Coming out of the shower, the living room was still bright. Wondering if he’d left the light on for him, Cheong-o went out to turn it off — and found Se-hyeon curled up asleep on the sofa. Was the house cold? He pressed his foot to the floor, looking at Se-hyeon asleep with the blanket pulled up to his nose.
Since bringing Se-hyeon home, the floor had kept the same temperature, and today it was as toasty as ever. Crouching in front of it, Cheong-o gazed at the clear face.
The squashed cheek was funny; he poked it and got no reaction. A bolder poke at the other cheek narrowed the gap between his brows.
“Sleep in the bed.”
His voice was so quiet it didn’t sound like he meant to wake him. Cheong-o gently smoothed the wrinkled brow with his fingers, then pulled the blanket away. Robbed of the blanket, the body curled tighter with a whimper.
I should get him exercising. He couldn’t understand a body that felt cold in a house that was beyond warm, nearly hot. Thinking of just carrying the curled body as it was, Cheong-o slid his hands under the armpits and behind the knees and lifted Se-hyeon in a stable hold.
If he dragged him around, exercised him, fed him well, maybe he’d put on some weight. Esper or not, Se-hyeon’s weight felt excessively light. How he’d gone through training with that body was a mystery.
Not even knowing he was being held, Se-hyeon slept soundly as Cheong-o laid him on the bed and covered him with the blanket.
At first he’d been on pins and needles, but now it was fully his own house. Living with the man who’d pounced on him so high-handedly inside the gate, he was suspiciously defenseless.
Cheong-o stood still, staring at the closed eyelids. Beneath the lids fringed with thick lashes were pitch-black eyes you felt you could fall into. He’d been out all day and barely seen him a few times. The regret of it kept his gaze from lifting.
Just then — whether his regret got through or not — the lashes trembled. Se-hyeon opened his eyes to slits, stared blankly at nothing, then opened them a little wider and blinked at the big dark man beside him.
If he left him alone without a word, he’d fall right back asleep, so he only looked down at him — and a soft hand wrapped around his index finger. Cheong-o lowered only his eyes to the captured finger.
“…do…”
The long horizontal eyes turned toward his face, and the double eyelid that had shown vanished.
“Do…n’t… go…”
The looking-down eyes were clear; the looking-up eyes were hazy. The hand gripping his finger shook.
“Stay…”
It was obvious Se-hyeon had no idea what he was saying. Cheong-o pictured Se-hyeon waking tomorrow, horrified.
“Stay… with me…”
The child shook the finger of the unresponsive Cheong-o, insistent. Looking back and forth between the blinking eyes and the gently shaking finger, Cheong-o got under the blanket. Se-hyeon turned toward Cheong-o, filling the space beside him.
“You’re quite the hand at calling a man into your bed. Who taught you that?”
“…”
“Who’d you learn it from? That’s not the skill of someone who’s done it once or twice.”
“…Stop it…”
The lips his finger had been tapping opened.
“…You’re… noisy…”
Mumbling. Cheong-o, understanding on his own, burst out laughing.
“If you call me to bed, you owe me a reward.”
The finger tormented his lips again. Se-hyeon, his sleep disturbed, scrunched his brow in annoyance.
“Mmngh.”
“Then at least give me a peck.” “…Just…”
“It’s a first — lying in the same bed and doing nothing.”
Had he been in his right mind, Se-hyeon would have bristled; he stayed quiet. Cheong-o smiled and pulled his lower lip out long, then let it go.
“Guide.”
“Yes…”
“Guide Lee Se-hyeon.”
“Yes…”
“Lee Se-hyeon.”
“…”
His lips pressed shut, as if even answering was a bother now. Lost in thought, Cheong-o closed his own mouth too, and only spoke after a long while.
“Kwon Se-hyeon.”
No answer. Cheong-o looked away from the lips to the closed eyes. After a long silence, pitch-black eyes full of confusion met his. It was a name that chased sleep away in an instant. Se-hyeon, who’d been waiting only to fall back into half-sleep, stared at the man before his nose.
“H-how…”
“Of course I couldn’t find you — you threw your surname away and changed it.”
“Y-you looked into me? I told you not to!”
“I had to.”
“Why? What do you need it for? Who are you to dig into things like that?!” Se-hyeon shot up, watching Cheong-o rise with him. His head spun, but he gritted through it.
Kwon was his father’s surname — the one Se-hyeon had originally used — and Lee, which he’d switched to on his own when he entered the Center, was his mother’s. But how on earth had Cheong-o found out? His anxious heart pounded.
“As you’ve heard, I need a guide. And you need someone you can guide.”
“What does that have to do with me? I’ve lived just fine without guiding.”
“I don’t think I can go on like that anymore. I need you. When I didn’t know, I just muddled through — but now that I know, how am I supposed to forget?” That is, so, maybe…
“You’re saying… you want to form an exclusive… contract?”
“Must be all that reading — your comprehension is remarkable.”
“Why me… why someone like me…”
“Because you’re a guide.”
“But why…? I can’t even guide properly…” It was the kind of thing you say after feeding your self-esteem to the dogs. Cheong-o looked at the collarbone bared by the slipping top, bought for his build, and pulled it up. At the fleeting touch of skin, his body edged slightly away.
“You’ll see when you check — on paper, our matching rate is pretty high.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“And it isn’t just on paper — you showed me inside the gate.”
“What did I show you?”
“The fact that you got aroused by that botched guiding of mine — I’d say the matter’s already settled.” Right now, the word “botched” didn’t matter to Se-hyeon. What mattered most was that an esper had gotten aroused receiving his guiding. Having experienced firsthand how, and how much, Cheong-o had gotten aroused, he couldn’t help but believe it.
“You were curious why I came back to the Center, right?”
He’d only vaguely guessed — that with no family left and the Center needing him, he’d come back at the Center’s request. Se-hyeon moved his lips.
“I came to get a look at this guide with the supposedly high matching rate.”
“…”
“On my way back that first day I saw you, and your face felt strangely familiar. We passed each other at about this distance, but you didn’t notice.”
Se-hyeon studied Cheong-o’s face, gauging whether the story was true.
“I once had a mission to rescue kids and guides raised in an illegal facility.” At the unexpected turn, Se-hyeon’s eyes went wide as lanterns. No way, no way. It couldn’t be. He couldn’t possibly remember me.
“I rescued a kid who was hiding and crying alone in a dark room.” Se-hyeon held his breath like someone who’d forgotten how. That couldn’t be. He couldn’t possibly — remember me.
“He’d just manifested as a guide, so his guiding was a mess.” The flesh he bit inside his mouth trembled, and his eyes grew hot. He wasn’t normally a crier, but in front of Cheong-o he kept turning into one. Unable to face him, Se-hyeon hung his head.
“Honestly, it was a hassle, and I’ve never been fond of kids, so I kept trying to hand him off — but every time, he’d start bawling.”
“…”
“So I carried him in my arms all the way to the Center.”
“Uhnngh…”
“He was so light. Like someone I know.”
His body, beyond his control, curled into a ball. Se-hyeon buried his face in the blanket and poured out tears.
“At first I wasn’t sure, but the timing lined up and the guiding was unmistakable.”
“Y-you’re lying…”
Gasping, Se-hyeon pushed himself up and barely squeezed out his voice.
“How much did you dig into me to know even that? I really… I really hate you. I really, truly hate you…”
“You knew who I was from the start, didn’t you?”
“I… really… hate you…”
“If I’d kept pretending not to know, how long were you going to keep it secret?”
Not caring about the chafing skin, Cheong-o caught the hand that was roughly scrubbing and stroked the back of his head. The sobbing by his ear wouldn’t stop. This moment — the crying of the most wronged person in the world — was heartrending.
“I hate it so much, I hate you so, so much…”
“Hate me all you want — we’re still forming an exclusive contract.”
“Hngh, uhk…”
Like a parrot, Se-hyeon only repeated that he hated him, that he was hateful, that he was annoying.
Afraid Se-hyeon might collapse from exhaustion, Cheong-o worried in earnest, stroking freely the hair he’d barely restrained himself from touching since they first met, while Se-hyeon hiccupped intermittently whenever he started to calm.
It was strange — they used the same products, but his hair was oddly softer. Cheong-o thought of the products lined up in the bathrooms.
The big bathroom and the small one were stocked with the same things. Did even those play favorites?
It was hardly the right thought for holding a crying person. His lowered hand patted the back. The faint tremor was still there, but he wasn’t sobbing like before.
“I’m curious about something. When did you realize it was me?”
“…Not long after I became a full guide.”
“Did you look for me?”
“I didn’t.”
“Then how did you know it was me, without looking?”
His back rose and fell with each breath. The body, warmer than before, seemed flushed from crying.
Anyone else would have seemed childish and fussy, but Se-hyeon was constitutionally frail, so he had to be soothed. If his fever rose further, it would be trouble for both of them.
“But… if we form an exclusive contract, everyone will find out, right?”
“Don’t want that? We can keep it secret.”
“Unbelievable…”
The moment they formed an exclusive contract, articles would go out saying Seo Cheong-o had an exclusive guide. Se-hyeon wasn’t a fool. What bothered him was only the chance that his parents might learn he existed. So…
“My face too… it’ll get out, right?”
“We could hide it, but not for long.”
Wriggling to pass his warmth to Cheong-o, Se-hyeon pushed at his chest, then sniffled. His eyes were swollen, narrowing his vision a little. Now that he’d cried his fill, the embarrassment was creeping in. He ducked his head to avoid Cheong-o’s persistent gaze and crumpled his sleeve.
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