Swallow Hunting

The walking path was quiet at that hour. It felt like there was no one there but Haejun. If he ran into Yeongchun by chance, he could at least take some small comfort in that, but maybe today just wasn’t his day—there wasn’t even a single dog passing by.

Around the time he passed the second streetlight, he sensed something behind him. Haejun was so focused on not falling that he only noticed the man after he had already slipped up beside him.

“I figured you’d be here.”

The voice came out of nowhere. Haejun let out a startled gasp and clutched his chest. He nearly tripped. Lee Kangjoo, who had appeared without warning, grabbed his arm.

“Sir? I mean—why are you here?”

Haejun asked, eyes wide. He had only expected him to be at home or at the office, not to show up on his usual walking route out of the blue. His heart pounded at the unexpected encounter—partly from excitement, but at the same time, a faint unease crept in. He wasn’t ready to face Lee Kangjoo yet.

“Your phone?”

Kangjoo didn’t look too pleased either. Under that cold, almost scolding gaze, Haejun quickly pulled his phone out of his pocket to show him.

“I forgot to charge it... it died. Did you call me?”

“You said you were going to a café.”

He had sent that message before leaving the house. If he hadn’t run into Choi Manseok, he would’ve been sitting there quietly like he said.

“Sorry. I ended up coming out suddenly too.”

When Haejun lowered his head, Kangjoo’s mood softened slightly. Still, the irritation didn’t seem completely gone—he clicked his tongue and ran a hand through his hair.

“What were you going to do if you fell again like last time?”

“It’s clear today, so I thought it’d be okay. I didn’t fall once on the way here from the café.”

“Don’t you remember what the doctor said? Be careful until the cast comes off. Cha Haejun, you sometimes go out of your way to do dangerous things.”

“Is taking a short walk really that dangerous?”

“Last time you were lucky and only hurt your palm. There’s no guarantee that’ll happen again.”

“......”

“Just stay home quietly. Don’t go out carelessly.”

Before, those words would’ve made him stupidly happy. Now, instead of excitement, something ached in his chest. He tells me to sort out my feelings, but then says not to leave a space filled with our memories and his scent. If that careless command isn’t cruel, what is?

“Get on.”

Lee Kangjoo bent his knees in front of him and turned his back.

For a moment, Haejun just stood there. It was the same situation as before—except there was no snow this time.

“If someone sees...”

“If you refuse again, I’ll carry you over my shoulder.”

Better to be carried on his back than treated like luggage. It wasn’t even a comparison. Still, Haejun hesitated. He knew the warmth of that body would tear down the walls he had barely managed to build. He could already see exactly how it would go. The moment he heard the offer, something was already caught in his throat.

If he hadn’t met Choi Manseok today—if he still °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° had any strength left—he would’ve tried to persuade Kangjoo and walked on his own somehow. But absurdly, he didn’t have the energy anymore. Just like Kangjoo said, it felt like he’d collapse face-first after a few more steps.

So Haejun carefully wrapped his arms around Kangjoo’s neck. A firm arm slid under him, and suddenly his view rose. At first his body tipped back and he tightened his grip in panic, but soon he relaxed into the steady support.

Kangjoo didn’t say much as he walked. Between the crutch, the cast, and Haejun’s own weight, it shouldn’t have been light—but his stride never faltered. It was like he was carrying an empty backpack.

“...Aren’t I heavy?”

“I told you before. You’re not.”

Despite his worries that someone might see, not a single person passed by. And even if they did, with the cast, anyone would just assume Kangjoo was helping an injured person.

The back pressed against his chest was warm. Haejun leaned in, leaving no space for the cold to slip through, and carefully rested his head against the back of Kangjoo’s neck. When he inhaled, a solid, woody scent filled his lungs.

They say distance from the body leads to distance of the heart—but when he was pressed this close, how could his desires fade? Lee Kangjoo was like saltwater that only made you thirstier the more you drank, and Haejun’s desire was like weeds that grew wilder the more you pulled them out.

If Kangjoo offered even a fragment of affection, Haejun would give him everything. If he asked for his heart, he would probably hand it over without hesitation.

“...I like you.”

So that was what had been lodged in his throat. Just for today, Haejun decided to be shameless. It wasn’t like Kangjoo didn’t already know. Saying it twice wouldn’t change anything.

“I really do.”

There was no trick to it. No scheme. He just wanted Kangjoo to know how he felt.

“Why?”

He hadn’t expected that question. Haejun lifted his head, then buried his face back into Kangjoo’s back.

“You saved me... and you’re kind to me.”

“I saved you?”

“On the bridge... and when I jumped into the sea, you pulled me out.”

A low chuckle. He wanted to hold onto that sound so it wouldn’t fade. Pretending his forehead itched, he rubbed his face lightly against Kangjoo’s collar.

“So you like anyone who’s kind to you?”

“No. I like you because it’s you.”

It wasn’t like there had never been customers who treated him kindly. But he had never liked any of them the way he liked Kangjoo. There was only one person in the world who could make him cry and laugh with just a few words.

That was why he didn’t want to lose him. He wanted to hold on, no matter what. Even if it meant tearing himself down just to stay by his side.

“...Can’t I just like you?”

He tightened his arms around Kangjoo. His voice trembled miserably, thick with unshed tears.

“I won’t show it. I won’t ever ask you to like me back. You don’t have to like me. Just... just...”

“......”

“Please don’t hate me...”

Kangjoo didn’t answer. He just kept walking in silence. Haejun didn’t have the courage to push any further, so he shut his mouth. Even as the back of his neck grew damp, Kangjoo remained quiet.

* * *

Yang Seokho remained standing with his hands behind his back even after finishing his report. He hadn’t been told to leave yet. Normally, he would’ve slipped out on his own or been dismissed, but today, even after going through all the documents, Lee Kangjoo just tapped the desk slowly, lost in thought.

Seokho glanced at his wristwatch when Kangjoo wasn’t looking. It was already time to get off work. It wasn’t like he had a honey pot waiting at home, and sure, if his boss told him to stay late, he’d stay without complaint—but unless there was something urgent, he preferred to go home as soon as possible. The fatigue from his recent business trip hadn’t worn off yet, and his shoulders still ached.

“...Is something bothering you, by any chance?”

Eventually, unable to wait any longer, Seokho spoke up. Kangjoo, who had been looking down, raised his eyes.

Seokho often didn’t understand why people only talked about Kangjoo’s good looks. Sure, the exterior was flawless—but personality-wise, he was cold-blooded to the core. Honestly, calling him a reptile wouldn’t even be a stretch.

“Not exactly bothering me.”

It absolutely was. Seokho had served him long enough to know that much. If he didn’t have that level of awareness, he would’ve been stabbed in the back a long time ago.

“Yes, go ahead. I’m listening.”

Seokho was more than willing to play counselor. He even had a bit of pride in the fact that if Kangjoo didn’t open up to him, then who would he open up to?

“How do you make someone give up?”

That... was not what he expected. Seokho raised his eyebrows over his glasses, mouth hanging open like an idiot.

“...Excuse me?”

“They say they like me. I can’t just leave it like that.”

“Who?”

“Someone.”

People confessing to Kangjoo wasn’t anything new. It had happened all the time. These days it was less frequent since he didn’t go around as much, but back then, all kinds of people used to latch onto him. It was like he had some kind of irresistible charm—men and women alike.

Usually, he either beat the men or ignored them, and with women, he would reject them politely or keep seeing them for a while if he felt like it. But as far as Seokho knew, not once had any of those relationships ever turned into something serious.

“A man or a woman?”

“A man.”

Seokho frowned. Some lunatic must’ve latched onto Kangjoo again, claiming they liked him.

Shouldn’t he just beat the guy and be done with it?

Then again, Kangjoo wasn’t the type to start with violence. He would reject them, ignore them, and only when they became unbearably persistent would he resort to force. Most people, no matter how stubborn, backed off after getting hit once.

“Well, just—”

Seokho started speaking casually, recalling past incidents, but suddenly stopped. A particular face flashed through his mind—someone who had reacted differently from all the others Kangjoo had dealt with before.