Chapter 93
The days following the Incheon incident were a blur of domesticity and healing. Haru stayed at the penthouse, a sanctuary of high-rise glass and marble that felt increasingly like a shared home rather than a temporary refuge. Since the production team for the film had pushed his remaining scenes back to allow for the swelling in his arm to subside, he was granted a rare, forced hiatus.
He was grateful for every second of it. Being under Raiven's beck and call was a surreal experience. The idol had transformed into a hovering, meticulous caretaker. Raiven ensured Haru's meals were nutritionally balanced, his medications were taken on the dot, and his every comfort was prioritized.
Haru tried to maintain some semblance of his routine, sneaking away to Raiven's private gym to run.
"You're going to strain yourself," Raiven had warned, leaning against the doorway with a towel over his shoulder, watching the treadmill whir.
Haru just laughed, his forehead glistening with sweat. "Running doesn't affect my hand, Raiven. I'm not doing handstands on the treadmill."
In truth, Haru was proud of the progress he'd made. He had gained considerable muscle definition the original Haru had lacked.The original Haru had been slender, almost delicate, but under Se-hee's relentless encouragement, and now his own drive, he had gained considerable muscle. His shoulders were broader, his core tighter. Even Se-hee had complimented him , joking about how she'd spent months trying to drag the "old" Haru to the gym with no success.
Speaking of Se-hee, she had finally uploaded the vlog from their downtime. Haru watched it on the large OLED screen in the living room while Raiven sat beside him. Despite her best efforts to edit Raiven out to protect his privacy, there were frames where his presence was undeniable, a shoulder, the back of a head, the distinct timbre of his laugh in the background. She had asked for permission before posting, and Raiven, surprisingly, had just shrugged and said, "It's fine."
Seeing Raiven's genuine smile as he watched the video of them all together ,the airport goodbye with Hae-rin and Se-hee waving like madwomen go mr kim, made Haru's chest tighten. He wondered how often Raiven actually got to enjoy himself like a normal person, away from camera lenses.
"Se-hee is a riot," Raiven remarked, pointing at the screen. "Anyone close to her must be constantly full of dopamine."
"She's a force of nature," Haru agreed, leaning into Raiven's side.
They slept in the same room now. For Haru, this was the pinnacle of his new life. There was something profoundly grounding about waking up in the middle of the night, smelling Raiven's expensive scent on the silk sheets, and feeling the steady heat of the other man's body.
They didn't do anything rough. Raiven was far too cautious, treating Haru as if he were made of fine porcelain. He refused to let Haru exert himself, preferring to settle for deep, soul-searching kisses and long bouts of making out. Occasionally, Raiven would provide "services" that left Haru breathless and satisfied, while Raiven remained a perfect, restrained gentleman. Haru would roll his eyes at the over-protectiveness, but he didn't fight it. He was being pampered, and he wasn't about to complain.
Raiven even helped him in the bath during those first few days when he got the cast. It was intimate in a way that bypassed sex - the slow, careful washing of his back, the way Raiven's eyes focused on making sure no water got under the waterproof cover of the brace.
But all good things have an expiration date.
The premiere of gwan was scheduled for the next day, and the nerves were finally starting to bite. Technically, it had been years since Haru - as Sunghoon - had experienced a premiere. He lay in the shower, the hot water beating against his back as he leaned his head against the tile wall.
Will they like it?
Will they think I'm outdated?
As Sunghoon, he had been a master of the craft, but the industry had changed. The audience was louder now, faster, and much more brutal. He had spent countless nights researching modern acting trends, filming himself on his phone, and reassessing his delivery. While Director Mae-rin seemed thrilled with his performance, the public was a different beast entirely. In the age of social media, a career could be dismantled in the time it took to send a tweet. Se-hee had mentioned it often, the constant fear of being "cancelled" over a misinterpreted look or a misunderstood word.
He shut off the water with a heavy sigh, stepped out, and wrapped a towel around his waist. Another towel went over his head to dry his hair. He was so lost in the mental rehearsal for the following day that he didn't hear the bathroom door open.
Suddenly, a pair of warm, familiar hands circled his waist. Haru felt a soft pair of lips press against the back of his shoulder.
"What are you thinking about?" Raiven asked, his voice muffled by Haru's skin.
Raiven turned him around so they were chest-to-chest. Haru stared up at him, realizing once again that nothing escaped Raiven's "hawk eyes."
"The premiere tomorrow," Haru admitted, his voice sounding small and dejected.
Raiven pulled him closer, resting his forehead against Haru's. Their breaths mingled in the steam-filled room. Haru had noticed Raiven loved this pose; it was a silent promise of solidarity.
"It's going to be fine," Raiven whispered, giving him a tender peck on the forehead.
Raiven stepped back just enough to take the towel from Haru's head, beginning to rub his hair dry with gentle, rhythmic motions. Haru closed his eyes, leaning into the domesticity of it. It made his heart swell to the point of aching. After his hair was damp-dry, Raiven insisted on applying moisturizer to Haru's skin.
Once Haru was dressed in one of Raiven's oversized shirts, they crawled into the massive bed. Raiven pulled him into the crook of his arm, anchoring him.
"Am sure you will do amazing," Raiven whispered into the darkness as he pulled Haru into the crook of his arm.
"I hope so," Haru whispered, burying his nose in the crook of Raiven's neck.
He wanted to stay in this bubble forever, but the ambition of Sunghoon was still alive within him. He retracted his head slightly and sought Raiven's lips. It was a slow, deep kiss a symphony of tongues and shared breath that tasted of salt and longing. They got drunk on the feeling until they finally pulled back, gasping for air. Haru drifted off to sleep shortly after, anchored by Raiven's heartbeat.
The following morning, Haru woke up early, following the strict itinerary Alice had sent him. He gave the sleeping Raiven a quick, soft kiss on the cheek , careful not to wake the man who had stayed up late just to make sure Haru fell asleep first, and slipped out.
Alice was waiting for him in the parking garage, leaning against her car.
"Nice place," she teased the moment he opened the door.
"Don't start, Alice," Haru warned, though a small smile played on his lips.
"What? I'm just saying, it's a very nice, very expensive penthouse. Great security," she added with a wink as she pulled out into the Seoul traffic.
Their first stop was a high-end barbershop. Haru hadn't had a proper cut since the Hong Kong trip. He sat in the chair and gave the stylist specific instructions. He wanted a look that was sharp, classic - something that felt like a bridge between the youthful Haru and the sophisticated Sunghoon. It was a signature look, a silent homage to the man he truly was.
The day was a marathon of promotions before the official evening screening. They arrived at a broadcast station to meet the rest of the cast. Haru found himself catching up with Deul-hwa, the female lead. They had kept in touch via text, and their rapport was easy and professional.
They filmed "behind-the-scenes" segments, played variety games for YouTube channels, and did short interviews. Then, it was time for the main event: the VIP screening at a major theater.
The lobby was packed with fans and press. Haru felt the familiar rush of adrenaline as he walked the red carpet. It wasn't as awkward as he'd feared; it felt like a homecoming. He talked to the fans with a blunt, refreshing honesty that seemed to take them by surprise. He had decided he wasn't going to play the "shy rookie" . He was a veteran in a young man's body, and he wanted to retain his identity.
Inside the theater, they watched the first episode. Haru watched his own performance with a clinical eye. He looked for the micro-expressions, the timing of the dialogue, the way he moved. Beside him, the director was beaming.
During the Q&A session afterward, the host asked him about his approach to the character.
"I didn't want him to be a hero," Haru said into the microphone, his voice steady. "I wanted him to be someone who was just trying to survive his own mistakes. Sometimes the truth is ugly, and I think the audience deserves to see that."
The fans swooned, the flashes of their phones creating a constant shimmer in the audience. They loved how articulate, precise, and unapologetically confident. He was a stark contrast to the more reserved lead actors, and his magnetism was undeniable.
As the event wrapped up, Haru walked down the hallway toward the exit, the echoes of fans calling his name still ringing in his ears. Alice was practically glowing beside him.
"The reception is incredible, Haru! Did you see the real-time searches? You're already trending," she whispered excitedly. "Mae-rin was right to push for you. You're going to get so many scripts after tonight."
Her words filled him with a rare, pure sense of gratitude. For a moment, the weight of his secret didn't feel like a burden; it felt like a superpower.
As they reached the VIP parking lot, Alice checked her phone. "Alright, my job here is done. Someone else is picking you up,"
Just then, a sleek, dark car honked in the shadows of the garage.
Haru recognized the silhouette immediately. A smile broke across his face- the first truly relaxed smile of the day. He said a quick goodbye to Alice and began walking toward the car, the cool evening air of Seoul feeling like a victory lap.