📢 Loves Points Top Up is Closed Until it Fixed

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    “…It’s fine.”

    If it wasn’t fine, the doctor wouldn’t have strongly recommended intercourse… Haseong answered in a barely audible voice. Yehan tilted his head slightly, then began releasing pheromones.

    “Is this… enough? Let me know if it’s too much.”

    A bittersweet, oddly damp scent filled the living room, seeping through the cracks of the open bedroom door. Unlike the faint pheromone scent in the bedding that had brought comfort, this sensation overwhelmed Haseong’s entire body.

    First, his muscles relaxed, and his body went limp. Heat spread from his navel, as if he were holding a warm heating pad against his stomach. The problem was that the heat emanated not from his skin but deep within his core, creeping outward. At the same time, an itch, like ants crawling over the heated areas, spread further. Unable to cool or scratch it, the sensation drove him to the edge.

    Haseong clenched his teeth to suppress a moan. If his lips parted even slightly, he feared an uncontainable sound would escape. Leaning into the corner of the sofa, he squeezed his heated eyes shut, enduring the stimulation. Then, he felt a soft, enveloping sensation and cracked his eyes open.

    “Don’t bite your lips. Try to relax.”

    Yehan handed him a cushion, his eyes filled with concern as he spoke gently. Haseong buried his face in the cushion, replacing his bitten lips with the fabric. In that moment, a short, whimper-like moan escaped him.

    “Hnn…”

    “…Mm.”

    Disbelieving he’d made such a sound, Haseong peeked out from the cushion, his eyes barely open, stealing a glance to the side. He didn’t need to look far. Yehan, who had subtly closed the distance, sat close enough that his lower body immediately caught Haseong’s attention.

    He said he had no ulterior motives. Even with his brain softened by the pheromones, Haseong couldn’t help but shoot him a glare. Feeling the blatant stare, Yehan covered his eyes with his forearm, looking embarrassed.

    “This… please understand. I can’t help it…”

    It wasn’t an excuse. Yehan, regulating his breathing, seemed more like someone enduring pain than arousal. Haseong closed his eyes again. In the pitch-black darkness, time crawled agonizingly slowly. Only when the house was thick with Yehan’s pheromone scent did he finally rein it in.

    “…This is torture.”

    Muttering softly beside him, Yehan stood with a final “rest well” and staggered to the bathroom. He’d definitely showered that morning… Haseong, thinking that far, gripped the cushion so tightly it nearly burst.

    It was the first time since returning to this house that he deeply agreed with something Yehan said.

    💜

    Since starting to receive pheromones, Haseong avoided Yehan even more actively outside those moments. He had no choice but to go out for pheromones in the morning, but once done, he retreated to his room. Being in the same space as Yehan with his body so heated was suffocatingly awkward.

    Returning to his room with a flushed face and closing the door, he immediately threw open the window, letting the cold air cool his body.

    But sometimes, no amount of effort could calm him. In those moments, Haseong writhed in self-loathing and headed to the bathroom. He’d firmly decided to give birth and had grown attached to the baby, yet in these moments, he couldn’t help but slightly resent its existence.

    Fortunately, since receiving Yehan’s pheromones, the baby began growing steadily. The hospital reassured him that he could start worrying less. Perhaps because of this, his once-flat stomach seemed to protrude slightly.

    Pausing while washing his hands, Haseong stared at his reflection in the mirror. To the naked eye, there was no noticeable change, but his pants felt slightly tighter around the waist.

    “I’m heading out.”

    Yehan’s voice echoed faintly from a distance. Muffled by two doors, it was barely audible, but since Yehan always said the same thing before leaving, Haseong understood without issue.

    Several weeks had passed since they started living together in Yehan’s house. In that time, Haseong had learned a few unexpected things. For instance, Yehan always knocked twice on the closed door and said he was leaving, even without a response.

    As for sleep… it seemed he barely got any. Haseong realized Yehan stayed awake all night in the living room when, half-asleep, he knocked over a nearby lamp one night. Before he could fully wake to the sound, Yehan’s voice came from beyond the door, urgently asking what happened.

    Haseong, bleary-eyed, noticed the doorknob dip slightly, hesitate, and then return to its original position. After a brief silence, Yehan’s cautious voice asked if he was hurt, more restrained than before.

    That night, Haseong opened the door in the early hours for the first time and saw the state of the living room. He learned Yehan relied on sleeping pills and headache medication, suffered from severe insomnia, and, despite not sleeping, was hyper-focused on the room Haseong stayed in.

    In the mornings, when Haseong emerged, Yehan was always seated where he could see him directly, asking if he slept well. Haseong never saw him drink coffee, which he used to live on. Instead, Yehan’s increasingly gaunt face offered a gentle smile, always tinged with relief.

    Haseong could guess what he was relieved about, and at some point, he started walking out with his eyes fixed on the floor.

    ‘So annoying…’

    Yehan’s newfound transparency since the confession, and Haseong’s own tendency to interpret every action as love despite rejecting it as such, were both infuriating.

    Since that day, Yehan hadn’t once said he loved him or asked for trust. He prepared breakfast every morning he had a schedule, focused intensely during pheromone sessions to avoid even brushing Haseong’s finger, and on days without a schedule, he either stayed in the study or left the house around noon.

    Haseong could tell it was all for his sake.

    “I want you to feel comfortable here. That’s the one thing I’ve never lied about or wavered on.”

    Yehan’s words, said after Haseong told him to stay in his room so he could rest, often stirred his heart. Lately, Yehan was driving him to the brink of a headache.

    He couldn’t trust Yehan’s words. He didn’t want to. He shouldn’t. Yehan’s “love” wasn’t love—it was mere obsession, lust, stubbornness born of his twisted nature, a fleeting interest that would soon fade.

    He wanted to dismiss it as such, but Yehan’s every small action seemed to contradict that.

    Why couldn’t he just stay a crazy, awful guy? That way, Haseong could leave with a lighter heart. Why did he keep acting like he truly loved him, shaking Haseong’s resolve? Everything felt resentful now.

    “Cough…”

    Emerging from the bathroom, the chill from the open window hit him. He’d been feeling under the weather lately, so he quickly closed the window and stepped out of the room.

    The empty house, with Yehan gone, felt hollow. Sitting on the sofa, Haseong wrapped himself in a familiar blanket and opened his laptop.

    His hand naturally typed the SoundCloud address. He hadn’t fully resumed composing, but he’d started refining old tracks and uploading them for backup. Staying cooped up in the house was too boring.

    He’d considered a part-time job, but his noona’s fierce opposition and his changing physical condition made him give up.

    Which song to work on today? Scrolling, his cursor stopped on a track. It was one he’d made for the male lead’s theme in a drama Yehan was starring in, set to air soon.

    Among blandly titled or untitled tracks, this was the only one he’d carefully named, pouring his heart into it despite ignoring Kim Jinho’s assignment.

    ‘Come to think of it, it’s airing soon.’

    Set for mid-March, less than a month away. The tracks he’d made under Kim Jinho were likely scrapped or recycled with tweaks. This coveted song was probably the same.

    Haseong moved the blinking cursor away from the title. It was his most cherished track, but he didn’t want to hear it again. His heart and his relationship with Yehan were far different now.

    Yet, deleting it felt hesitant. It was a long-obsolete practice piece, and logic told him to delete it rather than feel unsettled seeing its title. As he wrestled with the intangible file, the doorbell rang, and the door opened. The intercom showed Sehyung’s face.

    “Hello. I rang the bell so you wouldn’t be startled.”

    Sehyung greeted the surprised Haseong and got straight to the point.

    “I’m here to grab something. Don’t mind me.”

    “Okay…”

    Sehyung strode over, easily finding a small notebook under the table. Tucking it into his pocket, he didn’t leave immediately but sat across from Haseong, who adjusted his posture.

    Scratching his head, Sehyung hesitated before speaking.

    “…Are you getting along with Go Yehan? He’s not acting like a madman like before, right?”

    “So-so…”

    “Hyeongseok told me. He thinks you overheard our conversation… Right? You came to the shop that day.”

    “…”

    Did Miyeon spill? Well, since Haseong quit without notice and cut contact, it made sense Hyeongseok would mention it out of concern. Neither confirming nor denying, Haseong sat quietly as Sehyung rubbed his palms on his knees.

    “Look, I… I’m sorry. I wanted to apologize, but I haven’t had a chance to talk to you alone, so it’s late.”

    Sehyung’s hands, tensely placed on his thighs, gripped and released the fabric, leaving wrinkles.

    Haseong slowly lifted his gaze from the creased navy pants. Sehyung’s face was devoid of groveling smiles or condescending looks, only earnest sincerity.

    “…This might sound cowardly, but thank you for not mentioning us to Go Yehan. You practically saved our lives. If he found out, Hyeongseok and I would probably be dead.”

    It wasn’t that Haseong deliberately spared them; he just saw no reason to tell. It wasn’t like he was tattling. Besides, even if he had, Hyeongseok was Yehan’s cousin, and Sehyung was his manager—surely it wouldn’t be that serious. Haseong muttered skeptically.

    “Why would hyung do anything to you two over that…”

    “If he knew we caused your falling out, he wouldn’t just kill us—he’d do worse.”

    The reply was deadly serious. Seeing Sehyung’s tightly closed lips, Haseong’s expression hardened too.

    Each small clue proving Yehan’s confession was sincere felt like a stone thrown into calm waters, causing ripples. Haseong stubbornly denied it.

    “No way.”

    “…You haven’t seen his study?”

    “What? No, he told me not to go in.”

    “You never went in? Not once while alone here?”

    Haseong nodded, and Sehyung sighed heavily, as if the ground would cave in.

    “What’s so great about that lunatic that you still do everything he says?”

    “It’s not that. He’s the homeowner, so…”

    It wasn’t about obediently following Yehan like before but simple courtesy. Besides, he had no fond memories of the study to sneak in and snoop.

    “…Go in once. He can’t even get mad if you disobey him now.”

    Leaving that cryptic remark, Sehyung stood abruptly.

    “I’m off. I snuck out during a shoot.”

    Haseong mumbled an awkward goodbye as Sehyung waved him off, saying no need to see him out. He sat still until the door closed and the electronic lock clicked, his gaze fixed on the study.

    Reason screamed to quell his curiosity, but impulse won. What had Yehan done in there that he forbade entry, and why did Sehyung urge him to look with such disdain? Finally, Haseong cautiously approached the study, grabbed the doorknob, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

    He froze, seeing a room exactly as he’d left it.

    It wasn’t the layout that shocked him. His clothes were still strewn on the bed, Yehan’s coat—the one Haseong had draped over him—lay on the blanket. The phone he’d received as a birthday gift sat on the desk like a display piece, and in the corner stood a four-string bass, inexplicably there.

    “What…”

    A startled mutter slipped out. He’d definitely given that bass to the old landlady. Inspecting it closely, it was impeccably maintained, its body gleaming. Haseong swallowed hard.

    The room was saturated with Yehan’s pheromones, far more than in the bedroom he’d given Haseong. It felt like Yehan lived in the study instead.

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

    The confession he’d tried not to believe resurfaced. His heart raced, and a throbbing pain pulsed in his tense stomach. Unable to even touch the scattered clothes, Haseong stood dazed before backing out.

    Regret for seeing something he shouldn’t have lingered in his mind.

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