Chapter 4: On My Lap, As Always

But having watched over Eun-gyeol for so many years, Han-geon knew well that around the time summer approached, Eun-gyeol became utterly drained physically.

Eun-gyeol was the type to run hot by nature, and heat—whether weather or temperature—was something he struggled with terribly.

The medicine he’d picked up today was supposed to cool the built-up heat in the body and restore stamina; if Eun-gyeol drank it now, before the real summer began, he’d be set for the whole year.

He hadn’t dared say it out loud for fear Eun-gyeol would snap at him, but… the truth was, he’d paid nearly a million won for the prescription.

Even aside from the price, it was something he’d had made specifically with Eun-gyeol in mind—so if Eun-gyeol didn’t even take a sip, well… Han-geon was only human; he’d feel at least a little hurt.

No matter how used he was to Eun-gyeol’s prickly complaints, it wasn’t something he could just shrug off.

He was about to let his shoulders droop when he quickly pulled himself back together.

He’d expected this reaction anyway—now wasn’t the moment to sulk.

It was the moment to coax him, no matter what, into drinking the medicine.

Like a seasoned caretaker handling a fussy cat, Han-geon rolled up his metaphorical sleeves, forcing an awkward smile as he carried the cup over and perched beside Eun-gyeol.

“Come on, just give it a try.

No—don’t even taste it, just gulp it down.

I went to a really famous clinic and told them your exact constitution.

They said it’s especially good for someone like you, a dominant Alpha.”

“I said I don’t want it.”

As expected, Eun-gyeol’s defenses were formidable.

Watching the way his brows kept scrunching tighter, Han-geon swallowed hard.

“Don’t do weird stuff.

Just give me the ade.”

“If you drink the ade first, the medicine will taste worse afterward.

Drink this first, and then you can wash it down with the ade…”

“Choi Han-geon.”

The frozen voice cut Han-geon off.

Eun-gyeol’s cold, sunken gaze quietly fixed itself on his face.

Han-geon, who had been about to continue speaking, shut his mouth automatically.

He recognized instantly that now was the moment he shouldn’t say another word.

Eun-gyeol had a somewhat childish temperament—he deeply despised people who forced him to do things he hated or stopped him from doing what he liked.

And Han-geon knew that all too well.

He knew it, but he had still tried to persuade him, even bracing himself for the reaction.

Maybe that had been too much.

His heart thumped anxiously.

Han-geon lowered his eyes to the cup, his gaze tinged with bitterness.

It wasn’t like he had drunk the dark, murky liquid himself, but his mouth tasted bitter anyway.

What am I supposed to do with this?

I can’t throw it away.

Should I just drink it myself?

Our constitutions are… well, extremely different, but… it’s not like it’ll kill me, right?

He was rambling in his thoughts when a short sigh sounded beside him.

“Give it here.”

“…Huh?”

Startled by the completely unexpected words, Han-geon turned his head.

A long, elegant hand was held out in front of him.

“I said give it.

Didn’t you want me to drink it?”

“Uh… yeah.”

Still dazed, Han-geon handed over the cup.

Taking it, Eun-gyeol sniffed it once, his expression twisting in open displeasure.

But then he lifted it to his lips and slowly began to drink the medicine.

Gulp, gulp.

Han-geon’s eyes were momentarily fixed on Eun-gyeol’s throat as it bobbed with each swallow of the medicine.

Watching him drink so prettily, Han-geon felt a strange, overwhelming warmth rise in his chest.

‘God, he’s really too beautiful…’

He was so prickly and sensitive, and yet—he was drinking it anyway, just because Han-geon had made it.

Only moments ago Han-geon had been regretting making the medicine at all, but now his face brightened visibly.

After slowly finishing the herbal tonic, Eun-gyeol set the cup down on the table with a soft tap.

His face was scrunched up in every possible way, just like a sulky child.

“…bitter.”

“It’s herbal medicine. Of course it’s bitter.”

“It’s really bitter. Tastes awful.”

“They say the stuff that’s good for your body always tastes bitter.”

“Don’t do this again. I don’t want you wasting your money on things like this.”

“Yeah, yeah, got it, idiot.”

Regardless of how cranky he was acting, all Han-geon could see was how impossibly adorable he looked—like a tiny kitten—now that he’d finished the whole cup.

Timing it perfectly, Han-geon quickly offered him a glass of green grape ade.

Eun-gyeol took a couple of grateful sips and let out a soft “Mm,” his throat humming. He finally looked satisfied.

Han-geon got up to set the empty glass aside, but a hand grabbed his wrist from behind.

“Come here.

Where do you think you’re going?”

“This first— w-wait just a second.”

The moment that drowsy voice drifted over, Han-geon’s body was suddenly pulled backward.

Thump—his hips sank automatically into the sofa.

Before he could even ask what was going on, Eun-gyeol naturally slipped onto Han-geon’s lap and rested his head there.

“I’m going to sleep for just fifteen minutes.”

“…You could just use a cushion.”

Han-geon’s gaze wandered helplessly through the air.

Even his voice shook a little.

It wasn’t that he disliked it—far from it.

It was just that for someone Han-geon’s age, burning with youthful energy, Eun-gyeol’s actions were always far too much of a test.

He was terrified his body would react on its own.

Terrified Eun-gyeol would hear how violently his heart was beating.

And then there were his ears and neck—so embarrassingly honest that even someone jogging a hundred meters away would take one look at him and know.

Know exactly that he liked the person whose lap he was offering right now.

At least Han-geon wasn’t a trait-bearer like an Alpha or Omega—he was grateful for that much.

He’d heard that when trait-bearers ended up in even slightly sexual situations, their pheromones leaked out beyond their control. Han-geon imagined being a trait-bearer for a moment and shuddered internally.

If he were, Eun-gyeol would’ve found out about his feelings ages ago.

Still lying down, Eun-gyeol lifted his gaze and looked up at Han-geon, then slowly opened his mouth.

“The stuffing in that cushion is dead. Your legs are firm and perfect. I like things a bit solid.”

“…”

“Huh?

I had interviews today… and the concert… I’m really tired, Han-geon.

You’ll let me lie here, right?”

Long, slender fingers brushed playfully over the muscles of his thigh a couple of times.

A soft, blooming smile—like a flower opening—burned itself into Han-geon’s vision.

With him asking like that… there was no way he could say no.

Han-geon’s face flushed instantly, and all he could do was nod.

He had always been far too weak to this kind of expression from Eun-gyeol—ever since long, long ago.

“I’m really sleepy….”

Only after seeing Han-geon nod did a satisfied look finally settle in Eun-gyeol’s eyes.

His breath spread in a slow, comfortable rhythm, and his soft hair scattered naturally across Han-geon’s lap.

“…Don’t move.

It tickles.”

“Okay.”

Every time those fine strands of hair rubbed lazily against his thigh, Han-geon felt a violent urge to leap up and flee the house altogether.

The center of his body—calm only moments ago after silently reciting every song and chant he could think of—threatened to rise again.

He bit the soft flesh inside his lip hard enough to taste bitterness, swallowing down the heat clawing up his throat.

Eun-gyeol, oblivious and uncaring of Han-geon’s turmoil, only let out a sleepy little laugh.

One of his legs stretched out long; the other bent upward in a neat triangle.

The oversized shorts he’d borrowed from Han-geon slid down toward the sofa.

The thigh that was revealed in full was so pale it was almost dazzling.

Han-geon chose, instead, to shut his eyes tight.

He took so many deep breaths he lost count.

Soon, Eun-gyeol’s eyes fluttered closed.

His beautifully shut lashes, the pale and elegant line of his neck, the subtle definition of muscle along his thigh…

Han-geon’s gaze drifted helplessly over the body of the friend who had laid his head on his lap for seventeen years—then sank to the floor, heavy with guilt.

A hot sigh slipped out of him before he realized it.

Looking down at Eun-gyeol, who had already drifted into a light sleep, Han-geon pressed his lips together tightly.

Being with Eun-gyeol was—undeniably—happiness.

And sometimes, it was a little unsettling.

And quite often… it demanded every ounce of patience he had.

***

Han-geon sometimes wondered.

If Eun-gyeol, who had moved into the house next door when they were ten, hadn’t been that pretty—would his life have taken on a different shape by now?

One Saturday morning, Han-geon woke up to a noise louder than usual.

When he got up, he saw his mother and father standing at the front door, greeting a man he didn’t recognize.

The man held a box of apples in his hands, and beside him stood a boy Han-geon had never seen before.

Without realizing it, Han-geon let his mouth fall slightly open.

The kid seemed about his age, but he felt like a completely different kind of creature from the neighborhood boys he kicked balls with and rolled around in the dirt with every day.

He looked like a prince from TV—or like the sparkling jewel rings Han-geon had once seen hidden in his mother’s treasure box.

‘He’s really pretty.’

That had been Han-geon’s honest, first thought the moment he laid eyes on ten-year-old Cha Eun-gyeol.