Chapter Text
The smell of the house was different from the sterile, metallic scent of the prison. This smelled like fresh wood, citrus, and... him.
He looked at the polished wood, the soft glow of the lamps, and the sheer permanence of the walls. It felt like a dream he hadn't earned the right to have.
He had expected a hotel, somewhere temporary. He was ready to live out of a duffel bag for the rest of his life.
“I realized being inside... you don’t actually need that much,” he’d told Chiwoon during the silent car ride. He’d meant it. TJ convinced himself that he would be content with nothing because he believed he was nothing.
But then the door had opened, and there was Youngwoo.
"How about this house...?" Youngwoo asked, his voice a low vibration in the quiet room. He stepped closer, his gaze scanning TJ like he was checking for cracks in a porcelain statue. "I hope you like it here."
TJ’s throat felt like it was full of glass. He looked at the warm lighting and the solid walls, feeling a sudden, sharp pang of unworthiness. Why was he here? Why did he get to have this when he’d spent so long holding onto a life that had nearly destroyed them? He’d wasted years on the wrong priorities, thinking he had to be a "somebody" with power for Youngwoo to even want him. He truly believed that without that status, he was nothing. The guilt of it felt like a lead weight in his stomach.
Youngwoo broke the heavy silence, his voice pulling TJ out of his thoughts.
"…I went through hell getting it ready," Youngwoo added, his eyes searching TJ's.
The words shattered the last of TJ’s defenses. It wasn't the gang’s money that had built this. It was Youngwoo’s sheer, stubborn love. TJ didn't care about the house. He didn't care if they were living in a shack or the gutter. As he looked at the man before him, he realized that "not needing much" meant he only needed one thing. All he wanted, the only thing he had ever truly needed was Shin Youngwoo.
He moved forward, his arms wrapping around Youngwoo in a crushing, desperate hug. He buried his face into the crook of Youngwoo’s neck, breathing him in, letting the warmth of another human being melt the last of the prison chill from his bones. It was a silent apology for the time lost and a promise for the time they had left.
When they finally pulled back, they didn't break contact. They stayed inches apart, searching each other's eyes in the soft light of their new living room. TJ saw the exhaustion in Youngwoo’s gaze, the "hell" he’d gone through, and the unwavering devotion that had kept him waiting.
TJ reached up, his hand cupping Youngwoo’s jaw, his thumb tracing the line of his lip. Then, he leaned in.
As their lips met, Youngwoo’s hands immediately moved to the back of TJ’s head fingers diving deep into the dark hair that had finally grown out. He gripped the strands firmly, tugging TJ closer, claiming him with a possessive strength.
Now, feeling those fingers wind through his hair and the heat of Youngwoo’s palms against his scalp, TJ leaned into the touch, a memory flickering of when his head had been buzzed and prickly, and Youngwoo had complained then, missing the softness.
They eventually broke the kiss, but neither moved away. They stayed there, foreheads pressed together in the quiet house. The air was thick with things left unsaid, but Youngwoo was the one to break the silence.
"…사랑해," Youngwoo whispered, the words a soft, final seal on their new life.
I love you.
TJ stiffened, a physical jolt of shock humming through his spine. His eyes flew open, searching Youngwoo’s face with a raw, panicked intensity. He’d to have heard that wrong. I love you? Now? When he had no gang, no money, and no power to offer?
TJ stood paralyzed, the silence stretching between them. His heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird.
"I'm sorry," TJ choked out, his voice a fractured wreck. He gripped the back of Youngwoo’s shirt, his knuckles turning white. "I'm so sorry, Youngwoo."
He wasn't just apologizing for the time away. He was apologizing for the years of being a fool.
"I thought... I thought I was nothing without the gang," he sobbed into Youngwoo’s neck, his broad shoulders shaking with the force of his release. "I thought you only looked at me because of what I was. I was so desperate to keep you... I did shitty things. I stayed in that life because I thought I had to be something someone for you to want me."
He pulled back just enough to look at Youngwoo, his eyes bloodshot and swimming with tears. "I misunderstood everything. I thought I needed to give you the world, but all you wanted was me. Just me. And I almost destroyed us both trying to be something I didn't even want to be."
Youngwoo didn't pull away. If anything, his grip on TJ’s hair tightened, pulling him back in until their foreheads were locked together again. His own eyes were wet, watching the man he loved finally strip away the last of his armor.
"I don't care about the gang, Taejoon," Youngwoo whispered, his voice thick with emotion.All I ever wanted was just you, oh Taejoon."
TJ let out a shaky, broken exhale, the guilt that had been a lead weight in his chest for years finally starting to dissolve. TJ closed his eyes and let his tears fall freely. For the first time, he let himself be truly vulnerable before the man who loved him simply for being him.