Without a word, his face a mask of grim determination, Taekyun carefully scooped Rinwoo into his arms. He did it with a surprising, innate gentleness, as if handling something infinitely precious. Rinwoo, too startled and in pain to protest, could only loop an arm around his neck for balance.
Taekyun carried him effortlessly up the stairs to his apartment, his movements sure and steady. He shouldered the door open and went straight to the sofa, lowering Rinwoo onto the cushions as if he were made of glass.
"Stay there," Taekyun commanded, his voice tight with worry. He looked around, his eyes scanning the room frantically. "Where do you keep the first aid kit?"
"In the kitchen," Rinwoo said, his voice a little breathless. "The bottom drawer next to the fridge."
Taekyun was across the room in an instant, yanking the drawer open and retrieving the white plastic box. He hurried back, dropping to his knees on the floor in front of the sofa, his expensive trousers be damned.
He opened the kit with practiced efficiency, his hands moving with a purpose Rinwoo had never seen in him before. He found the swelling spray and a bandage.
"Let me see," he murmured, his voice softening. He gently took Rinwoo's injured foot in his hands.
Rinwoo winced as Taekyun's fingers brushed the swollen, tender flesh. Taekyun immediately looked up, his eyes wide with alarm. "Does it hurt? I'm sorry."
He was so focused, so utterly absorbed in the task. He carefully sprayed the cool mist onto the swelling, his touch feather-light as he massaged it in with a circular motion that was both clinical and incredibly tender.
"Tell me if it's too much," he whispered, his gaze fixed on Rinwoo's ankle, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Is this okay?"
He kept asking, his voice a low, constant murmur of concern. "Is the pressure alright? Does it feel any better?"
Rinwoo watched him, utterly transfixed. This was the man who had once ignored his very existence for days on end. The man who had forgotten his birthday, who had let him eat dinner alone in a cavernous house night after night. Now, he was on his knees, treating a twisted ankle as if it were a life-threatening injury, his entire world narrowed to this one, small point of contact.
Rinwoo felt something dangerous and long-dormant flutter deep within his chest. It was a feeling he had sworn to never feel for this man again. He bit his lip, forcing the emotion down, and simply gave a small, tight nod.
"It's fine," he said, his voice barely a whisper, betraying nothing of the storm raging inside his heart.
The click of the first aid box lid was almost silent. But as Taekyun went to close it, his gaze snagged on a small, familiar prescription bottle tucked in the corner. Anxiety Medication.
His hand stilled. The air in the room suddenly felt heavier. He looked up at Rinwoo, his eyes filled with a pained hesitation.
"Do you... do you still need these?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile peace.
Rinwoo followed his gaze to the pills. A shadow passed over his face before he looked away, out the window. "No," he said, his tone deliberately flat. "It's for an emergency. The doctor said to keep them... just in case."
Just in case. The words were a dull blade twisting in Taekyun's heart. A permanent reminder that the damage he'd caused was not fully healed, that it lurked just beneath the surface of Rinwoo's newfound peace, waiting for a trigger. He was the trigger.
He quickly closed the box, the sound final. He stood up, his legs feeling unsteady, and walked to the kitchen on autopilot. He filled a glass with cold water, his hands trembling slightly. When he returned, he held out the glass and two painkillers. "For the swelling," he said, his voice rough.
Rinwoo took them silently, swallowing the pills without meeting his eyes. After a moment, he spoke, his voice firm. "You should go now. Thank you for your help."
Taekyun shook his head, a frantic energy taking hold of him. "How can I leave you like this? You can't even walk."
"Jihoon will be back from university soon. He can help me. Don't worry."
But the thought of leaving, of walking out that door and returning to the silent emptiness of his own life, was suddenly unbearable. The sight of the anxiety pills, the memory of Rinwoo falling, the feel of him in his arms—it all coalesced into a desperate, overwhelming need.
He didn't just hesitate. He dropped to his knees on the floor in front of the sofa, his hands coming up to rest on the cushion on either side of Rinwoo, putting himself at his complete mercy. His eyes, wide and pleading, looked up at the man he loved.
"Then come with me," Taekyun begged, the words tumbling out in a raw, emotional rush. "Please. Just for a little while. Until you're better. My place has an elevator. You won't have to climb stairs. I'll... I'll sleep on the floor. You won't even have to see me if you don't want to. But let me take care of you. Please. Just... come with me."
It was no longer about a dinner invitation. It was a plea for a chance to atone, for a few stolen days to prove he could be different. He was on his knees, not in a grand hall, but in a small apartment, offering not his wealth, but his desperate, unwavering devotion.
The silence stretched, thin and taut as a wire. Rinwoo could feel the weight of Taekyun's plea, the raw need in his eyes. It was a dangerous current, and he knew if he stepped into it, he might be swept away.
"No, Taekyun," Rinwoo said, his voice firm but laced with a weariness that betrayed his own internal struggle. "I'm fine here. Jihoon will be back. There's no need for… all of this. You don't need to worry."
But Taekyun didn't move from his knees. Instead, his shoulders slumped, and a broken sound escaped him. He reached out, his hand hovering just above Rinwoo's, not daring to touch.
"Please," he whispered, the word cracking. "You say you're fine, but you're hurt. And it's my fault. All of it. Every single pain you feel, it leads back to me." He looked up, his eyes swimming in unshed tears. "For two years, I've done nothing but watch from a distance, dying a little every day knowing I was the reason you needed that," he gestured weakly towards the first aid kit, "those pills. Let me do this one thing. Let me carry this one burden for you."
He leaned forward, his forehead nearly touching the sofa cushion, his voice dropping to a raw, shattered whisper.
"I'm begging you, Rinwoo. Don't make me walk out that door knowing I'm leaving you in pain and alone. I can't… I can't survive it again. Just for a few days. Give me this. Please."
The vulnerability was absolute. This wasn't the man who had once commanded boardrooms; this was a soul laid bare, shattered by regret. The walls Rinwoo had so carefully built around his heart felt suddenly fragile, trembling under the onslaught of such desperate, genuine sorrow.
He looked down at the man groveling at his feet, and the last of his resistance crumbled. It wasn't about forgiveness. It was about a shared, unbearable weight.
A long, slow sigh escaped him, the sound of surrender.
"Fine," Rinwoo whispered, the word feeling like both a defeat and a beginning. "A few days."
The relief that washed over Taekyun's face was so profound it was almost painful to witness. He nodded, a tear finally tracing a path down his cheek as he bowed his head, his entire body shuddering with the force of his gratitude.
"Thank you," he choked out, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you."
Rinwoo shifted, preparing to stand and hobble to his room to pack a bag, but Taekyun was already moving. In one fluid motion, he scooped Rinwoo back into his arms, as if he weighed nothing more than the bags of flour from earlier.
"W-what are you doing?" Rinwoo stammered, his hands instinctively coming up to rest on Taekyun's shoulders for balance.
"You said you'd come," Taekyun stated, his voice low and resolute, already carrying him towards the door. "I'll get you anything you need."
"I need to get my things from my room," Rinwoo insisted, a flicker of frustration cutting through his confusion.
Taekyun didn't even break stride. "I'll buy you new ones," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. It wasn't a flashy boast, but a simple, stark declaration of his intent to provide every single thing, no matter how small.
He carried Rinwoo down the stairs with careful precision, his grip firm and secure. He managed to open the car door and gently deposited Rinwoo into the passenger seat, buckling the seatbelt for him as if he were something precious and fragile. The entire drive to his penthouse was spent in a tense, heavy silence, Rinwoo staring out the window at a city that suddenly looked unfamiliar.
When they arrived, Taekyun once again lifted him into his arms, bypassing the opulent lobby and taking a private elevator directly to the top floor. The penthouse was a study in minimalist luxury, all cool marble, floor-to-ceiling windows, and stark, expensive furniture. It felt more like a museum than a home, devoid of any personal touch.
Without hesitation, Taekyun carried him straight through the living area and into the master bedroom. The room was dominated by a large, low platform bed with immaculate white linens. He laid Rinwoo down on it with an almost reverent care, the soft fabric a stark contrast to the worn cushions of his own sofa.
"There," Taekyun said, his voice barely a whisper as he straightened up, looking down at Rinwoo lying in the center of his bed. "You'll be comfortable here."
The act was one of overwhelming possession and care, a dizzying contradiction that left Rinwoo breathless. He had been whisked away from his own life and placed in the heart of Taekyun's sterile world, with nothing but the clothes on his back and the echo of a promise to buy him "new ones." He was a guest, a patient, and a prisoner all at once, trapped not by locks, but by the desperate, heartbreaking intensity of a love that had finally learned how to hold on.
The sterile grandeur of the penthouse was oppressive. Rinwoo sat propped up on the impossibly soft bed, trying to maintain a facade of icy indifference. Taekyun, however, was a whirlwind of nervous energy.
"Are you thirsty? I have water. Sparkling? Still? Imported?" Taekyun asked, hovering by the bedside.
"Tap water is fine," Rinwoo said, his voice flat.
Taekyun disappeared and returned moments later with a crystal glass of water on a small silver tray. Rinwoo almost rolled his eyes.
Next, Taekyun fussed with the pillows, fluffing them and adjusting them behind Rinwoo's back with a concentration usually reserved for defusing bombs. "Is that angle okay? Too high? Too low?"
"It's a pillow, Taekyun. It's fine."
Undeterred, Taekyun then proceeded to drag an absurdly plush armchair from the corner of the room, grunting with the effort, and placed it directly next to the bed. "In case you need anything. I'll be right here."
"I'm not an invalid. I just twisted my ankle."
But Taekyun wasn't listening. He had moved on to the temperature controls, fiddling with the thermostat. "Is it too cold? You might be cold. I'll turn it up."
Rinwoo watched him pace, a man used to commanding billions now utterly flustered by the simple act of caring for one person. He was trying so hard, so clumsily, it was almost painful to watch.
The climax of his silliness came when he returned from the kitchen, holding a banana and a bottle of milk with a look of profound seriousness.
"The doctor on the internet said potassium is good for healing," he announced, presenting the banana like a sacred offering. "And calcium from the milk. For your bones."
He stood there, holding the banana and milk, his hair slightly mussed from all his frantic activity, his expensive sweater sleeves pushed up, looking more like a lost, overeager puppy than the ruthless heir of a conglomerate.
Rinwoo stared at him. He looked at the banana, then at the milk, then at Taekyun's utterly sincere, worried face. A small, traitorous sound escaped his lips. It was a hiccup, then a choked gasp, and then, despite his very best efforts, a genuine, warm laugh bubbled up and out of him.
It was just a chuckle, soft and breathy, but it filled the silent, sterile room like sunlight.
Taekyun froze, the banana and milk forgotten in his hands. He stared at Rinwoo, his eyes wide with wonder, as if he had just witnessed a miracle. A slow, hesitant, but incredibly hopeful smile spread across his own face.
"You... you laughed," he whispered, his voice full of awe.
Rinwoo's laughter faded, but a small, reluctant smile remained on his lips as he shook his head. "You're ridiculous," he said, but the coldness was gone from his voice, replaced by a fond, weary amusement.
For Taekyun, those two words—you're ridiculous—felt more like an "I love you" than anything he had ever heard. He stood there, holding his banana and milk, beaming like a fool, his heart feeling lighter than it had in years.
The evening light was fading, casting long shadows across the penthouse bedroom. Rinwoo woke from a deep, unexpected nap, disoriented for a moment before the dull throb in his ankle reminded him where he was. A more pressing need quickly asserted itself. He needed to use the bathroom.
Glancing around, he saw the empty armchair and remembered Taekyun had mumbled something about getting supplies before he'd dozed off. Good. He could manage this on his own and avoid another scene.
He carefully swung his legs over the side of the bed, hissing as his injured foot touched the floor. Using the bedpost, then a nearby dresser, he hobbled on one leg towards the en-suite bathroom, leaning heavily against the wall for support. He made it inside and closed the door, leaning against it with a sigh of relief.
The final stretch across the slick marble floor to the toilet was the real challenge. Taking a deep breath, he pushed off the door and hopped. His good leg landed awkwardly on the smooth surface. His balance wavered precariously. His arms flailed, grabbing for nothing but air.
With a cry of surprise and pain, he fell forward. His shoulder slammed into the cold, hard edge of the freestanding bathtub, and his temple connected with a sickening thud against the porcelain. He crumpled to the floor, seeing stars, a sharp, radiating pain blooming across his forehead and a deep ache settling in his shoulder. He clutched his head, a groan escaping his lips.
---
At that exact moment, the front door of the penthouse opened. Taekyun stepped inside, his arms laden with shopping bags from expensive boutiques. He had bought everything he could think of—soft pajamas, cozy sweaters, toiletries, books, snacks. He even had a new, top-of-the-line first aid kit.
"Rinwoo? I'm back," he called out, his voice echoing slightly in the vast space.
Silence.
A prickle of alarm ran down his spine. He dropped the bags unceremoniously onto the marble floor, the contents spilling out. "Rinwoo?"
He hurried into the bedroom. The bed was empty. The panic began to rise, cold and sharp. Then he heard it—a faint, pained groan coming from the bathroom.
"Rinwoo!"
He didn't knock. He threw the bathroom door open, his heart hammering against his ribs.
The sight that greeted him sent a jolt of pure terror through his system. Rinwoo was on the floor, curled slightly, one hand clutching his head, his face pale and contorted in pain. A angry red bruise was already blossoming on his temple.
In two long strides, Taekyun was on his knees beside him, his hands fluttering, afraid to touch and cause more pain.
"Rinwoo! Oh god, what happened? Are you okay? Talk to me, please!" His voice was high with fear. Gently, he pried Rinwoo's hand away from his forehead to see the damage. The bruise was dark and prominent.
Rinwoo winced, blinking up at him, his eyes glassy with pain and embarrassment. "I... I fell," he mumbled. "I lost my balance."
Taekyun's face crumpled. The guilt was a physical weight crushing his chest. He had left him alone. He had failed, again.
Without a word, his own hands trembling, he carefully slid one arm under Rinwoo's back and the other under his knees. He lifted him from the cold floor, holding him close, cradling his head against his shoulder to protect the injured temple.
"I'm sorry," Taekyun choked out, his voice thick with emotion as he carried him back to the bed. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have left you. I'll never leave you alone again. I'm so sorry."
He laid Rinwoo down with unbearable gentleness, his touch a stark contrast to the violent fear in his eyes. In that moment, the shopping, the penthouse, the money—none of it mattered. All that existed was the man in front of him, hurt because of his absence, and the devastating, all-consuming need to make it right.
After Taekyun had meticulously cleaned the bruise on Rinwoo's temple and re-wrapped his ankle with a tenderness that was almost surgical, a heavy blanket of embarrassment settled over Rinwoo. He sat propped against the mountain of pillows, refusing to meet Taekyun's gaze, feeling utterly foolish.
The sterile silence of the penthouse was suddenly shattered by the cheerful, blaring ringtone Rinwoo had assigned to Jihoon. Rinwoo fumbled for his phone, his cheeks flushing.
He swiped to answer. "Jihoon-ah?"
"HYUNG!" Jihoon's voice exploded from the speaker, loud enough for Taekyun to hear from where he was nervously straightening the already-perfect stack of new clothes. "Where are you?! I came back and the café is dark and your apartment is empty! Did you finally get kidnapped by a sugar daddy? Do I need to call the police? Or... congratulations?"
Rinwoo winced, holding the phone slightly away from his ear. "No! No, I'm not kidnapped. And no congratulations."
"Then where are you? You sound weird. Are you crying? Did something happen?"
"I... I just had a little accident," Rinwoo admitted, his voice small.
"Accident? What kind of accident? A car? A baking-related disaster? Did you get your hand stuck in the industrial mixer again?"
"No! Nothing like that," Rinwoo said, his embarrassment deepening. He glanced at Taekyun, who was now pretending to be intensely interested in the label of a bottle of water. "I, uh... I fell. In the cafe."
There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line.
"You... fell in the cafe," Jihoon repeated, deadpan. Then, his voice lifted with gleeful, dramatic understanding. "OH! I get it! You're at his place! The rich, mysterious, secretly-pining bench guy! And you fell! Was it a graceful, damsel-in-distress faint into his arms? Or more of a clumsy, slapstick routine?"
"It was not a routine!" Rinwoo hissed, his face now burning crimson. He could see Taekyun's shoulders shaking with silent laughter.
"Sure, sure," Jihoon cackled. "Well, tell your knight in shining Armani that if he doesn't feed you properly, he'll have to answer to me! And send me a picture of the bruise! I need proof for the story I'm already writing in my head! Bye, Hyung! Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"
Before Rinwoo could protest, Jihoon hung up, leaving him staring at his phone in mortified silence.
The room was quiet again, save for the faint sound of the city below. Then, a soft, unmistakable snort came from Taekyun's direction.
Rinwoo looked up. Taekyun had his hand over his mouth, but his eyes were crinkled at the corners, full of mirth.
"Don't you dare," Rinwoo warned, but there was no real heat in it.
Taekyun lowered his hand, a warm, open smile on his face—the first truly unburdened one Rinwoo had seen in years. "A clumsy, slapstick routine, huh?" he quoted, his voice gentle and teasing.
A reluctant smile tugged at Rinwoo's own lips. The sheer absurdity of the situation, from the dramatic fall to Jihoon's ridiculous commentary, finally broke through his embarrassment. He let out a small, huffing laugh and shook his head. "He's a menace."
"He cares about you," Taekyun said softly, his smile softening into something more profound. "I'm glad you have people who care about you like that."
In that moment, surrounded by shopping bags filled with things he didn't need, in a penthouse that wasn't his, with a bruise on his head and a throbbing ankle, Rinwoo felt something unexpected: a flicker of warmth. It wasn't just the embarrassment or the pain. It was the silly, shared moment, the concern of a friend, and the sight of Lee Taekyun actually, genuinely laughing with him, not at him. It was messy, and complicated, and maybe a little bit cute.
The vast master bedroom was bathed in the soft glow of city lights filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Rinwoo was settled comfortably in the center of the large bed, while Taekyun sat stiffly in the plush armchair he'd dragged over, maintaining his self-appointed vigil.
"You should go sleep in the guest room," Rinwoo said, breaking the comfortable silence. "There's no need for you to sit there all night."
Taekyun shook his head, his gaze fixed on Rinwoo. "I'm fine here. I won't disturb you. I just… I want to be here if you need anything."
Rinwoo sighed, recognizing the stubborn set of his jaw. He let the matter drop, but the quiet intimacy of the room pressed in on them, making the unspoken past feel louder than ever.
After a long while, Rinwoo's voice, quiet and tentative, cut through the dark. "Those two years… what did you do? Really?"
Taekyun, who had spent those years meticulously tracking Rinwoo's every move—his first day at the café, his hesitant smiles at customers, his weekend trips to the countryside—felt a pang of guilt. He knew the answer to this question in a way that was deeply invasive.
He chose a sliver of the truth. "I worked," he said, his voice low. "I built the hotels, the restaurants. It was… all I had." He paused, then dared to ask a question whose answer he also already knew. "And you? What was it like… starting over?"
Rinwoo looked up at the ceiling, a faint, wistful smile touching his lips. "It was terrifying at first. Everything was new. But… it was good. Learning to bake properly. Getting my first paycheck that was truly mine. Figuring out what I actually liked, not what I was supposed to like." He chuckled softly. "I even tried pottery. I was terrible at it."
Taekyun's heart ached. He had a box of blurry, long-distance photos of Rinwoo laughing in a pottery studio, covered in clay. He knew about the paycheck, the failed attempts at sculpting a vase. To hear Rinwoo recount these mundane, beautiful milestones of a life lived without him, while he had been a ghost in the shadows, was a unique and piercing agony.
"It sounds… peaceful," Taekyun managed to say, his voice thick.
"It was," Rinwoo said softly. He then turned his head on the pillow, his eyes finding Taekyun's in the dim light. "Did you ever… think about me?"
The question hung in the air, a direct hit to the core of Taekyun's existence for the past seven hundred and thirty days.
Taekyun's breath caught. He looked down at his hands, clenched in his lap. He couldn't tell the whole truth—that thinking about Rinwoo was like breathing, an involuntary, life-sustaining function. That he had watched him, a silent sentinel to a happiness he wasn't part of.
So he gave him another truth, just as real.
"Every day," he whispered, the confession raw and stark in the quiet room. "There wasn't a single day I didn't think of you, Rinwoo. It was my greatest punishment, and my only comfort."
The admission shifted something in the space between them. Rinwoo didn't reply, but he didn't look away. For the first time, he was truly seeing the depth of the void those two years had carved in Lee Taekyun, and the profound, unsettling truth that he had never really been alone in them.
The air in the room, still thick with the confession of Taekyun's constant remembrance, needed to shift. Rinwoo grasped for a different thread, something outside the intense bubble of their own fractured history.
"Your brother... Taemin," Rinwoo began, his voice tentative. "Do you know how he is?"
A shadow crossed Taekyun's face, a mix of resignation and old pain. He gave a slight, hollow shrug. "No. I don't. I cut ties with everyone—my father, the company, Daon... Taemin. To them, I might as well be dead." He looked down at his hands. "I didn't give them a chance to contact me, and I didn't try to contact them. I thought... it was cleaner that way. So, I know nothing."
Rinwoo nodded slowly, a pang of sympathy for the isolated man in the armchair cutting through his own complicated feelings. He remembered the whirlwind of the youngest Lee brother—all rebellious energy and fierce heart.
"Eunjae told me something," Rinwoo offered, wanting to fill the silence with something, anything. "About Taemin's wedding day. Apparently, it was a disaster. His... his lover, Juwon, showed up. On a motorcycle. They caused a huge scene, and then the whole place caught fire."
Taekyun's head snapped up, his eyes wide with alarm. "Fire? Was he hurt?" The automatic, brotherly concern was still there, buried under years of self-imposed exile.
"I don't know the details," Rinwoo admitted. "Eunjae just said it was chaotic. The Lee and Park families were fighting, and then there was the fire. He and Juwon were trapped inside for a while, but they got out."
The news settled over Taekyun like a cold blanket. He leaned back in his chair, a deep frown etching his features. The story was like something from a tragic folktale, perfectly in line with the family's cursed legacy. His mind, trained to see patterns of ruin, immediately went to the darkest possibility.
"Trapped in a fire..." Taekyun murmured, his voice laced with a dread that was all too familiar. He looked at Rinwoo, his gaze serious. "The curse... I wonder if he survived it. Or if his defiance only made it worse."
The statement hung in the air, a grim reminder of the shadow that had hung over all their lives. In seeking his own freedom, Taekyun had abandoned his brother to face that same darkness alone. The guilt, which had been solely focused on Rinwoo, now expanded to include the family he had left behind. He was safe in his sterile penthouse, but were any of them truly safe? The question of Taemin's fate became a new, sharp point of anxiety, tethering him once again to the past he had tried so hard to escape.
Next day ..
The first rays of morning sun painted the penthouse in hues of gold. Rinwoo stirred, blinking awake. His gaze immediately found Taekyun, still seated in the armchair, a book open but unread in his lap. He was massaging his temples, his eyes shadowed and weary. It was painfully clear he hadn't slept a wink.
A sharp pang of guilt pricked at Rinwoo's heart. "You should have gone to the guest room to sleep after I fell asleep," he said, his voice rough with sleep.
Taekyun looked up, offering a small, tired smile that didn't reach his eyes. "It's fine. It's not like I would have fallen asleep anyway."
The casual admission hung in the air. It's not like I would have fallen asleep anyway. Rinwoo's breath hitched. The pieces clicked into place—the dark circles that seemed to be a permanent fixture, the restless energy, the sheer exhaustion in his bones. Taekyun had insomnia. The realization was a quiet, heartbreaking revelation. Rinwoo didn't push, storing the knowledge away with a growing sense of compassion.
He shifted to sit up, intending to hop to the bathroom. Immediately, Taekyun was on his feet, a flurry of nervous energy.
"Don't," Rinwoo said, holding up a hand. "I just need to freshen up. I can manage."
But Taekyun was already crossing the room. "No, you can't," he said, his voice firm with worry. Before Rinwoo could protest further, he was once again scooped up into those strong arms.
"Taekyun!" Rinwoo yelped, his face flushing with a mixture of indignation and something else he couldn't name.
Taekyun carried him into the massive, marble bathroom and didn't set him down. Instead, he shifted his hold, supporting Rinwoo firmly around the waist with one arm, turning him to face the toilet.
"I'll close my eyes," Taekyun stated, as if it were the most logical solution in the world. "Don't mind me."
Rinwoo's jaw dropped. "Are you insane? Get out!" he scolded, swatting at Taekyun's arm. "I am not doing this with you in here!"
But Taekyun didn't budge. His hold tightened just enough to be supportive, and then he did something that stole the air from Rinwoo's lungs. He buried his face in the crook of Rinwoo's neck, his voice a muffled, desperate whisper against his skin.
"Please. I promise I won't see. Just... let me help you. I can't... I can't stand the thought of you falling again. Please."
His entire body was tense with a mixture of unwavering determination and sheer, naked vulnerability. The scolding died on Rinwoo's lips. This wasn't about dominance or control. This was about a fear so profound it overrode all social norms and personal boundaries. This was Lee Taekyun, brought to his knees by love and guilt, refusing to let the person he cherished be in pain or danger for even a second, even if it meant standing in a bathroom with his eyes squeezed shut.
Defeated, flustered, and undeniably moved, Rinwoo let out a long, shaky sigh. "You're impossible," he whispered, his own resolve crumbling in the face of such absurd, heartbreaking devotion.
The atmosphere in the bathroom was thick with a palpable, flustered tension. After the deeply embarrassing ordeal at the toilet, which Taekyun had endured with his eyes screwed shut and his face still buried in Rinwoo's shoulder, Rinwoo was desperate for a shred of dignity.
"Okay, I'm done. You can... you can look now," Rinwoo muttered, his face burning.
Taekyun lifted his head, his own ears tinged with pink, but his focus immediately returned to caretaking. He supported Rinwoo as he hopped to the sink to wash his face and brush his teeth, a silent, hovering presence.
Finished, Rinwoo looked down at his rumpled clothes from the day before. "My clothes are all dirty. I need to take a shower."
Taekyun simply nodded, as if this were a perfectly normal next step. In one smooth motion, he lifted Rinwoo and placed him sitting on the wide marble counter.
"Taekyun, what are you—"
Before he could finish, Taekyun's hands were at the hem of his sweater. Rinwoo's hands flew up to stop him.
"Yah! Stop! Leave! At least let me do this myself!" Rinwoo scolded, his voice rising in pitch.
Taekyun's hands stilled, but he didn't pull away. He looked up, and his eyes were wide, pleading pools of desperate sincerity. "Please," he whispered, his voice raw. "Just let me help. I can't risk you slipping. I won't be able to bear it."
The sheer, unvarnished fear in his gaze was Rinwoo's undoing. The fight drained out of him, replaced by a bewildered, heart-thumping acquiescence. "Fine," he gritted out, looking away. "But I'm not taking off my boxers. That's the line."
A soft, surprised chuckle escaped Taekyun, a sound so rare and warm it made Rinwoo's stomach flutter. "Okay," Taekyun agreed, a small, genuine smile touching his lips. "That's the line."
With a new, careful efficiency, Taekyun helped him out of his sweater and pants, his touch clinical and respectful, his eyes carefully averted from the waist down. He then turned and started filling the large tub with warm water, testing the temperature with his hand.
While the tub filled, he hurried out and returned with an armful of the new, soft clothes he'd bought—pajamas, a towel, everything. He laid them out within easy reach.
Once the tub was ready, he turned back to Rinwoo. "Ready?"
Without waiting for an answer, he carefully lifted Rinwoo again and, with immense care, lowered him into the warm, welcoming water.
"Okay?" Taekyun asked, kneeling by the tub, his brow furrowed in concern.
Rinwoo, submerged in the warmth, surrounded by steam and the absurd reality of his situation, could only nod. He was naked except for his boxers, in a bathtub, being meticulously cared for by the man who had once shattered him. It was the most vulnerable, confusing, and strangely tender moment of his life.
"I'll be right outside the door," Taekyun said softly, his voice a promise. "Call if you need anything. Anything at all."
He stood, gave Rinwoo one last, lingering look of pure, unguarded care, and then stepped out, leaving the door slightly ajar, a silent testament to his vow to be nearby. Rinwoo sank deeper into the water, his heart a chaotic mess of embarrassment, frustration, and a terrifying, budding warmth he didn't know how to name.
The warm water was a balm, not just for his sore ankle, but for the tangled knots of tension in his shoulders. Rinwoo let his head rest against the cool porcelain, closing his eyes. Against his will, a sense of peace settled over him. The sterile penthouse was silent, save for the faint, comforting sounds of clinking pans and the low hum of a stove vent from the kitchen. Taekyun was cooking. The image was so domestic, so utterly surreal, that Rinwoo couldn't help the small, reluctant smile that touched his lips. He was, despite everything, enjoying the simple, undivided attention.
In the kitchen, Taekyun moved with a focused intensity he usually reserved for corporate takeovers. He'd spent two lonely years forcing himself to learn this—how to make a perfect rolled omelet, how to season seaweed soup just right, how to keep the rice from sticking to the bottom of the pot. It had been a penance, a way to feel connected to a life he'd thrown away. Now, it felt like a prayer.
Once breakfast was ready, he returned to the bathroom. "All done?" he asked softly.
Rinwoo, feeling clean and drowsy, nodded. Taekyun helped him out of the tub, wrapping him in a large, fluffy towel with the same gentle efficiency. He then helped him into the soft, new pajamas—the fabric was impossibly comfortable against his skin. The entire process was performed with a quiet reverence, Taekyun's hands careful and his eyes full of a quiet awe, as if he couldn't believe he was being allowed to do this.
He didn't make Rinwoo hobble to the dining table. Instead, he carried him back to the bed, propping the pillows up behind him. Then, he brought over a beautiful wooden tray and set it carefully across Rinwoo's lap.
On it was a perfectly arranged breakfast. The rolled omelet was golden, a simple miso soup steamed invitingly, and the rice was fluffy. It was a far cry from the extravagant, impersonal meals of their past.
"I... I hope it's okay," Taekyun said, hovering nervously by the bedside, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. He looked like a chef awaiting a critic's review, his entire being hinging on Rinwoo's reaction.
Rinwoo looked from the meticulously prepared food to Taekyun's anxious face. The man had learned to cook. For him. The realization was a soft, devastating blow to the remains of his defenses. He picked up his chopsticks, took a small bite of the omelet, and found it was perfect.
"It's good," Rinwoo said, his voice quiet but sincere. "Thank you."
The relief that washed over Taekyun was visible. A real, unforced smile brightened his tired features, and for a moment, he looked like the young man Rinwoo had fallen in love with, before the weight of the world and his own flaws had crushed him. He didn't say anything, just nodded and sat back in his armchair, content to simply watch Rinwoo eat, the morning sun bathing them both in a light that felt, for the first time in years, genuinely hopeful.
The days had settled into a quiet, unexpected rhythm. The sharp edges of their past had been softened by Taekyun's unwavering, gentle care and Rinwoo's gradual acceptance of it. The tension had faded, replaced by a comfortable, if still fragile, peace. Rinwoo's ankle was healing well; he could walk with only a slight limp now.
Today was different. For the first time, Taekyun had to leave, pulled away by some unavoidable business related to his hotels. The penthouse felt vast and silent without his constant, hovering presence. Boredom and a growing curiosity led Rinwoo on a slow, limping exploration of the space he'd only seen in parts—the bedroom, the main bathroom, the kitchen.
He passed a door he'd always assumed was a closet or a second guest room. But something about it felt different. It was the only room Taekyun had never opened or mentioned. His initial instinct was to respect the boundary, but the silence and the gnawing curiosity were too strong.
Hesitantly, he turned the knob and pushed the door open.
The breath left his lungs in a sharp gasp.
It wasn't a bedroom or a storage space. It was a shrine.
Every wall, from floor to ceiling, was covered in photographs. Not professional shots, but candid, sometimes grainy, pictures of him. Rinwoo standing on a seaside pier, the wind in his hair. Rinwoo laughing with Jihoon outside the café. Rinwoo concentrating in his pottery class, a smudge of clay on his cheek. Rinwoo looking at a map, confused, on his first solo trip to a small coastal town. There were hundreds of them, a meticulous, visual diary of the two years he thought he had lived completely on his own.
His heart hammered against his ribs as the pieces of a puzzle he never knew existed slammed together with dizzying force.
The anonymous scholarship that covered his online courses.
The"customer lottery" he'd "won" at the travel agency, giving him a massive discount on his trips.
The free upgrades on trains and in modest hotels.
The"manager's special" discounts that always seemed to apply to his orders at the café supply store.
The strange ease with which he'd navigated a city that should have been overwhelming.
He had chalked it all up to incredible luck and the kindness of strangers. He had even marveled to Eunjae about how strangely easy his new life was.
It wasn't luck. It wasn't kindness.
It was Taekyun.
A sob caught in his throat. He hadn't been free. He hadn't been independent. Every step of his celebrated journey of self-discovery had been quietly, invisibly paved by the man he thought had abandoned him. The "freedom" he had been so proud of was an elaborate, beautifully maintained illusion. Taekyun hadn't just been watching from a distance; he had been an invisible hand, guiding, supporting, and cushioning his every move, ensuring his safety and happiness from the shadows.
He stumbled back, his legs feeling weak, and leaned against the doorframe, staring at the overwhelming evidence of a love so profound, so obsessive, and so heartbreakingly devoted that it had literally built the world around him. The man who had once been the source of all his pain had, in his absence, become the silent architect of all his peace. The realization didn't feel like a violation. It felt like the final, devastating piece of a truth he had been too blind to see: Lee Taekyun had never, not for a single second, stopped loving him.
The soft click of the penthouse door was the only sound that broke the evening silence. Taekyun stepped inside, looking weary but content, shedding his jacket. The usual soft light from the bedroom was off, casting the main living space in deep shadow.
"Rinwoo? Are you asleep?" he called out softly.
He found him not in the bedroom, but standing in the living room, silhouetted against the vast cityscape of lights beyond the floor-to-ceiling window. He was perfectly still.
"Rinwoo?" Taekyun repeated, his steps slowing as a prickle of unease ran down his spine.
Rinwoo didn't turn. "I went for a walk today," he said, his voice unnervingly calm. "Around the penthouse."
Taekyun's blood ran cold. He followed Rinwoo's line of sight, which wasn't on the city, but on the hallway that led to the one room he never, ever entered.
"You know," Rinwoo continued, his tone conversational yet laced with something sharp and painful, "I always thought I was so lucky. My life after you... it was so strangely easy. Scholarships I never applied for. Discounts that fell into my lap. Helpful strangers everywhere I went." He finally turned, and in the dim light, Taekyun could see the tracks of dried tears on his cheeks, though his expression was composed. "I actually felt proud. I thought I'd built that life myself."
"Rinwoo, I—"
"Was it you?" Rinwoo interrupted, his voice cracking on the last word. "The free upgrade on the train to Busan? The 'manager's special' on the industrial mixer that just happened to be exactly what I needed? Was it all you?"
The silence that followed was an admission. Taekyun stood frozen, his carefully constructed world crumbling around him.
"Why?" Rinwoo whispered, the calm shattering into raw anguish. "Why would you do that? You left! You walked away because your presence was a 'toxin'! So you decided to become my... my invisible guardian angel? Was it guilt? Was this your way of paying a debt?"
"No!" The word was torn from Taekyun's throat. He took a frantic step forward. "It wasn't guilt! It was never guilt!"
"Then what?!" Rinwoo cried out, his composure breaking completely. "What else could it be? You were controlling my life all over again, just from a distance!"
"It was love!" Taekyun shouted, the truth exploding out of him after two years of silence. He stumbled forward, his own eyes filling with tears. "Don't you see? I had to leave because I was destroying you! But I couldn't... I couldn't stop loving you. I couldn't stop caring if you were safe, if you were happy, if you had enough to eat! Watching you, ensuring you were okay... it was the only thing keeping me alive!"
He fell to his knees on the expensive rug, his shoulders shaking. "I know it was wrong. I know it was a violation. But it was all I had. It was the only way I could love you without hurting you. I was trying to protect the happiness I could never be part of."
Rinwoo stared down at the man groveling on the floor, the man who had orchestrated the entire backdrop of his new life. The anger drained away, leaving behind a devastating, profound sorrow. He wasn't being controlled. He was being cherished in the only way Taekyun knew how—with a desperate, all-consuming, and deeply flawed devotion that had persisted even in exile.
He slowly walked over and sank to his own knees, facing Taekyun. He reached out, his fingers gently brushing a tear from Taekyun's cheek.
"You're a fool," Rinwoo whispered, his own voice thick with emotion. "A stupid, hopeless fool."
Taekyun caught his hand, pressing it against his wet cheek. "I know," he choked out. "I know. But I'm your fool. I have always been yours."
They knelt together on the floor, surrounded by the glittering city, the walls of the secret room bearing witness to a love that was too broken to be healthy, but too powerful to ever die. It wasn't a happy ending. It was a raw, heartbreaking confession, and the terrifying, uncertain beginning of whatever came next.
The space between them on the floor was charged with a raw, aching history. As Rinwoo's hand cupped his cheek, Taekyun's composure shattered completely. A broken sob wracked his frame, and he leaned forward, his forehead coming to rest against Rinwoo's shoulder. Rinwoo didn't pull away. Instead, his arms came up, wrapping around Taekyun, holding him as he finally, fully fell apart.
They stayed like that for a long time, kneeling in the dark, the only sounds Taekyun's ragged breaths and the hum of the city below.
"You stupid man," Rinwoo whispered into his hair, his own voice thick with tears. "You absolute fool."
Taekyun just clung to him tighter, his tears soaking through Rinwoo's shirt.
"I had forgiven you," Rinwoo confessed, the words a soft, painful release. "That day at the shrine. When you were on your knees, begging to be my shadow… I had already forgiven you in my heart. I was just too proud and too hurt to say it. I was ready… I was ready to let you try."
Taekyun froze in his arms. He pulled back just enough to look at Rinwoo, his eyes wide with a devastation so profound it was like seeing his own soul reflected back at him. "What?"
"I said I forgave you," Rinwoo repeated, a fresh tear tracing a path down his own cheek. "But you… you had to leave. You listened to that doctor. You listened to your own guilt. You left me alone with a forgiveness I never got to give."
The agony on Taekyun's face was unbearable. He shook his head, a low, wounded sound escaping him. "I thought… I thought I was saving you. I wanted you to heal, Rinwoo. Not because of me. Not for me. Not out of pity or because I was there, begging. I wanted you to find yourself, to be strong all on your own. If I had stayed…" His voice broke. "If I had stayed, we would have just settled in the shrine. You would have stayed out of obligation, or pity, or just… habit. We would have become nothing. A ghost and his keeper, trapped forever in that mountain. I wanted you to have a life. A real one."
Hearing the reasoning laid bare was like having his own heart split open. Rinwoo finally understood. It hadn't been a rejection. It had been the most tragic, misguided act of love Taekyun was capable of. He had chosen what he thought was Rinwoo's ultimate happiness over his own desperate need to be with him.
"You didn't get to make that choice for me," Rinwoo said, his voice trembling. "You didn't get to decide what my 'real life' should be. You took my choice away. Again."
Taekyun bowed his head, the truth of the accusation landing with its full weight. "I know," he wept. "I know that now. I thought I was setting you free, but all I did was cage us both in different ways. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."
They sank down from their knees to sit on the floor, leaning against the sofa, holding each other in the dark. There were no more words of anger, only the shared, heartbreaking weight of two years lost to a terrible, loving mistake. The forgiveness Rinwoo had held onto and the love Taekyun had hidden in the shadows finally met in the middle, not with a happy spark, but with the quiet, devastating ache of what could have been.
—THE END —