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The mansion was unusually quiet as the familiar sound of Elijahs creaking wheelchair was nowhere to be found. Elijah had been invited to a week-long art therapy retreat organized by one of the charitable organizations she had reluctantly agreed to work with. Yo-han had been unwilling to let her go, but he understood she was older now. If she needed help, she'd reach out to him immediately.
Still, it wasn’t her absence that kept him awake. Not this time.
The silence was interrupted by light footsteps.
Ga-on appeared from the shadowed hallway, his presence as striking as ever. Yo-han’s heart skipped a beat. He wished he could pinpoint what made him feel this way. Why was it always Ga-on who made him feel like this? Like everything was right in front of him, but still just out of reach? Yo-han vowed he’d never let someone get so close again, but Ga-on had easily found his way into his life, as if he were the missing details of an originally dull painting. That’s how Yo-han's life was, up until Ga-on casually walked in as if it was meant to be. Maybe it is meant to be, Yo-han thinks, deluding himself. Why would someone like Ga-on want him?
“You’re up late.” Ga-on finally says, eyes searching.
Yo-han's lips curved into a faint smile. “You’re one to talk.”
“I had too much coffee due to someone's tiring work, what's your excuse?” He retorted, his voice laced with humor.
Yo-han shot him a knowing glance.”Too much work, huh? I’d say you’re just not used to being productive. Consider it good training.”
Ga-on scoffed, he continued. “So what’s your excuse then?”
Yo-han looks at him, unfazed. “My excuse? I don’t need one.”
The silence lingered, thick and heavy. Yo-han's gaze drifted to Ga-ons hands. He's holding a mug, probably tea. Lately, Ga-ons switched to tea. He claims it has a calming effect, unlike coffee.
Ga-on stepped further into the room, eyes narrowing as he watched Yo-han.
“Yo-han.’, Ga-on tests, his voice low, though there was a faint teasing edge to it.
Yo-han raises an eyebrow, “What is it?”.
“Will you tell me why you’re awake this late, please?”
He sighed, he really wouldn’t leave him alone until he got a good enough answer. What if Yo-han didn’t want him to leave?
“Nothing, I just couldn’t sleep.” The words felt far too simple compared to what was actually keeping him up.
Ga-on leaned against the wall, his posture relaxed but eyes sharp. “Yeah? You don’t strike me as the type who stays up for no reason.”
Yo-han only glances at him before quickly looking away, afraid that he’d see through him. Though, who’s to say he hasn’t already? Worth a try.
Lately, Yo-han’s been losing his footing. He’s used to living his life in danger, but what he’s not used to, is Kim Ga-on. There was something about him that always caught Yo-han off guard, something he both admired and resented. Other than his late brother, nobody like Ga-on had ever been in his life. He was the one person who truly understood him, who cared for him without any hidden agendas or ulterior motives. He wasn’t afraid to challenge him, to try and break down the walls he thought were impenetrable. In him, Yo-han had found an unexpected solace, something he refused to let anyone take away. No, not this time. Never again, he silently vowed.
The internal struggle kept him awake, it was a quiet unease gnawing at him, a conflict between his instinct to keep people at arms length and his constant growing attachment for someone who just meant to be on his side for this battle. Every night he’d toss and turn,
Why can’t I let go?
The stillness of the night only amplified these thoughts with the rain tapping against the window being the only audible thing in this room. Yo-han hates nights like these, the ones that brought more questions than peace.
“Do you always invade people’s quiet spaces like this?”
“It’s not invading if they don’t ask me to leave. Hm?” Ga-on tilts his head, giving him a knowing look. Cheeky bastard.
Yo-han says nothing, his gaze lingering on him a little longer than he intended. He hears a loud sigh which is then accompanied by a small clank of a mug on his desk.
“Here, I made this for you.” He said with a familiar fondness. Yo-han blinked, caught off guard. Me?
“Why?”
Ga-on shrugged. “You’ve been staying up lately. I figured you could use something to help soothe you down. It’s Chamomile.” he adds, “It works.”.
He hesitated before reaching for it, his fingers brushing the ceramic. It was so simple yet so thoughtful.
“You noticed…” Yo-han murmured, his voice softer now.
“Of course i noticed, how couldn’t I?”
There was something in the way he said it. Cautious, but oh, so caring. Yo-han’s grip on the mug tightened, the scent already soothing the tension coiled up in his chest. He took a small sip, the heat settling warmly in his stomach.
Yo-han’s walls, always perfectly constructed, seemed a little thinner tonight.
“…Thank you.” Yo-han quietly peeped, his voice carrying a sense of sincerity that shocked even himself.
Ga-on smiled at him softly, a genuine expression that reached his eyes. Yo-han might’ve tried looking away to escape it, but he couldn’t. He could’ve sworn that damn smile made him feel warmer than that tea.
Sigh.
Yo-han might be fucked.