Chapter 7: A Night of Confessions and Confrontations

A mere two subway stops separated them. While not a significant distance, Friday morning rush hour had predictably snarled traffic.

In the awkward silence, Do-ha settled his messenger bag neatly on his lap, his fingers restlessly drumming against its surface.

“Um…”

“Do-ha.”

Their words collided, set against the backdrop of a radio playing with detached formality. Do-ha, flustered, quickly sealed his lips.

‘Unless there’s a particular reason, let’s commute together. Be in Parking Zone A at 8 AM.’

As he replayed the emotionless voice in his mind, dissecting the precise meaning of the words, Do-ha found his gaze drawn to Tae-jun, despite his earlier vow to avoid looking at him.

“Why?”

“……”

Tae-jun remained silent throughout their drive, even after they had reached the company parking lot. Do-ha, in turn, kept his gaze fixed on his face.

Unlike his eyes, which stared resolutely ahead, Tae-jun’s jawline was sharply defined, a noticeable tension in his profile. The veins on the back of his hand, typically subtle, now pulsed with an unusual prominence.

“Yes.”

A saying he had once heard resurfaced in his memory.

The one who loves more is always the guilty party.

Despite the indignation, the resentment, and the anger coiling within him, Do-ha found a strange solace in simply being with Tae-jun, a man who neither liked nor loved him.

“Are you angry? …Hate me. It will be easier for you.”

Angry? Do-ha’s hesitation, as he searched for an appropriate response to the accusation, allowed Tae-jun’s subsequent words to ignite a genuine fury within him.

The car paused briefly as it entered the company lot, caught in the morning rush of other commuters. In that fleeting moment, Do-ha abruptly exited Tae-jun’s vehicle.

He desperately wanted to disbelieve it, yet Jia’s words echoed in his mind: Kang Tae-jun, that Alpha, was undeniably a playboy, casually toying with people’s emotions.

****

“Do-ha, are you going all out tonight?”

Do-ha, oblivious to the identity of the person refilling his glass beside him, simply nodded and accepted the drink with both hands.

It was a celebratory dinner, marking both the conclusion of a project that had consumed several weeks, and the return of Tae-jun from his temporary assignment.

On a Friday night, the team’s spirits soared, and glasses circulated continuously.

Even Do-ha, who habitually declared his limit to be two glasses of soju, found himself thoroughly immersed in the convivial atmosphere.

The soju, usually so sharp, had never tasted this sweet. He was well aware of his drinking habit—a deep, memory-erasing slumber once sufficiently intoxicated—yet he found himself unable to stop.

Ignoring the array of appetizers before him, Do-ha fixated his gaze on Tae-jun—the man who had, that very morning, told him to hate him. With a defiant gulp, he drained another glass of soju.

Was it alcohol or water? The distinction blurred.

Initially, he’d felt the bitter burn descending his esophagus, the distinctive aroma lingering on his tongue. But at some point, even those sensations had vanished.

A gentle smile now softened Tae-jun’s face, typically so rigid and devoid of expression.

Do-ha, who had been silently observing Tae-jun, surrounded by colleagues since the start of the dinner, slowly rose from his seat. An intern and a team leader—their ranks dictated a considerable distance between them.

Tae-jun was engaged in conversation with the section chief beside him, clinking glasses, when a touch on his thigh made him turn his head.

Do-ha’s cheeks were flushed deeper than usual, and his eyes, too, appeared subtly reddened.

Tae-jun paused, caught by Do-ha’s slow, deliberate blink and unwavering gaze.

“Team Leader.”

Though Do-ha’s eyes appeared slightly unfocused, his speech remained clear and steady, prompting Tae-jun to subtly straighten his posture.

“Yes.”

Noticing the empty soju glass in Do-ha’s hand, Tae-jun poured him a glass of cool mineral water.

“Thank you.”

Do-ha, adhering to impeccable drinking etiquette, accepted the glass with both hands and turned slightly to drink. Yet, unlike his flawless conduct, he offered no further words after downing the mineral water.

“Drink in moderation. If you wish to go home, just say the word. We can leave together.”

Given his inability to discern the taste of alcohol from mere soju, Do-ha was clearly intoxicated. Tae-jun subtly glanced at his wristwatch.

“The contract on Monday is truly crucial, so for you, Team Leader…”

A gentle smile, uncharacteristic of his usual expression, graced Tae-jun’s lips as he watched Do-ha rummage through the messenger bag slung across his body.

‘Is he wearing it so he won’t lose it?’

“Ha…”

He rummaged for a considerable time before letting out a deep sigh. Unaware of anyone else, Tae-jun absorbed every detail of Do-ha’s actions.

“This, you see, is my lucky charm. I’ve truly never lent it to anyone else, but since it’s you, Team Leader…”

As Do-ha fumbled to retrieve something, then gently guided Tae-jun’s hand, Tae-jun found himself unable to pull away or stop the delicate touch.

An undeniable urge surged through Tae-jun: to firmly grasp that soft, small hand in his own.

Moments later, a small fist belonging to Do-ha settled onto his wide-open palm, and Tae-jun felt the soft, yielding texture of cloth against his skin.

“Truly, truly, I cherish this, so you absolutely must return it after the contract on Monday.”

Perhaps not wanting others to see, Do-ha’s small hand quickly withdrew, then curled Tae-jun’s fingers into a fist around the object. This action drew a soft chuckle from Tae-jun.

“What is th—”

“Shh!”

Tae-jun, on the verge of opening his hand to examine the item, was suddenly enveloped in Do-ha’s embrace, his fist trapped. He found himself instinctively returning the hug.

“It’s my treasure.”

Do-ha, his small hand covering Tae-jun’s lips, smiled with a boyish innocence.

“But you must return it, absolutely.”

With those final words, Do-ha, nestled securely in Tae-jun’s arms, became utterly still.

“Do-ha? Oh my, he must have fallen asleep.”

Tae-jun attempted to adjust the sleeping Do-ha, who lay still and breathing evenly, into a more comfortable position. However, the section chief’s words beside him caused his brow to furrow instinctively.

“Is he really asleep? Look at him, sleeping like a baby. These days, I practically come to work just for the pleasure of seeing Do-ha.”

“He’s diligent, quick-witted, and he handles tasks well. Honestly, all that aside, just seeing Do-ha brightens my mood—what more could one ask for? Team Leader, you’ll write a recommendation letter for our Do-ha, won’t you?”

As the section chief spoke, the eyes of the conversing team members invariably drifted towards Do-ha.

Tae-jun found the team members’ collective gaze on Do-ha deeply unsettling. A childish jealousy flared within him—jealousy towards those who had seen Do-ha, whom he himself hadn’t even properly observed, a full couple of months before he had.

Tae-jun draped his own coat around Do-ha, then carefully helped the sleeping man to his feet.

“I’m leaving the company card here; please drink responsibly.”

Was he truly so deeply asleep that he wouldn’t stir even if carried away? It seemed they were alike in this, too.

During the brief walk to the parked car, Tae-jun held Do-ha tightly, concerned that the chilly wind might make him cold, or that others might catch a glimpse of his sleeping face.

As Do-ha’s hair brushed against his face in the cold night wind, Tae-jun gently pressed his lips to Do-ha’s forehead.

Even as the designated driver arrived and they headed home, Tae-jun’s expression settled into a profound darkness. He silently stroked Do-ha’s head, the younger man still deeply asleep in his arms, showing no sign of waking.

Bringing the deeply sleeping Do-ha back to his own house was a purely impulsive decision. His rational mind screamed that he should be taking him home, yet, inexplicably, Do-ha now lay upon Tae-jun’s bed.

As Tae-jun’s hand, suspended in the air, trembled and began to move, Do-ha’s clothing vanished, piece by piece.

The bedroom was illuminated solely by the faint glow of moonlight.

Do-ha lay sprawled across the expansive bed, while Tae-jun sat perched on its edge.

As his suit jacket, the constricting tie, and finally his white shirt were shed, Tae-jun’s breathing grew noticeably ragged.

Do-ha’s delicate body lay exposed. Tae-jun’s hand, striving to avert his gaze from the charming peaks on Do-ha’s chest, reached for the buckle of his own suit trousers.

Tae-jun’s hesitant hand moved a few times, then stilled. A heavy silence descended upon the bedroom, broken only by the steady rhythm of Do-ha’s breathing, clad only in his boxers.

In the dimness, Tae-jun’s anxiously trembling eyes fixated on the area near Do-ha’s iliac crest. A dark mole stood out against his pristine white skin. As Tae-jun’s quivering fingertips gently lowered the waistband of the boxers, two distinct moles near the iliac crest became fully visible.

These were the very moles he hadn’t noticed during that frenzied night spent with Do-ha, when both were deep in their cups.

Do-ha’s striking resemblance to Jin had led him to subconsciously conclude that Do-ha *was* Jin. Yet, a persistent thread of doubt had always remained.

If even the moles, located in such a private, hidden place, were identical… Tae-jun found his hand reaching out instinctively, gently cupping Do-ha’s delicate pelvis. Following an old habit, his thumb began to trace the two moles near the iliac crest.

“Mmm.”

Do-ha, who had been breathing evenly until now, mumbled and stirred as if talking in his sleep. Tae-jun hastily withdrew his hand from Do-ha’s body.

‘Damn it.’

Forgetting to cover him with a blanket, Tae-jun stumbled out of the bedroom, rubbing his face furiously with both hands. Had Do-ha not stirred, he couldn’t guarantee what might have happened.

The memory of Do-ha’s heated interior and his tear-streaked face clinging to his arm flashed before him. Tae-jun stepped into the shower stall and turned on the water.

****

Though tears welled at the corners of Jin’s eyes, Woon moved with even greater intensity.

Jin’s neatly manicured fingertips raked across Woon’s chest. His neck and shoulders, arched back in ecstasy, gleamed in the moonlight.

Each time Jin bounced up from Woon’s rough thrusts below, only to descend again, a faint moan escaped his lips.

“Ah… more… more…”

Woon gripped Jin’s slender hips with both hands, rocking him fiercely, and the wet, slapping sounds echoed through the darkness.

Woon’s thumbs rubbed the two moles near Jin’s iliac crest. Below, where their bodies met without a sliver of space, overflowed with Jin’s release.

As Jin’s body, writhing in unbearable pleasure, became drenched once more, Woon could no longer hold back, unleashing his full essence deep inside him.

The slick, wrinkled inner walls of Jin’s passage contracted tightly around Woon’s erection, squeezing out every last drop. Woon gasped for breath.

“Are you tired?”

Noticing Woon seemed more exhausted than usual and feeling the once firm erection inside him soften, Jin gently stroked Woon’s chest with his palm.

Woon’s face was damp with sweat, his eyes flushed with arousal.

Seeing the tears glistening at the tips of Jin’s long eyelashes, Woon reached out and pulled Jin closer.

His lips, which had lingered on Jin’s forehead, brow, eyes, and nose, now lightly settled on Jin’s slightly parted mouth.

“Just a moment.”

Woon caught his breath, then subtly shifted, rolling them over until Do-ha was beneath him. Seeing the marks he had left on Do-ha’s body from their previous encounters, his previously shrinking arousal surged once more.

Do-ha, flushed crimson all over, spread his legs wide with both hands, fully exposing his intimate region to Woon.

The entrance, swollen plump from their coupling, gaped slightly, oozing a pale fluid that stained the bedding beneath his buttocks in a growing circle.

“Come… enter. Make me… even more of a mess.”

At Jin’s voice, thick with anticipation and excited moans, Woon’s fully engorged member plunged unhesitatingly inside.

As the long shaft forcefully thrust inward, displaced fluids dampened Woon’s pubic hair, and the rapid movements filled the room with obscene, squelching sounds.

“Yes… Hngh… harder.”

At Jin’s mumbled words, as he wrapped his slender legs around Woon’s waist, Woon’s movements intensified.

****

Cold water cascaded over Tae-jun’s head, still dressed in his clothes, but he didn’t flinch, letting the water hit him.

Once started, his thoughts spiraled, one after another.

Jin’s vivid, sensual image, which grew clearer the harder he tried to forget it. The excited moans and words, full of desire and free of shyness, echoed in his ears.

Hating himself for such thoughts, Tae-jun slid down the shower wall to the floor. His lower region, revealing his raw instincts, pulsed beneath his soaked, clinging clothes.

Suddenly, he remembered the item Do-ha had given him at the dinner. He recalled hastily stuffing it into his pants pocket, without a chance to examine it.

Tae-jun pulled out the soft, already drenched piece of cloth. He slowly unfolded the small fabric in his hand.

“Seo Do-ha, what am I going to do with you? Even our tastes are the same.”

A palm-sized piece of cloth. Tae-jun’s grip tightened around it, and he let out a hollow laugh, his voice a low murmur.

It was already so difficult to push Do-ha away. How much longer could he resist him? Tae-jun closed his eyes, remaining seated in the shower until all the heat had drained from his body.