CHAPTER 35
For several seconds after the door closed, neither man moved.
Chung-Hee looked at Noeul. He had expected him to collapse after his mother’s attack, perhaps apologize, perhaps blame himself the way he always did.
Instead, Noeul stood completely still. His hands trembled inside his coat pockets, and silent tears streaked his face, but there was something different beneath the pain.
He had fought back.
I didn’t kill Haneul.
Chung-Hee had never heard him say those words before.
“Noeul.”
No response.
Chung-Hee moved closer, then stopped. Only a few steps separated them. “Are you okay?”
Noeul gave a small, broken laugh. “No.”
Chung-Hee’s expression softened.
“No,” Noeul repeated. “I’m really not.” His strength seemed to disappear with the admission. He covered his face with both hands. “She’s right about one thing.”
Chung-Hee’s jaw tightened. “She isn’t.”
Noeul lowered his hands. His eyes were red. “She thinks I’ll destroy you.”
“She’s wrong.”
“What if she isn’t?”
Chung-Hee stepped closer. Noeul didn’t retreat, but his body stiffened. Chung-Hee noticed and stopped again.
“Don’t take my mother’s words too seriously,” he said, his voice quieter. “She’s grieving. She’s angry.”
Noeul stared at the floor. “She used to love me.” His voice cracked. “And now she looks at me like she wishes I had died instead.”
Chung-Hee didn’t know how to reply.
Noeul wiped his face with the back of his hand. “I told her I didn’t kill Haneul.”
“Yes.”
“But part of me still thinks I did.”
Chung-Hee slowly opened his arms. Noeul looked at him. Chung-Hee waited. He didn’t move closer. After several seconds, Noeul crossed the distance himself and rested his forehead against Chung-Hee’s chest. Chung-Hee wrapped his arms around him carefully.
“She was wrong about you,” he whispered.
Noeul’s fingers tightened around the fabric of his shirt. “Then why did you believe the same thing?”
The question struck without warning. Chung-Hee went still.
Noeul pulled back enough to look at him. “You believed I was responsible too.”
Chung-Hee opened his mouth, but nothing came.
“You hurt me because of it.”
Chung-Hee looked away. “I know.”
Noeul studied him for a long moment. It wasn’t an apology. But it was the first time Chung-Hee hadn’t defended himself.
“I need to go home.”
Chung-Hee looked back at him. “I’ll take you.”
“No.” The answer came immediately. “I need to go alone.”
“Noeul.”
“I need some time.”
“Why?”
Noeul sighed. “Because I can’t think when I’m with you.”
Chung-Hee’s lips parted slightly.
Noeul stepped away.
“I kissed you today,” Noeul whispered.
Chung-Hee’s gaze returned to him.
“And I wanted to.”
Hope stirred in Chung-Hee.
“But I’m scared of you too.”
The hope vanished.
Noeul swallowed. “I want you close, and then I remember what you did and I want to run. I need to breathe, hyung.”
“I don’t understand you.”
“I don’t understand myself! That’s the problem!”
Silence filled the room.
Noeul rubbed both hands over his face. “I’m exhausted. I can’t take any more today. I feel like I’ll go mad.” His voice dropped. “Please, hyung. Just let me leave.”
Chung-Hee knew what he should do. Let him go. He had seen the fear in Noeul’s eyes. He had heard him say it. But watching Noeul turn away awakened something darker than reason: the fear of losing him. Of watching him walk toward Duri. Toward a life that did not include Chung-Hee.
He recognized the pattern even as it formed: fear became anger, and anger offered him the illusion of control. He could let Noeul walk away. Instead, he stepped forward and caught him around the waist.
Noeul gasped.
Chung-Hee pulled him back against his chest.
Noeul struggled. “Let go.”
“In this life and the next,” Chung-Hee whispered against his hair, “you belong only to me.”
Noeul went still. Not because the words moved him, but because he finally heard them for what they were. Possession. He pushed against Chung-Hee’s arms.
“I belong to myself.”
Chung-Hee tightened his hold.
“Let me go.”
“No.”
Noeul stopped struggling.
“Do you hear yourself?”
Chung-Hee said nothing.
“You say you care about me.”
“I do.”
“You say you want me.”
“More than anything.”
“Then why does what you want always matter more than what I ask for?”
Chung-Hee froze.
Noeul’s breathing trembled. “I asked you to let me go.”
Silence.
“I asked you nicely.”
Chung-Hee’s arms slowly loosened.
Noeul immediately stepped away. He shook his head. “Maybe your mother is right. Maybe being together will destroy both of us.”
“She isn’t right.”
“I don’t know anymore.” Noeul backed toward the elevator. “I need to breathe.”
Chung-Hee took a step after him.
Noeul flinched. “Please.”
Chung-Hee stopped.
Noeul pressed the elevator button. Neither spoke while they waited. The doors opened, and Noeul stepped inside.
Before they closed, he looked at Chung-Hee one last time.
Chung-Hee remained where he was. The apartment felt impossibly quiet. His gaze drifted toward the painting that had started the afternoon. Only hours earlier, Noeul had stood before it smiling, his face bright with excitement.
So why, whenever Noeul tried to leave, did affection become anger? Why did wanting him become needing to control him?
Chung-Hee slowly sat on the edge of the couch.
Noeul’s words repeated in his mind.
Then why does what you want always matter more than what I ask for?
He had no answer.
What if love wasn’t the only thing holding him to Noeul?
Was it love, or need?