Chapter 132: When I Finally Realized I Missed You

“……Hyung, think about it again.”

“Huh? No—wait, what year is it now, cough, cough!”

Still looking utterly bewildered, Seong Ji-woo kept asking questions until he broke into a hacking cough. Yoo Hee-ro sighed deeply as he watched him. Even as he poured bottled water into a glass, his lips kept jutting out in a sulk.

“Is that really the first thing you say the moment you wake up?”

“Uh….”

Only then did Seong Ji-woo finally look at Yoo Hee-ro’s face. Now that his eyes had adjusted to the light, he could clearly see the expression full of quiet hurt. It looked like the Yoo Hee-ro from their high school days—and yet, not quite.

Something was subtly different…

“Did you… lose weight?”

It felt like some of the baby fat had faded. Like you’ve really grown up now. When Seong Ji-woo awkwardly tacked on that vague remark, Yoo Hee-ro was left with an expression caught somewhere between laughter and tears.

Regardless, Seong Ji-woo was already convinced on his own that he’d gone back to the past. Otherwise, there was no way Yoo Hee-ro’s light brown hair and eyes—his trademark that had vanished once he became an adult—could have returned.

Of course, that change had happened because something went wrong with Yoo Hee-ro’s ability…

Seong Ji-woo rolled his eyes and glanced at him again. Then, after thinking for a long moment, he glanced once more. It wasn’t intentional—his unconscious mind was acting on its own.

Each time their eyes met, expectation swelled in Yoo Hee-ro’s gaze. But Seong Ji-woo was too busy floundering in his own thoughts to notice.

“So… I died again in the end.”

He had thought that once the X-Gate was dealt with, nothing else would go wrong. Smacking his lips bitterly, Seong Ji-woo frowned as his parched throat screamed in protest. At that perfectly timed moment, Yoo Hee-ro brought a cup of water to his lips.

Seong Ji-woo accepted it naturally, taking small sips as he continued thinking.

“…Wait. Was there ever a past like this?”

No matter how hard he searched his memory, he couldn’t recall being hospitalized in high school. But this was clearly a hospital…

Seong Ji-woo lifted his head. Yoo Hee-ro was still looking at him.

“Uh…”

“How long am I supposed to wait?”

Yoo Hee-ro asked softly, his gentle eyes shining.

“Ah.”

At that moment, the ticking of the second hand sounded unusually loud. Our time was still moving forward—together.

“So, just a second… time, um… we didn’t die, did we…?”

Even as Seong Ji-woo’s words broke off awkwardly, Yoo Hee-ro listened quietly, nodding along. No matter what those long-awaited words contained, hearing Seong Ji-woo’s voice was enough.

“Are you okay? This… how did this even…?”

Seong Ji-woo’s hand was blatantly pointing at Yoo Hee-ro’s hair. Yoo Hee-ro tapped his own finger against Seong Ji-woo’s, grinning playfully.

“I told you earlier—think about it again. Is that really what you wanted to say the moment you opened your eyes?”

Only then did Seong Ji-woo finally read the room and let out a hollow laugh.

“Hey, even now you’re still—”

Even so, Yoo Hee-ro realized he felt relieved that Seong Ji-woo seemed fine, and that realization itself felt ridiculous.

Covering Seong Ji-woo’s eyes with his palm, Yoo Hee-ro spoke.

“Alright. Close your eyes again. Say it when you open them.”

“What?”

“I missed you, Hee-ro.”

Seong Ji-woo chuckled. The chaos in his head cleared instantly, replaced by a rush of vivid emotions.

Yoo Hee-ro removed his hand. Wanting to tease him, Seong Ji-woo stubbornly kept his eyes shut.

“…Hyung?”

At first, Yoo Hee-ro called him lightly. The second time was more insistent, the third tinged with dread, and the fourth sounded like a plea.

“Hyung, please. Please.”

The moment he felt trembling hands touch his cheek, Seong Ji-woo realized this was going too far. He hadn’t expected Yoo Hee-ro to be this frightened, and instead of payback, guilt washed over him.

He knew exactly how Yoo Hee-ro must have felt while waiting.

“….”

Seong Ji-woo slowly opened his eyes and spoke in a slightly hoarse voice, emotion swelling in his chest.

“I missed you.”

“…Say my name too.”

“Yoo Hee-ro.”

“Not like that.”

Though he thought he was being picky, Seong Ji-woo still gave him what he wanted.

“Alright, Hee-ro. I missed you.”

Yoo Hee-ro’s face lit up. Watching him, Seong Ji-woo realized something—he hadn’t actually missed Yoo Hee-ro.

He didn’t know how long he’d been unconscious, but throughout that entire time, he’d been seeing Yoo Hee-ro. Yoo Hee-ro existed everywhere in the memories Seong Ji-woo drifted through.

So he had simply been looking at the Yoo Hee-ro in his memories, until he finally met the real one again. There’d been no room for longing.

“I waited well, didn’t I?”

…Or maybe not.

Seong Ji-woo blinked slowly as he met Yoo Hee-ro’s brimming gaze.

The person before him was Yoo Hee-ro—but also not. He was subtly different from the Yoo Hee-ro in his memories.

‘Why does this feel so strange?’

Seong Ji-woo raised a hand to his chest. Yoo Hee-ro startled.

“Does your heart hurt? Should I call the doctor?”

“…No.”

Seong Ji-woo reached out. After a brief hesitation, Yoo Hee-ro seemed to understand and gently pressed his face into Seong Ji-woo’s palm. Seong Ji-woo brushed his thumb over Yoo Hee-ro’s cheek and the corner of his eye.

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The warmth of his soft skin felt vividly real. He pressed lightly on his eyelids, brushed against ticklish eyelashes, even ruffled his hair.

All the way to the roots, Yoo Hee-ro’s hair had turned light brown. Even as his hair was thoroughly messed up, Yoo Hee-ro didn’t flinch.

“Hmm…”

After staring at him for a long moment, Seong Ji-woo muttered quietly.

“So… I really did miss you.”

Something that didn’t exist in the past, but did now.

The one who had changed wasn’t Yoo Hee-ro—it was the way Seong Ji-woo looked at him.

“Hyung.”

The lower voice rang in his ears. Thump—his heart dropped.

“…What?”

“Can I hug you?”

“What?”

“It still doesn’t feel real that you’re awake…”

Yoo Hee-ro added his clumsy excuse, checking Seong Ji-woo’s reaction. Finding him both embarrassing and cute, Seong Ji-woo snorted.

“Then make it feel real. Come on.”

He opened his arms, and Yoo Hee-ro carefully wrapped them around him. It was a light embrace, barely putting any weight on him.

“So? Feel real now?”

“…Yes.”

Afraid of straining him, Yoo Hee-ro barely leaned in. Yet their two hearts began beating in the same rhythm.

“…I think it’s starting to feel real for me too.”

Seong Ji-woo muttered with a sigh, his emotions tangled. His heart felt unsteady, like he was carsick.

As Yoo Hee-ro pulled away, his hair fell softly with gravity, drawing Seong Ji-woo’s attention again.

“So then what’s with your hair? Why did it change all of a sudden? Is something wrong?”

“Ah, this….”

Only then did Yoo Hee-ro remember his condition, scratching his cheek blankly.

“I don’t really know either. When I came to, it was already like this…”

“…What?”

“And maybe because of that, the side effects from my ability seem to be gone too.”

Seong Ji-woo straightened abruptly and grabbed Yoo Hee-ro’s shoulders, inspecting him from head to toe.

“Is that true? Then your body—your body is—!”

“I’m fine. I fully recovered while you were out.”

Seeing Seong Ji-woo’s doubtful expression, Yoo Hee-ro lifted his arms and mimed exercising.

“Now all that’s left is for you to get better.”

“I’m obviously—”

Pain struck mid-sentence. Seong Ji-woo groaned, cold sweat breaking out as his heart lurched and nausea twisted his stomach.

“…Hyung!”

Yoo Hee-ro jumped up in a panic, grabbed the painkillers from the drawer, and handed them over. Fighting down the urge to vomit, Seong Ji-woo barely swallowed them before leaning back against the headboard, breathing deeply.

“Are… are you okay?”

“Yeah… but my ability doesn’t seem okay.”

The sudden pain had come from trying to use it. The agony was so intense he didn’t dare try again, and Seong Ji-woo let out a shaky laugh through the sweat.

“…It’s because of me, isn’t it?”

“What? No. How could this be your fault?”

Even as he said that, Seong Ji-woo remembered what had happened right before he lost consciousness. When Yoo Hee-ro’s darkness surged, the light inside his body had poured out like his blood was draining away.

He’d even thought, Ah, I’m going to die like this. His ability had been completely exhausted. It wasn’t hard to guess that was why he’d woken up so late.

But that wasn’t Yoo Hee-ro’s fault.

“Did I… attack you?”

He’d been more worried that his out-of-control power might hurt Yoo Hee-ro.

“…It was warm.”

“Huh?”

“It felt like you were hugging me.”

Seong Ji-woo laughed helplessly. As Yoo Hee-ro recalled that moment, he fell silent, then casually picked up Seong Ji-woo’s hand from atop the blanket.

He threaded their fingers together, released them, then laced them again—tighter this time.

“Come to think of it… I think you’re right.”

“About what?”

Certainty filled Yoo Hee-ro’s clear eyes. Facing that transparency made Seong Ji-woo oddly shy, and he averted his gaze.

But Yoo Hee-ro patiently followed it until their eyes met again.

“My hair color. I think it changed because of your ability.”

“Come on… no way.”

Seong Ji-woo scoffed, but Yoo Hee-ro didn’t waver.

“…Really?”