Junho’s house was about a twenty-minute walk from Siwoo’s home, yet the boy took more than half an hour to cover this short distance in the suburbs of Seoul. He turned back at least three times before finally arriving at his destination – he was far from certain about what he was doing. Hyunshik’s words had given him a fleeting push, a momentary strength, yet he was still terrified, though even he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what he was afraid of.

Junho had been busy with something in the small garden of his house when the other boy arrived. It took Siwoo a moment to notice that his lover was playing with a tiny but incredibly sweet Pomeranian. He wore a simple sweater and slightly loose black pants, and his dark, wavy hair fell over his face in a way that seemed reserved for only the most beautiful angels. He smiled charmingly at the little dog as it bounced around him energetically.

Siwoo felt like he might faint from the sudden rush of both bliss and panic. He wanted to run, flee from this place as soon as possible, but at that moment, Junho noticed him. His eyes widened in surprise as he turned completely toward Siwoo, shock overtaking his delicate features. Swallowing hard and with trembling limbs, Siwoo stepped closer to the thick wooden fence, and though Junho seemed hesitant, he did the same.

“I…” Siwoo felt a massive, suffocating lump rise in his throat. He could barely hold back his tears; he didn’t understand what was happening to him. “I didn’t know you had a dog,” he finally managed to say, even surprising himself with the words.

Junho smiled faintly and gently looked down at the overly eager puppy running around him. “It’s not mine. The lady from the neighbour left it with us while she’s travelling for the holidays,” he said. He glanced back at Siwoo, whose eyes were brimming with tears, then let out a quiet sigh and walked over to the nearby gate, unlocking it with a simple motion.

Siwoo didn’t move. He felt as if his feet had grown roots. “Junho, I…”

“Come in.” The other boy cut him off gently but firmly.

Siwoo swallowed hard. What else could he do? He felt unbelievably foolish and helpless as he stepped through the burgundy gate and stopped in the middle of the yard. With his head lowered, he silently watched the Pomeranian joyfully barking and bouncing around him.

“He’s still a puppy, so he’s quite hyper,” Junho said casually while carefully closing the heavy wooden gate, then crossed his arms and stopped a few feet in front of Siwoo.

Siwoo met Junho’s bewildered, expectant gaze. From this distance, he could see his beautiful face perfectly, and when his eyes landed on the bluish bruises from his own punches and the small hematoma running beneath Junho’s full lips, his own searing tears began to fall. He couldn’t take it anymore.

He collapsed clumsily to his knees before Junho in the cold, frostbitten grass. Crawling closer, he wrapped his arms around Junho’s long legs, mirroring what had happened in the church – he wanted to feel the same humiliation, the same helplessness that Junho must have felt a few days before.

“I’m so sorry,” he sobbed, unable to hold back the torrent of grief bursting from his throat. He had lost all control over himself. “I don’t deserve you, I absolutely don’t deserve you, but please, forgive me! I did something terrible to you, and since then, I’ve wanted to die every single day. I wish I would die because I don’t deserve anything good in this world. You are the best, most beautiful thing that has ever happened to me, and yet I treated you horribly. I can’t even put into words how sorry I am…”

As he spoke, Siwoo kept waiting, waiting for Junho to finally kick him, to push him away, to yell at him for being so pathetic. But instead, Junho slowly – very slowly – crouched down, and when their faces were level, he carefully placed his fingers on Siwoo’s trembling lips, halting the flood of terrible words escaping his mouth.

Junho was crying, too. His gorgeous eyes curved into a soft, tearful smile as he looked at his love, diamond-like drops rolling continuously down his long lashes. He pulled Siwoo into a gentle, warm embrace, making Siwoo’s lips part in surprise. Yet, he simply clung to his lover, wrapping his arms around his slender, fragile body. Even beneath Junho’s thick sweater, he could feel every graceful bone and the warmth radiating from his body. The familiar scent of peach blossoms drifted into Siwoo’s nose: like the sweetest aroma of heaven, instantly soothing his frantic mind.

“Why are you doing this?” Siwoo whispered into Junho’s shoulder after a while, once the panic no longer shook his body so violently. “I don’t even deserve for you to kick me.”

He felt Junho’s long fingers raking through his hair, gently caressing his scalp before moving down to trace every curve of his hunched back. “Let’s forget it, okay?” Junho said softly, his voice delicate. His warm breath tickled the skin of Siwoo’s neck where it wasn’t covered by his black winter coat. “The whole thing was stupid. I’m just as much at fault as you are. In fact, I provoked you… I kicked you first… Don’t torment yourself over this anymore. I forgive you. In fact, I forgave you long ago, so please, stop crying. You’re breaking my heart.”

Siwoo opened his eyes and stared at the snow-covered mountains stretching beyond Junho’s back, as if expecting them to crumble. It never even occurred to him that Junho might blame himself too – that he might see himself as guilty in all of this… But how was that even possible? Siwoo simply couldn’t comprehend it because, to him, his love had done almost nothing wrong. Or had he remembered incorrectly? Had his emotions blinded him so much, just as Hyunshik had warned? Or… was this simply what love was about? Blaming yourself?

He felt and thought everything and nothing all at once. Stunned, he clung even tighter to Junho, and as fresh tears welled up in his eyes, he now cried not out of anguish but with a quiet, overwhelmed softness.

“I love you so much,” he sniffled, prompting Junho to gently pull away just enough so they could look into each other’s shimmering, tear-filled eyes.

“I love you too,” Junho murmured tenderly, brushing his fingers over Siwoo’s face. “But I think we both cry a little too much, don’t you?” he added playfully, making Siwoo’s thin but beautifully curved lips twitch into a faint smile.

Junho pressed a sweet, soft kiss to Siwoo’s lips, and the other boy immediately reciprocated the tender gesture. In that moment, Siwoo felt truly safe for the first time in days – like the darkness had finally stopped trying to consume him. The delicate touch of Junho’s lips, the sweet taste of his tongue, the wonderful scent of his body surrounded Siwoo like a protective blanket. His foggy mind kept repeating one thought: he was holding an angel, the most magnificent angel in the world.

Then, suddenly, a small body wedged itself between theirs. Siwoo had almost forgotten about the tiny dog, who was now energetically wriggling between them. Junho laughed and immediately scooped up the little animal, who responded with an adorable, quiet bark. Junho laughed sweetly, and Siwoo watched him with softened eyes, his gaze flickering between his love and the lively little furball.

For the first time in days, his aching heart finally felt the touch of lightness.