* * *
Ignoring Doyoung’s incredulous stare, Sinje pressed on, his voice steady but firm.
“I wouldn’t stop there. I’d make sure no one could meet you. I’d erase every trace of your existence from the world as if you’d never been part of it.”
“Wow. Are you even hearing yourself?” Doyoung’s tone dripped with exasperation.
Who was this man in front of him?
This wasn’t the poised, logical protagonist he thought he knew.
Then again, whenever he’d met Sinje in person, he was never quite what Doyoung expected.
“But I didn’t do any of that, did I?” Sinje said.
“I let you do what you wanted. I didn’t interfere when you met others or crossed paths with people who knew you.”
Sinje’s unblinking gaze pinned Doyoung in place.
Every so often, Sinje entertained the thought: ‘What if I kept Doyoung here?’
Away from the world, where no one else could reach him, where only Sinje could bask in his presence.
For a fleeting moment, he’d believed isolation might be better—for both of them.
But the thought always left a strange, bitter aftertaste.
A faint sigh escaped Doyoung’s lips.
Sinje shook off his intrusive thoughts, realizing they were nothing more than fragments of fleeting insecurity.
Right now, what mattered was expressing his truth.
“And because I didn’t, I get to have moments like this with you.”
“You know,” Doyoung said, squinting slightly, “there are times I seriously doubt if I can handle you.”
Sinje chuckled, the sound unexpectedly bright.
“That means you’re staying, right?”
“We’re dating, aren’t we?”
For a moment, Doyoung hesitated.
Or maybe he didn’t.
The words tumbled out, casual, as if they meant nothing—and yet, everything.
“And… I like you too.”
Sinje’s breath caught. His eyes widened, unguarded for once.
“Of course, I can’t say it as confidently as you yet,” Doyoung added, brushing it off like it was no big deal.
But he had learned something from watching himself around Sinje: the care and affection he directed toward this man were unlike what he showed anyone else.
Could he imagine sharing that with someone else?
No. Absolutely not.
“I do like you,” Doyoung reaffirmed softly.
If there was anyone he could share a genuine connection with, it was the man standing before him.
No one else, in the past, present, or future.
Maybe that’s why fate had thrown him into this world—why he’d been so desperate to help this protagonist, to bring him comfort.
The train of thought derailed abruptly when Sinje grabbed his wrist.
Doyoung stumbled, caught off guard, and braced himself by grabbing the back of Sinje’s chair.
The closeness left him staring directly into Sinje’s unwavering eyes.
“Stop entertaining silly thoughts,” Sinje said, voice low but steady.
“You’re here now, with me. That’s what matters.”
Doyoung felt a lump in his throat.
This man—always so steadfast, so sure—had a way of making everything feel unshakably real.
“Sinje,” he murmured.
Sinje tightened his grip on Doyoung’s wrist, pulling him closer.
There was no resistance, as if they were two magnets drawn together.
“Sinje.”
Before Doyoung could protest, soft lips pressed against his own.
The kiss was sudden, warm, and utterly consuming.
He stiffened, but not out of resistance. Instead, surprise coursed through him—followed by a hesitant, almost shy response.
The moment Sinje felt the slightest opening, he deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring with gentle persistence.
Doyoung shuddered, overwhelmed by the sheer intimacy of it.
His fingers twitched against the chair’s backrest, gripping tightly as if to anchor himself.
When Sinje finally broke away, Doyoung was gasping for air.
His lips felt raw, tingling with the aftermath of their contact.
“What was that all about?” Doyoung managed to say, his voice hoarse.
Sinje’s reply was simple.
“I wanted to kiss you.”
That straightforward declaration made Doyoung’s heart stutter.
Before he could form a coherent response, Sinje’s arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him in again.
This time, Doyoung didn’t resist.
The rest of the world, for now, ceased to matter.
“It’s not that I didn’t want to, but I want to.”
That statement was like a declaration that things weren’t over yet.
And, true to that sentiment, Doyoung felt long arms encircle the back of his head, pulling him closer again.
He hesitated briefly.
Maybe it was time to stop Beom Sinje.
After all, this was a break room meant for resting before the press conference.
It wasn’t exactly a private space—someone from the filming crew or anyone else could walk in at any moment.
‘Did I lock the door?’
Instead of immediately pushing Beom Sinje away, that question oddly surfaced in his mind first.
He couldn’t remember.
Then again, this wasn’t exactly the kind of place where locking the door seemed necessary in the first place.
Still, just to avoid any potential disasters, it might be a good idea to check.
After what happened at the lab last time, Doyoung had gotten fairly adept at moving small objects with ease.
Focusing on locking the doorknob shouldn’t be too hard if he just concentrated.
As the color of his eyes began to shift—
“Focus.”
Beom Sinje lightly reprimanded him, as if he could sense Doyoung’s attention wandering.
Before he could explain himself, Doyoung was yanked forward, his upper body collapsing into Beom Sinje, leaving him leaning entirely against him.
Thunk.
The chair groaned under their combined weight, the noise alarming enough to make Beom Sinje wrap his long arms around Doyoung’s waist and stand up.
Their positions shifted.
Doyoung felt his back press against the firm wall, while the large hand cradling the back of his head remained steady.
Trapped like this, Doyoung found himself gasping for air under the onslaught of fervent kisses that rained down like a storm.
He became increasingly aware of something firm pressing insistently against the inside of his thigh.
He didn’t need to look to know what it was.
Tentatively, his hand slid downward, moving between their legs.
“No.”
Beom Sinje pulled back just enough to deny him, clearly aware of his intent.
“This is a public place,” he said, lips glistening from the kiss—a statement that felt ironic considering what they’d already done.
“And what was I trying to do?” Doyoung asked, his eyes sparkling mischievously.
“I just mean, even if I’m… excited, it’ll go away on its own if we don’t touch it.”
“Hmm… Somehow, I doubt that.”
Doyoung’s gaze dropped downward.
Inevitably, Beom Sinje followed his line of sight, catching a glimpse of the very thing he’d been avoiding.
Even through the fabric of his pants, the prominent bulge was impossible to ignore.
“At this rate, someone might notice during the press conference. Not just you, but I’d be humiliated too. Wouldn’t it make more sense to… take care of it now?”
Doyoung’s practical reasoning made Beom Sinje’s head instinctively nod before he managed to stop himself.
“Still, no. What if someone walks in and sees us? I couldn’t stand that.”
His tone didn’t sound like he was merely embarrassed, but Doyoung refrained from pressing further, watching as Beom Sinje glanced between the closed door and him.
“I can’t let anyone else see you like this.”
“Hey, don’t say things like that,” Doyoung retorted, slightly flustered.
Despite his lean frame, anyone could tell he was a man.
‘If anything, call me striking, not pretty.’
With sharp shoulders, a chiseled jawline, and bold, masculine features, being described as “pretty” felt absurd.
“But you are,” Beom Sinje countered, placing light kisses on his nose, cheek, ear, and forehead in turn. “Here, and here, and here too.”
A warm smile lit Beom Sinje’s face as he spoke, and Doyoung found himself unable to look away.
Perhaps he felt the same—wanting to keep this side of Beom Sinje, who could laugh so freely, all to himself.
“Well then, I guess we’ll have to stop here.”
* * *
