Chapter 28: Anxiety and the Standard of Affection

The societal cycle of those who experience periodic “cycles” was often shadowed by labels of violence or unethical behavior. It was a natural consequence; anything in excess can become poison, and the incidents arising from Ruts and Heats constantly fueled negative public opinion.

While the younger generation held fewer prejudices toward Alphas and Omegas thanks to improved public education and government efforts, the older generation still harbored a cold, judgmental gaze.

Yunhwan fell into the former category—he didn’t hold personal prejudices—but having been exposed to the sensationalized issues plastered across the media, he couldn’t help but flinch at the mere mention of a “Rut.”

As Yunhwan hesitated, feeling an instinctive repulsion he hadn’t intended to show, Junseong continued his explanation as if he fully anticipated this reaction.

“You don’t need to worry. I just finished administering a suppressant. The kind of situation you’re concerned about won’t happen.”

“…Ah.”

Feeling a wave of relief, the tension in Yunhwan’s brow finally dissolved.

“Come to think of it, we’re entering the third week of treatment next week. Time really flies, doesn’t it?”

Junseong gave a light clap, as if to refresh the heavy atmosphere. Since they had already completed four sessions—twice a week—next week marked the third. According to his plan, Yunhwan’s role would become even more critical from that point onward. Scanning the dates on the plain white calendar, Junseong turned his head toward Yunhwan.

“There will be a slight change in the treatment method starting next week, Yunhwan-ssi.”

“A change?”

Yunhwan’s eyes widened, and Junseong added, “Seonghye seems to find the injections quite unpleasant; he’s been irritable during every session. Conveniently, a good new drug has just been released. I decided it would be better for him to take a pill rather than receive an injection.”

“If it’s a new drug, what about side effects…?”

“Side effects? Well, you don’t need to worry about that. I guarantee you, it’s perfectly fine.”

At Junseong’s confident tone, Yunhwan nodded slowly. Though he had blurted out the question about side effects out of genuine concern for Seonghye, he had nothing left to say in the face of Junseong’s firm reassurance.

Inside the Quiet Hospital Room.

The white door opened slowly, and a human presence entered the space blanketed in deep darkness.

Wary of making even the slightest noise, Yunhwan walked across the floor twice as carefully as usual. His cautious steps, as if walking on thin glass, led him to the bed by the window. Passing the blinds and the small, cute potted plant on the sill, Yunhwan reached the long bed and finally let out a soft breath.

“…….”

He looked down to see Seonghye lying there like a painting. Under the dim moonlight, his sleeping face was so pale it made Yunhwan’s eyes ache, and the trace of blood he hadn’t managed to fully wipe from his lips created a desolate air. He looked like someone who wouldn’t be out of place if he had been hauled off to a police station or a judicial morgue.

Yunhwan gazed at him silently before reaching out to the blanket that had slipped down to Seonghye’s chest. Once he pulled the covers back up over the broad frame, Seonghye finally looked like a proper patient—though he had been one all along.

The harmony of the nose casting deep shadows over heavily closed eyelids and the firmly shut lips felt colder than ever tonight. This man, who looked as if he lived only to embrace frozen ice, melted away into nothing but warmth whenever he was before Yunhwan.

Looking at that face, the events of a few hours ago flickered back into Yunhwan’s mind—specifically, what Seonghye had said when Yunhwan insisted they go to the hospital.

‘I’ll be fine in a moment. I’m really okay, so let’s go, please.’

You said you were okay. You clearly weren’t, so why did you say you were?

Reflecting on the day, Yunhwan felt as though he should be the one exploding with emotion or anger, not the other way around. He slowly took a step back, widening the distance between them again.

Standing there for a moment, watching over Seonghye, Yunhwan whispered to himself, “…What was so…?”

What was so upsetting and sad for you? The words he was about to utter vanished when Seonghye’s eyelids flickered. As Yunhwan’s gaze landed on the trembling lashes, the thin skin slid up as if waiting for this moment, revealing ink-dark eyes.

“…….”

Seonghye blinked at the ceiling of the dark hospital room. For a second, Yunhwan thought he might fall back into his lingering sleep.

“Hyung.”

“…….”

“Come closer.”

The voice, heavy with sleep, carried a clear demand. When Yunhwan hesitated, Seonghye slowly tilted his head toward him. In the deep silence, he spoke again.

“Come… closer, Hyung.”

Seonghye’s voice was deeper than ever; if one didn’t listen closely, they wouldn’t realize that the plea was actually a strained sound forced out through gritted teeth.

“I know.”

A self-mocking laugh escaped Seonghye’s crimson lips. His self-derision held a certain eerie quality. Stopping his laughter, he whispered slowly, “I know I did something wrong.”

The end of his voice wavered precariously. His face looked as fragile as glass about to shatter, causing Yunhwan to gulp reflexively.

“My body has been strange for a few days.”

“…….”

“Several times a day, my head spins, and even when I’m sitting still, I lose my breath. I thought I might just die like this.”

Seonghye sat up in bed and stared intently at Yunhwan.

“When you’re near me, I want to touch you, I want to hold you. It probably sounds creepy to you, but I was desperate.”

He stopped and covered his eyes with his hand. The cheek he couldn’t hide crumpled, and his lips twisted fiercely, his expression becoming one of pure agony.

“But do you know what’s more terrifying?” His voice trembled thinly again. “Every time I come to this hospital, the needles they stick in me… they make it so I can’t feel you anymore….”

The anxiety Seonghye had been desperately hiding was finally exposed to Yunhwan. As he lowered his hand, his eyes revealed pupils that had lost their way under a fierce gaze.

“You probably don’t know how anxious I get every time a needle enters my arm.”

As his facade of composure crumbled, the long-repressed frustration reared its head. Seonghye’s lips moved as if trying to say something, his face still smelling of blood, but his voice broke without strength, leaving Yunhwan unable to catch the words.

What are you so afraid of that you can’t even speak your mind?

Rubbing his face with a thin hand, Seonghye looked up at Yunhwan, who had now walked right up to the bed. The eyes searching Yunhwan’s face were frantic.

“Should I… stop the pheromone treatment?”

Yunhwan flinched and stared at him. “…What?”

Before he could even ask for clarification, Seonghye leaned forward.

“When I receive treatment, I can’t ‘read’ you like I used to. Before, I could guess what you did and who you met, but the more treatment I get, the less it works the way I want it to.”

Seonghye wrapped his arms around Yunhwan’s waist. The hands that had been twitching with anxiety now locked firmly behind Yunhwan’s back.

“…No more injections.”

The voice that made the decision was remarkably firm. Remembering his conversation with Junseong before entering the room, Yunhwan nodded slightly in understanding.

Knowing the inner thoughts Seonghye had been hiding so deeply allowed Yunhwan to understand him a bit more. The “well” of this man’s mind, which had been too dark to see into, was simply filled to the brim with anxiety.

Yunhwan gently stroked the back of Seonghye’s head. He ran his fingers through the fine hair, letting it slip through and then catching it again.

Slowly, Seonghye’s breathing began to even out and calm. The emotional fluctuations, which had been as volatile as a violent storm, gradually settled.

Yunhwan asked softly, “Has it been… very hard for you?”

At that, a small snort of a laugh came from Seonghye, who had his forehead buried against Yunhwan’s stomach.

“…?”

Thinking he might have misheard, Yunhwan tilted his head down. But all he could see was the top of Seonghye’s head and the strong arms wrapped around his waist. As he tapped Seonghye’s head with his fingertips, the man’s head slowly lifted as if on cue.

“How could it not be hard when the person I’m supposed to follow and chase disappears? I feel like I’m dying.”

“…Stop saying you’re dying.”

First Seong-pil, now you.

When Yunhwan tried to take a step back, the arms around his waist tightened significantly.

“Look at this. What did you even hear from what I just said? I told you it’s hard because I can’t feel you, so how can you try to leave already?”

The grumbling complaint was almost like a pouting child. Refusing to let go, Seonghye squeezed his upper body so tightly that Yunhwan, standing there, momentarily staggered.