CHAPTER 37

                                    

                                          
The silence 
It was 2 a.m. The dim light from the bedside lamp cast long shadows against the walls, barely enough to illuminate the figure lying motionless on the bed. Jeonghan was still sleeping, his body limp and fragile beneath the layers of blankets. The doctor's words echoed in Seungcheol's mind: "He's exhausted, his blood pressure's high, and that's why he fainted. He should be awake by morning."
But the sight of Jeonghan lying there, so still, so pale, and so broken, gnawed at Seungcheol in ways he couldn't understand. His lips were a faded shade of pink, void of any warmth, and his skin was cold to the touch. The nurses had cleaned him up, changed him into soft, warm clothes, but the vulnerability on Jeonghan's face, the way his body had given up, made something inside Seungcheol stir. something he hadn't expected to feel.
Seungcheol sat at the edge of the bed, his heart pounding in his chest. His clothes had been changed, the grime of the day's events washed away, but his mind was still racing. This wasn't the first time he'd taken someone against their will. He had done it countless times before, coldly, efficiently, without hesitation. and it will not be the last time either. But with Jeonghan... it was different. Why did it hurt to see him like this? Why was this pain so raw, so unbearable, when he had survived gunshots, betrayals, and countless battles in the world of mafia life?
Is it because Jeonghan is innocent? That thought lingered, taunting him. Jeonghan didn't belong here, in this world of blood and crime. His gentle demeanor, his soft voice, the kindness that seeped through every interaction, it wasn't something Seungcheol was accustomed to.
With a slow, hesitant movement, Seungcheol laid beside him on the bed. He kept a careful distance, but his hand reached out, trembling slightly, before gripping Jeonghan's limp hand. The softness of his skin was almost painful, like a reminder of how fragile this man was, how much he didn't belong in Seungcheol's ruthless world.
His breath was shallow, his heart hammering in his chest, as he stared at Jeonghan's pale face. His emotions churned, a dangerous mix of possessiveness and something darker, something deeper. Jeonghan was his, but in this moment, he was also the one thing Seungcheol couldn't control, couldn't fathom.
The first time I saw him... Seungcheol's mind wandered back to that day, the memory so vivid. Jeonghan had been sitting in front of his parents' grave, tears streaking down his face, vulnerable in a way Seungcheol had never seen before. There had been something so fascinating about that sight—so raw, so human, that it had caught him off guard. But now, seeing him like this, it was different.
Jeonghan wasn't just crying for his parents anymore; he was crying because of Seungcheol. His roots had been shaken to their core. Seungcheol was the cause of it all, the one who had turned Jeonghan's world upside down. And now, with Jeonghan lying unconscious in his bed, broken in a way Seungcheol didn't know how to fix, the weight of his actions crushed down on him.
Could he let Jeonghan go? Could he truly set him free, knowing it was for Jeonghan's happiness? The thought seemed impossible. He couldn't. Jeonghan had become something Seungcheol couldn't understand, something he couldn't name, but he knew he needed him. Desperately.
Jeonghan wasn't just a captive. He wasn't just a pawn. He had become Seungcheol's unknown need, something Seungcheol was too terrified to even admit to himself. The vulnerability that stirred in him was twisted, suffocating, and his mind wrestled with that darker side of him. The side that wanted to hold Jeonghan close, to cage him in, to make him his in ways that went beyond possession. But there was also a part of Seungcheol that felt a sickening ache when he looked at Jeonghan, realizing that he was the one who had caused all of this pain.