This happened the year Gyeol Go and Jun Shin were sixteen.
“Why do you want to debut?”
It came just as they had spent the entire day practicing dance until they were nearly dead and had only barely caught their breath. Sweat soaked his face and back like rain, his exhausted body was sprawled against the wall, and Gyeol was gulping down an ion drink while fighting the urge to collapse flat onto the floor when Jun Shin suddenly asked him that.
“What?”
“I asked why you want to debut.”
Why did he want to debut?
He had never thought about something like that.
He had become a trainee at eight and spent eight straight years practicing dance and singing. Half his life had been lived as that damn trainee, looking only toward that damn debut.
Sometimes, Jun Shin asked profound questions.
Questions Gyeol Go’s mind had never once come up with, questions he had never even been curious about. Questions that made doubt surface the moment he heard them, only to make his head grow complicated right after.
“Do you really have to ask something like that right now?”
I feel like I’m dying.
Gyeol set down the ion drink carelessly and lay flat on the practice room floor.
“It’s dusty. Don’t lie down.”
“Forget it. My head hurts because of you, so I’m lying down. I feel like I’m dying.”
Jun Shin pushed himself off the wall, rested his elbow on his knee, propped his chin in his hand, and looked down at Gyeol Go.
Gyeol, still lying down, looked up at Jun Shin.
“Your answer?”
“What’s with you today? Do you have energy to spare?”
The difference in their traits really was cruel. Gyeol Go, who had recently manifested as an Omega, found his mood twisting for no reason whenever he realized how clearly inferior his stamina was compared to Jun Shin, an Alpha.
Jun Shin’s face gradually tilted forward. His face entered close range. Close enough that their noses nearly brushed. His smiling face was far too near.
Gyeol Go did not avoid him.
“What now?”
“I want to exist in the reason you dream of debuting.”
His voice was far too clear. His black eyes shone absurdly bright.
The things that made up Jun Shin. Every side of Jun Shin. All of it came at Gyeol Go with overwhelming force.
Gyeol turned his head aside, avoiding his gaze.
“What the hell are you saying?”
“Gyeol.”
Calling his name, Jun Shin shifted and lay down on the side where Gyeol had turned his head. He, too, turned onto his side and looked at Gyeol.
Gyeol could not avoid his eyes a second time. His gaze fixed on Jun Shin, and Jun Shin whispered low.
“You’re the reason I want to debut.”
“......”
“I’m going to debut with you.”
“...What am I to you?”
“To me.”
“This.”
The air inside the practice room, where two adolescent boys had danced until they were drenched in sweat, was terribly stale. There had not been enough time for the heat in their bodies to cool. The touch against his cheek was hot too.
It was difficult to breathe. He thought he had held his breath.
Their lips touched.
“...Say it in words.”
In the brief gap when they parted, Gyeol Go murmured softly. It was a pointless wish. Bracing a hand beside Gyeol’s head and lowering himself, Jun Shin pressed down as if covering Gyeol entirely.
“My debut is you.”
Their lips touched again.
Gyeol could not open his eyes for a long while. He held his breath, and held it, then pressed his fingertips against the practice room floor. Jun Shin seized Gyeol’s wrist and looped it around his own neck.
***
Those two were now twenty-seven.
Now that every shining moment had become a stale piece of the past, Gyeol could not understand why his first love—whom he hated so much that even reuniting on a dating show made him sick—was doing this to him.
“...Jun Shin.”
He had just called his name, thinking he needed to shut him up.
Then he saw the faint moisture gleaming in Jun Shin’s eyes. He saw his eyebrows droop slightly, and the strain at the corners of his mouth.
Gyeol Go knew what Jun Shin felt at times like this. This expression had not changed at all.
Apology. Guilt. Regret.
The expression he used to make when he had done something wrong and pulled Gyeol’s hand toward himself.
Why the hell are you acting like you’re the one who was abandoned?
Just as that question, impossible to ask, gathered on the tip of his tongue, Jun Shin pulled Gyeol Go into his arms.
A familiar body scent he had smelled countless times rushed to the tip of his nose. It was the very pheromone he had encountered in the pheromone booth. The density of those broad shoulders and that firm embrace was unchanged too.
Gyeol’s mind instantly became complicated. He could not recklessly twist away or shove Jun Shin off. The cameras were still rolling.
“Wait, Jun Shin.”
He placed a hand against Jun Shin’s chest and applied a little force. Please let go. Come to your senses.
But Jun Shin did not release Gyeol Go. He added strength to his arms and pressed him into his embrace so he could not move. Even that had not changed at all.
“Gyeol, I...”
He had to calm him down. Gyeol whispered quietly enough that only Jun Shin could hear.
“The cameras are rolling. Get a hold of your—”
“It was only ever you.”
It was a nail driven deep.
Emotion overflowed and surged toward Gyeol. It swept in like a wave and turned his mind white.
Why was that?
Gyeol felt like crying.
Even while conscious of the cameras, he could not easily quiet the tidal wave of emotion.
Jun Shin, whom he had thought he never wanted to see again. Jun Shin, whom he had hated, resented, and despised for a full eight years.
That should have been true. And yet, at Jun Shin’s plea that had leapt over those eight years to reach him, Gyeol felt emotion rise in his throat.
Something unsettling. Something anxious. Something ominous.
And the misery of not wanting to be shaken one-sidedly again.
Just as his eyes grew hot and he reached the brink of tears, the person who unexpectedly seized his reason and slammed it back into place was someone he had not expected.
Because beyond Jun Shin’s shoulder, dozens of meters away, Yo Han Sung was standing beside the camera operator filming the two of them.
Time flowed slowly.
As if the lens had zoomed in, Yo Han Sung’s gaze was terrifyingly intense even from afar.
When Gyeol saw Yo Han Sung watching them with his hands shoved into his pockets, his suit jacket fluttering in the sea breeze, he abruptly regained his pace.
“I don’t think this is right.”
Speaking in a calm tone, Gyeol pushed Jun Shin away gently, but with unmistakable force.
Jun Shin was quick to notice things. Whether he sensed the change in Gyeol or realized that Gyeol had become conscious of something, this time he obediently pulled away.
“Gyeol.”
But that call was dripping with desperate lingering attachment.
“I think you should think carefully. Remember that we’re on R-Connect right now, that it’s only just day two, and that your fans will be watching this scene.”
“......”
He spoke deliberately and directly. He drew a clear line while including concern about the direction of the show. There was no way any sane production team would leave a conversation like this unedited.
At least, that was true of Producer Yoo, the main producer of R-Connect as Gyeol had studied and understood her. With people already talking because this was a celebrity special, she would not take that kind of risk.
Exclude the provocation and create an objective, bland scene.
That was likely the only way out right now.
“...Sorry. I let my emotions get ahead of me.”
“It’s okay. It happens.”
You really are insane. But knowing how to admit fault and apologize—that’s one of your strengths.
Gyeol held out his hand for a handshake. After looking down at that hand for a moment, Jun Shin took it. The camera captured the two of them shaking hands in front of the sea at sunset.
“Let’s do our best for the remaining thirteen days. I look forward to it.”
Jun Shin looked like he had a lot he wanted to say. But in the end, he covered all those words and followed Gyeol’s lead.
“Same here. I look forward to it, Gyeol.”
Yo Han Sung watched the entire thing.
***
Day 2 favorability choice.
After much thought, Gyeol chose Tommy.
The nickname giant Potato is cute :)
After putting the card with the simple message into the mailbox, he returned to the lodging and reviewed his choice.
Jun Shin was excluded no matter what.
Sun Choi had been his choice yesterday, so he was excluded to avoid making continuous choices too early.
He had far too little contact with Woo Seok Jung.
That left Tommy, who had at least stood out today by matching pheromones and showing a noticeable reaction. Since he had already solidified his image as giant Potato, it was an appropriate choice.
After every cast member finished choosing, Gyeol’s turn came, and he checked his mailbox.
Today, three cards had come in for Gyeol.
Thank God. This is a good flow.
The worry that he might receive all the votes two days in a row gently melted away. He wanted to avoid the risk of being branded a villain who was stringing everyone along.
I enjoyed brunch today. Maybe a blood sugar spike isn’t so bad after all.
Pfft. Gyeol covered his mouth as laughter escaped.
The owner of this card had to be Sun Choi. Why did he keep getting stuck on blood sugar spikes?
I think he’s a good person.
Looking back, today had not been filled only with bad things. The brunch date he had had with Sun Choi in the morning had been quite enjoyable.
With his mood lighter, Gyeol checked the second card.
For me, it’s you.
His hand faltered. Strength entered the fingertips holding the card.
Jun Shin, this bastard, seriously.
He forced down the sigh about to burst out, stared at the card as if enjoying the lingering emotion, then folded it away. His insides stirred, but none of it showed on the outside.
He would not let it show.
Let’s check the last one quickly and go back.
Sun Choi and Jun Shin had both chosen Gyeol while breaking anonymity and revealing themselves.
Then who was the owner of the last card?
Flutter.
“...Huh?”
His voice slipped out without meaning to. Because he was genuinely surprised.
The owner of the last card was neither Woo Seok Jung nor Tommy.
You’re thinking of me, aren’t you? See you soon.
The late-entry twist.
The late-entry twist had announced his entrance on the card he sent to Gyeol.