Chapter Text
The night is quiet, the kind of quiet that settles deep, wrapping around them like a heavy blanket. Gi-hun is warm beside In-ho, his arm draped lazily over his stomach, fingers tracing thoughtless patterns against his skin. There’s no urgency, no hunger—just the slow, steady rhythm of two men breathing in sync, bodies tangled in the kind of closeness that feels like something neither of them ever thought they’d get to have.
In-ho is half-asleep when he murmurs it, words slipping unguarded into the dark. "You know, you're the only person who's ever made me want to stay."
Gi-hun lets out a quiet laugh, but there’s nothing light about it. It’s hollow, the kind of sound that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. His fingers pause for the briefest second before resuming their absentminded path.
In-ho frowns, the weight of wakefulness settling over him. "What?"
“Nothing,” Gi-hun says, shaking his head. Another soft laugh, but this time it’s quieter, more like an exhale than a real attempt at humor. His voice is so matter-of-fact, so casual, that it guts him. "You're the first person who ever made me feel like I was worth staying for."
In-ho stops breathing.
It’s the kind of truth that lands like a blade between ribs—silent, precise, lethal.
Gi-hun doesn't seem to notice. Or maybe he does, and he just doesn’t think it’s a big deal. Maybe he’s lived with it for so long that he doesn’t even recognize the weight of what he’s saying.
But In-ho does. He feels it everywhere.
The room feels too small, too fragile to hold this kind of confession. In-ho shifts, rolling to face him fully, fingers ghosting over Gi-hun’s cheek before settling there, thumb brushing over his skin—tender, reverent. "You are," he murmurs, quiet but firm. "You always were."
Gi-hun swallows. His lips part slightly, and for a second, In-ho sees it—the want, the almost-belief. But old wounds don’t heal in an instant, and the doubt lingers, curling at the edges of his expression like something worn-in, something too familiar to shed so easily.
So In-ho presses closer, his voice sharper now, edged with something fierce, something unwavering. "You have no idea how easy it is to love you."
Gi-hun’s breath hitches. He searches In-ho’s face, like he’s looking for the lie, the catch, the inevitable flaw in his devotion.
But there is none.