Donghae fell asleep an hour after their reunion. He didn't say anything—only allowed him to wept silently while his hand was soothing his graying hair.  

Once, he had a delirious fit, writhing and sweating profusely in his sleep. Masatomo and Jiyuu were quick to act and call the nurse, while he stood still in shocked silence. A flicker of fear ignited in the pit of his belly until it grew into a wildfire, spreading all over his insides. The reality that Donghae was dying loomed over him, and it clawed around his neck like a chain, suffocating him. His knees buckled and he almost crawled towards the bathroom where he heaved and gagged, emptying his already empty stomach.

He could hear the muffled voices of the nurses and doctor outside while he cried and rocked himself back and forth in an attempt to calm down. He couldn't bear to see it—he couldn't see Donghae suffering.

"Will you stay?" 

Hyukjae nodded, his grip on Donghae's hand tightening.

"Will you see me through despite everything?" Donghae tugged back.

Hyukjae's heart sank. He didn't want to think of it, but he said, "Yes. Despite everything, yes."

Remembering his promise to Donghae, Hyukjae dragged himself out of the bathroom and reclaimed his spot at Donghae's side, combing his thinning hair, wiping the cold sweats on his forehead, and whispering consoling words to him regardless if he heard them or not. The fit ended, and Donghae fell back to sleep.

Hyukjae found himself in the chapel, only because he wanted to retreat into somewhere quiet. The chapel was the only place where nobody else was around. Donghae was fading in and out of his consciousness.Hyukjae didn't believe in God, so he didn't pray. But as he watched Donghae finally sound asleep, he found himself praying silently with all his heart. Dear God, please—one more day.

Hyukjae and Donghae often had arguments about their religious beliefs. Donghae was a devout Christian, always making sure he was following the path his God had paved for him. As for Hyukjae, he couldn't care less about religion. If there really is a being higher than men, then he had asserted his superiority well. 

"People believe you're merciful, but I'd rather say you're heartless," Hyukjae said, staring back at the man nailed at the cross. "How could you? He believes in you with all his heart, but how could you do this to him?"

Assured that no one was around, Hyukjae allowed himself to cry without inhibitions. 

"We argued a lot about you, you know?" He shook with every word. Tears forming little puddles on the chapel floor, shoulders convulsing, and his voice coming out wounded and strained. "If it's true what they say that you're all knowing and all seeing, then you must know. Is this your way of retaliating against him? Because he married a man? Or is this you mocking me for refusing to believe in you? What would you have me do so you'd spare us, huh? If you want me to kneel, then I will." He knelt. "If you want me to close my eyes, clasp my hands together, then so be it." He closed his eyes shut and clasped his hands together. "If you want me to beg for mercy, then this is me begging," he pleaded, his voice becoming softer by the minute. "Please, not Donghae."

He was engulfed with silence. He felt silly projecting his anger towards a being he didn't believe to exist. 

"Do you believe in God?"

Hyukjae looked back, and he saw Masatomo sitting beside him. He didn't notice him walk in.

He sat back, wiping his tears. "No," he replied.

"Me neither. But it's funny how desperation can make you cling to something supernatural… superstitious."

Masatomo looked like a specter under the dim lights of the chapel. Even his age did not cover up his effeminate beauty that would look out of place in any other man. It was hard to believe that this man used to join street brawls and was a regular in detention centers. In pictures, Masatomo always appeared uninterested, detached, and cold. But as Hyukjae sat beside him, he realized that the silence between them wasn't uncomfortable nor painful. There's a whiff of mildness about him that could hush a person in distress. He didn't say anything, just sat beside him—a quiet, placating presence. Now, Hyukjae understood why Donghae married him. He could vividly imagine how Masatomo could anchor down a footloose Donghae. 

"What am I to you?" Hyukjae asked out of the blue.

Without batting an eyelash, Donghae replied, "You're like music. Can you imagine a world without music?" he added, flashing his boyish grin.

Hyukjae bitterly smiled at the flashback. If he was music to Donghae, Masatomo was his sedative. He alleviated the pain he'd left Donghae with. It broke his heart thinking of Donghae loving someone else.

"He doesn't love me."

Hyukjae whipped his head towards Masatomo, surprised at how his remark answered his question.

"It was me who convinced him to marry. But there was no love between us," he paused, considering. "Well, there was, but not that kind of love." 

Masatomo looked at him, expecting him to understand. Hyukjae perfectly understood. It was why his ex-wife left him. 

"If you're wondering why he agreed to marry me, contrary to his religious beliefs, it's because he didn't want to marry a woman when he couldn't deny nor sate his attraction towards men. 'It felt like cheating,' he said. That's where you two differ."

The comment was a jab to his heart. There was a long silence between them before Masatomo continued. "He dated women when you got married. But Donghae, being too honest for his own good, couldn't lie about himself. When he felt like the relationship was going good and steady, when he'd feel confident that the other person would understand his uality, he would tell them. It only left him brokenhearted, of course."

Masatomo looked him straight in the eyes, his black pupils piercing through his defenses, his single question tearing down his facade he had on for  most of his life. "What woman would want a man not completely hers?"

"If your ex-wife knew about your uality, she wouldn't have married you," Masatomo said without any hesitation, and Hyukjae could only take the blow despite how painful it was because it was the truth.

"That's how superficial and conventional some people are. They think loving is the same as possessing—owning. They think true love could only be declared in a grandiose way. That makes them blind to the kind of love that manifests itself through humility and vulnerability—the kind Donghae knows best. The love that quietly says, 'I'm not perfect, I'm flawed, but I'm bearing my soul to you because I trust you and I want to devote myself to you if you allow me.'"

There was something lodged on Hyukjae's throat that hindered him from speaking. But he knew what Masatomo was talking about—he was familiar with that kind of love because he was the first to turn it down. If Donghae couldn't lie about his uality, Hyukjae buried it alive, shamelessly marrying someone he didn't love to cover up his crime. In the end, he only thought of himself. He was stuck in his endless loop of fear for disapproval, while Donghae was wearing his heart on his sleeve.

If he weren't so stuck with himself, if