#ian rlly goin through his emotions rn

[paedeul]

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?

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.

“  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? ”