Archive of Our Own

If there was something Kang Yohan hated about himself the most, it would be his scent. Soft woodsmoke, with an underlying sweetness like burnt sugar. He hated how it had clung to his skin and his belongings when he first properly presented, no longer able to hide his secondary sex. He hated it more when he realized what it truly entailed. How it meant he could no longer hide. How sharp his fear could smell, whenever he saw his father don his leather gloves, take out that leather whip that his skin knew intimately better than any gentle touch.

If there was any saving grace to his designation, it was the fact that he had presented during summer, when school was out. As a result, he had begged and begged Isaac for his own stock of suppressants and scent blockers. Isaac had reluctantly agreed – Mercifully, he wasn’t so sheltered that he didn’t know just what kind of life his younger brother would be subjected to once his real designation came out. How being branded as an omega would close whatever doors remained open to him, ensuring that he would be trapped under their father’s roof. Most fortunate of all, his father despised Kang Yohan more than he wanted to keep him, even as a bargaining chip on the marriage table.

So at the age of twelve, Kang Yohan was allowed to take suppressants and scent-blockers. He takes them religiously, except when advised by the discreet family doctor to allow himself to go through heats. But even as it remained stifled – the ones who noticed the scent blockers assumed him to be a particularly conservative alpha – the secret rankled under his skin. Just one more secret of the outwardly illustrious Kang family, rotting it – rotting him- from within.

He didn’t think that he could hate his scent any more than he could. And then the fire at St. Verena’s Cathedral happened.

The morning that everything changes was the one after he had spoken to Kim Ga On about the fire. The memory had burned, tearing through his dreams. He had tossed and turned, the scent of smoke filling his lungs. Whimpering and crying out as he’s mercifully dragged to wakefulness.

His gaze snaps open, torn from the memory of a burnt hollow of a church into the reek of smoke and sweat-soaked sheets. And then his breath leaves his throat when he sees Isaac. Kneeling at the side of his bed, his eyes wide with worry. Isaac’s hand is warm on his cheek. Comforting. Gentle. Kang Yohan turns his face towards his palm, nuzzling at it, and Isaac swallows, his throat bobbing.

The presents hits Kang Yohan like the collapsed beams of a church. He flinches backwards, and Kim Ga On makes the mistake of reaching out for him. Brushing his hair out of his eyes with trembling, gentle fingers, wiping at his tears with the pad of his thumb. And then it hits him, through the acrid woodsmoke – the scent of bruised herbs, strong and sharp enough to wake him all the way up. Kim Ga On’s alpha scent, so different from Isaac’s summer storm smell.

Instinct takes over. Yohan grabs Kim Ga On by the throat. Kim Ga On gasps, grappling with the fingers wrapped tight around his throat. Anyone else who had his nerve and Kang Yohan would be enjoying their look of terrified alarm. But not on this face.

His fingers go slack, and he flings Kim Ga On off of the bed, bodily onto the ground.

“Get out,” He snarls. Kim Ga On gapes at him, clearly winded, but when Kang Yohan bares his teeth, he scrambles to his feet and leaves Kang Yohan’s bedroom, leaves Kang Yohan alone. Elijah’s accusations do nothing to soothe his mood, but her cruel ignorance serves as a welcome distraction as he gasps and tries to breathe.

Kim Ga On’s scent lingers in Yohan’s room long after he’s closed the door behind him. Kang Yohan drags in one breath after another. The scent of crushed herbs surrounding him, cradling him as his heart slows and calm returns.

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It was the scent that brought Kim Ga On to Kang Yohan’s bedroom. The smell of burning wood, seeping through the half-open door that Kang Yohan must have forgotten to lock. Kim Ga On had been worried there was a fire at first, but no. This scent had a hint of raw sweetness to it, and a bitter tang that spoke of an omega in acute distress.

It’s enough to make Kim Ga On’s alpha instincts flare, hot and protective. Instincts that have gotten him in trouble more than once - Soohyun scolding him as she tended to Kim Ga On’s bleeding face after getting into yet another fight after defending an omega being harassed. Professor Min giving Kim Ga On yet another solid lecture after getting his charges dropped at the Prosecutor's office due to justifying circumstance of defense of a stranger. But unlike then, things were no longer as cut and dry as defending a young mother in a subway station, or protecting a too-drunk teenager at a bar. He’s in the belly of the beast, the home of the man who is crusader and monster both.

And that scent... Kim Ga On inhales, his mouth watering, feeling half-drunk with longing as his mind races. Mrs. Ji is a beta, and Elijah is an alpha, and there is no one else residing in this large, empty house but ghosts. There can only be one other person that it belongs to.

A whimper. The acrid scent of smoke intensifies. Kim Ga On makes up his mind. He enters the room to find Kang Yohan already awake. Pale with terror, his bare chest heaving, tears dripping down his face, the smell of sweet smoke all around him. All reason flees Kim Ga On then, the pure instinct to protect and care for an omega in pain overriding his already tenuous sense of self-preservation. He reaches for Kang Yohan’s face, cupping his cheek, stroking the hair out of his eyes, wiping at his tears. Relief flooding through him as Kang Yohan takes a deep breath, and the scent of smoke fades into something softer, sweeter -

Kang Yohan’s eyes snap open. In a split second, Kim Ga On finds his windpipe being crushed under Kang Yohan’s iron grip before hes sent crashing to the floor with a painful thump.

“Get out!” Gasping for breath, he manages to splutter out apologies before hightailing out of Yohan’s room, nearly crashing into Elijah outside in the hallway. He flushes at her narrowed gaze, the scent of burnt sugar lingering on, the memory of it thick, heady, mouthwatering.

Later, he’s playing Tekken 3 – a classic, he had insisted despite Elijah’s unimpressed expression - with Elijah when he broaches the topic. Elijah shrugs, her Xiao Yu making quick work of Kim Ga On’s Jin onscreen, her fingers fitting through the buttons of her controller too fast for him to keep up with his own.

“I was wondering when you would notice that Yohan’s an omega,” Elijah says dispassionately. “Didn’t you smell him when he brought you over here?”

“I was too busy being knocked out by an impact of a bomb,” Kim Ga On says defensively. Onscreen, Jin crumples to his knees, and Xiao Yu jumps up and down in exuberant glee. Elijah snorts, rolls her eyes, as a new round in her videogame begins.

“Didn’t he take you out on a date after you had recovered? You ought to have noticed by then.”

“That was a work event!” Kim Ga On protests. “And he always has scent blockers on. I thought he was an alpha.” He knows from Professor Min that many older alphas – especially those belonging to higher socio-economic classes- still used scent-blockers out of courtesy. He had supposed that as a member of the Kang family, Kang Yohan had been subjected to the same rules of etiquette. That level of reserve in contrast with the liberties - for lack of a better word - he regularly took with Kim Ga On certainly was in keeping with the maddening morass of contradictions that was Kang Yohan himself.

And if Kim Ga On were being very honest, at the SRF’s charity gala he had found his gaze drifting to Kang Yohan’s throat. Wondering what else he was keeping hidden from the den of vipers they had found themselves in.

To distract himself, Kim Ga On asks another question. “How long has he been hiding his designation?” Elijah shrugs, scowling when Jin executes a move that eats into a third of Xiao Yu’s lifespan.

“Always, as far as I know. I only found out he was an omega when I was thirteen.” She makes a face. “Before I presented, he gave me a lecture. Complete with slides, so that I would know what to expect. It was about as mortifying as you could imagine it going.” She shudders, and Kim Ga On finds himself smiling at the image of the great Judge Kang Yohan, all of his courtroom bravado deserting him in the face of giving his teenage niece a Sex Ed lecture.

“He got awfully cagey when I asked him how rut felt for him. Then Mrs. Ji told me not to bother asking, because Yohan’s actually an omega.” She scowls when Kim Ga On manages to corner her Xiao Yu with a pummeling and puts her health bar in the red. “Then she told me not to tell anybody, and that was that.”

Jin manages to knock Xiao Yu out, and Kim Ga On grins in triumph as Elijah grumbles under her breath. “It’s just a little strange, how thoroughly he hid it. Even from his own niece.” Kim Ga On frowns. “Does that mean he’s been on suppressants since he presented? That can’t be healthy.” That would explain some of his more erratic moods. Elijah finally deigns to turn towards him as the third round loads, her expression exceptionally annoyed.

“You've smelled him, right? He smells like smoke, and it gives him panic attacks." Elijah's expression is pointed. "Probably out of guilt for killing my parents." Old rage simmers beneath her words, along with hurt. Kim Ga On gives her a quiet look. 

"Elijah..." She turns away, back to the screen, her voice flat when she continues. 

"Anyways, that aside, how do you think it would go if the public were to find out that Judge Kang Yohan is an omega? I don’t go out much, it’s true. But I am online. And even in this day and age you have alphas getting pissy that omegas nominally have equal rights under the law. Not just in Korea but everywhere else.” She looks up at Kim Ga On. “Why bother telling the truth when it’ll keep you from getting your job done?” Kim Ga On has to smile at that, even as he feels a pang in his chest. 

“That sounds like something Judge Kang would say.” Elijah looks mortally offended. And then her eyes light up in a disturbingly similar way to her uncle’s when he’s on a hunt.

“Are things going to change between you now that you know? Are you going to court him?” Elijah demands, far too eager. “Just so you know, you’re the first alpha he’s ever brought home.” Kim Ga On chokes.

“No, Elijah. To both questions,” He says firmly. And then, flustered. “You probably shouldn’t disclose that kind of information to anyone. Especially me.” Elijah scowls at him, indignant.

“Why not?” Her gaze sharpens, and now she really does resemble her uncle. “You like him, right? Or do you actually already have someone else you like?” He looks away, turning his thoughts away from Soohyun and her sea spray scent.

“He’s my boss, Elijah. It would be inappropriate.” He says firmly. He tries not to remember how Kang Yohan had shoved him up against the wall when he had caught him bugging his office. His touch searing hot with slow deliberation against Kim Ga On’s chest even as his eyes remained as cold as a shark’s. How painfully vulnerable he had looked this morning, leaning into Kim Ga On’s touch, his hair in his eyes and his cheeks damp with tears.

Victory music blares through the speakers as Xiao Yu spins around and punches the air in triumph. Elijah throws the controller onto her lap in frustration at Kim Ga On’s response.

“Why are the two of you so damned boring?” She demands, and Kim Ga On smiles wryly, steers the conversation towards a different topic.

The bruises around his neck ache, reminding him to tread carefully as he approaches Kang Yohan in his library. He looks almost innocuous, dressed in a white shirt and cardigan, his hair falling soft and loose on his forehead. But Kim Ga On mingled with enough omegas from the bottom rung of society to know they were nowhere near the cosseted, ornamented status symbols that upper class conservatives still deemed them to be. As an old gym instructor had once warned him over drinks, alphas fight to break up a fight. Omegas fight to kill.

He doesn’t doubt that Kang Yohan could have killed him that morning. The lingering ache around his throat was testament enough to that. The memory has him eyeing Kang Yohan warily, an alpha assessing a potential threat even as he determinedly refrains from looking at his exposed throat. Through it, Kang Yohan watches him with dark eyes, a strange inscrutable almost-softness on his face that Kim Ga On can’t quite tell is amusement or wonder or curiosity or maybe all three.

“Judge Kang, I’m truly sorry for what happened yesterday,” Kim Ga On says. “I have no excuses, even if you kick me out of the department.” He swallows. “Especially as I also violated your privacy.” He continues with his apologies, guilt twisting in his gut with every word as Kang Yohan watches him.

“I will resign from the department.” At that, Kang Yohan deliberately sets book down and stands, stepping forwards and gripping Kim Ga On’s chin lightly.

“I wouldn’t want to hear that from this face.” This close, Kang Yohan mostly smells of the scent-blockers he favors – mostly scentless with a metallic chemical tang. But perhaps because now he knows what to search for – or maybe because now that he knows, Kang Yohan no longer finds the need to hide it as well - he catches the faintest whiff of smoke. Sweeter than it was earlier, lingering around Kang Yohan, making him step forwards unconsciously instead of tugging his chin free like he’d intended, close enough that he can taste the air around Kang Yohan’s throat. He inhales, and Kang Yohan’s gaze darkens. Watching him, not moving away.

He forces himself to concentrate on the rest of what he was planning to say. About how he had done research on his previous rulings, and found that Kang Yohan had not endeavoured to stand out in any way.

“But then again, the hunter thoroughly disguises his scent.” He finds himself saying. “Until it’s the right time.” it takes him a moment to realize his gaze has dropped down to Kang Yohan’s throat, and he wrenches it up, takes a step back. Kang Yohan takes it all in, smiling faintly as Kim Ga On stumbles through what he guesses Kang Yohan’s motives to be. His eyes cold as he asks Kim Ga On if he would stand against him. Telling him that he won’t hesitate to get rid of those in his way, and Kim Ga On feels more and more like he’s speaking to Mephistopheles himself as he assures Kang Yohan that yes, he’s very aware of what Kang Yohan is capable of.

Kang Yohan’s fingers on his chin tighten slightly, For a breathless moment, Kim Ga On thinks he is going to scentmark him, and he freezes. Kang Yohan’s eyes glint.

“Your scent is an open book, Ga On-ah,” He says. Kim Ga On flushes red. Too late, he notices the scent of crushed herbs had intensified, underlined with something sharp and dark. Hungry. Mingling with smoke and sweetness. He pulls away, flustered, looking away from Kang Yohan’s smirking face as he lets him go.

“I won’t kick you out. I’ll see you back at the department.” Kang Yohan says at last, his voice light. Almost amused. “Besides. It’s rather fun, having you around.” And as Kim Ga On finally manages to turn away, he wonders what manner of Faustian bargain he’s struck.

The Nam Seok Hun case all but affirms his worst fears. Kim Ga On is barely able to contain his disgust - both at the perpetrator and those baying for his blood. It’s not the defendant himself that concerns Kim Ga On so much as what the effect of allowing the same could do to the public. The real targets of Kang Yohan’s vengeance remain in their golden towers, blissfully ignorant of the man plotting to dethrone them, but what Kim Ga On fears isn’t the swing of the executioner’s sword itself, but how may throats it would cut before chopping off the heads that needed to roll.

The night after the trial, he reaches his limits. “You would rather become a monster than a victim, because you have no courage to accept your own pain.” He says, steady and unflinching. Kang Yohan’s eyes widen, and for a moment Kim Ga On sees the little boy he must have been.

Kang Yohan remains standing as Kim Ga On turns away and leaves the library. But he remembers that look on his face. As the trial continues and the prosecution and defense argue back and forth, Kim Ga On finds himself watching Kang Yohan. Kang Yohan, his expression bland and calm as he regards the defendant hunkered before him. A counterpoint to the pen in his hand digging into the TSN, ripping it to shreds.

And rising from his collar, the faint, bitter smell of smoke.

Kim Gao On starts when he catches it, and Kang Yohan gives him a dispassionate look. A recess is called, and Kang Yohan rises smoothly to his feet, turns to leave. Kim Ga On watches him go, helpless.

A few moments later, he and Oh Jinjoo exit the courtroom as well. Kim Ga On very badly wants to take a short rest, the strain of the past couple of days already getting to him, but he finds himself following Kang Yohan.

Kang Yohan is in the bathroom attached to his office. He has taken off his white judge’s robes – and his shirt. The scar from the church fire is livid on his back, and Kim Ga On tries not to stare at it, or the taut line of his shoulders and back.

Kang Yohan glances at Kim Ga On from the mirror, raising an eyebrow, the scent of bitter smoke hanging in the air. Enough for others to mistake him for an alpha, provided they couldn’t get close enough. Perhaps Kang Yohan would prefer it that way.

But he’ll still smell of bitter smoke. Of his own distress. Kim Ga On is distracted from his thoughts by Kang Yohan’s voice.

“Yes, Judge Kim?” Kang Yohan’s voice is carefully neutral, but his eyes are hard. Tension around the lines of his face. Kim Ga On’s throat works for a solid ten seconds, his instincts warring with him before they win and he manages to get words out.

“Let me,” Kim Ga On finds himself saying. He takes a step forwards, close enough for Kang Yohan to smell him, slowly enough that Kang Yohan can rebuff him if he has to. When he doesn’t, Kim Ga On reaches for the jar of scent blocking cream, and Kang Yohan gives him an unreadable look. But he doesn’t move away as Kim Ga On opens the jar, scooping some of the gel on his fingers.

He stops himself just before he touches the side of Kang Yohan’s bare throat. He’s cooked for Kang Yohan already – had offered without thinking and only when Mrs. Ji had given him a knowing look did he realize how that action could be construed. But this presumptuousness...

Kim Ga On hesitates again. Kang Yohan meets Kim Ga On’s eyes in the mirror, his expression strangely fragile. His chest rises and falls. After a long moment, he gives Kim Ga On one slow nod.

Kim Ga On’s movements are quick, clinical as he applies the cream over the sides of Kang Yohan’s neck. The gel is cool, and by the time he’s done he can detect neither bitterness nor sweetness -whatever scent blocker Kang Yohan is using must be medical-grade, with how effective it is. He doesn’t let his touch linger for longer than he has to, or attempt anything else than what he set out to do. That’s not what Kang Yohan needs him for.

Slowly, Kang Yohan’s shoulders loosen. The hard clench of his jaw easing as his scent glands are covered. He inhales, deeply, and when Kim Ga On is done he turns. So fast that Kim Ga On nearly trips backwards. Kang Yohan’s hand shoots out to cup the side of Kim Ga On’s head, holding him immobile. The tip of his nose nearly brushing the side of Gaon’s neck, his hot breath fanning over his throat. His eyes two dark pits, threatening to swallow Kim Ga On whole as his nostrils flare and he slowly, deliberately breathes Kim Ga On in.

With a jolt, Kim Ga On remembers their conversation in the library. Your scent is an open book, Ga On-ah. Kim Ga On exhales, watching Kang Yohan, his palm hot against the side of Kim Ga On’s head. A few more moments, and Kang Yohan lets him go.

“The recess will be over soon. We had best be getting back.” Kang Yohan’ says, cold and dispassionate, his gaze shuttered. Kim Ga On nods wordlessly as Kang Yohan slips on his shirt and his white judge’s robes. Passing a hand over his clothing and walking out without another glance backwards.

Oh Jinjoo wrinkles his nose when he enters their shared office. “Stressed, huh? That’s the strongest I’ve ever smelled you.” She asks sympathetically. “Did your discussion with Judge Kang go badly?” Kim Ga On shakes his head.

“I’m pretty sure he’s more stressed than I am.” is all he says. Oh Jinjoo looks like she wants to ask him something else, but eventually the clerk comes in to usher them inside the court and mercifully, her questions cease as they return to the glare of the spotlight.

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The Nam Seok Hun case wraps up with acceptable results. It is satisfying, to see the smile slip from the defendant’s face in horror at what awaits him. Kang Yohan does not try to hide his smirk as the approval ratings on the Dike app soar.

Kim Ga On, for his part, seems relieved. Later that day, Kang Yohan watches him play with Kkomi in his study, his eyes crinkling in delighted pride when Kang Yohan tells him about Elijah’s part in researching the appropriate punishment. But even as the day winds to a close, Kim Ga On willfuly avoids talking about had transpired between them in the bathroom. Neither does Kang Yohan attempt to broach the topic, though he notices Kim Ga On stealing glances every now and then. Still analyzing what would be the best way forward. How best he can use Kim Ga On’s budding affection to his advantage.

And then, that same evening, Kang Yohan receives the invitation card from the SRF. He realizes too late that it’s a trap when the car hurtles towards him and the blow lands on the back of his head.

He wakes up, in pain, the reek of smoke in his nostrils. Someone has washed off his scent-blockers and cuffed his wrists and ankles to a chair. Kang Yohan breathes through his mouth as he takes stock of his surroundings. Taking note of the warehouse he's in, the out of place chandelier hanging from its ceiling, the too-familiar silver cups filling the display case that looks similar to the one in his father’s mansion. And then he sees the portraits of his face. The little cot that was disturbingly the same as the one shoved against the wall of the dim laundry.

He stifles the alarm that rises in his gorge, maintaining a brutal grip on is iron composure as he hears the light step of a woman, smells her alpha scent. Strong. Musky, with a hint of something cloyingly floral. At odds with her delicate arms as they wrap around him. Her possessive hold so unlike Kim Ga On’s gentle touch.

“I’ve always loved the way you smell,” Jung Sun-ah murmurs against the side of his neck. Her breath smells of berries as she brushes her mouth against his cheek, his lips. “It’s such a pity that you always hide it, Young Master.”

Kang Yohan smiles at her, making no secret of his condescension, his disgust. He refuses to react to Jung Sun-ah forcing her kiss on him, knowing from experience that any reaction would lead to worse outcomes. He baits, mocks, condescends throughout their conversation, and he knows he’s struck a nerve when Jung Sun-ah’s smile goes frozen and hard, her playfulness gone. She trails her fingers against his throat, then finding his bonding gland at the back of his neck. Kang Yohan refuses to react as she presses down on it. But his scent curdles, the sensation of her manicured nail digging into his bonding gland feeling far too much like a calloused, gloved hand gripping the back of his neck.

Jung Sun-ah’s scent blooms with satisfaction. She lifts her hand, stabs the needle into his shoulder. The condescending smile remains frozen on Kang Yohan’s lips as the world goes dark.

He wakes up in his car, his head pounding. His skin feels too-tight, and Kang Yohan lets out a breath, then nearly gags at the clinging remnants of Jung Sun-ah’s musky scent. He swallows, his fingers reaching up. Sighing in relief when he feels no bite marks, no echo of a forced bond. And then he notices that Isaac’s crucifix is no longer around his wrist.

He forces himself to move his too-heavy limbs and reach for the packet of wet wipes in the glove compartment, does his best to wipe her scent off of him. The crucifix is a loss he has to handle for another day. After he’s gotten most of her scent off, Kang Yohan lets out the breath he had been holding. He throws the balled-up wet wipes out into the trash bin, makes his way up the driveway to the mansion on slightly-unsteady legs.

To his surprise, the two are waiting for him when he arrives. Sleeping on the couch as if they had stayed up waiting for him. Tenderness rushes through Kang Yohan. Despite his dully aching head, he moves to cover Elijah with a jacket he recognizes as Kim Ga On’s. But before he can finish doing so, Kim Ga On stirs. Wakes, Lifts his head, his eyes trained on Kang Yohan’s neck, his nostrils flaring.

Too late, Kang Yohan remembers that Jung Sun-ah had washed off his scent-blockers. The scent blockers that Kim Ga On had painstakingly applied earlier that day. He had wiped off most of their mingled scents, but Kang Yohan can still smell the reek of smoke around himself.

“What happened?” Then, hesitantly. “Are you hurt?” Kang Yohan snaps his mask back on in place.

“I was tussling with a very rough lady.” He says coolly, keeping his voice low so as not to wake Elijah. “She yanked my hair and started kissing.” The lie slips smoothly from his mouth in response to Kim Ga On’s queries, even though all he wants to do is lock himself in his bathroom and scrub his skin off. Kim Ga On draws back, his jaw tightening, his scent going bitter but still warm, still comforting. Kang Yohan nearly sways forwards as he chases it, then stops himself.

“Chief?” Kang Yohan wrenches his gaze away, barely hearing whatever platitude falls from his lips to assuage him. But he can still feel Kim Ga On watching him as he makes his way to his room, knows he’s not going to let it rest.

Kang Yohan showers in water hot enough that steam fills his entire bathroom. He brushes his teeth, scrubs at his lips almost to the point of bleeding. When he’s done, he sits on the edge of his bed, wrapped in a terrycloth robe as he towels off his hair. Exhausted to the point of collapse, but the heat from the shower doesn’t subside from his skin.

Kang Yohan swallows, stomach going tight with dread. He presses his hand against the back of his neck, and then he feels it. The overheated skin surrounding his bonding gland. If he could feel that heat, the physician had warned him and Isaac during their first visit, then it was too late to take suppressants. He would have to let his heat run its course.

His fingers dig into his skin, and he hears the knock.

“Chief?” Kim Ga On. “Elijah’s gone to bed, but I wanted to check if you’re all right.” Kang Yohan breathes through his nose. His nose catches on the bracing scent of bruised herbs. Kim Ga On’s alpha scent, washing over him. Making him rise to his feet and open the door.

Kim Ga On looks surprised at how quickly he’s answered the door, but he composes himself. The frown creasing his forehead deepens when he sees Kang Yohan, takes in the state he’s currently in, the acrid stench of woodsmoke damn near suffocating him.

“You are hurt,” He says, his voice cracking. It’s not a question. Kang Yohan tries to deflect but a wave of dizziness hits him.

He stumbles back to the bed, sinking back down onto its edge, and Kim Ga On is by his side in an instant. Kang Yohan’s skin is too hot, too tight. Kim Ga On dares to place a hand on his forehead and he doesn’t lash out, just leans forwards into it with a low whimper that has self-disgust coiling in his gut.

“No.” Kang Yohan manages to answer, gritting his teeth even as he presses his face into Kim Ga On’s palm. “I’m going into heat.” Damn Jung Sun-ah and her damned drugs. Whatever she pumped into him must have neutralized his suppressants. He firmly steers his mind away from what could have happened if she had noticed sooner, if his suppressants had failed while in her presence, in that warehouse.

What he’s about to face is horror enough.

Kim Ga On swallows, his brow furrowed in so much concern that Kang Yohan fears he must have spoken out loud. He curves his hand around Kang Yohan’s jaw, and Kang Yohan lets out a low gasp as the first wave of heat washes over him. Familiar terror that he hasn’t felt since he was a child clawing at his chest, his skin. Unable to control himself, unable to say no -

“I’ll call Mrs. Ji,” Kim Ga On says, voice unsteady. His pupils have gone dilated. Hungry. Tracking Kang Yohan’s movements even as he tries to play the gallant, and desire rushes through Kang Yohan as much as fear.

“No. I can handle this myself.” He does an admirable job of not keeling over as another wave of heat washes over him. And then another, stronger wave comes and he pitches forwards.

Hands reach for him, steadying him and Kang Yohan flinches. Waiting for the whip to crack against his skin, for an unforgiving hand to close around the back of his neck. But no pain comes. Only Kim Ga On, waiting for him to come back to himself, his dark eyes sad and soft with understanding. And once he’s made sure that Kang Yohan had pulled himself together, tugging him forwards and tucking his face against the curve of his neck.

His father had smelled of the choking ruin of a forest fire, overlaid by the near-constant reek of brandy and sweat. Isaac had smelled of warm summer rain and lightning-scorched air. Elijah - mercifully- smells like a clean, rushing river- not of anything burning, nothing that brought back memories of a fiery church. That is Kang Yohan’s cross to bear, as much as the one burned into his back.

Kim Ga On smells like none of those things. This close, he smells not only of his distinctly sharp, vegetal scent of crushed herbs, but also of freshly-turned earth. Wonderful and clean and new, like the spring thaw assuring Kang Yohan that the school term was soon to start and he could get out of the dark, oppressive confines of his father’s house. Kang Yohan shakes his head in a vain attempt to clear the memories out of it, and Kim Ga On inhales softly. The hand stroking Kang Yohan’s hair doesn’t stop.

“It’s all right,” Kim Ga On murmurs. “Nothing bad is going to happen to you. Not while I’m here.” Kang Yohan lets out a bitter laugh at that.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Isaac,” He rasps. That precious face blurs in Kang Yohan’s vision.

“I’m not Isaac.” Kang Yohan sighs, and as Kim Ga On holds him, he allows his heat to pull him under.

He barely remembers the next few hours. He does remember calling K, then Judge Oh in a moment of clarity and cancelling all his appointments within the next few days due to a family emergency. He remembers his knees giving out, trying to breathe through his mouth because if he smells smoke now he’s going to either throw up or hyperventilate. Disgust rising in gorge at the sensation of his own slick dripping between his thighs, the ache inside him, fear making his chest seize when he feels hands on his arms. But it’s only Kim Ga On, helping him up. Leading him to the bed, where he tosses and turns for hours until exhaustion has him curling up in a tight ball. Coaxing him up to drink water and eat when all Kang Yohan wants is to disappear into the oblivion of his fever, pressing his legs tightly together in a bid to keep from feeling that hot ache. Wiping him down with cooling cloths, the reassuring thrum of his voice and the tender familiarity of his scent enough to ease his fear as Kim Ga On peels off his sweat and slick-soaked robe and wraps him in a fresh one.

Through this hell, Kim Ga On’s voice murmurs constant comfort into Kang Yohan’s ear, giving instead of taking, dragging Kang Yohan into his arms and gathering him close, holding him as his fever climbs higher and higher. Kang Yohan pants, groans. Still clinging into whatever sense of control he can maintain. Refusing to let himself beg, or cry.

“Kang Yohan,” Kim Ga On murmurs, his voice cracking as Kang Yohan buries his face in his shoulder and shudders through another cresting wave of heat. “It’s going to be okay.” It becomes a mantra, a refrain that Kang Yohan clings to. But when on the next day Kang Yohan’s fever shows no signs of abating, in a moment of precious clarity he turns to Kim Ga On – sitting beside his curled-up form on the bed - and seizes his hand.

“Do what you must,” he says. Demands, really. Kim Ga On blinks at him in shock, his dark gaze flicking down to his mouth, then back to his eyes. His hair is a mess, dark circles carved beneath his eyes. Besides accepting meals (which mostly went uneaten) and bottles of water (always drained dry) from Mrs. Ji, he hasn’t left Kang Yohan’s side in over a day and a half. He's so beautiful that Kang Yohan feels heat pulse through his core, new wetness trickling between his legs. As Kang Yohan leans forwards, Kim Ga On visibly loses his breath. But he shakes his head, expression charmingly resolute as he tries pulling back. Kang Yohan interrupts him before he can protest.

“I’m asking you for the sake of practicality, since waiting my heat out isn’t a strategy that’ll work.” Kang Yohan snaps, scraping together all of his remaining dignity and self-control to keep himself from sounding like a heat-addled omega throwing himself at the nearest alpha within the vicinity. “I haven’t had a heat in years, I would not be surprised if my fever climbs to dangerous levels if allowed to run its course. The recovery period alone will cost us precious time we cannot afford.” He doubles over as a wave of heat sends him leaning heavily forwards onto Kim Ga On.

Kim Ga On catches him. “I don’t think -” He begins unsteadily, his voice rough with arousal. Kang Yohan looks up at him through his lashes, head inclined in a show of near-submission that effectively silences all of Kim Ga On’s useless protests.

“If you want this, if you want me – then do what you must.” He keeps his hand clasped around Kim Ga On’s wrist, laying his other hand flat on Kim Ga On’s chest. His gaze drops down to the heavy swell of Kim Ga On's cock outlined through his sweatpants, and Kim Ga On lets out a low growl that he hastily stifles. That slip of control has Kang Yohan smiling. Pressing down on Kim Ga On's chest, relishing the staccato beat of his heart, the heated flush he can see climbing up Kim Ga On’s throat, his half-parted lips. Leaning in to inhale the sharp scent of crushed herbs spiked with heady desire.

Kim Ga On looks torn. His pupils have almost entirely swallowed up his warm brown irises as he tracks Kang Yohan’s hand down his chest. Something animal stirring behind them and instead of terror Kang Yohan feels arousal lance through him. The abyss residing in Kim Ga On’s soul staring back at him in open hunger, even as Kim Ga On continues holding him as gently as he can. Pulling him in as much as Kang Yohan wants to drag Kim Ga On down with him into the dark.

“Are you sure you want this?” His voice is barely audible. Kang Yohan smirks, then leans down so that his lips brush against Kim Ga On’s ear. Pushing himself forwards so that his knee is barely brushing against Kim Ga On's cock, already straining against his sweatpants. 

“As if you don’t know how much I’ve wanted you since I met you.” The frisson of shocked lust that Kang Yohan can feel through Kim Ga On’s body is delicious, as is the wet patch growing at his front. Kim Ga On’s hands come up to grip his hips, bruising-tight. The pain after so much gentleness is exquisite. He groans, and Kim Ga On’s grip immediately loosens.

“Tell me to stop, and I will.” Kim Ga On says. His face is flushed red but his expression is firm. That has Kang Yohan raising a skeptical eyebrow in spite of himself, and Kim Ga On shakes his head, reaching up to stroke his cheek.

“I mean it, Yohan.” Kim Ga On says, his voice strained. “I’m not going to hurt you.” Kang Yohan shuts him up by kissing him. Or tries to. Kim Ga On cups his face between his hands, effectively stopping him.

“Yohan,” Kim Ga On says. His skin is cool against Kang Yohan’s fevered cheeks. “Please. Believe me.” Anybody else who told him that, and Kang Yohan would have scoffed in bitter disbelief and resignation.

But Kim Ga On looks so much like Isaac. Earnest and tender and everything that should not have been part of Kang Yohan’s world. Promise me you won’t hurt the innocent. Kang Yohan has made peace with the fact that this was never a promise he could in any way keep. But maybe just this once, he can try to.

“All right,” He says. It’s quiet. Kim Ga On nudges their noses against each other, hesitant. Kang Yohan loses all patience, yanks his chin forwards and kisses him.

Kim Ga On’s mouth is soft and searing hot and everything Kang Yohan cannot allow himself to want. Kim Ga On nearly falls backwards with the intensity of it, letting out a yelp as Kang Yohan smiles against his mouth. This emboldens Kim Ga On, who takes the opportunity to bite down on his lower lip, and then he’s licking into Kang Yohan’s mouth, tasting him, dragging him down and grinding against him, and this time it’s Kang Yohan’s turn to be devoured -

And then Kim Ga On’s hand closes over the back of Kang Yohan’s neck - right above his bonding gland - and Kang Yohan stops breathing.

“Stop,” Hating himself for how his mouth catches around the word, how unfamiliar it feels. How softly he speaks it out loud, as if he were still his teenage self not expecting it to be heard, let alone respected. He remembers Jung Sun-ah digging her fingers into it, and his guts want to violently revolt. The reek of woodsmoke all around them making him want to gag.

But Kim Ga On stops. He stops, breaking the kiss and lifting his hand away, putting enough space between them to keep himself from caging Kang Yohan in. His eyes soft with concern as he watches Kang Yohan breathe through the panic. But even the soft heat of Kim Ga On’s palm, too close to the back of his neck is too much.

“Your hand,” Kang Yohan, forces himself to speak through the pounding of his heart, pushing down the maudlin urge to weep. “Not there.” Kim Ga On immediately retracts his hand, dropping his arms by his sides.

“I’m sorry,” He says quickly. “Are you-” Kang Yohan shudders. His body refusing to wait for him even as his mind still reels. Suddenly, Kang Yohan feels a rush of anger so intense that Kim Ga On looks up in alarm as the reek of burning wood surrounds them. Disgusting as his own body feels, it is his. And he will not let any unwanted touch claim it any further.

He kisses Kim Ga On again before he can move away. Painful and bruising hard as he grinds his hips against him. The sparks of pleasure burning through him enough to send clarity ringing into his mind even as his skin still shivers with half-remembered woundings. Kim Ga On hesitates, then kisses back. Just as forceful, but with a gentleness that Kang Yohan has rarely felt in his life. That gentleness alone forcing Kang Yohan to slow down, Kim Ga On’s tongue licking into his mouth with tender abandon. Biting down sweetly on Kang Yohan’s lower lip and Kang Yohan is unable to help himself, to do anything but let him in.

Kim Ga On studies his face when they break apart to breathe, but whatever he must find there has the strained furrow between his brows relaxing. The corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiles, brushing his bangs out of his eyes in a gesture that reminds Kang Yohan so much of Isaac ruffling his hair that he feels his eyes stinging.

And then a wave of heat crests over Kang Yohan, and he damn near topples over in Kim Ga On’s lap, his body going limp. Kim Ga On catches him before he can fall over, palm brushing over his forehead and he curses in alarm.

“Your fever’s spiked again,” He says urgently. Kang Yohan finds it in himself to give Kim Ga On a lightly taunting smile, drowning in Kim Ga On’s spring scent, clinging to conscious thought with all of his might.

“Better get a move on, then,” He drawls. Kim Ga On’s gaze flashes hot. He moves then, tugging his shirt over his arms and his sweatpants down, pushing Kang Yohan’s robe open and his body down beneath him. The sight of Kim Ga On’s nakedness makes Kang Yohan lose his breath, and he finds himself cataloguing each and every difference between Kim Ga On and Isaac he can remember. Hard muscles instead of a scholar’s softness, calloused palms that spoke of a working class background. And of course, that tattoo. Isaac had always wanted one, but could never bring himself to go against his father’s adherence to tradition and choose something for himself.

The only time Isaac had ever gone against his father, was whenever Kang Yohan was involved. As his fingers trace the wings of the crow on Kim Ga On's muscular back, he wonders what his brother could have chosen for himself, had he had time.

Kim Ga On leans down, caging Kang Yohan between his arms and knees. Staring back at him until he’s the only one Kang Yohan can see. Kang Yohan stares back evenly, and then Kim Ga On smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He kisses Kang Yohan, slow and gentle, like Kang Yohan is something treasured and not the warped mirror of his father’s cruelty and his brother’s loss, and Kang Yohan can do nothing else but kiss him back.

“I’m right here,” Kim Ga On whispers, warm mouth trailing kisses down the damp corners of his eyes. Kang Yohan wonders what he had seen on his face to prompt that question. “Just tell me what you need.” Kang Yohan shudders. In his life, no one had ever asked him that, besides Isaac.

Right now, what he needs is simple enough. “Do what your kind are bred to do, then,” Kang Yohan says, tilting his head with that false submission that had worked so well last time. “Can you give me that?” He doesn’t bother to hide the thrill that ripples through him as Kim Ga On’s gaze darkens and he does precisely what Kang Yohan tells him. Moving so that he’s bracing his arm beside Kang Yohan’s head, the fingers of his other hand reaching down, pushing Kang Yohan’s thighs open. Kang Yohan lets him, and Kim Ga On swallows. His hand closes over Kang Yohan’s erect cock, and Kang Yohan lets out a low, slow exhale.

Kim Ga On presses a gentle kiss against his jaw and gets to work. Stroking up and down Kang Yohan’s shaft, playing with his testicles, leaning down to kiss him after every squeeze. A tender rhythm that has Kang Yohan shifting restlessly beneath him, his fingers digging into his sheets, his hips rolling up as Kim Ga On touches him, his thighs covered with the sheen of his own slick.

Kim Ga On waits. He waits until Kang Yohan’s eased into the rhythm. Then he lets go of Kang Yohan’s shaft, reaches down further, between Kang Yohan’s legs, and the mischievous glint in his eye is all the warning Kang Yohan gets before Kim Ga On’s pushes two of his fingers into his sensitive, aching hole.

Kang Yohan jerks, a cry torn out of him. He’s so wet that Kim Ga On’s fingers slip in with ease, nerves so alight that the sensation alone has him bucking up and trembling. His thighs and legs tensing, quivering as Kim Ga On kisses whatever composure he has left out of him. Fingers dipping in and out. Pressing in and exploring and Kang Yohan feels his hips rock up to meet them. Voice hoarse from low gasps and curses, glaring at Kim Ga On’s flushed, grinning face.

Sweat drips off his skin. The fever burns through him, steady and inexorable. Kim Ga On sinks his fingers in, three knuckles deep, and Kang Yohan feels his body arch up. Feels Kim Ga On’s every skillful thrust lighting up nerves and pathways of pleasure that Kang Yohan hadn’t realized he could feel, and Kang Yohan’s legs quiver and his eyes blur as Kim Ga On kisses him him and kisses him.

Kim Ga On arcs his finger, and Kang Yohan shouts as he feels it hit a spot that has white-hot pleasure lancing through him. He bites into Kim Ga On’s mouth, his last conscious movement before he spills onto their bellies.

They lie together in a fevered jumble. Pleasure pulsing through Kang Yohan’s body, heat burning through his skin as Kim Ga On looks at him with tear-bright eyes. Breathing his air, pushing his bangs out of his face with a gentleness that reminds him painfully of Isaac. Then excruciatingly slowly, he withdraws his fingers from Kang Yohan’s hole. The loss making Kang Yohan’s breath catch until Ki Ga On takes his cock, lines it up against his rim. Their gazes meet, and Kim Ga On waits for Kang Yohan’s jerky nod, for his arms to come up and wind around Kim Ga On’s shoulders. Holding on and Kim Ga On breathes against Kang Yohan’s throat before stroking down his flank and pushing in.

His memories fall into a bur after that. He remembers Kim Ga On filling him up, until there was nowhere left for him to hide within himself. He remembers Kim Ga On fucking him, steadily, relentlessly tender. Remembers clenching around Kim Ga On’s cock, breath catching as he feels his knot inflate. Whimpering into his throat as he felt himself being filled.

And then he remembers coming for one last time. His wrung-out cock spilling one final, weak stream, the wet gush of slick between his legs as his fingers clench bruising-tight at Kim Ga On’s shoulders, fingers digging into his tattoo. Kim Ga On whispers comfort into Kang Yohan’s ears as his legs, then his entire body going slack. Barely feeling the tacky fluid dribbling between his legs, Kim Ga On’s knot still inside of him, his skin cooling as Kim Ga On pants against his throat.

Most of all, he remembers this: Kim Ga On shifting, enough that Kang Yohan feels his breath fanning out warm over his neck. Brushing against his bonding gland. Kang Yohan going stiff as tension flooded him, and Kim Ga On moving away – as much as his knot can let him. Bracing his hands on either side of Kang Yohan, watching his face carefully, his eyes warm and soft. Exactly like Isaac’s, and so very different at the same time.

Kang Yohan remembers breathing in deep, and for the first time in his life smelling sweetness instead of smoke, comfort instead of fear. His last conscious thought is of tugging Kim Ga On down towards him with limbs turning numb from exhaustion, Kim Ga On curling protectively around him, and the scent of crushed herbs follows Kang Yohan down into the dark as he falls all the way asleep.

Almost too soon, he finds himself being pulled into unwilling wakefulness once more.

Past heats had always left Kang Yohan wrung out and nauseous. The lingering reek always made it worse. After Isaac’s death, the rare times Kang Yohan forced himself to suffer them – only when an absolute medical necessity, and always alone – Kang Yohan had usually stumbled out of bed right into the bathroom in a bid to wash the evidence off of him as quickly as possible. If he was feeling indulgent, he would even allow himself the luxury of weeping for a few moments before he had to pull himself together, ramming control back into the very marrows of his bones.

His body feels no less disgusting now. But when Kang Yohan takes a cautious breath, it’s to the scent of earth, crushed herbs, and an unfamiliar sweetness, clean sheets instead of sweat-sour bedcovers. Instead of tacky, his skin feels clean, washed. As if someone had taken the time and effort to care for him.

Someone is taking care of him. A soft voice pulls him into full wakefulness, as do gentle fingers in his hair.

“Wake up, Yohan. I’m sorry, but you need to eat and drink.” Kang Yohan opens his eyes to see Kim Ga On, sitting cross-legged beside him. Watching him with a mixture of anxiety and softness that Kang Yohan has not been the recipient of since Isaac’s death. And when he looks around him, instead of the dark blue draperies and sheets of his room, he sees the gold gilt and elegant but impersonal decorations of Kim Ga On’s guestroom.

Kim Ga On reaches over to the night table beside him, takes a glass of water and a pack of pills.

“Drink this. And this. Emergency contraceptives.” Kang Yohan hurriedly pushes himself up, reaching for the glass and the pills, shooting Kim Ga On a look when he looks like he’s about to help him drink like he was an invalid. He doesn’t think he’s imagining the wistful expression that crosses Kim Ga On’s face when he pops one of the pills into his mouth and washes it down with the water.

The water helps clear his head. So does the relief of not being bound to his biology. Kang Yohan sighs, leaning back heavily against the headboard, wincing at the loose-limbed state of his body. He blinks when he sees the clothes he’s wearing. Whose clothes he is wearing, on top of the room he’s in.

“I hope you don’t mind my bringing you here. And dressing you,” Kim Ga On says quietly, and Kang Yohan gives him a sharp glance. “Your scent... I was worried it would make you panic more, if you could still smell it.” Kang Yohan blinks hard, feeling his ire deflate like a popped balloon. He says nothing, as tongue-tied as a child receiving affection for the first time. The memories of the past few days trickling in the longer he stays conscious and part of him wants to bury his head beneath the thick embroidered covers and never wake up.

“May I?” Kim Ga On asks quietly, when it becomes clear Kang Yohan won’t be breaking the silence. He holds out his wrist, and Kang Yohan is too wrung out to deny himself. He nods slowly, and Kim Ga On leans forwards.

The brush of Kim Ga On’s wrist is warm against the side of his neck. There’s nothing aggressive about the movement, nothing that spoke of propriety, or ownership. Just gentleness. He’s careful but thorough as he marks Kang Yohan on the side of his neck, the hollow of his throat, his cheek. Bit by bit, Kang Yohan relaxes.

He only hesitates once, his wrist hovering over the back of Kang Yohan’s neck, right over his bonding gland. Kang Yohan’s throat closes up. He shakes his head, fingers clenching tight, and exhales in relief when Kim Ga on draws back, leaning heavily against the headboard. His hand rests by his side, close enough for Kang Yohan to take.

“Your scent,” Kim Ga On murmurs. “It’s changed.” His voice cracks in relief. Kang Yohan frowns, then notices. The acrid smoke smell that always hung around him had faded into burnt sugar sweetness – the sweetness he had sensed was his own, but much stronger than it’s ever been, with only the lightest hint of smoke underlining it. He blinks, wrinkling his nose at his own natural scent. He doesn’t actually like it any more than the smoke, but at least it no longer makes his chest clench tight with panic.

“Yohan?” Kim Ga On says tentatively. “Are you all right?”

His sheer exhaustion makes him brutally honest. “I was assaulted, drugged, humiliated, and as a result of the foregoing was forced to spend an unplanned heat with my subordinate.” Kang Yohan finds himself saying, his voice brittle. Shaky. “No, Judge Kim. I am not all right.” It’s more honesty than he intended to express. Kim Ga On blinks hard, his head hanging low, his voice strained as he speaks.

“You’re right. That was a stupid question. I’m sorry.” He begins to stand. “If you’d like to be alone-” Kang Yohan catches his arm, hating himself for how his scent spikes.

“I didn’t say you could leave,” He says, with all the imperiousness of his performances in the Live Court. Kim Ga On hesitates, his bitter green scent mingling with warm spring. Kang Yohan’s throat flexes.

“And I didn’t say I don’t want you.” His voice goes quiet. “You were the one thing I actually wanted, throughout all of this.” Kim Ga On sucks in a breath. His eyes too bright, as Kang Yohan watches him from behind his fringe.

“Do you still want me here with you, then?” Kim Ga On asks, his voice tight. Kang Yohan forces himself to nod.

“Then I’ll stay here,” Kim Ga On says. “If you’ll let me.”

The relief that floods through Kang Yohan is painful, even as his kneejerk instinct is to say something cruel. To tell Kim Ga On he isn’t some ravished maiden that needed his protection or comfort. But Kang Yohan has only enough energy to nod and lean into Kim Ga On’s touch and allow him to wrap him in his arms. To let him hold him for a few minutes before gently pulling away and standing up so he can serve them the light breakfast he had cooked himself, still warm and fresh and nothing like Mrs. Ji’s cooking at all.

As the two of them eat their first proper meal in days, Kang Yohan makes a decision. His father had tried his best to grind Kang Yohan under his heel in a bid to assert his own power. Jung Sun-ah had delighted in having him under her control perhaps because it had been the first time she had tasted it in her pathetic existence. He doesn’t doubt that Kim Ga On won’t be as indifferent to power and its lures, in spite of his principles and beautiful, fragile idealism.

Kang Yohan will ensure it, if no one else will. He will not, cannot allow him to go the way Isaac had.

Even if it means he has to destroy that innocence himself.

For now, he watches the worry ease out of Kim Ga On’s face with every bite, the warmth of his breath fanning out over his nape. The scent of spring and sweetness surrounding them both as Kang Yohan leans back against Kim Ga On and allows himself to feel safe.

----------

Kang Yohan falls asleep again after eating, still exhausted after his ordeal. Kim Ga On holds him, pulling the blankets up over them both. In his sleep, Kang Yohan noses along Kim Ga On’s scent glands, and his features go slack with relaxation as he unconsciously nuzzles deeper into Kim Ga On's arms.

The sweetness of his scent remains. The smoke lingers, soft, still perceptible but no longer so overpowering. Under their soft little world under this blanket, Kim Ga On allows himself to wonder what Kang Yohan could have been, if he had grown up anywhere but in this dark, lonely household. If he hadn’t spent his childhood hidden away, then the rest of his life hiding himself.

Perhaps they would never have met, if so. The thought makes him curl tighter around Kang Yohan. A monster, he had come to realize, was simply that which was so blinded by its pain that it could do nothing else but inflict it on the rest of the world. And Kim Ga On knows better than to believe its terrible maw won’t also close down on himself.

Kim Ga On watches Kang Yohan’s closed eyes twitch in sleep Later, Kim Ga On will coax Kang Yohan out of the bedroom to the kitchen. Mrs. Ji will try very hard not to look at them but she will be smiling, and Kang Yohan will avoid Elijah’s smugly triumphant grin the entire time. They will ignore Mrs. Ji’s protests and insistence that they let her cook dinner alone, and sit around the same table to eat. Kang Yohan hesitating, then accepting Kim Ga On sitting beside him, serving him. Kim Ga On ducking his head and smiling as he offers him the choicest morsels from his plate. The two of them half in their own world, as the two women grin and elbow each other in approval.

Afterwards, Kim Ga On will call Soo Hyun after two days of silence, unable to tell her a word of what had happened. Even with the both of them on the same line, drawing comfort from each other’s presence, Kim Ga On will feel the increasingly-insurmountable distance between them. The gulf between what his life used to be and who he is now.

Kim Ga On cannot see the end of the shadowed path that Kang Yohan has led him into. All Kim Ga On can hope, as he watches Kang Yohan sleep, is to stare into the abyss. To hold onto Kang Yohan’s broken, beating heart, and not let its darkness consume them both.