Startled like they’d seen a ghost, the older men practically jumped out of their skins, taking several steps back in surprise.
The abruptness of their reaction was comical, almost a synchronized dance of alarm.
Hakyung blinked, his long lashes fluttering, tilting his head to the side like a puzzled puppy.
His innocent confusion only seemed to deepen their discomfort, making them squirm under his unblinking gaze.
“Why?” he asked innocently, his voice a soft query, his wide eyes reflecting genuine bewilderment.
He truly had no idea what could have caused such a dramatic response.
“Ahem! It’s nothing. Just… surprised, is all. So you were here, Hakyung?” one of them quickly deflected, his voice slightly too high-pitched, a nervous tremor betraying his attempt at nonchalance.
He tried to compose himself, smoothing down his slightly rumpled shirt, but the tension in his shoulders remained evident.
“Yes! I’m helping Brother Geunrim today!” Hakyung chirped brightly, his tone as cheerful as ever, completely oblivious to the lingering awkwardness.
He gestured enthusiastically towards Geunrim, who offered a weak, tight-lipped smile in return, equally caught in the strange atmosphere.
Hakyung’s reaction to the word “Boss” had already been compared to Pavlov’s dog, and the comparison wasn’t exactly unfair.
It was almost an automatic response, a conditioning so ingrained that it bordered on instinctive.
At this point, it might be more accurate to say that the “Kang” in Kang Hakyung stood not for ‘dolphin’ but for ‘puppy’.
If the boy had a tail, there was no doubt it would’ve been wagging furiously, a blur of enthusiastic motion, the moment someone uttered the word “Boss.”
His entire demeanor would shift, his eyes brightening, his posture becoming more alert and eager.
It was a phenomenon that both amused and sometimes exasperated those around him, yet it was undeniably endearing.
“Mr. Muheon said there’s something he wants… Ahem! Anyway, I’ll just step out for a bit…”
Sang-oh mumbled incoherently, his words tripping over each other as he fumbled his way toward the exit.
His movements were jerky, as if he were trying to escape an invisible net.
Clearly uncomfortable, his eyes darted around the room, avoiding Hakyung’s direct gaze entirely as he practically scurried from the room, leaving a palpable silence in his wake.
Naturally, Hakyung’s curious gaze immediately shifted to Geoung, who was now the sole recipient of his unwavering attention.
Geoung sighed internally, knowing he couldn’t escape the directness of Hakyung’s questions.
“Sang-oh handled it, so I don’t really know,” Geoung said with an apologetic smile, shaking his head slowly from side to side. His smile, though polite, didn’t quite reach his eyes, betraying a hint of unease. He avoided elaborating, hoping his vague answer would suffice.
The way both men acted like it was some grand secret only served to pique Hakyung’s interest even more.
His brows furrowed in concentration, and his eyes narrowed suspiciously as he stared at the tightly shut office door, as if he could discern the hidden truth through the solid wood.
A playful glint entered his gaze; secrets, especially those kept from him, were a challenge.
Fine. I’ll just ask the Boss directly later.
That’s the only logical thing to do, he told himself, puffing his cheeks slightly in a gesture of mild indignation.
He decided to table the mystery for now, confident that he would extract the information eventually.
***
Later that evening, after finishing all his assigned tasks with his usual meticulousness and tidying up around the dorm, Hakyung was finally able to unwind.
He was sprawled lazily across his cozy bed, a haven of comfort after a long day.
Wrapped up in his blanket like a burrito, cocooned in its warmth, he gazed up at the dolphin-shaped wind chime swaying gently from the ceiling fan above.
The soft, melodic clinking of glass against glass rang in his ears, a soothing symphony that lulled him into a state of blissful relaxation.
The gentle rhythm of the chime seemed to echo the peaceful beat of his own heart.
And suddenly, like lightning striking a memory, he sat bolt upright, his relaxed posture instantly snapping to attention.
His eyes widened, a sudden realization dawning on him.
“Ah! Right!” he exclaimed, the sound echoing slightly in the quiet room, smacking his forehead lightly with the heel of his palm in a gesture of self-reproach.
He had completely, utterly forgotten to ask the Boss what it was that Sang-oh had been sent out to buy.
The entire conversation, and his burning curiosity from earlier, had slipped his mind entirely, swept away by the mundane tasks of the day and the comfort of his bed.
Frustrated by his own forgetfulness, he clicked his tongue in exasperation, a soft, self-admonishing sound, and reached for his phone, which lay beside him on the blanket.
Without hesitation, his thumb moved instinctively, tapping the heart-shaped shortcut icon he’d set for the Boss’s number.
It was a small, personal detail, a testament to the special place Muheon held in his life.
The line hadn’t even rung a full three times before a familiar low, mellow voice picked up, a sound that instantly brought a comforting warmth to Hakyung’s chest.
“Yeah,” came the Boss’s voice—calm, steady, and comforting as always, a familiar anchor in Hakyung’s often-frenzied world.
“Boss! Are you busy?” Hakyung asked, his voice already a pitch higher than usual, betraying his eagerness and excitement.
He couldn’t help but sound like an excited child.
“Not busy. Why did you miss me?”
The teasing reply came smoothly, a playful lilt in Muheon’s voice that Hakyung knew well.
This kind of playful banter was a common occurrence between them, a delightful dance of affection.
The teasing reply made Hakyung’s ears turn red on instinct, a blush spreading across his cheeks despite himself.
He shifted uncomfortably, a mix of embarrassment and genuine fondness swirling within him.
“Oh, of course! I mean—no! That’s not why I called! I just… I had something I wanted to ask!”
He shook his head rapidly, even though Muheon couldn’t see him, trying to suppress the sudden fluttering in his chest.
Of course he missed him.
He always did, every single day.
But that wasn’t the point right now; he had a mission.
He had to stay focused.
He pouted slightly, his lips protruding in a small, indignant pout, feeling a bit left out.
If it wasn’t anything dangerous or wildly expensive, shouldn’t I, his own boyfriend, be the first to know?
I’d have bought it for him myself if he asked.
The thought was sincere, a testament to his devotion.
“What is it?” Muheon prompted, his voice is gentle now, sensing Hakyung’s shifting mood.
The underlying warmth in his tone was always a comfort.
“Boss, did you tell Mr. Sang-oh to buy something today? He and Geoung are acting all secretive and weird about it, and now I’m just dying to know!” Hakyung blurted out, the words tumbling out in a rush, his curiosity finally getting the better of him.
His voice was a mix of exasperation and intense eagerness.
“Hmm,” the man replied, drawing out the sound, a deliberate pause that only heightened Hakyung’s suspense.
“You’re that curious, huh?”
Even through the phone, Hakyung could practically see the sly smile stretching across Muheon’s face, a knowing, teasing grin that was almost exclusively reserved for him.
That teasing tone—the one reserved specifically for him, a special mark of their relationship—made his already-pouting lips puff out even further, an exaggerated display of his frustration.
He stabbed his blanket with a vengeful finger, as if he were aiming at Muheon himself.
“Are you not going to tell me either?”
His voice turned slightly sulky, a deliberate attempt to elicit sympathy, which only made Muheon chuckle more warmly on the other end of the line.
The sound of Muheon’s genuine laughter, deep and resonant, was always a balm to Hakyung’s ears.
“Of course I’ll tell you,” the man promised, his voice softening further, a hint of tenderness in his tone.
“How about tomorrow—are you free?”
“Tomorrow?” Hakyung echoed, blinking rapidly, taken aback by the sudden suggestion.
“Isn’t it Wednesday?” He was still in work-mode, and the idea of a spontaneous outing felt entirely out of place for a weekday.
“Yup. Let’s go out,” Muheon said casually, as if it were the weekend, as if their schedules were completely free.
The nonchalant suggestion was so utterly Muheon, a true “Boss thing to do,” breaking free from the ordinary.
To suggest a spontaneous outing on a workday—that was such a Boss thing to do, completely unexpected and delightfully impulsive.
Still, Hakyung wasn’t about to argue. It wasn’t like he could say no to that voice, that deep, persuasive tone that always got his heart racing.
Instead of protesting, he found himself smiling without realizing it, a wide, genuine grin spreading across his face.
“Then you have to bring something tasty for the hyungs when we get back,” he declared, using duty as a weak excuse to hide his bubbling excitement.
He was practically bouncing with anticipation.
“Got it. See you tomorrow,” came the easy reply, a calm promise that solidified their plans.
“Yup! Sleep well!” Hakyung chirped, his voice filled with renewed cheer.
“Mm.”
Before the line disconnected, Hakyung, in a surge of affectionate impulsiveness, quickly leaned closer to the speaker and made exaggerated kissing sounds—“smooch smooch!” into the phone.
He was rewarded with soft, genuine laughter from the other end, the kind that made his stomach flip and his toes curl, a warm, fuzzy feeling spreading through his entire body.
It was a sound that made his heart swell with happiness.
And just like that, he completely forgot what he’d originally called to ask.
The mystery of Sang-oh’s errand was completely overshadowed by the excitement of their upcoming date.
***
The next morning, while preparing breakfast in the dorm’s small kitchenette, Hakyung, still buzzing from the previous night’s conversation, decided to make a lunchbox too—just in case.
He didn’t know where they were going, but wherever it was, it could definitely be improved by good food, a fundamental principle of Hakyung’s philosophy.
He packed it all neatly into a sturdy box: colorful inari sushi, meticulously shaped; neatly rolled kimbap, cut into perfect spirals; juicy bacon-wrapped vegetables, a delightful savory addition; and even some fresh fruit from a recently gifted basket, adding a touch of sweetness and freshness.
Feeling oddly proud of himself, a sense of accomplishment swelling in his chest, he marched down to the parking lot, lunchbox in hand, ready for their adventure.
Muheon was already there, leaning casually against the car, his posture relaxed, a picture of effortless cool.
As soon as he saw Hakyung, a warm smile touched his lips, and he reached out his hand, an inviting gesture.
Hakyung clasped the larger hand, his fingers intertwining with Muheon’s, and gave it a playful swing, a silent expression of his joy.
“What’d you bring?” Muheon asked, eyeing the lunchbox with a curious glance.
“A lunchbox!” Hakyung beamed, his enthusiasm infectious. “Even if I don’t know where we’re going, we have to eat! If we find a place with flowers, we’ll just plop down and eat right there!”
He painted a vivid picture of their idyllic picnic, his imagination already running wild.
Chuckling softly at the younger man’s boundless enthusiasm, Muheon took the bag for him, his strong fingers easily taking the weight.
Judging by the weight, it seemed like Hakyung had packed enough to feed five, a testament to his generous nature and his belief that good food could solve almost anything.
The drive was smooth, the car gliding effortlessly along the quiet roads.
The sun was already climbing high in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the landscape.
Hakyung leaned back against the plush seat, humming softly to the gentle rhythm of the music playing from the car’s speakers, completely at ease.
But eventually, curiosity, a persistent itch in his mind, overtook comfort.
“Boss… where are we going?” he asked, his voice a little softer now, as if trying not to disturb the peaceful atmosphere.
“The sea,” came the simple, understated answer.
“…What?” Hakyung froze, his body going rigid.
His humming stopped abruptly, and the easy smile vanished from his face.
His pupils shook like leaves in the wind, a sudden tremor of fear seizing him.
The sea?
That terrifying place where just dipping a toe in could suck you into the depths, a vast, unknowable abyss that held nothing but terrifying memories?
He clenched his fists on his lap, his knuckles turning white, biting his lower lip so hard he could taste blood.
A cold dread seeped into him, replacing the warmth of anticipation.
“We’re going to have lunch there,” Muheon said casually, completely unfazed by Hakyung’s visible distress.
“W-What kind of lunch at the sea? I won’t even be able to digest it!” Hakyung wailed, his voice rising in pitch, a genuine cry of distress.
He turned toward Muheon with betrayal etched all over his face, his eyes wide with hurt and disbelief.
He knows.
He knows what the sea did to me!
And yet… he dares?!
The unspoken accusation hung heavy in the air.
Muheon, ever unbothered, chuckled softly.
To him, Hakyung was more endearing than scary—especially when worked up.
His protests were simply a charming display of his unique personality, a little drama that only made him more captivating.
Before long, the car rolled into a quiet coastal town famous for its tidal flats, a picturesque scene of calm waters and expansive mudflats.
Hakyung looked around, his eyes still wide with apprehension, and blinked.
“Huh? I’ve been here before.”
A faint flicker of recognition, followed by a deeper wave of discomfort.
“Oh?” Muheon prompted, a subtle shift in his posture, a hint of expectation in his voice.
“This is where I almost drowned while clam-digging as a kid! I think I told you about it. My grandma always warned me to stay away from here.”
The memory, though distant, brought a fresh wave of unease.
Of course, Muheon already knew.
It was also the place where he had first met Hakyung, a pivotal moment in their shared history, though Hakyung remained blissfully unaware.
But Hakyung had no idea that Muheon had been the one to save him that day.
He had once briefly wondered if maybe it hadn’t been Kim Taeyoung—the boy he believed had rescued him—but with the memory so distant and the fear so vivid, he had given up on finding the truth, accepting the narrative he had.
“I thought I might remember something,” Hakyung muttered, scanning the view, his eyes searching the horizon, “but I got nothing. Just a vague discomfort in my chest.”
He rubbed his sternum, a futile attempt to soothe the lingering unease.
“Really? Nothing at all?” Muheon asked quietly, a trace of disappointment in his voice, though he quickly masked it.
“Yeah. Guess the trauma buried everything.”
Hakyung shrugged, a sense of resignation in his voice.
“That’s a shame…” Muheon sighed softly, a complex mix of emotions swirling within him.
Some memories were better forgotten—the painful ones, the ones that scarred.
But others, he wished, Hakyung could recall.
Especially the way he’d cried, clinging to life, tiny and vulnerable in Muheon’s arms.
That memory, though painful, was also precious.
Still, if he couldn’t remember… maybe today could start something new, a fresh, positive memory to overwrite the old, terrifying one.
It was a hopeful thought, a quiet determination.
“W-Wait! Are we getting out already? The sea’s right there!”
Hakyung clutched the door handle, his fingers white-knuckled, a desperate last stand.
“C-Can’t I just stay in the car?”
His voice was a high-pitched whine, laced with genuine fear.
“We agreed to hang out together,” Muheon reminded him gently, his voice firm but patient.
He got out, circled to the passenger side, and opened the door himself, a silent invitation, almost an imperative.
Hakyung remained frozen in place, eyes wide with a mixture of terror and disbelief, his body a rigid statue of apprehension.
It was high tide, and the water lapped softly against the shore—not the violent, crashing waves of the East Sea, which had been the scene of his childhood nightmare.
But to him, even these gentle lapping waves still felt like a monster waiting to swallow him whole, a vast, hungry maw poised to engulf him.
“I’m sorry, Boss, but I just can’t do this! I love you—even if you’re a sea eel! But I can’t embrace the sea!” Hakyung burst out, a frantic, nonsensical declaration born of his panic.
“…Sea eel?” Muheon repeated, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise, a hint of bewildered amusement replacing his earlier seriousness.
The sudden, unexpected comparison momentarily disarmed him.
“You can’t turn into a freshwater eel, right? And I can’t turn into a bottlenose dolphin either!”
Hakyung babbled, his logic completely deranged by fear.
He was desperate, grasping at any argument, no matter how absurd.
“Wait… are you seriously still—?” Muheon started, his voice a mix of disbelief and dawning realization.
The two stared at each other, talking over one another in absolute chaos, a cacophony of fear and bewilderment. Hakyung babbled like a desperate baby dolphin, his words a stream of frantic, illogical explanations, while Muheon looked utterly dumbfounded—he had been mistaken for a sea eel all this time?
The sheer absurdity of it struck him, a wave of incredulous amusement washing over him.
Finally, Muheon reached out and gently placed both hands on Hakyung’s trembling shoulders, his touch firm and reassuring.
He looked him directly in the eye, his expression unusually soft, his gaze steady and unwavering.
“Kang Hakyung. Hakyung-ah.”
The deep, familiar voice calling his name, a soft, intimate rumble, cut through Hakyung’s panic.
At the sound, Hakyung’s tightly closed eyes fluttered open—just a little, a sliver of his gaze peeking out, drawn by the undeniable comfort in Muheon’s voice.
Muheon knew: it was time to clear the air, to dispel the long-held misunderstanding, and maybe… to start rewriting the past, to replace old fears with new, tender memories.