TBM Vol 3 Part 19

“Why did you put your clothes back on?”

Sa Seung-yeon couldn’t hold back. The moment Lee Il-seo stepped out of the bathroom, he grabbed him and pressed him against the wall, leaning in for a kiss. But Lee Il-seo flinched—his shoulders tensed sharply, and he turned his head away. Sa Seung-yeon froze, gaze falling to the side.

“…”

“…”

Just now, Lee Il-seo had truly avoided him as if frightened, as if someone was about to hit him. Even now, his body was trembling slightly. Absurdly, as if he was afraid of Sa Seung-yeon.

“What’s going on?”

“Ah… I’m sor-ry…”

Seeing Lee Il-seo mumbling an apology and straightening his hunched shoulders, Sa Seung-yeon lowered his head again. Though Lee Il-seo wasn’t recoiling anymore, his reaction was definitely different from the past.

His face, which used to flush under the slightest touch, remained ghostly pale. His body—rigid, unmoving. Trying to ease the tension, Sa Seung-yeon slid an arm around his waist and released his pheromones gently into the air, hoping it might calm him. But Lee Il-seo’s knees buckled the moment he sensed it.

“Ah…”

Fortunately, since Sa Seung-yeon was holding his waist, Lee Il-seo didn’t fall, but he looked up at Sa Seung-yeon with a surprised expression. Now that he noticed, Lee Il-seo’s eyes were also reddened. His chocolate-colored eyes, more moist than usual and enlarged, were wavering as if about to spill tears. Something was off.

“That person just now…”

Sa Seung-yeon’s nerves became sensitive as Lee Il-seo brought up the same topic again. Finally, he removed his hands from Lee Il-seo’s waist and exhaled a long sigh.

“Why do you keep bringing him up? I told you it’s nothing.”

Though his lips curved into a smile, his voice dropped, heavy and low. Lee Il-seo’s lips quivered as he looked at that forced smile. It quickly faded from Sa Seung-yeon’s face.

“Fine, I called him to sleep with him. But I didn’t like him, so I sent him away.”

“…”

“I contacted you because sex with you is more comfortable. What, do you need more explanation?”

Lee Il-seo, who had been moving his lips, spoke with a trembling voice.

“If that person… Had been good enough. Were you going to make them your partner?”

Sa Seung-yeon closed his eyes for a moment, dragging a hand through his hair. Lee Il-seo—normally so easygoing—was poking, prodding, questioning everything. He was clearly shaken by what happened earlier with Jung Si-woo. And while Sa Seung-yeon found his wounded look frustrating, he also didn’t want to see Lee Il-seo like this—curled in on himself, hurt over something so meaningless.

He hadn’t slept with Jung Si-woo anyway, and when he went to the bar, he and Lee Il-seo weren’t partners. So there was no need for Lee Il-seo to waste emotional energy on this.

“No, I have no intention of doing it with anyone but you.”

But Sa Seung-yeon decided to comfort Lee Il-seo first. After saying what he wanted to hear, he tried to kiss him again, but Lee Il-seo turned his head away, avoiding him.

“Then… Are we becoming sex partners again?”

“Shit, really…”

Finally, unable to contain his anger, Sa Seung-yeon cursed under his breath. But Lee Il-seo, despite his frightened eyes, neither avoided his gaze nor showed any gesture of responding to physical contact.

“What do you want to hear?”

Lee Il-seo kept his mouth shut, lips pressed tightly together. He wasn’t going to budge.

Seung-yeon hadn’t thought beyond tonight. But looking at Lee Il-seo now—fragile, wounded—he realized something. After trying with others, it was clear: no one else excited him, pulled him in, like Lee Il-seo did.

A safe and convenient partner. He was willing to continue being partners with Lee Il-seo. He didn’t know what had triggered his spiral, but he was on edge, one emotional tug away from disappearing completely.

Sa Seung-yeon composed his expression that had been turning fierce. Lee Il-seo was secretly timid and docile. He gently caressed his damp cheek and whispered softly, soothingly.

“Is that what you want?”

“…”

“If that’s what you want, I’ll do it.”

He smiled—the soft, practiced one he liked—and looked into his amber eyes. The orange glow made them appear darker, deeper.

Just touching his skin again made his blood stir, heat pooling low in his belly. His stomach even ached with the strain of restraint. Slowly, to avoid frightening him further, he brushed his thumb over his trembling lower lip. Then he leaned down, intent on kissing him.

Just before touching his plump, smooth lips, Lee Il-seo dropped his head to the floor, and Sa Seung-yeon’s movement stopped. Lee Il-seo, breathing irregularly, spoke in a small voice.

“I don’t want to.”

Furthermore, Lee Il-seo forcefully pushed away the strong shoulders that had trapped him. At this clear gesture to stay away, Sa Seung-yeon’s relaxed expression hardened, and lines immediately formed on his jaw. Lee Il-seo slowly raised his head.

“I can’t do this anymore… Being sex partners.”

His weak voice fell to their feet.

Seung-yeon took a single step back. Even with distance, the air felt suffocating. The shift in atmosphere was unmistakable. Lee Il-seo sensed it, too—how his presence had grown cold, sharp. That awful rut had left behind its marks.

“…”

“…”

Sa Seung-yeon, seemingly baffled by Lee Il-seo’s sudden rejection, remained silent for a moment before raising one corner of his mouth crookedly.

“Lee Il-seo, neither of us is stupid.”

Sa Seung-yeon faintly furrowed his brow, then smoothed it out and asked with a shrug.

“Did you really think I called you just to see your face?”

“…”

“This is a hotel.”

He knew well enough without needing to dig deeper. What Sa Seung-yeon was thinking and why he had called him. That he had no reason to contact him except for physical intimacy. But… Lee Il-seo barely found his voice after releasing his bitten lip.

“I…”

Strangely, the corner of his mouth rose in dismay.

“I came because I wanted to see you, senior.”

He knew it was selfish. But that simple desire—to see him—had outweighed any rational thought. Even if it meant stepping into something that would only hurt.

Lately, they’d seen each other often. Ironically, just when he’d resolved to let go, he kept appearing in his life. Spending all day with him drained him emotionally—but oddly, his usual symptoms vanished. No stomach aches. No nosebleeds. Then, once filming ended and he returned to his empty home, the pain would return with a vengeance.

Originally, the partnership Sa Seung-yeon had promised was until the drama filming ended. He had resolved not to harbor lingering feelings, but his honest feelings were different. The proof was that every time he recognized Sa Seung-yeon’s absence, various parts of his body ached intensely.

He held the phone Sa Seung-yeon bought for him. Remembering the one he’d smashed. Clung to those remnants like they meant something. Thought absurd things, like: Is unrequited love supposed to hurt this much?

Then, during a haze of pain, the phone vibrated—and it was him. The moment he heard his voice, everything inside him stilled. When he realized he had missed two of his calls, panic overtook him.

As he frantically put on his hat and coat and rushed out, he suddenly realized: The mark left by his one-sided feelings was so deep that he simply couldn’t erase it easily. Even if he didn’t remember the rut, even if he capriciously resumed the relationship he had cut off so cleanly while drunk, he was just grateful.

But in the hallway, he smelled his scent clinging to another man’s collar. Tried to convince himself it was coincidence. But then the hotel door opened from the direction that man had come.

He thought it could be a coincidence. But on the table, there was another glass besides Sa Seung-yeon’s, and in the bathroom, there were opened toothbrush packages and toothpaste. As if mocking him, there were two of each.

Reality poured over him like cold water. Sa Seung-yeon hadn’t been looking for him. He was just a convenient option. A placeholder. It felt like being swapped out, like a tool.

While washing his hair with cold water to calm his fluctuating emotions, his mind gradually became composed. And so he finally faced his pitiful feelings.

He liked him too much now. Just being near him wasn’t enough. He hated that he didn’t feel the same—and hated himself more for wanting him too.

It was an emotion that crossed the line. But he no longer wanted to hide it, even if it meant cutting away his feelings and hating Sa Seung-yeon. Before it rotted and festered into a worse mess while hiding and concealing it, he wanted to give it away in its still intact form.

“What are you saying?”

Sa Seung-yeon tried to smile, but anxious pheromones flowed out, and Lee Il-seo clutched his lower abdomen where pain was starting to spread, not knowing why. Before Sa Seung-yeon realized his feelings first and uttered words of rejection, Lee Il-seo brought up that day first. It was a sorrowful impulse.

“During your rut. I.. I was actually at your house.”

Sa Seung-yeon flinched, his eyes narrowing in confusion. Lee Il-seo began speaking aloud the thoughts he had once dismissed as a crude fantasy—something he had tried hard to forget.

“You spent it with me… The rut.”

“What nonsense are you saying?”

“You called me, told me to come to your place.”

Sa Seung-yeon’s expression changed at Lee Il-seo’s increasingly desperate voice. He grabbed Lee Il-seo by the shoulders and shook him to make him look at him. His excessively thin body shook easily. Even as his voice trembled, Lee Il-seo spoke each word with deliberate emotion.

“You called me to come over, just like today, and I went.”

“…”

“I can’t refuse when you ask me to come.”

Lee Il-seo exhaled heavily as if frustrated, then spoke a little louder.

“I’m a beta so I don’t know much, but… During a rut… Isn’t that when rationality breaks down and you become honest? You called me during your rut. Did you really call me without… Without any feelings at all?”

He was referring to that brief call—just a few words, but now they burned with meaning. Sa Seung-yeon’s eyes turned cold, his memories unraveling. The fragments he’d tried to bury returned: flashes of a blood-stained sheet, of fluids he’d assumed were his. And in those fractured images, Lee Il-seo had been—

.

“Are you… Okay?”

Sa Seung-yeon asked, momentarily unable to continue as if swallowing something. Even though it was already in the past, and asking about it now seemed absurd, he had to ask. If he had been an omega, he could have protected himself by releasing pheromones to soothe an Alpha’s sexual desire. But since Lee Il-seo didn’t know how to do that, he would have had to endure with his bare body until the Alpha’s pheromone release was complete.

Unlike Sa Seung-yeon who was frozen in shock, Lee Il-seo standing opposite him seemed detached.

“I’m fine. Because it was you.”

“…What?”

“Because it’s someone I like… I could bear it.”

His voice was steady, but his cheeks were wet with silent tears. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he held in the sounds trying to escape. Shallow, broken breaths gave him away. Before he could respond, Lee Il-seo spoke again.

“I like you, senior.”

“…”

“That’s why I can’t be partners anymore.”

Thud. Sa Seung-yeon’s hands, which had been holding Lee Il-seo’s thin arms, dropped.

His confession was messy—hurried and uncertain. Even after saying it, his fingers fidgeted restlessly, picking at his nails. His heart thundered in his chest, echoing in his ears, shaking his entire being. He hadn’t meant to say it. Not like this. Not now.

Still, Sa Seung-yeon remained silent, weighing each word. Finally, he spoke,

“I’m sorry about the rut.”

“…”

“I probably called you because I was used to having sex with you, so don’t give it any other meaning.”

Sa Seung-yeon spoke, separating the person he was that day from who he was now. Knowing that Lee Il-seo’s false hope would be more painful, he had to explain firmly but directly.

“If you have any aftereffects or pain, tell me. I’ll take responsibility for treatment.”

His tone was gentle, yet void of emotion. Lee Il-seo could already sense the end. His chest felt like it was folding in on itself. But somehow, his tears stopped. The thunder in his ears dulled, his breath leveled.

After a brief silence where both managed their emotions, Sa Seung-yeon continued quietly.

“And I’m sorry, but…”

“…”

“Like you said, once emotions get involved… We can’t be partners..”

“…Yes.”

Since Lee Il-seo felt the same way, he nodded obediently and moved away from his embrace. Sa Seung-yeon stepped aside as if pushed by a weak force, and Lee Il-seo picked up his coat and hat and headed straight across the hotel room.

Just before entering the corridor, Sa Seung-yeon grabbed his wrist. Lee Il-seo stopped, staggering.

“You’re leaving like this?”

“…”

“We have to see each other tomorrow, and in the future too.”

While he was still drowning in the past, he was already talking about the future. He breathed in, slowly, then nodded. Thankfully, his tears were gone. He wiped his damp cheeks with both hands and lowered his head.

“I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t mean for you to apologize; I meant let’s resolve the emotional aspect before you go.”

“No, I was wrong. Unnecessarily, I… I…”

Lee Il-seo stopped speaking and closed his mouth. He composed his voice, which was about to break.

“I’ll sort it out quickly.”

Lee Il-seo looked up at Sa Seung-yeon and smiled awkwardly. Sa Seung-yeon tried to smile faintly for Lee Il-seo, who was trying hard to appear calm, but couldn’t manage it. Sa Seung-yeon faced Lee Il-seo’s distorted smile and raised his hand to pat his shoulder.

“…Okay. I’d appreciate that.”

“I’m truly grateful for being able to work with you. I wanted to tell you that, regardless of emotions. So… I hope you won’t feel uncomfortable around me.”

“I’m not uncomfortable.”

“…”

“When we were partners, and even now. That hasn’t changed.”

It wasn’t just a comforting statement. Lee Il-seo really wasn’t uncomfortable around Sa Seung-yeon. He was someone he liked for being comfortable, and while this sudden confession was surprising, it wasn’t uncomfortable. Rather, it was closer to being pitiful.

Lee Il-seo smiled bitterly and bowed his head again in farewell.

“I’ll be going now. See you tomorrow.”

Because he’d let him end it properly, he didn’t feel like a wounded animal running away. But he envied his calmness—how he could stay composed, untouched, after hearing everything. It only deepened his shame

The stone he had thrown with all his might to create ripples had sunk into the deep sea, disappearing without a trace. Perhaps for Sa Seung-yeon, such things were that common and easy.

As soon as he heard the door close behind him, he walked, almost running, down the corridor. While waiting for the elevator, he put on his coat and pressed down his hat. His reflection in the smooth, shiny elevator door surface looked no different from someone who had been slapped by fierce waves.

Head bowed, he crossed the lobby, and after leaving the building, he walked aimlessly without thinking of a destination. He wanted to escape from here, no, from Sa Seung-yeon’s scent that persistently lingered below his nose. Far away, to a place where no one could reach.

Red taxi lights dotted the road. He rushed across the sidewalk, flagged one down, and gave the driver an address. Inside, he leaned his head back, covering his face with both hands.