FRWD Ch 20

After Yehan left, it was only then that Haseong emerged back into the living room. The dining table, which he had left untouched, was already cleared and spotless, as if someone had tidied it up in the meantime. There were no dishes to wash either. With nothing to do, he had intended to at least wash the dishes, but instead, he scratched his head aimlessly and rummaged through the kitchen cabinets.

After roughly figuring out the rearranged positions of the dishes, he opened the refrigerator. It was packed with food, likely ordered the previous night. He couldn’t recall ever seeing the fridge in this house so fully stocked before.

Haseong took out an apple, bit into it, and glanced around the kitchen. There was truly nothing left to do. What did he used to do when he had nothing to occupy himself with? No matter how much he thought about it, no answer came to mind. That was because he had never lived a leisurely life with nothing to do.

Before meeting Yehan, he was busy juggling part-time jobs and band activities. After meeting Yehan, he took on two jobs, and even on his rare days off, he almost always spent time with Yehan, leaving no room to feel bored. It was the same even after moving to Haenam to live with his noona.

“Should I start studying composition again?”

He hadn’t touched it consciously since abruptly quitting Kim Jinho’s studio.

Though it was an unavoidable situation, the regret of having kicked away his chance to achieve his dream only grew with each passing day. At the same time, the self-reproach that he didn’t deserve to feel regret since it wasn’t an opportunity earned purely by his own strength swelled in proportion. Inevitably, those thoughts led him to recall Yehan, who had given him that opportunity.

In the end, it was all about lingering attachments. Attachment to a shattered dream, attachment to a completely ruined unrequited love. Focusing on composition would flood his mind with such attachments, making his head a tangled mess, which was why he had set it aside for a while.

Haseong stared blankly at the laptop on the dining table before turning his head away.

He trudged over to the sofa to watch TV. It was right after sitting down that he noticed a yellow sticky note and a small basket on the coffee table. They hadn’t been there that morning. Haseong’s eyes instinctively read the words written on the note.

[Just in case, I’m leaving my card and car keys here. Use them freely. The car is the Range Rover in my parking spot. I chose an SUV because bigger cars are safer for beginners, but let me know if it’s inconvenient to drive.]

Next to the note was a small basket containing the car keys and a card.

Considering Yehan had a history of practically confining him to this house, and just moments ago had asked if he’d stay home until he returned, leaving the car keys behind… Haseong couldn’t fathom what he was thinking. Then again, Yehan’s earlier actions were equally incomprehensible, so how could he possibly understand the complexities of his psyche?

Yehan had always been hard to read, but since reuniting, he had become even more difficult and enigmatic. Or perhaps, through a series of events, Haseong had come to recognize Yehan’s abnormality, making it feel even more pronounced.

Whatever the case, it was clear Yehan was the type of person Haseong’s common sense couldn’t comprehend. With a heavy sigh, Haseong left the items in the basket untouched.

With nothing else to do, he lay on the sofa, using the laughter from the TV as background noise while fiddling with his phone. He couldn’t spend months like this, so he thought about looking for a part-time job. While idling, a call came from his noona. Haseong answered cheerfully.

“Hello.”

—Your voice sounds okay? How’s life there? Is it good?

“What’s good about it… I’m bored.”

—Enjoy it. There’s probably no one else who was as active as you in early pregnancy. Take a rest now.

Her firm tone and advice quickly dispelled his boredom. Though it had only been a few days since he left, they had plenty to talk about. Most of it was his noona’s one-sided nagging.

Take care of your health, this supplement is supposed to be good, I’ll send it to you so take it regularly—the sermon went on until she finally got to the main point.

—Have you found a hospital to go to in Seoul?

“No.”

He realized too late that he’d spoken too soon. It occurred to him that Yehan had mentioned booking a hospital appointment. But before he could correct himself, his noona responded as if she’d expected this.

—I figured as much. The doctor from your old clinic recommended a place. Want to check it out?

A text arrived with the hospital’s name and address. It was conveniently close, and since it was recommended by a doctor he was familiar with, Haseong was naturally inclined to go.

Since he had explained the rough situation about meeting an alpha in Haenam to receive pheromones, going to the recommended hospital meant he wouldn’t have to repeat himself, which was a big advantage.

—It’s run by a junior colleague of his. It’s a hospital specializing in omegas. They said they’d book you an appointment right away if you’re going.

“Today?”

—Yeah. They had a cancellation. It’s a really famous place, so you can only get an appointment like this. What do you think?

He hesitated briefly since Yehan had already booked a hospital, but the hesitation didn’t last long.

“I’ll go.”

Yehan’s appointment was three days away, so he could just cancel it. Yehan had insisted on going together, but Haseong wasn’t sure why that was necessary, so he quickly dismissed the thought. He could go alone and share only the necessary details afterward.

Haseong answered decisively and began preparing to leave.

As expected from an omega-specialized hospital, there were quite a few male omegas sitting in the waiting area, a sight rarely seen at his previous clinic. Among couples who came in pairs, Haseong waited awkwardly alone before entering the consultation room.

The doctor, likely already briefed on his situation, skipped unnecessary questions and closely examined the ultrasound screen before speaking.

“It’s definitely small for its gestational age. But the heartbeat is strong.”

“…”

“If you regularly receive alpha pheromones, it’ll grow quickly. You’ll soon be able to determine the gender too.”

The doctor explained that in cases of extreme male omegas who hadn’t received alpha pheromones from early pregnancy, not only the baby’s health but also the omega’s health typically suffered. Yet, despite those conditions, Haseong had almost no morning sickness, loss of appetite, or other symptoms, which the doctor found remarkable and smiled faintly.

“Even under tough circumstances, the baby’s growing healthily without causing you trouble. What a good kid. It’s like the baby’s already thinking of its dad.”

He had heard similar remarks before—that even in the womb, the baby seemed gentle, and it was rare for a pregnancy to be this easy. But the comment about the baby thinking of its dad stirred a wave of overwhelming emotion.

From the moment he learned he was pregnant, Haseong hadn’t purely rejoiced or felt wonder at the baby’s existence. Unlike other parents who showered their babies with love and attention, he had deliberately avoided such actions.

Given his personality, he couldn’t bring himself to terminate the pregnancy, so he had lived in a state of half-resignation. At the same time, he had tried to change his mindset during the given time. The emotion he poured into the baby most was pity.

But to hear that the baby was thinking of him, this inadequate dad…

The childhood vow to raise his child with so much love that they’d never feel lonely flashed through his mind, followed by images of Yunho and his father coming for bass lessons, and his own childhood self, folding paper airplanes alone at home, staring at the sky.

Depending on his actions, his child could grow up as bright and unscarred as Yunho, or like his own childhood self… perhaps the only being who would offer and crave unconditional love.

A wave of mixed guilt and affection swept away not only his pity for the baby but also the loneliness he had always carried.

The doctor, glancing at Haseong’s reddened eyes, naturally shifted his gaze back to the monitor.

“…I heard from sunbae that you’re still undecided, but you came to Seoul with the intention to give birth, right?”

To the doctor’s simple question, Haseong, shaking off the last shred of hesitation, answered firmly.

“…Yes.”

“Good decision. Just make sure to receive alpha pheromones regularly. The baby’s so well-behaved that there’s not much else to worry about.”

“How exactly should I receive them? Like, the frequency or amount…”

Since this was something he needed to share with Yehan, Haseong listened intently to memorize the doctor’s response. The doctor handed him a tissue and explained calmly.

“Generally, alphas naturally emit pheromones, so just living together and going about daily life is usually enough.”

He paused briefly, as if considering Haseong’s specific case, causing Haseong to nod nervously.

“Since you didn’t receive alpha pheromones at all in early pregnancy, you’re in a deficient state. It’s best to receive them as often and as much as possible. The ideal way is to go through a rut together. And have sexual intercourse regularly.”

“What?”

What are you talking about? The words nearly escaped his throat, but an even greater shock sealed his lips. The doctor’s serious voice hit Haseong’s stunned mind again.

“When you receive enough alpha pheromones, your body will naturally become aroused. That acts as a kind of catalyst, so having intercourse during that time allows for even more pheromones…”

“Intercourse isn’t absolutely necessary, right?”

Unable to listen any longer, Haseong interrupted, and the doctor, with a calm smile, said something unexpected. For the next few minutes, the kind explanation continued, leaving Haseong’s mind in tatters as he left the hospital.

Since it was a last-minute appointment due to a cancellation and his first visit, various tests took longer than expected. Haseong walked slowly, looking at the now-darkened sky.

On days like this, he craved a cigarette even more. Passing by a convenience store made the urge surge to his throat, but he suppressed it, breathing in the winter air instead.

His mind was busy organizing what to tell Yehan. He’d leave out the part about intercourse. Just ask him to emit pheromones frequently. Relieved that Yehan hadn’t come along, Haseong opened the front door. As he took off his shoes, rubbing his chilly arms, he lowered his gaze to the floor.

“…Where have you been?”

A low, eerie voice echoed softly from the end of the hallway connecting the entrance to the living room. Startled, Haseong looked up.

In the dim hallway, Yehan stood, pale-faced, still in his coat, as if he hadn’t even had time to take it off. He must have been wearing it since morning.

“Hyung? Why are you back so early…?”

“I thought you’d be here…”

Since he expected Yehan to return around evening at the earliest, his surprised voice slipped out first. But Yehan, as if he couldn’t hear the question, staggered forward, muttering incoherently.

Mumbling to himself, he reached out instinctively but stopped short, hesitating. Only after meeting Haseong’s eyes did he awkwardly retract his arm.

“You said you’d be here, but you weren’t…”

Yehan’s trembling extended from his eyes to his fingertips and the edge of his voice. Though Haseong had noticed Yehan’s fixation on his whereabouts, he hadn’t expected it to be this intense, and he, too, grew flustered.

“…I didn’t know you’d be back so early. I didn’t think I needed to tell you about a quick errand. Why didn’t you just call?”

Instead of standing here like this. He bit his tongue to avoid saying the last part, filled with evident worry.

The man before him was undoubtedly the Yehan he knew, but his expression, as if all composure had been washed away by rain, felt so unfamiliar that Haseong averted his gaze. Only then did he notice the phone in Yehan’s left hand.

The lit screen displayed Haseong’s new number prominently. The moment he recognized it, the phone slipped from Yehan’s hand.

“…I thought you’d find it suffocating…”

“…”

A faint confession, like drizzling rain, slipped out quietly. The weak voice, as if it might fade, ended with a heavy sigh.

“…You’re back, so it’s fine. Sorry for making you see me like this right after coming home.”

His tone returned to the familiar Yehan, but his fingers, picking up the phone, still trembled. As he bent down to put slippers on Haseong’s feet, Haseong stepped back.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“But when you’re pregnant, you’re supposed to avoid bending over as much as possible.”

It was as if he’d overheard advice meant for a heavily pregnant woman. Male omegas didn’t typically show that much anyway. Pointing to his still-flat stomach, Haseong whispered, embarrassed.

“That’s for when the belly’s big… I’m a guy, so it probably won’t get that noticeable.”

“Still, you’re carrying a child, so you should be careful.”

“No, really, I’m fine.”

As he kept refusing, a serious voice rose from below, climbing up his legs.

“Let me do this much. Whatever choice you make, I’ll respect it, but until then, I want to take responsibility as the baby’s dad for what I can.”

Choice… Should he tell Yehan he’d decided to give birth? But since he planned to raise the child without involving Yehan, there was no need to say it. He’d find out naturally in time.

With his lips sealed, Yehan carefully placed the slippers at Haseong’s feet and asked cautiously.

“Or… does even this much contact make you uncomfortable? I’ll be more careful if it does.”

“…It’s fine.”

The condition of no physical contact was meant to avoid sexual advances. The only thing touching Haseong now was the sole of the slipper Yehan held.

Unable to say even this was uncomfortable, he said it was fine, and Yehan let out a small chuckle.

“Why are you laughing?”

“It just feels nice to hear that, and it makes me realize how fickle human emotions are.”

After putting on both slippers, Yehan stood up, his expression noticeably relaxed.

“So, where did you go?”

“Just to the hospital…”

His face, of course, stiffened again the moment Haseong answered.

“Are you sick? What’s wrong? Did something happen? If it was urgent, you could’ve used the card and keys I left. Didn’t you see them?”

“It’s not that. Just…”

Overwhelmed by the flood of questions, Haseong paused to organize his thoughts. After a brief hesitation, he glanced at the living room table, specifically at the small basket and its contents.

“You can take the card and keys back. I’m fine.”

“…”

“I can’t drive a big car like that, and I have enough money for a few months’ allowance.”

Telling someone used to borrowing his noona’s compact car to suddenly drive a large SUV was excessive kindness. Worried Yehan might offer another car, Haseong added that he didn’t need one at all.

“And the hospital… the doctor from my old clinic in Haenam recommended a place run by his junior, so I went there.”

Oh, intercourse. Pushing the absurd advice out of his mind, Haseong mumbled.

“They told me to receive pheromones as often as possible…”

“…I said we’d go together.”

After a long silence, Yehan’s suppressed voice sank heavily into the air. If voices had visible forms, it would be cracked and distorted from being pressed down. His contorted expression clearly showed his discomfort.

‘Is he mad?’

Yehan had likely gone out of his way to book a hospital, so it made sense he’d be annoyed that Haseong went elsewhere. Feeling guilty for breaking the plan, Haseong spoke defensively.

“They said there was a cancellation today, so they booked me right away…”

“Then you could’ve at least called me before going…”

Burying his face in his hands, Yehan sighed. Haseong cautiously asked.

“You said the hospital you booked is in three days… Can’t we cancel it?”

“That’s not the issue…!”

Yehan’s voice rose briefly but trembled, then fell silent as if he’d swallowed his anger. After moving his lips several times, he barely managed to speak.

“Why did you go alone?”

“I knew you were busy, so I didn’t want to bother you… I’ve always gone alone anyway.”

Indeed, before his noona’s vacation, he had attended most appointments alone. At first, being the only one without a partner among couples felt awkward and embarrassing, but humans adapt, and he’d long since stopped caring.

Haseong thought he’d spoken casually, but Yehan’s face twisted as he heard it.

“Back then, I didn’t know you were pregnant, but now I do. I’ve said multiple times that I want to take responsibility for everything I can while we live together. I…”

He repeated “I” several times, unable to continue, his face pained. Haseong couldn’t understand why he was so distressed over something as simple as this. What was causing him such anguish? Staring at him, Haseong finally spoke.

“You don’t need to take responsibility for going to the hospital with me. It’s not like we have to go together.”

“When someone’s pregnant, people usually go together! In a normal, typical relationship…”

“…Our relationship isn’t normal or typical.”

Hearing Yehan, the most abnormal person he knew, talk about “normal” and “typical” was almost laughable. There was a time he had secretly hoped for a normal, typical relationship, but wasn’t it Yehan who had shut that down, saying he had no interest in dating?

Even Yehan seemed unsure of his own words, his voice trailing off. Haseong spoke calmly to the frozen Yehan.

“Our relationship has an expiration date… I don’t want to owe you any more.”

“Owe?”

“I told you yesterday, you don’t have to do anything for me. Don’t worry about me. It’s burdensome.”

It wasn’t a reprimand or irritation. He’d said similar things to Yehan multiple times, but Yehan’s habit of pretending to listen while letting it go in one ear and out the other was familiar, so Haseong wasn’t particularly disappointed. He was just stating his opinion clearly, hoping this time it would stick.

Perhaps because he spoke without emotion, it seemed to have an effect. Yehan stammered.

“…So you’re saying you don’t want to accept anything from me except pheromones?”

“Yes. There’s no reason to.”

“Why isn’t there a reason? Haseong, you… Why do you need a reason to accept things? You used to accept things from me without needing a reason.”

“Back then, I… needed what you gave me.”

Wasn’t it Yehan who deliberately gave him things he couldn’t easily refuse? To hear him say reasons didn’t matter felt strange. Haseong gave a bitter smile.

Even now, things weren’t much different, but back then, he was truly incapable, unable to find a decent job without Yehan, with no close friends or family to rely on.

Yehan had approached him, showering him with sweet words and opportunities as if they were nothing, staying by his side so he never felt lonely. That’s why he couldn’t help but like him.

And as much as he liked him, fear followed. Fear of upsetting him, of the relationship growing distant. He paid attention to every little thing, knowing the relationship was turning into something less than honorable, yet he accepted things—even things he didn’t want.

The result?

“While packing to move to Seoul, I realized everything I had was from you.”

He hadn’t even had time to properly dispose of those things, leaving them behind in the rooftop apartment and Yehan’s house. Even the people he considered contacting one last time were all connected through Yehan. Exhaling a hollow breath, Haseong murmured.

“That’s when I understood why you said I had no shame.”

“That’s not, Haseong, back then…”

“I’m not trying to blame you. I’m just saying I don’t want to feel that shame again.”

Ignoring Yehan’s attempt to protest, he continued. If this was an opportunity, he wanted to say everything. Yehan seemed to be listening closely today, so there was no reason to hold back.

“And the baby, too. You don’t have to take responsibility for it. I was planning to raise it on my own anyway, without involving you.”

He was sure he’d said this before… Haseong felt a bit tired.

“Just give me pheromones. That’s more than enough for you to fulfill your responsibility. Don’t think of it as your child…”

“…Do you hate me that much?”

What came out was a subtle counter-question rather than a direct answer. Hearing the dampened voice, Haseong instinctively looked at Yehan’s face. Was it a relief, or was it only natural? There wasn’t a trace of tears in his eyes. But his expression was just as desperate as his trembling voice.

“I lied, tried to control you, acted like a madman… If that’s why you hate me… If I could just fix those things.”

“…”

“…Alright. I’ll try harder. I’m already trying. Earlier, when I wanted to rush out to find you, I held back, didn’t I? So, let’s go back to how things were before…”

“Hyung, how can we go back to how things were? After everything that happened.”

What “before” was he so desperately clinging to? The time when Haseong, blindly infatuated with unrequited love like a fool, could be played with at Yehan’s whim? Was that what he missed so much?

The memories and lingering attachments, left as indelible scars, were thrust upon him like a bomb. The one who inadvertently woke him from the daydream of unrequited love was none other than Yehan himself.

The victim was Yoon Haseong, the perpetrator Go Yehan. Despite the clear cause and effect, Yehan stood there with a wounded expression, as if he were the victim. That he could still stir Haseong’s guilt and pity was what made him truly despicable. Both his trembling figure and Haseong’s sticky lingering feelings were the same.

“Why are you so obsessed with the past? You say you’re sorry, but is it just empty words? Do you actually miss the days when I obeyed you? Or was your apology another lie?”

Haseong forced his tightening throat to move, frustration welling up. His voice came out heavy, but he didn’t notice. Squeezing out his words, he pressed Yehan, who shook his head frantically.

“My apology is sincere. I’m truly reflecting and want to prove it by fixing my flaws. That’s why I’ve been trying to do whatever you want…”

Uncharacteristically hesitant, Yehan trailed off. His gaze, which had dropped to the floor in shame, wavered before locking onto Haseong. Finally, with an expression that pained even the onlooker, he spoke.

“…I’m sorry. I can’t let you go.”

His eyes, clouded with sticky regret, despair, and self-loathing, revealed unfiltered desire. Haseong instinctively stepped back to avoid the piercing gaze, but Yehan took a step forward just as quickly.

“Without you, it feels like I’m drowning. Like I’ll suffocate any moment… I can’t breathe.”

Haseong, who had been retreating hesitantly, froze at the fervent plea. What was this man saying? It sounded like a love confession, and his blood ran cold.

Yes, it was true that Yehan’s attitude had changed since they started living together again due to the pheromone issue. He no longer manipulated Haseong with guilt-inducing words, subtly shifted blame, or lied.

He didn’t play word games with their agreements, kept his promises silently, and acted as if his apologies were genuine. Not only did he behave as kindly as when they first met, but he was so overly cautious that Haseong momentarily wondered if Yehan liked him.

But he dismissed that suspicion quickly. No matter what, the past couldn’t be undone.

If Yehan hadn’t consistently lied to him. If he had at least denied his dirty intentions when they were exposed. If he hadn’t tried to brush off the events of that night after locking him in the study. If he had confessed everything, including the Woochan incident, and offered a sincere apology without excuses.

Then Haseong might have softened at Yehan’s changed attitude. He might have believed Yehan was acting out of love or guilt. There had been so many chances. As much as he had liked Yehan, his foolish heart had given him countless opportunities.

But Yehan had kicked away every single one, acting like a madman, showing Haseong the worst sides of himself, only to apologize too late. This man, now pleading with a face like he’d jump into water, saying he couldn’t breathe without Haseong.

“I, to me, Haseong, you’re the only one. I realized it too late, so…”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t believe you.”

That day when everything fell apart, why didn’t he confess like this instead of getting angry that Haseong didn’t believe him over others?

If he had, Haseong might not have been overjoyed, but he would have believed him. Even knowing Yehan’s true nature, he would have buried the discomfort deep down and ignored it. That’s how much he had liked him.

Even now, when Yehan was in pain, it bothered him. He couldn’t be as devoted as before, rushing to his side, but he still wished Yehan wouldn’t hurt. He hoped he’d live well, that his work would continue to succeed.

That way, Haseong would have less reason to think about him. If he thought of him less, his feelings would naturally fade—whether it was hatred, affection, or lingering attachment. He just wanted to reset everything to a blank slate.

His fundamental desire to care for Yehan had already changed, so how could he embrace this situation? How could he believe this confession without a shred of doubt? After making someone change like this, no one would take such a fervent confession as anything but deception.

“How can I believe you? You said it yourself, hyung. Even you wouldn’t trust someone like you.”

How effortlessly he lied with a calm face, how convincingly he feigned a wounded look, how he spun sophistries that could almost make you think, “Oh, really?”—Haseong had seen it all.

And that wasn’t all. He had already figured out Yehan’s pattern: when things didn’t go his way, he turned hostile and oppressive. Even Hyeongseok and Sehyung, Yehan’s closest associates, had said it—when things didn’t go his way, his eyes would “go wild.” That was exactly it.

Haseong snapped in a flat tone.

“Think about the lies you told me. What you said after they were exposed. How you treated me when we met again at the hospital.”

“…”

“Was that because you liked me? …Is that even possible?”

For Haseong, who had loved so devotedly, so tenderly, so wholeheartedly, cheering for the other’s success and willing to overlook flaws, it was incomprehensible.

Thus, while he was certain Yehan was obsessed with him, he was equally certain it wasn’t out of love. Knowing Yehan’s abnormal traits made it even clearer.

Putting together everything Yehan had said, he wasn’t capable of love. At least, that’s what Haseong concluded.

“The love I know isn’t like that. How could you treat someone you love that way… So I can’t believe you. Even if your confession is sincere.”

Haseong took a deep breath and said softly.

“You’re mistaken.”

“Mistaken about what? What kind of feeling counts as love, then?”

“Obsession or stubbornness, maybe. Or perhaps you’re just reluctant because your dirty fascination with me hasn’t faded.”

Who could have imagined he’d respond like this to a confession from the person he once loved most in the world? …If only he had confessed a little earlier. The mood, the response, and his feelings would have been so different.

Haseong caught himself imagining “what if” again and stopped. There was no turning back time; it only made things more futile.

“…Look at this. No matter what you say, I can’t believe you and only hear it with suspicion. How can we go back?”

Haseong pressed his dry eyes with his palms. Perhaps mistaking it for wiping tears, Yehan hurriedly reached out but stopped just short, leaving a nail’s breadth between his trembling fingers and Haseong’s covered eyes. Panting, he pleaded.

“I was too late. Too late to realize my feelings for you, too late to see my methods were wrong… I understand why you can’t believe me. But it’s not a mistake. Why are you so sure? I’m already—”

Haseong waited silently for him to finish.

But Yehan clamped his mouth shut as if he’d made a mistake. He bit his lips, swallowing the unspoken words. He bit so hard that when his voice emerged again, faint blood glistened at the center of his lips.

“Fine, I won’t talk about going back. I won’t make pathetic confessions about my feelings. Just please.”

With a face that looked like it would crumble at the slightest touch, Yehan poured out his words, his arm still awkwardly raised, unable to lower it or touch Haseong’s face.

“Tell me how to be forgiven. I’m not asking you to believe me. I just want to start over. How can I…”

“There’s nothing to forgive. It’s already over.”

Haseong closed and opened his eyes, struggling to erase the pained Yehan from his sight.

“Go inside. I’m sorry for breaking our plans, but I’ll go to the hospital alone from now on. And…”

Yehan’s chest heaved as if he were hyperventilating, and Haseong instinctively reached to rub his back but recoiled, curling his hand into a fist.

Please, you idiot. I’ve got my own problems—why do I feel sorry for a man struggling to breathe? At this point, there must be something wrong with my brain. Haseong clenched his fist so tightly the bones protruded.

“Whether it’s obsession or whatever, I don’t care. Just… let me go.”

And I’ll do the same, he didn’t say. If Yehan could let go of his twisted desire mistaken for love, and Haseong could let go of his sticky lingering feelings, it would be over. Peel away all the jagged emotions, take only the necessary pheromones, and part cleanly after the baby was born.

A relationship this twisted could neither go back nor start anew. That time had passed. Haseong slipped past Yehan, who stood blocking his way, and fled to his room, closing the door. Thankfully, no footsteps or voice chased after him.

Perhaps due to being mentally exhausted, though it was early, he craved rest. He just wanted to rest. Collapsing onto the bed, Haseong groaned.

“Ugh…”

Perhaps due to stress, his stomach had been throbbing since earlier. It was rare for him. Sweating coldly, he placed a hand on his stomach and buried his face in the bedding. Having rubbed his body against it for days, Yehan’s pheromone scent had faded significantly.

Still, even the faint scent relaxed his tense body, easing his breathing. Haseong resisted the urge to rush to the man outside and beg for pheromones, taking a deep breath instead.

Even curled up like a shrimp in the cozy bed, sleep wouldn’t come. Closing his eyes only brought back Yehan’s pale, trembling face, his confession echoing like he was drowning.

“Stop thinking…”

There was no reason to lose sleep mulling over a confession he’d rejected. Yet, his thoughts branched out uncontrollably.

If it was sincere, when did he start liking me? When did he start feeling like he was drowning without me? Was that why he searched for me so desperately, trying to bring me back?

Now in Seoul, was his obsession with my whereabouts because he couldn’t breathe without me?

“Haa…”

The more he thought, the more his own breath quickened.

💜

From beyond the door, the sounds of tossing and turning and sighs filtered through. Whenever a pained groan came, Yehan fought the urge to break down the door and check on him.

At the same time, he suppressed the dark desire whispering to lock Haseong in there forever. But no matter how he crushed those urges, Haseong’s talk of “ending” kept regenerating like a lizard’s tail, floating in his mind.

Lock him up, cut ties with Choi Serae. He has family to rely on now, so he doesn’t need me. Quit acting, spend more time with him, ignore his disdain and accusations, and use the baby as a leash to keep us together forever…

“The love I know isn’t like that. How could you treat someone you love that way… So I can’t believe you.”

Haseong’s words, surfacing mid-thought, grabbed Yehan by the collar and yanked him back to reality. He let go of the doorknob and slumped to the floor. The pheromones starting to leak out against his will were reined back in.

No wonder he can’t believe me. A bitter laugh escaped. He’d brought Haseong here, vowing to do whatever he wanted to win his heart, yet only days later…

If what Haseong truly wanted was the end of this relationship, Yehan had resolved to accept even that. But the more he saw Haseong, the more his greed to hold on grew.

Seeing Haseong step out in the morning after staring at the closed door all night felt like a miracle. His hesitant but conversational voice was lovable, his body carrying their child, sleeping and eating, was endearing.

I can’t live without Haseong now, but he keeps talking about the end, driving me insane. Their recent conversation confirmed Haseong’s firm intent to leave, making Yehan’s thirst burn his throat.

“Should I have told him I imprinted?”

If he’d revealed his one-sided imprinting, Haseong might not have dismissed his love as a mistake. But Yehan had consciously swallowed those words. Even outside that moment, he’d had chances to tell him but chose not to.

The reason was simple. Telling Haseong he’d imprinted, that he loved and needed him so much that his absence meant a withered, dying future—Haseong might still leave, unfazed. Yehan was terrified to face that reality.

Realizing he was such a coward was a new experience. At the same time, he began to understand his pathetic father, who had everything yet groveled before his mother, choosing suicide over divorce.

Fear must have been the root of it all. Like Yehan now.

He was terrified Haseong would leave for good. That no matter how hard he tried, he wouldn’t get forgiveness or even a chance to seek it. That Haseong would no longer care or show the slightest interest. That he’d never smile at him again, that no matter how many times he confessed love, Haseong wouldn’t believe him.

And since it was all Yehan’s fault that Haseong had become so cold, he could only stifle his twisted desires and bitterly ruminate on his past wrongs.

💜

Tormented by the lingering pain in his stomach and unending thoughts, Haseong gave up on sleep, lying with his eyes closed through the night.

Even brief dozes were interrupted by dreams replaying Yehan’s confession, waking him instantly. Thankfully, rubbing his stomach eased the pain, but his mind, neither rested nor sleepless, was foggy.

Sunlight streamed through the window. The past few days had been cloudy, but today seemed clear. Lying in bed, blinking at the thin white curtains, he heard a voice.

“Mr. Haseong, are you asleep?”

A polite knock accompanied the voice he didn’t want to hear this morning. Haseong glanced at the closed door and pulled the blanket over his head. Two more rhythmic knocks followed.

“If you’re awake, come eat breakfast. I’ve prepared it…”

Why was someone who skipped breakfast so obsessed with Haseong’s meals? It added another layer to his tangled thoughts. Ignoring him, Haseong rustled the blanket.

His state was a mess after the confession, yet the confessor was up, ready to move on as if nothing happened. That irritated him.

Yehan was always like this. After a big fight or unsettling event, he’d act the next day as if nothing happened, treating Haseong casually. It often eased the awkwardness, but today…

“Is he advertising it wasn’t sincere?”

His accumulated resentment and sleepless, frayed nerves vented. He was more annoyed at himself for vowing not to care yet ruminating on the confession all night. Haseong kicked the blanket lightly.

“If you don’t want to see my face, I’ll leave now, so come out and eat.”

Yehan’s voice came again, as if talking to a child. Irked, Haseong stood, flung open the door, driven by a defiant impulse to show he could live normally too.

But seeing Yehan’s face, Haseong lost his words and the fleeting irritation.

“Your face looks awful. Are you sick?”

“Hyung, you’re not in a position to worry about anyone.”

Unlike Haseong, who had at least dozed briefly, Yehan looked like he hadn’t slept at all. His drooping eyes struggled to blink, his thin frame reeked faintly of alcohol. Haseong genuinely wondered if he slept or ate.

“It’s nothing, just… a bit tired.”

Yehan shrugged it off and smiled at Haseong.

“…Sorry about yesterday. I won’t do anything to bother you like that again.”

“…”

“I want you to feel comfortable while you’re here. That’s why I brought you, but I lost control again…”

Since reuniting, Yehan seemed to sigh more. He brushed his slightly damp bangs, lowering his already half-closed eyelids further.

“Just think of it as a madman’s nonsense and let it go… Oh.”

He covered his mouth, glancing downward. Haseong followed his gaze and asked.

“What’s wrong?”

“Cursing… won’t the baby hear?”

“…It doesn’t have ears yet.”

Haseong muttered, deflated by the unexpected reasoning. Technically, the baby’s hearing wasn’t developed enough to hear external sounds, but close enough.

Standing awkwardly, Haseong was drawn by the smell of food from the kitchen. Despite his poor condition, his appetite remained.

As Haseong shuffled to the kitchen, Yehan followed a meter behind. Like before, Haseong sat at the table, Yehan stood near the fridge, maintaining a subtle distance as breakfast began.

As if out of consideration, Yehan didn’t speak until Haseong was nearly done eating. Staring at someone eating must be fascinating. Only when Haseong picked at the remaining side dishes did Yehan speak.

“Can I ask what the hospital said yesterday?”

“It’s small, but with enough pheromones, it’ll grow healthily. They said to get a lot of pheromones…”

Yehan showed surprising interest in the baby. He hadn’t smoked once since Haseong arrived, and there was no trace of cigarette smell, suggesting he didn’t smoke outside either. Though he seemed to drink instead.

Was that why he insisted on going to the hospital together? If so… Haseong’s mouth felt gritty, like chewing sand.

“I’ll make sure the house is filled with pheromones. Since my return times vary, how about I give them to you directly in the mornings? Is that okay?”

Haseong, chewing braised ribs, nodded. Yehan, finding his puffed cheeks amusing, smiled faintly and nodded back.

“Then after you finish eating, let’s start today. …What about the baby’s gender?”

“They said it’s too early to tell.”

“If you give birth, would you prefer a girl or a boy?”

“Doesn’t matter… I used to want my first to be a girl, though.”

“…Planning for a second?”

His tone was oddly sharp, chilling the previously calm conversation. Haseong set down his chopsticks with a clack and muttered calmly.

“When I get married, I thought I’d want two kids… something I thought about as a kid.”

“Oh, when you were a beta.”

As soon as Haseong clarified it was a vague dream, the venom left Yehan’s voice, and relief flickered across his face. Haseong forced himself to ignore Yehan’s uncharacteristically transparent reaction.

He wanted to retreat to his room after eating until Yehan left, but he needed pheromones. Reluctantly, they sat on the long sofa in the living room, an awkward distance between them. Counting floor patterns to avoid the tension, Haseong heard Yehan speak hesitantly.

“They really said just getting a lot of pheromones frequently is enough?”

“Yes.”

“Getting a lot might cause physical reactions. Is that okay? You told them I’m a dominant alpha, right?”

Haseong nodded stiffly. He knew exactly what physical reactions Yehan meant, recalling how his body had heated up after being engulfed by Yehan’s pheromones in the car.

Embarrassed, he clamped his mouth shut and averted his gaze, but Yehan, misinterpreting it, spoke seriously again.

“I’m not asking with ulterior motives. I mean, literally, is it okay since you’re pregnant?”