Chapter 13

“Get some rest—I’ll wash up quickly too.” Brushing past him toward the bathroom, Je-hee stole one last glance at that damp collarbone and silently questioned his own sanity in suggesting a motel. With his freshly trimmed bangs falling softly across his forehead, Si-woon looked younger and far less guarded than usual, and Je-hee’s self-control was hanging by a thread.

After showering in record time, Je-hee dried his hair thoroughly in front of the mirror and tied his own bathrobe sash in a double knot before stepping back into the bedroom—where he found Si-woon standing indecisively beside the small armchair in the corner.

“What are you doing over there?” Je-hee asked in disbelief.

“Uh, I thought I should… leave the bed for you so you can sleep comfortably.”

“What are you talking about? The bed is huge—come over here.” Lifting the corner of the duvet, Je-hee waited until Si-woon finally abandoned the chair and climbed hesitantly onto the far edge of the mattress. “We’re both worn out tonight. Let’s just lie down and rest for a while.”

“I’ll set an alarm so we don’t oversleep.”

Watching Si-woon set a phone alarm for precisely two hours later before placing the device on the nightstand, Je-hee felt a mixture of fond amusement and quiet exasperation. Even lying side by side in a motel bed during a blizzard, Seo Si-woon was determined to treat the night like a scheduled break on the clock.

Once the lights were off and they lay flat on their backs beneath the duvet, Je-hee could practically feel the rigid tension radiating from the other side of the mattress. Shifting an inch closer so the side of his thigh brushed lightly against Si-woon’s, Je-hee felt the younger man freeze and immediately edge away toward the far rim of the bed. A moment later, Je-hee shifted another fraction closer; again Si-woon scooted away.

“Ahem…” Biting back a laugh in the dark as his shoulders shook against the pillow, Je-hee closed the remaining distance and let his fingertips brush lightly over the back of Si-woon’s hand beneath the covers. “It’s all right if we touch a little, you know.”

For a beat Si-woon went completely still; then, after a quiet intake of breath, he turned his wrist and rested his warm palm over the back of Je-hee’s hand.

Delighted, Je-hee turned his own palm upward underneath and laced their fingers loosely together, letting out a soft chuckle in the dark. Even as Si-woon’s pulse beat rapidly against his palm, the younger man didn’t pull his hand back.

“Still… shouldn’t we check the road and get going soon?” Si-woon murmured as drowsiness began to thicken his voice.

“It’s the middle of the night, and the snow hasn’t let up. Why don’t we just sleep until morning?” Using his free hand, Je-hee patted Si-woon’s shoulder lightly over the duvet. “It’s no different from when you sleep over at my place.”

When Si-woon still sounded hesitant, Je-hee decided it was time to deploy his trump card. It felt slightly underhanded to use food as bait, but if nothing else would convince this dutiful man to switch off his two-hour alarm and sleep properly until morning, he had no choice.

“Do you like kalguksu, Si-woon-ssi?” Je-hee asked out of nowhere.

“Kalguksu?” Si-woon’s drowsy voice carried a note of puzzlement at the sudden change of subject.

“Yeah. There’s a restaurant right near this interchange that’s famous for its clam kalguksu. The broth is incredible.”

“…”

“Their fresh geotjeori kimchi is fantastic, too—really crisp and spicy. And they serve it with platters of tender boiled pork.”

Through the quiet of the dark room, Je-hee heard an unmistakable swallow from the pillow beside him. Si-woon didn’t say a word, yet the quality of his silence had shifted completely; Je-hee could practically see him picturing a steaming bowl of hand-cut noodles alongside slices of warm bossam pork.

“Since we’re already right here,” Je-hee added casually, “I thought we could sleep in and have an early lunch there before heading back tomorrow.”

“…I’ll pay for the kalguksu, then.”

Got him. Curling his free hand into a silent fist under the covers, Je-hee was profoundly grateful for the dark; if Si-woon had caught the size of his grin right now, the man would have marched straight out to the car snowstorm or not.

“You turned off that alarm you set earlier, right?”

“…I’ll switch it off now.”

As Si-woon reached over to tap his phone screen on the nightstand, Je-hee’s shoulders shook with silent laughter. Without thinking, he lifted his hand to smooth down the soft, newly trimmed hair at the crown of Si-woon’s head—then froze and started to draw his hand back, afraid he had overstepped.

“…You can keep doing that.”

Wait—what? Was Si-woon saying things like that on purpose now? Here Je-hee had fancied himself the clever schemer tonight, and with five quiet words Si-woon had turned the tables on him completely. Letting his hand settle gently back into Si-woon’s hair, Je-hee closed his eyes and surrendered to defeat with a full heart.

* * *

“It really is good, isn’t it?”

Looking across the restaurant table the next day at the small mountain of empty clam shells piled beside Si-woon’s bowl, Je-hee smiled in satisfaction. Bringing Si-woon to a good restaurant was endlessly rewarding simply because of how wholeheartedly the man appreciated every bite.

Pausing with a slice of boiled pork and fresh spicy kimchi halfway to his mouth, Si-woon glanced down at the table and looked sheepish. “Um… you should eat some too, Je-hee-ssi.”

“I’m already full, honestly.”

“…?” Si-woon stared at the barely touched portion in Je-hee’s bowl in frank bewilderment.

“I’ve never had a very big appetite,” Je-hee explained lightly. Eating, to him, had always been more about fueling his body than taking pleasure in food—which made watching Si-woon relish every mouthful all the more charming. Clearing his throat before Si-woon could feel self-conscious about finishing the platter, Je-hee mentioned something he had been meaning to bring up since the night before. “Oh—I meant to tell you earlier. It looks like we probably won’t be able to see each other for a couple of weeks.”

“Pardon?” Si-woon looked up sharply from the last of his noodles.

“I don’t have any provincial field assignments on the schedule for the next two weeks.”

“Ah…”

Si-woon’s gaze dropped back to the table, his expression unreadable. Without a business trip or a late company dinner, they had no practical pretext to meet. Much as Je-hee had cherished sharing the motel room and holding hands through the night, he remembered all too clearly how badly he had rattled Si-woon at the café when he pushed too fast. For a little while, he intended to give the man breathing room rather than invent transparent excuses to summon him. Is he disappointed, or relieved? Unable to tell from Si-woon’s lowered lashes—and lacking the nerve to ask outright—Je-hee watched him set his chopsticks neatly across his bowl and wipe his mouth with a napkin.

“…If you’re finished, shall we head out?”

Several mouthfuls of noodles still remained at the bottom of Si-woon’s bowl, though the man almost never left food behind. Wondering if the news had spoiled his appetite, Je-hee followed him out the door into the dazzling midday glare, where their shoes sank ankle-deep into the fresh drifts that had piled up overnight.

“…Thank you, Je-hee-ssi,” Si-woon said quietly, looking out toward the snow-covered highway beyond the lot.

“For what?”

“For suggesting we stop last night.” Had they tried to push through to Yeonghyeon in the dark, they easily could have skidded off the icy road, and Si-woon’s tone made it clear he knew Je-hee had stopped for his sake.

“I’m the one who should be thanking you,” Je-hee replied, turning a warm smile on him before extending an open palm between them for half a second—only to flex his fingers and tuck his hand back into his coat pocket with a light, self-conscious laugh. “Not out here in broad daylight, I suppose?”

“…?”

Without a word, Si-woon pulled his own hand from his coat pocket and held it out. Staring down at the offered palm and then up at Si-woon’s face in startled delight, Je-hee saw the younger man’s cheeks flush crimson as he hurriedly turned his face toward the parked car.

“In case you slip on the ice,” Si-woon muttered to the snowbank ahead of them. “Just until we reach the car…”

Taking hold of his hand at once, Je-hee grinned. “I have a terrible sense of balance on ice, actually. Would it be all right if we laced our fingers together so I don’t fall?”

“…Yes.”

“Linking arms would be pushing my luck, wouldn’t it?”

“…”

Si-woon shot him a silent, warning look for testing his limits, though he didn’t loosen his grip on Je-hee’s fingers until they reached the car doors.

* * *

I wonder how he’s doing.

More than two weeks had crawled by since their snowy drive back from the provinces. Was Si-woon eating proper meals at lunch instead of cheap fast-food sets? Had his trimmed bangs grown back out over his brows? Sitting at his office desk, Je-hee propped his chin in his palm and let out a long sigh, glaring at the wall calendar beside his monitor. The squares for the entire month were infuriatingly blank—not a single provincial inspection or client dinner in sight. I’ve genuinely lost my mind. What sane office worker sat around praying for exhausting out-of-town business trips and mandatory drinking sessions?

“…”

Turning his gaze from the calendar to his silent phone, Je-hee resisted the urge to pick it up. He could always call Si-woon without an excuse, of course, yet the memory of his premature confession at the café kept his hand in check. Over the past month, he had unmistakably felt Si-woon taking small, cautious steps toward him—holding his hand in the motel bed, reaching out in the snow outside the kalguksu restaurant—and this time, Je-hee wanted to wait without crowding him.

Still, how can someone’s hand feel so familiar in mine when I know almost nothing about how he spends his ordinary days? The ache beneath his ribs refused to subside. When one person fell first and fell harder, waiting was simply part of the bargain. If Si-woon thought of him even once or twice during these two weeks apart, Je-hee decided he would count that as progress.

* * *