Divorce Contract C120

Chapter 120

Seo Dohyeon, feeling the heat rise once more, fumbled through his pocket. He pushed himself upright, putting distance between himself and Go Igyeol. Leaning slantwise against the window frame, he cracked it open a hand’s width and inhaled deeply of the frigid night air.

“I believe we need to be together.”

“…And if I don’t want that?”

“Then we’ll have to find another way. Right now… my head isn’t working properly.”

Hoo—his sigh slipped out, making Igyeol’s shoulders shrink. Through the narrow gap, the cold air carried Dohyeon’s pheromones into the room. He winced, popped open the orange pill bottle, and without water, ground down a cascade of pills between his teeth.

“Don’t hurt yourself anymore, Igyeol.”

“……”

“If it must be done, do it to me. I can’t bear you being in pain. Not anymore.”

His voice dragged slow, heavy, like his brain was melting into sludge. From the moment he’d stepped inside, the pheromones Igyeol had left lingering in the air had been coursing through his veins, aggravating his state. He should have taken the suppressants with sedatives, but he hadn’t brought them. And even if he had, after seeing Igyeol’s condition, he could never have surrendered himself to drugged sleep.

His vision reddened. It almost seemed as if he could see Igyeol’s pheromones themselves—fluttering violet petals, drifting weightless in the air, close enough to catch with an outstretched hand. Shamefully, Dohyeon wanted to beg Igyeol to release more, to let him breathe them in.

A broken laugh escaped as the rut gnawed deeper into his sanity. Clutching at his temples, he spoke with heavy slowness, stripping himself bare with truths he would never have uttered otherwise.

“I heard you’ve been unwell. That’s why I think you need me more than ever. You feel it too, don’t you? I’m not saying we shouldn’t separate—I just want to stay with you until you’re all right again.”

“……”

“…Every morning, waking without you, knowing I have to live another day without you—it’s hell. But the more I think about it, the more I realize: my hell… is still better than yours.”

His lips, flushed red, formed curses he bit back. Raking his hair with agitation, he turned away. If he stayed, he might do something he could never undo.

Igyeol did not stop him. The pheromones spilling from Dohyeon’s body were suffocatingly strong. Stumbling, he left through the door. Outside, he expelled a breath he had been holding far too long, dizzy as if the oxygen itself had thinned. Again he clawed at his pocket, pulling free the bottle he had shoved inside. He knew he’d already exceeded the safe dosage, but the suppressant was his only anchor. He kept swallowing.

His vision wavered. Sounds dulled, blurred. Yoon Jaeseon came running, his form tripling, multiplying in his sight. Even Dohyeon’s own hands weren’t ten fingers anymore—blinking did nothing to steady them. Sweat dampened his spine.

“Executive Director!”

Jaeseon’s voice echoed and echoed, painfully loud. Too loud. Be quiet. He pressed a finger to his lips—what if Igyeol heard?

“Seo Dohyeon-ssi?”

Behind him, the door creaked open. See? He told them to be quiet. His sight flickered, like a light switching on and off, then went black.

The hiss of a humidifier filled the hospital room. Go Igyeol sat slumped in the attendant’s chair, staring fixedly at Seo Dohyeon’s pallid, unconscious face. The doctors had said he’d collapsed from the side effects of overdosing on rut suppressants in such a short span.

“Haa…”

The physician had warned against further suppressant injections, not in this condition. Yoon Jaeseon’s face had been stricken. As for pheromone therapy by a partner—neither Igyeol nor Jaeseon could answer. They had both evaded the suggestion with vague words. The doctor told them to wait until the patient regained consciousness and decide together. For now, Igyeol waited inside, Jaeseon outside.

He tucked Dohyeon’s exposed hand back beneath the blanket, then fell into thought. He remembered Dohyeon’s words: even separation needed preparation. At the memory, something sharp pricked inside his chest.

In the end, it was the same. Just as Dohyeon had said, time apart only grew more painful, more unbearable. He had told himself he was fine, but he wasn’t fine at all. He could not envision an end with Dohyeon. When the divorce was finalized, would he still fail to let go? Would he remain chained as a burden, one Dohyeon would carry only out of guilt?

His head drooped, finally resting against the sheets. He blinked slowly, lost between fear and comfort. The hospital bed was unyielding, yet strangely soothing. And the pheromones drifting faint in the closed space—the scent of Dohyeon—wrapped him in peace. His eyelids sank shut. For the first time in Dohyeon’s presence, he slept in tranquility.

The soft, even rhythm of his breathing filled the air. Slowly, Dohyeon’s lashes fluttered open. He turned at once toward the sound, realizing it wasn’t his own. There, asleep, face pressed to the bed, was Igyeol.

“Ah.”

The last he remembered was Jaeseon’s face. But the last voice, ringing until the end, had been Igyeol’s. Waking now, his body felt lighter, though his mind remained sluggish.

He reached out, pulling free the hand hidden beneath the blanket, and brushed a spill of Igyeol’s hair. Silken strands slid through his fingers. He hadn’t expected this—to wake and see him right there.

Feather-light, his hand traced the curve of Igyeol’s head. He stared endlessly at the sleeping face: the fine brows, the thick lashes, the proud slope of nose, the lips pressed open just slightly against the sheet, showing a flash of white teeth. Each detail drew forth a smile from him without his realizing it.

Igyeol’s lashes trembled. Quickly, Dohyeon withdrew his hand, laying it against his chest. Right on cue, Igyeol stirred awake. Still drowsy, his small hand patted the space where Dohyeon’s touch had been moments before.

Then suddenly, his eyes flew open. He sat bolt upright, cheek flushed red from lying too long against the bed.

“…Wh-when—ah—wait. I need to tell Secretary Yoon you’ve woken—”

But when he moved to go, Dohyeon caught his wrist, holding him back. He wanted just a little longer. He wanted to ask: why did you come after me, why didn’t you let me be, did you come because you were worried? Words swirled in his mouth but never formed.

“Stay a little longer. Just a little longer.”

Instead, he spoke the truth he most wanted.

“It’s all right.”

“…The doctors said it was from taking too many suppressants in too short a time.”

Igyeol looked down at the hand clutching his wrist, murmuring. He explained why Dohyeon lay there, told him there would be no more suppressants today—not by injection, not by pill. Dohyeon didn’t seem surprised.

“I see.”

“…They said my pheromones might help.”

His voice faltered, ending with a hint of tears. Dohyeon straightened, brushed lightly at Igyeol’s still-dry lashes, and answered again.

“It’s all right.”

“I… if you wanted, Seo Dohyeon-ssi…”

“……”

“…I would release them for you.”

“Don’t.”