Before he knew it, Monday came rolling around. The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm, golden glow across the bus. Outside, the weather was almost too perfect—clear skies stretched endlessly overhead, and a gentle breeze stirred the leaves, carrying with it the crisp, invigorating scent of autumn. The air felt lighter, as if the day itself was nudging him forward, urging him to shake off the weight of the weekend. Birds chirped cheerfully in the distance, their melodies blending into the tranquil hum of a world already in motion.

Despite the idyllic setting, Hajoon’s heart remained heavy, the beautiful day and the hum of the bus’ engine doing little to ease the gnawing feeling inside.

Even worse, the seating arrangement was nothing short of a disaster. Of all the possible outcomes, he never imagined he’d end up next to Samuel. 

How could this have happened? He cursed his luck under his breath. As the saying goes, when God closes a window, he opens a door—though, in this case, it seemed more like he’d slammed both shut.

The moment Hajoon sat down, the overwhelming scent of Samuel’s cologne hit him like a brick wall, sharp and suffocating. It was as if the man had bathed in it, the heavy fragrance stabbing into Hajoon’s nasal passages like daggers. The urge to gag was immediate, and he found himself fighting the reflex, barely managing to breathe through shallow, controlled inhales. Each breath felt like a battle, and for a brief moment, he considered holding it altogether, if only to escape the relentless assault.

Glancing behind him, Hajoon’s gaze settled on Iseul. She was sitting a few rows back, engaged in a light conversation with Taeung. Her face lit up as she smiled at something Taeung said, her laughter soft but sincere. It stung, more than he wanted to admit. Each word she exchanged with Taeung seemed to punch at his chest, wringing his heart dry with every passing second. There was a natural ease between them, a warmth that made Hajoon feel like he was on the outside, looking in on something he wasn’t a part of. The sight made him feel small, and he had to tear his eyes away before the ache became too much to bear.

Samuel, on the other hand, wore a wide, unwavering smile, a picture of smug satisfaction. He knew exactly what he was doing. The slight twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed just how much he was enjoying Hajoon’s discomfort. But this was just the beginning. Samuel had no intention of stopping here—he wanted to push Hajoon further, to break him completely.

The thought of seeing Hajoon’s carefully guarded composure crumble, of watching real tears fill his eyes, thrilled Samuel. But not yet. No, he had to be patient.

Samuel's eyes kept flickering back to the scar on Hajoon's neck, an ugly burn that stood out against his otherwise smooth skin. The jagged edges, rough and discolored, almost dared him to look away, yet he couldn't. The scar was impossible to ignore. 

Was it from a cigarette? The thought made Samuel's mind race. The scar's placement seemed oddly intentional, like a brand left in a moment of cruel intimacy.

As his gaze lingered, a dark, intrusive thought crept in. What if he kissed that scar, let his lips explore the rough texture, testing the heat of the skin beneath? The idea of tasting the burn filled him with a strange, almost primal desire. But it wasn't just about the kiss. No, he wanted to do more… gnaw at that spot, drag his teeth across the marred flesh, leaving his own set of marks. Love bites. Ones that would dot Hajoon's neck, from the scar down to the collarbone, a constellation of possessive bruises.

Would my marks last longer, or fade just as quickly? 

The twisted thought filled him with a rush of adrenaline. He imagined the satisfaction of seeing those fresh marks bloom next to the burn, claiming the same space, wondering if they'd linger longer than the scar itself. The desire to leave his imprint, to carve his presence into Hajoon in a way that couldn't be erased, ate away at him like a hunger that wouldn't be easily sated.

The way Hajoon’s eyes constantly drifted toward Iseul, soft and filled with a quiet yearning, stirred something ugly deep inside Samuel. Those loving, almost pleading glances that Hajoon gave her, completely unnoticed by her, fed into Samuel’s insecurities like fuel to a fire. Each look was a reminder of how insignificant he felt in comparison, how Hajoon’s attention was always focused elsewhere—on someone who didn’t even care to notice. It deepened the void inside Samuel. But at the same time, he hated the fact that right now, he wanted to be acknowledged by Hajoon.

What does she have that I don’t? Samuel thought, his brows knitting together in frustration. His chest thumping with an unexplainable tinge of jealousy.

Feigning a subtle pout, careful not to overdo it, Samuel leaned into Hajoon, his shoulder brushing lightly against the older man’s. Hajoon shot him a puzzled glance, brow raised in silent question. Before he could say anything, Samuel let out a soft, exaggerated whine.

“Sleeping against the window hurts my head,” he murmured, his voice taking on a slight edge of childishness as he tilted his head just enough to invade Hajoon’s personal space. “Let me rest on your shoulder for a while, Hyung.”

Hajoon blinked, caught off guard by the sudden request. The way the word ‘older brother’ rolled off of Samuel’s tongue made Hajoon want to jump off the bus. His body stiffened, unsure how to respond. It was a simple enough favor, but one that put him in a difficult position. He could feel Samuel’s weight settle against him, and the unexpected closeness made it hard to focus on anything else. His occasional glances toward Iseul, which had already been discreet, now became impossible. 

A smile returned on Samuel’s lips once again. He leaned just enough into Hajoon’s shoulder to make his presence undeniable every time Hajoon shifted around. The physical closeness offered Samuel a false sense of warmth, a fleeting comfort. Yet, beneath that surface, it was more than just contact—it was as if he had stolen something intangible from Hajoon; his focus, his sense of ease, his personal space. Each inch between them that disappeared felt like a subtle conquest, a quiet triumph that only Samuel could savor.

Everyone but Hajoon seemed revitalized as they stepped off the bus, stretching their limbs and breathing in the crisp evening air of Paju. The city had a serene charm, with its rolling hills and scattered trees that swayed gently in the night breeze. The streets were quiet, illuminated by the soft glow of streetlights, casting long shadows on the cobblestone paths. In the distance, traditional Korean architecture mixed seamlessly with modern buildings, creating a unique blend of old and new. The surrounding greenery, just touched by the evening fog, gave the town a peaceful atmosphere. The cool air felt refreshing to most, a perfect end to the journey.

But not for Hajoon.

His eyes drooped with exhaustion, dark circles starting to form beneath them. His body felt heavy, and each step off the bus was an effort, his legs unsteady beneath him. While everyone else seemed to be re-energized by the scenic surroundings, Hajoon swayed slightly, his posture barely stable. He could hardly keep his focus as the group began to split off toward their assigned hotel rooms. His mind was foggy, and the excitement of the trip was completely lost on him.

Thankfully, Samuel had left him alone for him to attend to his business in the comfort of his own assigned room.

The group dispersed quickly into the hotel, their voices already fading as they retreated to their rooms. It had grown quite late by the time they arrived, and everyone agreed that sleep was the priority. One by one, they disappeared behind their doors, calling it a night to get ready for tomorrow.

Hajoon lagged behind, dragging his feet toward his room. The hallway stretched out before him, long and quiet, and all he could think about was collapsing onto the bed and letting his fatigue overtake him. 

Though he longed for rest, Hajoon couldn’t bring himself to relax just yet. He felt the need to scrub the memory of Samuel off him. The lingering sensation of Samuel leaning against him, as if marking his territory with every subtle touch, made Hajoon want to tear his own skin off.

Samuel and Taeung entered their hotel room. The space was modest, featuring two neatly made beds on opposite sides, but Taeung barely noticed the surroundings. His face was alight with a mix of exhilaration and disbelief as he plopped down onto one of the beds, unable to contain himself.

“I was talking to Iseul on the bus,” Taeung began, trying to keep his voice casual, though the glimmer in his eyes betrayed his enthusiasm. “She was so… sweet! I mean, we talked about everything—our plans for the trip, what we want to do in Paju… and I swear, I could listen to her laugh all day.”

Samuel barely registered the words, his mind wandering to Hajoon. He absentmindedly flopped onto his bed, staring at the ceiling while Taeung continued, his voice filled with a dreamy quality.

“She even asked about my love for God! Can you believe that? It felt like... like we were really connecting,” Taeung said, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks. “I just kept thinking how amazing it would be to share a meal with her, to see her smile across the table.”

Samuel forced himself to nod, but his thoughts were miles away, lingering on the memory of Hajoon’s weary expression from earlier. The way Hajoon’s shoulders had slumped, the hint of vulnerability in his eyes—it all tugged at Samuel in a way he couldn’t quite shake off. 

“Yeah, that sounds great,” he muttered, barely listening as Taeung rambled on about Iseul’s laughter and the way she had tilted her head when she spoke. The genuine delight in Taeung's voice only served to deepen Samuel's own sense of discontent. 

Or rather, he found himself torn between distraction and a growing sense of dread over what his brother was becoming. Religious groups had always struck him as borderline cults, making it difficult for him to draw a clear line between faith and fanaticism. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that supporting his brother might mean condoning something far darker than devotion.

“I hope Iseul isn’t molding you into one of those insufferable preachers,” Samuel muttered, his brow tense, eyes sharp with suspicion. Taeung’s smile faded, the words cutting deeper than he let on.

“She’s open about religion, yeah,” Taeung said, his voice quieter now, “but we didn’t just talk about that. We talked about Hajoon, too.”

That made Samuel snap upright, his attention hooked. “You saw his face, right?”

Taeung let out a slow breath, shaking his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’ve got this uncanny ability to make people squirm, you know that?” He paused, his gaze softening. “But for once, I hate to say it—I actually agreed with you.”

“So you don’t mind if something might happen between me and Hajoon?” Samuel added.

Taeung’s face froze.

“Kidding.”