Yun spent the rest of the day distracted.
He miscounted change twice at work, nearly spilled coffee on a customer, and forgot an order completely—something he almost never did. His mind kept circling back to the same calm voice, the same dark eyes that looked at him as if they carried memories Yun wasn't allowed to see.
You cry in your sleep.
The words wouldn't leave him alone.
He had locked his door last night. Always did.
No one should know that.
When his shift finally ended, the sky had already dimmed into evening. Yun stepped outside, the cool air brushing against his face. He let out a quiet sigh, hoping the walk home would clear his thoughts.
It didn't.
He sensed the presence before he saw him.
The man stood near the corner of the street, leaning casually against a lamppost as if he belonged there. When Yun approached, their eyes met instantly—no surprise, no hesitation.
As if the man had been waiting.
Yun slowed, then stopped a few steps away. "You're… here again."
"Yes."
No excuses. No lies.
That honesty made it hard to stay guarded.
"Why?" Yun asked softly. "You barely know me."
The man straightened, closing the distance just enough for Yun to feel the warmth of his presence. Not overwhelming. Not threatening.
"I know you better than you think," he said. Then, as if realizing how that sounded, he added gently, "But I don't expect you to accept that."
Yun studied him in the fading light. Up close, the man looked even more composed—controlled in a way that suggested restraint, not coldness.
"…What's your name?" Yun asked.
For a moment, the man said nothing.
Then he smiled—small, genuine, almost relieved.
"Call me Aran."
The name stirred something deep inside Yun's chest.
Not recognition.
Longing.
"It's nice to meet you, Aren," Yun said, polite as ever.
Aren's gaze softened. "It is."
They stood there in silence, the city humming around them. Yun realized, distantly, that he wasn't afraid. Cautious, yes—but not uneasy.
That scared him more.
"I should go," Yun said finally.
Aren nodded. "I know."
"You keep saying that."
"I do." Aren's voice was quiet. "I'm trying to stop."
Yun let out a breath that was almost a laugh. "You're strange."
"I've been called worse."
Yun hesitated, then asked the question that had been sitting on his tongue all day. "Did we really meet before?"
Aren looked at him for a long moment.
"Yes," he said. "But not in a way you'd remember."
Yun's fingers tightened around the strap of his bag. "Then why are you here now?"
Aran stepped back, giving Yun space—always space.
"Because you're alive," he answered simply. "And that's enough for me."
Yun didn't know what to say to that.
When he finally turned to leave, he felt Aren's gaze on his back—steady, protective, unwavering.
Aran watched until Yun disappeared into his apartment building.
Only then did his calm expression crack.
He pressed a hand over his chest, breath slow but heavy.
So close.
Still so gentle.
Just like before.
"This time," Aran murmured to the empty street, "I'll do it right."
To be continued....