Love Born of Pity Chapter 1

“I’m getting married next spring.”

Kwon Jiho’s chopsticks froze mid-air at the words spoken during dinner. He shifted his gaze from the neatly arranged dishes to Do Yeonjae, but the man simply continued eating in silence. Just as Jiho was about to ask what he meant, Yeonjae spoke again.

“Nothing will change. I might be away from home sometimes, but not often.”

“…With whom?”

The question tumbled out of Jiho’s parted lips before he could stop himself, a mere murmur. Do Yeonjae smiled, watching Jiho’s dazed expression.

“Would you even know who it is if I told you?”

“Ah…”

Yeonjae delivered the news of his marriage as casually as if he were stating the obvious, like remarking that summer is hot.

Do Yeonjae quietly set down his chopsticks. Reaching out to the still-dazed Jiho, he elicited an instinctive reaction. Yeonjae gently pulled Jiho closer, lowering his head to feel his forehead. Jiho’s face was flushed, the low-grade fever that had been plaguing him for days still lingering. “Why won’t this fever break?” he murmured. Jiho managed a weak smile.

“You said you went to see your brother. How is he?”

“…Just the same. He seems to have lost more weight since last week… thinner.”

Jiho pictured his brother’s gaunt face with prominent cheekbones and his frail, bony body. He was alive thanks to Yeonjae’s support, but Jiho knew there was no hope of him waking up.

At first, he’d held onto a sliver of hope for a miracle. When Yeonjae had transferred his brother to a better hospital, Jiho often entertained the foolish notion that he might wake up any day. He’d been overjoyed at the thought of being able to continue his brother’s life support without constantly worrying about the cost, even if it meant being indebted to Yeonjae for everything.

The time he’d lacked while working day and night suddenly became abundant after he agreed to be with Yeonjae. He spent that free time visiting temples, cathedrals, and churches, praying anywhere he could. He begged for his brother to just open his eyes. He didn’t want to lose his only family. But no matter how fervently he prayed, his brother showed no signs of waking. Sometimes, Jiho felt like he was watching him die a little more each day.

“I… I don’t know anymore, Mr. Do.”

Will he really wake up? Jiho mumbled dejectedly, straightening up. Yeonjae’s gaze lingered on him. Jiho moved back slightly from between Yeonjae’s legs, holding his gaze.

It was hard to tell what Yeonjae was thinking behind those dark eyes. Then again, when had it ever been easy? Jiho gathered his courage and reached out, lightly brushing Yeonjae’s eyelid before retracting his hand.

“Can I… kiss you?”

As Yeonjae’s gaze shifted from his eyes to his lips, Jiho asked hesitantly. Yeonjae let out a soft chuckle. Come here. This time, Jiho closed the distance he had created, stepping back between Yeonjae’s legs and lowering his head. Their lips met instantly.

As if waiting for the opening, Yeonjae’s tongue delved inside, scraping against the roof of Jiho’s mouth. Unbidden thoughts chased each other through Jiho’s mind.

If he gets married, will things really not change? Does the other person know about me? Does it even matter if they know or not? Even if things are okay now, if Yeonjae really gets married, this relationship can’t continue, can it?

Jiho knew all too well how society viewed married people having relationships with others. Tangled thoughts filled his head.

“Kwon Jiho.”

A string of saliva connected their lips as they parted. Yeonjae brushed his lips lightly against Jiho’s swollen ones a few more times. Despite his cold, almost callous words, his touch was always meltingly tender.

The more accustomed Jiho became to their shared intimacy, the deeper his feelings for Yeonjae grew. From the man who helped him, to the man he was grateful for, to the man who occupied all his thoughts, to the man he had come to love. He’d even entertained the naive thought that Yeonjae might reciprocate his feelings. He hadn’t realized how ridiculous a fantasy it was.

“Shall we go inside?”

Jiho’s shoulders trembled at Yeonjae’s low voice close to his ear. He wrapped his arms around Yeonjae’s neck. Yeonjae effortlessly lifted him into his arms, their lips meeting frequently along the way.

Chu, chuu, chup. 

The sticky sounds and the friction of their wet lips against each other heightened the heat in Jiho’s body. As soon as they reached the bedroom, he was laid on the bed. A slight shiver ran through him as the cool air touched his skin with each layer of clothing discarded.

“…Haah.”

Jiho wanted to ask Yeonjae if things would truly remain unchanged. How could nothing change? But Yeonjae left him no room for such thoughts, pressing their bodies together.

“Don’t think about anything else.”

Even though the wedding wasn’t imminent, just the knowledge that it was happening next spring filled Jiho with a tidal wave of guilt towards the unknown person Yeonjae would marry.

♬⋆.˚

As Do Yeonjae had said, ordinary days continued with seemingly no changes, but the guilt that enveloped Kwon Jiho grew heavier, like clothes slowly becoming soaked in a drizzle.

“Tea…cher.”

“…Yes?”

“If I play this one more time today, how many more times do I need to do it?”

A child with a lisp from a missing front tooth looked up with bright eyes. He held up a short, chubby finger to his forehead as he pleaded, “One more time, one more time!”

“How about two more times?”

The child, who had been dangling his legs from the black piano bench, whined, “Aww…” Kwon Jiho smiled and stroked the back of the child’s head before standing up.

“You have to practice hard to get a sticker.”

“But you give those out even if we just play. Dabin got one, too.”

At the child’s words, a voice from the next room yelled, “Don’t give Eunsol a sticker!” Kwon Jiho chuckled and patted the child’s head again.

“Dabin got one because he worked hard. Now, finish playing properly.”

“Wait a minute! Teacher—”

As Kwon Jiho reached for the door, Eunsol lowered his voice conspiratorially and held his hand up to his lips as if sharing a secret.

“Are you getting married, too, Teacher?”

“…Huh?”

“My dad was wondering. Are you marrying that man? The one with the scary eyes?”

The child furrowed his brows, mimicking a stern expression and pressing his lips together. So that’s how Do Yeonjae appears to children. Kwon Jiho simply smiled, gently pinching Eunsol’s cheek before letting go.

“…Let’s practice now, quickly.”

Watching the child’s small fingers tap on the piano keys, Kwon Jiho left the practice room. He sighed softly and sat down at the table, smiling at a different student who approached with sheet music. As he gently asked where the child was having trouble and began reviewing the music together, the entrance door chimed. 

Clang—

Both the child’s and Kwon Jiho’s gazes turned towards the sound.

“Ah… Welcome.”

A man stood hesitantly in the doorway, his body halfway inside. He was a striking beauty, his features all soft lines.

“Are you here for a consultation? Mihong, I’ll help you with this later, so why don’t you go practice now? Try playing it without the parts you’re struggling with. You can do it, right?”

The child nodded vigorously at the gentle voice. As soon as he’d disappeared into the practice room, Kwon Jiho straightened up.

“Would you like to come inside?”

He led the man to the consultation room. The man smiled and followed, a sweet scent trailing after him like the fragrance of flowers carried on a spring breeze.

“Can I get you some tea?”

“No.”

“How old is your child? You can bring them with you—”

“That’s not why I’m here.”

Kwon Jiho, who had been offering a form and a pen, stopped abruptly at the polite refusal. The man brushed his hair back with a slight smile. A slender, pale hand emerged from his bag, holding something out. The sweet scent wafted again.

“You’re Kwon Jiho, right?”

“…Who…”

“I’m Kang Gyumin. I thought we should meet.”

After introducing himself with just his name and a proffered business card, Kang Gyumin stared intently at Kwon Jiho. He was supposed to be a beta, but he didn’t give off the impression of an average, everyday beta. He had a delicate frame and, though Gyumin hated to admit it, an intriguing appearance that could almost pass for an omega.