Then another.
Then—slowly, as if something had uncoiled inside his spine—Seungho reached forward. His hand landed heavy on Haneul’s knee. Big. Warm. Unsteady.
Haneul blinked. Looked down. Then up.
“Hey skyscraper,” he said cautiously, “you are about five seconds away from being wrestled into a cold shower.”
But Seungho wasn’t groping or leering. His fingers didn’t slide higher.
They just stayed there. Solid. Seeking something that wasn’t skin.
“I’ve never been in love,” Seungho said. Quietly. Like it hurt.
Haneul went still.
Not teasing or smirking for once.
Seungho’s gaze was distant. Not unfocused—just far. Like he was looking into a past no one else could see.
“I’ve fucked,” he said. “Fallen into beds. Slept beside people who wanted pieces of me. But it always felt like I wasperforming someone else’s script. Like I was mimicking hunger. Like the part of me that should’ve felt something was… sealed.”
Haneul opened his mouth. Closed it.
Seungho continued.
“But you… you make me feel like I forgot something. Not just a person. A sensation. Like my body remembers something my mind can’t.”
His hand tightened just slightly on Haneul’s knee.
“I see you. And I feel like I already lost you.”
That was when Haneul’s breath caught.
A sharp, unguarded inhale.
He didn’t flinch. But his whole posture shifted—less casual now, more grounded. His fingers curled against the edge of the table like he needed to hold onto something.
“You’re drunk,” he whispered. But his voice wasn’t mocking.
“I am,” Seungho said. “But it doesn’t make this less true.”
Another pause.
Then, raw: “I’ve been lonely for a long time. I don’t even remember when it started. Maybe always. Maybe since before I was born. But you—Sky—”
That name, “Sky” said by Seungho, landed heavy, like a memory Haneul didn’t know he had forgotten.
Haneul swallowed. Hard.
“You feel like a mistake I was supposed to make. Like something I lost before I ever held it.”
His other hand came up. Slid toward Haneul’s face.
Fingertips brushed his sharp cheekbone.
But Haneul leaned back. Gently. Slowly. He caught Seungho’s wrist before it could go further.
“Hey,” he said, trying to make it light. But it came out hoarse. “Stop before you ruin your whole reputation.”
