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Jeongguk is a hopeless romantic, the kind of man who still believes his person is out there somewhere, waiting for him too. He’s had a few relationships before, but none of them worked out. Still, that never made him lose faith. If anything, it only strengthened his belief that those people weren’t meant to be his happy ending. They were just stops along the way. He often tells himself, “To reach somewhere, you have to leave where you are.” So, every heartbreak, every goodbye , he sees it as a step closer to the one who’s truly meant for him. He doesn’t know when or how he’ll find them. But he knows he will.

By profession, Jeongguk is a renowned psychologist. People usually imagine psychologists as silent, distant and emotionally tired, maybe because that’s how movies and shows like to portray them. But Jeongguk is the opposite. He’s gentle. Sensitive. The kind of person who feels deeply and listens like he actually cares , because he does. Maybe that’s why he chose this path in the first place: to understand, to help, to heal. He loves what he does, loves knowing that his words can make someone feel lighter. And though he’s soft-hearted, he’s also disciplined , never crossing the lines of professionalism, never breaking the rules that define his work.

He’s proud of that balance , the man who believes in love and still keeps his heart steady enough to mend others’.

But destiny, as always, had other plans for him. How could he know? He was just living his life, going with the flow like he always did , helping people, waiting for his person, believing that someday love would simply appear. And maybe, just maybe, it does. In the most unexpected place — a nightclub.

“I can’t drink a lot, Jin-hyung. I have sessions tomorrow,” Jeongguk groans, pushing the glass away.

“Oh, please, man. You need to relax a little,” Jin says, waving a hand dramatically before turning toward his boyfriend. “Joon, can you please get me two more tequila shots?” he asks, pressing a quick kiss to Namjoon’s cheek.

“I’ll get it for you,” Jeongguk says, standing up , partly to help, mostly to escape his almost-drunk friend who’ll soon start nagging and then inevitably get busy with his boyfriend in a way Jeongguk really doesn’t need to see tonight.

“You’re an angel. Make it three shots, yeah? And pay for them too,” Namjoon mumbles, burying his face into Jin’s neck.

“Sure,” Jeongguk chuckles, shaking his head. He’s used to it, by the end of every month, his friends’ wallets are always as empty as their tequila glasses.

“And don’t forget to chug one yourself!” Jin calls out behind him.

Jeongguk raises a thumbs-up in response and walks toward the bar counter, ordering three shots of tequila, completely unaware that tonight, something more intoxicating than alcohol is waiting for him.

The bartender nods and begins to pour the shots when Jeongguk’s eyes wander, and that’s when he sees him.

Amid the noise and laughter, surrounded by people talking and clinking glasses, there’s a man sitting alone. He looks... detached, almost bored, his gaze drifting lazily around the room. But there’s something in his eyes – something Jeongguk can’t name. He doesn’t know. All he knows is that he can’t look away.

The man is beautiful in a way that feels almost unreal – silver hair glinting under the dim lights, a red silk shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal a few delicate chains resting against his skin. Long earrings catch the light every time he moves. And Jeongguk swears he’s wearing lipstick. , The soft red tint on his mouth makes his features look even more dangerous, more captivating.

“Sir, your drinks.”

Jeongguk startles, turning back to the bartender. “Ah, yeah. Can you please send them to table seven in the VIP section?”

As the bartender nods and signals a waiter, Jeongguk’s eyes flicker back to the man, afraid that if he blinks, he’ll vanish. But he’s still there, unmoving, quietly sipping his drink, still completely uninterested in everything around him.

“Sure, sir,” the bartender says, as the waiter collects the tray. Jeongguk slips him some cash and turns again, gaze pulled back toward that silver-haired stranger.

He stands there, heart thumping quietly, trying to gather the courage to walk over. But what would he even say?

Hi.  Hello, I’m Jeongguk and I think you’re beautiful?

No. Too direct.

Hi, are you a wizard? Because you just cast a spell on me.

He winces internally. What the hell, since when am I this cheesy?

Okay. Breathe. Man up, Jeongguk. Just go.

He sits down on the bar stool, runs a hand through his hair, and closes his eyes for a second, exhaling the nerves out of his chest. When he opens them again , his heart stumbles.

Because that man, –that unreal, red-silk, silver-haired beauty– is looking right at him.

Their eyes meet.

Jeongguk stops breathing.

The man smiles.

And just like that, Jeongguk feels alive again. Like someone pressed restart on his heart.

He smiles back, small but genuine.

“Fuck,” he whispers under his breath, biting his lip.

The man says something to his friends, then stands, and starts walking toward him. Jeongguk’s gaze drifts down automatically. Black leather pants. Little heeled boots. Every step is pure temptation. His legs move like sin, like danger wrapped in silk and perfume.

And for a moment, Jeongguk swears , if that’s how the angel of death looks, he’d gladly surrender his soul.

“Hi.”

The voice is deep, low, and smooth , the kind that vibrates right through him. And no, Jeongguk isn’t a pervert, but God, that voice alone could ruin him.

He shoots up from his seat, nervous and breathless. “H-Hi.”

The man smiles again, closer this time, close enough for Jeongguk to smell him. Musk and something faintly floral. Red rose, maybe.

Red shirt. Red rose. Red lips.

“Wanna get out of here?” he murmurs, the words brushing against Jeongguk’s ear like a spell.

And Jeongguk nods, of course he does. How could he not?

The man smiles, a knowing kind of smile, then turns toward the exit. As he passes the counter, he casually picks up a bottle of red wine. Jeongguk, without even thinking, pulls out some cash and places it down, eyes never leaving that red silk figure as he follows him out into the cold night.

The air outside bites at his skin, but Jeongguk doesn’t care. The man stops and turns, his silver hair glinting under the streetlights.

“There are stairs to the roof on the backside,” he says. “Wanna go there?”

Jeongguk nods again, though part of him thinks maybe an apartment would’ve been better, but his feet move anyway, trailing after him up the narrow stairwell until they step onto the rooftop.

It’s quiet here, almost too quiet. The music from below fades into a distant hum, replaced by the soft whistle of wind. The place looks abandoned, a few broken chairs, forgotten crates, but none of that matters. Not when he’s here.

“The view’s beautiful, isn’t it?” the man asks, walking toward the edge.

Jeongguk glances around, then back at him. The city lights flicker below, but honestly, who could care about the view when the most beautiful thing in the world is standing right in front of him?

“Yeah,” he says softly, though his eyes never leave the man.

The stranger turns, catches him staring, and lets out a small laugh. “Are you ever gonna stop looking at me?”

“No,” Jeongguk says, shaking his head, almost smiling.

“Why?” the man asks, stepping closer.

“Because you’re too beautiful to look away from.”

He smiles, slow, dangerous, devastating. “You’re not bad yourself.”

Jeongguk breathes out a quiet laugh, taking another step forward until there’s barely any space left between them. “Doesn’t matter. Who’s gonna look at me if you’re in the same room?”

The man’s gaze softens, lips curving. “Then I will,” he whispers.

“Can I kiss you?” Jeongguk asks, his voice low and unsteady, breath ghosting against the other’s lips. His eyes stay fixed on that perfect mouth , maybe that’s why he notices the tiny shift, the way the man’s smile flickers before he licks his lips slowly.

“Let’s make some rules first,” the man says instead.

Jeongguk hums, distracted, gaze still locked on those red-stained lips. “Rules?”

“No kissing. No truth. No contact exchange.”

“What?” Jeongguk blinks, pulling back slightly, confused.

“We can hook up,” the man says calmly, “but no kissing. We can talk, but we don’t tell each other real things , not our names, not our jobs. And no contact exchange. No numbers, no addresses. Nothing.” He gulps, looking away for a second. “If you agree, fine. If not, I’ll just go.”

“But why?” Jeongguk asks, irritation slipping into his voice. He’s not in the mood for games, not with someone like this.

The man only shrugs, unreadable. “Deal or not?”

Jeongguk’s heart twists. He wants to say no. He wants to scream no. He wants to kiss him, to know his name, to ask him out for breakfast tomorrow, to see him again and again until this feeling makes sense. But the thought of him walking away now , that’s something Jeongguk can’t risk.

He exhales, defeated. “Deal,” he says quietly.

The man’s smile returns, bright and beautiful. “Hi. I’m Tae.” He offers his hand.

“Jaykay,” Jeongguk replies, wrapping both hands around his. And I’m already in love with you.

Shut up, Jeongguk.

“Nice.” Tae grins and slips his hand away. “Let’s drink.”

He walks toward the edge of the roof and sits down, legs stretched out as he looks at the city lights. Jeongguk follows, sitting beside him. Tae lifts the wine bottle and takes a slow sip, and that’s when Jeongguk notices, that the bottle’s already open.

Tae passes him the bottle, and Jeongguk takes a sip, the taste of sweet red wine blooming on his tongue. Red. Everything about this man is red. red shirt, red lips, red wine. The color of love, lust, danger… and maybe, death.

“So,” Tae begins, eyes glinting as he leans back on his palms, “why were you sitting alone at the bar? You’re quite handsome. And you look rich.”

Jeongguk laughs softly. “I was there with friends. Left them because of you.”

Tae tilts his head, smirking. “Because of me? Why?”

“Because” Jeongguk says simply, “you look like my person.”

Tae’s brows rise. “Your person?”

Jeongguk nods. “Yeah. I believe there’s someone made for everyone.”

Tae scoffs, shaking his head. “That’s bullshit. We come here alone, live alone, and die alone.”

“That’s not true,” Jeongguk says, handing him the bottle. He opens his mouth to continue, but Tae cuts him off, suddenly bright again.

“What’s your favorite song? Let’s play one.”

“What?” Jeongguk blinks, thrown off. This guy is so weird.

“Your favorite song,” Tae repeats, eyes wide and expectant. “The real one. Not a fake answer.”

Jeongguk thinks for a second. He’s never really considered it before. “To Find You.”

“Ahh, I love that one,” Tae grins, unlocking his phone and playing the song. He sets it down, then stands and reaches his hand toward Jeongguk. “Let’s dance.”

“Here?” Jeongguk asks, smiling.

Tae nods.

So Jeongguk stands, slipping his hand into Tae’s. “We just walked out of a club… to dance on an empty rooftop,” he chuckles.

“There, everyone’s watching,” Tae says softly, placing one hand on Jeongguk’s waist while the other stays clasped with his. “Here, it’s just us. It’s better.”

Jeongguk can’t argue. It is better. The music drifts quietly between them, the city lights flickering below as they sway together under the night sky. And Jeongguk realizes something , he doesn’t mind where he is, as long as he’s with this strange, beautiful man.

He feels it , that warmth, that pull , and it surprises him, how deep it already goes.

Maybe that’s what it’s supposed to feel like. Maybe that’s how it feels when you finally find your person.

“Do you like it?” Tae asks, his voice low, his mismatched eyes searching Jeongguk’s.

“I do,” Jeongguk says softly. His gaze lingers, one mono-lid, the other double-lid, and a tiny mole resting on Tae’s eyelid like a secret detail only he was meant to see. “You’re so beautiful.”

Tae swallows, then lets out a faint laugh. “What’s beautiful about me?”

“Your eyes,” Jeongguk answers without hesitation. “They’re so pretty.”

“They’re not the same,” Tae points out quietly. “Both are different.”

Jeongguk smiles, shaking his head. “That’s what makes them perfect. Imperfections make things real… unique.” He breathes in, and the faint scent of Tae.  He hopes Tae doesn’t notice.

“Aren’t you a sweet talker?” Tae teases, the corner of his mouth curling up , but his eyes give him away. There’s something there. Jeongguk still can't name it.

“What else?” Tae asks again, voice almost a whisper now.

Jeongguk blinks, then his gaze drops, to those lips. “Your lips,” he says, barely audible.

“Are they pretty?”

He hums, licking his own lips unconsciously. “Yeah… Are you wearing lipstick?”

“Yeah,” Tae says, tone casual at first, “my lips got a little dark after smoking all day, so I just,” He suddenly stops, the realization flashing across his face like a spark. “Oh.” The truth had slipped out unexpected.

“I’m sure it still looks pretty,” Jeongguk murmurs, leaning in just enough to catch the faint trace of smoke on Tae’s breath, but there’s none. Just the soft, intoxicating scent of red wine.

“I wanna kiss you,” he says, voice rough, heavy with want.

“No.” Tae’s reply is simple, quiet, but his body still moves with Jeongguk’s, their hands brushing as the song fades into a slow piano melody.

“Please,” Jeongguk whispers. “Can’t we just break one rule?”

“No,” Tae mutters again, though he leans closer, so close that Jeongguk can feel his breath, warm and sweet. His lashes flutter, lips parting instinctively. He’s sure their mouths are about to meet when Tae whispers, “We can fuck.”

Jeongguk freezes. “I don’t want to.”

Tae pulls back slightly, eyes searching his. “Why?” He sounds genuinely surprised.

“Because you’re my person,” Jeongguk says quietly. “Not a one-night stand.”

Tae’s lips twitch, the faintest trace of conflict flashing in his eyes. “I’m not gonna meet you again.”

“It’s okay, I’ll wait for you. I’ll find my way to you.”

Tae exhales, almost laughing under his breath. “But I’m horny.”

Jeongguk feels his touch , light fingers brushing the side of his neck, a soft, teasing drag of skin against skin. Tae’s breath ghosts over his lips, so close it almost hurts. Jeongguk’s tongue flicks out instinctively, brushing nothing but air.

“No kiss, JK,” 

“Let me just taste you. I won’t kiss.”

Tae smiles, leans in, and touches Jeongguk’s chin, tilting it up. Jeongguk parts his lips without thinking. He feels like a puppet, but his whole body is on fire, his heartbeat pounding against his ribs. Tae slips his tongue out, brushing it against Jeongguk’s , just once, a hot, fleeting touch that sets his nerves ablaze. And then it’s gone.

“How do I taste?” Tae asks softly.

“Like a sin,” Jeongguk whispers.

Tae chuckles, low and breathy. Jeongguk opens his eyes to find him still close, too close. His gaze falls to Tae’s lips, and he almost leans forward, desperate to capture them. He could do anything , everything , except kiss. Yet that’s all he wants.

Tae presses a kiss to his cheek instead. “Wanna suck me off?”

“No.” Jeongguk’s eyes stay fixed on his lips.

“You want me to, then?”

“No.”

“Hand job?”

“No.”

“Eat me out?”

“No.”

“I can ride you.”

“No.” Jeongguk exhales, their breaths tangling. He leans closer until his words brush Tae’s mouth.

“Just wanna kiss you.”

“Are you always this stubborn? You can have everything, except this.”

“But I only want this.” Jeongguk presses their foreheads together. “Please.”

“No. I’m sorry.”

Jeongguk closes his eyes. “Can we meet again?”

“Do you always ask strangers that?”

“No. Only you.”

“No.”

Jeongguk lowers his head to Tae’s shoulder and presses a faint kiss to his neck. “Tae.”

“Hmm?” Tae hums, his arms slowly wrapping around Jeongguk’s waist.

“If we ever meet again,” Jeongguk whispers, “will you let me kiss you?”

There’s a silence, soft and heavy, before Tae answers, “I’ll let you do it. If we meet.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Now I only want to meet you again,” Jeongguk mumbles against his neck.

“Then you have to let me go today, so we can meet again.”

“I don’t want to.” Jeongguk’s arms tighten around him.

“Are you always this clingy?” Tae chuckles.

Jeongguk pauses, thinking. Maybe it’s the wine, the warmth, the ache in his chest. That's why he’s like this. “I don’t know.”

The song fades, and a phone rings instead.

“I have to go,” Tae says.

“What? Now?” Jeongguk pulls away, blinking. “At least stay the night with me.”

Tae looks at him for a moment, unreadable, then nods. “Okay.”

“...Okay?”

“Yeah. Come here.” He tugs Jeongguk toward the corner, where an old torn mattress lies carelessly against the floor. Tae sits first, then pulls Jeongguk down beside him until they’re both lying there.

“Wow. You’re really not going?” Jeongguk murmurs, half in disbelief.

Tae doesn’t answer.

“Are you angry?” Jeongguk asks after a pause. He doesn’t understand Tae, and he doesn’t understand himself either.

“Why would I be?”

“I don’t know,” Jeongguk slurs. The warmth makes him drowsy. He turns to look at Tae, who’s gazing up at the ceiling, or maybe the sky through the open window. His earring catches the dim light, swaying softly.

“You’re so beautiful,” Jeongguk mumbles.

Tae finally turns his head and meets his gaze. “Sleep.”

Jeongguk nods, eyes heavy, but he keeps staring for another moment, at those eyes that seem to hold too many stories. He wants to ask, what’s in them?

And just before sleep pulls him under, the word surfaces quietly in his mind.

Sadness. 

    There was so much sadness in his eyes.

---

When Jeongguk wakes at dawn, he’s alone.

✤

Seven months later

Jeongguk is standing in his office that’s also the Counseling room. He opens the file and starts reading through the case notes of his new patient. A senior therapist had referred this one to him. Why? He really wants to know. The history says the patient has switched through several therapists over the past few years. Why?

His phone buzzes, breaking his train of thought. Without checking the screen, he answers. “Yes, Hyung?”

“Meet me tonight. At the bar,” Seokjin says.

“Why?” Jeongguk asks absentmindedly, flipping another page.

“I want you to meet someone.”

“Aah, Hyung… I told you; I don’t want to.”

“You can’t find that guy, Guk. Please, give up already.” Seokjin’s voice carries both irritation and worry.

“He was my person, Hyung. How can I stop looking for him?” Jeongguk says quietly. “If I do, I’ll never be honest with anyone else. I’ll always regret it.” His eyes fall to the patient’s name, someone who’ll be walking through his office door any minute now.

Seokjin sighs. “Okay, suppose you find him. Then what?”

“Then I’ll make him fall in love with me,” Jeongguk replies simply.

“That’s not how it works, JK. But fine. And if he rejects you? Then what? You’ll finally move on?”

Jeongguk thinks for a moment. “I don’t know. As long as I’m alive, I still have a chance.”

“God, I wanna smack some sense into you.” Seokjin groans. “Okay, so what are you gonna say to him when you find him?”

“Let’s fall in love and live happily ever after,” Jeongguk says with a faint smile. “Hyung, just give me three more weeks. I’ll find him.”

Before Seokjin can respond, there’s a knock on the door. His assistant peeks in. “Your patient is here, sir.”

“Send them in,” Jeongguk replies, still holding the phone to his ear.

“How would you even find him? You don’t even know his name,” Seokjin says, half-exasperated.

Jeongguk opens his mouth to respond, but then the door opens.

He freezes. His gaze lifts to the man stepping inside.

“Kim Taehyung,” he says quietly.

“What?” Seokjin’s confused voice comes through the phone.

“His name,” Jeongguk murmurs, lowering the phone and ending the call.

He moves out from behind his desk, heart pounding, toward the door, where Kim Taehyung, his new patient, stands.

He’s wearing a light grey sweater and black pants. His hair falls in soft black strands, his eyes shadowed by dark circles. Even from a distance, Jeongguk notices his lips are dark, and dry.

Grey.

That’s the color of Kim Taehyung.

Jeongguk’s mind flickers back to the red of his Tae.

So different from this grey.

“Hi,” Jeongguk says, stepping forward.

Taehyung doesn’t say a word, just lifts his hand up for a handshake,  and Jeongguk takes it. The touch is cold, rough. Taehyung smiles, polite and effortless.

“Come, sit,” Jeongguk says, his voice steady though his chest feels anything but.

Jeongguk is a professional. If he weren’t, he’d probably be crying right now. Shouldn’t he be screaming? Maybe, if he were meeting his Tae. But this isn’t him. This is Kim Taehyung — his patient.

Taehyung walks to the couch and sits down, crossing one leg over the other. It doesn’t feel like he’s here for therapy. It feels like he’s just dropped by for tea.

Weird, as always.

“You must’ve read my file?” 

Jeongguk’s heart thudding so fast –he wonders if Taehyung can hear it– but still he replies in a calm voice. “Yes. Kim Taehyung, twenty-five. Fear of intimacy, emotional detachment, fear of emotional dependency, anxiety.” Jeongguk reads the words from the file again, but this time each word is stabbing him in his chest.

“Wow. You practically have a PhD on me,” Taehyung scoffs.

“I don’t,” Jeongguk says, placing the file aside. “But I’m going to.” He looks up at him. “You’ve changed four therapists in two years. Why?”

“I didn’t like them.” Taehyung shrugs, casual but guarded.

“Or maybe,” Jeongguk says slowly, “you got scared they’d start to really know you. That you’d get attached and they’d see the real you.”

Taehyung’s expression hardens immediately, anger flashing across his face. “No. Because every single one of them was overconfident. Thought they could read me. just like you.”

Jeongguk smiles faintly. “So, are you planning to leave me too?” again.

“I’m trying to give you a chance,” Taehyung mutters.

“Why?”

Taehyung exhales, his voice quiet this time. “Because I want to get better.”

That wasn’t what Jeongguk expected, honestly, it’s the last thing he thought he’d hear from Taehyung. The words hit somewhere deep, and he swallows hard, forcing the lump in his throat down.

He manages a small smile. “You will get better. I promise.”

“Don’t make promises like that,” 

Jeongguk looks up, meeting his gaze. “If I make a promise, I don’t break it.”

Taehyung stares back, eyes empty yet carrying a strange kind of silence, an indifference that unsettles him.

“Do you break your promises, Tae?” Jeongguk asks before he can stop himself. The name slips out too easily, and the moment it does, regret crashes into him. He watches Taehyung’s face, desperate for any flicker of emotion.

But there’s nothing.

Taehyung just wets his lips and says, “No. I don’t.”

Jeongguk goes quiet after that, the silence stretching between them…then—

“I’ll let you kiss me.”

Taehyung’s voice slices through the silence, and in that instant, everything clicks into place.

He remembers.

Tae knows he’s Jaykay.

But why? Why now? He shouldn’t. Jeongguk’s chest tightens painfully. For a fleeting moment, he wishes Taehyung didn’t remember him at all. This–this isn’t how he wanted to see him again. Not like this. Not in this room, not under these circumstances.

He looks down, swallowing hard.

“I never thought I’d meet you like this,” Taehyung says with a small smile. “Missed me?”

“No.” The word comes out too fast.

Taehyung smirks, the corner of his mouth lifting in that same familiar way. “Doesn’t seem like it. You remembered my name. You remembered the promise.”

Jeongguk forces a breath, his voice low. “That doesn’t mean I missed you. It just means I haven’t forgotten you.”

He moves toward the window and pushes it open, letting the cold air rush in. His chest rises and falls too quickly; it feels like his lungs can’t keep up.

Behind him, Taehyung says softly, “I didn’t forget you either.”

Jeongguk keeps his eyes on the mountains outside, refusing to turn around.

“Did you try to find me?” Taehyung asks.

“No.” A lie. But Taehyung doesn’t need to know that.

“I thought about looking for you,” Taehyung admits after a pause, “but I didn’t have a reason.”

Jeongguk doesn’t reply. He only hears the soft creak of footsteps behind him, feels the air shift, the warmth of someone too close. A faint scent reaches him: musk and cigarette smoke.

He coughs lightly.

That’s not how his Tae used to smell.

“Jk.”

Jeongguk turns, and freezes. Taehyung is standing right in front of him, close enough that he can feel his breath.

“Tae,” Jeongguk murmurs, barely audible.

“Make a choice,” Taehyung says, stepping even closer. His voice drops to a whisper near Jeongguk’s ear. “You can kiss me now, and I’ll go. Or we can walk back and start the session.”

Once again, a game. A test. A choice between two losses.

If he chooses the long-awaited kiss, he’ll lose the time he could spend with Taehyung. But if he chooses time, he’ll lose the kiss, and maybe lose him altogether. Because he can’t kiss his patient. He can’t cross that line. He needs to be professional.

Jeongguk looks at him, at the curve of his lips. Grey— like the rest of him now. Then his eyes, soft beneath the fall of hair where strands of silver glint faintly. He looks back down at the lips again before whispering, almost to himself, “Would you put on red lipstick before I kiss you?”

He doesn’t even know why he asks that. Maybe it’s a memory. Maybe it’s longing.

Taehyung chuckles quietly. “I don’t have one with me right now. But I can buy one for you and wear it.”

Jeongguk exhales shakily and shakes his head. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Taehyung says simply.

“Can I kiss you and pretend it never happened and start the session?” Jeongguk asks, his voice low, searching for a middle ground that doesn’t exist.

“No.”

“Please,” he tries again, the word coming out like a quiet plea. He hates how small he sounds; how familiar this ache feels.

“No. It’s not a good idea,” Taehyung says evenly. Then, after a pause, “Choose one, Jk. We don’t have all day.”

Jeongguk shuts his eyes tight. Breathes in. Nicotine. Breathes out.

When he opens them, Taehyung is still there, watching him. Like he is waiting for a particular answer. Jeongguk wonders what it is Taehyung wants to hear. “Let's start the session now, Taehyung-ssi?” Jeongguk asks finally, his tone steady in a way that surprises even him.

The decision has been made!

Taehyung silently looks at his face for a moment. There’s something unreadable in his eyes, disappointment, maybe, but he doesn’t say a word. He just nods and walks back toward the couch.

Jeongguk closes the window and turns to face him again, back to the distance that feels safer than closeness.

Kim Taehyung,  Twenty-five

Emotional detachment

Fear of attachment

Anxiety

And somewhere beneath all that, 

the man Jeongguk once loved.

Jeongguk’s person

✤

“Do I have to tell you my whole life or what?” Taehyung asks, sitting cross-legged on the couch, a hint of carelessness in his tone.

“No,” Jeongguk replies calmly. “You can start with whatever you feel like sharing.”

Taehyung glances at him, he really likes this version of Jeongguk. The professional one. All serious and focused. But he also likes the one with the dimpled smile and desperate, shiny eyes.

Does Jeongguk even know how pretty his eyes are when he’s like this?

“Really? Every other doctor always asks me to start from the beginning, when my problems started, what caused my fear of intimacy or attachment.”

“Then I’m not going to ask you to do that,” Jeongguk says gently. “Just talk about whatever you feel like talking about.”

Taehyung hums softly. “Then… I want to talk about my childhood friend.” He picks up a cushion and places it in his lap, fingers tracing the fabric.

He thought of a topic that didn’t mean anything, just to waste time.

“Okay.” Jeongguk leans back slightly, watching him with quiet attention.

“I was always an extroverted kid,” Taehyung begins, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I loved making friends. And then I met Sunwoo. God, he was a charmer. A manipulative bitch.” He lets out a laugh, light, but laced with bitterness.

Jeongguk doesn’t laugh. He only nods, eyes steady on Taehyung.

“That fucker made me do everything —his homework, helped him cheat on tests, even stole food for him from the canteen. I’d beg teachers to cancel exams, all because he asked me to.” Taehyung’s voice holds a mix of irritation and amusement. “But it’s not like I was scared of him or trying to please him. It was... thrilling, you know? A challenge. An adventure.”

“Adventure,” Jeongguk repeats, a faint hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Rebellious, excited kid.”

Taehyung nods, smiling back. “Yes, that’s what I was.”

“Then?” Jeongguk prompts softly.

“One day, I went to his house unannounced.” Taehyung exhales through a quiet laugh. “Which was a mistake, or maybe not. I heard him talking to his friends about me. Making fun of me. He called mehis “unpaid servant.’” Taehyung chuckles again, though it sounds hollow this time. “I remember I burst into the room, punched him straight in the face, and called him an asshole.”

“You felt betrayed,” Jeongguk says quietly, and Taehyung looks up at him, brows furrowing. “He broke your trust,” Jeongguk adds, voice calm.

“I never trusted him,” Taehyung snaps back. “I was having fun too. I just felt insulted. He hurt my ego.” His words come out fast, defensive.

‘How the hell did he get to the conclusion of my story?’

“You felt betrayed,” Jeongguk repeats.

Taehyung’s jaw tightens. “Have you ever been betrayed? Do you even know what it feels like?” His voice sharpens, irritation bleeding through. The air shifts, heavy, tense. The once-soft room feels darker now, as if the anger in his chest is slowly swallowing the light.

“No, maybe I don’t,” Jeongguk admits quietly. “But I understand—”

“Oh, please, cut the bullshit.” Taehyung’s voice sharpens like a knife. “I don’t get why you therapists or psychiatrists, whatever you guys are, think of yourselves as gods. You all understand everything, right? You have all the answers, all the knowledge.” His tone drips with bitterness.

Jeongguk doesn’t flinch. “If that’s how much you hate us -therapists- then why are you still here? Getting therapy?”

“Because I’m fucking tired.” His voice rises, cracks. “I’m tired of being sad, of being depressed. I’m tired of living with this fear of intimacy, or whatever bullshit I’m diagnosed with. I just want to be normal again!”

He doesn’t even realize when he starts yelling, chest heaving with uneven breaths.

Jeongguk’s tone remains steady. “What’s normal to you?”

The calmness only fuels Taehyung’s frustration. He wants to shake him, punch him, anything to get a reaction.

“Normal,” Taehyung spits out, “is when I can fall in love and actually accept someone who shows interest. Someone who begs me for a kiss.” He leans forward, eyes glinting. “You begged me to stay the night with you. I would have been normal, I would definitely have stayed and kissed you that night.”

A smirk curls on Taehyung’s lips when Jeongguk’s face changes, his composure slipping for the first time. His cheeks flush red. Taehyung can’t tell if it’s from anger or something else.

“And?” Jeongguk asks finally, voice lower now, tight, almost strained.

Taehyung makes a face, lips curling in mild annoyance. “I hate this space.”

Jeongguk raises a brow. “What?”

“I’m not talking to you if we’re gonna keep having sessions here.” Taehyung folds his arms and leans back against the couch, head tipping up.

“That’s the only quiet place we can talk,” Jeongguk says evenly.

“When did I say I wanted to talk in silence?” Taehyung shoots back. “It feels like a police interrogation. Like I’m here to confess a crime or something.”

“Then what do you want?” 

Taehyung looks at him, a teasing spark in his eyes. “Free advice —take your patients somewhere else. Places where you’d normally talk to your friends. They’ll tell you everything there.”

Jeongguk lets out a short smirk. “Really? Like where?”

“A bar, a café, a park…” Taehyung trails off before his lips curve into a grin. “Or maybe the rooftop of a nightclub.” He winks, catching the way Jeongguk’s expression falters, how his gaze flickers away.

Taehyung laughs softly. He really enjoys teasing Jeongguk.

“Sorry,” Jeongguk says after a pause, voice a little tighter. “We can only hold the session here.”

“Then I’m not gonna talk about anything,” Taehyung says, sounding almost proud of himself, before standing up.

“Where are you going?” Jeongguk’s tone slips, more desperate than he intends.

Taehyung smirks, eyes glinting. “I’m not spending the night here with you, Dr. Jeon.” He starts for the door, adding, “I’ll come back tomorrow.”

The door clicks shut behind him, leaving Jeongguk alone in the quiet room. He glances at the clock.

Fifteen minutes still left.

✤

Jeongguk has always known people can change in a heartbeat. He saw that change in Taehyung, his Tae. But why hasn’t he changed, even after seven months? His heart still sees Tae as his person. It still wants him. To Jeongguk, he’s still the most beautiful person in the world.

Can he ever change too?

But then again… does he even want to?

No.

He chooses time with Taehyung, not out of selfishness, but because he wants to help him heal. He wants to see the real Tae. The happy Tae. The one whose eyes don’t hide sadness behind every smile.

But who even is the real Tae?

Can sadness be real? Maybe sadness is the reality. Then what about happiness? Does it only exist so we can feel the pain of losing it? Or is it there to remind us that it exists somewhere, that you’re just not lucky enough to hold on to it?

Whatever it is, Jeongguk has made a promise to himself. He’ll fight it. He’ll dig out that happiness. If not for the both of them, then at least for Taehyung. He just wants to see light in his eyes.

Now, Jeongguk looks across the room at Taehyung, sitting in front of him. He’s been quiet for ten minutes straight. His eyes look swollen, maybe from a sleepless night, or maybe from crying.

Jeongguk sighs softly. “You’re not gonna say anything today either?”

Taehyung just blinks, his gaze distant. The silence between them feels heavy, but Jeongguk stays. Because that’s what he promised.

“You cried?” Jeongguk asks quietly.

Taehyung doesn’t reply.

“Your eyes are swollen and red,” he continues, then lets out a small, dry chuckle. “There was a time I loved red on you. But right now, I kind of hate it.”

Taehyung glances at him, then looks down again.

“I like red lips better than red eyes,” Jeongguk says.

Taehyung snorts but stays silent.

“I’m not flirting,” Jeongguk adds quickly.

Taehyung lifts a brow, still wordless.

“I don’t flirt with my patients. Strictly professional relationship.”

That earns him no response, just the quiet sound of Taehyung’s hand reaching for the vase on the table. He picks out a single red rose.

Jeongguk’s Tae flower.

He watches as Taehyung twirls it between his fingers, the soft petals brushing against his knuckles. Then, without warning, Taehyung plucks one petal off and puts it into his mouth.

“Ouch,” Jeongguk murmurs under his breath, almost as if he felt it himself.

Taehyung’s gaze flicks up.

“You’re so cruel,” Jeongguk says, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

Taehyung plucks another petal and chews it too.

Jeongguk shakes his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

He can’t look away. As Taehyung keeps chewing, Jeongguk wonders, if he keeps eating the petals, will his lips turn the color of roses? Will they taste like them too?

He looks away. He shouldn’t be thinking like that about his patient.

But about his Tae— maybe he can’t help it.

Taehyung suddenly stands up from the couch and walks over, settling himself on the armrest of Jeongguk’s chair. The distance between them disappears, and Jeongguk’s breath catches. He’s too close– close enough that Jeongguk feels his pulse quicken, his thoughts scattering.

Taehyung plucks a single petal from the rose and leans in. Jeongguk can’t move. He just looks at him with wide, unsteady eyes, lips parting slightly. When Taehyung brings the petal closer, Jeongguk instinctively sticks out his tongue.

The petal lands there softly. Taehyung’s fingertips brush his tongue, cold, gentle, and Jeongguk shivers.

Taehyung pulls his hand back and watches as Jeongguk chews. The petal is bitter, but faintly sweet.

So that’s what Taehyung tastes like, Jeongguk thinks.

Are they… kissing, in a way? Would Taehyung’s lips feel as soft as that petal?

Taehyung smiles, and Jeongguk forgets how to breathe. He should walk away before he loses his mind.

“Why aren’t you talking?” he manages to ask, voice low.

“I told you I won’t talk in this room,” Taehyung replies, standing up again and wandering around. He starts touching things on Jeongguk’s desk, flipping through files like he owns the place.

“Taehyung-ssi,” Jeongguk warns, “that’s not very professional.”

“I don’t care,” Taehyung says flatly, still moving around. “If you want me to talk, take me out.”

“I’m not taking you out,” Jeongguk says, shaking his head.

“It’s not a date, Dr. Jeon,” Taehyung adds with a small smirk.

Jeongguk looks away, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks, because that’s exactly what he thought it could be.

And maybe, deep down, that’s exactly what he wants.

“Just a doctor-patient outing,” Taehyung says casually, “talking about life traumas.”

He shrugs, playing it off like it’s nothing. “If you don’t want to, that’s fine. I’ll just find another doctor, someone who’ll take me somewhere nice…”

“Okay, let’s go.”

Jeongguk stands up so fast it startles even him. He grabs his coat, trying not to meet Taehyung’s eyes.

Taehyung smirks. “You’re so easy.”

“Where do you wanna go?” Jeongguk asks, slipping his phone, car keys, and wallet into his pocket.

“Strip club.”

Jeongguk freezes mid-step, turning to look at him. “Tae, be serious.”

“I’m dead serious,” Taehyung says, expression calm, almost blank. “Let’s go to a strip club.”

“I’m not taking you to a strip club to talk about your life struggles,” Jeongguk snaps, irritation bleeding into his voice. He’s tired of this teasing, tired of feeling like Taehyung can twist him around with just a few words.

“I met my ex-wife there.”

Everything inside Jeongguk stops. His steps. His breath. Maybe even his heartbeat.

Taehyung continues, voice low and steady. “I met her in a strip club and fell in love.”

No. Jeongguk wants to scream. He doesn’t even know why it hurts, but it does, like something inside him just cracked.

“Are you still in love?” he asks, his tone quieter now, but it’s the only thing that matters to his selfish heart.

Taehyung walks closer, his eyes unreadable. He leans in, voice brushing against Jeongguk’s skin.

“I’m incapable of love, Jeongguk. But maybe… we can go there to find out.”

Jeongguk doesn’t think twice. He turns toward the door, hand on the knob.

“Let’s go.”

And he hears the soft sound of Taehyung’s footsteps following behind.

✤

Taehyung knows he shouldn’t have brought Jeongguk here. It’s the wrong thing to do, unprofessional, reckless. But if he wants to end his problems where they began, then this is the only place that makes sense.

“I saw her here,” Taehyung says quietly, eyes fixed on the stage where a few male dancers now move around the poles under soft red lights. “She was dancing… and I was mesmerized. I forgot to breathe. She looked like sin itself, wearing the face of an angel. ”

He lets out a faint, bitter laugh. “Jeongguk, I lost my heart, my whole self, to her that day.”

Jeongguk listens silently, but every word cuts through him, because that’s exactly how he felt when he first saw Taehyung. The same kind of helpless, breath-stealing awe.

“Of course, I had money,” Taehyung continues, his voice steady but distant. “So I threw it at her. Booked a private dance. And I got it. She performed three nights a week, and I went to every single one of them, always booked her after.”

His gaze softens as the memory unfolds. “At first, it was just private lap dances… then it got more intense. Making out. Then more than that.”

Jeongguk’s jaw tightens but he doesn’t say anything.

“One day, I asked her to come home with me,” Taehyung says, his tone almost nostalgic. “And she did. One night turned into two. Then more.”

He pauses, exhaling a long, shaky breath. For the first time in a while, his words feel lighter, freer.

“We got serious, or maybe it was just me. I didn’t even realize how deep I was until everything revolved around her. I did whatever she asked. Bought her a car so she could travel easily. Gave her my credit card so she could buy pretty dresses and things she liked. My house became hers.”

He smiles faintly, the kind that doesn’t reach his eyes. “And I was happy. Just because I had her.”

Jeongguk’s heart aches as he listens, because he knows that feeling too well. The kind of love that devours you, piece by piece, until all that’s left is the person you loved.

Jeongguk only nods. For the first time in his life, he hates his job. He doesn’t want to listen, not to this part, not to where  it’s leading.

“And then,” Taehyung says softly, a bitter smile forming, “I asked her to marry me.”

He’s about to continue when a woman, one of the strippers, walks over and places her hand on Taehyung’s shoulder. “Want me to dance for you, pretty?” she purrs.

Taehyung freezes. His entire body goes stiff.

“No thanks, you can go,” Jeongguk says quickly, his voice firm.

The woman turns to him instead, eyes fluttering. “I can dance for you too, handsome.” She leans in, close enough for Jeongguk to smell her perfume. He shifts back immediately, uncomfortable.

“Leave, please leave.” Taehyung says sharply, but she only smirks and bends closer to his ear.

“You can meet me in the back room too,” she whispers, voice thick with sultry sweetness. “You look tense. I can help you relax.”

Her hand slides down toward his thigh. Taehyung jerks away like he’s been burned, standing up so fast the chair screeches against the floor. The woman steps back, startled.

“Jeongguk, let’s go,” Taehyung mutters, his voice trembling slightly before he almost runs toward the exit.

Jeongguk stands too, tossing a few bills on the table even though they hadn’t ordered a single drink or service. The woman snatches the money quickly, tucking it into her bra as Jeongguk follows Taehyung out. He runs out into the street, heart pounding. But Taehyung is nowhere to be seen

“Taehyung!” he calls, voice echoing off the empty walls. No answer.

“Tae! Where are you?” He turns in every direction, panic crawling up his chest, until he hears it. The sharp sound of coughing, followed by a choked gag from somewhere nearby.

Jeongguk sprints toward the alleyway. “Tae, oh my god.”

Taehyung is hunched over, body trembling as he throws up onto the pavement. Jeongguk drops beside him instantly, his hand rubbing slow circles on Taehyung’s back.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he whispers, steady and soft, though his own hands are shaking.

Taehyung lets out another harsh gag before his body finally gives up. He coughs a few times, breath ragged, then slumps down against the wall, exhausted.

Jeongguk lowers himself to the ground beside him and gently wraps an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in.

Taehyung leans his head against Jeongguk’s chest, eyes half-closed, chest heaving. Then, with a bitter little chuckle, he exhales. “I’m messed up,” he mutters, voice barely there.

“No, you’re not,” Jeongguk says softly, brushing Taehyung’s damp hair away from his forehead. His skin glistens with sweat, his lashes heavy, his expression calm, almost peaceful, like he’s drifting somewhere far away. For a second, Jeongguk thinks he’s fallen asleep, but then he sees the faint curve of a smile.

“I don’t think any doctor would sit in a dirty alley,” Taehyung murmurs, eyes fluttering open to meet his, “holding their patient who just puked. That’s not very professional, Dr. Jeon.”

Jeongguk feels heat rush to his face. He wants to disappear. Because Taehyung’s right, it’s not professional at all. Not even close.

“It’s humanity,” Jeongguk says quietly after a pause, his voice steadier than he feels. “Come on, let’s go. It’s gonna get dark soon.”

But Taehyung only shakes his head, refusing to move. He keeps looking at Jeongguk with those unreadable eyes, and Jeongguk finds himself staring back. It’s hard not to.

Have you ever seen Kim Taehyung? If you look at him once, it’s impossible to look away. You get caught mesmerized by the quiet grace of his face, by the sadness that makes him even more beautiful. You start searching for flaws just to break free, to convince yourself he’s human after all. But when you find one, you stop again, because even his flaws are beautiful.

“You’re staring,” Taehyung says with a teasing smile.

“You’re beautiful,” Jeongguk whispers, so softly it almost disappears into the air, but Taehyung hears it. His smile deepens, though the sadness in his eyes only grows heavier.

He sits up and gently pulls away from Jeongguk’s hold. “You’re right. It’s getting late.”

He stands, brushing the dirt off his pants, and Jeongguk rises too, still watching him.

“Do you want water? anything?” Jeongguk asks quietly.

Taehyung shakes his head. “No, thank you. I’ll just take a cab home.”

Jeongguk wants to stop him. Every part of him wants to ask him to stay, to just sit a little longer, breathe a little more, but there’s no excuse good enough. No reason a doctor should keep his patient outside their session.

Taehyung steps closer instead, and before Jeongguk can even process it, he leans in and presses a soft kiss to Jeongguk’s cheek. His lips are cold, damp against Jeongguk’s warm skin.

“Goodbye, Dr. Jeon,” Taehyung murmurs. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Jeongguk freezes, his breath caught somewhere between shock and longing.

Taehyung turns and walks away, steady, silent, not once looking back. Jeongguk watches him until he reaches the road, stops a taxi, and disappears inside. The car pulls away, tail lights fading into the distance.

He doesn’t look back once.

Maybe because he knows —those who look back turn to stone.

And Taehyung isn’t ready to become one.

✤

“Why are we here? And at night?” Jeongguk asks, walking beside Taehyung along the Han River.

Taehyung keeps his eyes ahead, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Have you ever seen how beautiful the water looks at night? You can’t really see it when there’s no moon or stars. It only shows itself when the moon shines on it, reflecting. That’s why the water fell in love with the moon, it waits every night for it to appear, and when it does, it dances for it.” He pauses, eyes lingering on the river’s glimmering surface. “Take me to the sea someday.”

Jeongguk turns to him, surprised. “You want me to take you to Busan?”

“That’s where the sea is?”

“Yeah.”

“Then take me there, one day.” Taehyung says simply.

“Okay.”

Taehyung points toward a nearby bench. “Come, let’s sit here.”

They sit side by side, and the quiet settles around them. The river hums softly, the city lights ripple on its surface. Jeongguk feels the warmth of Taehyung’s body beside him, and suddenly, the night doesn’t feel cold anymore.

“What happened with your wife?” Jeongguk asks. Even though he wants to bury the thought of someone else ever being in Taehyung’s life, he still has to ask, as his doctor, at least.

Taehyung sighs, like he doesn’t want to talk about it but knows he has to. “We were so happy. Or maybe every man in love feels like that, like it’s the best time of your life when you’re with the person you love. I was on cloud nine. I don’t even remember how time passed.,. The honeymoon phase, you know? Then her break ended, and she had to go back to work. That’s when I realized... she was mine now, and I didn’t want her to go back to working as a stripper.”

He pauses, the bitterness still sitting heavy in his voice.

“And did you tell her that?” Jeongguk asks quietly.

“No.” Taehyung exhales, eyes distant. “I got scared. You know, Jeongguk, when you’re afraid that the other person might leave just because you asked for something, that’s when you should understand it’s only you who’s really in love. A love so selfish, so desperate, it loses all self-respect just to stay silent and not lose them.”

He turns to look at Jeongguk, eyes tired but honest. “It’s wrong. Don’t ever love like that. Only if it’s mutual, only if it’s equal, then let it grow. But never throw your self-respect away for it.”

Jeongguk only nods, because how could he tell Taehyung that he’s already living that kind of love? The kind that strips you of everything, your pride, your self-respect, your reason. He’s ready to give up his ego, his career, even his own breath, if Taehyung just moved a finger. He doesn’t even know when it started, maybe from the very first moment he saw him.

“I tried to tell her,” Taehyung continues quietly, “that she didn’t need to work anymore. She laughed and said I was seeing her as the kind of woman who’d just stay home, cook, and clean. She had ambitions, goals, she wanted to live her life her own way. And I only nodded. I didn’t say a word. She kept working, coming home late. And whenever she did, I made her meals, took care of her. Every week, I transferred money to her account, because she said it was her right. But sometimes, I felt like I was paying her to stay my wife.”

He exhales shakily. “I knew if I stopped one day, she’d ask for a divorce. And I wasn’t ready, Gguk. So I kept paying. Kept playing the perfect husband she wanted.

Jeongguk sighs. “It was wrong.”

“I know,” Taehyung says, his voice low. “But I don’t know why I became like that.”

“You were scared she’d leave you,” Jeongguk says softly. “It’s because it’s happened so many times before now, whenever you care about someone, you hold on too tightly, that you start losing yourself in the process. You didn’t ignore everything because your love for her was too much. It was because your fear of being left alone was.”

Taehyung nods slowly. “True. But I’m not scared anymore. I think I’ve gotten so used to being alone that it doesn’t bother me now.”

Jeongguk shakes his head. “No, Tae. No one ever really gets used to being alone. We all still have nights when we wish someone was there beside us, or moments we want to share a meal, talk, laugh, watch a movie, dance. I don’t know, but I’m sure you have those moments too.”

Taehyung looks at him, a small, amused smile playing on his lips.

“What?” Jeongguk asks, pausing. “Why are you staring?”

“You’re a good therapist,” Taehyung says lightly. “No wonder you’re so famous.”

Jeongguk rolls his eyes. “Please don’t start—”

“It’s kind of turning me on, though,” Taehyung interrupts, smirking. “You talk all deep like that, it’s sexy.”

“Oh, God.” Jeongguk groans, hiding his face with his hand. “Shut up.”

“You’re cute,” Taehyung teases, reaching out to flick his chin.

“I know what you’re doing, Taehyung-ssi.”

Taehyung tilts his head, leaning a little closer. “What am I doing?”

“You’re trying to distract me so you won’t have to talk about the important things. You keep pushing the topic away,” Jeongguk says calmly, though his voice trembles near the end. “Why? You have to talk, Taehyung. That’s the only way you’ll get better.”

“Wow,” Taehyung says with a low chuckle, leaning even closer until Jeongguk can feel his breath ghosting over his lips. “You’re so smart.”

Jeongguk’s pulse jumps. He doesn’t even know when Taehyung got this close– close enough to blur the air between them.

“Are you playing with me?” Jeongguk asks, his gaze locked on Taehyung’s.

Taehyung smirks. “Are you my toy?”

Jeongguk wants to say yes, that he wouldn’t mind being that, just for him.

“Tae.”

“Gug,” Taehyung murmurs, then slowly drags his tongue across Jeongguk’s lips. Jeongguk jerks back instinctively, but there’s nowhere to go, the bench behind him is too small.

“Don’t,” he breathes.

“Why?” Taehyung asks softly, eyes searching his.

“It’s wrong.”

“Why?”

“We can’t. I’m your therapist. We’re not allowed to.”

Taehyung blinks, his voice turning small. “Guk.”

“Hmm?”

“Please.”

Ah, Jeongguk wants to scream. He wants to throw every rule away and just kiss him, kiss him until the world disappears. His heart hammers as he stares at Taehyung’s face, losing himself in those eyes that make him forget who he is.

“No,” he finally whispers.

Taehyung pulls back, frowning like he’s genuinely offended. It’s almost cute.

Taehyung leans down, capturing Jeongguk’s bottom lip between his teeth, tugging with just enough force to spark a sharp sting. The sensation zips down Jeongguk’s spine, pooling hot and heavy between his legs. A raw groan escapes him, loud and unfiltered.

When Taehyung pulls back, Jeongguk hisses, his lip throbbing. He brushes the pad of his finger against it, feeling the slick warmth of blood. His fingertip comes away red, gleaming under the light.

But damn he's so turned on it’s dizzying.

His gaze locks onto Taehyung, eyes dark with want. Taehyung stares back, a flicker of worry in his wide eyes, but a sly smile tugs at his lips, betraying his confidence.

Jeongguk wipes the blood from his thumb, then presses it against Taehyung’s mouth, letting it rest on his tongue. “Clean it up,” he orders, voice low and commanding, dripping with authority.

Taehyung lets out a soft, needy moan, closing his lips around Jeongguk’s thumb and starts sucking. It’s messy. Spit trails down Jeongguk’s hand, dripping onto Taehyung’s chin, and the sight sends a jolt of heat through him. He feels like he’s about to combust.

With a low chuckle, Jeongguk pulls his thumb free. “You’re such a mess,” he teases, fishing a handkerchief from his pocket. He gently wipes Taehyung’s chin, then his own hand, his eyes never leaving Taehyung’s face. Taehyung pouts, sulky and adorable.

“Not gonna kiss you, Tae,” Jeongguk says, voice firm but playful.

Taehyung’s pout deepens. “Where’s my JK?”

Jeongguk smirks. “You told him to pick a side.”

Taehyung’s eyes sparkle with mischief. “I like him better.”

“Oh yeah?” Jeongguk tilts his head, leaning closer. “What, ‘cause he begs for your kisses?”

Taehyung’s cheeks flush, but he grins, caught. “So you’re getting revenge, huh?”

“No, Taehyung. Maybe you don’t realize it, but we’re not allowed to be in any kind of relationship other than doctor and patient. It could cost me my license.”

Taehyung raises his brows. “License for driving?”

Jeongguk sighs. “No, silly. My license to practice as a therapist.”

“Oh, really?” Taehyung huffs, crossing his arms.

“Yeah. I could even go to jail for three years.”

Taehyung’s expression shifts, genuine worry flashing across his face. “No way, you’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

He goes quiet for a moment, thinking. “So… what’s the solution then?”

“No breaking the rules,” Jeongguk says softly. “Or… we wait. Until your therapy sessions end.”

Taehyung hums. “And when will that be?”

“When you’ve let go of all your pain,” Jeongguk explains, his tone careful, “and you feel ready to start something new, without the weight of what hurt you.”

Taehyung nods slowly. “There’s only one thing left. But I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

“That’s fine,” Jeongguk assures him. “You have time, however much you need.”

Taehyung gives him a faint smile. “I’m creating problems for you.”

“No, you’re not,” Jeongguk says, shaking his head. Then, almost without thinking, he takes Taehyung’s hands. “I’m not going to say anything inappropriate, but… I’m here. And I’d give up everything if I had to.”

Taehyung’s smile fades. “Didn’t I just tell you not to sacrifice yourself for someone?”

“You’re worth every sacrifice,” Jeongguk murmurs.

“I’m not,” Taehyung says firmly as he stands. “I don’t want you to do something stupid. And I definitely don’t want you going to jail because of me.”

“Okay,” Jeongguk breathes. “But… where are you going?”

“It’s late,” Taehyung says quietly. “Session time’s over. Go home.”

Jeongguk exhales, standing up too. “You could come to mine. Just to sleep. Nothing else.”

Taehyung glances back, a soft smile playing on his lips. “No, thank you.”

And with that, he turns and walks away, leaving Jeongguk standing there under the dim glow of the moonlight, watching him disappear into the night.

✤

“Where are we even going? I’m so sleepy,” Jeongguk mumbles, rubbing his eyes. “We shouldn’t be out here anyway. It’s not allowed with a patient, you’re not taking your therapy seriously.”

He’s holding Taehyung’s hand as they walk through the trees, climbing higher up the mountain path. The dawn breeze is cold against his face, but Taehyung’s fingers are warm and firm around his.

Jeongguk had been asleep when Taehyung called, asking him to come to Haneul Park to see the sunrise. And, as always, he didn’t think twice before agreeing. Sometimes he feels like if Taehyung asked him to jump off a mountain, he might actually do it. Is that what love does to people? Makes them this stupid, this helpless?

A psychologist who spends his days helping others untangle their hearts, and here he is, completely lost in his own. Who would help him with his questions?

“I’m not a kid,” Taehyung says, still dragging him forward.

“You feel like one,” Jeongguk replies, half teasing.

“Just because I’m younger doesn’t make me a kid.” Taehyung shoots him a look, offended.

Jeongguk can’t help but smile. “Okay, my bad.”

They finally reach the spot, a wide, open view stretching over the city skyline, the Han River glimmering faintly below, and Namsan Tower standing tall in the distance. It’s breathtaking.

But not more beautiful than Taehyung.

Jeongguk turns his head, trying to see his face, but the sky is still dim. He finds himself wishing for the sun to rise faster, just so he can see Taehyung clearly, bathed in light.

“Sit,” Taehyung says simply, lowering himself to the ground. Jeongguk follows, sitting beside him. The earth is cold, the air chilled, but somehow it feels good.

“The sunrise looks beautiful from here,” Taehyung murmurs after a long stretch of silence, eyes fixed on the horizon. “I used to come here a lot after the divorce. I needed a quiet place. Somewhere no one would ask questions.”

Jeongguk doesn’t say anything. He never does when Taehyung starts talking like this. Their therapy sessions rarely happen in a room—Taehyung prefers places like this, where his words drift out like confessions to a friend instead of a doctor.

Jeongguk has never met anyone like him before. Maybe that’s why it’s so easy to fall, or to get obsessed.

“Why did you get divorced?” Jeongguk finally asks when the silence starts to feel too long.

Taehyung stays quiet for a moment.

“You don’t want to talk about it?” Jeongguk’s voice softens.

“I do,” Taehyung says quietly. “I just… never have before. So it’s hard. But I want to let it out.”

Jeongguk shifts closer, just a little, enough for Taehyung to feel it. He wants him to know he’s there. Not as a doctor. But as a friend.

“Our fights started because of her job,” Taehyung begins quietly. “At first, it was small things, her not replying to my texts, coming home too late, not answering calls, spending too much money. But I kept ignoring it, and kept trying to hold our marriage together. I was stupid. I should’ve seen it falling apart, but I didn’t want to give up.”

He exhales shakily, eyes fixed on the city lights below. “Then it got worse. She started coming home with… hickeys. When I asked her about it, she said it happened during her personal performances, that sometimes clients get a little too clingy and drunk.” His voice cracks with a bitter laugh. “God, Guk, I knew she was lying. We fought about it, a lot. But even then, I tried. I planned a trip abroad, hoping it would help. I thought maybe if we just spent time together, she’d remember what we had and what our future could be. And for a while… It worked. She came home on time, talked to me, smiled again. It felt like things were getting better.”

Jeongguk gently pats his hand. Taehyung’s shoulders are tense now, his expression somewhere between sadness and exhaustion. Jeongguk doesn’t know if he should say something or stay silent.

“It was so good, Jeongguk,” Taehyung continues, his voice trembling slightly. “When I think about it, I was really happy that time.” He lets out a hollow chuckle. “Just a little peace before the worst nightmare.”

Jeongguk notices the way Taehyung’s body starts to shake. Panic, maybe. Or memories catching up too fast.

“Tae,” he says softly, “it’s okay. We can stop here, talk later.”

“No,” Taehyung shakes his head, eyes glistening. “Please, let me say it now. I’m tired of talking to myself, Guk. I’ve spent years holding this in. I want to let it out.”

“Okay, okay,” Jeongguk murmurs, his tone gentle. “I’m here. I’ll listen. But just breathe for me, yeah?”

He takes Taehyung’s hand, squeezing it firmly. Taehyung nods, inhales deeply a few times, and when he finally speaks again, his voice is quieter, but steadier.

“After about a month, she… she came to me,” Taehyung says, his voice catching. He swallows hard, maybe against the tears rising in his throat. “She told me she’d missed her period, so she took a pregnancy test.”

Jeongguk feels his heart tighten, but he pushes the feeling down. This isn’t about him. Not now.

“And… it was positive.”

A single tear falls from Taehyung’s cheek, landing right on their clasped hands.

“I was so happy, Jeongguk,” he whispers, voice trembling. “When she told me, I–God, I can’t even explain it. It felt like I was flying. Like I was the happiest, luckiest man in the world. That moment, I realized how much I wanted a child. My child. My own blood.” He lets out a broken laugh, soft and bitter.

“I hugged her, told her how happy I was, how much I loved her, how I’d take good care of her. She didn’t say much. But I was too lost in my own excitement to notice.” Taehyung wipes at his cheeks with the back of his hand. “I was stupid. I rushed everything. The next day, I went out and bought baby clothes, toys, all kinds of baby stuff. She didn’t seem interested, but I thought maybe she was just scared or overwhelmed.”

Jeongguk already knows where this is heading. His chest tightens painfully, but he stays quiet. This is something Taehyung needs to release, no matter how much it hurts to hear.

“Then she went to work,” Taehyung continues, voice faltering. “Even though I told her to rest, she wouldn’t listen. I didn’t want to argue, so I let her go. And then, after a week, she came back and…”

His voice cuts off. The words get stuck somewhere between his throat and his heart, and his breathing turns uneven, shallow.

“Tae,” Jeongguk whispers quickly, turning toward him. “Hey, it’s okay. Calm down. Breathe.”

He rubs Taehyung’s back gently, slow circles over his trembling shoulders, staying close enough for him to feel that he’s not alone.

“She said she wanted to abort,” Taehyung chokes out, his voice breaking into sobs. “My kid, Guk… she said she wanted to kill our kid. My child.”

Now he’s crying openly, his body trembling as the words leave him like something that’s been buried too long.

“Tae, please…,” Jeongguk says, panic rising in his chest. “Calm down first. Just… breathe.” His throat tightens, seeing Taehyung like this, so shattered, so small–feels unbearable.

This is exactly why they say not to get attached to your patients. moments like this make it impossible to think like a doctor. His heart takes over, drowning out every shred of reason.

“She told me she didn’t want a kid,” Taehyung continues through his tears. “Said she was going to abort. She wanted me to go to the hospital with her, like it was my right to know and watch her kill my kid. But my right was to see my baby, to hold them, to watch them grow. Not… not this.” His voice breaks again, raw and ragged. “She wanted me there while they killed my child. How could I do that?”

“Tae… baby, please,” Jeongguk whispers, his own eyes burning now.

“She–she killed my child, Jeongguk,” Taehyung cries, clutching at his chest. “I begged her not to. I told her I’d take responsibility, that I’d raise the baby alone. I said she could leave, I’d give her anything she wanted, just not this. But she didn’t listen. She didn’t care about me, or my child. She went ahead and did it. She got the abortion.”

His words dissolve into sobs. “Why, Guk? Just because she didn’t want a life inside her. God, if I could, I’d have carried that baby myself. I would’ve given birth, raised them, loved them. But it was her body, her choice… and she chose her career over my child.”

Jeongguk doesn’t think anymore. He just moves closer and wraps his arms around Taehyung, holding him tightly. Taehyung trembles in his arms, his tears soaking into Jeongguk’s shoulder.

Jeongguk’s heart aches so fiercely it feels like it might crack open. All he can do is hold him, because there are no right words for this kind of pain.

“I lost my kid, Jeongguk,” Taehyung whispers, his voice breaking completely. “I don’t even know if it was a boy or a girl. I just… wanted them so badly. I was so happy, God, I was so happy to become a father. I’ve never felt anything like that before.”

“The moment she told me, I started dreaming about everything. I thought about buying a bigger house so my child would have space to grow up. I planned how I’d decorate their nursery, how I’d take them to school, buy them everything they ever asked for. I imagined what they’d call me… how it’d feel to hold them in my arms for the first time.” His voice cracks again. “Jeongguk, I thought about all of it. And she took that away from me.”

Jeongguk doesn’t move. He just holds him tighter, burying his face in Taehyung’s shoulder, his own heart aching in silence.

“What was my mistake?” Taehyung asks through tears, his voice trembling. “That I couldn’t carry the baby inside me? Does that make it any less mine? It was still my child. But she said no, it was her body, her choice. What about me, Jeongguk? What about my heart? My feelings? My happiness?” He chokes on a sob. “I didn’t want anything else. Just my child. She took that from me. She ruined me.”

His words are sharp, raw, every syllable soaked in grief. “She broke me so completely that now I’m scared of happiness. I’m scared of people, of love. I can’t trust anyone anymore. Whenever someone gets close, I panic, because I don’t know what kind of scar they’ll leave this time. I’m not brave enough for that  pain again. I’m so tired.”

Jeongguk tightens his hold around him, voice shaking as he speaks. “I know. I know, Tae. It’s okay. You’re right. You deserve happiness, you deserve love. What she did was wrong. She hurt you, betrayed you. She didn’t have the right to take that choice away from you. I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

Taehyung sniffs, his breathing uneven. “I hate her, Jeongguk. I hate her so much. When she came back after the abortion, maybe a week later, I couldn’t even look at her. People say you should forgive, that it’s not a reason to hate someone, but I couldn’t. Every time I saw her face, I remembered that she killed my child.”

He takes a shaky breath, staring at the horizon where the sky has started to pale. “I still tried, you know? Even then, I tried to make it work. But she ignored me. Lived her life like nothing happened, like it was just another day. Everything was fine for her, but nothing was the same for me. Nothing.”

His voice turns flat, distant. “One day she came to ask me for more money. And that was it. That was the moment I decided I couldn’t do it anymore. I told her it was over. I filed for divorce.”

Jeongguk nods, his thumb brushing over Taehyung’s knuckles. “You did good,” he says softly. “You did what you had to do.”

“She… she walked away without a second thought,” Taehyung says, his voice trembling. “She looked happy, even. No regret. She just called me a stupid, over-emotional man.” His breath shudders. “And maybe she was right. I was stupid. I was overemotional. But was it really too much to ask for? Just my own child, my own happiness?”

“No,” Jeongguk says softly. “It wasn’t too much. You had every right to want that. Your emotions were valid, Tae. It doesn’t matter that she was the one carrying the baby, it was your child too.”

Taehyung lets out a weak, broken laugh, shaking his head. “I don’t know why people always think a baby’s pain or joy only belongs to the mother. Why do they act like the father doesn’t feel anything? We may not grow the baby inside us, but it changes us too. It makes you want to do everything, be better, work harder, protect them.” His lips tremble. “I was sad that I couldn’t do much while she was pregnant, so I promised myself I’d give them the best life after birth. But she took that away. And I hate her for that. I’ll never forgive her. I can’t trust anyone anymore, not with my heart, not with my happiness.”

“You have every right to feel that way,” Jeongguk says gently, brushing his thumb over Taehyung’s hand. “Of course you lost your trust. Anyone would. But Tae… not everyone is like her. Not everyone’s going to leave you broken or take your happiness away.”

Taehyung shakes his head, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know. But I’m scared. I’m not brave like that, Jeongguk. Sometimes it feels easier to just end it, end myself, than to believe in anyone again.”

Jeongguk’s chest tightens painfully. “Don't say that. It’s okay to be scared,” he murmurs. “Life’s a risk, Tae. It always will be. I’m not saying you should trust everyone, or let people in blindly. Don’t. But you also can’t shut yourself away forever. You deserve love, friends, warmth. You deserve to be happy again. You just… have to give yourself the chance. One day you’ll find someone good, someone gentle. You’ll have a family again, a good wife, a baby, a life that feels safe.”

He forces the words out even as they tear at him. Only Jeongguk knows how much it hurts to say them, to push Taehyung toward someone else, when all he wants is to be that person himself. But right now, Taehyung’s healing matters more than his own heart.

Taehyung sniffles, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “I don’t want to get married again,” he says quietly. “I don’t want a wife. I don’t think I can ever trust a woman now. But…” He exhales shakily. “I know I can’t have a child without one.”

“I swear to God, if I could conceive, I would give birth to your baby,” Jeongguk says, and the honesty and innocence in his voice makes Taehyung laugh, soft, melodic. The most beautiful sound.

“You’re so cute,” Taehyung murmurs.

“I’m not lying,” Jeongguk insists.

“I know.” Taehyung smiles faintly. “I believe you.”

Jeongguk takes a shaky breath. “I know it’s not the right time. You probably think I’m being reckless. And I know, I am your therapist.” His words tumble out faster now. “But I’m tearing that contract apart. I don’t want to be your doctor anymore. I just want you. Kim Taehyung, marry me.  I’ll give you everything you ever asked for, happiness, life, a kid. Just say yes to me.”

He cups Taehyung’s face as he speaks, “Not now, but in future, when the time is right, I’ll marry you.” His voice trembling between desperation and hope. And before he can even finish breathing, Taehyung pulls him closer and captures his lips in a kiss.

The sun rises at that exact moment, spilling light across the skyline, bright and golden. But neither of them sees it. The only thing they feel is the kiss — the warmth, the trembling lips, the taste of tears.

The kiss is slow but burning. Taehyung’s lip's part against his, soft and hungry, and Jeongguk’s hand slides to the back of his neck, deepening it, tasting the ache he’s carried for too long.

He didn’t know he’d been this thirsty for so long, until now. Until Taehyung.

When Taehyung’s hand comes up to Jeongguk’s chest, he pulls back, breathing unsteady. Jeongguk leans forward instinctively, chasing his lips, unwilling to let go.

But Taehyung presses a hand to his mouth. “No, Guk. Wait.”

Jeongguk closes his eyes, breathing hard, trying to calm the storm inside him.

“I can’t,” Taehyung whispers. “We shouldn’t. I’m not in the right state of mind, and neither are you.”

“Tae—” Jeongguk begins, but Taehyung cuts him off.

“No. Let’s… go home. I’ll come to your office tomorrow.”

“Tae, I love you.” The words come out low, raw. He means them. It’s not a confession; it’s the truth he’s lived with for too long.

Taehyung’s sigh shakes in his throat. He looks torn, fragile. Then he leans in and presses a soft peck to Jeongguk’s lips. “Let’s meet tomorrow.”

Jeongguk nods silently.

“I don’t want to… sorry Guk, I—” Taehyung stops himself and stands, but his balance falters. Jeongguk immediately reaches out, steadying him.

“My legs are shaking,” Taehyung murmurs. “And my vision’s a little dark.”

“It’s okay,” Jeongguk says gently. “You just need rest.”

“Yeah.” Taehyung nods. “I’ll go home and rest.”

“Can I come with you? You shouldn’t be alone,” 

“No. I want to be alone. Don’t worry.” He pats Jeongguk’s cheek, smiling faintly. “Don’t worry too much, Hyung. I’m fine.”

Jeongguk smiles, because it’s the first time Taehyung calls him Hyung.

He still holds Taehyung’s hand as they walk toward their cars. Taehyung drives off first, and Jeongguk stays there for a moment, watching the car disappear before heading home.

Neither of them talks about how they missed the sunrise.

✤

The next day, Taehyung goes to Jeongguk’s office. It’s been a while since he’s come here. Lately? Jeongguk’s been the one tagging along with him instead. He doesn’t really know why he prefers it that way; maybe because being outside with Jeongguk feels easier. With his previous therapists, he was always stuck in a small room, trying to talk, trying to explain himself until it felt mechanical. But with Jeongguk… it never feels forced. He’s just glad Jeongguk agreed to go places with him.

He knows the reason though. He’s not stupid. He knows Jeongguk is falling for him, and if he’s being honest, he’s falling for Jeongguk too, without even trying. After years of being closed off, it’s almost frightening how natural it feels. There’s a charm in Jeongguk, something gentle, something calm. He’s way older, but Taehyung doesn’t care. Sometimes it doesn’t even feel like Jeongguk is the older one. He lets Taehyung take the upper hand, makes him feel like he’s the one in control. Around him, Taehyung doesn’t have to hide. He can be weird, moody, even a little broken, and Jeongguk still looks at him like he’s someone worth staying for.

That’s why it’s so easy to lose himself with Jeongguk. Maybe it was never about being emotionally unavailable; maybe he just never met the right person. But now that he has, everything feels too easy, too real.

Still, Taehyung knows he has to talk to him. They need to decide what to do, because this, whatever it is, can’t go on like this. He doesn’t want anything bad to happen to Jeongguk. Not to his career, and not to his heart.

He just wants to keep his Hyung safe.

When Taehyung walks into the room, Jeongguk is sitting in his chair, flipping through a stack of files. He’s wearing glasses, something Taehyung rarely sees him in— and the sight makes his chest feel strangely giddy. Because he looks cute. Beautiful.

Taehyung smiles and clears his throat softly. Jeongguk looks up immediately, and the way his whole face lights up makes Taehyung’s heart flutter. He stands, walks over, quietly shuts the door behind Taehyung, and pulls him into a warm hug.

“I love you,” Jeongguk says against his shoulder.

Taehyung chuckles, leaning back just enough to look at him. “Really? That’s a new way to greet your patient.”

“I love you,” Jeongguk repeats, firmer this time.

And Taehyung won’t lie, it feels like something blooming quietly inside his chest. He pulls back slightly, presses a soft kiss to Jeongguk’s forehead, and whispers, “I’ll say it after our sessions, okay?”

Jeongguk nods, exhales like he’s been holding his breath too long. “Are you feeling better today?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung smiles faintly. “It’s surprising, but I actually slept like a baby.”

“Good.” Jeongguk smiles, gesturing toward the couch. “Go sit down, I’ll be right there.”

Taehyung nods and settles on the couch, sitting cross-legged, waiting.

Jeongguk picks up his diary, walks over, and takes his usual seat across from him.

“Glasses look really cute on you, Dr. Jeon,” Taehyung says with a teasing grin.

Jeongguk visibly blushes but manages a small nod. “Thank you, Taehyung-ssi. You’re quite pretty yourself. Now, can we start the session?”

Taehyung exhales. “Sure. But honestly, I’ve already told you everything. There’s nothing left.”

Jeongguk hums thoughtfully, flipping open his notes. “Yesterday, I was thinking about your case,” he says slowly. “And I realized something’s missing.”

Taehyung frowns slightly. “What?”

“You started your story when you met her,” Jeongguk says, voice calm but intent. “But that wasn’t really your beginning. Meeting her, or marrying her, that was the result of something. You fell in love and rushed into marriage within months, and then you kept fighting so desperately to hold onto it. There’s something behind that. A reason.”

Taehyung swallows hard, 

“What did it came from?” Jeongguk asks gently, leaning forward a little. “What you told me before, it made me think, you were working too hard to save the marriage. Like you were terrified she’d leave you. But why? It couldn’t have been just because you loved her.”

Taehyung nods slowly. “Maybe it’s because of my parents’ broken marriage. Or my sister’s failed relationships.”

Jeongguk hums, thoughtful. “So, it made you believe you had to work harder, to not end up like them?”

“You can say that” Taehyung murmurs. “My parents divorced and got busy with their new families. My sister and I were kind of left behind. We tried to be there for each other, but then she met a guy and moved in with him. It was messy, constant fights, breakups, and she kept coming back home. Then there were other relationships that ended the same way. It left me thinking that maybe relationships just… don’t work. Commitments or not.”

“Or maybe,” Jeongguk says softly, “they just didn’t handle things well. And because of that, you became too hard on yourself. You promised you wouldn’t fail like them. But Tae… you were too young. I don’t think you were even at an age to get married.”

Taehyung’s voice drops to a whisper. “I was alone. I just wanted someone.”

“I understand,” Jeongguk says quietly. “But don’t you think it was rushed from the start? You were too obsessed, too determined to keep the relationship safe. It feels like you weren’t really trying to live or enjoy it, you were trying to win the challenge you gave yourself.”

Taehyung looks down. “Maybe. But it felt like that was my life. My marriage.”

Jeongguk shakes his head gently. “It wasn’t, Tae. You are your life. It’s okay to have a failed relationship, but don’t fail yourself. It didn’t end well, I know, and I’m sorry. But trust me, it happened for the best.”

Taehyung only nods, eyes distant.

“One failed marriage doesn’t mean every relationship will end the same way,” Jeongguk continues, his tone calm but warm. “I know that after all this, you started losing trust… losing faith in a good future. Even the thought of giving someone another chance scares you.”

Taehyung nods again, almost helplessly. Because he’s right. 

“It’s because you believe it’s going to happen again,” Jeongguk says softly. “That no matter what you do, it’ll still end badly.”

Taehyung nods, his voice small. “Because that’s how the world works. People say if it’s not happy, it’s not the ending, but I don’t believe that. In stories, maybe you can stop at the happy moment, but in real life? How can anyone promise they’ll live happily forever? Sadness comes, people hurt each other… then what?”

Jeongguk leans back slightly, eyes gentle. “So what? Because of that fear, we should stop living? A happy ending doesn’t mean every day is filled with happiness, Tae. Bad days will come, that’s normal. What matters is how you face them, if you stay, help each other, and still choose love even when it’s hard. Life isn’t all flowers, but it’s not all thorns either.”

“I know,” Taehyung says quietly. “But sadness, pain, failure… it’s scary.”

Jeongguk smiles a little. “What’s scary about it? It’s reality. Okay, tell me, what are you feeling right now?”

Taehyung thinks for a second. “Dizzy? Confused. A little heavy.”

“And yet, you’re here,” Jeongguk says. “You’re sitting here, talking about it, going through it. Because you’re strong enough to handle it. Why do you think God, or fate, or whatever you believe in, would give you something you can’t bear? Maybe all the pain in your past was just preparing you, to make you stronger, so that when happiness comes, you can feel it more deeply.”

Taehyung smiles faintly. “Maybe. I never thought of it like that. I’m already facing the very things I’m scared of for the future… just multiplied.”

Jeongguk nods. “Exactly. You’re scared, but that’s okay. Remember when you were a kid and terrified of riding a bicycle or swimming? And now, it’s easy for you, right? Because the only way to pass fear… is to go through it.”

Taehyung chuckles, the heaviness in his voice softening. “You’re not gonna throw me in the water, right?”

Jeongguk laughs quietly, shaking his head. “You’re too grown up for that now. I want you to be strong enough to jump in on your own, and brave enough to keep swimming.”

Taehyung’s smile fades into something more thoughtful. “But… what if my next relationship fails too?”

“But what if it’s the happiest one?” Jeongguk says gently. “And even if it fails, so what? A failed relationship doesn’t define you, Tae. Getting out of a bad one is always better than losing yourself inside it.”

He leans forward, voice soft but steady. “With your ex-wife, you held on too tightly. So tightly that she started taking you for granted… and eventually looked for a way out. You made her, and your marriage, your whole world. But she made herself her priority. You forgot yourself, and she forgot you. You were both wrong in different ways. What matters is balance, love others, but don’t forget yourself in the process. You should be the first person to love you. Because when you do, others will, too. And even if one day no one’s left, you’ll still have yourself. And that’s enough.”Taehyung nods, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I’m not that lovable, I guess.”

“Oh, please.” Jeongguk rolls his eyes. “You’re the easiest person to love. You’re beautiful, kind, sensitive, understanding, and annoying, but funny.”

Taehyung laughs. “Really? So would anyone be lucky to have me?”

“They would be,” Jeongguk says without hesitation. “But I don’t want anyone to be lucky.”

Taehyung raises an eyebrow, teasing. “Then who?”

“Me. Only me,” Jeongguk says, smiling, and Taehyung bursts into laughter.

“Thank you, Jeongguk,” he says softly after a moment. “I still don’t know what you saw in me, but… it’s really boosting my ego.”

Jeongguk grins. “Give me the chance, and I’ll boost it every day.”

Taehyung tilts his head. “But what about the restrictions?”

Jeongguk sighs. “After this end, we’re supposed to stay away from each other for at least a year or two. But you and I both know… what we have was never just doctor and patient. And honestly? I don’t want to wait.”

“So?” Taehyung asks, eyes narrowing slightly but amused.

“So… we’ll call it the end of your sessions and just, stay together. No one needs to know you were my patient.”

Taehyung hums thoughtfully. “Hmm. So, you want to keep me a secret?”

Jeongguk panics immediately. “No, no! Not at all. just people from work, for a while. Unless you want to see me lose my license and go to jail—”

Taehyung laughs. “No, I really don’t want that. Okay.”

“What ‘okay’?” Jeongguk asks, confused.

Taehyung stands, smiling slyly. “Take me on a date, and I’ll tell you.”

Jeongguk blinks. “Wait, seriously?”

Before Taehyung can answer, there’s a knock at the door. “Dr. Jeon, your next patient is here.”

Taehyung grins. “Bye, Dr. Jeon. Let’s meet tomorrow.”

Jeongguk stands quickly. “I’ll come pick you up for our date. Send me your address.”

Taehyung chuckles. “That’s a clever way to ask for my address. But yes, I will.”

He steps closer, presses a quick kiss to Jeongguk’s cheek, and whispers, “Bye.”

Jeongguk just smiles, watching him leave, heart full and helpless.

✤

All his life, people told Jeongguk it was time to settle down. He was old enough now, had a steady career, money, and a house. Everything, except someone to share it with. But he never met anyone who made his heart race, who made him want to lay his whole world at their feet. Not until Taehyung.

And Jeongguk knows, it’s unconditional love. Maybe people would call him stupid, reckless, or say he isn’t thinking straight. Maybe they’d be right. But Jeongguk has always believed in one thing –his heart. And right now, his heart is certain he’s choosing the right person.

So, he dresses well, picks up a bouquet of red roses. (Cliché? Maybe. But they remind him of Taehyung, warm, bold, a little impossible to ignore.) Then he drives to Taehyung’s place. They never confirm a date again; he just decides to show up. They can figure the rest out together.

He rings the bell. Once. Twice. Five times. Just when he’s about to give up, a drowsy voice mumbles from inside, “Coming…”

The door opens to reveal a sleepy Taehyung, hair messy, eyes half-closed, wearing something soft and oversized.

Jeongguk can’t help smiling. He looks like a bear he wants to wrap his arms around.

Taehyung blinks, confused. “What are you doing here?”

“Aa… our date.” Jeongguk scratches the back of his neck, suddenly unsure.

Taehyung blinks at him, still half-asleep. “Guk, it’s literally eleven a.m. Who goes on a date this early?”

Jeongguk pouts, his ears turning red. “I don’t know, okay? I just… wanted to see you.”

Taehyung lets out a sleepy chuckle, his lips curving into a soft grin. “You’re such a baby,” he teases, voice warm and fond.

“I’m not,” Jeongguk mumbles, sulking slightly. “But… can I come in?”

“Definitely.” Taehyung steps aside, and Jeongguk walks in. The place isn’t luxurious, but it feels cozy, like him.

“Your house is pretty,” 

“Thanks,” Taehyung turns to face him, eyes glinting with amusement. “Aren’t you going to give me the flowers? They’re for me, right?”

“Oh! Yeah, of course. Here.” Jeongguk quickly offers the bouquet, his shy smile returning.

Taehyung takes it gently, the corners of his lips softening. “So,” he asks, holding Jeongguk’s hand and tugging him toward the couch, “do you wanna go out or…?”

Jeongguk shakes his head, sitting close beside him. “No. Just being here with you, that’s a date to me. Unless you want to go somewhere.”

“I really don’t, I just wanna stay here and cuddle with you.”

Jeongguk’s smile widens. “Perfect.”

“Alright then,” Taehyung murmurs, leaning in to press a soft kiss on Jeongguk’s cheek. “Let me freshen up a little, and then we can talk, okay?”

Jeongguk nods, heart fluttering as he watches Taehyung disappear into his room.

Jeongguk waits on the couch. He isn’t nervous, just uneasy, unsure why a small part of him fearsthat something might go wrong, or that Taehyung might  decide he’s not worth a chance.

When Taehyung returns, his hair is a bit neater, his eyes clearer. He sits beside Jeongguk again, but this time, there’s a small gap between them.

“Now it’s really hitting me that you’re here,” Taehyung says quietly. “It’s the first time.”

Jeongguk turns to him. “Do you hate it?”

Taehyung shakes his head. “No. It’s just… she was the last person who came here.” He lets out a slow sigh. “I never let anyone else in. Never my hookups. Not even my friends.”

Jeongguk’s expression softens. “Thank you for letting me in,” he says, reaching out to hold Taehyung’s hand. “And I promise, I’ll never leave you.”

Taehyung looks at their joined hands, then up at Jeongguk with a faint, sincere smile. “It’s strange, but I trust you. I really do. Last night I was thinking about why I’m not scared of you, or repulsed. I don’t know the reason, but when I look at you, I see something true. You make me feel safe, Guk.”

Jeongguk’s heart aches in the best way. He lifts Taehyung’s hand and presses a soft kiss to his palm. “Then I’ll keep you safe,” he murmurs. “You, your heart, your soul.”

Taehyung exhales, eyes flickering with quiet emotion. “What about you?” he asks softly. “Do you really think I can give you something in return? I don’t know if I can give you everything, you’re so willing to give me. I’m… so broken. So empty. I don’t think I have much left.”

Jeongguk shakes his head gently. “Don’t say that. It’s not true. What you have– I want that. I want you. However you are. You’re not broken, Tae. You’re kind, empathetic, sensitive… beautiful. You’re full of love, even if you don’t see it.”

“I’m not an easy person, Guk.”

“I don’t mind,” Jeongguk says softly. “Just give me a chance. Be with me. Let me love you. Let me give you all the things you deserve —love, respect, attention… a family.”

Taehyung looks at him, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Jeongguk leans in, their foreheads touching, his voice barely above a whisper. “We’ll make a home together,” he says. “We’ll have a kid — our kid. We’ll live together, love each other, and love them too.” He tilts his head slightly, meeting Taehyung’s gaze. “Would you like that?”

Taehyung smiles, his voice trembling, eyes wet. “I would love that.”

“I love you, Tae.”

He wraps his arms around Jeongguk’s neck, their breaths mingling. “I love you, Hyung,” he murmurs against Jeongguk’s lips before kissing him, softly, deeply, as if sealing a promise.

Jeongguk’s hands slide to Taehyung’s waist, pulling him closer, holding him like he’s afraid to ever let go.

And there, in the quiet warmth of Taehyung’s home, with gentle kisses and unspoken vows, Jeongguk finds his person—

and Taehyung, for the first time in a long while, finds his home.

✤