CHAPTER 14
When Noeul first stepped over the threshold of Chung-Hee’s apartment, he realized they lived in two completely different worlds.
Chung-Hee resided in a three-bedroom penthouse in one of the most modern residential complexes in Cheongdam-dong.
Everything in his home looked expensive, from the limited-edition decor to the artwork covering the walls.
Noeul immediately recognized the distinctive work of Kija, one of his favorite artists.
Each painting cost millions of won, imposing and emotionally charged in a way Noeul had always admired.
For a moment, he forgot the awkwardness between them and stopped in front of one.
“I didn’t know you liked art.”
“There are many things you don’t know about me,” Chung-Hee replied coldly, already moving away.
Noeul followed him deeper into the apartment, his eyes wandering despite himself. Everything around him seemed carefully chosen and perfectly placed. There was very little that revealed anything about the man who lived there.
It was obvious Chung-Hee did not enjoy his presence. Then why had he brought him here?
Chung-Hee stopped in front of one of the bedrooms and opened the door.
“It’s late. This will be your room for now.
The antibiotics and painkillers are on the nightstand, along with a glass of water and a straw so you can drink comfortably.
I can’t help you with your bath, so you’ll have to be patient today.
Tomorrow, San will bring special shower protectors to keep your wounds dry, and I’ll hire a caregiver to assist you.
” His gaze dropped briefly to Noeul’s bandaged hands.
“I suppose you won’t be able to use them for a while. ”
Noeul looked around the room. Even the bedroom Chung-Hee had casually given him was probably worth more than anything he had ever owned. He hated how out of place he felt. More than that, he hated knowing he couldn’t leave even if he wanted to.
For the first time since arriving, the reality of his situation settled heavily over him. He couldn’t work. He couldn’t dress himself. Even opening a bottle of water had become something he needed another person to do.
And that person was Chung-Hee.
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
He tried to remove his hoodie, but the moment he attempted to pull at the fabric, pain shot through his hands. He stopped with a frustrated breath.
“Don’t thank me yet. I’m keeping track of every expense.”
The remark stung more than it should have. Perhaps because, only seconds earlier, he had almost allowed himself to believe Chung-Hee was simply being kind.
“I can do it,” Noeul muttered, trying again.
“You clearly can’t, so let me help.”
Chung-Hee stepped closer.
Noeul held his breath.
Carefully, Chung-Hee caught the bottom of the hoodie and pulled it upward, taking care not to touch his injured hands. Noeul lowered his head to make it easier, but when the fabric finally passed over him and he looked up again, Chung-Hee was much closer than he had expected.
Neither of them moved. Noeul could feel Chung-Hee’s breath against his skin. His heart began to race before he could stop it. Their gazes locked. For a few seconds, the apartment, his injuries, everything else seemed to disappear.
Then Chung-Hee coughed and stepped back. The distance returned as quickly as it had vanished. Noeul turned away, embarrassed by his own disappointment. He took a slow breath, trying to calm himself.
What was wrong with him? After everything that had happened between them, after everything connecting Chung-Hee to Haneul and Gong, how could his body still react to him this way?
“I appreciated your kindness,” he murmured, finally looking at him again. “Not your money.”
The response caught Chung-Hee off guard. For a moment, he said nothing.
“Tomorrow morning, we have an appointment with the orthopedist. He’ll monitor your recovery along with our family doctor.” His voice had softened. “Rest, Noeul.”
Noeul watched him turn toward the door. “Good night, hyung.”
Chung-Hee paused, but only for a second. “Good night.”
The door closed behind him.
Noeul remained standing in the unfamiliar bedroom. The room suddenly felt enormous around him. He looked at his bandaged hands and tried flexing his fingers beneath the dressings. He stopped immediately when his hands protested.
Two months ago, he had been living alone on the other side of the world. He had worked, cooked, painted. He hadn’t needed anyone. Now he couldn’t even take off his own clothes.
His gaze drifted toward the closed door.
And Chung-Hee, the last person he should have wanted anything from, had become the person he needed for almost everything.
Noeul sat carefully on the edge of the bed.
He didn’t know what frightened him more: depending on Chung-Hee… or the fact that some part of him didn’t entirely hate it.
Perhaps it was the medication. Perhaps the jet lag. Perhaps his body had simply reached its limit.
He lay down.
Sleep wrapped around him before he could think any further, silent, dreamless, and empty.