TDOTO 4.1 [Part 2]

After eating, Jae-an hesitated, unsure where to go, then cautiously sat on the sofa. Searching for something to cover himself, he grabbed a cushion and placed it over his lower abdomen. The ease of years spent treating this place like home had vanished; now, he moved awkwardly, constantly wary.
Jae-rim, as usual post-meal, brewed coffee. For Jae-an, instead of coffee, he prepared doraji tea, adding ice to ensure it wasn’t too hot to swallow.
Two cups sat side by side on the sofa table. As Jae-rim lifted his coffee mug, Jae-an reached for his tea.
If not for his bruised, naked body, it might have felt like the “before” Jae-an had longed for—eating together, sharing quiet updates over drinks.
“Hyung, anything you want to do?”
Jae-an’s swollen, bruised face turned slowly toward Jae-rim. His casual, everyday tone felt theatrical, like a performance of normalcy.
Rubbing the cup’s surface, Jae-an replied in a low voice,
“I want to wear clothes.”
He turned away immediately, eyes dropping to his tea. Jae-rim, watching his timid demeanor, paused in thought before speaking soothingly.
“We’ll buy clothes when you need them. You don’t need any now.”
“…Can’t you just let me wear something?”
Seizing the softening in Jae-rim’s voice, Jae-an mustered courage. Jae-rim’s eyes curved into crescents.
“You’re such an idiot.”
Jae-an’s nature always complicated things. Usually compliant, he had a stubborn streak that never broke, and though he spoke little, his head was filled with futile thoughts.
If his heart were as calm as his mind, it’d be perfect.
Emotionally fragile, Jae-an sank, raged, and was swept away easily, yet he suppressed it all, pretending to be rational. His heart bore that strain silently. If cracked open, his small heart would likely be tattered.
As expected, the “idiot” remark and rejection sparked defiance in Jae-an’s eyes.
If he’d take offense, why ask what he wanted? Probably some childish thought like that. Observing Jae-an’s struggle to hide his frustration, Jae-rim tilted his head, intrigued.
“There’s a reason you can’t wear clothes.”
“….”
“The fairy gets her wings back and flees, ungratefully.”
“….”
“You read me that frustrating story, remember?”
Jae-an, grim-faced, sipped his tea. The small amount of liquid warmed his swollen throat, causing pain. Narrowing his eyes, he hesitated before mentioning yesterday.
“…I ran into the cleaning lady yesterday afternoon.”
“I know.”
“…I don’t want that happening again. I really won’t run.”
Beating around the bush, he was pleading for clothes again, stubbornly gentle.
Jae-rim, gazing at him, nodded after a moment.
“Honestly, I didn’t like it either.”
His eyes chilled briefly, followed by a soft tongue-click.
“Better cover you up before you tempt anyone else.”
Uncrossing his long legs, he stood. Setting down his coffee, he walked off. Jae-an, still fidgeting with his cooling tea, watched the warmth stain his hands.
Jae-rim returned with a long-sleeve shirt and pants, tossing them over. Jae-an, seeing them on his lap, raised his brows.
“We’ll buy fitting clothes tomorrow. Heartless hyung didn’t leave me a single piece.”
Hastily setting down his tea, Jae-an grabbed the clothes without replying. Jae-rim watched him slip on the shirt, murmuring,
“I’m nice, right?”
“Huh…? Yeah.”
“Don’t take me for a fool and run.”
“…Got it.”
His reply was reluctant, but he was grateful. The thin clothes, without underwear, offered a thick shield of dignity. With just one layer, his hunched spine straightened slightly.
Rolling up the sleeves, Jae-an reached for another sip but froze with unease. His eyes narrowed, and fear-soaked pupils landed on Jae-rim.
“That… you didn’t do anything to the lady, right?”
Jae-rim’s earlier “didn’t like it” snagged like a stone.
Hoping he was wrong, Jae-an waited, but Jae-rim’s reply was slow. Frowning, he pressed,
“Well?”
“I clearly told her not to enter that room. She broke the promise.”
The last of Jae-an’s pale face’s color drained. His voice trembled.
“You tying me up was the problem. Why blame her—”
“Your fault.”
“….”
“You going out caused it.”
Jae-rim’s cold, cutting gaze was like a blade. Feeling cold sweat on his back, Jae-an quickly corrected himself.
“Fine. My fault. Did you hurt her?”
Jae-rim’s raised eyebrow and piercing stare didn’t waver. Unable to bear it, Jae-an spoke again.
“Okay… it’s all my fault.”
As if waiting, Jae-rim turned, tilting his coffee mug.
“Didn’t hurt her. Just terminated her contract.”
The cleaning lady’s proud, chatty voice echoed vividly. Losing her job over turning a doorknob.
Jae-an pressed his throbbing temples, then lowered his hand. At least she wasn’t physically harmed or threatened—a small relief.
Unlike Jae-an, swinging between heaven and hell with every word or action, Jae-rim remained calm and unshakable. Jae-an hated that.
Casting a sour glance at Jae-rim’s feet, he quickly turned away as Jae-rim, sipping coffee, asked again,
“You’ve got clothes. Anything else you want?”
“…Want?”
“You said you were bored to death. What can I do to make you want to live?”
“….”
“I want to go out with you, eat good food, have sex, travel. Don’t you want anything?”
One item stood out strangely, but Jae-an, as always, desperately controlled his expression. Crossing his legs, Jae-rim tapped his foot, muttering as if to himself,
“I’ve thought about what you like.”
“….”
“But I don’t know. Even after 18 years together.”
Silence fell. Jae-rim drank coffee; Jae-an quietly fiddled with his clothes. What he liked… Turning the phrase over, Jae-an spoke slowly.
“…Nothing, really.”
He looked up, meeting Jae-rim’s eyes. Contrary to Jae-rim’s expectation that he’d clam up, Jae-an held his gaze.
He felt he should answer, but his mind was foggy. Hesitating under pressure, his lips parted slowly.
“…I really don’t know.”
Things he wanted, craved—he’d only felt that in longing for death.
He had no hobbies, never admired celebrities. Born dry and barren, he’d lived a monotonous life.
“What did you think?”
But having died and returned, he was suddenly curious.
“When did I seem happiest?”
His dry voice asked plainly, but his eyes, drenched as if dipped in water, fixed on Jae-rim. Too late a question, but he wanted the answer from the one who’d watched him longest.
Setting down his mug, Jae-rim sifted through memories. Jae-an’s smiles were rare but vivid, easy to recall. His lips parted slowly.
“When someone needed you.”
“….”
“You seemed to breathe easier then.”
After a brief silence, Jae-rim answered.
“…Needed.”
Chewing on the word, Jae-an smiled bitterly.
As Jae-rim said, amid endless melancholy, Jae-an had always sought his necessity.
No one had ever needed him. To his mother, he was a burden blocking her escape; to his father, a tool for an affair.
Timid and unathletic, he’d been invisible at school. Jae-rim was the first to make him feel necessary.
It felt good when that abandoned boy found Unit 1004. Knowing he was significant to someone who’d braved dark, rough paths warmed Jae-an quietly.
When Jae-rim sought him for math help, it was never a bother. When the small boy who couldn’t sleep without him got his own room and bed, it was Jae-an who lay awake, stroking the empty space.
Choosing teaching among countless jobs was for the same reason. His heart went to struggling kids, chasing the fullness Jae-rim first gave him.
Jae-an found proof of his existence in voices calling him, eyes seeking him—not from morality, but selfish, self-centered need.
Realizing that petty desire was transparent to young Jae-rim, he felt ashamed.
Swallowing the bitter smile with his last sip of tea, he erased it. Jae-rim, taking his cup, said,
“Time for bed?”
Nodding, Jae-an touched his still-warm fingertips. Jae-rim placed the cups on the home bar and headed to the bedroom.
Jae-an followed. After washing lightly, he lay beside Jae-rim.
Sleeping unbound, in proper clothes, next to Jae-rim felt foreign after so long. If he hadn’t known Jae-rim’s feelings, it might not have been so uneasy. But opening Pandora’s box left his heart restless.
Pushed by stray thoughts, Jae-an couldn’t sleep until dawn. Lying like a corpse, he felt a large hand on his forehead. Jae-rim, awake, seemed to check for fever.
The cold hand slid to his cheek. The mattress dipped closer. His head turned, and something slick and wet met his lips.
Jae-rim, tilting his head, sucked Jae-an’s upper and lower lips alternately. Smack, smack. The sound of swallowing and the brush of a tongue over his wounded mouth stung. Jae-an kept his eyes shut, enduring. If he couldn’t resist, he’d rather pretend ignorance.
Soon, Jae-rim’s tongue parted his lips, its sharp tip grazing his feverish palate and inner cheeks, prodding and retreating.
The thick, lingering kiss continued until Jae-rim pulled back, rubbing Jae-an’s wet lips with his thumb.
“Sleep soon. We’re shopping for clothes tomorrow.”
His soft voice teased, as if knowing Jae-an was faking sleep. Too late to open his eyes, Jae-an clenched his fists under the blanket.