Chapter 49: A Meal and a Confession

Yeon-chae had many questions for Yoonwoo. Why the sudden decision? What thoughts led to such a choice? Was he not afraid?

Although Yeon-chae had always wanted Yoonwoo to have the baby, he wasn’t entirely fearless himself. Still, imagining a baby that resembled both Yoonwoo and him, perfectly split between them, made all his worries vanish.

His heart would flutter, suspended in the air. If anything, he thought it would be even better if the baby resembled Yoonwoo entirely, rather than just half.

Yet, at the same time, he also wanted to ask nothing at all. Whatever the reason, whatever decision Yoonwoo had made, Yeon-chae had shown a less-than-stellar side of himself last time. He wanted to support Yoonwoo without wavering further.

So, Yeon-chae pushed aside all the questions that came to mind and asked the most crucial one.

“Yoon-hyung. Have you had dinner?”

Yoonwoo’s expression suddenly turned wistful.

“No…”

It seemed to have just dawned on him that it was almost nine o’clock, well past eight-thirty, and he still hadn’t eaten dinner. Yoonwoo rubbed his stomach, a sorrowful look on his face.

“What about you?”

“I haven’t eaten either.”

Having been sick and confined to bed for several days, there was no pre-made food. Yeon-chae assessed the ingredients in the refrigerator.

Unfortunately, the most crucial item—pork belly—was missing for Yoonwoo’s favorite pork belly kimchi gimbap. Instead, a few simple dishes came to mind.

Yeon-chae carefully considered the menu and asked Yoonwoo.

“What would you like me to make?”

“It’s late, and you’ll be bothered. Let’s just order something.”

“It’s no bother. What do you feel like eating?”

“You’ll make anything I want?”

“Pardon? Yes, I will.”

Yeon-chae nodded readily, envisioning seafood pancakes, mussel soup, or bulgogi. Yoonwoo, who had been staring intently at Yeon-chae, suddenly grew serious. What could he possibly ask for?

Yeon-chae, tense from Yoonwoo’s change in expression, also met his gaze with a grave look.

“Ganjang Gejang.”

“Pardon?”

“Ganjang Gejang.”

It felt like he was teasing him.

“You said you’d make anything.”

“I can’t make that right now…”

Yeon-chae finally mumbled, his face flustered. No matter how much he wanted to be a vending machine that dispensed whatever Yoonwoo desired, ganjang gejang was simply impossible.

“Even if I make the soy sauce, it takes days to marinate the crabs…”

As Yeon-chae muttered in a shrinking voice, Yoonwoo’s thumb and other fingers pinched his cheeks. The more Yoonwoo squeezed, the more Yeon-chae’s lips pursed out like a duck’s beak.

Yoonwoo grinned widely, his eyes crinkling until they almost disappeared.

“Relax. I was just teasing.”

So he was teasing.

It was truly vexing.

Yeon-chae pouted for a moment, then, realizing it wasn’t the time, quickly straightened his expression. He stood at attention, looking down at Yoonwoo, who slowly observed him and cocked his head.

It seemed he had noticed Yeon-chae’s pale complexion.

A flicker of worry crossed Yoonwoo’s face as he cautiously touched Yeon-chae’s cheek.

“Are you sick, though?”

“No.”

Yeon-chae answered without even breathing. He couldn’t afford to appear any less reliable. As he was about to become a father, Yeon-chae wanted to be strong enough for Yoonwoo to always lean on.

Getting laid low by a cold was not part of his plan.

However, Yoonwoo looked unconvinced. He didn’t seem to believe Yeon-chae’s immediate denial.

“Your cheeks are red. Are you running a fever?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Let me see.”

Yeon-chae backed away into the kitchen, avoiding Yoonwoo, who reached out to check his forehead. Yoonwoo narrowed his eyes, remaining suspicious for a while longer.

But when Yeon-chae vehemently denied it and gave him no opening, he eventually gave up and slumped onto the sofa.

Only then did Yeon-chae breathe a sigh of relief, touching his own forehead. It was a little warmer than normal body temperature.

Still, it was merely elevated from being buried deep in a bed with the heated mattress on. His cough was gone, and his swollen throat had subsided. He seemed almost fully recovered.

‘I won’t pass it on to Yoonwoo.’ Reassured, Yeon-chae craned his neck towards the living room and watched Yoonwoo. Yoonwoo sat exhausted on the sofa, all tension gone from his face, staring blankly into space.

His expression seemed almost empty. A dull ache throbbed in Yeon-chae’s chest.

He wanted to do everything for Yoonwoo, anything to lift his spirits. But all he could do was cook. Yeon-chae trudged listlessly toward the refrigerator.

Instead of ganjang gejang, Yeon-chae cooked a spicy crab stew. Yoonwoo, seated at the dining table, expressed surprise, asking why on earth there were crabs in the refrigerator.

Yeon-chae modestly accepted Yoonwoo’s compliments, trying to suppress the persistent upward curve of his lips. If only Yoonwoo had continued to praise him, but he couldn’t resist adding a teasing remark.

“But if you have crabs, why can’t you make ganjang gejang?”

“I told you, it takes days… Don’t tease me.”

When Yeon-chae retorted with a sulky expression, Yoonwoo bit his lower lip and lowered his head.

“No, I’m genuinely curious.”

Even so, his suppressed laughter was obvious.

Yeon-chae, who had little interest in anything in the world besides Yoonwoo, had a singular hobby: Korean cooking. When he lived in America with his mother, he had tried various Korean dishes to comfort her homesickness, and it had unexpectedly become his passion.

His mother, despite having no talent for cooking, was incredibly picky, finding fault with every dish Yeon-chae prepared. Through this rigorous review process, Yeon-chae’s cooking skills reached a remarkable level.

It seemed his parents had inadvertently created all the necessary conditions for him to win over Yoonwoo, who was vulnerable to both good looks and good food. Realizing this, the lingering resentment he held towards his parents for divorcing precisely on his seventh birthday lessened slightly.

“Wow. This is incredibly delicious.”

Yoonwoo repeatedly exclaimed in delight, eating the crab stew as if he were about to bury his face in the plate. Yeon-chae, watching Yoonwoo’s cheeks gleam with health from eating well and resting, wore a proud, boastful expression.

“Just tell me anything you want to eat.”

“Really? Ganjang Gejang.”

“…I’ll make it for you soon.”

He hadn’t expected it, but Yoonwoo’s requests were even more hardcore than his mother’s.

Still, he was happy. He cherished this time, sitting across from Yoonwoo, sharing the food he had prepared. He also loved the atmosphere of these moments spent together, exchanging trivial, idle chatter.

He wished these days would continue for a long time.

He had first brought Yoonwoo home when he was drunk and passed out, a home he had never invited even his closest friends or seniors to, no matter how much they pleaded.

After Yoonwoo became pregnant, decided not to have the baby, and Yeon-chae had shown such an unsightly side of himself before falling ill with a cold, he had repeatedly questioned himself, full of self-reproach.

‘Why did I bring Yoonwoo-sunbae home? I shouldn’t have.’

“It’s really delicious. Thank you.”

Yoonwoo, having completely emptied his bowl, set down his spoon. Yeon-chae simply smiled, unable to find the right words.

Yoonwoo gazed idly at the empty bowl, then chuckled softly.

“I ate it all. You didn’t have any.”

“I’m fine. You should eat a lot, Yoon-hyung. You must have been hungry…”

“Is it because two people are eating? I ate much more than usual.”

“Ah…”

Yoonwoo casually spoke of the baby in his belly. Yeon-chae could only roll his eyes, unable to respond. There was nothing he could say.

“Aren’t you going to ask anything?”

Yoonwoo was the first to broach the subject. Yeon-chae glanced at him. Yoonwoo was smiling awkwardly.

“Why did you do it?”

Yeon-chae hesitantly asked. It was a question that made him feel like a criminal. He felt as though he shouldn’t even breathe too deeply right now.

Yoonwoo, in response, raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t want it? Didn’t you say I should have it?”

“When did I say that?!”

Yeon-chae leapt up. Anyone listening would think he had forced Yoonwoo to have the baby. Though he had cried a little…

“You cried so bitterly. It’s the same thing.”

“It’s not like that… Is it really because of me? You don’t need to consider my feelings, really.”

“Hmm…”

Yoonwoo’s face became thoughtful for a moment. All sorts of thoughts raced through Yeon-chae’s mind.

His own expression, a mix of anxiety and hope, felt tumultuous even to himself. After observing his face for a long time, Yoonwoo pinched Yeon-chae’s cheeks with his thumb and forefinger, stretching them like glutinous rice cakes, and chuckled.

“Your feelings are important, why wouldn’t they be? I made this decision considering your feelings too.”

“…Really?”

“Yeah. About 5%.”

Yoonwoo completely played with Yeon-chae’s cheeks, kneading them. Yeon-chae simply pressed his lips together and waited.

Some stories are incredibly difficult to bring up.

“I guess I wanted to have it too.”

This was one such story.

“I went to the hospital for the surgery…”

“Alone?”

Yeon-chae’s brows furrowed sharply. Yoonwoo, with a stern face, flicked Yeon-chae’s forehead.

“Hey, is that the problem right now?”

“But what if you go alone? You should go with me!”

“Quiet.”

“Yes…”

After scolding Yeon-chae, Yoonwoo fumbled in his jeans pocket and pulled something out. Yeon-chae craned his neck to look. It was an ultrasound photo, a faint, whitish shape blurry on a dark screen.

“See this?”

Yoonwoo suddenly held out the photo. Yeon-chae easily spotted a tiny bean-like shape. As he nodded silently, Yoonwoo then stared intently at the photo, grumbling incessantly.

“Ah, I can’t see it again. I clearly saw it earlier.”

Even when they had gone to the hospital together, Yoonwoo had fumbled, unable to find the bean on the ultrasound screen. Yoonwoo glared at the photo for a long time, his eyes reddened.

Yeon-chae reached out a finger and pointed to the lower right side of the photo.

“Here.”

Yoonwoo’s eyes softened.

“Oh. It was here.”