Chapter Text
Juwon had always lingered a little longer when looking in the mirror, not to admire the perfect proportions of his face but rather the small mark that disrupted the symmetry. The beauty mark below his eye was like a blotted ink accidentally dropped to a pristine canvas — unplanned, but impossible to ignore. Sometimes, he’d lift his hand and trace it gently with his fingertip, and each time, a quiet ache stirred in his chest. It was beautiful, yes, but it held a strange sadness too.
He never quite understood why.
Once, he read that beauty marks were the places where a lover used to kiss you in a past life. That thought had stuck with him.
And when he thought about the one beneath his eye, he imagined someone—soft, familiar—pressing their lips there, again and again, as if to soothe tears before they fell.
Maybe he had always been a crybaby, even back then. Maybe someone had loved him enough to never let him cry alone.
There was a small café tucked away in a quiet part of town that Juwon visited often—the only one he knew that served banana-flavored frappuccino. It wasn’t popular, mostly because its desserts were too sweet and its drinks too odd for most people’s taste. But that was exactly why Juwon loved it. After long, chaotic hours with his rowdy dance crew, the quiet here felt like breathing.
Today, though, he wasn’t alone.
He usually never had to wait in line, but someone had beaten him to the counter. A young man in a long trench coat, about his height, stood ahead, placing his order.
“One slice of strawberry cheesecake and…”
Juwon couldn’t help but listen in. Good choice, he thought. I love this place’s strawberry cheesecake too.
Then came the next words.
“One banana frappuccino.”
Juwon’s eyes widened, lips parting in disbelief. His ears perked up like they’d heard magic.
That’s my exact order.
He nearly gasped out loud. It felt like finding a secret twin in the wild. He’d brought friends here before, but they always teased him— “That drink’s for kids,” they’d laugh.
But this stranger… this stranger got it.
For a moment, he wanted to say something, to turn and share a laugh like old friends reuniting—but then he remembered: he was shy, and this man was a stranger.
The man collected his tray and found a seat near the window. He sat still, blankly gazing outside, his face unreadable, as if waiting for time to tell him something.
And Juwon?
He couldn’t look away.
His eyes followed the stranger to his seat, watching with quiet awe. He was so mesmerized he didn’t notice his own order was ready until the barista called his name again.
He finally picked up his tray and found a table—two seats away, directly across. Not close enough to speak, but close enough to feel something soft stirring in the silence between them. Like sitting beside a memory he hadn’t made yet.
He stared, quietly, openly.
How could someone’s voice be that gentle—and their face even more so? And what a surprise, he had the exact same beauty mark on the right side of his face too.
That night, Juwon couldn’t sleep.
His mind kept circling back to the stranger from the café—the soft voice, the way the light had caught the beauty mark under his eye. It looped over and over like a song stuck in his head.
Did he like the order?
Will he come back tomorrow?
Will I see him again?
He wished the answers to all his questions were ‘ Yes’.
I should’ve asked his name…
Juwon closed his eyes and tried to recall every detail: the stranger’s sharp V-shaped jawline, the thick brows that gave his face quiet intensity, those big, expressive eyes. His sun-kissed skin. Heart-shaped lips. But what lingered most was the beauty mark beneath his right eye—just like his own.
His hair looked so soft, Juwon thought dreamily, I wanted to touch it...
And with that final thought, he drifted into sleep.
“Won-ah, hold onto mommy’s hand tightly so you don’t get lost. The fairies might come to take you—you're such a cute little thing.”
A middle-aged woman in a soft pink hanbok gently placed a small hand onto her skirt. It felt smooth, silk-like, and too delicate to make a firm grip. But Juwon obeyed anyway.
My hands… they’re small…
His thoughts sounded like a child’s. His perspective was also lower. He realized he was dreaming—vividly, like he was watching a film from inside the screen. So he just let the dream carry him.
“Fairies aren’t real, Mom… my teacher said so,” he said in a voice too high to be his own.
“Omo, omo—when did my little Won-ey become so clever?” his mother cooed, pinching his cheek. He didn’t flinch. Of course not. It was a dream.
Juwon, now Won, meant to stay close. He meant to be a good kid even in his dream. But in a crowd of adults, with legs moving too fast and voices blending into noise, the small frame of his body got swept away. Lost.
And then he found himself at the edge of a forest.
Eerily dark. Quiet. Dangerous.
Tears welled in his eyes as he stepped into the trees, calling for his mother through hiccups and sniffles.
The crying stopped when he saw him.
A boy stood in the middle of the woods, bathed in silver moonlight. Ethereal. Unmoving. Beautiful in a way that didn’t seem real.
“Mom… I believe you now,” little Won whispered, awe softening his voice. “I think fairies are real… but you never warned me they’d be this pretty…”
The boy was glowing.
Despite the fear, Won stepped closer—drawn like a moth to flame. He tried to move quietly, but the crunch of leaves underfoot gave him away.
“Who’s there?”
The boy’s voice was sharp, wary. His eyes, large and shining, darted toward Won. Cautious.
Won froze, but couldn’t stop studying the boy’s face. He realized the glow was from the boy’s tears that glistened under the moonlight. His clothes that seemed to flow with the wind in elegance were actually stained with dirt here and there. Not a fairy, not a prince. But just a boy.
“Who’s there?” the boy asked again, firmer this time.
“I-I brought candies…” Won stammered. He opened his tiny hand to reveal three little sweets sticking to his palm. His mom gave it to him earlier to keep him occupied.
The boy blinked, then let out a strange laugh—half mocking, half amused.
“You think I’ll spare your life for that? After you disturbed my peace?” His tone was teasing, but there was a flicker of mischief in his eyes.
Won squeezed his eyes shut. “I-I’m sorry. Please spare—”
Before he could finish, he felt something brush his palm.
When he opened his eyes, one of the candies was gone. The boy stood close now, too close, a smile spreading across his face.
“Oh, you bet I will,” he said playfully, popping the candy into his mouth. “Did I scare you? Sorry, I was only joking. You were like a trembling deer, I suddenly had the urge to tease you.”
Won stared. That laugh. He wanted to keep it in a bottle and listen to it every night.
The boy leaned in and gently wiped the tears from Won’s cheeks. “It’s dangerous here. Did you get lost? Where are your parents?”
But Won hated being treated like a child by someone who was barely older than him — especially someone who had been crying too.
Who is he to comfort me? he thought stubbornly.
Determined to even the scales, Won reached out with his small hands and, without hesitation, just like how a child would, wiped the boy’s tears away. Then, copying the boy’s worried tone, he said earnestly, "Are you lost too? Let’s find our parents together."
The boy blinked, surprised—but smiled softly. “No, I’m not lost. I’m just… here. Let’s find yours. They must be worried.”
He held out his hand. Won took it without hesitation.
They walked together, and it didn’t take long before they reached the road again—where a frantic woman in a pink hanbok was shouting his name, eyes wild with worry.
“Is that your mom?”
Won nodded.
“Go to her. She’s waiting.”
Won hesitated. The boy released his hand gently, urging him forward. But before running off, Won held out the remaining candies.
“What’s your name?”
The boy hesitated. “J-Jay. My name’s Jay.”
“I’ll come back again, Jay. Don’t get lonely, okay?” Won innocently smiled before running into his mother’s embrace.
Jay stood beneath the trees, hidden in the shadowed edge of the forest, until the boy—and the moment—were gone.
Juwon awoke, his heart pounding like a drum against his ribs.
Jay," he whispered into the dim room.
The dream was already slipping from his memory, like smoke through his fingers, but the face remained—bright and clear. The young boy looked so much like the man he had seen at the café.
Did I think about him too much that he ended up in my dreams?
Juwon shook his head, a soft laugh escaping his lips. He didn't want to overthink it. If anything, he was just a little happy that even in sleep, he could see him.
That afternoon, he found himself back at the little café—not just for the banana frappuccino or the peace and quiet, but with a new mission: to meet the man from his dreams.
I can do it, he told himself over and over, steeling his nerves.
But the moment he pushed open the door and caught sight of him—sitting at the same corner table as before—his courage crumbled like dry leaves. His heart hammered in his chest and his hands shook as he picked up his order from the counter. No, he wasn't ready. Not yet.
He sat down with a heavy sigh, lips pouting as he quietly placed his tray down. Maybe today, again, he would just sit and watch from afar—memorizing every line of that face that somehow seemed to pull at something deep inside him.
But then—
The man moved.
Juwon stiffened. Half-thinking he was about to leave, his heart sinking already. But instead, the stranger walked straight toward him, carrying his drink, and stopped by Juwon’s table.
"Is this seat taken?" the man asked with a disarming smile.
Juwon, stunned speechless, could only shake his head and gesture awkwardly at the empty seat.
The stranger chuckled—a sound so warm it made Juwon’s cheeks burn.
"Have you had your fill?" he asked, his tone playful.
Juwon blinked, confused. He glanced down at his barely touched drink. "N-no, I was just—"
"I wasn't talking about your drink," the man interrupted smoothly, the corner of his lips tugging into a smirk. "I meant you were staring at me yesterday. Have you had your fill now?"
Juwon’s face turned a deep, embarrassing shade of pink.
He noticed?! He thought he had been so subtle. Their eyes had never even met all those times he was staring at him!
"I-I'm sorry," Juwon stammered, flustered. "I didn’t mean to stare—"
"I don’t mind," the stranger said easily, sliding into the seat across from him, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"Name’s JL, by the way. What's yours?"
"Ju-Juwon," he managed to squeak out.
"Cute," JL murmured, just loud enough for Juwon to wonder if he heard it right.
JL leaned forward, propping his chin on his hand. "So, why are you here again today?"
"I—I always come here," Juwon replied quickly.
"Oh?" JL’s lips curved into a teasing smile. "Then... are you copying my order too?"
Juwon gawked at him, scandalized.
Excuse me?!
"I’ve always ordered this!" he protested, launching into a ramble about his beloved banana frappuccino and strawberry cheesecake.
JL just laughed, tossing in casual comments here and there, the conversation flowing easily between them—like they'd known each other for far longer than just today.
Time slipped away unnoticed.
And Juwon, despite himself, thought…
This was more fun than sitting alone, letting time pass as he tried to finish his afternoon snack.
That night, Juwon fell asleep with a smile tugging at his lips, his heart light and giddy.
JL.
JL.
JL.
He repeated the name over and over in his mind like a treasured secret, each time feeling a warm flutter in his chest. He hadn’t expected JL to be the one to approach him first—and he was so grateful for it. If it had been up to him, he knew he would have hesitated forever.
He closed his eyes, letting that happiness carry him into sleep.
When he opened his eyes again, he was back in the forest—but it was different now. Gone was the eerie moonlit gloom; in its place, the morning sun spilled golden light across the trees, making everything glow. It felt less like a dream and more like stepping into a memory.
He watched as the small version of himself—little Won—grew taller and taller with every blink, changing from a boy to a teenager, then into a young man, around the age Juwon was now. And through all those years, one thing remained constant: his visits to the forest, always finding his way back to Jay.
The forest had become their secret place, their quiet refuge.
Every tree, every winding path seemed to guide him straight to where Jay would be waiting. It was no longer a dangerous, forbidden place—but a second home, filled with whispered conversations and quiet laughter.
Won, who was shy around strangers, became endlessly talkative with Jay. He would chatter about his day, his dreams, his worries, while Jay would listen, smiling softly, as if every word was a treasure.
Jay rarely spoke about himself. He was a mystery that Won never quite unraveled.
The only real thing he ever managed to pry from him was that Jay was two years older.
One day, in a burst of childish respect, Won had started calling him "Mister Jay," thinking it was the right thing to do.
Jay always felt a little older, a little wiser—except for that very first time they met, when Jay had cried under the moonlight. After that night, it was always Won who ended up crying: over small heartbreaks, lost toys, scoldings from his parents. Jay never cried again.
At first, Jay just looked startled at the new title, but he didn’t say anything. So Won kept it up—"Mister Jay" this, "Mister Jay" that—until one day, Jay sighed loudly, a rare spark of exasperation breaking through his usual calm.
"Stop calling me that," he complained, a faint whine slipping into his voice. "Every time you do, I feel like I age a year."
Won had laughed so hard he thought his ribs might crack, secretly delighted at making Jay react in a way he hadn't seen before.
After that, he dropped the “Mister” and just called him Jay.
It felt easier somehow. Warmer. Like they had crossed some invisible line and come even closer.
Another day, Won caught Jay singing. He hadn't known Jay had such a beautiful voice—clear and gentle, like the breeze through the trees. When he asked, Jay said he was only practicing, that singing was a necessary skill for his work.
Come to think of it, Jay never really talked about what he did for a living. Won just assumed he must be a noble; Jay always carried himself with effortless grace, dressed impeccably whenever they met.
Because of Jay, Won had developed a love for the arts too—not singing (that, he thought, was a gift reserved for Jay alone)—but dancing.
Sometimes he’d spin and sway to Jay’s songs, sometimes playful, sometimes graceful, and Jay would watch him with a soft smile that made the whole world feel far away. Those moments felt sacred, the kind of memories Won wanted to keep in his heart forever.
Maybe it was that love, that brightness, that made Won reckless.
One day, filled with excitement, he asked his parents if he could formally study performance. He thought they would agree—they had always indulged him before—but this time, they were firm.
Dancing, they said, was for girls.
His father, stern and immovable, wanted him to train for the military, to become a high-ranking guard, just like him.
Their argument was explosive. The first real fight they'd ever had.
And where else could he run but to Jay?
Jay looked startled when he saw Won arrive in tears, his face crumpled with hurt.
Without a word, Jay cupped his cheeks, wiping away the endless tears with gentle hands.
"What’s wrong?" Jay asked softly. "Tell me."
"I... hate my parents," Won sobbed, voice breaking. "They... won’t let me dance."
Jay gave a small, sad smile and pulled him into a warm embrace.
"Sometimes," he murmured, stroking his hair, "we can't always get what we want. But when you're with me, you can dance as much as you like. You can cry as much as you like. You can do whatever you want. "
He hesitated before adding, "Your parents love you, Won. They're just... worried about you. Go home and apologize."
Won's heart sank. He thought—no, he had hoped—Jay would side with him, maybe even promise to take him far away.
"But... but—" Won protested, pressing his face deeper into Jay’s chest, unwilling to let go.
Jay chuckled softly but tightened his arms around him.
"Won-ah, someday you’ll miss them more than you know," he whispered.
Won tilted his tear-streaked face up, just in time to catch the look in Jay’s eyes: that quiet sadness behind his smile.
Jay never spoke about his own parents.
Was he... alone in this world?
The thought filled Won with a new, aching sorrow.
He clung to Jay harder, forgetting why he had even started crying in the first place. All he wanted now was to protect this precious person who had always been there for him.
After that day, something inside Won shifted.
Every time he looked at Jay, his chest would tighten.
Every time Jay called his name, his heart would race.
Every time their hands brushed, it felt like sparks igniting under his skin.
It was different from admiration or respect.
It was something deeper. Something he didn’t have the words for yet.
One afternoon, when Jay reached out to check his forehead—worried about the sudden flush on Won's face—Won nearly short-circuited on the spot.
"I-I'm fine," he stammered, feeling his ears burn.
"You’re sure? You’re burning up," Jay said, frowning. "I’ll go find some medicine—"
He was just about to stand when a woman suddenly emerged from the trees.
She was striking, almost out of place in the gentle forest, with her bold red lipstick and richly embroidered, revealing clothes.
The heavy scent of cigars and perfume clung to her, so strong that Won had to stifle a sneeze.
"So this is where you’ve been hiding," the woman drawled, snapping her ornate fan closed with a sharp flick.
Jay stiffened at her appearance.
"What are you doing here?" he asked quietly.
The woman sauntered closer, her gaze glinting with amusement.
"I was just curious where my little mutt had been disappearing to," she said, her voice honeyed but sharp. "You weren’t thinking of running away, were you?"
Jay said nothing, his whole body tense.
Then the woman’s attention turned to Won.
"And what do we have here?" she purred, lifting Won’s chin with the tip of her fan. "You didn’t tell me you were hiding such a little gem."
Before she could get any closer, Jay stepped in between them, shielding Won with his body.
"Don’t touch him," Jay said, voice low and firm. "He doesn’t belong in our world."
The woman only laughed, clearly entertained.
"I like it when you bare your fangs," she said sweetly. "You’ll make an even finer prize when you’re fully grown. Finish your business here and come back."
With a final snap of her fan, she disappeared back into the forest.
"Jay... who was that?" Won asked, wide-eyed.
Jay's hand was trembling slightly as he gripped Won’s arm.
"Don’t wait for me today," he said, forcing a smile. "Go home, okay?"
Won nodded reluctantly.
"I'll be back tomorrow," Jay promised.
But he never came back.
Day after day, Won returned to the forest, standing beneath the same trees where they once laughed together.
At first, he waited with fierce hope, certain Jay would come running out from behind the trees with a familiar smile.
But as the days stretched into weeks, and the vibrant green of summer began to fade into the brittle gold of autumn, that hope began to fray.
He told himself maybe tomorrow.
Maybe the next sunrise.
Maybe if he waited just a little longer.
But winter came, sharp and merciless, blanketing the forest in silence. And still, Jay did not appear.
The seasons changed around him — the world moving on — while Won remained rooted there, heart aching, eyes scanning the empty woods until even the trees felt like strangers.
Until hope, too, abandoned him.
"Liar," Won whispered, the last thing he said to the empty forest .
Juwon jolted awake, heart aching.
His hands trembled slightly as he sat up, the remnants of the dream still clinging to him like mist.
Jay’s smile. His warm voice.
The way he had disappeared, leaving Won standing all alone in the forest.
It felt like something had been ripped away from him. Like he had lost someone he desperately wanted to see.
Without thinking, he hurried to the café that morning.
The cool morning air bit at his skin, but he barely noticed. His feet moved on their own, carrying him straight to the café where he knew JL would be.
Where he hoped he would be.
He arrived much earlier than usual, the café still half-empty, the smell of freshly brewed coffee hanging in the air.
He chose the table by the window—their usual spot—and sat there, hands clutched together tightly in his lap, eyes never straying from the door.
It was just a dream, he told himself over and over.
Just a stupid dream.
But as the minutes trickled by, turning into hours, and JL still hadn’t come, the unease inside him grew into something darker.
It gnawed at him mercilessly, tightening around his heart until it hurt to breathe.
By the time the sun began to sink into the horizon, staining the sky orange and pink, Juwon had gone cold with dread. He didn’t even realize he was gripping the edge of the table until JL finally walked through the door.
The moment he saw him—tall, familiar, alive—relief flooded Juwon so quickly his vision blurred. It didn’t matter that they had just seen each other yesterday.
It felt like years had passed.
Like he had been Won again, standing in that sun-drenched forest, waiting endlessly for Jay.
His heart twisted painfully.
JL spotted him instantly, offering that easy smile Juwon had come to crave. But almost immediately, his smile faltered, sensing the shift in the air between them.
“What’s wrong?” JL asked, concern knitting his brows together.
The question was simple, but it unraveled Juwon completely.
Without warning, tears welled up in his eyes, and he ducked his head in shame, willing them away.
JL moved without hesitation, pulling a tissue from the dispenser and gently dabbing at Juwon’s face, catching the tears before they could fall.
"Care to tell me why you're being like this?" he asked, his voice low and careful, like he was afraid of breaking something delicate.
Juwon opened his mouth, but the words caught in his throat.
When they finally tumbled out, they were small and broken.
"I just… I just miss you," he confessed, his cheeks burning with embarrassment.
It didn’t make sense—they hadn’t known each other for long. It was ridiculous. He braced himself for JL’s laughter, for confusion, for the awkward rejection that was sure to come.
But none of it came.
JL only nodded slowly, his eyes softening.
"I see," he said simply.
He didn’t press, didn’t ask more questions, didn’t make him explain the unexplainable. He just sat there with him in silence, waiting for Juwon to gather himself again.
When Juwon finally wiped at his face and whispered, "I’m sorry," his voice barely a breath, JL leaned in and smiled.
"Don’t be," he said. "You can cry as much as you want in front of me."
The words hit Juwon harder than he expected.
They felt achingly familiar, like a thread tying the past and present together. He had heard something like that before—hadn’t he?
That night, Juwon found himself afraid to fall asleep.
He didn’t want to face that ache again—the crushing loneliness of waking up and realizing someone he loved was gone.
But no matter how tightly he fought it, sleep came for him anyway, soft and relentless, dragging him under once more.
Won grew older, taller, stronger.
His dream of becoming a dancer had long been locked away—sealed deep inside a chest buried within the quietest corners of his heart, along with the other precious things he could never fully let go of:
The memory of his first true friend.
His first real love.
His first heartbreak.
Back then, he hadn’t known what those feelings were. He had only understood how warm Jay made him feel, how safe, how needed.
But after being thrown into the larger world—meeting new faces, feeling new hands brush against his own—he realized it:
What he had with Jay was rare.
Something so special it almost didn’t feel real.
But it was too late.
The love they shared, so fragile and young, had withered before it even had a chance to bloom.
Today, he told himself, would be the last time.
He stood in the middle of the clearing, the trees bare and skeletal around him, the cold breeze biting into his skin.
"This will be the last day," he whispered to the empty woods, voice breaking just a little.
The forest, once alive with laughter, had become just another hollow place echoing with memories.
As he stood there, lost in the weight of his own farewell, a sudden rustling stirred the air behind him.
His instincts sharpened; his hand flew to the hilt of the sword at his waist, ready to defend himself.
But then—
"Won-ah."
The voice was soft. Gentle. Too achingly familiar for him to mistake it.
He froze.
He turned, scanning the tree line with desperate eyes. His heart thundered in his ears, his breathing shallow and fast.
Then—
From the shadows, he emerged. Not dressed in the colorful, elegant hanbok Won remembered, but in dark, muted clothes that clung to him like a second skin.
No bright silks, no gold embroidery. Just black.
But that face—
That beautiful, ethereal face—
It hadn't changed at all.
"Won-ah," Jay said again, his voice cracking slightly with emotion. "I missed you."
There was no hesitation, no thought.
Won ran.
He closed the distance between them in seconds and crashed into Jay’s arms, burying his face against his chest as sobs tore from his throat.
Jay caught him effortlessly, his arms wrapping tight around him, holding him like he would never let go again.
"You’re crying again," Jay whispered into his hair, voice full of fond exasperation. "You always cry when I see you.”
Won let out a choked, half-laugh and punched his shoulder weakly.
"Ouch!" Jay whined dramatically, and Won could feel the smile against his temple. "I’m joking, okay?"
Won pulled back slightly, just enough to look at him.
For a long moment, they simply stared—memorizing each other all over again, drinking in every line, every scar, every flicker of emotion.
Slowly, Jay raised a hand and cupped Won’s face, his thumb brushing the wetness under his eyes.
And then, gently, reverently, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to the tear tracks just below Won’s eye.
Won shivered at the contact, at the tenderness of it.
"You finally stopped crying," Jay murmured, a soft, almost embarrassed smile tilting his lips, as if he hadn’t meant to kiss him at all—like the feeling had simply been too much to hold back.
Won’s heart swelled painfully in his chest.
He smiled, leaning in and pressing a kiss just under Jay’s eye in return, lingering there for a moment longer than necessary.
"You were crying too," Won said teasingly, pulling back only slightly to look at him again.
Jay blinked, startled. "I’m not," he protested.
"You are," Won insisted softly. "I just know you are."
There were no apologies between them.
No desperate questions of "Where have you been?" or "Why did you leave me?".
No confessions, no declarations of love.
They didn’t need them.
Their bodies spoke louder than words ever could—through trembling hands on cheeks, through foreheads pressed together, through the way their breathing synced without even trying.
At that moment, the world outside the forest ceased to exist.
It was just them—Won and Jay—standing in the ruins of the past, rebuilding something new, something stronger, without needing to say a single thing.
And when Jay kissed him properly—softly, deeply, without hesitation this time—it was like a thread stitching all the broken pieces of Won’s heart back together.
Like he had finally come home.
That night, under the fading light, they held each other for a long time.
And for the first time in years, Won wasn’t afraid to hope again.
Juwon woke with tears clinging to his lashes, his chest tightening around an emotion he couldn't name.
That dream—
That feeling—
There were no words big enough to explain it.
All he knew was that his heart felt painfully full, overflowing with a love that seemed to have been returned to him all at once.
And all he could think about was JL.
He needed to see him.
He needed to touch him, to hear his voice again, to make sure JL wasn’t just some beautiful illusion crafted in his mind.
Was it strange to fall in love with someone in real life just because you kept meeting them in dreams?
Maybe.
But for Juwon, it didn’t feel strange at all.
When he saw JL again that day, when JL smiled at him—gently, naturally—Juwon was convinced that he would have fallen for him even without the dreams.
That tender smile.
That quiet thoughtfulness.
That was enough.
"You keep staring at me," JL said, his voice sounding teasing as they sat across from each other at their usual table in the café. "Is there something on my face?"
Juwon blinked, flustered, then blurted, "JL, why do you keep coming back to this café?"
It wasn’t as if they had ever promised to meet.
And honestly, there wasn't much to offer—just the same simple menu, the same quiet corner every day.
Yet JL kept coming back, just like him.
JL paused mid-sip, setting his cup down before looking directly into Juwon's eyes. "Because you're here."
The words struck Juwon like a blow, flooding his chest with a heavy, aching warmth. Flustered, he ducked his head, pulling the brim of his cap lower to hide the flush creeping up his cheeks.
It made him hope—hope for something more than coincidence, more than casual friendship.
"You’re such a player," Juwon mumbled awkwardly, his voice barely above a whisper. He didn’t know how else to react. Friendship was all he knew, and brushing off moments like these with teasing was safer than believing in them.
Because if JL wasn’t serious, if he was just being playful, Juwon knew it would hurt too much to take him at his word.
But JL's smile faltered. He frowned slightly, his lips pulling into a small, uncertain pout, "Do I come off as a player?"
He seemed genuinely concerned.
"I didn’t mean to," he added, voice small, before returning to his latte.
A heavy silence settled between them.
Juwon’s heart twisted in guilt.
In his attempt to protect his heart, had he hurt him?
Trying to mend the atmosphere, Juwon blurted, "Are you free tonight?"
JL blinked, clearly surprised, but then his entire face lit up with boyish excitement. "Yes! Why?"
"I’m meeting up with my crew. Wanna come?"
He hesitated, suddenly shy. "Dance crew. We just mess around at the park sometimes. Play music. Dance. It's nothing serious. You don't have to join, just... thought it might be fun?"
"I’m not good at dancing though," JL said with a laugh. "I might look stupid."
"It’s okay," Juwon grinned. "You can just watch and enjoy."
Later, under the pink and gold hues of the evening sky, Juwon met with his friends at the park.
JL stayed close by at first, a little awkward around new faces, but soon warmed up—cheering, clapping loudly after every dance.
Juwon could barely look anywhere else but at him.
When the crew finally took a break after the first song, Juwon beelined straight to JL.
"How was it?"
"You were amazing!" JL gave him an enthusiastic thumbs-up, smiling so wide it made Juwon's chest ache.
Juwon smiled back, the words spilling out before he could think. "Wanna dance with me for the next one?"
"But I told you—I can’t dance!"
"You don’t have to," Juwon chuckled. "Just move with me."
When the next song started, Juwon reached out his hand.
And JL—without a moment’s hesitation—grabbed it.
They stumbled toward the center of the park, laughing breathlessly as they moved to the beat without any rhythm, without any care for how they looked.
JL laughed so much he had to wipe tears from his eyes, his grip never once letting go of Juwon’s hand.
In the midst of their wild, clumsy dancing, they didn’t notice the fountain display beginning.
Streams of water shot up into the air and fell down in a fine mist, spraying them until their hair clung wetly to their foreheads, their clothes sticking to their skin.
But they didn't care.
They danced harder, laughing until their stomachs hurt, until the rest of the world blurred into nothing.
By the time the music faded and the crew packed up, the sky was dark and the air was cool.
JL shivered slightly from the wet clothes clinging to him, and without thinking, Juwon shrugged off his hoodie and draped it over JL’s shoulders.
JL blinked up at him, eyes wide and shining under the streetlights.
"Thank you," he whispered.
They didn’t part ways immediately.
Instead, they wandered aimlessly, side by side, through the empty streets, shoulders brushing occasionally.
When they reached a quiet corner of the park, hidden under the dense shadow of trees, Juwon stopped walking.
JL stopped too, turning to face him.
Their eyes met—silent, searching—and in that quiet space between heartbeats, something shifted.
Juwon stepped closer.
JL didn’t move away.
Carefully, hesitantly, Juwon lifted his hand and brushed a piece of damp hair away from JL’s forehead.
JL closed his eyes at the touch, breathing out shakily.
And when Juwon leaned in, JL met him halfway.
Their kiss was soft at first—uncertain, like testing the weight of a dream—but it deepened quickly, urgent and real.
Juwon cupped JL’s face with trembling hands, feeling him, anchoring himself to him.
JL’s hands slid around Juwon’s waist, pulling him closer, pressing against him until there was no space left between them.
It wasn’t just a kiss.
It was everything they had been holding back—every look, every touch, every unspoken word.
When they finally broke apart, both of them breathless, Juwon leaned his forehead against JL’s and muttered, "This feels like a dream."
“You’re not dreaming,” JL whispered.
And for the first time, Juwon believed it.
The following days became some of the happiest in his life—days filled with laughter, stolen glances, soft kisses exchanged when no one was looking.
In his dreams, too, Jay and Won were together—closer, more intimate than ever before.
He was so happy he didn’t notice, not right away, the faint, creeping darkness beginning to slip into the crevices of doubts inside Won’s mind in his dreams.
Won thought that having these stolen moments with Jay — hidden deep within the forest — was already enough. He didn't need to shout to the world that Jay belonged to him. It was enough that Jay chose to stay by his side, even if not every second. But sometimes, late at night, doubts crept into his heart.
Who was Jay with when they weren’t together?
Why had his once-soft hands become rough, calloused in ways that didn’t match the boy Won once knew?
What had happened during the long, aching years they were apart?
Won hated the questions, hated the way they clawed at the peace he'd tried so hard to build.
It only grew worse when Jay asked him, out of nowhere, "Won, what do you think of the emperor?"
Won, proud as ever as the captain of the royal guards answered without hesitation. “He is a just king. He punishes the wicked and protects the weak.”
He spoke with conviction — the kind born from loyalty, not questioning.
Jay only hummed quietly and said, "I doubt that. His throne was built on blood."
Won blinked. "What do you mean?
But Jay didn't answer.
Instead, he rested his head on Won's shoulder, his arms winding around his waist — silencing the conversation with his warmth.
"Jay," Won said, his voice tight with unease. "What do you mean?"
"It's nothing," Jay whispered against his skin, kissing him softly. Sweetly. Desperately. And Won — foolish, in love — let the words die in his throat.
Jay's kisses tasted like a goodbye even then, but Won was too drunk on love to notice.
Still, the doubts gnawed at him. Even when their bodies tangled together, even when they were always full of whispered promises and sweet nothings, there was a distance between them.
A distance Won could no longer ignore.
So, one night, beneath a sky heavy with stars and a bold full moon, when they decided to stay a little longer than a day in the forest, Won finally asked the question that had been eating at him.
"Jay," he said, voice trembling, "I want to know you. The real you."
"You already do."
"I don't," Won insisted. "I don't know where you came from. I don't know why you were crying the first time we met. I don't know what pain you hide behind that smile."
Jay stared at him for a long, quiet moment.
Then he smiled, a smile of silent resolve, and said, "If it will ease your heart, I won't keep anything from you."
One by one, Won asked his questions. And one by one, Jay answered, never once looking away.
He spoke of parents branded as traitors.
Of losing everything as a child.
Of a brothel owner who "invested" in him, a life he ran away from before it could ruin him entirely.
"...I couldn’t bear the things they expected of me," Jay said quietly.
"I ran away that night. How could I ever touch someone else," he paused, his voice thick with emotion, "when the only person I ever wanted to hold was you?"
Jay’s gaze met Won’s — steady, unwavering — as if trying to carve the truth directly into his heart.
"All those years," he murmured, brushing his fingers over Won’s trembling hands, "I thought only of you."
His voice was a whisper, but it carried the weight of every lonely night he had endured.
"From the very first moment we met, you were my light, Won. The only warmth I had left.
I lived for you.
I endured for you.
You were the only thing worth protecting in a world that tried to break me."
Won couldn't hold back the tears.
Jay cupped his face, kissing away each falling drop like it hurt him to see Won cry.
"This is why I didn’t want you to know," Jay whispered. "You're too soft-hearted for ugly stories like mine."
Won held him tighter, burying his face in Jay’s chest.
"I love you, Jay."
Jay smiled and kissed the top of his head.
"I know," he said.
There were still so many questions lingering on the tip of his tongue. But as Won watched the tired tenderness in Jay’s eyes, he realized — the stories Jay had shared tonight were already more than enough to carry.
So instead, he made a quiet promise to himself:
He would stay by Jay’s side, patiently, gently, healing the wounds he couldn’t yet see.
Won thought they had all the time in the world.
He was wrong.
When the rebellion broke out, Won was assigned to protect the emperor. He fought with everything he had, leading the guards in the dark chaos of the night.
He never expected to see him there — dressed in black, face half-hidden by a mask, but those eyes — Won would recognize those eyes anywhere.
"Jay?"
Won’s sword faltered in his grip.
"Jay, what are you doing here?"
Jay didn't answer.
He only moved, swift and certain, toward the emperor.
Won blocked his way, heart pounding.
"Jay," he pleaded, "don't."
"This man murdered my family," Jay said, voice low and shaking with rage. "I have waited for this moment my entire life. Don’t stop me."
Won had always relented to Jay's requests.
But this time, Won couldn't grant it.
"I have a duty," he said. His sword trembled. "Please... don't make me choose."
Jay hesitated, pain flickering in his eyes.
Around them, the battle raged.
They had only seconds.
"I endured everything for this," Jay whispered. "For justice."
"But you told me I was your family now," Won choked out. "Isn’t that enough?"
Jay’s gaze softened — heartbreakingly so.
He reached up slowly and touched Won's cheek, the same way he had that night under the stars.
"You are enough," Jay whispered. "You’ve always been enough."
Won saw it then — the way Jay’s hand moved, not toward his sword but toward his own heart.
"No—!" Won shouted, lunging forward.
But he was too late.
Jay drove the blade into his own chest, just below the ribs — carefully, precisely — enough to ensure death without suffering.
Won caught him as he fell, cradling Jay against him, blood staining their clothes.
"Why... why?" Won sobbed, holding him tightly.
Jay smiled faintly, fingers brushing the tear tracks on Won's face.
"I couldn't... make you choose," Jay rasped. "Not between me... and your honor."
"You idiot," Won wept. "You idiot, I would have chosen you."
Jay’s breathing slowed. His body grew heavier in Won’s arms.
"But you would have hated yourself," Jay whispered.
"And I could never... be the reason... you hate yourself."
The stars blurred above them. The world spun away.
Jay’s hand slipped from Won’s cheek, falling limp at his side.
Won cried out — a raw, broken sound — and gathered Jay’s body tightly in his arms. He kissed the tears still clinging to Jay’s lashes, over and over again, desperate to catch them before they could fall. Desperate to deny what was already happening. The warmth was already leaving Jay’s body, turning cold in Won’s embrace.
It felt impossible.
How could something so precious end in the blink of an eye?
Who would wipe his tears now?
Won pressed Jay closer, burying his face against the blood-stained fabric, refusing to let go — as if clinging tighter could somehow bring him back.
And when the dawn finally broke over the battlefield, Won was left alone — with blood on his hands, broken promises in his heart, and a love that had burned too brightly to survive.
Juwon woke up with tears streaming uncontrollably down his face — and this time, no matter how much he tried, he couldn't stop them. His whole body shook with the force of it, broken and utterly wrecked by the weight of what he had seen.
It wasn’t just a dream.
It wasn’t just some story his mind had conjured up in sleep.
He understood now — finally, painfully — that Won and Jay were real.
They were memories of a life once lived.
A love once had.
A tragedy that once tore two souls apart.
He clutched his chest as if trying to hold the pieces together, but it was no use. The grief of a love lost across lifetimes was too much to bear.
A voice broke through the fog of his sorrow.
"Why are you crying again?"
Juwon looked up through blurry eyes — and the moment he saw him, he bolted. Without a second thought, he threw himself into JL's arms, burying his face against his chest. JL staggered a little but caught him easily, wrapping his arms around Juwon with a soothing touch.
Juwon held on like a drowning man clinging to driftwood, afraid that if he let go, this person — his person — would vanish again.
He remembered now, through flashes of last night’s haze: they had gone out drinking, talking about everything and nothing until the world spun pleasantly around them. One thing led to another, and Juwon had ended up crashing at JL’s place, safe and warm.
JL’s hand ran gently up and down his back.
"Shh, I’m right here," he murmured, even though he had no idea what Juwon was grieving over.
When the tears finally slowed to hiccupping gasps, Juwon pulled away just enough to look up at him, still trembling. He needed JL to understand. He needed to say it out loud — otherwise it would eat him alive. In broken, halting words, Juwon told him everything.
About the dreams.
About Won and Jay.
About the love so fierce and bright it defied death — only to end in blood and heartbreak.
He spoke of promises made under starry skies, kisses stolen between battles, and a devotion that even betrayal couldn’t erase. He told him about the pain of goodbyes they never got to finish, about the sacrifice that left Won alone, clutching a lifeless body and a thousand unsaid words.
And all throughout, JL listened.
He said nothing — just silently wiped away Juwon’s tears with the pads of his fingers, holding him like something fragile and precious.
When Juwon finally finished — voice raw and heart stripped bare — a heavy silence settled between them.
Juwon sat there, blinking back more tears, unsure what would happen now.
Would JL think he was crazy? Would he laugh?
Instead, JL let out a small, breathy laugh — the kind that sounded more like a sigh of relief.
"No wonder I couldn’t take my eyes off you the first time we met at the café," he said, his voice warm and low.
"I thought you were just cute back then — sneaking glances at me when you thought I wasn’t looking. I had to fight so hard not to burst out laughing." He reached out and rubbed his thumb lightly over Juwon's beauty mark, lingering there for a moment like it was something sacred.
"So we're meant for each other, huh," he whispered.
Juwon huffed, cheeks reddening despite himself.
"That's not the point," he mumbled, trying to sound stern but failing miserably.
JL chuckled — soft and utterly unbothered — and leaned in just a little closer.
"For me, it is," he said teasingly. "It made you stop crying, didn’t it?"
Juwon tried to scowl at him, but his heart wasn’t in it.
The familiar pull between them was too strong — a magnetic force that had crossed centuries just to find its way back.
JL’s expression softened, the playful glint in his eyes giving way to something deeper, more serious.
"There’s just one thing I regret," he murmured.
Juwon swallowed hard.
"What is it?"
JL brushed Juwon’s hair back from his forehead, fingers featherlight against his skin.
"Jay never got to say 'I love you' to Won before..." he trailed off, the weight of what he wasn’t saying hanging heavy in the air.
Without giving Juwon a chance to react, JL leaned forward and pressed a tender kiss to the small beauty mark on Juwon’s face — the one he had touched so reverently moments ago.
And in the softest, surest voice, he whispered:
"I love you, Juwon."
Juwon froze — breath caught in his throat — as his heart cracked open all over again, but this time it wasn’t pain that spilled out.
It was something warmer.
Something achingly beautiful.
Hope.
He didn’t hesitate.
He didn’t overthink.
He just cupped JL’s face between his hands and whispered back, voice trembling but true:
"I love you too, JL."
JL smiled then — a real, full smile that lit up his entire face, like the sun breaking through the clouds after a long, bitter storm. He pressed his forehead against Juwon’s, their breaths mingling, their hearts finally beating in sync again after so many lifetimes lost.
This time, there would be no regrets.
This time, they had all the time in the world.
And this time,
they chose each other.
Juwon had always loved the beauty mark beneath his eye — but now, he cherished it even more. Now that he knew the story it carried, the ache in his chest began to ease. It wasn’t a mark of sadness anymore; it was a quiet reminder of a love that had never truly left him.