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Yo Han considered himself a skeptic. He had very little time or patience for speculation, philosophical conundrums, or far-fetched mysticism. There was no such thing as luck, fate, karma, or cosmic intervention.
Each person was responsible for their own actions and, consequentially, where they found themselves in life. Everyone faced hardships — some more than others — and there was no higher power, dictating who had earned what. Suffering was random, and so was happiness.
There was no plan, no great weave of predestined events, and no way to earn a better lot in life except through hard work and dedication.
That was something Yo Han had believed for a long time. The thought had begun to form as he grew older and started questioning his father's actions — wondering what Yo Han had done to deserve that ceaseless wrath — and it had solidified after the fire. That was when he had decided that there couldn't be a god. Or, if there was one, Yo Han refused to acknowledge him.
Any god who had decided that Isaac deserved to die like that was one Yo Han had no intention of following.
It was more comforting to believe in chance. That everything that happened — both the good and the bad — was unplanned and patternless. Both pain and joy were doled out arbitrarily, without consideration or mercy, all throughout life. Like a ruthless, never-ending game of Russian roulette. And the only thing humans could do was to choose how they wanted to handle whatever sentence they'd been dealt.
That was what Yo Han believed.
The only time he didn't — the only time he'd found himself wavering in his conviction — was when he opened his eyes in the morning and his gaze settled on the peacefully sleeping face next to him.
Waking up next to Kim Ga On made Yo Han believe, if only for a split second, that there must be some kind of higher power at play.
He couldn't think of any other reason why he would be given such a privilege.
It was nothing short of a miracle.
Not because Yo Han doubted his own conviction or ability to conquer the challenges placed before him. Yo Han knew full well that he could reach any goal he set for himself, as long as he put in the required time and effort. He could lie, manipulate, and cheat his way to anything. He could charm and seduce, he could persuade and inspire. People were gullible, begging for someone to show them the way — to give them meaning. They didn't even care if it was genuine or not, offering loyalty to false idols without a second thought.
Except Kim Ga On.
He was attentive, quizzical, and infuriatingly stubborn. He didn't believe Yo Han's lies, often going out of his way to question and challenge them instead. He could be swayed, but never fully tamed, that core of blinding, unflinching righteousness always beyond corruption.
Despite several attempts, Yo Han couldn't reach it. Couldn't break, entice, or claim it.
Kim Ga On remained his own.
And that was why Yo Han wondered if there might just be something greater at play — something steering them in a certain direction, without them knowing. That was the only plausible explanation as to why Ga On would choose someone like Yo Han. He had no other reason to. In fact, he had more reasons not to. Not just because of all the pain Yo Han had caused him, both directly and indirectly, but how much Ga On would have to continue to endure in the future.
Yo Han was cold, ruthless, and vicious and, no matter how hard he tried, he knew that would never change.
There was no saving or redeeming someone like Yo Han. Most of the time, he didn't even want to be redeemed.
Living with Yo Han was always going to be a struggle.
Why would anyone choose that? Let alone someone with so much potential? Someone so bright and pure?
That wasn't to say that Ga On should be underestimated. He had dark and violent sides, too — which intrigued Yo Han immensely — feeding that rash, feral anger that Yo Han had been on the receiving end of on more than one occasion.
He even had the scar to prove it.
But, despite that, Ga On's flaws were greatly overshadowed by his virtues. Kim Ga On was good in a way that was actually kind of annoying. Not only because it made him judgmental and obnoxiously inflexible at times — tipping straight into self-righteous — but also because it was so disarming.
Seeing someone be so kind and loving baffled Yo Han. Once he'd made up his mind, Ga On loved so fiercely and loyally, with such ease and unconditional devotion that it scared Yo Han. Because that openness made Ga On vulnerable — made him easy to hurt and exploit.
Hurting and exploiting people was what Yo Han did best, sometimes without thinking.
And Ga On knew that.
Why would he put himself at risk? Ga On was smart enough to know better. He should have run while he had the chance. Instead, he'd stayed with Yo Han, foolishly loyal, throwing himself into danger without a second thought.
It didn't make sense. There had to be some outside force, pushing Ga On to make such a stupid, reckless decision.
Yo Han drew a slow breath, his gaze trailing over Ga On's familiar features. He looked infuriatingly angelic with the morning sunlight slowly creeping into the room, caressing his bare shoulder and catching against the tips of his hair. Ga On was lying on his stomach, face half obscured by his pillow, his breaths steady and even. From this angle, Yo Han could see a glimpse of the tattoo spread out across Ga On's shoulder blade — a spot Yo Han never missed an opportunity to lavish with kisses.
It amused him to no end to see someone so prim and proper — so conscious of politeness and society's rules — with a tattoo. It had caught Yo Han's attention from the very first moment he'd seen it. Because even if Ga On claimed it was a juvenile mistake, it had said something about this seemingly well-behaved young man.
It had told a story that, slowly but surely, Yo Han had been able to piece together.
When let off the leash, Kim Ga On was a rebel.
And maybe that contributed to his recklessness and why he chose to stay with Yo Han, despite knowing what a bad idea it was. It certainly wasn't because of what Yo Han could offer him.
But, all that said — even if Yo Han knew he didn't deserve Ga On's devotion — he was too greedy to surrender it. Too selfish to do what he knew was right. He never had before, so why start now? Yo Han was too efficient for self-pity.
And too possessive to have a conscience.
In the end, it didn't matter what had brought Kim Ga On to him — fate or the thoughtless whims of a foolishly idealistic young man — because now that Yo Han had him, he intended to keep him. Yo Han loved Ga On too much to let him go. Sometimes, Yo Han even had to fight down the gnawing urge to lock him away, just like he'd done to Elijah, so desperate to protect her that he'd hid her from the rest of the world.
If Yo Han could, he would keep Ga On entirely to himself.
But he knew he couldn't. Not because it wasn't possible — Yo Han could easily have that arranged if he truly wanted to — but because it would hurt Ga On too much. Ga On's reaction to Elijah's forced captivity showed how much he loathed the idea. He'd no doubt fight it at first, with all that vicious, breathtaking rage that occasionally exploded out of him, but even he would grow tired eventually. And, slowly but surely, he'd weaken. He'd surrender and begin to wither, just like Elijah had.
Some days, that knowledge — that Yo Han would inevitably suck the very life out of Ga On if he followed through on his impulse — was the only thing keeping him from doing it.
Because, deep down, despite knowing that Ga On was loyal to a fault — even to those who didn't deserve it — Yo Han feared the morning he'd wake up and find that Ga On didn't love him anymore. It felt like an inevitability. Something bound to happen as soon as Ga On came to his senses.
He had no reason to love someone like Yo Han.
And it felt as if Yo Han would lose him if he didn't hold on firmly enough — didn't chain Ga On down and lock him away while he still had the chance. Yo Han loved Ga On so much that it flipped over into selfishness, where Yo Han couldn't ever see himself letting go. Yo Han wouldn't know what to do with himself if he wasn't allowed to love Kim Ga On in all his stubborn, beautiful glory.
Yo Han had forgotten what it was like to not love Ga On.
And he was pretty sure it was too late to go back.
Yo Han stared at Ga On's sleeping face and, after a brief moment of hesitation, he reached out, brushing aside a lock of hair that had fallen across Ga On's forehead. Yo Han could feel a surge of fondness, warm and breathtakingly fierce, filling his chest. Not long after, Yo Han's heart gave a silly little flutter that he pretended not to notice.
Ga On looked so peaceful, clearly having no idea about the thoughts circling through Yo Han's head — the danger he was in, every moment he chose to spend with Yo Han. Or how different his life would be, if Yo Han had had a little less self-control.
But, truth be told, Yo Han would soon end up hating himself if he ever tried to imprison Ga On the way he so desperately wanted. It was enough to know that Yo Han would eventually smother and devour him, as he did with everyone around him. He didn't need to hasten the process.
He should enjoy it while it lasted.
Yo Han also knew he should pull his hand back, not wanting to wake Ga On, but the temptation was simply too great. Yo Han couldn't resist smoothing his fingers over that soft, silky hair. He blamed it on not having seen Ga On in over three weeks.
Weeks that had felt a lot longer than Yo Han wanted to admit.
Ga On had arrived in Switzerland the day before, bright-eyed and smiling, looking like he was about to vibrate out of his skin from sheer excitement. Elijah had immediately laid claim, monopolizing Ga On's attention, wanting to show him their house, her progress with her physical therapy, her paintings, how the little beast of a cat was doing — the list was endless. And while a part of Yo Han had been frustrated — jealous, even — he'd allowed it. Mainly because he'd known that as soon as it was time to go to bed, Ga On would find his way back into Yo Han's arms.
He always did.
And last night had been no exception. Ga On had practically thrown himself at Yo Han as soon as the bedroom door had closed behind them, thrumming with need, so starved he'd been shaking. And, as always, Yo Han had taken great pleasure in fanning those flames and slowly, piece by piece, taking him apart. Until Ga On was breathless and trembling underneath Yo Han, his gasps and wanton moans singing in Yo Han's ears.
Though Yo Han's favorite sound by far had been the hitched, desperate little whine Ga On had let out when Yo Han had entered him. As if Ga On would have perished if he'd had to wait a second longer to feel Yo Han's cock inside of him. It was the single most addicting sound Yo Han had ever heard, so startlingly lewd yet beautifully sincere. Ga On hadn't even seemed aware of making it, too caught up in the pleasure.
Sometimes, Yo Han felt a little guilty about that — about how easy it was to overwhelm Ga On — but never enough to actually stop. Especially since there was no mistaking how much Ga On enjoyed it, always so responsive, so hungry for more that Yo Han sometimes had to completely redirect his focus just to temper Ga On's eagerness.
For being such an adorable prude, Ga On was also surprisingly enthusiastic — practically insatiable — when it came to sex. Not to mention unexpectedly wicked.
Yo Han's back was still stinging from Ga On's fingernails.
So, for the most part, Ga On held his own, headstrong and demanding, and quick to snap if Yo Han teased him too much. The objections were only superficial, of course — never lasting long, especially if Yo Han applied some pressure — but knowing that Ga On wasn't afraid to show his displeasure was a relief. And thrilling, too.
It wouldn't be as fun if Ga On didn't try to challenge Yo Han from time to time.
Ga On's penchant for defiance was one of the things that made him so fascinating.
And also something that, on Yo Han's good days, made him hope that Ga On would actually be strong enough to weather the storm. Maybe Yo Han would get to keep Ga On for a lot longer than he would otherwise have dared hope for.
Yo Han would like that. Not only for his own and Elijah's sake — she'd clearly grown hopelessly attached to Ga On by then — but Ga On's, too. While Yo Han had no illusions about the damage he would eventually cause Ga On, he still tried to offer something in return for all the kindness and devotion Ga On was showing him.
Yo Han knew that Ga On would be incredibly lonely without Yo Han and Elijah in his life, what with Yoon Soo Hyun dying and Min Jung Ho's betrayal.
And Kim Ga On wasn't built for loneliness.
He needed people around him, preferably ones he could dote on. There seemed to be an innate need within Ga On to take care of people. To feed them, protect them, and tenderly encourage them to grow — not unlike the plants he insisted on keeping. Everything he touched seemed to flourish, thriving under the attention of that gentle, unconditional love.
Kim Ga On was like the sun.
And while Yo Han knew there was no way for him to ever give that much in return — he wasn't capable, with so much darkness inside of him — he still tried. It was impossible not to, after seeing Ga On be so generous. Even if Yo Han knew he was a lost cause and probably had been since the day he was born, Ga On made him want to be better.
Yo Han wanted to give Elijah and Ga On the best life possible.
Which was one of the reasons why Yo Han couldn't help spoiling Ga On at every opportunity he was given — and some he fabricated. Ga On always argued that he didn't need material things, especially expensive ones, but Yo Han chose to ignore that. After living the life he had, growing up poor, barely scraping by, Ga On shouldn't have to worry about things like that ever again.
Kim Ga On deserved the world.
And if Yo Han hadn't known that Ga On would be absolutely horrified, he would have given it to him.
Yo Han wouldn't hesitate to give Ga On anything and everything he wanted.
Yo Han's hand wandered onwards, almost of its own accord, his fingertips trailing along Ga On's shoulder. It was warm from the sun, his skin even paler in the morning light. Yo Han's bedroom in Switzerland was a lot brighter than the one back at the mansion, the windows larger and walls not as dark. He hadn't bothered to renovate it, knowing they probably wouldn't settle there permanently. While Yo Han might not have many ties keeping him in South Korea, Ga On did and, sooner or later, Yo Han had a feeling he'd find himself back there, at least on a semi-regular basis.
Ga On fitted better into this bedroom. The soft, cream-colored walls, high, wide windows, and airy ceiling matching his inherent goodness. It only seemed to enhance that breathtaking light he always carried with him, making it shine even brighter.
He would probably look dull and lifeless in the bedroom at the house. Suffocated by all the gloom.
Like he didn't belong at all.
Yo Han's hand twitched against Ga On's shoulder, the sudden clench in his chest highly unwanted. He frowned, frustrated when instead of abating, it only seemed to get worse, spreading a numbing coldness through him. Which was a stupid reaction to have.
This was nothing new. Yo Han had always known that Ga On didn't belong with him, too kind, caring, and pure.
It shouldn't hurt that much.
But it did.
Yo Han slowly pulled his hand back.
He couldn't bring himself to look away, though. He could still have that, he told himself.
Yo Han pursed his lips, holding back a sigh. He hated self-pity. It was unproductive and, a lot of the time, even outright debilitating. Feeling sorry for oneself didn't solve anything. The only thing it accomplished was making Yo Han feel like a fool, as if he didn't have control over his own emotions. It wasn't rational to—
A slight change in Ga On's breathing made Yo Han snap back to attention. Ga On shifted next to Yo Han, almost lazily, before pushing his face more firmly into the pillow for a couple of seconds. Then, after relaxing again, he drew a deep breath and slowly opened his eyes. He still looked half-asleep, eyelids heavy and gaze barely able to focus.
Yo Han felt that silly flutter once again and was just as determined to ignore it.
Ga On wrinkled his nose — which didn't make him look any less adorable — before trying, and failing, to suppress a yawn.
"What time is it?" he asked, his words slurred, weighed down by drowsiness. And jetlag, no doubt.
Yo Han hadn't looked at the clock yet but gave an answer nonetheless. One founded in pure greed, since Yo Han didn't want this to end just yet. He wanted to stay in this quiet, blissful moment for a little while longer.
"Too early." He spoke softly, close to a whisper. "Go back to sleep."
Ga On hummed, seemingly accepting that answer without question, his eyes fluttering shut again. He was definitely too trusting sometimes, especially with Yo Han. He really should be more wary.
Then again, Kim Ga On had very little self-preservation to speak of.
Which he demonstrated rather aptly in the next moment when he shifted again, though this time with a clear goal in mind. Ga On turned onto his side and nestled closer, tucking his face against Yo Han's neck and burrowing down. Clearly intending to stay there.
Yo Han closed his eyes, trying his best to breathe through the fondness and embarrassingly strong rush of elation that washed over him. But he knew he was fighting a losing battle. The moment he'd realized what Ga On was about to do, he'd known.
Yo Han had no defenses against this.
Every time Ga On showed the unreserved, unflinching trust he had in Yo Han, he was helpless. It made Yo Han feel both giddy and absolutely wretched at the same time, proud to have somehow earned it, but also dreading the day he would break it. And, most of the time, the only consolation he had was that it hadn't happened yet.
As long as Ga On kept doing things like this, Yo Han still had Ga On's trust.
And Yo Han knew to treasure that, again much too selfish not to. He had no desire to deprive himself of the gift he was given.
Ga On should always be treasured.
And so, after a slow exhale — which trembled a little more than Yo Han wanted to admit — he wrapped his arm around Ga On, pulling him even closer. Ga On let out a low, sweet sound of contentment. Yo Han smiled, once again helpless, and, before he had time to start hesitating, buried his nose in Ga On's hair.
His next breath brought with it the familiar, comforting scent of Ga On and, try as he might, Yo Han couldn't stop the bloom of warmth inside his chest. At the same time, he didn't know why he even attempted to — why he tried to pretend that this wasn't everything he wanted. Aside from Elijah, Ga On was the biggest source of joy and brightness in Yo Han's life.
The love and devotion he felt for Ga On was one of the few things Yo Han knew he'd done right.
It may be more vicious and possessive than Ga On deserved but, at the very least, it was sincere. Anchored so deep inside of him that Yo Han knew yanking it out would mean tearing out a piece of himself.
Yo Han may be a lot of things, none of them good, but at least he loved with every fiber of his being.
And so, just maybe, he'd earned this. The softness and tenderness, and the breathtaking, disarming affection of one Kim Ga On.
It still sounded too good to be true, but Yo Han could live with that.
Because, in the end, it didn't matter how Ga On had ended up in his arms, as long as he chose to stay.
And it certainly didn't seem like Ga On had any intention of leaving anytime soon.