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“I have to be the only thing on your mind until Sunday," Hari said, his voice a fragile plea.
“You’re all mine until then.”
Hari's plea carried weight, laden with unspoken implications. He understood the impossibility of asking WooJae to abandon his family for him. All he could grasp was this fleeting moment, this ephemeral embrace. Until Sunday, he would be the one WooJae would hold and kiss. Until Sunday, they would dance on the edge of something more, tantalizingly close yet painfully out of reach. Until Sunday, Hari would dare to entertain the notion of belonging to WooJae, and WooJae to him. For the first time, he wished the days were longer.
The emotional turmoil was evident on his face when WooJae found him. Guilt weighed heavily on him for dragging WooJae's family into the mess, and part of him felt he deserved the media frenzy that had erupted. Yet, a part of him desperately wanted WooJae to come looking for him, and that part was relieved when WooJae showed up, right in front of his car.
"You shouldn’t have come here to look for me." Hari said, but deep down, he was overwhelmingly glad WooJae had come. The early morning light cast a soft glow around them, adding a surreal quality to the moment.
Did WooJae really drive all this way just to find him? Hari's mind raced with the possibilities. Had WooJae left his home in the dead of night, thoughts consumed by worry and longing, just to see him? The idea filled Hari with a mix of hope and confusion.
Could this mean WooJae cared for him more than he was willing to admit, even to himself? The questions swirled in Hari’s mind, each one more intoxicating than the last. WooJae's presence here, now, seemed to answer those questions in a way words never could.
Initially, Hari's plan was simple: exchange greetings and part ways, hopefully forever. But he couldn't suppress the urge to ask WooJae to stay. A violent storm provided the perfect excuse, and WooJae reluctantly offered to stay the night. Hari knew he couldn't trust himself alone with WooJae, but he had hoped WooJae would be the responsible one and keep his distance.
Before Hari could open the door to his room, WooJae blocked his path, pressing his hand against the doorframe just above Hari's head. The sudden closeness made Hari's heart race. WooJae's eyes bore into his, a mix of confusion and intensity that left Hari feeling exposed.
"Why did you send those gifts to my mother?" WooJae asked, his voice low and demanding. It was a question loaded with suspicion and curiosity. Hari had hoped this gesture would go unnoticed, a secret act of kindness that wouldn't be traced back to him. But now, standing inches away from WooJae, he felt the weight of his actions pressing down on him. Hari tried to downplay their significance, wanting WooJae to believe it was all a calculated act.
But deep down, Hari knew it was more than that. There was a part of Hari that desperately wished WooJae knew how deeply he cared for him. It wasn't just a fleeting attraction or a means to an end; it was a longing to truly belong to WooJae, to be loved by him, and to be a part of his family. Hari wanted WooJae to understand that the moments they shared were genuine, not just fragments of a vengeful scheme. He yearned for WooJae to see past the facade and recognize the sincerity of his feelings, to know that every touch, every glance, held real emotion and not just a calculated move in a revenge plot.
"Please don't stop kissing me," Hari begged, his voice breaking. WooJae, unable to resist, indulged him. They thought that this was their first and last time together, a fleeting moment of intimacy that both knew could never be repeated. WooJae realized that by crossing this line, he could no longer pretend to be confused about his feelings for Hari. The reality of his emotions hit him hard—there was no way he could go back to his wife now. But leaving Seojin wasn't an option, not just yet. The impact on their daughter, Yebin, would be devastating. WooJae felt trapped, torn between his duty as a father and his undeniable love for Hari.
As WooJae's lips met his, Hari felt an overwhelming sense of peace and belonging, emotions he had long suppressed. Being held by WooJae, he experienced a warmth and safety that he had never known before. Despite the storm raging outside, in WooJae's arms, everything felt calm and right, if only for a moment.They only had this weekend to themselves, and they vowed to make the best of it. Every moment was precious, every touch a memory they would cherish forever. If they couldn't be together, they would at least have this stolen time, a bittersweet reminder of what could never be.
WooJae's hands roamed gently over Hari's back, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss that left both of them breathless. The tension that had built up over months of stolen glances and lingering touches finally found release. Hari's fingers threaded through WooJae's hair, pulling him even closer, their bodies pressed together with a desperate urgency. The soft moans escaping from Hari's lips only spurred WooJae on, his hands exploring the contours of Hari's body with reverent intensity.
They moved to the bed, shedding clothes with a mix of haste and tenderness, each touch a silent confession of their longing. WooJae's lips trailed down Hari's neck, eliciting shivers of pleasure that made him arch into the touch. The intimacy of the moment, the raw emotion in every caress, made Hari feel cherished in a way he had never experienced before. As they lay entwined, the world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the two of them, lost in their own universe.
On Sunday morning, Hari woke up and instinctively reached out to the space on the bed where WooJae had lain, only to find it cold and empty. A pang of sadness hit him as he realized WooJae was already gone. "He didn't even let me say goodbye," Hari thought, his heart heavy with disappointment and longing. Perhaps WooJae, like him, couldn't bear the finality of a farewell.
The day before, WooJae had confided in Hari about his decision to separate from his wife. It was a complicated arrangement—WooJae would still play the part of a weekend husband for the sake of his daughter, but during the week, he and his wife would live separate lives. The thought of WooJae leading this fractured existence filled Hari with a deep sorrow. He desperately wanted to ask WooJae to be with him instead, to forget the complexities and just choose love. But he knew he couldn't. He had already taken so much from WooJae, disrupted his life in ways he hadn't intended.
Hari lay back down, staring at the ceiling, lost in his thoughts. The memory of WooJae's touch, his scent lingering on the sheets, made the emptiness even more pronounced. He tried to rationalize it, reminding himself that all he ever wanted was for WooJae to be happy, even if it meant they couldn't be together.
As the morning light filtered through the curtains, Hari reflected on the fleeting moments they had shared. Every kiss, every whispered word, had been a treasure. He knew these memories would have to sustain him in the days to come. Despite the pain, there was a bittersweet gratitude in his heart. He had experienced something real, something profound, even if it was only for a short time.
With a deep sigh, Hari got out of bed and prepared to face the day. He knew he had to let go, to find a way to move forward. But a part of him would always hold on to the hope that, someday, their paths might cross again. Until then, he would cherish the memory of WooJae, the man who had briefly but indelibly touched his heart.