Chapter 92: Still Standing Outside

The moment they stepped inside the house, Han-geon hurriedly checked Jinwoo’s face.

At the sight of his split lip, his vision swam and his heart pounded violently.

“Hyung.

The hospital… we need to go to the hospital right now.”

“Ah, it’s fine, it’s fine.

What hospital?

You think this is my first time splitting my lip?”

Even with blood streaming down his face, Jinwoo waved his hand as if it were nothing.

He even forced a smile, as though trying to reassure Han-geon, who was flustering around in panic.

“Hyung, I’m really sorry.

This all happened because of me… I caused you so much trouble.”

“No.

If anything, I’m the one who’s sorry.

I should’ve just ignored him and walked away…

I didn’t need to hit him.”

Jinwoo apologized in a heavy tone.

Watching him press a rolled-up towel firmly against his lip with practiced ease, Han-geon urged him to go to the hospital a couple more times.

But Jinwoo didn’t budge, stubbornly sitting in the chair.

Knowing how much Jinwoo had always hated hospitals, Han-geon couldn’t push him further and sat down across from him with a guilty expression.

Thankfully, after holding the pressure for a while, the bleeding gradually began to stop.

Jinwoo, who had been silently enduring, finally spoke in a low voice.

“He’s a celebrity…

If this causes you trouble, what then.

I let my emotions get the better of me.”

“…No.

Right now, your lip is the problem.

Where’s the first-aid kit?

If you tell me, I’ll go get it.”

“No.

It’s a hassle to explain.

I’ll get it myself.

Just stay here.”

Jinwoo stood up, still pressing the bloodstained towel firmly to his lip.

He returned shortly with the first-aid kit.

As he walked toward the dining table, his gaze flicked toward the window.

Then, with a troubled expression, he spoke.

“Han-geon.

He’s… standing in front of the house.”

“…..”

Han-geon bit his lip hard.

A deep sigh soon escaped him.

“…Just leave him alone.”

Even though they were his own words, Han-geon felt slightly startled.

He couldn’t believe how calmly he said something that would have been unimaginable in the past.

Despite the turmoil in his heart, his voice was flat and indifferent.

“How long could he possibly stay out there anyway…

If we don’t open the door, he’ll leave eventually.”

The bitter smile he forced quickly faded from his lips.

A dry, helpless sigh followed.

His gaze drifted aimlessly across the tabletop, hollow and unfocused.

He helped apply medicine to Jinwoo’s lip, assisting with the simple treatment.

Fortunately, the bleeding had completely stopped, but Han-geon carefully suggested that Jinwoo rest.

Jinwoo shook his head, saying it was about time he went in to open the shop.

Han-geon tried to follow him out, but Jinwoo firmly stopped him, telling him to rest properly today.

After changing clothes alone in his room, Jinwoo approached and gently placed a hand on Han-geon’s shoulder.

Knowing it was his way of offering encouragement, Han-geon lowered his complicated gaze and quietly accepted the comfort.

Leaving behind a heavy warmth, Jinwoo went out.

Left alone, Han-geon remained seated, as if glued to the chair, unable to move.

“…..”

Once he was truly alone, all the strength drained from his body at once.

His head swam as he closed his eyes.

He bit his lip hard.

Just that brief encounter had left him feeling utterly exhausted.

He had acted calm and cold, as if nothing were wrong, but his heart, which had been pounding like mad, told no lies.

Eun-gyeol’s face—blood streaming from his nose—kept flashing before his eyes.

Even as blood soaked his pale face, his eyes had clung to Han-geon with desperate intensity.

That gaze was no different from that of the young boy who had once held him tightly in his dreams.

Before he realized it, Han-geon slid off his seat.

With trembling steps, he moved toward the window.

His heart felt like it might burst from his chest.

Clenching his icy fingers tightly, he looked outside.

Cha Eun-gyeol was there.

Still standing in the same spot.

He stood motionless before the outer gate, staring straight in this direction.

At that moment, their eyes met.

Eun-gyeol, standing like a statue, dried blood still smeared across his face.

Han-geon hurriedly turned away.

As if fleeing, he rushed up to his room on the second floor.

He threw himself onto the bed and pulled the blanket over his head.

The sensations from earlier—how his body had bloomed and reacted to Eun-gyeol’s pheromones—still clung vividly to his skin.

Rubbing his arm with his palm as if to scrub away Eun-gyeol’s pheromones, Han-geon suddenly stopped.

He hated his own body for reacting so intensely to even the faintest trace of Eun-gyeol’s scent.

No—he hated Cha Eun-gyeol for turning him into this.

Covering his face with both hands, Han-geon closed his eyes.

A single tear slipped out from between his eyelids and rolled down.

A hot breath spread damply beneath the blanket.

***

“…Geon-ah.”

At the cautious voice, his eyes flew open.

The blanket was pulled away, and he jolted upright.

Jinwoo’s face came into view, and behind him, the darkened scenery outside the window.

Sleep vanished in an instant.

“You slept the whole time?

Did you eat?”

“Ah… hyung.

You’re back?

What time is it…?”

“Eight.”

Had he really slept until now?

Not even eating, not even going to the bathroom once.

Even considering how abnormally sleepy he’d been lately… his mind felt blank.

Rubbing his face with a heated palm, Han-geon staggered as he stood.

“If you’re tired, don’t get up.

Sleep some more.”

“No, it’s okay.

Let’s eat dinner together, hyung.

I’ll prepare it.”

“No need.

I bought something.

Let’s just eat this.”

As Jinwoo casually turned toward the first floor, Han-geon called out without thinking.

“Hyung.”

“Hm?

Yeah, Han-geon.

What is it?”

“…It’s nothing.”

He had called him impulsively, but the words wouldn’t come.

As he swallowed them back down, Jinwoo slowly met his gaze.

“He’s still there.

In front of the house.”

“…..”

“He’s wearing a hat and a mask.

Luckily, there’s no one around.”

In a careful tone, Jinwoo addressed everything Han-geon must have been wondering about.

Han-geon squeezed his eyes shut.

“…Let’s eat.

Let’s eat first and then think.”

Hearing Jinwoo’s warm voice, Han-geon could only nod and reply softly.

“Yes.”

What Jinwoo had bought was galbitang.

It was one of Han-geon’s favorite dishes, and something he and Jinwoo often ate together after work in the past.

As steam rose from the soup and Jinwoo mixed in his rice, he smiled.

“Hey, remember how much soju we used to drink with this?

Then we’d meet early the next day to sober up and go straight to work.”

“Yes.

We really drank a lot back then.”

“Right?

I mean, no one was giving us an award or anything.

Why did we drink so damn much?”

He laughed as he chatted lightly, clearly trying to lift Han-geon’s mood.

Grateful for that, Han-geon picked up his spoon and forced down a few bites.

But that was all.

His movements grew slower and slower until they stopped altogether.

No matter how hard he tried to eat more, it felt like his throat was closing up.

As he lowered his head, spoon still in hand, Jinwoo passed him a glass of water.

“Han-geon.

Don’t force it.

You’ll get sick.”

“…I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for….”

He set the spoon down and slowly swallowed the cold water.

Even then, Han-geon couldn’t bring himself to lift the spoon again, fidgeting uselessly with the cup instead.

Jinwoo’s low voice continued.

“…If it’s bothering you that much, go out there.”

“…..”

“If there’s something you couldn’t say before…

go say it properly.”

Han-geon couldn’t answer easily, chewing on his lip.

To be honest, he hadn’t expected Eun-gyeol to still be waiting at this hour.

He couldn’t imagine Eun-gyeol yearning for someone like this.

He had always been arrogantly relaxed.

Affection poured toward him in excess.

Cha Eun-gyeol being loved was as natural as breathing—to himself, and to Han-geon, who had always stayed by his side.

And yet now, he was standing there for hours, waiting for Han-geon.

What did he even want to do?

Eun-gyeol showing this side of himself didn’t shake his resolve, but he couldn’t just leave him standing there for nearly ten hours.

There was Eun-gyeol’s safety to consider, and the unfinished ending from earlier as well.

At last, after letting out a long sigh, Han-geon slowly stood up.

“…Hyung.

Then I’ll go and come back.”

“Yeah.

Go.”

Each step from the table to the front door felt unbearably heavy.

Just before grabbing the doorknob, he took a deep breath in and out.

Calmly, he opened the door, crossed the yard, and reached the gate.

The moment the heavy iron gate swung open, the dark figure standing there snapped his attention this way.

The tension wrapped around his tall frame was so taut it felt sharp against the skin.