Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JGulAZnnTKA&list=RDJGulAZnnTKA&start_radio=1

Soundtrack: Colors by Halsey

The first time Ilay Riegrow saw Jeong Taeui, the first thing he noticed was how incredibly innocent the boy's eyes looked.

A football landed squarely against his shoulder before he had even taken a second sip of the canned coffee in his hand, splashing the bitter liquid across the front of his shirt.

“Oh, shit—”

The boy hurried over almost immediately. The football slipped from his hands as his eyes landed on the spreading coffee stain, another quiet curse escaping under his breath.

Ilay looked at him. The boy was out of breath, drenched in sweat, his dark hair sticking messily to his forehead. Beneath the sweat lingered a faint, clean scent that reminded him vaguely of baby shampoo. It vanished almost as soon as the boy stepped back. He was a mess, full of that loud, restless energy that young people have.

“Sorry, sir. I didn't see you there.”

He didn't really sound sorry.

Somewhere in the background, voices from the football field shouted for ‘Tay’ to hurry back. Seems like the game was still going.

“It's alright.” Ilay answered shortly.

He poured the remaining coffee onto the grass without another glance. There wasn't much left to drink anyway. He had been looking forward to a few quiet minutes on the park bench before returning to work.

One cigarette, one can of coffee his colleague had insisted he try, and a moment of silence. Instead, a stray football had ruined the drink before he had even finished a second sip.

“Wait, hold this.”

Before Ilay could respond, another football was already flying toward him. Taeui tossed the ball at him.

He caught it out of reflex with both hands.

The boy had disappeared before Ilay even had the chance to ask what he was doing, sprinting toward the bleachers. Moments later, he came running back with a navy-and-white varsity jacket tucked beneath one arm.

Without saying anything, he took the football back from Ilay and held the jacket out instead.

“You're my new neighbor, right? I live with my uncle—Jeong Chang-in—in the same building as you. I'm Jeong Taeui, by the way.”

The boy flashed a wide, toothy grin before jogging backward toward the field. He had already gone several steps when he suddenly stopped and turned around again.

“Oh—and your car is cool.” Jeong Taeui jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Kinda hard not to remember the guy driving something like that. Flashy as fuck, man.”

Then he was gone again, laughing as he shouted something back at his teammates before disappearing into the game.

Ilay remained where he was, the varsity jacket still in his hand. Watching the boy for a few seconds longer than he expected.

After a moment, he let out a quiet snort.

“Strange kid.”

***

The second time Ilay Riegrow encountered Jeong Taeui, he recognized the same curious look in the boy's eyes.

“Ahjussi!”

The familiar voice called out before Ilay finally turned his head. 

That strange kid again.

“Can you give me a ride? My game at the stadium starts in forty minutes.”

“No.”

“Wow, you're so kind, ahjussi. Thanks for the ride.”

Ilay narrowed his eyes.

Without waiting for an answer, the boy simply pulled the passenger door open and simply sat himself down in the passenger seat. He pushed his way in with a gym bag that nearly hit the dashboard, his gaze wandering briefly across the dashboard before he reached for the seatbelt and clicked it into place as though he owned the place.

The boy wore a blue varsity jacket over his team's number 10 jersey, black training pants, and a pair of scuffed running shoes. His dark hair was still slightly damp, carrying the clean scent of shampoo and beneath a faint trace of cheap cologne—far too sweet for Ilay's taste.

Ilay shot him a look, clearly unhappy, before turning the key in the ignition.

He had neither the time nor the patience to argue over something so stupid. He started the engine, fully intending to leave the boy at the first traffic light they came across.

“You’re 28? I figured you’d be around Uncle Chang-in’s age since you're his colleague. We're only eight years apart, then. I could call you hyung instead of ahjussi.”

The boy spoke casually. Without asking, he began looking through the papers on the dashboard until he found Ilay's birth year. Only then did it occur to Ilay that the boy had never once spoken to him in English. Most people instinctively did the moment they saw his face, assuming he wouldn't understand Korean.

But Ilay didn't say anything. He kept his eyes on the road, one hand loosely gripping the steering wheel.

Occasionally, from the corner of his eye, he caught the silhouette beside him.

The boy sat with one knee raised slightly, one arm resting against the window, completely at ease. He began to wonder what kind of presence Jeong Taeui in his social circles. It wasn't difficult to imagine the kind of attention someone like him received. With a face like that and such an easygoing manner, he was probably popular.

The sort of person who probably wouldn't be difficult to get into bed, exactly the kind Ilay would've slept with.

But—20 years old. So young.

“Hey, give me your secret for getting dates.”

Ilay barely spared him a glance. “What for? Does someone like you really need tips for that?”

Jeong Taeui laughed. “I’m nothing compared to you, hyung.” He answered with a casual air, leaning one arm against the door as he looked out the window. “At least I don't bring home a different person to sleep with every week.”

Ilay didn't respond immediately. He knew the boy was mocking him, or perhaps trying to dig for information. Then again, Ilay had never cared much for privacy. He merely let out a quiet snort, keeping his eyes on the road.

“You've been watching me for a while, haven't you?”

Jeong Taeui shrugged lightly. “Like I said, you're way too flashy, man.” His smile lingered. “No offense, but I think you're cool. Well-paid job, fancy car, and you've got the looks. I bet they're all just toys to you.”

This time, Ilay said nothing. The faint half-smile that had lingered on his face disappeared almost imperceptibly.

“Do you want to see my game, hyung?”

The boy asked suddenly, as though the conversation had taken a completely different turn. “I usually look way cooler when I play, I swear. I'm the team captain, by the way.”

Ilay glanced at him briefly.

“A bright kid, aren't you?”

His answer came a moment later. “Maybe another time.”

***

The third time Ilay saw Jeong Taeui, disappointment seemed to weigh heavily on the boy.

After work, Ilay returned to the park and settled onto the bench with a cigarette between his fingers. His gaze drifted toward the football field, landing on a familiar figure—the Jeong boy, sprinting another lap around the track. Even from this distance, he could see the boy's shoulders rising with every labored breath, sweat dripping steadily from his jaw as his pace never slowed.

The sun was already beginning to set, yet Jeong Taeui showed no sign of stopping. One by one, his teammates packed their gear and left the field while he continued to run alone.

"Captain won't stop training again."

One of the players spoke as they passed near the bench, his voice carrying clearly enough for Ilay to hear. As they continued to gossip, Ilay watched the boy complete another lap before flicking the ash from his cigarette—he had already lost count of how many he'd smoked by now.

"Don't be surprised. We lost yesterday. Tay always punishes himself when that happens."

Aha.

Ilay raised an eyebrow, finally understanding why Jeong Taeui looked so disheveled. Even his footsteps had seemed heavier than before, driven by a frustration that was directed entirely at himself.

Ambitious.

But still childish.

By nine o'clock, Ilay watched Jeong Taeui make his way toward the bench. The boy was drenched in sweat, the muscles in his calves tightening with every step, veins standing out along his forearms as each breath came in short, ragged gasps. He clearly looked exhausted.

“You look terrible,” Ilay remarked.

Jeong Taeui looked back at him with a frown.

“Why are you still here?” he shot back defensively. “To laugh at me?”

Ilay didn't answer immediately. He merely looked at the boy with the same bored expression.

“Kid, that's none of my business.”

He pushed himself to his feet, rolling one shoulder to loosen the stiffness from sitting there for so long.

The boy muttered something under his breath something about him being ‘old men’, just loud enough for Ilay to hear, but Ilay paid it no mind. Instead, he turned and headed toward the parking lot, simply gesturing with his fingers for the boy to follow.

He followed a step behind without a word. By the time they reached the car, Ilay had already settled into the driver's seat. Jeong Taeui, however, remained standing beside the passenger door. A second later, it swung open from the inside. Ilay had reached across the center console without saying a word, simply holding it open for him.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of Ilay's mouth, as he caught a flicker of hesitation in Jeong Taeui's eyes before the boy finally climbed in and pulled the door shut behind him.

“You still have my jacket, don't you?”

That was the first thing Jeong Taeui asked, breaking the silence as Ilay started the engine and pulled away. When Ilay didn't answer, the boy pressed on.

“Don't tell me you threw it away.”

“No,” Ilay answered shortly, his eyes never leaving the road.

“Good.” Jeong Taeui nodded to himself before turning back toward the window. “Then I won't need to borrow any clothes if I stay at your place.”

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of Ilay's mouth.

“You said it yourself,” he said, waiting until Taeui looked back at him. He turned the steering wheel with one hand, his index finger idly tapping against the leather. “The people I bring home... I fuck.”

Silence settled between them.

From the corner of his eye, Ilay caught Jeong Taeui blinking several times, surprise flashing briefly across the boy's face. Then came the slow smile, as though he had finally understood the game. It was quite a sight—the embarrassment vanished almost instantly, replaced by the same cocky, unfazed expression as before.

“Is this how you pick up your bed partners?” The boy asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Do a small favor, then drag them into your bed?”

Ilay inclined his head.

“You'll need to do a lot more than that to get me, sir,” Jeong Taeui added, as though delivering a verdict.

A quiet hum of amusement escaped Ilay.

He found Jeong Taeui's arrogance intriguing. Even more intriguing was the way the boy's ears had already turned bright red despite the bravado. For some reason, Ilay found himself easing off the accelerator.

“I don't have any food at my place,” Ilay said at last, letting the subject drop. “Want to pick something up?”

This time, Jeong Taeui nodded.

“Sure.”

;

Ilay waited near the checkout counter while taking a phone call. From where he stood, his eyes followed Jeong Taeui wandering through the aisles, casually tossing canned drinks and oversized bags of snacks into the shopping basket.

There wasn't a single proper meal in the basket; mostly processed food, hardly anything that could pass as an actual meal.

Typical university student, no wonder he eats like shit.

Watching the basket fill with little more than junk food, Ilay stepped away from the counter and gestured with his fingers for Jeong Taeui to follow.

The boy did so without a word, weaving after him through the aisles while Ilay continued speaking into his phone in German. Without breaking the conversation, Ilay reached for one ready-to-eat meal after another, dropping them into the basket until it was nearly full.

Jeong Taeui stopped in front of him, staring down at the overflowing basket in confusion.

“Hyung.”

He reached out and caught Ilay by the wrist while the older man continued speaking on the phone. Ilay glanced down at him.

Jeong Taeui frowned—wait, why does it feel like he's taking care of me? Hell no. 

“I don’t need this much.”

Ilay offered no reply. He simply continued the conversation on the other end of the line, pausing only briefly to answer something in German before reaching for another ready-to-eat meal.

“What language is that?” Jeong Taeui asked out of nowhere, watching Ilay continue the unintelligible conversation. “Sounds kind of rough... but it suits you.”

Ilay finished his sentence before finally lowering the phone.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing.” Jeong Taeui shrugged, still standing beside him. “Forget it.”

Ilay studied him for a brief moment. The boy was clearly annoyed that he'd been ignored. Tilting his chin toward the refrigerated section, Ilay changed the subject.

“I'm getting beer. You?”

“Oh—right.” At the mention of beer, Jeong Taeui's eyes lit up almost instantly. “Then me too. I'll get the coldest one.”

Another faint smile touched the corner of Ilay's mouth as the boy hurried toward the refrigerated section without another thought.

Remarkably easy to read.  

A short while later, they carried the shopping bags back to the car. Jeong Taeui watched as Ilay pressed the key fob, the trunk lifting open with a smooth mechanical hum.

“You're like a sugar daddy, hyung.”

Ilay answered with a light flick to the boy's forehead, and Jeong Taeui burst into laughter.

Just like that, the frustration from earlier seemed to disappear.

;

“Whoa, I didn’t know the view was this good from up here.”

Jeong Taeui wandered straight toward the floor-to-ceiling windows the moment he stepped inside.

Ilay paid him little attention. He set the shopping bags on the kitchen counter before heading to his bedroom, returning a moment later with a fresh change of clothes tucked beneath one arm and a cold can of beer in the other.

By the time he came back, Jeong Taeui was still standing by the glass, one hand resting lightly against it as he watched the raindrops trace perfect patterns across the city skyline beyond.

The boy's gaze wandered slowly around the apartment.

Everything sat exactly where it belonged. The shelves were spotless, the countertops empty, and there wasn't a single object out of place. There wasn't even the faint scent of someone living there. The entire apartment felt less like a home than a showroom.

"It's ridiculously clean in here. ...Are you secretly a psycho or something?"

Ilay merely raised an eyebrow.

He had grown used to the boy's habit of saying whatever crossed his mind.

Ignoring the comment, Ilay walked over. Jeong Taeui seemed too absorbed in watching the rain to notice him until his shadow fell across the window. Only then did the boy turn his head. Without a word, Ilay held out the can of beer and the change of clothes.

“I thought you'd make your guest sleep in dirty clothes, hyung.”

Jeong Taeui chuckled as he took both from him.

Ilay had already turned toward the coffee table, taking a sip from his own beer before answering. “My guests usually take their clothes off before they sleep.”

From across the room, Jeong Taeui let out a tired click of his tongue.

“Is that what you tell all your fuck buddies?”

Ilay smirked behind his can,

“Why? Interested in being one?” he asked evenly, his gaze swept over the boy once before he took another sip. “Look at you—you're too young. Come back another time.”

He shooed Jeong Taeui away with a playful grin. The boy answered by flashing him the middle finger, drawing an amused laugh from Ilay.

Jeong Taeui huffed in annoyance, leaving the laughing man behind as he wandered into the master bedroom.

The room was no different from the living area. Everything sat neatly in its place, almost unnaturally so. If one didn't look closely, it was difficult to find anything that actually belonged to the owner.

Ilay followed a few steps behind.

“This room smells like you, hyung.”

Without the slightest hesitation, the boy threw himself onto the neatly made bed as though it belonged to him. His shoulders sank into the mattress before he stretched lazily, his eyes drifting toward the ceiling.

“Hey.”

Ilay warned as he gave the boy's calf a light slap.

“Take a shower and change your clothes before you get on there. If you get your sweat on those sheets, you're washing everything in this room.”

Jeong Taeui sat up, a spark lighting his eyes. “Can I sleep here?”

“No.” Ilay looked down at him. The answer came without a second thought. “You sleep on the sofa. This is my bed.”

“Why are you suddenly acting like an old man, hyung? I thought we were friends now.”

The boy grumbled under his breath as he climbed off the bed. When he came to stand beside Ilay, the scent of fresh linen gave way to the sweat and cheap, overly sweet cologne clinging to him.

“You're proving my point.”

An irritated look was the only response Ilay received. Shaking his head in quiet disapproval, he settled into the single-seater by the window.

The boy stood with his hands on his hips, slowly scanning the room. His eyes gleamed with mischief when they landed on the items resting on the small table beside Ilay's chair.

“No family photos, almost no personal stuff... but you keep two expensive whiskey glasses.” Jeong Taeui tilted his head. “How many people have slept here?”

Ilay didn't answer. His fingers continued moving across the screen of his phone, ignoring the boy entirely.

“This unit is supposed to have two bedrooms, right?” Jeong Taeui wandered a few steps farther into the apartment, peeking toward the closed door down the hallway. “Don't tell me...”

Ilay stopped typing.

He set his phone down on the table before finally looking up.

“You use that room as a playroom—you know, like that guy in adult movies who has a special room.”

The teasing grin on that boy’s face finally tested Ilay's patience.

“If you want to interrogate my life, do it tomorrow.”

Ilay responded as he rose to his feet, placing a hand against Jeong Taeui's shoulder and steering him toward the bedroom door.

“Your choices are the sofa out there, or go home. Your uncle's unit is only a few floors away. I don't even need to drive you.”

At the mention of 'go home' Jeong Taeui frowned.

“I don't want to go home.” Slipping out from under Ilay's hand, he added more quietly, “My uncle usually comes home late with Jaeui. That place is always empty.”

Jeong Taeui's voice dropped as he finished the sentence. He avoided Ilay's gaze almost immediately, his eyes lingering on the floor as he rubbed the back of his neck. The boy clearly disliked showing that side of himself—perhaps he hated being looked at with pity.

So the boy had his pride after all.

Ilay remained silent for a moment before reaching over to ruffle the back of Jeong Taeui's hair.

“Alright.” His voice remained as flat as ever. “Do what you want, kid.”

.

.

.

That night, Jeong Taeui fell asleep on Ilay's bed almost as soon as his head touched the pillow. He'd eaten too much.

Sometime after midnight, he woke to find Ilay asleep in the living room, slumped against the sofa with the television still playing some late-night program. Smiling to himself, Jeong Taeui reached for the remote and switched it off. After checking the time on his phone, he quietly slipped on his shoes and headed home.

When Ilay woke the next morning, he found his bedroom duvet draped over him. There was a yellow sticky note waiting for him on the coffee table.

My next game: xx, 4 p.m. Same place as yesterday.

P.S. Thanks for the beer. I took all of it.

Ilay's gaze lingered on the note for a few seconds longer than he realized. The handwriting was unmistakably Jeong Taeui's—large and messy, as though the boy had been laughing while scribbling it down.

His eyes drifted to the empty shopping bag beside the table.

.... Every beer can from the night before was gone.

***

Jeong Taeui wasn't lying when he said he looked ten times cooler during a football match.

Ilay had only intended to stay for a few minutes. Even arriving with barely fifteen minutes left on the clock, it wasn't difficult to understand why the boy was so admired on campus.

His competitive streak showed in every movement. Even drenched in sweat, his breathing ragged with exhaustion, Jeong Taeui never stopped smiling. He flashed wide grins as he traded high-fives with his teammates, shouted something across the field, then took off after the ball again with effortless agility.

There wasn't a trace of hesitation in the way he moved. The boy looked genuinely thrilled, savoring every second of the match—as though he was having the best time of his life.

When the final whistle blew and Jeong Taeui's team secured the win, his head lifted almost immediately.

Their eyes met across the field.

Ilay remained where he was, his arms folded loosely across his chest, a cap pulled low to hide most of his blond hair. Across the field, he saw Jeong Taeui smile and raise a hand toward him. After a brief pause, he answered with a small nod.

—that seemed to be enough.

The boy was swallowed almost instantly by celebrating teammates, disappearing beneath a noisy wave of cheers, laughter, and congratulatory pats on the back. Ilay watched the celebration for another moment before glancing at his watch.

It was time to head back.

“Hey, hyung!”

Ilay's footsteps came to a halt. Turning around, he found Jeong Taeui jogging across the parking lot to catch up with him. The boy was still in his jersey, his breathing heavy and ragged even from where Ilay stood.

“Didn't think you'd actually show up, hyung,” Jeong Taeui said between gasps as he finally reached him.

Somehow, they fell into a natural rhythm, walking side-by-side toward Ilay’s car.

“Neither did I.” Ilay glanced at his watch. “I missed the beginning. Today was a bit hectic.”

“I know.” Jeong Taeui paused to take another swig of his drink before roughly wiping the sweat and water from the back of his neck with his sleeve. “I kept looking for you in the crowd the whole time. I was so happy when I finally spotted you.”

Ilay turned at those words.

Jeong Taeui was smiling at him again—the wide, toothy grin. There wasn't the slightest trace of politeness in it. The boy looked genuinely grateful that he had come.

“I have to get back to the office,” Ilay said, breaking eye contact as he pulled his keys from his pocket and unlocked the car. “Good game, kid. See you tomorrow.”

Before he could close the door, Jeong Taeui caught it, holding it half-open as he leaned closer.

“You mean see you later, right?”

Ilay raised an eyebrow, an unspoken question.

“I can come over after work later, can't I?” The boy repeated, more carefully this time. His voice remained steady, every word leaving his mouth without hesitation, yet the tips of his ears had already begun turning bright red. Just like before.

“But... it's fine if you're busy. I mean—shit, forget what I said.”

Realizing what he'd just blurted out, Jeong Taeui hurriedly tried to push the half-open door shut.

Ilay let out a soft laugh. Rolling the window down again, he reached out and tapped Jeong Taeui's forehead once with his index finger.

“You can come over later, Jeong Taeui.”

He punctuated the words with two more light taps against the boy's forehead.

Jeong Taeui reflexively covered his forehead, startled for only a second before breaking into another grin. “Okay! I'll bring some ramyeon to cook there.”

At the boy’s bold remark, Ilay simply smiled.

As he shifted the car into gear, Ilay glanced at the rearview mirror. A flash of the same blue jersey caught his eye as one of Jeong Taeui's teammates looked around the parking lot. Moments later, voices echoed across the distance—

“Captain! Coach is looking for you!”

“Don't run away!”

“Go, kid.” Ilay rolled the window back up. “They're looking for you.”

Even through the glass, he caught Jeong Taeui letting out an exasperated sigh.

“Aish...”

The words were muffled, but the movement of the boy's lips was easy enough to read: ‘See you later, ahjussi!’

As the car pulled away, a smile found its way onto Ilay's face.

“See you later, Captain.”

***

Ilay closed his laptop, his gaze drifting toward the back of a head illuminated by the television screen. Jeong Taeui looked entirely too comfortable in his apartment. The boy had even brought over his own Xbox, treating the living room TV as though it were his own.

He had assumed Jeong Taeui wouldn't stay long. The last time, the boy had gone home before midnight. Tonight, however, he seemed perfectly content to ignore whatever curfew he supposedly had.

Rising from the dining table, Ilay walked over and, without warning, switched off the television.

“Stop playing, kid. How many hours have you been at it?”

“Hey!” Jeong Taeui jerked upright, staring at the suddenly black screen before looking back at Ilay. Surprisingly, he didn't sound nearly as disappointed as someone whose game had just been interrupted.

“You haven't even played with me yet!” he complained.

Jeong Taeui held a controller out toward Ilay, practically forcing the older man to join him. The boy immediately brightened when Ilay reached out to take it, only for the older man to calmly set it down on the sofa beside him instead.

He let out an exaggerated groan.

Ilay folded his arms across his chest, watching him for a brief moment before speaking as though only just remembering; "Besides, don't come by next week. I don't know if I've already told you this, but I won't be home starting Monday."

"Huh? Really?" Jeong Taeui blinked. "Where are you going?"

"Work. I'll be away for about three days."

"...Three whole days?" Jeong Taeui stared at him before clicking his tongue. "Hyung, you seriously suck at telling people things. Couldn't you have told me earlier? I would've brought more games."

"I'm telling you now." Ilay's glanced toward the clock before returning to him. "Go home, kid. I need to sleep."

"No."

Jeong Taeui took the controller back from the sofa, then reached for Ilay's wrist before the older man could take another step.

"You can't leave without playing, hyung. You owe me one now."

He tugged lightly at Ilay's hand. "Come onnn. You're playing. Besides, it's basically the weekend already."

Ilay let out a quiet sigh. The stubborn grip around his wrist didn't loosen in the slightest, nor did the look on Taeui's face—he clearly had no intention of going home.

"...Like you said," he replied at last. "It's the weekend. You know my schedule better than anyone."

Despite the lazy tone of his reply, Ilay accepted the controller with an expression that suggested it was a terrible idea. Even so, he lowered himself onto the sofa.

Jeong Taeui watched him with a victorious smirk.

"It won't kill you to take a break from your routine, hyung." He leaned back comfortably. "Looks like your weekly hookup plans are canceled from now on. It's not like you can bring your girls over while I'm here."

The remark was clearly mocking him, but Ilay chose to ignore it.

.

.

.

For the next few hours, their shouts filled the apartment as neither was willing to back down. Both were equally stubborn once competition was involved, and game after game slipped by unnoticed until night gave way to the first hints of dawn.

It had been a long time since Ilay had stayed awake for something so utterly pointless. Before Jeong Taeui began dropping by, every day had blended into the next, settling into the same boring—predictable cycle with little variation.

The digital clock read 4:00 a.m, they had long since blown past their bedtime.

The excitement from the last match had long since faded, leaving behind only the dull heaviness of sleep tugging at the back of his eyes. Ilay couldn't remember the last time exhaustion had crept up on him this quietly.

“Hyung.”

The boy, who had been sitting on the carpet by Ilay's feet, spoke up before shifting his weight against the older man's legs.

“Hm?”

“My eyes are so heavy.” Jeong Taeui blinked several times and shook his head. “I feel like I could fall asleep right here.”

“Then sleep.” Ilay set the controller aside.

Despite fighting off sleep, Jeong Taeui immediately looked up at him, as though afraid he was about to get up.

Instead, without a word, he lowered his head onto Ilay's lap.

One of Ilay's eyebrows lifted as he looked down at the boy. The movement was clumsy. Still half asleep, Jeong Taeui shifted once... then again, mumbling something unintelligible as he searched for a comfortable position before finally settling with a quiet sigh.

Feeling the sharp gaze of the man whose knees he was using as a pillow, Jeong Taeui boldly reached up, caught Ilay's wrist, and drew his hand over his own eyes as though using it to block out the light.

Ilay's fingertips grazed the soft strands at Jeong Taeui’s forehead. The unfamiliar weight resting across his lap made his hand twitch almost instinctively. Before he realized it, his fingers were already idly combing the stray strands back in slow, absent-minded strokes.

The warm breaths brushing against his palm gradually slowed, settling into the steady rhythm of sleep. Somewhere along the way, the unfamiliar weight ceased to feel unfamiliar. Minutes slipped by unnoticed until all that remained was the quiet warmth of another person's breathing against his hand.

Ilay let out a quiet sigh and rested his head against the back of the sofa.

“Kid...” he murmured. “You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?”

His voice was little more than a sleepy hum. Jeong Taeui’s eyelashes fluttered once before settling again.

There was no answer.

Ilay watched the last trace of wakefulness fade from the boy's face. Just before Jeong Taeui slipped fully into sleep, he caught another fragment of that low voice: ‘You’re getting—... never mind.’

The words died before they could fully leave Ilay's mouth. Whether the boy had heard them no longer mattered.

And for the rest of that morning, Jeong Taeui remained fast asleep in his lap.

***

After that day, Taeui began spending more and more time at Ilay's apartment. The boy shamelessly started treating it like a second home, leaving snack wrappers scattered around, forgetting his socks in random corners, and even stocking the man's empty refrigerator with his own supply of beer.

So when Taeui showed up at his door late one night, bruised and repeatedly pressing the intercom, Ilay didn't ask a single question. He simply jerked his head in silent invitation, stepping aside to let the boy drag himself inside before quietly shutting the door behind him.

Up close, the injuries looked worse than they had at first glance. One side of Taeui's face had already begun to swell, while dried blood clung stubbornly to the corner of his mouth.

Ilay led him into the bathroom. Taeui barely made it to the sink before leaning over to spit out a mouthful of blood. As he straightened, his legs suddenly gave out, and he slid onto the cold tile floor, one hand still braced against the sink, leaving fresh streaks of blood across the white porcelain.

Without a word, Ilay grabbed a bottle of antiseptic from the cabinet and tossed it at him.

Taeui caught it, but it slipped through his clumsy fingers with a sharp clatter before rolling to a stop against Ilay's foot.

“Hyung—ugh, can you, um...”

Help me.

The words went unspoken, but Ilay picked up the bottle and walked over to Taeui, who watched him intently.

"Sit up there, kid." Tilting his chin toward the sink, he waited while Taeui awkwardly pulled himself onto the dry marble counter.

Taeui's gaze followed Ilay's long, steady fingers as they cleaned the wounds on his face and body, a small towel carefully wiping the blood from his bruised knuckles as though making sure not a single cut was overlooked.

His eyes drifted to Ilay's face. Somehow, it looked no different from the one he remembered months ago. At first, it had been the Bentley that caught his attention, but it was the man stepping out of it who had made him look twice.

Back then, a woman had chased after him from the passenger seat, slipping her arm through his. Taeui's first thought was that they genuinely looked good together.

The impression didn't last long.

Then came the next woman. And the one after that. Before long, he'd lost count of how many different partners Ilay had brought home.

Even after they'd gotten to know each other... Ilay still showed up with women every now and then. Taeui would catch sight of him walking into the apartment with one, or leaving with her—sometimes it was someone he'd seen before, sometimes it wasn't. One time, he'd even caught the man fooling around in his car. Seriously, he had no shame.

Yeah, he thought, the guy is a jerk.

And that jerk was the one taking care of him now.

Ilay's dark eyes, framed by long lashes, lifted to meet Taeui's. He paused, noticing the boy was still staring at him. A silent question lingered in his gaze—one Taeui understood all too well.

"You know, hyung. You're not usually this nice." Taeui's voice came out rough. He coughed a few times before spitting another mouthful of blood into the sink.

Ilay waited in silence.

"If I were a girl, you'd have fucked me by now, wouldn't you?"

"...What?"

Ilay's voice came out sharper than usual, his brow knitting into a deep frown. The reaction drew a dry chuckle from Taeui. So he'd hit a nerve after all.

"No wonder women keep lining up for you. Show them the slightest bit of kindness and you probably have them already falling all over themselves."

Too caught up in his own words, Taeui failed to notice the subtle shift in Ilay's gaze.

“If you think I’m going to put up with your bullshit, you’d better leave.” Ilay squeezed the blood-stained towel. “I’m not your babysitter.”

“Are you offended? Did I cross a line into your privacy?” Taeui’s tone was mocking.

"You think this place isn't my privacy?" Ilay's voice dropped, his expression turning colder with it. "Why don't you just go back to your own place?"

The question made Taeui's expression harden.

“Tha—"

Just as he opened his mouth to snap back, Ilay cut him off.

"Afraid of going home?" his gaze stayed fixed on Taeui. "Don't want your uncle asking questions?"

Taeui's lips parted.

"Or..." Ilay's voice dropped even lower. The slight crease between Taeui's brows twitched almost imperceptibly. "...is it because you're scared he won't care enough to ask?"

“Don’t act like you know me!” Taeui snapped.

That was answer enough.

Ilay tossed the bloodstained towel aside. "I don't have time for this. Get out of my place, kid. I have my own business to do."

Already losing interest in the argument, he turned and headed for the door.

"What business?" Taeui called after him, his voice suddenly bolder. "You mean your whores? The ones you can't bring here anymore because I'm around every day? Is that the business you're talking about, Riegrow!?”

Ilay stopped mid-step.

Slowly, he turned back at the sound of his surname being barked so loudly from Taeui’s mouth.

"You're just a kid," he said, placing deliberate emphasis on the word. "Don't talk like you know what you're doing."

"Me, a kid?" Taeui let out a scoff, irritation flashing across his face at the way Ilay kept lecturing him. "Then what makes me an adult, huh? Do I have to spread my legs for you? Like everyone else!"

“Watch your mouth, verdammt.”

The words came out in German, every syllable as sharp as the glare Ilay shot him. He turned away, pulling the bathroom door open in one sharp motion before disappearing into the hallway.

Taeui scrambled down from the counter, his legs still unsteady. By the time he stumbled out of the bathroom, Ilay's voice drifted down the hallway.

The sound made him frown. It was strange. Only moments ago, they'd been yelling at each other. Now Ilay's voice had already settled back into its usual flat, even tone, as though the argument had never happened.

"Who are you talking to?" Taeui demanded through gritted teeth.

He had assumed Ilay was on the phone. What the hell was so important that it couldn't wait? They weren't done talking! But the moment he stepped into the living room, he stopped.

A woman stood near the pantry.

She wore a neatly pressed office blouse and skirt, her dark hair tied back in a tidy ponytail. She looked between the two men with open confusion, but Ilay simply continued their conversation.

For a brief second, Taeui couldn't process what he was seeing.

There had been someone else here the entire time?

Ilay glanced at him once, saying nothing. As if Taeui's sudden appearance deserved no more than a passing look, he simply rolled his sleeves farther up his forearms before returning his attention to the woman. She hesitated, stealing another puzzled glance at Taeui before quietly answering Ilay.

The complete dismissal made Taeui's jaw tighten, feeling ignored even while standing right there he ranted again shamelessly.

"...Ha. You had someone over?" The sarcastic question escaped as something dangerously close to a laugh, though all the color had drained from his face. "Right now?"

Neither of them answered.

"You couldn't even wait until I left!?"

The woman quietly stepped aside, apparently deciding it was best not to interrupt. Lowering her gaze, she gave Ilay room to deal with whatever this was.

Letting out a long sigh, Ilay finally walked over.

He stopped in front of Taeui. His eyes met the younger man's coldly before he lifted a hand, pointing first at Taeui, then toward the front door. “Why do I even bother talking to you? Get out.”

"Haha, of course." Taeui let out a hollow laugh. "You've always been a bastard."

He turned on his heel and hurried toward the foyer. His fingers trembled as he fumbled with his shoes, nearly losing his balance before finally wrenching the front door open—Taeui looked back one last time.

Ilay was already gone.

His calm voice drifted from somewhere deeper inside the apartment as he resumed speaking with the woman, as though nothing had happened.

It was as if the battered boy leaving his apartment wasn't worth a second thought.

;

Ilay would be lying if he said Jeong Taeui's attitude hadn't annoyed him.

He’d been in the middle of a discussion with his secretary when the intercom repeatedly sounded. Realizing it was Taeui outside—bruised and in no condition to be left alone—he’d excused himself immediately, cleaned the boy’s wounds, and waited for him to settle down.

Instead, Taeui had met him with accusations and stubbornly refused to listen. Left with little patience for an argument going nowhere, Ilay had returned to resume the discussion, leaving the younger man to cool off on his own—only for Taeui to storm into the living room moments later, causing a scene in front of his secretary.

After finally seeing her out and wrapping up the business she’d originally come for, the apartment fell quiet again. Only then did Ilay sink onto the sofa, rubbing a hand over his face. For the first time that evening, there was nothing demanding his immediate attention.

And, inevitably, his thoughts circled back to the boy.

However irritated he had been, one thought refused to leave him.

Eventually, Ilay reached for his phone and called his colleague—Jeong Chang-in.

He didn't bother explaining why he was asking about the man's nephew in the middle of the night. It had already been four hours since the boy had stormed out. His brow gradually furrowed as Chang-in admitted Taeui hadn't come home.

That didn't sit right.

Ilay clicked his tongue. Taeui's ego wouldn't allow him to run to a friend's house. The boy was far too proud to show up on someone's doorstep looking like that.

With a quiet sigh, Ilay grabbed his coat and headed back out into the night to find him.

.

.

.

It didn't take long before Ilay found Jeong Taeui sitting in the small garden outside the apartment building, his body curled in on itself as it trembled against the cold. The moment the boy noticed him approaching, he stubbornly lashed out with a kick.

"Go away, you bastard. I don't want your pity,"

Taeui hissed through heavy breaths.

Ilay caught his ankle with one hand before the kick could land. "If I wanted to pity you, I wouldn't have left you sitting here this long."

His eyes swept over the boy's pale face before he reached out, and despite Taeui's weak struggle, Ilay managed to press the back of his hand against his forehead. The heat beneath his skin made him frown, and when he checked Taeui's wrist a moment later, it was just as hot, the fever having spread through every inch of the boy's body.

A quiet sigh escaped him.

"If you're planning to freeze to death, do it somewhere else." Without waiting for another round of stubborn protests, Ilay tightened his grip on Taeui's wrist. "Get up, Jeong Taeui."

The fierce glare aimed back at him made Ilay let out a quiet scoff. He knew that look well enough by now. There wasn't the slightest chance the boy would stand on his own. Slipping one arm beneath Taeui's knees, Ilay lifted him effortlessly onto his shoulder despite the immediate struggle that followed.

"You just kicked me out, you jerk! Put me down!"

Taeui twisted and pushed weakly against his back, but the resistance barely slowed Ilay's steps. By the time they reached the apartment again, the younger man's angry protests had already dissolved into breathless grumbling.

Ilay carried him straight into the bedroom before setting him down on the mattress. Only then did the nonsense begin.

"You just had your woman over... damn it..."

The words came out in weak, slurred mumbles, more petulant than accusing. Ilay spared him a brief glance before turning toward the bedside drawer to retrieve the thermometer.

"Stop pretending to be nice..." Taeui weakly slapped his hand away. "...bastard."

Ilay looked at him for a moment before calmly taking hold of his wrist again.

"Are you done?" he challenged, almost inviting Taeui to throw another insult at him. "Your clothes are going to stain my sheets. Are you changing them yourself, or am I doing it?"

Taeui met his gaze with fever-bright eyes, stubbornly refusing to look away despite the tears beginning to gather at the corners. Ilay took the silence as his answer and simply continued.

One by one, he untied Taeui's shoes, unbuckled his belt, slipped the necklace over the boy's head, then peeled away the damp, bloodstained clothes. The boy resisted every now and then, more out of stubborn habit than strength, but the movements gradually slowed until he finally gave up, leaving Ilay to finish changing him into clean, dry clothes.

Then, after pulling the blanket over him, Ilay rose from the bed.

"I'm going to buy some medicine. Stay here."

Before he could step away, fingers wrapped around his wrist.

The grip was weak, yet unexpectedly firm. Ilay glanced back. Taeui's unfocused eyes blinked several times, as though he were forcing himself to stay conscious long enough to speak.

"I hit them first," he suddenly blurted out.

Ilay said nothing.

"...It felt so stupid." Taeui let out a small, bitter laugh that sounded more exhausted than amused. "My friends knew I've been coming here a lot lately. They called you a bastard... a playboy who throws money around to sleep with women."

His breathing hitched as the words tumbled out faster and faster.

"I didn't even know why I hit them." He frowned weakly, his voice faltered. "I know you're a jerk—but they talked like they knew you. And they don't... wait... maybe I don't know you either."

Ilay remained silent, allowing the boy to speak.

Taeui's fingers slowly shifted from Ilay's wrist to the front of his shirt, clutching the fabric as though afraid he'd disappear if he let go.

“I don’t know you, ...but I always end up coming back here." His grip tightened. "I'm frustrated with myself because I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know why I'm becoming so pathetic. I I'm always looking for reasons to come back... to be taken care of by you... to let you look after me...”

Another shaky breath escaped him.

"...I don't have anywhere else that feels like this."

"You have a fever, Taeui. Stop talking.”

Ilay reached to ease Taeui back beneath the blanket, but the younger man only clutched his shirt tighter, using it to pull himself forward until his forehead rested against Ilay's chest.

"Hyung—you,” The word came out muffled. "When you came to my match... when I saw you standing there watching me. I thought...” He paused, fingers tightened once more. “I thought—I was special. It felt like I could've walked away from the match... just to be with you. You're always spoiling me... damn it."

His forehead pressed more firmly against Ilay's chest.

Ilay remained where he was, letting Taeui process his emotions. He quietly raised a hand, gently patting Taeui's back as his fingers occasionally brushed through the damp strands of his hair.

“Do I come here too often? Am I bothering you?” The questions were rhetorical.

Ilay looked down at the nape of Taeui's neck, flushed red from the fever—or perhaps from the heat rising to his face. "You're not."

"Then don't bring women over anymore, hyung." His voice had grown so quiet Ilay almost missed it, but the grip on his shirt only tightened. A moment later, Ilay could feel a damp patch soaking through his clothes. "I hate seeing them at your place... I'm so jealous it feels like I could die."

The words came out in a broken mess.

Ilay's hand stilled as he heard the raw honesty pouring from Taeui’s mind.

Beneath his palm, Taeui's heartbeat hammered against his back. The fever had stripped away the mask Taeui always wore around him, letting every buried thought surface before pride or stubbornness could conceal it again.

"I'm not a kid. Stop treating me like one." Taeui clutched at Ilay's shirt again, but this time Ilay could feel the hand trembling against the fabric.

His voice wavered.

"... ....You.... you can fuck me every weekend if you want.. or every day—as long as there isn't a match the next day, I can handle it."

Ilay remained silent, his gaze fixed on the top of Taeui's head.

As though determined to prove he meant it, the boy's trembling hand slipped toward the waistband of his pants. But the man brushed it aside, pinning him back against the mattress with a hand on each shoulder.

Taeui frowned, looking almost pitiful.

“You don’t want me….?”

"You don't know what you're saying," Ilay said, holding him down as Taeui made another weak attempt to sit up. There was no force in the boy's struggle anymore, but Ilay kept his hands where they were. "We'll talk again when your fever is gone."

"Stay here. I'll get you some medicine."

Ilay straightened, only for the fabric of his shirt to pull taut as Taeui's hand closed around it once more, refusing to let go. He let out a quiet sigh. Even burning with fever, the boy's stubbornness remained as relentless as ever.

Giving up on prying the hand loose, Ilay bent down once more and gently patted Taeui's flushed cheek, "I'll kiss you if you go to sleep now."

Hearing that, Taeui fell silent for a moment before finally letting go of Ilay's shirt. Ilay eased him back against the pillow and pulled the blanket over him, all the while aware of Taeui's eyes quietly following his every movement.

Ilay held his gaze for a few quiet seconds before leaning down to press a light kiss against his forehead.

"Sleep, Jeong Taeui. We'll talk in the morning."

Taeui looked at him as though he were about to protest, his lips already parting in obvious dissatisfaction, but before a single complaint could escape, Ilay's large hand settled over his eyes, gently holding his face still.

"Sleep."

He kept his hand there without another word, waiting as the boy's breathing gradually slowed, the tension leaving his body little by little. It wasn't long before the grip on his shirt loosened completely.

When he finally pulled his hand away, Taeui looked peaceful.

Ilay remained where he was for a long moment, quietly studying the sleeping face before him.

He ran his thumb slowly across the boy's parted lips, lingering there for a brief moment before it slipped just inside, catching the warmth of Taeui's breath as it brushed lightly against the edge of his front teeth. He withdrew his hand just as slowly, then pressed the same thumb against his own lips.

"You're far too honest when you have a fever," he murmured.

Then he switched off the light and quietly left the room.

;

"Don't you dare bring up last night," was his greeting that morning. "I'll kill you if you do." The growl in his voice left little doubt he meant every word.

Having just stepped into the room, Ilay stopped short.

There he is—Jeong Taeui is back to normal. The fever was gone. So was the brutally honest confession from the night before.

Ilay lifted a hand in mock surrender, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Oh dear. I haven't said a word."

"Your eyes did."

"Right." The smirk lingered. "Then stop reading my mind."

Ilay crossed the remaining distance between them, paying no mind to Taeui's muttered protests. The boy stubbornly kept his eyes elsewhere, clearly unwilling to meet him in the eye—at least not today. Even so, the color creeping steadily across Taeui's face betrayed him.

Without another word, Ilay rested the back of his hand against Taeui's forehead, checking his temperature before letting the same hand drift down to inspect the bruises scattered across his body.

Taeui inhaled sharply as Ilay leaned in, the familiar scent of his cologne suddenly far too close. His eyes lifted almost against his will, landing on Ilay's crisp office shirt before drifting up to his neatly combed hair. Damn, the man looked unfairly handsome.

He cleared his throat and quickly looked away again.

“Feeling better?” Ilay asked, taking the wristwatch from his suit pocket and glancing at its face. “You can stay here until you're fully recovered. I'll check on you during my lunch break.”

Taeui fell quiet for a moment, as though genuinely considering it, before giving a small shake of his head.

“I'm fine. I was just cold last night.”

Ilay nodded and reached over to straighten the slightly crooked collar of Taeui's shirt. “Do you have classes this morning? Want a ride to campus?”

“Your car's too flashy, hyung,” Taeui muttered. “I don't like people staring at you.”

The answer was vague, but with Taeui still stubbornly avoiding his eyes, Ilay let it pass. “Okay. Practice today?”

“No. Maybe tomorrow.”

“Assignments?”

“Oh…” Taeui froze. “I forgot.”

Ilay gave him a disapproval look.

“I can get someone to help me. It's due this afternoon,” Taeui added almost immediately. “I'll have it sorted before lunch.”

The promise came so quickly it was almost instinctive. Satisfied, Ilay gave a small nod.

“Alright.”

He turned toward the door, only for Taeui's fingers to catch his hand. Ilay glanced back as the boy said: “You forgot something.”

Again—another vague statement, followed by Taeui's innocent stare as he simply looked at Ilay, waiting.

The man tilted his head, unsure. After a brief pause, as though arriving at an answer, he reached into his pocket for his wallet, pulled out one of his credit cards, and set it on the nightstand.

But Taeui only blinked at him in confusion.

"I didn't have time to order your breakfast," Ilay explained matter-of-factly. "Use that to buy food. Or whatever else you need."

If anything, Taeui looked even more bewildered. The boy tightened his grip on Ilay's hand, refusing to let go.

Ilay sighed quietly, checked the time once more, and gave up.

"...I'm going to be late."

"What are you, a sugar daddy?" Taeui scoffed before lowering his voice. "You... promised me a kiss last night, dammit. Don't back out."

"Oh." Ilay didn't seem bothered by the boy's shy expression. "You're right."

His gaze dropped to the faint bruise lingering at the corner of Taeui's lips.

“K—“

Taeui had barely opened his mouth when Ilay decided he didn't need to be told twice. Without warning, he closed the distance in a single stride, bracing one hand against the headboard as he leaned over the boy and kissed him.

He cupped the side of Taeui's face, his thumb pressing gently against his chin until his lips parted. Ilay slipped his tongue inside, deepening the kiss as Taeui's head gradually tipped back, prompting him to slide his hand to the nape of the boy's neck to keep him steady.

The kiss turned messy and intense, and by the time he finally pulled away, a thin silver thread lingered between them. It was exactly what Taeui had asked for.

“Study hard,” Ilay said, gently patting the top of his head. The words felt almost dirty coming from him, his voice roughened by the kiss. “I might give you a reward if you get an A.”

Even with his head still spinning from the kiss, Taeui's tongue recovered faster than the rest of him.

“A reward?” He narrowed his eyes, skepticism already creeping back into his expression. “A bastard like you would still sleep with me as a 'reward' even if I got a D.”

Ilay burst out laughing.

There he was. The Jeong Taeui he knew—the boy's usual boldness had finally returned.

***

Ilay wore a faint smile as he stepped into his apartment, immediately spotting Jeong Taeui's white sneakers sitting haphazardly by the shoe rack. He bent down, placed them neatly on the shelf, the worn sneakers tucked between his own polished leather shoes.

Carrying a few cans of beer he had brought back from his business trip abroad, he headed farther inside. He didn't have to look for long. A familiar figure in a navy hoodie sat at the dining table, completely absorbed in the laptop before him.

Jeong Taeui ate absentmindedly as he worked through an assignment, never noticing Ilay's arrival until a cold beer can pressed against his forehead.

"—Oh, hyung. You're back!"

His eyes widened at the sight of Ilay, then brightened even further when they landed on the can in his hand.

"Schultheiss! You're the best, hyung!"

Taeui jumped to his feet and plucked the can straight from Ilay's hand with pure delight.

Ilay let out a low chuckle at Taeui’s excitement.

Loosening the tie around his neck, he took a seat at the dining table and glanced at the half-finished meal in front of Taeui.

"What are you eating?" he asked absentmindedly, though he wasn't really expecting an answer. He casually patted his thigh once, then crooked his index finger at Taeui. "Come here. I need a proper greeting, too."

"You really do act like a sugar daddy, ahjussi," Taeui mocked.

Even so, he walked over without much protest and settled onto Ilay's lap. Leaning in, he brushed a quick kiss against his lips before pulling away again.

“Aha. Call me that one more time,” Ilay said with a faint smile that lingered just enough to reach his eyes, narrowing them. “And I'll make sure that noisy mouth of yours can't utter another word for the rest of the night, kid.”

“Oh, I'm so scared.” Taeui pulled an exaggerated face of terror. “Besides, you're awfully sensitive about your age, aren't you…” He let the last word linger with deliberate emphasis. “Ah-juss-i.”

As Ilay's arms slipped around him, Taeui leaned in to steal another quick kiss before drawing back with a grin.

“Maybe you should write your will soon. Make sure I get all your money when you die.”

“You felt like dying just seeing me with another woman,” Ilay replied without missing a beat. “Imagine not seeing me forever.”

That earned him a sharp elbow to the stomach, followed by another burst of laughter.