The sight of Ji-won—so pale, so fragile, a mere shadow of the strong boy he loved—shattered the last of Haneul's composure. A wounded sound escaped his lips, and he surged forward, throwing his arms around Ji-won's trembling frame.
"Jiwon-ssi," he choked out, his voice muffled against a fever-hot shoulder. He held on tightly, as if he could physically press the life back into him. "Why didn't you answer your phone? I called you… I texted you so many times… I missed you so much, you scared me to death!"
The force of the hug made Ji-won stumble back a step. A flicker of his old instinct—to hide, to never be seen like this—flared, and he glanced nervously down the bleak hallway before his weakened body gave in. He let Haneul steer him fully inside the small, sparse apartment, the door clicking shut behind them.
Ji-won leaned back against the closed door, his legs barely supporting him. The effort of standing was immense. He lifted a heavy, trembling hand and gently, so gently, brushed Haneul's hair back from his damp forehead, his touch searing.
"I'm… sorry," Ji-won whispered, each word a laborious breath. His voice was a dry, cracked version of itself. "I wasn't… feeling well." A violent shiver wracked his body. "My phone… I haven't touched it since last night. The battery… it must be dead. I'm sorry… I'm so sorry for making you worry like this."
He let his forehead fall forward until it rested against Haneul's, his eyes closing. The gesture was one of utter exhaustion and surrender. "You found me," he breathed, the words filled with a awe-struck relief that broke Haneul's heart all over again.
Haneul's heart ached at the sight of Ji-won swaying on his feet. "You can't even stand," he murmured, his voice thick with worry. He slipped an arm around Ji-won's waist, guiding him carefully to the worn-out couch that seemed to be the apartment's only furniture. "Here, sit down."
He eased Ji-won onto the cushions, his touch infinitely gentle. Kneeling in front of him, Haneul looked up, his eyes searching Ji-won's fever-glazed ones. "Jiwon-ssi, did you take any medicine? You should have. You should have told me you were sick," he scolded, but his tone was soft, laced with pain. "I would have come right away. I would have bought you everything you needed."
A fresh wave of guilt washed over Ji-won's exhausted features. "I'm sorry," he rasped again, the apology becoming a mantra. "I… didn't think."
"You never do about yourself," Haneul sighed, his shoulders slumping. He helped Ji-won shift, laying him down properly on the couch, arranging a thin cushion under his head. "Just rest, okay? I'll run to the pharmacy. I'll be quick."
He began to stand, but a weak, surprisingly strong hand shot out and caught his wrist.
"No."
The word was a raw, desperate plea. Ji-won's eyes, though heavy, were wide with a sudden, panicked clarity. "Don't go." He tugged, his strength fueled by fear, not fever. "Stay here. Please."
Haneul froze, looking down at the hand clutching his, then at the vulnerable, pleading expression on Ji-won's face. His heart swelled, melting all his anxiety into a fierce, protective tenderness. A soft, understanding smile finally touched his lips. "Okay," he whispered, his voice soothing. "Okay, I'm not going anywhere."
He let Ji-won pull him down until he was half-lying beside him on the narrow couch. Ji-won immediately buried his face in the crook of Haneul's neck, his breathing already deepening as the exhaustion reclaimed him. Haneul gently stroked his hair, his fingers tracing the shell of his burning ear. "Just sleep," he murmured. "I've got you."
He felt the exact moment Ji-won drifted off, his body going completely limp and heavy against him. The trust in that surrender made Haneul's eyes sting. After a few minutes, carefully, so as not to wake him, Haneul untangled himself.
He found a thin, worn blanket in a barren bedroom and draped it over Ji-won, tucking the edges around his shoulders. He stood for a moment, just watching the slow, labored rise and fall of his chest.
Then, with a determined set to his jaw, he turned and walked to the small, bleak kitchen. He would make soup. He would use whatever was here a few lonely cloves of garlic, maybe some leftover rice, a single spring onion wilting in the fridge. It didn't matter. He would make something warm and healing, because that's what you did for someone you loved when they were broken. You stayed, and you built them back up, piece by piece.
The small apartment was silent except for Ji-won's ragged breathing and the soft, determined sounds of Haneul in the kitchen. He'd found a single pot, a few cloves of garlic, and a packet of instant congee. It wasn't much, but he infused it with every ounce of care he possessed, stirring it as if he could whisk health directly into the broth.
Once the simple soup was simmering, Haneul slipped out, returning quickly with a bag from the pharmacy. He knelt beside the couch again, his movements gentle as he placed a cool, damp cloth on Ji-won's burning forehead.
The touch, so tender and cool, stirred Ji-won from his feverish sleep. His eyelids fluttered open, struggling to focus. "Haneul…?" he whispered, his voice a dry croak.
"I'm here," Haneul soothed, his hand stroking Ji-won's hair. "I made you some soup. You need to eat something." He held up a spoonful of the warm congee. "Here, open up."
Ji-won looked from the spoon to Haneul's earnest, worried face, a profound disbelief clouding his fever-hazed eyes. "You… you made this? For me?"
"Of course I did," Haneul said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He gently pressed the spoon to Ji-won's lips. "Now, please. Just a little."
Too weak to protest, Ji-won accepted the soup. It was simple, but it was warm, and it felt like life itself spreading through his cold, aching body. After a few spoonfuls, Haneul set the bowl aside and picked up the box of fever reducers.
"Now for the medicine," Haneul announced, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Ji-won's face immediately contorted into a look of pure, childish dread. He tried to turn his head away. "No," he mumbled, his voice thick. "I hate it. It's bitter. I don't need it."
"Yes, you do," Haneul insisted, his heart aching at the rare, vulnerable protest. He broke the pill in half. "You're burning up. Please, Jiwon-ssi. For me?"
But Ji-won clenched his jaw, stubborn even in his delirium. Seeing that logic and pleading wouldn't work, a bold, loving idea sparked in Haneul's mind. His cheeks flushed a delicate pink.
"Fine," Haneul whispered, his voice soft but firm. "If you won't take it… I'll have to make you."
Before Ji-won could process the words, Haneul placed one half of the pill between his own lips. He leaned down, cradling Ji-won's face in his hands, and pressed his mouth to Ji-won's in a soft, determined kiss.
Ji-won's eyes flew wide open in shock. The bitter taste of the pill met his tongue, but it was utterly eclipsed by the overwhelming sweetness of Haneul's lips, the tender insistence of the kiss. His resistance melted instantly. He swallowed, the action reflexive.
Haneul pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, his own face flaming. "See?" he breathed, his voice trembling slightly. "Not so bad, was it?"
He then picked up the other half of the pill, a shy, triumphant smile playing on his lips. "Ready for the other half?"
Stunned, humbled, and utterly disarmed, Ji-won could only give a weak, dazed nod. Haneul repeated the process, and this time, Ji-won's eyes fluttered shut, accepting not just the medicine, but the profound, healing love with which it was given.
The moment the second half of the pill was swallowed, the dynamic shifted. Instead of letting Haneul pull away, Ji-won's hand, which had been lying weakly on the couch, came up to cradle the back of his neck. He pulled Haneul back down, his movements slow but deliberate despite the fever.
This kiss was different. It wasn't a means to an end. It was deep, tender, and searching. Ji-won's tongue slid past Haneul's lips, not forceful, but languid and thorough, as if he was trying to map the familiar, comforting terrain of Haneul's mouth, to wash away the memory of his own weakness with the taste of the boy he loved.
Haneul melted into it, the last of his worry dissolving into a warm, syrupy feeling of rightness. He could still taste the faint, bitter tang of the medicine on Ji-won's tongue, but somehow, mixed with the essence of him, it didn't taste bitter at all. It tasted like love, and care, and a shared, intimate secret.
When they finally parted, both were breathless. Haneul's eyes were soft and dreamy, his lips slightly swollen.
Ji-won looked up at him, his expression utterly, profoundly serious. His fever-bright eyes held Haneul's gaze.
"See?" Ji-won said, his voice a low, raspy murmur. "You felt the bitterness too. That is how it always tastes to me."
The romantic spell shattered.
Haneul froze, his dreamy expression morphing into one of pure, unadulterated disbelief. He stared at Ji-won. The deep, soul-searching kiss… had been a clinical demonstration? A taste-test of bitterness?
A snort escaped him. Then a choked giggle. Then, he couldn't hold it back anymore. He threw his head back and burst into peals of helpless, wheezing laughter, clutching his stomach as tears of mirth streamed down his face.
"YAH! HAN JIWON!" he managed to gasp between laughs, collapsing onto the floor beside the couch. "You— you absolute—! I thought that was so romantic! And you were just… giving me a sample?!"
Ji-won watched the laughing fit, completely bewildered. A faint, embarrassed pink tinged his pale cheeks. "I… I did not make a joke," he stated, his confusion genuine. "I was stating a factual observation about the unpleasant flavor profile."
This only made Haneul laugh harder, rolling onto his back and kicking his feet in the air. "A 'flavor profile'! Oh my god! You're impossible!"
He crawled back up, wiping tears from his eyes, and cupped Ji-won's flushed, confused face in his hands. "You," Haneul said, his voice full of endless affection, "are the most wonderfully, adorably, infuriatingly literal person in the entire world." He leaned in and planted a loud, smacking kiss on Ji-won's forehead. "And I love you. Even if your romantic gestures need a little work."
Ji-won's shoulders slumped slightly at Haneul's teasing, a rare, genuine pout touching his lips. He looked down, his voice a quiet, embarrassed mumble. "I can be romantic too, you know."
Haneul, still trying to contain his giggles, choked on his own breath. He pulled Ji-won into a tight, fond hug, patting his back. "Yeah, yeah, of course you can," he said, his voice dripping with playful condescension. "I know, I know. You're the king of romance."
Ji-won pulled back from the hug, his expression shifting from embarrassed to genuinely offended. His fever-bright eyes narrowed. "You are patronizing me. You do not believe me."
"I do believe you!" Haneul insisted, but the laughter was still bubbling just beneath the surface, making his words sound anything but sincere. He bit his lip, trying to force a straight face. "I totally believe you'll be super romantic. Maybe you'll calculate the precise trajectory of a falling cherry blossom petal for me."
Before Ji-won could retort, the apartment door swung open with a jarring creak.
The woman who entered was a stark, painful contrast to the sickroom atmosphere. Han Mira stood there, draped in a sleek, obviously expensive new dress, her makeup flawless and her hair perfectly styled. She smelled strongly of expensive perfume and stale wine. Her eyes, sharp and assessing, scanned the room, landing on the two boys on the couch with immediate, cold displeasure.
"Well, well," she slurred, her voice cutting through the last of the playful mood like shattering glass. "What's this? A little sickbed party?" Her gaze raked over Haneul, taking in his concerned expression and their close proximity. "Who's your… friend, Jiwon? Another charity case you've brought into my house?"
Ji-won visibly flinched, his whole body going rigid. The small, vulnerable pout was gone, replaced by the old, familiar mask of ice. He didn't look at his mother. His eyes were fixed on a crack in the floor, his jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might break.
Haneul's laughter died instantly, replaced by a cold wave of protective anger. He felt Ji-won's hand, which had been resting on the blanket, curl into a fist. The warm, tender world they had built in the last hour had just been violently invaded, and the shadow of Ji-won's storm had returned, darker and colder than ever.
The woman's venomous words hung in the air, and Haneul, seeing the immediate, painful effect they had on Ji-won, saw red. He didn't know who this cruel, glamorous woman was, but he wouldn't let anyone talk to Ji-won like that.
He stood up, placing himself slightly in front of the couch, his fists clenched at his sides. "You can't talk to him that way!" Haneul's voice was shaking, but it was loud and clear. "He's sick! Who are you to just come in here and—"
"Haneul, don't," Ji-won's voice was a strained, desperate whisper from behind him. He tried to tug on Haneul's shirt, his strength feeble. "Just stop."
The woman—Mira—let out a sharp, ugly laugh. "Oh, he's a feisty one, isn't he? So this is the kind of company you keep now? Street rats who don't know their place?" She took a step closer, her eyes blazing with drunken fury. "This is my house! And I decide who gets to be here! You," she snarled, jabbing a perfectly manicured finger at Haneul, "get out! Now!"
"He's not going anywhere!" Ji-won's voice cracked as he tried to stand, his body trembling with the effort.
"Don't you dare defy me, you ungrateful brat!" Mira shrieked, her composure shattering completely. In a flash of movement, she lunged forward and grabbed Haneul's arm, her nails digging into his skin as she tried to physically drag him towards the door. "I said GET OUT!"
"Let go of him!" The words tore from Ji-won's throat, raw and guttural.
In that moment, something in him snapped. A lifetime of swallowed insults, of stolen money, of being called a burden and a mistake, all converged into a single, explosive act. He surged forward, his fever-forgotten, and shoved his mother back with a force that sent her stumbling against the wall.
The world froze. Mira stared at him, her eyes wide with pure, unadulterated shock.
Ji-won didn't even look at her. His breathing was ragged, his entire body shaking. He turned to a stunned Haneul, whose arm was now free, and grabbed his hand.
"We're leaving," Ji-won stated, his voice terrifyingly calm.
He didn't wait for a response. He just pulled Haneul with him, past his speechless mother, and out the door of the apartment that had never been a home, leaving the echo of his own rebellion and his mother's stunned silence behind them.
The moment they were out on the grimy street, Haneul's anger erupted. "Who does she think she is?! That horrible woman! How dare she treat you like that, especially when you're so sick! I've never seen anyone so—!"
"Haneul."
Ji-won's voice was quiet, but it cut through Haneul's tirade like a knife. He stopped walking, his body trembling not from anger, but from a profound exhaustion.
"She's my mother."
The words landed with the force of a physical blow. Haneul froze, his righteous fury evaporating into a cloud of stunned, heartbroken confusion. He stared at Ji-won, seeing the raw shame and pain in his downcast eyes. "Your… your mother?" he whispered, the world tilting on its axis. "But… but she…"
He couldn't finish. The pieces clicked into a devastating picture: the bleak apartment, the constant work, the walls Ji-won had built, the word "filth." It all made a terrible, tragic sense.
"I'm sorry," Haneul breathed, his voice thick with remorse. "Jiwon-ssi, I'm so sorry. I didn't know."
He guided a shaking Ji-won to a nearby bench in a small, neglected park. The evening air was turning cold. Seeing Ji-won shiver violently, Haneul immediately shrugged off his own jacket.
"Here," he said, draping it around Ji-won's shoulders.
Ji-won tried to weakly push it away. "No, you'll be cold."
"I'm fine," Haneul said, his tone leaving no room for argument. He firmly tucked the jacket around him. "You're sick."
Defeated, Ji-won slumped forward. With a trembling hand, he pulled a crumpled packet of cigarettes from his pocket. It was a habit Haneul didn't know he had.
Seeing this, Haneul instinctively shifted a few inches away on the bench, a subtle but clear reaction.
Ji-won's hand stilled. He looked at the cigarette, then at the space Haneul had created. Without a word, he put the cigarette back into the packet and shoved it deep into his pocket. Then, he slowly closed the distance Haneul had made, his shoulder pressing against Haneul's once more.
Haneul's heart squeezed. He let out a soft, watery giggle. "You do know how to be romantic," he whispered.
Ji-won didn't respond with words. He simply let his head fall, heavy and warm, onto Haneul's shoulder. He took a shaky, ragged breath.
"I love you so much, Haneul."
The confession was so quiet, so raw, it stole the air from Haneul's lungs. He froze, his eyes wide.
Before he could even process it, Ji-won spoke again, his voice cracking under the weight of a thousand unshed tears. "I love you so much. I can't… I can't live without you."
It was the most dramatic, heartfelt line Haneul had ever heard. A nervous, giddy giggle escaped him. "Wow… what a romantic line," he teased gently, trying to lighten the overwhelming moment. "Did you learn that from a movie?"
He glanced down, expecting to see Ji-won's usual stoic face. Instead, he saw a single tear trace a path through the fever-flush on Ji-won's cheek, followed by another. Ji-won wasn't just saying lines. He was breaking apart, and the words were the shattered pieces of his soul falling at Haneul's feet.
The laughter died in Haneul's throat. His own eyes filled with tears. He wrapped his arms tightly around Ji-won, holding him as the sobs he'd been holding back for years finally, silently, shook his frame. There were no more words, just the shelter of an embrace and the profound understanding that for Ji-won, love wasn't a feeling; it was a terrifying, desperate need, and he had just handed Haneul his entire, broken world.
Haneul held him tighter, his own heart breaking at the raw, shuddering sobs that wracked Ji-won's feverish body. He rocked him gently, as one would a frightened child.
"Shhh, it's okay," Haneul murmured into his hair, his voice a soft, steady anchor in the storm. "It's okay, Jiwon-ssi. You can cry. Let it all out. I've got you."
Ji-won's arms tightened around Haneul's waist, clinging with a desperate, bruising strength. He buried his face deeper into Haneul's neck, his words a hot, broken whisper against his skin. "Haneul… you don't understand. You don't know what you mean to me. You're the only… the only good thing. Never… never ever leave me." His voice hitched on a ragged sob. "Or I'll die. I think I would just die."
The sheer, stark desperation in those words sent a chill down Haneul's spine. He cupped Ji-won's face, forcing him to look up. "Don't," Haneul said, his voice firm yet trembling with emotion. "Don't you ever say that. Don't even think it, okay?"
Ji-won's eyes, usually so clear and guarded, were swimming in a sea of tears, red-rimmed and utterly lost. He looked like a different person—shattered and young and so, so scared.
Haneul's own vision blurred. He used the sleeve of his shirt to gently wipe the tears from Ji-won's cheeks, his touch infinitely tender. "Look at me," he whispered.
He leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to Ji-won's forehead, then to each of his damp eyelids, tasting the salt of his tears. Finally, he kissed his lips, a seal and a vow.
"I love you too," Haneul breathed against his mouth, the words full and sure. "I love you so, so much, Jiwon. I'll never, ever leave you. Okay? Never."
Ji-won searched his eyes, the desperation in his gaze so profound it was painful to behold. "Promise me," he begged, his voice a raw scrape. "Say it. Promise me."
Haneul's heart ached. He was seeing the fortress not just with a crack, but completely demolished, leaving behind the vulnerable, wounded boy who had been hiding inside all along. He framed Ji-won's face with both hands, holding his gaze.
"I promise," Haneul said, each word deliberate and heavy with meaning. "I, Lee Haneul, promise you, Han Ji-won, that I will never leave you. You're stuck with me. Forever."
A fresh wave of tears, these seeming of relief, welled in Ji-won's eyes. He didn't say anything more. He just let his head fall back onto Haneul's shoulder, his entire body going limp as the last of his resistance crumbled, finally allowing himself to be held, and to believe, in the safety of that promise.