“I don’t want to be alone anymore.”
The words slipped from Haru’s lips, fragile, nearly lost to the quiet hum of his headphones. The song playing was Cry, its slow aching voice spilling softly into the room. The sound curled like smoke around the three of them, staining the air with melancholy. Haru realized too late that both Symhon and Soojin had heard him. His chest tightened, heat rushing to his face.
Symhon’s fingers stayed curled around Haru’s wrist, steady and grounding, as though anchoring him to the moment. His eyes were calm but deep, darker than the room itself, searching Haru’s trembling face. “Then let us stay,” Symhon said, voice gentle.
On Haru’s other side, Soojin leaned closer, the playful grin gone, his tone low and bare. “Don’t be alone, Haru. Not when we’re here.”
Haru’s body stiffened, caught between their touches, their voices, their warmth. The orchard air drifted in through the window, cool and sweet with pear blossoms. Outside, night pressed heavy, the silence vast, but inside the room every sound was magnified—the faint brush of fingers, the shallow breaths, the sorrowful chords of the music.
“This is too much,” Haru whispered, his voice trembling.
“It doesn’t have to be.” Symhon’s hand moved up, brushing Haru’s shoulder with quiet restraint. His touch was soft, yet it burned through Haru’s thin shirt. “You don’t need to carry loneliness anymore.”
“Exactly,” Soojin cut in, more impulsive. His hand boldly covered Haru’s, his thumb brushing across his knuckles. “Let us share it. Or better—let us take it away.”
The song rose, the voice sighing I don’t wanna cry, I don’t wanna cry, and Haru’s heart thudded painfully. He wanted to say no, to step back, but his body betrayed him. His shoulders shook, tears welling up in his eyes, and before he could stop himself he whispered, “Why me? Why now?”
“Because I can’t keep pretending anymore,” Soojin answered quickly, his forehead pressing lightly against Haru’s temple. “I’ve loved you for years, Haru. Longer than I can even remember.”
Symhon’s eyes flickered, his jaw tightening, but his voice was steady, low, almost breaking. “Because you’re the person I’ve always seen, even when you thought no one did. I can’t stand by anymore, either.”
Loved. The word struck Haru like lightning. His tears spilled, and the song’s mournful tone felt like it came from his own chest. He covered his face, shaking.
Soojin pulled him against his side, holding him with strong arms that smelled faintly of earth and blossoms. Symhon moved closer too, his hand rubbing Haru’s back in slow circles, grounding him. Two kinds of warmth, two confessions pressing against him, and he was breaking apart in their arms.
The orchard breeze stirred the curtains, blossoms drifting inside. One petal landed on Haru’s hair, and Soojin gently brushed it away. “Look at me,” Soojin whispered. Haru raised his eyes, caught by Soojin’s sincerity, roughened edges smoothed into raw tenderness. Before Haru could breathe, Soojin tilted his chin and pressed his lips against his cheek, dangerously close to his mouth.
Haru froze, heart slamming. Symhon’s hand tightened on his shoulder, the only sign of his control slipping. His voice was low, stern but thick. “Soojin.”
Soojin’s eyes flickered toward Symhon but he didn’t pull back immediately, his breath hot against Haru’s skin. Finally, he exhaled and leaned away just enough to whisper, “I just want him to know.”
Haru sat trembling, tears wetting his lashes. He turned slightly toward Symhon, drawn by the gravity in his gaze. Symhon’s eyes were heavy with restraint, his touch tender but firm, as if he were the only thing keeping Haru from shattering.
The song’s final refrain washed over them, the words like a plea. I don’t wanna cry… The sound faded, leaving the room in silence but for the orchard wind and the racing of three hearts.
Haru’s lips parted. “I can’t… choose.”
“You don’t have to yet,” Soojin said immediately, brushing a strand of hair from Haru’s forehead. “Just… don’t push us away.”
Symhon’s silence stretched long, but then he nodded once, eyes never leaving Haru. “We can wait.”
Haru’s tears kept falling, but this time they were not only from loneliness. He felt suffocated and freed all at once, trapped in a triangle he had never asked for yet secretly longed for.
The night dragged on, the three of them lingering in that fragile closeness until exhaustion finally overtook Haru. He drifted to sleep with the faint echo of the song still in his ears, caught between the steady warmth of Symhon and the protective embrace of Soojin.
Morning came bright, sunlight spilling across the orchard. Pear blossoms glittered with dew, the air sweet with the promise of fruit. Haru blinked awake, his body stiff but warm. He startled when he realized he was lying against Soojin’s chest, Symhon sitting on the other side, awake and watching quietly.
“You should rest more,” Symhon said, his voice soft but carrying weight.
Soojin yawned, stretching one arm lazily while keeping the other firmly around Haru. “Morning, sleepyhead. Hungry? We can grab pears.”
Haru sat up quickly, flustered, brushing his hair from his face. “I… I need to get ready for the clinic.”
“You need to eat first,” Symhon countered gently. “Your patients will want you alive and well, not half-dead from skipping meals.”
Soojin grinned, already tugging Haru toward the orchard. “Come on. It’s perfect picking weather.”
Against his will, Haru followed. The orchard was alive with sunlight, the trees heavy with blossoms and small fruit. Dew brushed his ankles as they walked between rows. Soojin climbed a low branch with practiced ease, reaching for pears, his shirt riding up to reveal his tanned waist. He tossed one down toward Haru with a grin.
Symhon caught it before it hit the ground, handing it properly to Haru. His eyes flicked briefly at Soojin, but he said nothing.
Haru bit into the pear, the juice sweet and dripping. For a moment the taste brought back memories of childhood—the three of them racing through the rows, faces sticky, laughter echoing. His chest ached with nostalgia.
“Remember when you got stuck in that tree?” Soojin laughed, dangling from a branch. “Symhon had to drag the ladder out and scold us both for hours.”
“You deserved it,” Symhon said dryly, but his lips curved slightly at the memory.
Haru’s laugh slipped out before he could stop it, light and genuine. The sound seemed to surprise both of them. Soojin froze mid-branch, his eyes softening as though he had found treasure. Symhon’s gaze warmed, quiet pride in his expression.
The orchard air buzzed with unspoken things. Soojin jumped down, landing close, his hand brushing Haru’s waist as he steadied him. Haru startled, heart racing.
Symhon stepped forward too, adjusting Haru’s collar gently, his fingers lingering a moment too long. “You’ll catch a chill.”
The touches, the closeness, the intensity of their gazes it was too much in broad daylight. Haru’s knees felt weak.
Soojin’s voice dropped, husky. “Haru… do you have any idea what you do to us?”
Haru swallowed hard, his lips parting with no words to give. Symhon’s hand on his collar trembled slightly, betraying cracks in his control.
For one breathless moment, it felt like either of them might kiss him, right there among the blossoms. Haru’s heart pounded so violently he thought the trees themselves could hear it.
Then a voice called from across the orchard Yin, Soojin’s younger brother, shouting about breakfast. The spell broke. Symhon’s hand dropped, Soojin stepped back with a curse, and Haru’s breath came fast as though he had been holding it for too long.
The blossoms swayed gently overhead, oblivious to the storm brewing beneath them.
Haru pressed a hand to his chest, trembling. He could still hear the ghost of Cry in his ears, the music echoing like his own heart’s confession. He knew this was only the beginning.
ns216.73.217.39da2
and then Add to home screen.