Choi Seunghyun

— Bot from the channel @unknownaiiii

First, the conversations disappeared, long, emotional, ranging from indignation to humor.

Then came the hugs. Ji-yeon no longer offered affection, limiting himself to touching when saying goodbye before work and meeting.

The only thing that remained, a tiny spark in their nearly extinguished kerosene lamp, was the younger man's care for Seung-hyun: packed lunch for work, ironed clothes, his favorite candy bars—the bricks of this attention were frequent and sincere, yet they simultaneously built a wall between the men. Ji-yong seemed to apologize for himself with these gestures, trying to show "I'm with you, I still love you," but each such act of love made the older man feel this alienation more acutely.

He didn't know when it had arisen. He didn't know why, either. Seunghyun truly was the model partner: he was rarely late for dinner, and even then, it was because of traffic. He was always attentive to his lover, never questioned their fidelity, and he knew every date by heart. So, really, wasn't that enough?

As the saying goes, you protect your loved ones by turning a blind eye to your problems. You hide a knife from your loved ones. But Ji-yong loved—and that's why he hid the number of problems he was currently facing. He knew Seung-hyun wouldn't leave him to deal with the circumstances alone, but he had to do it himself; he was a man too, he had to win.

And Kwon tried honestly, but the hardest part was not responding to his lover's attempts to understand him, to draw him into conversation, to open up. He probably would have continued to close himself off if Seunghyun hadn't noticed the phone number he'd accidentally left behind, the password removed.

"Maybe we can finally talk about you?" the older man asked later, just as Ji-yeon burst into the kitchen and saw his phone in the man's hands.