DP Side Story 2, Episode 21
by BrieDeep Pivot Side Story 2, Episode 21
Yeon-woo listened quietly to Eric and slowly nodded. A faint smile spread across his face.
「Why are you smiling?」
「No reason.」
In truth, Yeon-woo was holding back a laugh in front of Eric. He’d remembered the way the Lieutenant used to always say he wanted to swallow him.
‘If I could, I’d swallow you whole and carry you in my belly.’
‘Yeon-woo, you’re really the kind of person I want to keep in my stomach.’
Something too precious to ever lose. That was why Seo-joon had wanted to keep him tucked safely away like something valuable—deep in his belly. It was so cute. Yeon-woo thought of that pink monster from Jeong-woo’s favorite game that swallowed everything in sight.
So cute. Our Lieutenant is just too cute.
Even if Seo-joon had still been that strange creature in the research facility’s tank, Yeon-woo’s feelings wouldn’t have changed. Whether he was a unicellular protozoan, a slime in a tank, or a human being, Seo-joon’s existence would always be a lovely, miraculous thing to Yeon-woo.
Seo-joon, who was far from gentlemanly, approached them. Yeon-woo took his suitcase, saying he’d load the luggage first, and carried Jeong-woo toward the jet.
Two pairs of identical gray eyes met each other. But the two men were no longer the same. From the moment Seo-joon became human—or perhaps from the very beginning—they had been too fundamentally different to be grouped together under the name “No-Named.”
「We’ll meet again, right?」
Eric asked, his face a little forlorn. Seo-joon simply shrugged.
“Maybe.”
They laughed and hugged, but Seo-joon didn’t believe they’d ever meet again. It didn’t seem like the institute had any more need for them.
And Seo-joon no longer wanted to be a research subject. He truly, sincerely wanted to enjoy a normal life now. It was the happiness his lover—who had shaped him into a human—rightfully deserved. And it was the same happiness Seo-joon had vowed to give him for the rest of their lives.
「I hope you stay well.」
Perhaps sensing the same thing, Eric gripped Seo-joon’s hand sincerely. Seo-joon smiled and nodded.
「You too.」
With that, their long goodbye came to an end. After saying farewell to each SAU member, Eric stepped back with the researchers. The jet took off. Not long after, Jeong-woo fell asleep, and Seo-joon propped a pillow under his head before leaning back, intending to nap as well.
“Lieutenant.”
Suddenly, Yeon-woo curled up into his arms. As Seo-joon stroked the head resting against his chest, he glanced down to find Yeon-woo running his hand gently over his stomach—like a husband touching his pregnant wife’s belly.
“What kind of new affection display is this?”
Yeon-woo’s large hand rested flat over Seo-joon’s firm abs. Lifting his head, he whispered into Seo-joon’s ear.
“I want to be swallowed by you every single day.”
“…”
Seo-joon stared at him, speechless and dumbfounded. Cha Yeon-woo had just whispered something indecent in the middle of a private jet full of team members, and now he was giggling like it was the funniest thing in the world.
The more Seo-joon got to know him, the more unpredictable Yeon-woo became. If Seo-joon was a pervert within the bounds of reason, then Yeon-woo was a pervert outside the bounds of reason. It made Seo-joon feel slightly vindicated—he wasn’t the only degenerate here. In fact, Yeon-woo might be egging him on.
Still, after two weeks of constant movement, Seo-joon was exhausted. He couldn’t keep whispering sweet nothings forever. Before long, he closed his eyes and fell asleep beside Jeong-woo.
The remaining team members gathered in small groups, chatting or playing board games to pass the time.
“Baby, look at this.”
Yeong-gyo chuckled as he showed off a photo from their wedding day. Pictures cycled through on the screen—B-cuts from Cheong-oh and Yeong-gyo’s wedding shoot, with various team members wearing the veil and laughing.
Yeon-woo stared wistfully at the wedding veil in the photo. The veil he’d treasured had been “swallowed into the Lieutenant’s belly” and ended up a soaked rag—now it only existed in photos, a memory.
“This one came out really well. The Lieutenant looks amazing.”
Looking over the photos with Yeong-gyo, Yeon-woo commented. Min-geon peeked over their shoulders, curious.
He thought they were referring to Yeong-gyo when they said “Lieutenant,” but the photo was of Seo-joon.
“Come to think of it, why do you still call him ‘Lieutenant’?”
Min-geon asked.
“You’ve been dating for ages. Why still call him that?”
Apparently, the other team members were curious too. All eyes turned to Yeon-woo. But he answered calmly, unfazed.
“We’re going through a transition period with our terms of address.”
“Transition period? What do you call him when it’s just the two of you?”
Chae-won raised an eyebrow. Yeon-woo hesitated for a second, then answered shyly:
“…Honey.”
Groans and playful boos erupted around the cabin. Min-geon exaggerated his shock, calling Yeon-woo a shameless little brat.
“Come on! He’s nine years older than you! Are you trying to act like you’re equals?”
“Equals…”
Yeon-woo’s eyes quivered with shock. Do-young scolded Min-geon.
“Oh, leave them alone, hyung. Let them do what they want.”
“I wasn’t trying to be equal or anything like that…”
Yeon-woo mumbled awkwardly, flustered. The criticism turned on Min-geon.
“Look at Baby’s face—he’s about to cry.”
“Who are you to judge? Let them call each other ‘honey’ or ‘darling’ if they want.”
“They’re a couple! Who cares about age? You’re just showing your single life bitterness.”
“Still better than being whipped.”
As the team bustled with laughter and chatter, Yeon-woo sat silently, lips pressed together.
His mouth stuck out in a full pout.
The two of them had finally returned to their nest. Compared to when they left, their luggage had multiplied several times over, now messily piled up in the middle of the living room.
After showering, Seo-joon began unpacking with Yeon-woo. Perhaps worn out from the long flight, Cha Yeon-woo hadn’t said much the whole way home after dropping Jeong-woo off at the hospital.
“Are you really tired, Yeon-woo? Should we go to sleep right after unpacking? Or do you want to eat first?”
“…Let’s eat first. I’m hungry.”
Yeon-woo replied quietly. Seo-joon, pulling a suitcase toward the dressing room, said,
“Are any places even delivering right now? Can you check, Yeon-woo?”
As he said that, he busily continued organizing their things—until suddenly, a voice from behind made him freeze in disbelief.
“Hyung.”
Seo-joon’s hand stopped. Silence swept through the house. Maybe he was so exhausted that his hearing had stopped working. Seo-joon turned and looked at Yeon-woo. Standing by the door, ears flushed red, Yeon-woo slowly opened his mouth.
“…Seo-joon hyung.”
Seo-joon’s lips parted slightly. Was he still on the plane? Was this a dream? The Cha Yeon-woo standing there—whether an illusion or real—looked down shyly, embarrassed.
“What does it matter what we call each other… What matters is the heart.”
He echoed the very words Seo-joon had once said. Seo-joon still didn’t move a muscle. Seeing no reaction, Yeon-woo took a step closer and looked into his eyes, repeating more firmly,
“Seo-joon hyung.”
Plop, drip.
That’s when it happened. Red drops began dotting the floor.
Gasp… Yeon-woo’s eyes widened in shock.
“Ah.”
Ji Seo-joon had suddenly started having a nosebleed.
“I told you not to call, didn’t I? Geez.”
Seo-joon grumbled in a nasal voice. With a wad of tissue stuffed up his nose, Yeon-woo rapidly tapped at his phone with one hand.
“I’m going to check with Director Kang. He’s probably still at the center anyway…”
“No, it’s fine, Yeon-woo. I’m really fine. This isn’t an emergency or anything.”
Seo-joon snatched the phone out of his hand. He managed to take it just as Yeon-woo was about to press the call button, then flipped it screen-down onto the table. Meeting Yeon-woo’s wide-eyed, stunned gaze, he added,
“You’re saying it’s not an emergency? Even though you’re bleeding?”
“I’m not that weak, Yeon-woo… I must just be a little tired. It never happens normally. Really…”
He had a faint recollection of Cha Yeon-woo once saying something similar in a similar situation. Feeling oddly ashamed, Seo-joon brushed off Yeon-woo’s concern.
“That’s exactly why it is an emergency—because it doesn’t usually happen. Give me the phone. I’m calling Director Kang.”
But Yeon-woo reached out firmly, undeterred. As he did, Seo-joon sighed through his mouth since his nose was completely blocked and swiped the phone again before Yeon-woo could grab it.
“I’m telling you, it’s nothing. I know my body well… and I know exactly why this is happening, thanks to someone. If we call Director Kang, I’ll only end up making a fool of myself, so just drop it, Yeon-woo.”