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Jeong Jihoon had no plan when he ran away from home.
No destination.
No money worth mentioning.
No carefully packed suitcase waiting by the door.
He had simply reached a point where staying had become more frightening than leaving.
So he left.
He walked until his legs hurt, took buses whenever he could afford them, and spent long stretches sitting in places where nobody knew his name. He didn't know where he was going. He only knew he needed to get as far away as possible.
That was how he met Park Jaehyeok.
The car had slowed beside him sometime after midnight.
Jihoon remembered the headlights first. Then the window rolling down.
A man sat behind the wheel, black hair falling messily over his forehead. He didn't look much older than Jihoon. There was something strangely calm about him, though, something that made Jihoon wonder whether he'd noticed the desperation on his face.
"You need a ride?"
Jihoon stared at him.
He should have said no.
Every sensible thought in his head told him to keep walking.
Instead, he nodded.
"Yeah."
Jaehyeok didn't ask where he was going.
That was the first thing Jihoon remembered about him.
The second was the silence.
They barely spoke during the drive. Jaehyeok simply drove, one hand resting against the steering wheel while the other occasionally shifted gears.
Jihoon slept.
When he woke, the scenery outside had changed.
He was farther away.
Exactly what he'd wanted.
Days became weeks.
Somehow, Jihoon stayed with Jaehyeok.
It wasn't supposed to become anything permanent.
Neither of them talked about tomorrow.
They found cheap motels, ate whatever they could afford, and moved whenever staying somewhere too long became inconvenient.
And somewhere along the way, the distance between them disappeared.
There were nights when they slept beside each other.
There were mornings when Jihoon woke to find Jaehyeok already awake, staring at the ceiling.
There were arguments.
There were quiet apologies.
There were moments when Jihoon wondered if he'd made the worst decision of his life.
And there were moments when he thought he'd finally found someone who understood why he'd needed to leave.
Jaehyeok never told him what he should do.
Never demanded that he return home.
Never asked him to explain every scar left behind by the people he'd escaped.
For a while, that was enough.
Until the police came.
The motel room door exploded inward.
Jihoon remembered shouting.
He remembered hands grabbing him.
He remembered Jaehyeok being forced to the floor.
Most of all, he remembered the accusation.
Kidnapping.
The word followed him everywhere after that.
His parents came.
The police questioned him.
Adults spoke around him as though he weren't sitting right there.
They called him confused.
They called him manipulated.
They said Jaehyeok had taken advantage of him.
Jihoon tried to tell them otherwise.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Nobody listened.
At the trial, he sat behind his parents and watched Jaehyeok being led into the courtroom.
Jaehyeok looked different.
Older.
Tired.
There were dark circles beneath his eyes, and his expression was almost frighteningly blank.
Their eyes met for only a moment.
Jihoon's heart broke.
"He's not guilty," Jihoon said.
His mother immediately grabbed his wrist.
"Jihoon."
"He didn't kidnap me."
"Stop."
"He helped me."
"Enough."
Everyone told him to stop.
The lawyers.
His parents.
The people who claimed they were protecting him.
They had already decided what had happened.
They looked at Jihoon and saw someone incapable of knowing his own mind.
Someone conditioned.
Someone manipulated.
Someone who couldn't possibly have chosen Jaehyeok willingly.
The truth was far simpler.
Jihoon had chosen to get into that car.
He had chosen to stay.
And Jaehyeok had never forced him to remain.
But none of that mattered.
The verdict came.
Jaehyeok was taken away.
Jihoon never saw him again.
For years, he tried to forget.
He went to school.
He worked.
He moved out.
He built a life that looked normal from the outside.
He learned not to mention the name Park Jaehyeok.
Eventually, people stopped asking.
Eventually, even Jihoon stopped asking himself what might have happened if he'd been louder.
Until years later, when he found the address.
A cheap apartment.
Old building.
Peeling walls.
Mold around the edges of the entrance.
The sort of place someone disappeared into when they wanted the world to forget them.
Jihoon stood outside for several minutes.
His hands were cold despite the summer heat.
He could still turn around.
He could walk away.
Nobody would know.
Nobody would blame him.
Nobody would ask why he'd gone looking for a man he'd last seen being taken away in handcuffs.
But Jihoon had spent years wondering.
Wondering what Jaehyeok had thought.
Wondering whether he had hated Jihoon.
Wondering whether he believed Jihoon had abandoned him.
Wondering whether he had ever thought about that motel room again.
So Jihoon raised his hand.
Knocked.
Once.
Twice.
There was movement inside.
Footsteps.
A lock clicked.
The door opened slightly.
A black-haired man wearing glasses appeared behind it and cautiously peeked outside.
"Yes? May I help you?"
Jihoon's breath hitched.
The glasses were new.
The tiredness wasn't.
He knew that face.
Even after all these years, he knew it.
Park Jaehyeok stared at him.
And for one terrible, impossible second, neither of them moved.
Then Jaehyeok's expression changed.
Recognition.
Disbelief.
Something Jihoon couldn't name.
"Jihoon?"
His name sounded exactly the same.
And suddenly, years of silence felt like they had never existed.
-
"Why are you here—"
Jaehyeok's eyes hardened.
Jihoon froze.
He had never seen that look on him before.
Not during the countless nights they had spent together. Not during their arguments. Not even during the courtroom, when Jaehyeok had looked exhausted and defeated but never angry at Jihoon.
Now there was something cold in his expression.
Fear, perhaps.
Or anger.
Maybe both.
Jaehyeok suddenly slammed the door shut.
"Please leave."
The words came through the door.
Jihoon's heart sank.
"You'll get both of us in trouble like this."
"Jaehyeok-hyung—"
Click.
The lock turned.
Jihoon stared at the door.
For several seconds, he couldn't move.
"Hyung?"
Nothing.
He knocked again.
"Jaehyeok-hyung, please."
Silence.
Jihoon pressed his palm against the door.
"I didn't come here to cause trouble."
Still nothing.
"I just wanted to see you."
His voice sounded smaller than he intended.
There was no response.
Jihoon closed his eyes.
He had imagined this reunion countless times.
Sometimes Jaehyeok would open the door and smile.
Sometimes he'd be angry.
Sometimes he'd ask why Jihoon had taken so long.
Never had Jihoon imagined being shut out.
But perhaps he should have.
Jaehyeok had lost years because of him.
At least, that was how Jaehyeok must have seen it.
The world had told him that Jihoon had been manipulated.
That he had been kidnapped.
That he was a victim.
But Jaehyeok had been the one taken away.
And Jihoon had been left behind.
"Hyung..."
He swallowed.
"I'm sorry."
The words disappeared into the hallway.
Jihoon waited.
One minute.
Two.
Five.
Nothing.
Eventually, he lowered his hand.
He took a step backward.
Then another.
Before leaving, he looked at the door one last time.
"I'll come back."
There was no answer.
Jihoon turned and walked away.
He didn't notice the shadow beneath the door.
Didn't notice the pair of feet standing on the other side.
Didn't hear the quiet sound of someone leaning heavily against the door after he left.
Jaehyeok remained there.
His hand was still wrapped around the doorknob.
He could hear Jihoon's footsteps disappearing down the corridor.
He waited until they were completely gone.
Only then did he breathe.
"Why?"
The word escaped him.
Why now?
Why after all these years?
Jaehyeok slowly slid down until he was sitting against the door.
He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes.
Jihoon's face wouldn't leave his mind.
Older.
Different.
But still unmistakably Jihoon.
The boy who had once climbed into his car without hesitation.
The boy who had slept against his shoulder during long drives.
The boy who had stood in court and screamed that Jaehyeok hadn't kidnapped him.
Jaehyeok remembered that day too clearly.
He remembered Jihoon's parents holding him back.
He remembered Jihoon's voice breaking.
He remembered the moment the guards dragged Jaehyeok away.
Most of all, he remembered Jihoon looking at him.
Jaehyeok had spent years convincing himself that he'd imagined the desperation in those eyes.
It was easier that way.
If Jihoon had truly been forced into everything, then perhaps Jaehyeok could accept what happened.
Perhaps he could tell himself that losing Jihoon had been inevitable.
But if Jihoon had actually chosen him—
Then what had those years meant?
Jaehyeok opened his eyes.
His apartment was silent.
Cheap.
Small.
Barely furnished.
He had built this life because it was safe.
Nobody knew him here.
Nobody cared about his past.
He didn't have friends who asked questions.
He didn't have family waiting for him.
He didn't have anyone who could suddenly appear at his door and drag him back into the life he'd spent years trying to escape.
Until today.
Jaehyeok put his glasses back on.
Then he looked at the door.
"Don't come back," he whispered.
But even as he said it, he knew he didn't mean it.
-
Jihoon walked several blocks before stopping.
His hands were shaking.
He pulled out his phone and stared at the address he'd saved.
He had found it after months of searching.
It hadn't been easy.
Jaehyeok had disappeared after his release.
No social media.
No public records that gave Jihoon anything useful.
Nothing.
Until one old document finally gave him a lead.
And now he'd found him.
Only to be rejected.
Jihoon laughed bitterly.
"What did you expect?"
He had spent years imagining that Jaehyeok would forgive him.
That perhaps all he needed was to explain.
But Jaehyeok didn't owe him forgiveness.
Not after everything.
Jihoon sat down at a bus stop.
He stared at the traffic passing by.
Then his phone buzzed.
A message from his mother.
Where are you?
Jihoon stared at it.
Another message appeared.
Your father wants you home tonight.
His thumb hovered over the screen.
He turned the phone off.
For the first time in years, Jihoon didn't feel like running away.
He felt like staying.
Even if Jaehyeok didn't want him there.
Even if it hurt.
Because this time, nobody was going to speak for him.
Not his parents.
Not the police.
Not a courtroom.
And not Jaehyeok.
If Jaehyeok wanted him gone, Jihoon would let him say it himself.
But he wouldn't disappear without trying.
Not again.
-
That night, Jaehyeok couldn't sleep.
He stood by the window, looking down at the street.
His glasses rested on the table.
His phone lay beside them.
There was one number he hadn't deleted.
A number he'd never called.
Jihoon's old number.
Jaehyeok had kept it for years without knowing why.
He picked up the phone.
His thumb hovered over the contact.
Then he stopped.
A soft knock came from the door.
Jaehyeok froze.
His heart began pounding.
He slowly approached it.
Another knock.
Three quiet taps.
He looked through the peephole.
Nobody.
His expression tightened.
Then he looked down.
A small envelope had been slipped beneath the door.
Jaehyeok crouched and picked it up.
There was no name on it.
Only three words written across the front.
I'm not lying.
Jaehyeok's fingers went cold.
He knew exactly who had written it.
-
Jihoon went to meet his parents the following afternoon.
He almost turned around twice on the way there.
The house looked exactly the same.
The same polished front door.
The same carefully maintained garden.
The same expensive car parked beneath the awning.
Everything looked untouched.
As if nothing had ever happened.
As if a boy hadn't once run away from this house because he was terrified.
As if a man hadn't lost years of his life because of what happened afterward.
Jihoon stood outside for a long moment before ringing the doorbell.
His mother opened it.
Her expression immediately changed when she saw him.
"Jihoon."
"Mom."
"What are you doing here?"
"I need to talk to you and Dad."
She hesitated.
Then she stepped aside.
"Come in."
His father was waiting in the living room.
He didn't stand.
Instead, he looked over the newspaper in his hands.
"You've been ignoring our calls."
"I know."
"Where have you been?"
"Looking for someone."
His father's expression hardened.
"Who?"
Jihoon looked directly at him.
"Park Jaehyeok."
The newspaper lowered.
Silence filled the room.
His mother was the first to speak.
"Jihoon."
"I found him."
His father's jaw tightened.
"You went looking for that man?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because I wanted to see him."
"You need to stop this."
Jihoon laughed quietly.
There it was.
The same tone.
The same dismissal.
The same certainty that everyone else knew what was best for him.
"You still don't understand."
"Understand what?"
"That I remember."
His mother frowned.
"Jihoon—"
"I remember everything."
His voice shook.
But he didn't stop.
"I remember running away. I remember meeting him. I remember getting into his car. I remember every motel, every conversation, every night."
His father stood.
"Enough."
"No."
Jihoon's eyes burned.
"Not this time."
His father stared at him.
"You were a child."
"I was old enough to know that he didn't kidnap me."
"You were manipulated."
"I wasn't."
"You don't know what you're saying."
"I know exactly what I'm saying."
His mother's voice softened.
"We were protecting you."
Jihoon stared at her.
"Protecting me?"
"Yes."
"You didn't protect me."
His mother flinched.
Jihoon's hands curled into fists.
"You didn't even listen to me."
"We were frightened."
"You were embarrassed."
His father's expression darkened.
"Watch your words."
"Why?" Jihoon asked. "Because they're true?"
Nobody answered.
Jihoon took a shaky breath.
"Jaehyeok-hyung didn't kidnap me."
His father slammed his hand against the table.
"That man destroyed this family!"
"No."
Jihoon's voice was quiet.
"You did."
The room went completely still.
His mother looked at him as though she'd never seen him before.
Jihoon continued.
"Do you want to know the truth?"
His voice cracked.
"You're the reason why these scars exist. Why I ran away in the first place."
His mother went pale.
"Jihoon..."
"And just to save your ego, to save your reputation, you blamed a man who had saved me from a much worse fate than if a kidnapper or someone worse had found me."
His father stared at him.
"You have no idea what you're talking about."
"I know enough."
Jihoon pulled at the sleeve covering his wrist.
For a moment, he looked down.
The scars were old.
Faded.
But they were still there.
He had spent years hiding them.
Not anymore.
"You told everyone I was confused."
His voice became quieter.
"You told everyone I couldn't possibly know what I wanted."
He looked at his mother.
"You told them I was a victim."
Then his father.
"And you let them put him behind bars."
His mother began crying.
"We thought we were doing the right thing."
"No."
Jihoon shook his head.
"You thought you were protecting yourselves."
His father stepped forward.
"If you insist on continuing this nonsense, then perhaps you should leave this family."
Jihoon blinked.
His father looked away.
"We won't support you if you insist on associating with that man."
His mother whispered his name.
"Your father doesn't mean—"
"I understand."
Jihoon nodded.
He suddenly felt strangely calm.
"If you want to cut me off, then fine."
His father looked back at him.
"Jihoon."
"Do it."
His eyes were wet, but his voice didn't waver.
"I don't care."
He took a breath.
"I have lived this long with the guilt of driving him behind bars."
His voice broke.
"And I would rather die than watch him suffer because of you again."
His mother covered her mouth.
Jihoon looked at both of them.
"I lost him once because I couldn't make you listen."
He wiped his eyes.
"I'm not losing him again because you're ashamed of what you did."
Then he turned around.
"Jihoon!"
He stopped at the door.
His father's voice came from behind him.
"If you walk out now, don't expect to come back."
Jihoon closed his eyes.
For years, those words would have terrified him.
Today, they didn't.
He opened the door.
"Okay."
And walked out.
-
The moment he stepped outside, Jihoon finally let himself breathe.
His chest hurt.
His hands were trembling.
But he was free.
For the first time, he understood something.
Running away and leaving weren't the same thing.
Years ago, he'd run because he had been afraid.
Today, he was leaving because he'd chosen to.
He pulled his phone form his pocket.
He expected another message from his mother.
Instead, there was nothing.
Jihoon looked at the screen for several seconds before putting it away.
Then he thought about Jaehyeok.
The apartment.
The locked door.
The envelope.
His heart tightened.
He had promised himself he wouldn't disappear.
So he turned around.
And started walking back toward Jaehyeok.
-
Across the city, Jaehyeok sat at his small kitchen table.
The envelope was still in front of him.
I'm not lying.
He had read those words so many times that the ink seemed burned into his mind.
His phone suddenly vibrated.
An unknown number.
Jaehyeok stared at it.
He didn't answer.
It stopped.
A few seconds later, a message appeared.
I know you don't believe me.
Jaehyeok's fingers tightened around the phone.
Another message.
But I never said you kidnapped me.
His breathing stopped.
Then came the final message.
I never lied about choosing you.
Jaehyeok stared at the screen.
For years, he'd tried to convince himself that Jihoon had been manipulated.
That the boy he'd loved had never truly chosen him.
Because believing that was the only way he could survive what happened.
But now—
His hands began to shake.
A knock sounded at the door.
Jaehyeok looked up.
Three familiar taps.
He slowly stood.
Walked toward the door.
And this time, when he looked through the peephole, Jihoon was standing there.
Jaehyeok's hand hovered over the lock.
He could walk away.
He could pretend he wasn't home.
He could keep the door closed.
Instead, after years of keeping Jihoon outside his life—
He unlocked it.
-
"Just go, Jihoon."
Jaehyeok stood by the open door, his hand still wrapped around the doorknob.
His glasses sat slightly crooked on his face.
He looked exhausted.
"Your parents-"
Jihoon didn't let him finish.
He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around him.
Jaehyeok went completely still.
For one brief second, Jihoon wondered if he had made a mistake.
Then he tightened his arms.
He held Jaehyeok as if the man would disappear right there in front of him.
Maybe he would.
Maybe if Jihoon let go, Jaehyeok would retreat behind that door again and disappear from his life for another ten years.
"Jihoon..."
"Don't."
His voice was muffled against Jaehyeok's shoulder.
"Just let me."
Jaehyeok's arms fell and remained at his sides.
Jihoon had grown taller.
That was the first thing Jaehyeok noticed.
The boy he'd once known had been shorter than him, always leaning against his shoulder during long drives.
Now Jihoon's arms nearly engulfed him.
He had grown up.
Without Jaehyeok.
The realization hurt more than it should have.
"You shouldn't be here," Jaehyeok whispered.
"I know."
"Then why?"
"Because I wanted to see you."
"You already did."
"I wanted to stay."
Jaehyeok closed his eyes.
"Jihoon..."
Jihoon finally pulled away.
He looked at him.
Then, almost instinctively, his eyes drifted past Jaehyeok and into the apartment.
It was small.
Much smaller than anywhere Jihoon remembered living with him.
There was a tiny kitchen.
A worn-out couch.
A table with only one chair.
A mattress visible through the half-open bedroom door.
There were almost no decorations.
No photographs.
Nothing that suggested anyone lived there beyond the necessities.
Jihoon's chest tightened.
"Hyung..."
Jaehyeok followed his gaze.
"It's nothing."
"It's your home."
"Not really."
Jihoon looked at him.
"What do you mean?"
Jaehyeok stepped aside.
"Just leave, Jihoon."
Jihoon frowned.
"Hyung—"
"Just leave."
His voice cracked.
Jihoon's expression changed.
Jaehyeok looked away.
"It's not worth destroying your life over me."
"You don't get to decide that."
"I'm trying to protect you."
"You've already been protecting me."
Jaehyeok shook his head.
"No. I was the reason everything happened."
"You weren't."
"They went after me because of you."
"They went after you because they didn't want to admit they were wrong."
Jaehyeok flinched.
Jihoon stepped closer.
"You think I came here because I don't understand what I'm doing?"
"I think you don't understand what this will cost you."
"I do."
"Your family."
"I know."
"Your future."
"I know."
"Your reputation."
"I don't care."
Jaehyeok stared at him.
"How can you say that?"
"Because none of those things matter if I'm spending the rest of my life pretending you were someone you weren't."
Jaehyeok swallowed.
"Jihoon..."
"I'm not leaving."
Jaehyeok's eyes trembled.
"Why?"
Jihoon looked at him.
"Because I left once."
His voice softened.
"And I regretted it every day."
Jaehyeok couldn't answer.
Jihoon stepped closer.
Close enough that Jaehyeok could feel his breath.
"Hyung."
"Don't."
"Why?"
"Because you're going to regret this."
"I already regret leaving you."
Jaehyeok's eyes widened.
And before he could say anything else, Jihoon leaned forward.
A pair of lips met his.
It was brief.
Soft.
Nothing like the desperate memories Jaehyeok had spent years trying to bury.
Jaehyeok froze.
Jihoon pulled back.
For several seconds, neither of them spoke.
Jaehyeok's fingers trembled around the doorknob.
"Jihoon..."
"I meant it."
Jaehyeok stared at him.
"I know."
"No, you don't."
Jaehyeok shook his head.
"You don't know what you're doing."
"I do."
"You think you can fix everything."
"I'm not trying to fix you."
"Then what are you trying to do?"
Jihoon hesitated.
His eyes softened.
"Stay."
Jaehyeok looked away.
He wanted to believe him.
God, he wanted to.
But wanting something didn't make it safe.
He had spent years learning that lesson.
"You're destroying your own future, Jihoon."
His voice was barely above a whisper.
"You're choosing someone who had been behind bars."
Jihoon stared at him.
The words hurt more than the slammed door ever had.
Because Jaehyeok wasn't telling him to leave because he hated him.
He was telling him to leave because he believed Jihoon deserved someone better.
And somehow, that hurt even more.
-
Jihoon knew what he was doing was stupid.
He knew it.
Every rational part of him was screaming that this was too much, too fast.
But desperation had never cared much for rationality.
For years, he hadn't seen Park Jaehyeok.
Years of wondering.
Years of guilt.
Years of waking up and remembering that the last time he'd seen the man he loved, Jaehyeok had been taken away while Jihoon stood helplessly behind him.
And now Jaehyeok was standing right in front of him.
Still trying to push him away.
Still convinced that Jihoon would be better off without him.
Jihoon couldn't bear it.
So he kissed him again.
Not carefully this time.
He crashed his lips against Jaehyeok's, desperate enough that Jaehyeok stumbled backward.
Jaehyeok made a startled sound.
Then his hand caught Jihoon's shoulder.
For one terrifying second, Jihoon thought he'd been pushed away.
Instead, Jaehyeok kissed him back.
Jihoon's breath caught.
The world seemed to disappear.
There was only Jaehyeok.
The warmth of him.
The familiar shape of his face beneath Jihoon's hands.
The years between them suddenly felt impossibly fragile, as though one wrong movement could shatter everything.
Jihoon pulled back just enough to breathe.
Jaehyeok's glasses had slipped slightly down his nose.
His eyes were wide.
"Jihoon..."
"Don't tell me to leave."
Jaehyeok swallowed.
"You don't understand."
"Then explain it."
"I can't."
"Why?"
"Because every answer ends with you getting hurt."
Jihoon shook his head.
"I'm already hurt."
Jaehyeok went silent.
Jihoon reached up and gently adjusted his glasses.
"I'm not the person years ago."
"I know."
"I can make my own choices now."
"I know."
"Then stop making them for me."
Jaehyeok's expression crumbled.
Jihoon leaned forward again.
This kiss was slower.
Less desperate.
More certain.
Jaehyeok's fingers curled into the fabric of Jihoon's shirt.
And when Jihoon gently backed him against the wall, Jaehyeok didn't resist.
For once, neither of them ran.
Neither of them talked about the trial.
Neither of them talked about Jihoon's parents.
Neither of them talked about prison.
They simply stayed there, holding on to each other as though letting go would send them both back into the years they'd lost.
Eventually, Jaehyeok rested his forehead against Jihoon's.
"This is a mistake."
"Maybe."
"You'll regret it."
"Maybe."
"You really don't know how stubborn you are."
Jihoon smiled faintly.
"I learned from you."
Jaehyeok let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh.
Then his expression softened.
"You really came back."
"I told you I would."
"I thought you'd change your mind."
"I almost did."
Jaehyeok's eyes fell.
"But you didn't."
"No."
Jihoon took his hand.
"I didn't."
For a long moment, Jaehyeok simply stared at their joined hands.
Then he squeezed Jihoon's fingers.
It was a tiny gesture.
Barely anything.
But to Jihoon, it meant everything.
Jaehyeok finally stepped away from the wall.
"Come inside."
Jihoon blinked.
"What?"
Jaehyeok looked embarrassed.
"You've been standing in my doorway for ten minutes."
A smile finally appeared on Jihoon's face.
"You're inviting me in?"
"Don't make me regret it."
Jihoon stepped inside.
Jaehyeok closed the door behind him.
The click of the lock sounded different this time.
Not like a rejection.
Not like a barrier.
Like a choice.
Jaehyeok looked at him.
Jihoon looked back.
Neither of them said anything.
Jaehyeok reached for his hand again.
And together, they disappeared into the small apartment, leaving the past on the other side of the door.