NLFSD Chapter 88

Chapter 88

Jiwoon ran about the living room in a panic, stamping his feet, but there was nowhere to escape. If he stepped outside now, he would run straight into Seo Taecheon, who had just arrived at the apartment complex.

“What do I do, where can I hide?”

He was carrying more than just his own life now — throwing himself from the fifth‑floor balcony was out of the question. He was trapped, unable to go forward or back. So this is what it feels like to be a mouse cornered by a cat…

Where should I go…?

Then his frantic gaze landed on a door — the dressing room from which Madam Choi had fetched clothes the night before.

He dashed in, recalling her words: the built‑in wardrobes on the left were reserved for Taecheon’s clothing when he stayed there, though currently empty.

Yes. Here. No choice.

He yanked open the wardrobe. Just enough space for a person. He slipped inside, pulled the door shut — exactly as the front door beeped and clicked.

He’s here. He’s really here.

Jiwoon hugged himself tight, suppressing his shivers, forcing his breath silent. Without sight, relying only on sound was terrifying. Footsteps echoed closer, doors gliding open, then nearer still—until the closet door itself swung wide.

“…Jiwoon. So you were here.”

“T‑Taecheon…”

Heart pounding, Jiwoon froze. He had expected fury — after leaving only a cruel recording, vanishing from sight. Surely Taecheon must be seething.

“…I’m sorry.”

“You think I came to hear that?”

“…What?”

Instead of wrath, Taecheon’s face brimmed with worry, grief, and relief. His voice was raw, desperate.

“Don’t leave me. That’s what I came to beg for.”

“Taecheon…”

“If I’ve done something wrong, tell me. I’ll change.”

“No, it’s not that…”

His heart plummeted as Taecheon cupped his face, trembling.

“Whatever the reason, please. Don’t leave me.”

This man, thought so unshakably strong, revealed a fragility that filled Jiwoon’s eyes with tears.

What have I done? Acting alone, tormenting him, forcing this anguish into his face… it’s my fault, all of it.

“I’m sorry, Taecheon. I’m so, so sorry…”

He threw himself into the older man’s arms, sobbing.

“I was wrong. Running from home, leaving you… I’m sorry.”

“…Then will you come back with me?”

“Yes. I want to.”

Sniffling, he clung tighter. Taecheon ignored his rumpled clothes, tenderly wiping Jiwoon’s wet face with his sleeve.

“I’ll explain to Mother later. For now, come down with me.”

“Yes… okay.”

He had no luggage to pack; he simply slipped back into the clothes he had arrived in, pulled on his coat, and left with him.

“Get in, it’s cold.”

“Yes.”

He slid into the passenger seat. As the car pulled away, Jiwoon whispered, head bowed:

“I’m sorry. For running like that.”

“It’s alright.”

“…I feel so guilty, Taecheon.”

“No more apologies. I’m fine.”

He squeezed Jiwoon’s hand warmly. The solid heat nearly undid him again.

“Don’t cry.”

“…Okay…”

Twenty minutes later, the car rolled through their gate. Crossing the familiar path, entering the door, Jiwoon felt peace. The scent, the well‑kept warmth — home.

“Aah—”

“Jiwoon!”

He staggered.

“Are you okay?”

“Y‑yes. Just nerves.”

But his knees gave way, caught fast by Taecheon.

“Come, rest.”

On the sofa, Jiwoon caught sight of the Sookryeo‑Doongyi doll he had left — recording and all — lying on the floor. So he heard it, after all. Shame burned.

Taecheon brewed hot tea, sat beside him, holding his hand.

“Jiwoon.”

“Yes.”

“If I’ve lacked in anything, I’m sorry. Please tell me, and I’ll fix it.”

“No… you did nothing wrong.”

“Then why try to leave me?”

His eyes glimmered with desperation. Jiwoon’s chest clenched. He’s blaming himself… all because of my rashness.

“…The truth is… I was told I was terminal.”

“What—?!”

Shock carved Taecheon’s face. Jiwoon quickly rushed on:

“But it was wrong. Not true. A misdiagnosis.”

“…God. I nearly died of fright.”

“They tested me again. I’m healthy.”

“…So… you left me because of that?”

Jiwoon nodded.

“Yes. If we truly became family, if our love deepened beyond all — and then I died — you’d be devastated. I couldn’t bear to hand you that pain. So… I thought to vanish.”

“…Why didn’t you tell me? Even if ill, I would want you by my side.”

His throat thickened, nose stung.

“Really?”

“Of course. Even if you were truly dying, even if we had to face farewell, I would want to spend every moment with you until then.”

Tears brimmed again. He had believed distance would lessen pain, but this man’s thinking was the opposite: that togetherness made pain lighter.

“What I fear most is losing you. Growing apart.”

“Taecheon…”

“Swear to me. Whatever time remains, short or long — live it with me. All of it.”

Who could resist such words? Jiwoon, face wet with tears, nodded.