PV Ch.5 Part 2

The door clicked shut, leaving Bomin alone with his thoughts. He slowly lifted his head, his dark eyes unfocused as he stared blankly at the wall. He could have been mistaken for a doll, his body still and lifeless, except for the occasional flutter of his eyelashes, a subtle reminder that he was, in fact, alive. 

“I didn’t expect it to be easy… but this is just hell level difficulty,” he muttered under his breath. 

But Bomin wasn’t one to wallow in despair. He was backed into a corner, but that just meant he had to fight his way out. Giving up wasn’t an option. If it had been, he would have jumped out the window the moment he realized he was trapped in this crazy novel. 

“Just because I can’t Sex Guide Espers anymore, doesn’t mean I can’t have s*x with other people,” he mused, his thoughts taking a decidedly more pleasant turn. 

Besides, even with Espers, s*x wasn’t entirely off the table. He just couldn’t control the flow of his Guiding energy. But if his partner was careful, if they were mindful of his limits, they could still enjoy physical intimacy without triggering a Guiding session. 

“First things first, Song Jaeho.” 

Bomin grabbed his phone and, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, pressed the call button. 

The phone barely rang twice before Song Jaeho answered. 

“…Lee Bomin?” 

“Hey, it’s me,” Bomin replied casually, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. 

“You’re awake? Are you alright?” Song Jaeho’s voice was sharp with concern. 

“Yeah, just a little weak still… I’m sure I’ll be fine,” Bomin said airily. 

“Wait there, I’m on my way.”

The line went dead. Bomin stared at his phone, a puzzled expression on his face. 

“Did he… just turn into a completely different person?”

He’d noticed something different in Song Jaeho’s messages earlier, but the change was even more apparent in his voice. 

“I wonder if he’ll still be singing the same tune after he finds out about my compatibility rate.” 

Since that fateful night at the club, Bomin had made a conscious effort not to rely on anyone. Trust, he’d decided, was nothing more than a dangerous illusion, a self-imposed delusion that left you vulnerable. 

Emotions, he believed, were just as illusory. People slapped labels on fleeting sensations, mistaking them for something real, something tangible. They lived their lives clinging to these constructs, deluding themselves and each other. Bomin, for one, wasn’t buying it. 

So even as he played his part, pretending to care about these Espers, deep down, he knew it was just a game. A temporary distraction in a world that wasn’t his own. And that’s how he was able to compartmentalize, to detach himself from the fear and uncertainty that threatened to consume him.

He was a survivor, and he would do whatever it took to stay one step ahead.

“I’m starving…” 

He pressed a hand against his stomach, which rumbled in protest. He hadn’t eaten anything since waking up, just that overly nutritious juice. 

“Lee Bomin, you’re hungry?” a deep voice said from the doorway. 

The door slid open, revealing Song Jaeho. He always moved with a quiet grace, his footsteps barely audible, even to Bomin’s enhanced hearing.

“That was fast,” Bomin commented, surprised. 

It hadn’t even been that long since they hung up. Song Jaeho must have flown over. 

“Let me see you.” 

Song Jaeho stepped closer, his gaze intense as he looked Bomin over. He gently touched his face, then his arms, as if he couldn’t quite believe Bomin was really awake and talking. 

“What is this, a checkup?” Bomin joked, though inside, his heart was racing. 

It was fascinating, seeing Song Jaeho like this – uncertain, almost… vulnerable. He’d only known the man for a short time, but everything he’d read in the novel, everything he’d learned from their encounter, pointed to a completely different personality.

“You really…” Song Jaeho began, his brow furrowed, his usual arrogance replaced by a look that bordered on pain. 

“Missed me that much?” Bomin teased, sitting up and wrapping his arms around Song Jaeho’s neck. The room was dim, making Song Jaeho’s eyes look even darker, more intense than usual. 

Bomin pressed a light kiss to Song Jaeho’s lips, his eyes crinkling at the corners as Song Jaeho’s breath hitched in his throat. He could feel the tension draining out of Song Jaeho’s body, replaced by something softer, something that resembled… relief? 

“Mmh…” Song Jaeho groaned, pulling Bomin closer. 

The kiss deepened, and became more insistent. Song Jaeho pushed him back against the pillows, his strong arms bracketing Bomin’s head. The flimsy hospital bed creaked under their weight. 

“Wait,” Bomin gasped, his voice muffled against Song Jaeho’s lips. 

He’d long since gotten over his aversion to being kissed breathless, but this… this was something else entirely. He needed air, needed a moment to catch his breath. But Song Jaeho was relentless, his lips trailing down Bomin’s jaw, his tongue tracing the shell of his ear. 

“Jaeho… wait…”

As if finally sensing Bomin’s genuine struggle, Song Jaeho shifted his weight, collapsing onto the bed beside him. He pulled Bomin close, tucking his head under his chin. Bomin’s chest heaved as he struggled to regain his breath, the sound loud in the quiet room. It felt like he’d just run a marathon, not shared a kiss. 

“You scared me, Bomin.” 

Song Jaeho’s hand was in his hair now, his touch surprisingly gentle. Bomin’s breathing had calmed, but he didn’t move away. Song Jaeho’s heartbeat was a steady rhythm against his ear, oddly comforting. 

“You were breathing, but… it was getting shallower, and you wouldn’t wake up…”

Song Jaeho was the one who had brought him to the Treatment Center. Bomin had assumed that Song Jaeho would have just left him there, passed out and useless, in that hotel room. And honestly, he wouldn’t have blamed him. 

But there was a note of genuine regret in Song Jaeho’s voice, the kind of raw emotion that suggested he actually cared. 

“…I was so worried, Bomin,” Song Jaeho breathed, his voice barely a whisper.

The words seemed to echo in Bomin’s soul, stirring up a maelstrom of emotions. He thought back to his encounter with Shi Yu-hyeon, the way his casual cruelty had left Bomin feeling used and discarded. He’d tried to brush it off, to convince himself that it didn’t matter.

But at that moment, as he lay in Song Jaeho’s arms, a terrifying thought occurred to him: what if this, this strange connection he felt with Song Jaeho, was just another illusion? What if he was just setting himself up for another fall?

He suddenly felt adrift, like a tiny boat tossed about in a storm, at the mercy of forces beyond his control.

***

Bomin bit down on his swollen bottom lip, the lingering sting a stark contrast to the warmth spreading through his chest. He didn’t understand why, but the more genuine Song Jaeho became, the more guilt gnawed at him. He was supposed to be playing a part, manipulating Song Jaeho for his own survival. And yet, Song Jaeho’s sincerity left him feeling off-balance, like the ground beneath his feet had shifted. 

“What’s wrong? Are you hurting somewhere?” 

Song Jaeho’s voice was laced with concern as he tilted Bomin’s chin up, forcing him to meet his gaze. Bomin had gone still, his usual playful facade replaced by a heartbreaking silence. Song Jaeho’s heart clenched at the sight of tears brimming in Bomin’s eyes, silent and overflowing. 

He clumsily brushed the tears away, his touch awkward yet full of tenderness. Bomin, as if punishing himself, bit down on his already-injured lip, drawing blood. 

“Hey! You’re bleeding!”

Without hesitation, Song Jaeho brought his thumb to Bomin’s lips, his expression pained as Bomin’s sharp canines dug into his skin. 

“…I can’t Guide you anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

Song Jaeho had assumed that Bomin was pulling away because of what happened during their last encounter, the way he’d blacked out mid-session. He tightened his grip on Bomin’s face, a flicker of fear running through him. 

“My compatibility rate… it dropped. Didn’t they tell you?”

Had Jin Gyugeon informed him? Or maybe the Association didn’t see it as a priority, not with an endless supply of Guides eager to please their precious S-rank Espers. Bomin was only human, after all, and his worth, in their eyes, was directly proportional to his Guiding ability. 

It wasn’t like his compatibility with every Esper had plummeted. There were still plenty who would benefit from his touch, Espers with rankings lower than S. He just chose not to Guide them. 

“Compatibility doesn’t just… drop,” Song Jaeho argued, his voice tight with disbelief. 

Compatibility rates were supposed to be constant, unwavering. Even if an Esper or a Guide’s magic fluctuated, their compatibility remained unchanged. That’s why Song Jaeho hadn’t been overly concerned about Jin Gyugeon’s mention of a retest. 

“…Am I being punished?” Bomin whispered, the words barely audible.