Chapter 50: No One Else

“…You didn’t have to go that far.”

Han-geon’s gaze shot at him sharply.

Eun-gyeol couldn’t help but frown.

“What?”

“I mean… him just now.

We could’ve just eaten together for today, right?

Or at least said it nicely…”

“What, you think something bad would happen if I ate alone?

And did I even tell him to f*ck off?”

In an instant, sparks flew between their entwined gazes.

Han-geon sighed with a troubled expression.

Truly, it was a look Eun-gyeol disliked more than anything.

The anger Eun-gyeol had felt toward that stupid kid clinging to Han-geon boiled to its peak.

Because of that idiot alone, he almost fought with Han-geon.

It was ridiculous.

“It wouldn’t really matter… but still, you didn’t have to go that far.”

“Han-geon.”

Eun-gyeol’s voice dropped to a quiet, firm tone.

“When school ends, we’re busy.

We can’t meet like we used to.”

“…..”

“We’re not even in the same class anymore.”

Slowly brushing his hair back, Eun-gyeol fixed his gaze on Han-geon.

“That’s why I said, at least at school, I want it to be just the two of us.

Did you forget?”

“…..”

“You’re not bothered at all?”

Blinking slowly, Eun-gyeol persistently read his gaze.

Finally, Han-geon bit his lip and dropped his eyes.

Though it might have looked like anger at first glance, Eun-gyeol immediately sensed that Han-geon had already given in.

Han-geon’s feelings were as transparent to Eun-gyeol as if he were completely exposed.

Nine years of shared history made that unavoidable.

“Tell me, Han-geon.”

This time, Eun-gyeol coaxed gently.

“I really value the time I spend with you, so how can you not care if it’s shared with anyone else?”

Until elementary school, Han-geon had always looked up at him.

Over time, those eyes had risen to equal level, and now, he could look down on him.

The gentle eyes of Han-geon, looking up from below, revealed his emotions clearly.

Those eyes, softened foolishly only for Eun-gyeol, obedient and generous in response to his pouting—seeing those eyes thrilled him to the point of shivers.

“…No.”

Finally, the answer Eun-gyeol had wanted began to come.

“That… couldn’t be true.”

“Han-geon, I…”

He gently reached out and grabbed Han-geon’s forearm.

Han-geon, with his broken expression, obediently looked up.

“I don’t want our bond to crack over nothing.”

“…..”

“You’re the only one I have.

Without you… I’d be lonely.”

The last words hit like a strike.

Han-geon still seemed like the elementary school kid sitting alone on a bench, watching friends play.

Such words always had a perfect effect.

“…I’m sorry.

I… didn’t realize you felt that strongly.”

Hearing his apology, humble and soft, sent a jolt of pleasure through Eun-gyeol’s lower stomach.

The fierce anger in Han-geon’s usually low voice had washed away, leaving a delicate, apologetic murmur.

Seeing him flustered and uneasy made him look beautiful.

Eun-gyeol smiled warmly.

“It’s okay.

Now, let’s go eat.”
“Mm.”

They laughed and joked while eating, just like usual.

Yet that strange discomfort lingered—a subtle slackening in the reins of their relationship.

This wasn’t the first time they’d argued over something like this.

This wouldn’t do.

Eun-gyeol felt it instinctively.

If he continued to appeal to Han-geon’s emotions to maintain their bond, Han-geon would eventually tire.

If that happened… if the energy to sustain their special relationship ran out, Han-geon would start distancing himself.

Then Eun-gyeol would be just another person among the many fragments of Han-geon’s connections.

Eventually, he would become just one more acquaintance.

The once-strong bond would loosen.

A study mate, a friend occasionally meeting during busy college life, someone they’d only occasionally share a meal with… that would be the end.

His fists clenched tightly.

No way.

He would never allow anyone else to share Han-geon with him, nor would he want their connection to fade into something casual.

From the start, Han-geon had belonged to him.

And he would remain his.

No one could interfere.

Whenever anyone thought of Han-geon, they had to naturally think of Cha Eun-gyeol.

Their bond could not drift apart.

There could be no alternatives in Han-geon’s life.

The only choice available had to be him.

Hangeol could not be excluded from Han-geon’s life in any circumstance.

To ensure that, he needed to provide momentum.

A force to make Han-geon keep his eyes solely on him.

Crying, whining, throwing fits—those were tactics that only worked in elementary school.

Now, as adults-in-the-making, Eun-gyeol didn’t know how long appealing emotionally would continue to work.

He remembered the fireworks from the Ferris wheel—the way Han-geon’s eyes had captured them.

The emotions he’d surely tried to hide, blazing hotter than any reflection of fireworks in his pupils.

He wasn’t creating a new fire, nor fueling a dying one—just reminding him.

Letting a fire that was already bright burn even more beautifully.

***

[Come to the playground after your academy.]

Han-geon usually returned from the academy around ten.

He’d go home, wash up, rest a bit, then study until around 1 a.m.

Eun-gyeol knew this pattern, so he arrived at the playground a bit before ten to wait.

He sat on the swing they used to play on as kids.

The chains had been replaced with safer materials over time.

The sandbox where they’d jumped in puddles and played was gone, replaced by neatly laid urethane.

He gently swung back and forth, glancing at the pretty moon in the night sky.

The stars weren’t as visible as before, but a few still shone.

He tilted his head and gazed at the sky, occasionally glancing at the shopping bag beside him.

Will he like it?

He was confident he would.

Thinking of the joy on Han-geon’s face made him smile.

He hoped he’d come soon.

It didn’t take long for Han-geon to arrive, cheeks flushed pink, panting as he ran.

He must’ve started running immediately after getting off the bus.

“You’re here?”
“Yeah.

What’s up?

Shouldn’t you still be at the academy at this hour?”

Han-geon seemed equally happy to see him.

Though they had seen each other at school earlier, meeting like this at night was rare since Eun-gyeol usually stayed at the practice room until late.

Seeing him greet Eun-gyeol honestly, like a beloved pet, made him smile.

“Yeah, but I wanted to see you at night—it’s been a while.”
“…Ah, I see.”

His rapidly blinking eyes were cute.

Eun-gyeol noticed the heat blooming on Han-geon’s cheeks and handed him the shopping bag.

“Here.”
“Huh?

What’s this?”
“Open it.”

Han-geon, looking puzzled, pulled a box from the bag.

When he opened it, his eyes widened in shock, mouth agape.

“This… this is it!

Why all of a sudden…?”
“I got it for you.

Is it okay?”
“Yeah, it’s pretty… but…”

Looking up, he still seemed dazed.

The gift was a limited edition pair of sneakers inspired by a sports manga Han-geon had loved since childhood.

Eun-gyeol had scoured the internet for days to secure them.

“This must have been hard to get… and expensive too.”
“It’s fine.

I’ve been working part-time lately.”
“Still… it’s hot, and you worked hard taking pictures… spending money like this…”

Since high school, Eun-gyeol had occasionally worked as a model online when he needed extra cash.

Unlike typical part-time work, it only involved changing outfits and taking photos, but Han-geon pitied him as if he were doing manual labor.

Even now, Han-geon still worried about him that much—just because he was skinny and frail as a child.

Eun-gyeol didn’t mind—it actually felt nice.

“It’s fine.

Shooting went smoothly.

More importantly, how do you like the sneakers?

Do you like them?”
“Of course!

I love them!”

Han-geon’s innocent eyes immediately brightened.

Despite his size, hugging the sneakers and speaking excitedly made him look like a delighted child.

“They’re so pretty.

I’ve really wanted these… but thank you… I’m not sure I deserve them.”
“Don’t say that.

Are we not close enough for this?”

Instead of just enjoying the gift, he quickly worried again, and Eun-gyeol didn’t like that.

He pinched Han-geon’s cheeks gently.

Watching him scrunch up his face in mock pain made Eun-gyeol chuckle.

He felt relief.

The heat in Han-geon’s hands wasn’t just from the weather.

Smiling warmly, he met Han-geon’s gaze, and his face flushed even more.

When Han-geon’s trembling eyes tried to avoid him, Eun-gyeol teasingly followed his gaze, forcing eye contact.

Even Han-geon’s startled attempt to push his hand away was fun.

“H-Hey, stop.

It’s… too much, damn it.”
“Why?”

He lingered, teasing further.

After confirming that Han-geon’s ears and neck were completely red, he slowly pulled away.

Sitting side by side on the swing, the moon looked even prettier than before.

With a genuinely satisfied heart, they swayed slowly and chatted about trivial things, while Eun-gyeol silently reaffirmed his own determination:

No matter what shitty method it takes,
you will always stay closest to me, within my reach.