ACTSV chapter 202

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He wondered if he’d ever given himself away, replaying his memories, but he couldn’t think of a single instance.

Of course, this was only Jingyeom’s perspective.

In truth, Jingyeom had been giving himself away countless times.

He thought he was doing a good job hiding it, but too much had changed from before.

Previously, he would use his phone without a care, but these days, he would glance at Jinwoo’s reaction or even step outside when making calls.

That alone was different from before.

In the past, he never paid much attention to his phone.

Now, he kept it close, constantly checking messages and giggling at them.

There was no way Jinwoo could fail to notice.

And it wasn’t just that.

Even Soohyuk showing up unexpectedly on the weekend was suspicious.

What stood out most was the air of confidence.

Soohyuk’s care for Jingyeom had become more natural, and Jingyeom, in turn, accepted it without hesitation.

Jinwoo was dumbfounded.

He subtly hinted that he knew about their relationship, but Jingyeom remained oblivious, and Soohyuk didn’t even bother to hide it.

The final confirmation came from Jingyeom’s notebook.

Jinwoo didn’t know if it was a habit, but Jingyeom wrote things down often, and this time, the notebook revealed everything.

It wasn’t structured, but Jinwoo could piece it together: ‘I’ve started dating Soohyuk. I need to tell Jinwoo, but I don’t know how.’

The rest was full of ramblings, mostly excuses from Jingyeom’s perspective.

But strangely, it helped Jinwoo organize his own feelings, if only a little.

Still, he couldn’t bear to lose Jingyeom like this.

He couldn’t just stand by and watch him date someone else.

‘Director Sun? Really?’

Not that he’d be fine if the other person were Wonbeom, but Director Sun?

That was unthinkable.

From what he’d seen of Director Sun, he was the last person who should be with Jingyeom.

Then again, no one would ever seem good enough for Jingyeom in Jinwoo’s eyes.

Whoever it was, Jinwoo would never approve.

Jinwoo tried to move his unsteady body.

He wanted to get closer to Jingyeom, but his limbs wouldn’t cooperate.

His arms felt like they were giving out, and he couldn’t lift his head properly.

Everything felt heavy—his head, his body, his heart.

Still, he refused to give up.

Staggering, he managed to get right up to Jingyeom.

By now, Jingyeom had leaned back against the bed, staring in shock at Jinwoo, realizing he knew.

“…Why Director Sun? …Why him?”

“…”

“…I like you more. I’ve been by your side longer.”

Though his words were slurred, this time they struck Jingyeom’s ears with painful clarity.

Jingyeom’s hand clenched on the floor.

He had always known a moment like this might come.

After Jinwoo’s sudden collapse back then, they hadn’t properly talked.

They both avoided the topic, and Jingyeom had hoped it would stay buried.

He wished it would just fade away.

Jingyeom wanted to close his eyes and ignore Jinwoo’s voice.

He feared that if he listened any further, even their bond as brothers might be irreparably broken.

He knew it was selfish, but he didn’t want to lose Jinwoo.

He wanted Jinwoo to be happy, but if that happiness required Jingyeom to stay by his side, he couldn’t grant it.

Jingyeom’s heart already belonged to Soohyuk.

From the beginning, Jinwoo had been someone he hoped would be happy—like family.

He had never thought of Jinwoo as anything other than a younger brother.

Sometimes like a friend, sometimes like an older sibling.

A comforting presence, a family member.

The stench of alcohol wafting from Jinwoo was overwhelming.

Even though Jingyeom hadn’t been drinking, he felt like he might get drunk just from the smell.

“…Jinwoo, you’re too drunk. Go to sleep, and we’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? Tomorrow… won’t work. You’re going to see Director Sun….”

“I’m not. I’ll be home… So just sleep, okay?”

As Jinwoo swayed closer, Jingyeom felt Jinwoo’s breath on his neck.

He tried to push him away, but Jinwoo leaned in even more, resting his forehead on Jingyeom’s shoulder.

The slow, exhaled breath felt as if it carried Jinwoo’s entire heart.

Hoping Jinwoo would fall asleep this way, Jingyeom gently patted his back.

“…We’ve always been together. It’s always been me, not him. Me, Jingyeom.”

Jinwoo’s trembling hand covered Jingyeom’s.

Every word Jinwoo spoke brought the faint quiver of his hand to Jingyeom’s palm.

Yet, his voice carried no hint of tears.

Jingyeom slowly closed his eyes.

‘It hurts.’

The hand holding his was burning hot.

The pressure from above was pressing him against the blanket.

His hand throbbed, but he knew Jinwoo’s heart must hurt even more.

He couldn’t pull away.

The pain in his hand mirrored the tightening in his chest, but he remained silent, hoping Jinwoo would calm down soon.

“…Why him? Why? …Why?”

Even as Jinwoo repeated the same question, each utterance carried a different depth of pain and torment.

It was as if Jinwoo had fallen into a whirlpool of emotions he couldn’t escape.

Jingyeom didn’t answer any of his questions.

Telling a drunken Jinwoo would be futile.

The answers were ones Jinwoo needed to hear sober.

As Jinwoo’s head lifted slowly from Jingyeom’s shoulder, the pressure on his hand finally eased.

Jingyeom opened his eyes as Jinwoo’s hand touched his cheek.

The touch was cautious at first, but as Jinwoo drew closer, Jingyeom hurriedly tried to push him away.

Thankfully, Jinwoo only rested his forehead against Jingyeom’s.

The slight collision brought a dull pain, but it wasn’t unbearable.

Jingyeom could see Jinwoo’s fluttering eyelashes trembling.

He felt the furrow of Jinwoo’s brow through the touch of their foreheads.

The closeness was overwhelming, and Jingyeom tried to pull back, but Jinwoo’s eyes opened.

“…”

They were unfocused, yet glistening with unshed tears. Jingyeom found himself unable to move.

Why did it feel like Jinwoo’s emotions were pouring into him just from the look in his eyes?

“…Jingyeom.”

“…”

“Jingyeom, Jingyeom… Jingyeom.”

As Jinwoo’s eyelashes trembled and his eyes closed, tears slid down his face, causing Jingyeom to feel his own eyes welling up.

“I like you. No, ‘like’ isn’t enough to express it… You’re the only one for me….”

“…”

When Jinwoo’s face drew closer, Jingyeom placed a hand over his mouth and pushed him back.

This time, Jinwoo collapsed backward with little resistance.

“…If this keeps up, we won’t even be able to stay as brothers.”

“…Why not?”

“Brothers don’t do this. They don’t get this close… I don’t want to lose you, Jinwoo.”

Even while maintaining a physical distance, Jingyeom couldn’t bear the thought of losing Jinwoo.

He wanted to keep him within the bounds of family, even if it was cruel.

But if Jinwoo couldn’t accept that… If he truly didn’t want that…

“Let go already.”

Jingyeom knew.

He knew that he was the one holding the leash in this relationship.

Even if he respected Jinwoo’s wishes, the ultimate decision lay with him.

That’s why he knew he needed to stay grounded and make a firm decision.

He was painfully aware of how his indecision had hurt Jinwoo.

All because he didn’t want to let Jinwoo go, he ended up making things far too hard for him.

“We’re not even real family…”

Once the papers were sorted, they’d truly be strangers.

Their connection was tenuous, but the bond they shared transcended that frail thread.

“Do we remain as siblings, or…?”

Jingyeom’s face twisted with anguish.

He didn’t need to finish the sentence; he was sure Jinwoo understood.

Right now, even knowing how cruel it was, Jingyeom was leaving the decision to Jinwoo.

After a pause, Jinwoo leaned back, putting distance between them.

“…That’s cruel.”

“I know. …I know I’m cruel.”

“…But I still like you. …Even so, I love you, Gyeom.”

“…”

“…So, I’ll be your younger brother.”

Jinwoo’s voice had been slurred and unsteady from drinking until now, but this declaration came through loud and clear, like it had been etched into Jingyeom’s mind.

Jingyeom pressed his eyes tightly with both hands.

Jinwoo was the one who should have been crying, yet he couldn’t allow himself to shed tears.

He had to hold back.

When his uncontrollable jaw began to quiver, he lowered his head as far as it would go, trying to hide it.

His bare, pale feet pressed together, and his body seemed to shrink in on itself.

Even though he knew Jinwoo would still see him, Jingyeom curled up as much as he could.

But he couldn’t stop his shaking shoulders from giving him away.

That was beyond his control.

Then, something warm touched his cold feet. It was Jinwoo’s hand, briefly, before a blanket was placed over Jingyeom.

“…I’ll go get some air. It’s cold, so go up and sleep…hyung.”

The sound of the electric mat being turned on, followed by the door closing, reached Jingyeom’s ears.

Raising his head, he stared at the firmly shut door.

His tear-streaked face bore the exhaustion of a long and harrowing day.

“…Hyung.”

Jinwoo had called him “hyung.”

And Jingyeom finally understood what that meant.

Jinwoo had been preparing for this moment all along.

That finality, contained in the word “hyung,” hit Jingyeom like an instinct.

Ah, this is really the end.

This issue will never resurface again.

Today…

Jinwoo had chosen to remain as siblings.

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