paedeul
paedeul
paedeul
53 posts
𝘪 𝘣𝘦𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 ��𝘰𝘨𝘴
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paedeul · 4 months ago
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fearless child, broken boy; tell me what it's like to burn
independent and selective assassin oc as loved by gumi
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paedeul · 4 months ago
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haven’t been here in who knows how long but i wanted to show off my new bg3 boy
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paedeul · 4 months ago
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this man right here took me all the way to 79 pity
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paedeul · 4 months ago
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kinda wild to think about the fact that i am indeed 25 today
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paedeul · 4 months ago
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saw someone on twit talking about how ian goes by youngwoo to those who know his past and the real him (aka taejoon). and he introduces himself as ian to those who only know the image he’s created for strangers and honestly that makes so much sense
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paedeul · 4 months ago
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Hours had passed, yet the garage looked no different—scattered tools, oil-streaked rags, and a half-assembled bike still propped up where he’d left it. Youngwoo barely noticed. He was too deep into it, hands working with a precision he hadn’t used in years.
It had been weeks since he got back into racing, starting small, sticking to community circuits with a borrowed bike. Nothing serious. But when he was gifted this beaten-down machine—something that just needed a little care—it became an obsession. His hands, once idle, found purpose in the grease and grit, in the familiar rhythm of fixing something from the ground up.
Now, after a long day and far too many trips to auto shops, he was covered in sweat and grime, stripped down to just a tank top and shorts. He ran the back of his hand over his forehead, exhaling as he leaned back against the bike. The sound of approaching footsteps pulled him from his focus.
" what are you working on ? " / @taephoon
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A slow smile tugged at his lips as he pushed himself to his feet, eyes locking onto Taejoon’s. Grabbing a rag, he wiped the sweat from his face before casually tossing it over his shoulder. Without hesitation, he closed the space between them, pressing a brief kiss to Taejoon’s lips—just a taste, enough to say I missed you.
“ You’re home. ” Another kiss followed, just as quick, before he pulled back, mindful of the dirt streaked across his skin. No need to get Taejoon caught up in the mess he’d made of himself today.
With an easy gesture, he nodded toward the bike. “ One of the guys I race with gave me this. ” His grip tightened around one of the handlebars, eyes flickering with something almost boyish—pride, maybe, or excitement. “ She ain’t much yet, but give me some time, and she’ll look brand new. ” The confidence in his voice was undeniable, impressive even, considering how long it had been since he last worked on a bike. But for now, he was done. The hours had slipped by, and the exhaustion was creeping in, but something else was tugging at his focus.
“ I was thinking takeout, ” he murmured, fingers sliding into Taejoon’s as he gave a gentle pull toward the house. “ Shower first, though. Come with me? ” The question was laced with something playful, something teasing, but the intent was clear. Food could wait—Taejoon, however, couldn’t.
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paedeul · 4 months ago
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Youngwoo almost wished Jo would’ve given up. Call after call, over ten missed notifications lighting up his screen. Even on the way here, Jo had kept ringing, his persistence relentless. And yet, every attempt had gone ignored. But Youngwoo knew he couldn’t avoid him forever. Eventually, he’d have to see him. He’d have to face him, to say the words that would shatter whatever hope Jo still held. Because whatever this was with Taejoon—whatever had been slowly, inevitably rekindling between them—needed a real chance. And this time, he wasn’t going to run from it.
Maybe if things had played out differently that night—if the right person had shown up instead of Jo—everything would have already been settled. Maybe they would’ve finally said what needed to be said. Would things have changed? Would they have figured it out then? Youngwoo thought so.
Now, as the call was finally answered, not by him but by Taejoon, Youngwoo let his head tip back against the side of the tub, watching him through half-lidded eyes. The water had long since turned cold, but his ankle still ached too much to move. He’d have to get out soon, but not yet. Not until he could manage on his own. He exhaled slowly, studying Taejoon—the phone pressed to his ear, the expression on his face. Youngwoo recognized that look, knew exactly what he thought about Jo, what this conversation meant.
He was going to have to be honest. He’d have to tell Taejoon about his previous intentions to move forward, to finally stop hesitating. He’d have to admit that, despite everything, despite 19 years of tangled history, his heart had always belonged here. And even if he had to break someone else’s heart in the process, he couldn’t ignore the truth any longer. Because how could he ever give his heart away when it had only ever belonged to Taejoon? And even if he could . . . why would he ever want to share it?
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Youngwoo was pulled back to reality by the gentle brush of Taejoon’s hand through his damp hair. Instinctively, he leaned into the touch, his gaze flicking up—soft, conflicted, laced with something dangerously close to an apology. An apology for the mess he’d created. But guilt didn’t settle in his chest the way it should have.
He didn’t care that he had lied to Jo. Didn’t care that Jo would be worried, left searching for answers that would never come. Because in the end, Jo would go home. He would be safe. And right now, that was all that mattered. When the call finally ended, Youngwoo exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “ No, there were no other witnesses. Just him. ” His voice was low, almost distant, as his gaze drifted away. “ I didn’t . . . I didn’t even know he was there. ”
There was more he wanted to say. More he should say. But the weight of it pressed down on him, burying the words beneath years of avoidance, of running, of refusing to acknowledge the things that had always been right in front of him. Maybe later. For now, there were simpler things to focus on—things he could control. Like getting out of the water before his body went completely numb.
With a quiet sigh, he finally lifted his eyes back to Taejoon, hand outstretched. “ Can you help me out? ” His voice was quieter now, something raw beneath the words. “ We can talk after I get some clothes on. ”
Youngwoo's unwavering stare and lack of rush to answer should be of some comfort to him. Yet, as the phone continues to ring out and the name continues to flash on his screen, Taejoon feels... anger. It had been unfathomable to him before, why the man pissed him off so much. That fateful night, when everything went to shit, he had been there to comfort Youngwoo in his stead. Always there, somehow involved. A nobody, with a pretty face and a good home, sticking his nose where it didn't belong.
He should have known they were something more.
You should know that he witnessed it though.
Taejoon frowns. It can only mean one thing, a conclusion he had come to the moment Youngwoo collapsed through his door with blood on his shoes and panic in his eyes. He answers the call on it's last ring, the phone held to his ear.
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“  Joseph Landi, we meet again, ” his sights remain set on Youngwoo as he speaks, the expected pause on the other end offering little amusement for him. Who is this? Where's Ian? Ian. “  You don't remember me? I suppose it was a while back now. Ian is safe with me. No need to fret. I have things under control. All you need to do is go home. Speak to no one else. ”
It's not at all surprising when he's questioned further. He can hear the tremble in Jo's voice as he speaks, the short breaths in between indicate that he's walking briskly. Taejoon steps closer to the bathtub, holding the very man Jo was in search of. He looks down at Youngwoo, then, his hand reaching out to brush over his hair. It's a possessive itch, and he knows it, one not entirely satiated. I'm yours, uttered like a promise to match his own. Jealousy has no place here.
“  Your concern is admirable, but he's sleeping. He was quite shaken when he arrived, ” and his thumb brushes down Youngwoo's temple, sweeping away a drop of water. He has a few calls to make, it would seem. “  Go home. I don't like to repeat myself. You'll hear from me soon, ” And Ian- Taejoon ends the call and pockets Youngwoo's phone. His silence thereafter doesn't linger any longer than necessary, but enough to afford him a moment's thought.
Taejoon sighs, “  he doesn't strike me as the type to keep his mouth shut. Were there any other witnesses? ”
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paedeul · 4 months ago
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i have a job interview today and i’m so beyond nervous for it
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paedeul · 4 months ago
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sometimes i sit down and think about the fact that ian has given his heart away and he’ll never love anyone the way he loves taejoon and then i just cry
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paedeul · 4 months ago
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They’d been here before. Years ago, in that dingy club bathroom, Youngwoo had watched Taejoon with another woman—hands on her waist, lips pressed against hers. He had hated it. Hated it more than he could ever admit. They didn’t belong to each other. Not then. Maybe not ever. But maybe, just maybe, they always had.
Back then, Youngwoo had been so sure. He knew what he wanted—what he wanted them to be. Confidence had never been an issue. But there had always been something in the way. The gang. Their reputations. The weight of what it would mean if the wrong people found out. But for so long, Youngwoo hadn’t cared.
Over time, though, things changed. He changed. They were older now, hardened by the years, by everything they had survived. The fire that once burned so recklessly had dimmed, tempered by reality. And yet, standing here now, his chest felt too tight, his breath too shallow. He was waiting for it—that rejection, the inevitable moment where Taejoon turned him down. Maybe if he shut it down first, if he killed it before it had the chance to hurt him, he could walk away unscathed. But feelings never made things that easy. He couldn't run from it anymore.
His pulse thundered in his ears, his heart slamming against his ribs as if trying to break free. It was only a matter of time before it did.
This was how it always was. Youngwoo pushed just far enough to keep Taejoon at arm’s length, to shield himself from everything before it could hurt him. It was second nature—this belief that he was nothing more than a fleeting indulgence, a momentary pleasure. That was all he was good for. That was all he could be.
And yet… he knew the way Taejoon looked at him when he thought he wasn’t paying attention. The way his touch was always careful, even when everything else was rough. How he never pulled away first when they slept next to each other. How he knew exactly how to handle Youngwoo, even after seeing every ugly, broken piece of him. He wanted to hear it. To hear love fall from his lips. He had waited for so long.
I’ve… I’ve loved you. Like a best friend, like family… more than that.
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Youngwoo forgot how to breathe. He hadn’t even realized he was crying until a tear slipped down his cheek, his lips parting in a shaky exhale. Oh god. No. It couldn’t be true. His mind rebelled, screaming at him that this was nothing, that Taejoon was just saying what he wanted to hear. But for what? Taejoon had never been the type to say things just to placate him. He was honest—always. And neither of them ever let their feelings spill over like this.
So maybe . . . maybe this was real. The silence stretched between them. Youngwoo just stood there, hands curled at his sides as he stared, as he listened. For what felt like an eternity, he said nothing. His heart pounded, his mind raced, but he couldn’t run from this. Not this time. He should’ve turned away. Should’ve thrown up that wall like he always did. But the words slipped out before he could stop them.
“ No, you . . . you can’t love me. ” It wasn’t a rejection. Not really. Just disbelief.
Because when had anyone ever said those words to him? When had anyone told him he meant something? Not his mother. Not anyone who was supposed to care. She had never told him she loved him, and he hated her for it. Hated her for making him this way. For making him doubt even this.
His body moved before his mind could catch up. A step forward. Then another. And slowly, cautiously, he took Taejoon’s hand in his own. His cheeks were wet, his vision blurred, but he didn’t wipe the tears away. There was no point in hiding them anymore. His voice barely made it past his lips.
“ Say it again. Please. ”
It was his fault, wasn't it? Their downfall. His own addiction, his obsession, to selfishly keep Youngwoo all the while, expecting that he would stay by way of his unrelenting guilty conscience. A neverending debt to be owed. It was fucked up, and Taejoon knew that... in the beginning. Somewhere along the line his desire for power and wealth had muddied that which he already had. He had been clinging to their foundation for years, only to watch it all crumble away by his own hands.
They could never be public. Secret trysts were all they were afforded back then. Hell, even now. Yet, people knew. They had to have known. It was easier for him to mask it on the outside, living under the illusion that it would calm the storm within; bury those feelings deep down and focus on the task at hand. The end goal. Power. Money. Honour. And then...
We're just going to eat away at each other again.
That persistent sickness climbs up his throat, a bile on the back of his tongue like a demon in wait. It's only then that he recognises it to be what he's spent nearly two decades burying. Guilt. Shame. Longing.
When Youngwoo whispers a familiar plea, Taejoon is startled into silence. His burgeoning confidence seconds ago slips in an instant, and he suddenly remembers this moment ten years ago. Drunk, in some dingy club bathroom. Say it. That same demon holding his tongue, the words choked back out of fear.
Coward.
He couldn't have known how fantastically he had failed in those few significant seconds. He knows better now. He has to.
“  I've— ... Shit, ” he breathes out slowly, his heart ready to burst out of his chest. He could confess everything right now, but then what? Would Youngwoo even want him anymore? He doesn't know how to love in the traditional sense, but nothing about them was traditional.
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“  I didn't grow up learning how to do this shit any more than you did, ” he starts, unintentionally irritated. Flustered. He wasn't going to deceive him with flowery words and promises, that's never been their language. But they have been long-since beyond passionate affairs and yearning glances. “  I've... I've loved you. Like a best friend, family... more than that, ” he rubs his thumb between his brows, taking the moment to break eye contact and look at the floor. It is more than that. “  I thought I could ignore it... forget about it, but I can't. Got a lot of regrets, but my biggest regret is not telling you sooner that... ”
Taejoon sucks in a sharp breath, forcing his gaze to return to Youngwoo, “  ...that I'm in love with you. I have been since we were kids. I never said anything because I guess I'm a fucking coward. I was afraid of what it all meant... Scared that that'd be the end of us. So, I fucked us up in other ways. I tied you to me because I couldn't let you go. ” He's absolutely terrified. How can he not be? The possibility of rejection lingered at the forefront of his mind as it has done since they stepped beyond friendship all those years ago. If this is to be their end, he'll lock up his heart until his death, and he'll know Jason was right. Dead bastard.
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paedeul · 4 months ago
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took me 5 hours last night but i got him finally
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paedeul · 4 months ago
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wuthering waves is about to make me crash out because i’m at 60 pity (guaranteed) for the hot pirate man and he just won’t come home
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paedeul · 4 months ago
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honestly wild how for weeks now my roomie and i had been planning to do a birthday get together with friends for me today and come to find out they’re all going to epcot instead
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paedeul · 5 months ago
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@taephoon cont from here !
This was not how Youngwoo had planned to spend his night. Being called in for something like this—a life lost at the hands of his own men—was nothing short of a disaster. There would be consequences, no doubt. If the boss didn’t handle it himself, Youngwoo would make sure the ones responsible paid for their recklessness. But the more he listened, the more the story unraveled. Nothing lined up. No one could give him a straight answer, just a mess of half-truths and contradictions. The trigger-happy idiot who caused the commotion had earned himself a swift slap from Youngwoo—a warning. He was lucky to have walked away with nothing worse. But luck wouldn’t save him if this spiraled further out of control.
This wasn’t something Youngwoo could simply sweep under the rug. If the victim had a record, a past that could justify an easy cover-up, he might’ve spun some self-defense story or buried it under another pile of lies. But this was different. The target was clean. And now, the weight of this mess fell on him. His boss was already seething, and it was Youngwoo’s job to fix it. Which meant settling things with the K35. And more importantly—with Taejoon.
The scent of Taejoon’s cologne lingered—sharp, familiar, and almost distracting. Youngwoo resisted the urge to roll his eyes, exhaling slowly instead. “ Yeah, let’s play nice and get this taken care of, ” he muttered, leaning forward as he flipped open a pack of cigarettes. One slid between his lips with practiced ease, the lighter following from his pocket a second later. The no-smoking rule was the least of his concerns as the flame flickered, then caught, the first drag filling his lungs.
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It was almost second nature now—pretending. Pretending that just nights ago, he and Taejoon weren’t tangled up in each other, that their bodies didn’t seek each other out in the quiet hours when no one was around to witness the truth. But here and now, that didn’t matter. Here, there was no warmth, no stolen touches. This was business. No room for anything else.
Once Taejoon finished flipping through the case files, Youngwoo let out a slow, measured sigh, tapping the ash of his cigarette into the empty glass on the table. “ I’m pissed. ” Understatement of the year.
Another drag, another plume of smoke curling in the air between them. “ Unfortunately, I can’t deny it. One of my men did shoot that fucker. ” There was no point in lying—especially not to Taejoon. Rival or not, Youngwoo had stopped keeping secrets from him a long time ago. With the room cleared, there was no one left to play pretend for.
“ Some of my boys are saying yours provoked ‘em, ” he continued, voice even, though the irritation simmered beneath the surface. “ Not sure how true that is. ”
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paedeul · 5 months ago
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They were two hours outside the city, far enough for the chaos to feel like a distant memory. The noise, the mess—the weight of everything they left behind—faded into something quieter, something almost peaceful. Not that Youngwoo would ever call that place home.
This weekend was about the race. That was the only reason he booked this cheap motel, dragging Taejoon along for the ride. If it were just another competition, he wouldn’t have asked him to come. But this one? This one mattered. Sponsors, a real payout, a chance to prove himself. His bike was in peak condition, his mind sharp, and with enough rest, he was sure he’d cross that finish line first. And Taejoon being here? Well, that was just insurance. His unofficial lucky charm.
It had been almost three weeks since that first night together—since they locked themselves away for four days, wrapped in each other like nothing else in the world mattered. It was new. Unfamiliar in ways Youngwoo wasn’t sure how to process. He’d had a relationship before, but this? This was something else entirely. It wasn’t just lust or companionship; it was something deeper, something that settled warm in his chest, lingering long after Taejoon was gone. Something he wanted to hold onto.
“ What if we left . . . ran away? ” @taephoon
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Youngwoo almost laughed, half-convinced he’d imagined the words. Steam billowed from the bathroom as he stepped out, clad only in boxers, towel in hand as he ran it through his damp hair. It was out of nowhere, sure, but the thought lingered. He didn’t answer right away, just let the silence stretch, thinking about how, if Taejoon really meant it, if he really wanted to go, Youngwoo would follow him anywhere. “ Where would you want to go? ”
He discarded the towel and sat on the edge of the bed, leaning back on his elbows, watching Taejoon. He didn’t give him the chance to answer before he shrugged, the gesture light, almost indifferent—almost. “ California, maybe. Live on the beach. ”
How possible was that, really? In this lifetime? Their work with Jason and the K35 was only just beginning. Youngwoo could feel it—things were ramping up, pulling them in deeper. And Taejoon . . . Taejoon seemed more invested in it than he was. Maybe that was what made the idea feel so absurd. But just for a moment, here and now, he wanted to imagine something else. Another version of themselves. Another life. Somewhere far, far away.
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paedeul · 5 months ago
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love the type of male character that is just a losing dog
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paedeul · 5 months ago
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This went against everything Youngwoo had told himself he wanted—a life far from here, away from K35, away from the violence and the ghosts that haunted him. He dreamed of escaping, of leaving it all behind, yet here he was, kissing Taejoon back without hesitation. One hand rested on the back of his neck, the other draped loosely over his shoulder, pulling him closer instead of pushing him away. If he left, truly left, he wouldn’t just be walking away from this life—he’d be walking away from the one person who had ever mattered. The one who had sacrificed for him, fought for him, who knew him better than anyone. Could he even survive without him?
Maybe that was why he’d never made real plans to go. Maybe deep down, he never wanted to leave at all. Or perhaps . . . he didn’t want to live that life alone. Maybe he just wanted Taejoon there with him.
You’re mine. The words sent a sharp gasp against Taejoon’s lips, but it wasn’t just the way they were spoken—it was what they meant. More than a claim, more than just two simple words. To Youngwoo, it was a confession. A truth spoken aloud. Maybe he was just caught up in the moment, but Youngwoo felt like his heart might tear from his chest if he didn’t say something back. “ I’m yours. ”
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Another kiss. His nails scraped down the back of Taejoon’s head, gripping tight, grounding himself in the sensation of him. “ Yours, ” he breathed again, as if saying it enough times might make it permanent.
Desperation took hold of them both. Fingers fumbled with buttons, grasped at fabric, pulling, tugging—Youngwoo would’ve dragged him straight into the bathtub if he had to. His ankle ached from the movement, but he didn’t care. Nothing mattered except this, except Taejoon’s hands on him beneath the water, setting his skin alight, making his breath stutter. Then—the phone rang.
He ignored it, barely even registering the sound over the rush of blood in his ears. “ Taejoon, please, I— ” Another touch, another sharp inhale, another moment stolen between them. And then— The phone rang again.
It was almost devastating to watch Taejoon pull away, to feel the absence of his warmth as he walked across the room. But when Taejoon bent down and picked up Youngwoo’s own phone from where it had been discarded on the ground, his heart dropped. How long could he keep avoiding this? Of course, it was Jo.
The realization hit like a punch to the gut, and with it came the weight of everything he’d failed to mention to Taejoon. The murder. The chase. Jo witnessing it all. He’d shoved it to the back of his mind, ignored the calls and texts, but it was inevitable now.
Friend.
The word almost made him scoff. How fucking heartbreaking it would be for Jo to know that’s all he’d ever be. But Youngwoo saw the look in Taejoon’s eyes and held his gaze, unwavering. He’d meant what he said moments ago. Jo was just . . . temporary. Someone to pass the time with. Sure, he cared about him and wanted him safe, but anything beyond that? No. Moving with him when he left for school? The idea had already begun to bore him after only a few weeks together. It was obvious where his heart belonged. And sooner or later, he’d have to break Jo’s. If he hadn’t already.
“ Just answer it. I don’t care. ” Youngwoo looked away for a moment, exhaling sharply, as if bracing himself. He needed to rip the bandaid off. “ You should know that he witnessed it though. ”
The words left his mouth, and suddenly his heart was racing again. The thought of prison loomed like a shadow at the back of his mind. That wasn’t an option—not again. He’d need protection. And that meant more debt. More chains binding him to this life. “ but I don’t want to talk to him right now, ” he muttered, jaw tight. Because facing Jo meant facing everything. And he wasn’t ready for that.
Taejoon's heavy-lidded stare meets Youngwoo's, and for a split-second, he doubts. He would be reeling him back into the life he wanted to escape from. He would be returning to hell, severing his chance at a new reality; An environment they never had the luxury of flourishing within. However, hearing his name on Youngwoo's tongue makes his sacrifices a distant thought, a speck so insignificant its as if they never happened in the first place. His nose pushes against his cheek, until his lips find Youngwoo's in a searing kiss that signifies everything he could never put into words. I'm sure. He would tear the world apart if Youngwoo wished it. Don't let me go. Never.
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“  You're mine, ” it could be a promise, couldn't it? Youngwoo knew his selfishness, that he would never relinquish what's his. “  Say it. ”
The bath water seeps through the front of his dress shirt, the touch of their lips, tongue, the way he tries to loosen the knot of his tie in a bid to undress, it's all desperate, rushed. His greed needs to be fed. Deft fingers forgo removing the tie altogether in favor of unbuttoning his shirt. One, two, three buttons, until—
There's a distant humming sound that only seems to grow louder the longer it goes ignored, cutting through the aroused fog gathering in his brain. Taejoon breaks their kiss to look at the empty doorway, an irritated huff. “  Ignore it— ” It could go to voicemail. The noise disappears as he returns his sights to Youngwoo under him, mouthing at his jawline, his hand underwater sliding down his front to wrap around him.
Then, the ringing starts up again, and Taejoon hisses under his breath. “  For fucks' sake, ” punctuated with him swiftly manoeuvring himself from Youngwoo and the bathtub, a dripping wet mess as he leaves the room to retrieve his phone. Only... it's not his phone. Confused, Taejoon eventually finds a phone face down on the rug in his living room. Youngwoo must have dropped it when he rushed in. The name that shows up as he turns the device to view the screen has his stare hardening, jaw tight.
Jo.
It could only be that punk kid who he had met all those months ago. He watches his name continue to flash across Youngwoo's phone until it goes to voicemail. He could turn the device off and return to Youngwoo, naked in the bath. Continue where they left off. He could toss it in the bin, out the window, pretend he lost it on the journey here. It's maddening, the spiral that runs him down in those few seconds. However, as Jo's name proceeds to light up Youngwoo's phone a third time, Taejoon's mind is made up.
He returns to the bathroom, holding Youngwoo's phone up with Jo's call still waiting to be answered. “  Your friend's been calling you, ” he watches Youngwoo, curious to know his response. 'Friend?' Or on the road to something more. The thought made Taejoon feel ill. His thumb hovers over the screen's slider.
“  He must be worried sick. Shall I do the honours? ”
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