Chapter Text
One thing Seongjae had learned about the army since he got here was the smell.
The metal trays streaked with old grease, no matter how many times they're washed. The dump at the back of the mess hall. The scent of the soldiers' colognes (and for some, lack thereof).
Another important thing he'd learned was how to discern ranks. Little guys like him did their best to scurry along so as not to attract trouble. The big bosses and the older soldiers however, walked like they had all the time in the world.
By the end of his first week, he could already identify ranks by footsteps alone.
Seongjae kept his head down of course, that part came naturally.
A soldier bumped into him and pressed the button on his chest while chuckling with his friends.
“High-risk recruit.”
The label had followed him from processing to evaluation to assignment. Nobody said it quietly either. It always sounded like an accusation. Like it was his fault he was depressed. Seongjae understood their apprehension, but he just couldn't understand the derision that came with it.
He’d seen the way the Major Sergeant glanced at his file and then at him after they discovered he wasn't the ace they were hoping for. Seen the subtle tightening around the mouth. The invisible categorization.
Problematic. Fragile. Potential incident.
The military had a thousand polite terms for men they didn’t trust around rifles and isolation.
Seongjae wasn’t violent. Wasn’t unstable. But that didn’t matter. Once the psychologists stamped a red mark onto your profile, the army stopped seeing you as a person and started seeing you as a management issue.
So they sent him to the kitchen.
Not officially because of the evaluation, of course.
Officially, it was because manpower was needed in the mess hall (and truthfully, no one could make Donghyun's cooking worse than it already is).
Unofficially, it was just to keep him away from active duty. Cooks woke before dawn, slept after midnight, and existed somewhere outside normal military structure. They were mocked by combat units and envied at the same time.
At least kitchen soldiers got warm hands in winter and avoided field exercises. The cost was that they worked like dogs.
However, Seongjae didn't mind. Although his hands burned from the amount of cleaning and cooking he had to do in a day, compared to the screaming drill instructors and endless inspections and that constant fear of doing something wrong, the kitchen almost felt
...survivable.
Nobody really cared if he was awkward or that he avoided eye contact or that he was always suspiciously talking to himself (they cared but they didn't rush him to the hospital because of it so he's grateful).
As long as he worked, he became background noise.
And Seongjae had spent most of his life learning how to become invisible.
“You. New kid.”
He looked up immediately.
Cha Seungu stood near the storage room entrance, chewing on a toothpick.
“Private Kang Seongjae!” He saluted.
The staff sergeant stared another second before shrugging.
“Whatever. Bathroom duty after lunch.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And clean it properly. Last guy left piss under the urinals.”
Laughter erupted nearby.
Seongjae bowed slightly.
“Yes, sir.”
Cha Seungu considered him for a moment before wandering off.
Donghyun muttered under his breath, “Do your work and don't make eye contact while you're there. I'll be too busy to come save you if anyone bullies you.”
Seongjae blinked.
The other man patted his soldier. “Just mind your business and you'll be fine.”
—
The tiles beside the urinals were stained permanently yellow no matter how much bleach they used.
Seongjae wore rubber gloves two sizes too big and scrubbed silently.
Dinner service would begin in two hours, but Seongjae hadn't even got rid of the stubborn patches on the ground. Voices drifted through the hallway beyond the bathroom door. Soldiers finishing chores. Somebody laughing too loudly. Heavy boots hitting the floor.
Seongjae focused on scrubbing mildew from grout lines and groaned. He was going to be here a while.
“Seriously?” A groan echoed from outside.
“He’s coming back tonight?”
“Shut up. Don’t say it so loud.” Another voice answered immediately.
“I’m just asking.”
“Well stop asking.”
Seongjae paused unconsciously.
The soldiers sounded close. Probably smoking by the back exit.
He dipped the brush back into bleach water.
“Doesn’t his leave end tomorrow?”
“That's what I heard.”
“Why would he come back early? What's the point of earning extra days if you're not going to use them?”
A long silence followed.
“Probably because he’s insane.”
Muted laughter followed.
Seongjae kept scrubbing but couldn't resist slowing down his scrubbing so he could hear what they were saying clearly.
“Fuck, I was finally sleeping peacefully too.” Someone that sounded just like the corporal said.
“You act like he killed somebody.”
“I mean, he almost did. Both here and at his old unit.”
“Shh!”
“What? Everyone knows about it.”
The voices dropped lower after that.
Seongjae shouldn’t have listened.
In the military, overhearing things was dangerous. Knowing too much meant accidentally saying too much.
Still, no one needed to know he was here as long as they stayed outside so it was probably fine.
He inched closer.
“Who’s on night duty?”
“I heard second squad.”
“They’re screwed.”
“You think he’ll make them do night drills again?”
“He always makes them do night drills.”
A sigh.
Then another soldier muttered:
“I swear, Sergeant Shin Ahwi doesn’t sleep. He just waits for people to mess up. The only good thing about him is that he minds his business. Mostly.”
The name settled strangely in the silence afterward.
Shin Ahwi.
Even the way they said it felt careful.
Seongjae didn't even know he had stopped scrubbing at that moment.
Another voice spoke up.
“You remember what happened to Minho?”
“Oh my god.”
“What?”
“Don’t start.”
“No, seriously. Tell me.”
The first speaker paused.
“Minho forgot to salute him after overnight patrol and then punished a junior for the same thing to him.”
“And?”
“And Sergeant Shin made him hold a combat pack above his head for two hours outside. In winter.”
Seongjae frowned faintly.
“That’s it?”
The words escaped before he realized he’d spoken.
Silence slammed down outside.
Seongjae froze. Shit.
The bathroom door creaked open slowly.
Three soldiers stared at him. One held a cigarette halfway to his mouth. Another narrowed his eyes.
“You were listening?”
Seongjae bowed instinctively.
“I’m sorry.”
“You scared the hell out of us.”
Seongjae cowered even more. “Sorry.”
The tallest soldier leaned against the doorway.
“You’re the new kitchen recruit.”
“Yes.”
The soldier studied him another moment before snorting.
“You think two hours holding a pack isn’t bad? In the biting cold? No coat, no scarf, nothing.”
“I…”
“You ever held one for that long?”
“No.”
“Exactly.”
The cigarette soldier laughed softly.
“Don’t worry. You’ll meet him eventually.”
Something about the way he said it made the air colder.
“Sergeant Shin doesn't really mess with people first. He's a real son of a bitch though. You should watch your back, spineless as you are."
Another soldier muttered nudged him, as if to remind him to keep his mouth shut around the new recruit.
Footsteps echoed somewhere down the corridor. The reaction was immediate. Cigarettes vanished. Spines straightened.
One of the soldiers hissed under his breath, “Fuck.”
Seongjae turned instinctively toward the hallway.
The footsteps grew closer. Every step deliberate enough to command attention without asking for it. But Seongjae wasn’t nervous. He knew those steps.
A shadow stretched across the corridor floor first. Yoon Donghyun.
"Are you guys giving my kitchen assistant trouble?"
"No sir!" They echoed.
He nodded then gestured at Seongjae to follow him.
"Very good. I need to take this one back with me to the kitchen. He's been gone for way too long and it's almost dinner time." With that he turned and left the gossiping men alone, taking his little assistant with him.
Seongjae was thankful Donghyun came to get him despite saying he wouldn't. He mulled over the name he got from the conversation.
Shin Ahwi. Just who the hell are you?
—
Then the man himself appeared once it was dinner time.
Dinner in the military was less a meal and more a controlled riot. At least it became that way once Seongjae started handling more meals.
Metal trays slammed against counters in relentless rhythm. Boots dragged across concrete floors. Voices bounced off the mess hall walls until every sentence dissolved into noise. Steam rose in thick clouds from industrial rice cookers while Donghyun and Seongjae did their best to serve all the soldiers quickly.
“More rice.”
Seongjae added another scoop automatically.
“Thanks.”
Next tray.
“Soup.”
Seongjae kept his eyes mostly lowered as he served, looking up to smile at the friendly ones. Until suddenly, the energy in the room changed.
Several soldiers near the doors straightened instinctively.
Someone yelled, “Sergeant Shin!”
Groans erupted immediately afterward.
“Ah, fuck. He’s back.”
“Why’d you return early?!”
“Didn’t anybody stop him at the gate?”
A chorus of exaggerated despair spread through the hall.
Seongjae heard enough stories about Sergeant Shin Ahwi over the past hours to build ten different versions of the man in his head.
According to some soldiers, Ahwi was insane. According to others, he was the best officer they'd ever had transfered to their base.
Cruel. Fair. Terrifying. Crazy. Nobody described him the same way twice. They all came to the same conclusion though.
He wasn't to be messed with.
“Kang Seongjae!”
He snapped upright immediately.
Donghyun glared beside him.
“You deaf?”
“No, sir!”
“Serving line. Move!”
“Yes, sir!”
Seongjae hurried to serve the people he'd kept waiting at the counter.
Several soldiers erupted immediately as Shin Ahwi stepped into the mess hall.
“Welcome back!”
“Did you bring snacks?!”
A few others offered lazy salutes from their seats without bothering to stand.
One sergeant actually booed.
“Why’d you come back early?!”
Laughter spread across the hall, the kind reserved for people deeply familiar with each other.
Seongjae looked up automatically.
And saw him.
Sergeant Shin Ahwi stood near the mess hall entrance carrying a duffel bag over one shoulder.
Tall and incredibly handsome. Dark uniform fitted sharply against broad shoulders. He was also much younger than Seongjae expected. The man standing across the room couldn't be older than twenty-five yet they talked about him like he was an old head.
A crooked smirk pulled at one corner of his mouth as soldiers shouted complaints and greetings across the room.
“You bastards survived without me?”
“Barely!”
“Of course.” Ahwi said dryly.
Someone laughed loud enough to choke.
The entire hall seemed looser around him despite the fear threaded underneath the interactions. Soldiers called out stories from training. One corporal jogged over to grab Ahwi’s duffel bag while another demanded to know what he’d brought back from leave.
Ahwi fielded it all with that same faint smirk, this version of him felt dangerously human.
And then Ahwi looked up, directly at the serving line.
At Seongjae.
The smile vanished instantly.
His expression blanked so suddenly it almost looked violent.
Seongjae’s hand stalled mid-scoop.
Something strange flickered across Ahwi’s face. The hall noise blurred faintly around the edges as Ahwi stared, not even bothering to hide his shock.
He stared like he’d just seen a ghost standing behind the counter.
His eyes snapped away for half a second before immediately returning to Seongjae with sharper intensity.
The soldiers around him kept talking.
Ahwi ignored every single one.
Slowly, deliberately, he started walking toward the serving line.
Something cold crawled down Seongjae’s spine.
Fuck.
The closer Ahwi got, the stranger his expression became. Focused enough to make Seongjae instinctively lean back slightly.
The intensity of his gaze felt invasive, like fingers pressing against old bruises beneath skin.
Soldiers noticed immediately.
Whispers spread through the line.
“What’s happening?”
“Why’s he looking at the kitchen recruit like that?”
“Did Seongjae screw something up?”
“No way. Sergeant Shin would’ve killed him already. Besides he went on leave before Seongjae got here.”
Ahwi stopped directly in front of the counter.
Close enough for Seongjae to catch the scent of cold air clinging to his uniform. Underneath that he smelt something else.
The smell hit Seongjae strangely hard. Not because it was strong or bad, but it felt familiar.
His stomach twisted faintly.
Ahwi stared at him another long second before speaking.
“Kang Seongjae.”
The casualness startled him more than yelling would have.
Why did he speak to him like they already knew each other?
Seongjae blinked.
“…Sir?”
Ahwi’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“Why are you answering me like that?”
The question landed oddly intimate amid the chaos of the mess hall.
Seongjae frowned unconsciously.
Around them, soldiers had gone suspiciously quiet.
Even the serving line slowed.
Donghyun looked moments away from spontaneous combustion from curiosity.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Seongjae answered carefully. “Have we met before?”
Ahwi stared at him for a moment, then a muscle ticked sharply in his jaw.
The reaction was small, almost invisible. But unmistakably irritated.
“You don’t remember.”
It wasn’t phrased as a question either.
Seongjae’s confusion deepened.
Because now that Ahwi stood close, now that he could properly look at him, there was something disturbingly familiar about this entire interaction.
Not the face.
He was sure he would remember a face like that.
But the position of them.
The angle.
Ahwi standing over him slightly while staring with unsettling focus.
And that scent.
God.
Why did that scent feel lodged somewhere deep in his memory?
Seongjae searched desperately through old recollections.
High school?
No.
University?
No.
A hospital?
A train station?
Nothing fit.
Yet the feeling remained.
Like trying to recall a dream seconds after waking.
“You should think harder.” Ahwi said quietly.
The mess hall had become so silent Seongjae could hear the sound of breathing around him.
“I… I am thinking, sir.”
“Clearly not enough.” Another tick in Ahwi’s jaw.
Oh he was getting more irritated. Something about his expression almost looked offended.
As if Seongjae forgetting him constituted a personal betrayal.
Which made absolutely no sense.
Seongjae searched his face again helplessly.
Sharp eyes. Mole under his left eye. Tall. Broad shoulders.
Nothing.
“I’m sorry,” he admitted quietly. “I don’t remember.”
Ahwi looked at him for a very long time.
Then his gaze dropped slightly.
To Seongjae’s hands gripping the rice paddle.
Something unreadable flashed across his expression then it was gone almost as fast it came.
When he spoke again, his voice sounded flatter.
“You really don’t.”
“No, sir.”
Silence stretched.
The soldiers around them looked ready to explode from tension. One private halfway down the line was openly pretending to adjust his tray just to keep watching.
Ahwi inhaled slowly through his nose.
And suddenly Seongjae became hyperaware again of that scent surrounding him. Something old inside his chest tightened painfully.
Darkness.
Hands grabbing fabric—
The memory vanished before he could catch it.
Seongjae blinked hard and unfortunately for him, Ahwi noticed immediately.
His eyes sharpened. “You remembered something.”
Seongjae frowned.
“What?”
“That look.”
For one strange moment, Ahwi seemed almost intent. Hopeful, even. “Keep going.”
“I don’t understand.”
"Don't play dumb.”
The question sent genuine confusion through him.
“I'm sorry sir, I'm really not.”
"It's true. He's always like this. Nothing in that head except recipes and air." Donghyun chimed in, placing his hands on Seongjae’s shoulders before flinching away after Ahwi sent him a frigid glare.
Ahwi looked at the two of them then laughed once under his breath.
Around them, soldiers exchanged increasingly alarmed glances.
Ahwi leaned slightly closer across the serving counter, close enough that Seongjae instinctively leaned back again.
There it was again. That feeling.
Familiarity so sharp it bordered on nausea.
Like his body recognized something his mind refused to process.
“You really forgot,” Ahwi murmured. "What a shame."
Seongjae swallowed.
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“Stop apologizing.”
The response came immediately, automatic and too familiar.
Seongjae froze slightly.
Because he’d heard those exact words before. From several people actually but the way Ahwi said it...
The memory slipped away again before fully forming.
Ahwi watched Seongjae get increasingly frustrated until he had enough and straightened, stepping away from the counter.
The surrounding soldiers collectively remembered how to breathe.
Ahwi’s face smoothed into something unreadable again.
“Fine.” he said flatly.
Seongjae blinked.
“Sir?”
“If you can’t remember, you can’t remember.”
Something about the way he said it sounded deeply irritated despite the calm tone.
He picked up an empty tray from the stack beside the counter.
Held it out.
“Well?”
Seongjae stared stupidly for half a second before realizing—
Food. The line. Right.
The entire mess hall was watching.
Flushing faintly, he scooped rice onto the tray.
Ahwi kept staring at him while Seongjae added soup and side dishes with visibly stiff movements.
When their hands brushed briefly during the tray exchange, Seongjae’s chest tightened violently.
A voice near his ear saying something low and rough—
He nearly dropped the serving spoon.
Ahwi noticed. Of course he noticed. Those sharp eyes missed absolutely nothing.
But instead of commenting, he simply took the tray and walked away to eat his meal at the other end of the hall.
Just like that. No explanation, only tension left hanging thick in the air behind him.
Donghyun and most of the soldiers remained dead silent for the entirety of dinner until Ahwi stood up to leave.
Then chaos exploded.
“What the hell was that?”
“You know Sergeant Shin?!”
“Why was he looking at you like that?!”
“Did you scam him?"
“Do you even think thats possible?!”
Laughter erupted instantly.
Seongjae nearly choked.
"I really don't–”
“Oh stop pretending. You know something, spit it out. Maybe we can finally get something on that bastard.”
Seongjae was starting to get ticked off. What was it about him that made people so invasive?
“I don’t know him.”
“Apparently he disagrees.” Donghyun said.
“That was terrifying.” another muttered.
A private leaned closer conspiratorially.
“I thought he was about to climb over the counter.”
“Shut up.”
“No seriously. His eyes were crazy.”
Seongjae looked instinctively across the mess hall to where Ahwi sat before, eating in complete silence as several soldiers attempted conversation around him.
He really couldn't understand this man.
The rest of dinner service blurred.
Soldiers kept pestering him with questions he couldn’t answer.
Did they know each other before enlistment? No, he didn't think so.
Had Seongjae transferred from another base? No, he just enlisted.
Did Ahwi have some weird grudge? It was hard to tell. Back in high school, boys used to jeer at Seongjae simply because he was too 'pretty', but he doubted that was Shin Ahwi’s problem with him.
Nobody believed Seongjae’s repeated insistence that he genuinely had no idea.
Frankly, neither did he anymore. He genuinely felt like he'd met the man before. As if this exact tension had existed once before somewhere else.
By the time dinner ended, Seongjae felt wrung out.
He cleaned while Donghyun entertained himself by replaying the interaction repeatedly.
“His face when you didn’t remember him, woah it was so intense, I couldn't believe it. You definitely knew each other.”
“We didn’t!”
“Then why’d he say your name like that?”
Seongjae had no answer, but he had a feeling he'd understand soon.
–
By the time kitchen cleanup ended, Seongjae felt half-dead.
His shoulders burned from carrying full pots. His palms smelled permanently of garlic no matter how many times he washed them. Every muscle in his legs ached from standing since before sunrise.
The second he was done, Seongjae sought out the showers. The barracks corridors had quieted considerably by then.
His body ached for hot water but his brain, unfortunately, refused to shut up.
A hand gripping the back of his neck.
The smell of cigarettes and soap.
Seongjae frowned to himself while pushing open the shower room door. He undressed quietly near the lockers before stepping beneath an empty showerhead near the far wall.
Hot water hit his shoulders.
Every muscle in his body immediately loosened enough to hurt.
He exhaled slowly.
Finally.
For several minutes, he simply stood there letting heat wash over him while the noise of the day dissolved piece by piece down the drain.
His mind drifted back to Ahwi as he rubbed shampoo absently through his hair.
Had they really met before? If so, where? Why did Seongjae’s body react to him before his mind could?
The answer sat just beyond reach, frustratingly close.
Water splashed somewhere beside him.
Seongjae barely noticed at first.
The communal showers were usually empty at this time but there was always a chance a random soldier would want a midnight shower.
Another sound cut through the steam. Closer this time. Water striking tile directly beside him.
He turned absently and froze.
Sergeant Shin Ahwi stood under the neighboring showerhead.
For one terrible second, Seongjae thought his brain had invented him.
Steam curled thickly around broad shoulders and damp black hair. Water ran in slow lines down slightly tan skin marked faintly with old bruises and scars. Ahwi stood with one hand braced against the tiled wall, head slightly bowed beneath the spray.
Completely unbothered.
As though this were perfectly normal.
Seongjae nearly did a double take hard enough to injure himself.
When did he get here? He hadn’t heard the lockers. Or footsteps.
Nothing.
Ahwi simply existed beside him now like some hallucination summoned from overthinking. Seongjae had been getting those lately.
He waited instinctively for acknowledgment or another impossible conversation.
Instead, he got nothing.
Ahwi didn’t even glance at him.
He just washed his hair calmly like Seongjae wasn’t standing less than six feet away staring at him in shock.
The silence became unbearable almost immediately.
Steam thickened the air between them.
Ssongjae snuck a glance at the other man again and internally groaned. Unfortunately for his peace of mind, Sergeant Shin Ahwi was built unfairly.
Lean muscle layered over broad shoulders and a narrow waist earned through military routine rather than gym vanity. Old scars cut pale lines across his skin here and there. One near his ribs, another along his shoulder.
His hair looked softer wet.
That was a stupid thing to notice.
Seongjae immediately looked away again.
Water ran down the side of Ahwi’s neck slowly.
Seongjae stared accidentally for half a second too long.
Then another.
This is insane. Why am I staring?
Ahwi remained completely silent.
The lack of interaction somehow made every tiny detail louder.
The flex of muscle beneath wet skin when he reached for shampoo.
The tattoo partially hidden near his shoulder blade.
That faint familiar scent of his.
Seongjae’s stomach twisted. He turned fully toward the water again and scrubbed soap onto his arms with unnecessary focus.
Silence stretched.
Long enough that awareness itself became painful. The shower felt too small. Too warm. Too full of another person’s presence.
Beside him, Ahwi rinsed shampoo from his hair by pushing it back with one hand.
Seongjae looked again before he could help himself.
Water streamed down Ahwi’s face and throat.
The sharp line of his jaw looked even harsher wet, his jawbone became more visible up close.
And there was something profoundly unfair about how comfortable he looked under scrutiny. He behaved exactly like someone entirely secure inside his own skin.
The realization irritated Seongjae irrationally.
Because meanwhile he felt hyperaware of everything about him.
Every movement Ahwi made dragged Seongjae’s attention helplessly after it. The flex of his shoulders beneath hot water. The slow push of wet hair back from his forehead. Water tracing down the lines of old scars and disappearing lower. And lower.
Seongjae kept looking away.
And then looking back.
It was humiliating.
Worse because Ahwi clearly noticed.
But the older man didn't say a word. He simply stood beneath the water with infuriating composure, like he had all the time in the world.
Meanwhile Seongjae felt like his nervous system had short-circuited.
Every fragment Ahwi gave him made things worse. At some point, the staring stopped being accidental.
He knew he was doing it. Knew it was obvious. But every time he tried forcing himself to look away, his eyes drifted back again like something magnetic had hooked itself beneath his ribs.
Heat crept slowly up Seongjae’s neck as his pulse stumbled strangely.
He shifted slightly beneath the spray without really thinking about it.
Ahwi was still ignoring him.
He frowned at the tiled wall across from him, trying desperately to organize thoughts that refused to stay still.
He remembered just how he'd looked at him in the mess hall after he got over his shock. He looked almost... hungry?
The thought startled him badly enough that he looked over again.
Huge mistake.
Ahwi was already watching him.
Seongjae froze.
Water ran down his face and shoulders while neither of them moved.
Then slowly, one corner of Ahwi’s mouth lifted in a knowing smile.
Seongjae’s pulse spiked immediately.
“What?” he asked, trying and failing to sound normal.
Ahwi’s eyes drifted downward briefly.
Then back up again.
The smirk deepened.
Oh no.
Realization hit Seongjae like a truck.
Heat flooded violently across his face.
Somewhere during the past several minutes of staring and spiraling and trying not to think about Ahwi’s mouth or hands or voice, his body had betrayed him completely.
Shit.
He hadn’t even noticed.
Mortification crashed over him instantly.
He moved automatically, trying to angle himself away, but Ahwi let out a quiet laugh before he could.
The sound was low, warm and dangerously amused.
“Well,” Ahwi murmured. “That answers a few questions.”
Seongjae wanted the earth to open beneath him.
“I—”
His voice cracked immediately.
Ahwi’s eyes sharpened with visible delight.
“Oh, this is familiar.”
“What is...”
“Flustered, avoiding eye contact, pretending nothing’s happening–” Ahwi broke off and turned towards him, sporting a massive hard-on himself.
Seongjae could barely breathe properly anymore.
Steam pressed thick around them. His heartbeat thundered violently against his ribs. Every instinct screamed at him to leave immediately, except his legs refused to move. He felt trapped there helplessly beneath the weight of Ahwi's attention.
Ahwi finally pushed away from the wall, closing the already minimal distance between them until the air itself felt too tight.
Seongjae instinctively leaned backward slightly.
Not enough to escape.
Ahwi noticed immediately.
His gaze darkened with unmistakable amusement.
“There it is." he said softly.
Seongjae swallowed hard.
His back nearly brushed cold tile now.
Ahwi stood close enough that Seongjae could feel warmth through the steam.
Close enough to smell him properly again.
“You’re terrified.” Ahwi observed quietly.
“I’m not terrified.”
“Liar.”
The word came almost fondly.
Seongjae’s pulse kicked harder.
“You keep staring at me." Ahwi continued.
Seongjae opened his mouth weakly.
Nothing came out.
Ahwi tilted his head slightly.
“Why?”
“I wasn’t—”
“You were.”
Another step closer.
Now Seongjae could see droplets of water caught in Ahwi’s eyelashes. Could feel the heat radiating from his skin through the steam.
His own breathing had gone uneven.
Ahwi watched that happen too.
The realization made embarrassment crawl viciously down Seongjae’s spine.
“Do you want to continue where we left off last time?"
Seongjae stared at him blankly.
“What?”
Ahwi’s eyes searched his face slowly.
“When we met.”
Something low twisted in Seongjae’s stomach.
“What did we—”
“You still don’t remember?”
The interruption came quieter this time.
Ahwi looked at him carefully, as though studying every flicker of expression.
Seongjae tried to answer.
But suddenly his brain felt full of static.
Because Ahwi had gotten even closer without him noticing.
Now there was barely any space between them at all.
The tension became suffocating.
Seongjae could hear water hitting tile behind them.
Could hear his own heartbeat.
Could feel every breath Ahwi exhaled into the humid air between them.
His body reacted before thought caught up.
Heat spread sharply through him.
His pulse raced harder.
And horrifyingly, Ahwi noticed all of it.
A faint smirk tugged at his mouth again.
Seongjae’s fingers curled helplessly at his sides.
He should move.
He should absolutely move.
Instead he stayed frozen beneath Ahwi’s gaze like prey too mesmerized to run.
“What did we do?” he asked again, softer this time.
Ahwi looked at him for a long moment. Then slowly, he leaned in.
Seongjae stopped breathing.
Warm breath ghosted briefly against his ear before Ahwi’s mouth brushed the edge of his earlobe in the lightest possible bite.
Not enough to hurt.
Just enough to send a violent shiver straight down Seongjae’s spine.
Suddenly, everything exploded.
“Think carefully about my earlier request." He ran a finger down Seongjae's face. "How about it, puppy?”
The petname was the final trigger.
Cold hands shaking uncontrollably. Warm fingers tilting Seongjae’s face upward. Ahwi teasing him relentlessly. Hands gripping his waist. That same voice in his ear. An orgasm so intense it had nearly made him black out.
The memory crashed through Seongjae so hard his knees almost gave out.
His eyes widened violently.
Ahwi pulled back just enough to watch recognition finally hit.
There it was again.
That tiny flash of relief hidden beneath his composure.
“You've remembered.” Ahwi said softly.
Seongjae stared at him in absolute shock.
He remembered everything.