Chapter 88
Two days had passed since Noeul arrived in Rothenburg, a small town steeped in medieval charm.
Well-preserved stone walls surrounded it, and colorful timber-framed houses lined its cobblestone streets.
On his first day, Noeul wandered through the famous Christmas shops and quiet gardens.
On the second, he explored the historic central square and clock tower.
Now it was seven in the evening, and he had just returned to his hotel room, a beautiful vintage space that felt suspended in time. A small box containing four Schneeballen and a cup of hot cappuccino waited untouched while he finished dressing after a long shower.
A knock at the door, soft and hesitant, stopped him mid-movement.
Noeul froze.
Could it really be him?
With trembling hands, he walked toward the door.
He opened it slowly. And there he was. Duri. Not a dream. Not a memory. Real.
Noeul felt his legs weaken. He had sworn to himself that he would stay composed. That he wouldn’t cry or embarrass himself the moment he saw him. Every promise disappeared.
Duri stood in the hallway just as shaken. His hair was a little longer, his face more mature, his shoulders broader beneath his winter coat, but his eyes, those deep, familiar green eyes, still carried the same warmth Noeul had dreamed of so many times.
For a long moment, neither of them moved. The hallway was unbearably quiet, filled only with Noeul’s uneven breathing.
“Noeul hyung,” Duri said softly, his voice rough and almost breaking.
Noeul’s eyes filled immediately. Duri was simply standing there. Waiting.
I can’t live ruled by fear. Not anymore.
Noeul stepped forward. Duri lifted his hand but stopped before touching him. That tiny hesitation nearly broke Noeul’s heart.
Noeul closed the remaining distance himself and slipped his fingers between Duri’s. The contact sent a quiet shock through his body. Warm. Familiar. Wanted.
Their fingers intertwined as if testing whether they still remembered each other. They did.
Suddenly, Noeul pulled him forward. Duri barely crossed the threshold before Noeul’s arms wrapped around him, dragging him into a desperate embrace. Duri stumbled slightly, kicking the door closed behind him, then held Noeul just as tightly.
Noeul buried his face against Duri’s shoulder. His scent was familiar. Painfully familiar. The same scent he had searched for in the hoodie he’d stolen before leaving Korea.
Duri buried his face against Noeul’s neck and breathed him in. “I can’t believe you’re really here.”
Noeul’s fingers tightened around the back of his coat. “You came.”
“Of course I came.”
They stayed like that for a long time, gently swaying in the center of the room, neither willing to be the first to let go.
When Noeul finally pulled back, tears were shining in Duri’s eyes. He laughed softly through his own. “You’re crying.”
“So are you.”
“I’m allowed.”
“And I’m not?”
“No.”
Duri laughed.
Noeul cupped Duri’s face between his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears. His fingertips explored him almost curiously: the warmth of his cheeks, the faint roughness along his jaw, the familiar line of his mouth.
Duri became completely still.
Noeul noticed. “You’re afraid to touch me.”
Duri’s expression changed. “I’m afraid of hurting you.”
“You won’t.”
“I don’t know that.”
“I do.” Noeul’s fingers slid into Duri’s hair. “I trust you.”
Duri closed his eyes briefly. “I missed you so much,” he whispered.
“I missed you too.”
Their breathing mingled. Only an inch separated their lips. Duri waited. Noeul understood the question without hearing it. This time, he answered by leaning forward.
Their lips met.
The first kiss was almost painfully gentle. Then Noeul kissed him again, harder.
Duri’s arm slid carefully around his waist, pulling him closer. Noeul felt the solid warmth of his body against his own. Instead of fear, heat rushed through him.
Duri immediately loosened his hold. “Too much?”
Noeul stared at him, breathing hard. “No.” He swallowed. “No. Don’t stop.”
This time, Duri kissed him with less restraint. Still careful, but hungry.
Noeul responded just as eagerly. His hands moved over Duri’s shoulders, his back, rediscovering a body he remembered but had never been allowed to know like this.
Duri’s mouth moved from his lips to his cheek, then his jaw. When his lips brushed Noeul’s neck, Noeul shivered. Duri stopped instantly.
Noeul almost laughed. “Duri.”
“Hmm?”
“If you stop every time I react to you, we’re going to be here until New Year.”
A surprised laugh escaped him. “I can live with that.”
“I can’t.”
Noeul caught the front of his shirt and pulled him back into another kiss. Duri made a quiet sound against his mouth, and something about hearing it, knowing he had caused it, sent warmth spreading through Noeul’s chest.
Duri’s hands settled at his waist. Noeul covered one with his own and guided it beneath the hem of his shirt.
For the briefest moment, his body remembered fear. His muscles tightened. Duri felt it immediately and stopped.
Noeul closed his eyes and breathed. Once. Twice.
Noeul opened his eyes. “I’m okay.”
“You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”
“I know.” Noeul touched his face. “I want this.”
He kissed him again.
Later, they found themselves sitting on the edge of the bed, knees touching, hands still unable to leave each other for long. Duri brushed a lock of damp hair away from Noeul’s forehead.
“Let’s just be here,” he said gently. “No rushing. We have time.”
Noeul studied him, then smiled. “You’ve been waiting for me for years, and you’re telling me not to rush?”
“I’d wait longer.”
“I know.”
He leaned forward and kissed Duri’s forehead. Duri’s eyes closed.
“I love you,” Noeul whispered against his skin.
Duri looked up sharply. Noeul smiled at his expression.
“I already wrote it to you. Don’t look so shocked.”
“Write it again.”
Noeul laughed. “Idiot.”
“Say it again, then.”
“I love you.”
Duri’s hand came to the back of his neck. “I love you too.”
Noeul’s smile softened. “Very much?”
“Painfully.”
“Good.”
He kissed him. “Ich liebe dich, Liebling.”
Duri stared at him.
Noeul burst out laughing. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re staring.”
“Your German is terrible.”
“Get out.”
Duri laughed and caught him around the waist before he could move, pulling him back against him. Their laughter disappeared into another kiss. Slower this time. Deeper.
Noeul’s fingers found the hem of Duri’s shirt and hesitated there. Then he pulled it upward. Duri helped him, tossing it somewhere behind them.
For a few seconds, Noeul simply looked. The tattoos he knew so well stretched across warm skin and muscle. He traced one slowly with his fingertips. “You have more.”
“A few.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
“I wanted you to find them yourself.”
Noeul raised an eyebrow. “Was that supposed to sound innocent?”
“No.”
They both laughed again. Noeul’s fingers moved over Duri’s tattoos, softly tracing their lines. Then his hand stopped. “Duri… This is the painting I sent you.”
Noeul drew a deep breath as warmth spread through him. “How? Why?”
Duri moved closer and held Noeul’s gaze. “You told me to look carefully.” His voice softened. “I did. And I found home in you.”
Noeul couldn’t find the words, so he leaned forward and kissed him.
Duri reached for Noeul’s undershirt but stopped. Noeul noticed the question in his eyes. He lifted his arms.
Duri pulled it carefully over his head.
Noeul stood bare-chested before him, suddenly conscious of every scar, every mark that remained. For a moment, the old instinct returned. Hide.
His arms almost crossed over his body, but Duri caught one of his hands instead. He didn’t stare at the scars. He didn’t pity him. He simply lifted Noeul’s hand to his lips and kissed his knuckles. Then his wrist.
Noeul’s throat tightened.
“You’re beautiful,” Duri said.
Noeul looked away. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Say things just because you think I need to hear them.”
Duri gently turned his face back. “I’ve thought you were beautiful since I was a teenager. Unfortunately, trauma didn’t cure me of having eyes.”
A laugh escaped Noeul before he could stop it. “Brat.”
Noeul kissed him again.
The remaining clothes disappeared slowly, between kisses, nervous laughter, questions, pauses, and hands learning where they were welcome.
When Duri touched him, Noeul discovered he could say slower. And Duri slowed.
He could say wait. And Duri waited.
He could pull him closer. And Duri came closer.
Later, they lay tangled beneath the sheets, warm and breathless, Noeul’s head resting against Duri’s chest. Duri’s fingers moved lazily through his hair.
Noeul listened to his heartbeat. Silence didn’t feel empty.
“I was afraid you’d forget me,” he admitted.
Duri’s hand stopped. “Forget you?”
“It was months, Duri.”
“I’ve been in love with you for years, hyung. A few months wasn’t going to fix me.”
Noeul smiled against his chest. “Poor thing.”
“Exactly. Have some sympathy.”
Noeul lifted himself enough to look at him. Duri’s green eyes met his. Noeul traced his cheek slowly. “I didn’t forget you either.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“You stole my hoodie.”
Noeul froze. Duri grinned. “You knew?”
“Of course I knew.”
“And you didn’t say anything?”
“I liked knowing you had something of mine.”
Noeul narrowed his eyes. “You’re disturbingly sentimental.”
“You wrote me a love letter from France.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“It just is.”
Duri laughed and pulled him closer. Noeul rested his head against his chest again. After a moment, he pressed a slow kiss over Duri’s heart.
“Never again,” he whispered.
Duri looked down at him. “Never again what?”
He intertwined their fingers beneath the blanket. “Never again will I leave without saying goodbye.”
Duri kissed the top of his head. “That I can accept.”
They fell asleep wrapped around each other, the months of separation finally behind them.
That night, Noeul made memories of his own.