Chapter 11

For the entirety of the day left, Donghae had spent it with Hyukjae. He told him that it was actually March 14th and Hyukjae made the connection fairly quickly, that it was actually their third month being married. Then, in the next second, Donghae could only offer a smile, his heart clenching when the arms around him were gone and Hyukjae stood a bit further, scratching his nape while staring at the floor. Obvious to those who knew what had been going on in the past month, the remembrance, despite not of all things, was a setback to their repairing relationship. I’m nineteen Hyukjae was a stark difference from the one in front of him now. Donghae could not deny the fact that the comfort he had coursing through his bones while he was with his I’m nineteen husband was thinning as Hyukjae kept a distance between them as they sat.

Ignoring the ache pulsing inside his chest, Donghae gave Hyukjae the gifts he brought without saying any word, no wishes, and no kisses. He had a feeling they would be slightly uncalled for. In spite the straining atmosphere, his husband laughed good-naturedly at the recipe books, saying he did not get why Donghae bought it for him since he was already good at cooking, yet, he appreciated the thoughts and how it linked to him. In a way, the gift made sense. Then, there was the magazine. Donghae had bookmarked the pages about their marriage.

“I’ve read this before, right when it came out,” said Hyukjae, a prominent smile visible on every feature of his. 

Donghae perked up, the corners of his lips instantly turning up, “Really? I knew about it, but never when to the extent of buying it.”

Hyukjae chuckled, “Here,” he turned and grabbed an identical magazine from a neat stack placed on the coffee table next to him, “I bought it so I could read about… you.” When Donghae looked at him, Hyukjae’s eyes were on the page where it featured them in their wedding suits, his fingers lightly grazing the picture taken at the wedding. There was a sense of longing in the way he caressed the page and Donghae saw it as clear as day, wondering how he could be so blind not to notice it before.

Hyukjae, at his rightful age, was still not aware of the fact that Donghae knew of his love for him. It was an injustice, Donghae realized, to keep his husband in the dark about it. Won’t it be best that way, though? Once he remembers everything, he will appreciate never having told me that he loves me. It was no time for his own feelings, Donghae decided. He had no room for his own hazardous thoughts and guilt. The guilt would still eat him from the inside, but no one else needed to know that. Right now, all that matter was making Hyukjae felt love, by the one he had loved, to the greatest extent.

Coming to his senses and knowing what would be the right thing to do, Donghae’s hand grasped Hyukjae’s lightly, causing the latter to look up from the picture and direct into his eyes. He searched the dark brown orbs for any disdain, before he spread his fingers apart and let the gaps be filled by Hyukjae’s. The uncertainty in the eyes of his husband dissipated gradually as he thumbed the back of Hyukjae’s hand. Sensing an approval, Donghae let his free hand gently raked into Hyukjae’s hair as he scooted closer, resting his forehead against the other’s. He stared into the dark brown eyes for a moment before Donghae shut his eyes, letting his lips parted slightly. He would not force it; everything was entirely up to Hyukjae if he wished to proceed. He did not know how much time had passed when he felt a wary hand on his waist, and then his numbed lips were captured. 

It was a tentative kiss, testing, trying, exploring. The way Hyukjae’s lips slid against his, moist and plush, it was delirious. This Hyukjae was definitely a better kisser than I’m nineteen Hyukjae, Donghae had to admit, but it might be because of the experience he got while reverting to the mind of a nineteen years old. It did not matter. What did matter was the reassurance Hyukjae was getting. The shield which erupted after Donghae told him it was their third monthsary dispersed and, untangling their hands, Hyukjae wrapped both his arms around Donghae’s waist, tugging him closer. The magazine slipping down his lap was not acknowledged even one bit. 

When they pulled back, smiles and tears glistened in their eyes as they gazed into each other. No words needed, just one look and everything settled into place for them.

Not surprisingly, the first thing Hyukjae offered to do was to cook them both lunch, and it marked the beginning of another chapter for them. They ate, enjoying the company of each other much like they did before everything started crumbling down, might be even better. The grin on Donghae’s face was starting to hurt his cheek, but it did not matter. After lunch, Hyukjae told him to get away from the kitchen, or, he would not give Donghae a monthsary gift. Honestly, Donghae did not care about any present as long as Hyukjae was right in front him, the gift being Hyukjae himself. But, Hyukjae took his hand and dragged him out of the area, leaving Donghae in front of the piano with a warning to not step into the kitchen until he said so.

Left to his own devices for more than an hour, Donghae was surprised when he was blindfolded suddenly. “Hyukjae?” he called out and the only answer he got was a hand slipping into his and pulling him up from the couch, the television he was watching switched off. Knowing that it was indeed his husband’s gentle yet course hand, Donghae let a smile linger on his face as he was guided. He heard the light scrape of chairs against the floor, his hand released. Then, he felt a light pressure on his shoulders, making him sit. He knew he was in the dining area and his hands wandered on the table, searching for something meant for him, only for them to get hit, “Ow!”

“No,” Hyukjae chastised him. 

Donghae felt himself pouting and he glared from behind the blindfold.

“Open your mouth wide.” 

He obliged willingly, anything for his husband. His tongue first felt the metal taste of spoon before he clamped his teeth and took whatever it was Hyukjae offered into his mouth. When the spoon was removed from his mouth, Donghae his lips. The cool and melting confection in his mouth tasted familiar. He was sure the bittersweet taste came from caramel while the sour yet sweet taste came from some sort of panna cotta. He opened his mouth again, hoping for another bite. The second time he got to taste it, Donghae’s eyes widened and he pulled off the blindfold; caramel glazed tiramisu. He remembered having it before, months before, before-he-even-met-Hyukjae before. But the dessert tasted very similar, nothing was lacking, nothing was more. It was the same perfect art he had indulged himself with. He turned to Hyukjae who seemed to have been staring at him for a long time with an affectionate smile.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to make you that again.”

“Again?”

Hyukjae nodded, “You gave me something that reminded me of our wedding, so I gave you something that would remind you of a time much before that.”

Something in him clicked, “You were that chef that complimented me with a dessert.” The nod Hyukjae gave with still a broad smile gracing his lips were not necessary as Donghae was not asking, he was digesting the fact. Even before they were married, before they officially met, Hyukjae had been nice to him, had treated him so kindly. What did he do to deserve such a love? Once again, his heart felt constricted. He knew he was undeserved of it all, of the love Hyukjae had for him, of the kindness he was given. He was hungry for them all but Donghae realized he did not deserve Hyukjae. Not after what he knew he did, the pain he put Hyukjae through, the truce he had broken – deliberately or not, it did not matter. 

For the first time, with eyes unblinkingly staring into Hyukjae’s, Donghae let his whole guard down and let himself be vulnerable in front of his husband. Never once had he let Hyukjae see his tears, or anyone for that matter in more than a decade long. But at that instance, he was not strong enough to hold them in by himself and wait for the time he would be alone. His chest was heaving and the heart beating behind his ribcage was painful. The sobs left him sparingly, his entire body jerking. His vision was blurry, thus, when Hyukjae’s smile turned into a concern frown, he did not notice. Donghae grabbed Hyukjae’s hand that dropped the teaspoon he was holding. Placing the hand flat on the table, Donghae shut his eyes and rested his forehead against the back of the hand, he hiccupped a few times before finally words left his mouth, “I’m sorry.”

Hyukjae said something but it sounded muffled in Donghae’s ears. His eyes were still burning and the hiccups still raked his entire being, “I’m sorry. I don’t deserve you. I treated you harshly, I never looked twice at you. I don’t deserve you.” He finally looked up when he felt a hand caressing his head.

“Donghae, look at me,” Hyukjae continued to run his hand over Donghae’s hair, “It’s okay. I can understand why you acted the way you did. I was someone you never knew, suddenly barging into your life,” a warm smile spread over his lips, the fondness in his voice hard to ignore, “I was a stranger. I can forgive you, I already have. You deserve me as long as I want you to have me.” He stood up, and with Donghae’s hand still gripping his, Hyukjae pulled him up and right into his arms. He kissed Donghae’s temple before he wrapped him tightly, letting himself be gripped as if he was a lifeline.

Even with those words, Donghae still would not let himself hope that he might have a chance to redeem himself. To hope for something as wishful as that, he would be considered a fool, and ungrateful. Yet, he let himself drown in the care he believed he would lose one day, let himself sunk deep into the love he himself professed he did not deserve. Donghae held on to Hyukjae as if his life depended on it, and to him, it really did.

The sobs died down and Donghae closed his eyes, letting the last few trembles left him as he hid his face against the crook of Hyukjae’s neck.

“Maybe I shouldn’t make the tiramisu ever again,” Hyukjae said in a light tone.

Stepping back, Donghae shook his head. He knew it was just to , but he was too raw, too opened to not be faltered by it, and thus, franticly he blurted out, “No. Make more of it. Make it every day. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, supper. I will never get tired of it.”

“But I will. Do you know how much effort it takes to make one? So,” Hyukjae wiped the half-dried tears from Donghae’s cheeks, the warm smile still beautifully etched on his face, “Finish that, and then I’ll consider making them again.”

Donghae offered him his tentative one, not even sure how to stretch his lips the right way in that moment, “I was planning to.” They sat down, and picking up the spoon, they took turn having bites of it.

Everything felt even more light-hearted ever since then. They did not banter as much as when Hyukjae still had the mentality of a nineteen years old, though, he gave Donghae weird looks at times, mostly when Donghae hung up his coat or threw them into the laundry basket, or sometimes when he went into the bathroom after Donghae to find the items in order. He actually walked out of the bathroom the first time it happened and lifted a questioning brow at Donghae. 

“You’ve changed.” It was not an inquiry; rather, it was a realization.

It dawned on Donghae that I’m nineteen Hyukjae would not have noticed those altered habits, not remembering how he was before. But, of course, his husband would catch them, after being the one forced to face all the bad traits, even to the extent of cleaning up after him. Donghae was already embarrassed about it, thus, he only grinned and shrugged, hiding the fact that Hyukjae was the cause of the transition.

Hyukjae narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing him, before giving a look of approval, shutting the door after that.

Everything else went per usual. Donghae would wake up first, always grateful to find Hyukjae by his side, and clean himself up. Hyukjae would not be in bed when he was done in the bathroom, preparing breakfast for him downstairs – though, first day it happened, Donghae was shaken and frantically searched for his husband. The sight of Hyukjae setting up the table made him released a sigh of relief. Hyukjae saw him, but averted his gaze after his eyes lingered on Donghae for a moment too long, his lips parted. Donghae remembered he only had a towel wrapped around his waist, he always seemed to forget putting on clothes when panicking.

“Why don’t you put on some clothes before taking breakfast, Hae? No offense, but I want food for morning, not you.” Hyukjae gasped after that, clamping his mouth with both his hands, looking mortified, “Oh my, where did I learn to say things like that?” His husband might have thought Donghae could not comprehend his muffled words, but he did.

Not one to feel embarrassed about his physics, Donghae chuckled and went back up the stairs, only to sneak behind the wall and said, “Would you like to have me for dinner, then?” He stayed long enough to watch the heat rising up from Hyukjae’s neck to his face, his ears red. He looked extremely delectable, especially with his bed hair. 

Climbing up, he heard Hyukjae yelled, “You! You taught me to say things like that!” It was a great start for the day. 

Most things went by as they did before. Donghae would leave the house for a while, Hyukjae sending him to the door, but come home as soon as he could. Lunch and dinner were both prepared by his husband every time he got home. Donghae liked that word; home. He liked the feeling of coming home, to Hyukjae. No day passed by without him standing at the door with a genuine smile, anticipating his husband’s greeting.

That lasted for three days. 

On Friday, when he came home mid-day, he found Hyukjae sitting at the piano, playing a familiar song. His husband was humming to the tune, clearly had not notice Donghae slipping into the house.   He walked closer until he was right behind Hyukjae. That was when he figured what song was being played flawlessly by his husband who claimed he did not know how to play.

“You practiced it in three days?”

Hyukjae swerved around, his eyes wide while his hand up and down his chest, and bellowed, “You enjoy shocking me, don’t you?

“Not as much as you love slipping in between me and things. And, that’s the song I played for you before.”

Hyukjae nodded, “I know. I didn’t practice playing it, though. Not once. I was bored while waiting for you, so, I sat here. I was thinking about you playing it and tried to remember where you placed your hands. Then, testing the key, I got carried away and I just played what I remember.”

Donghae tilted his head, knowing there must be an explanation. He made a mental note to ask his consultant about it when he had the time. He shrugged, turned to head for the dining area, but halted when a hand grasp his wrist. He looked at Hyukjae with a questioning brow up.

“I… I want to start working again soon.”

Donghae did not know how he had never thought of it. It never crossed his mind that Hyukjae would want to go to work after regaining his memory. He was too used to having his husband at home, being his home. He remembered those days when he would come back to an empty house, void of any person, any emotions, just food prepared for him. It did not bother him back then, but after a little over a month, it started to grate his heart. The house felt eerily quiet, lifeless. Eating dinner alone, with only the sound of utensils clinking against the plate echoing; it never felt like a home, just a place for him to rest. He did not know if he could cope with it.

He did realize that he could not lock Hyukjae inside the house forever. Looking at his husband, Donghae attempted to understand him. Obviously, it was lonely and boring to be sitting at home, with very limited things to do. Hyukjae could not just keep cooking, cooking and cooking; it could be very stressful too. Not to mention that someone could get depression if he or she felt boredom at a certain level – thank you, Mr. Consultant for all the fun facts. It was fathomable why Hyukjae wanted to get back to work and Donghae, unwillingly but, would not act on his selfish thoughts and stop him.

“How soon?”

“Monday. I called mom to ask her about it. She was reluctant but said yes in the end. She will tell the other chefs about it so they anticipate me. But, she lectured me about not telling her immediately that I am back to acting like an actual twenty-seven. She is mad at both of us, not just me, you too,” said Hyukjae, his head nodding as he stared into Donghae’s eyes, not being convincing at all about the last part.

“Yeah, right,” Donghae chuckled, despite the turmoil in him, as they both headed for the kitchen.

They went grocery shopping the next day, Hyukjae insisted. He did not like how barren his fridge seemed to be after he cleared out the no longer edible vegetables and expired milk. Thus, he planned to re-stock the entire pantry again – perks of having a chef as a husband. The trip to the mart was not as eventful as their first time together there, but it was pleasantly memorable. Hyukjae did not let Donghae push the trolley, reminding him about the accident before.

Sulking, Donghae just stuck by his side, his arms crossed on his chest. While looking at the things on the shelves, his hand was pulled and Hyukjae made him grip the trolley’s handle. He was about to tug it back, but then, Hyukjae looped his arm with Donghae’s, placing his palm on top his hand, both keeping Donghae from tugging his hand away and making his skin felt tingly. Donghae liked it when Hyukjae gripped his arm whenever his husband reached up to take something.

On their way home, Hyukjae made him stopped by a patisserie.

“What cake do you want?” Hyukjae inquired after he unfastened his seatbelt, ready to get off.

“Anything. Your choice.”

“That’s no fun. Tell me.”

“I really have no preference. Besides, I may not trust your fashion sense, but I believe your choice when it comes to food,” tilting his head, Donghae grinned wide, his eyes squinting. He watched as Hyukjae glared at him as he got out of the car. As the smile still lingered on his face, he kept his eyes on his husband while Hyukjae crossed the road to get to the patisserie. 

Drumming his fingers against the steering, Donghae hummed to a song. Suddenly reminded of the mental note he made, he grabbed his phone and sent a text on Hyukjae to his consultant. When he turned to locate where Hyukjae was, he saw his husband on the other side of the road, waiting to cross it, a paper bag on one hand while his other hand was holding his phone at his ear. Donghae blinked once.

“Dad?” 

He blinked again, shaking his head slightly, and there stood Hyukjae among other few people. He clenched his eyes tight, ridding himself the image from all those years back. Donghae’s heartbeat was getting a hectic by every second, yet he did not know why. He fixed his eyes on Hyukjae who was talking to his phone, no distress evidence, a contrast to what was coursing in him. The road was cleared and the light turned green for the pedestrian. Hyukjae was the last to start walking. He did not know what prompted him to, but, Donghae turned his head slightly and he noticed a car which was parked a few stores away from the patisserie hastily drove out of the space. 

He could not think of anything else. Everything went silent around him. Donghae remembered that he crawled out of his car but his screamed for Hyukjae sounded muffled to his own ears. He might have shouted ‘dad’ but his thoughts were fuzzy. All he wanted was to get to Hyukjae. But, he never reached him. He was frozen in the middle of the road, his sight blurred. Then, a pair of arms wrapped around him and pushed him backwards. No sound was coming out from him even as a tear slid down his face, all the while his eyes wide but unseeing.

"Donghae? Hae, I’m okay. Follow me, follow my breathing. We’re alright, you’re alright. One, two."

It took him a while, but, those words finally penetrated through his panic attack and Donghae let out breath of relief, shutting his eyes and letting another tear free, “I’m sorry.” He was still heaving, albeit slower and following the pattern of breathing he felt Hyukjae was going, his hand on his husband’s chest.

Hyukjae tugged him into his arms when Donghae’s eyes drooped, staring at the pavement, “Hae, thank God! It’s not your fault. It never was. I’m fine.” Hyukjae shushed him softly, his hand caressing Donghae’s spine as another wave sobs left him. He peppered him with kisses, his own fear of losing Donghae and evidence that he was shaken just as much as the other was clear.

Hyukjae was saved by Inspector Kim Youngwoon from the Violent Crimes Unit, Donghae was told once things were calmer. The inspector and his partner, Kim Heechul, had just started their shift on guarding Hyukjae. Fortunately, the two of them had managed to get everyone out of the car’s way. Yet, they failed to catch the culprit who they were sure was aiming straight for Hyukjae, others on the road was just liability. Hyukjae drove them back home that day as Donghae was too distraught and exhausted, his hand limply gripping Hyukjae forearm. 

Donghae wanted to slap himself for down all the comfort but too weak to offer them back. For God’s sake, Hyukjae was the one who was almost ran over and yet, he was the one being pampered and not the other way around. He was a parasite, he thought as he mulled over the moment later that night with Hyukjae barely an inch away from him, hands in each other’s.

It scared him to lose Hyukjae, it shook his entire bone and until his core. The thought haunted him. And as natural as breathing, one thought led to another. What if he was to lose Hyukjae? What if the inspectors were not there? What if he had to watch his husband die with his own eyes? And what if Hyukjae died, without knowing the truth, without knowing what Donghae had done to him? What if Hyukjae died and the only thing he left for Donghae was an undying guilt?

The thoughts were eating him up from inside. They never left his head and as time passed, they fed his guilt, making it unbearable. He was scared, haunted day and night. Despite it all, the struggles, the pain, he never showed the whirlwind inside of him in front of Hyukjae, not after that one time. He did not deserve to be comforted.

When Monday came, Donghae insisted on sending Hyukjae and picking him up at one in the morning when he finished work. As much as he could, he did not want Hyukjae out of his sight. Besides, he still did not think it was time for Hyukjae to get into his own car with no one knew what sort of trigger it could be.

“Donghae, are you alright?” Hyukjae asked when they arrived at the restaurant. 

Sighing as he stared at his husband with his fear shown in his eyes, Donghae said, “I am, Hyukjae. But, you need to let me do this for you.” It bothered him how selfish he was, how he was always doing things under the fake appearance that they were all for Hyukjae when in actuality, they were for him, to help make him feel better, to make it easier to breathe under the constant fear running down his back. It was true, he was a parasite, only taking, taking and taking.

“Alright. Your dinner is in the fridge, as usual. Bye, Hae,” Hyukjae kissed him before he got out of the car and Donghae only left after he saw his husband entered the building.

That was how things went by for a little over a week. Donghae sent Hyukjae to work at 4pm and then picked him past midnight. It was another thing added to their house routine. Gradually, Donghae did get better, physically and mentally. Unlike the first few days, he went on and left the house to go check on his gallery. He started to smile more, he played the piano for Hyukjae again, and he did not keep staring at Hyukjae as if afraid his husband would disappear if he as much as blink an eye. They talked more, they had lunch together, kisses were passed and they were closer than ever – Donghae almost believe it would all turn great in the end… almost.

After sending Hyukjae off on the next Monday, he went to meet his consultant to personally ask about his husband, of the fact that Hyukjae could do something without ever learning to. He was told that such symptom was common when nerves were disturbed. Patients would sometimes gain ability to do something they never could before; on the other hand, they might also lose or could not remember a skill that they had once mastered. After accidents that caused brain damage, they were incidence where patients woke up and spoke a language they had never learned before fluently as if it was their native language. Thus, Hyukjae’s condition was not something that should be overly concerned about, and the ability might only last until he regained his full memory.

The information made Donghae felt better, but inside, he was still very much in pain. Nothing could soothe his inner thoughts, the ‘what ifs’ getting wilder. At the end of each day, the same thought that would swirl around his mind was ‘what if Hyukjae remembered everything before he had the chance to tell him?’ His conscience would always then tell him to take the chance and be the one to let the truth out first. Yet, he could not bring himself to do it.

On the last day of the month, a Thursday, Donghae sent Hyukjae to the restaurant as usual. Hyukjae kissed him as he smiled but did not get off the car right away.

“Don’t pick me up tonight, okay?”

The smile faded away, the irrational fear that Hyukjae hated him crippling his heart, “Why?”

The thought was soothed away when his husband stared him in the eye while palming his cheek, “Hae, just take a rest, okay? Sleep. Those dark circles under your eyes need to go, alright? I don’t like seeing you like this. I have soup – it is still on the stove. Eat that and just take the rest of the day off.”

“Then, what about you?”

“I’ll have Myungsoo send me home.”

Donghae reluctantly agreed, pulling a smile for Hyukjae. As he drove away and headed home, though, his thought wandered to something else he could do. Something he usually did to release his stress, something he took to make him feel at ease, even just for a moment. His husband would not be home tonight, not before him. Making a decision and promising himself to come home before 12am, Donghae went home, took a shower and left again, the soup on the stove untouched.

**

Hyukjae was greeted well on his first day back by all the other staffs. They professed how glad they were to see him fine and healthy enough to come back to work. Myungsoo was ecstatic.

“If only Chef Yikyung is not vacationing with his wife, he will be just as happy as I am.”

“I doubt he will hug me like you did, Myung-ah. And you should be glad my husband’s not here to see that. He is the jealous type,” Hyukjae smirked, trying to get back into the mood of dealing with services and with the other chefs. He missed the doubtful stare Myungsoo quickly blinked away from his face.

He acted as if he was at ease, but, he was worried about his husband’s condition. Donghae had seemed to be very affected by his near-death incident. It was not until a week later, when Donghae started being his usual self more, that he could finally feel calmer and not think of him too much as he worked. Yet, the feelings would never dissipate all away, with him being as observant as he had always been. He knew something was going inside his husband’s head, knew there was something more behind his panic attack. He could not put a finger on it, but that something was lingering right there, in front of him but just out of his reach. 

Hyukjae could not ignore the obvious signs of exhaustion anymore, could not look at his husband without feeling a great deal of pain himself. Donghae was tired, he was clearly suffocating and he was going to make himself sick if he continued. That was why Hyukjae told him to have a rest, hoping that he would listen to him.

Sighing as he watched Donghae drove away, Hyukjae walked to the restaurant’s main door only to find it locked. The closed sign was displayed, puzzling him as it was not Tuesday, the only day where the shop would be closed. He contacted his mother, asking her about it. 

“It’s cleaning day, Hyuk-ah. Every end of the month, there will be a cleaning day. I don’t blame you for not remembering. The back door is open if you want to look at that servicer.”

“Since I’m already here, I’ll go check on their work for a while before leaving. Thanks, mom.” Shaking his head, he went around the restaurant to get to the door. He watched them for a while, the ones cleaning the kitchen area, before he contacted a taxi to fetch him. He was not going to bother his husband after telling him to take a rest. 

He was home before six and the first thing he noticed was the fact that Donghae’s car was nowhere near the house. Thinking his husband was being his usual stubborn self, Hyukjae sighed and changed into comfortable clothes. He would wait for Donghae and planned on feeding the soup into his husband’s mouth himself while nagging at him. Hyukjae did not like how he sounded like a typical housewife but, it did not matter because every minute that ticked by without the Donghae’s present made him grew restless. His heart was not frantic yet his uneven heartbeats were giving him bad feelings.

When it was 8pm, Hyukjae called Donghae. It was not answered. He sent a text next, hoping to get a reply. Zilch. He lost count of the amount of missed call he had left on Donghae’s phone – he did not care! – until he fell asleep on the couch, the TV watching him instead of the other way around. A few times he was jolted up by alarms he set up, only to be disappointed. When he woke up at 11pm, he decided to sit up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with his knuckles and try his best not to fall asleep again. He did not have to wait long after that.

His worries turned to anger, Hyukjae swung the front door open. He was very not happy when he came face to face with his husband but the feeling morphed into confusion as he noticed how Donghae walked funny, swaying slightly.

He was aiming for angry but it came out as concerned with exasperation, “Where have you been?”

Donghae stopped just a couple feet away from him, his eyes squinting and he seemed to have a hard time focusing, “Hyukjae?” his hand reached out to grab the door’s frame. Donghae giggled.

Drunk.

Donghae was drunk. Hyukjae was speechless for a moment. He asked the other to have a rest, but he came home drunk? 

“Donghae, why ar – ” He did not have a chance to finish his question as Donghae latched himself to him, making Hyukjae stumbled back a few steps. He wrapped an arm around his husband to keep him from falling. Then, his lips were captured without any warning. Hyukjae’s eyes widened at the bitter taste of alcohol and he pulled back, just long enough to kick the door closed before Donghae once again kissed him. Hyukjae would not say the kiss was bad – hell, it was arousing and making him cursed in his head! Donghae was aggressive, though, Hyukjae had to blindly back up, or maybe it was because Donghae almost all the time gave him the upper hand. Anyway, Hyukjae felt intoxicated by it.

Suddenly, the back of his legs hit the couch and Hyukjae gasped as he fell onto it, bringing Donghae on top of him. He had only a couple seconds before his husband’s lips were on him again. Hyukjae could only try to keep up with the pace. Donghae was grinding against him and he raked his fingers into the black hair, his own brown locks splayed out on the couch and he could feel the sweat drenching them. It was heated, very much so, but then a drop of something else dripped onto his face out of nowhere in the middle of the kiss. He opened his eyes, which he himself was not sure when he had shut, and pulled back slightly. All movements stopped right then. 

Despite his closed eyes, tears leaked through Donghae’s lids. When the brown orbs finally cracked opened enough for Hyukjae to look at, he felt the pain behind them. Two words left his husband’s lips, “I’m sorry.”

His brows creased, Hyukjae wiped the tears and sweats on Donghae’s face with one hand as his right arm was still wrapped securely around Donghae’s waist. He smiled, albeit slightly forceful, trying in any way to make it easier his husband to say anything, “What are you sorry for?” It crossed him that he might be taking advantage of his husband drunken state.

Instead of straight away answering, Donghae dropped his head onto Hyukjae’s shoulder. Hyukjae waited, his hand still carding through the other’s hair. It took a while, but then Donghae finally said, his words muffled yet still comprehendible, “I’m sorry. I treated you badly, I wronged you, I cheated on you and I lied. I’m sorry I lied.”

Cheated? He cheated on me while he was out drinking just now? Hyukjae felt the sense of betrayal first, his arms slagging at the thought. Then, he felt his brain short-circuited and the limp arm around Donghae’s waist tightened instinctively yet his eyes looked up at the ceiling, a light of remembrance shining in them. He could still feel the hot tears soaking his shirt at the shoulder, could still hear the sobs, and feel it leaving Donghae’s body. He knew then… he knew.

Has it been a month yet? Almost? I’m sorry. I had a minor case of writer’s block. I planned to update this on Hyukjae’s birthday but I couldn’t get it done. Original plan was not to end it there but it’s 4AM AND I HAVE SCHOOL UNTIL 5PM TODAY. Anyway, onwardS to important news. This story will having either 14/15 chapters, depending on how much I ended up typing. So, it’s not long before we get to the end of this. (But it also depends on the time I have since I have my mid-year exam in two weeks) Things are just about to go down, down, down. But, I have something that will hopefully lift things up a little; I posted a new story on Hyukjae’s birthday which I will start updating after this story is done. You can check it out if you want to /winks/

P.s. How do you feel for Donghae at the moment?
P.p.s. Can you detect my writer’s block or does the chapter feels usual?
P.p.p.s. Tissues are up for grab in the comment box but I’m saving the cookies for next chapter.
P.p.p.p.s. Do comment to help me fight my writer’s block, k?