’t feeling it, observing his expressions closely was the most important part.
He was truly a high-maintenance type. Yet, it was strange that In-ho didn’t find it tedious at all.
In-ho secretly watched Haon chewing his food, hiding a smile beneath the hand propping up his chin. Every small act of taking care of Haon provided In-ho with a peculiar pleasure. In-ho hoped this interest would last as long as possible.