I took a shower and lay down.
But night is always crueler after something good.
You throw yourself into bed thinking you'll rest, but your whole body's screaming.
Not from fever.
Just... the memories.
I could still taste Kang's kiss burning on my lips.
But there was another taste stuck in my throat, far more bitter.
Kemun.
Funny. Or tragic. How that name still makes my skin crawl.
He was my past.
The kind of man you love with your body… and later hate with your soul.
The kind that says "you're mine" like he just signed a damn ownership contract.
I was young. Met Kemun when I was 25.
That bastard was already 38.
And I was his. For two years.
Until it bled.
I remember the first time he hit me.
It wasn't a punch. No. Kemun was subtler than that.
It was during a meeting. My presentation. My idea. My research. And he cut me off with a joke.
Called me "my pet intern" in front of five investors.
They laughed.
I laughed too.
Then he kissed me. In front of everyone. Like it was bold. Sexy. But I knew, it was all about control.
And I swallowed it.
Because I still thought love meant swallowing what hurts, as long as it came with a touch at the end of the night.
But with him… The touch always came with a cost.
No movie, no dinner, no talk without a price.
Feeling him inside me always came with the sense of being erased.
The first time I tried setting a boundary, he laughed.
"You're being paranoid, Johan. It's not a good look." He said it so often I started to believe him.
But one day… I just couldn't anymore.
"You're too dramatic. I'm just working. And you want attention like a spoiled brat."
That was the last thing he said before trying to touch me again, claiming he was "giving me what I wanted."
I felt in pieces.
I wanted respect.
I wanted to not be exposed against my will.
I said no.
For the first time, I said no, and I left.
I survived.
Since then, I stopped putting myself at the center.
I stopped trusting.
But today...
Today, I stood there. And I spoke.
And no one laughed.
No one mocked.
Because of him... Kang.
He pushed me. Put me in the spotlight.
And for some reason... I wanted to stay there. Because he was there too.
And then, Kang asked if he could kiss me.
I let him, and he kissed me.
And when he kissed me... I felt something I hadn't in a long time.
The desire to stay.
Not to flee. Not to run.
To stay.
It was a relief. But for a second... it was terrifying.
Because... what if he's just another one?
But the touch of his hand on my face... The way he looked at me...
It felt like he was saying what words still couldn't: "You're safe with me."
The kiss wasn't impulse. Wasn't neediness. It was a consequence.
Of what he saw in me. Of what he wanted with me. Of what we'd built without realizing.
I turned in bed, biting my lips. Feeling that ridiculous urge to smile.
Kang flipped everything upside down.
He was that man's son. But he treated me like I mattered. Like hearing me was part of the conversation, not just a pause.
Instead of touching me... he stepped away.
Instead of leaving... he stayed.
And when I let him, he kissed me.
And I...
I'm happy.
Couldn't sleep after all that.
Got up before the sun. Made coffee. Put on clean clothes.Revised a report that didn't even need revising. And got to work earlier than any sane human being.
Walked into my office.
Turned on the computer.
But Kang wasn't coming in today.
(...)
I touched Johan's lips. For a moment, they were mine.
I kissed him.
I shouldn't have. Not like that. Not then.
But he looked at me that way. Without flinching, like, just for a second, he saw me again.
Not Kemun's son. Not a calculated risk.
Just a man. A regular guy. The idiot still dreaming of seeing those eyes light up again.
His taste still lingered on my lips. And his laughter... was still stuck in my chest.
I pressed a hand to my forehead, trying to clear my thoughts.
I knew he didn't trust me yet. He tests me constantly, every look, every word.
But now... now there's a crack. A tiny breach in the wall he built to survive. And I'm ready to squeeze through it with everything I've got.
It's been seven years.
Seven years biting my tongue every time his name came up. Seven years pretending that stupid line...
"You did well."
...didn't echo in my head every time I got something right.
I swore I'd only come back when I was someone. Someone for myself. On my own.
Because if he looked at me again...
I wanted it to be with pride.
And maybe no one gets that.
But my whole life was controlled.
From birth, everything was planned: school, career, how I carried myself.
The image I had to uphold. I had to be perfect. Better than him.
And I tried. I fucking tried. Until I broke.
The accident wrecked me. Destroyed my body, my mind, and everything I thought was solid.
And in the middle of the pain, when everything was just noise, I realized something that changed everything: the only person I really wanted to make proud... was him.
Not my father. Not the board. Not the mirror.
It was Johan.
I was 18. Interning in production, even though I didn't need to. I wanted to learn. Prove myself.
And on some random day, Johan walked in.
He was brilliant. Focused. Serious, but with that gaze that took in everything and still felt light. And yeah, he was gorgeous too. I remember him walking past me with a stack of papers, stopping out of nowhere to look at my report. I froze.
— You wrote this report?
I almost said no. But he started reading, line by line. I waited for the judgment. Thought he'd call me another spoiled rich kid playing adult. But no. He took a deep breath and said:
— This is... really well done. — then looked right at me. — You've got sharp eyes for logistics. That's rare. You did well.
In that moment, I was seen.
And that moment never left me. Even years later.
Even trying to forget.
And last night, when I kissed him, it wasn't just a kiss. It was everything. More than he admits. More than I deserve. But it was real.
I just want to keep being seen like that. As a guy.
A guy who loves him.
Even if I never say it out loud.
Even if he never loves me back.
Because if Johan's okay, even if it's not with me, that's already enough.
That night, I didn't sleep.
Rolled in bed like an idiot with a smile stuck on my face and a tight chest.
Went to work way too early just to keep my mind busy. Caught myself holding my phone like seven times, dying to send him something. A joke. A "you good?" Even an emoji.
But I didn't send it.
I didn't know how he'd react.
Maybe he'd pretend nothing happened. Maybe I would too...
Just for a couple of minutes.