Kiss Me Like You’re Not Married.

The door shut with a soft click, and the sound lingered far longer than it should have.

Joon-won stood there for a second, staring at the door. Silence poured in around him like fog. No little footsteps. No clinking breakfast dishes. No questions about where his tie was or reminders about what day of the week it was. Just… quiet.

He sighed softly and walked back into the kitchen, fingers curling around the rim of his half-empty coffee mug. The coffee had gone lukewarm. He didn't reheat it. Just took a slow sip and leaned against the counter, letting his head fall back with a soft groan that didn't leave his chest.

There was relief. The kind that settled low in his spine.. heavy, honest, a little shameful.

But there was guilt too.

Not the kind that screamed. The kind that whispered. That wrapped itself around the stillness of a house that had once been full. Around the memory of his son's tiny fingers around his own. Around the softness in Ha-eun's face when she said, "Okay."

He hummed without thinking. A low, tuneless note. The kind of sound you make when the silence gets too sharp.

Then he pushed off the counter and walked slowly toward the bedroom.

The door creaked when he opened it. Same as always. Same as it had for years.

He stood there for a moment before entering, eyes trailing over the still-made bed, the faint scent of his cologne mixed with her shampoo on the pillows, the framed photo of their wedding tucked near the nightstand. Her side was tidier than his. It always had been.

He opened the wardrobe and reached for the suits first, the good ones. Two navy, one charcoal gray. The ones he'd usually wear to long meetings, client dinners, or days he needed to feel like he still had some control over his life.

Then the basics, shirts, underwear, two extra ties. Toothbrush. Razor. Hair pomade. All of it went into a leather duffel bag he kept for overnight business trips.

But this time, it wasn't a business trip.

He sat down at the edge of the bed for a second, the duffel hanging open beside him.

And for a moment, everything hit him at once.

The stillness.

The choices.

Tae-hyun..

His hand tightened on the edge of the mattress, jaw flexing.

Ten days. He hadn't called. Hadn't texted. Not once.

Not because he didn't want to.

Because he needed to feel like he was doing the right thing. Even if it tore a hole into his chest.

He stood up slowly, zipped the duffel, and took one last look around before heading out.

⸻

And for Tae-hyun, those ten days dragged on.

It wasn't unbearable.. not exactly. But it lingered.

Everything had a dull, soft edge to it. Like things were fine, but faded.

Tae-hyun still woke up at 6:30 sharp. Still brewed two cups of coffee, one for him, one for his wife. Still showered, shaved, dressed, and drove his son to kindergarten sometimes instead of her before heading to the office.

He still kissed his wife goodbye in the mornings. Still made her laugh when he teased her about leaving her shoes scattered in the hallway. Still touched her gently at night when she curled into him, never forgetting to hold her close.

Nothing felt wrong. And yet everything did.

She brought up the baby topic again on the third night. not with desperation, but with hopeful eyes and a subtle kind of warmth. She wrapped her arms around him, whispered into his ear, kissed down his neck like she used to in college.

He didn't pull away.

But he didn't let it go too far either.

They made love. Slow. Familiar. She was beautiful, and he tried to be good to her.

But when she whispered, "Should we try… this time?" he gently, sweetly shook his head.

"Not yet," he said with a smile that almost convinced her. "Let's just… wait a bit longer."

He said it softly, fingers brushing her hair from her face.

She didn't fight it. Didn't argue.

But she wanted it. And he knew it.

Still, Joon's voice lingered too clearly in his head.

"Don't have another baby."

That night, Tae-hyun lay awake long after she fell asleep. His mind drifted to a rooftop. To a smoke curling in the air. To a kiss against a wall. To a voice in his ear saying what it'd be like if they were only each other's.

He told himself not to think about it.

But he didn't stop.

⸻

On the tenth day of no contact..

Tae-hyun was in the middle of reviewing building plans with two coworkers, standing in front of a whiteboard in the office conference room. The windows were drawn halfway open to let the summer air in.

He'd been doing well. Focused. Composed. Laughing at the right times. Offering the right feedback.

His phone buzzed once.

He ignored it.

Then it buzzed again.

He pulled it out of his pocket without much thought, glanced at the screen and froze.

Joon-won: 

'I'm outside.'

The marker in his hand slipped a little.

"I—uh… I'll be right back," he said quickly, already walking to the door. "Sorry. Just need a minute."

He didn't reply to the text. Didn't ask where. Didn't say coming. Didn't even breathe fully.

He just walked. Fast.

Through the hallway.

Down the stairs.

Past the security desk.

And out the glass doors.

The summer light hit him like a slap, bright and clear and sudden. His heart was pounding so loud he swore the receptionist probably heard it.

Then he saw it.

Parked just a few meters away.

That sleek black car. The one that shouldn't have made his chest tighten. But did.

Joon was inside.

Waiting.

And Tae-hyun without thinking, without speaking, without hesitation walked toward him like gravity had decided.

The car door hadn't even opened yet.

But Joon-won saw him.

That familiar frame, those fast steps, his hair slightly messy from rushing, tie a little loose at the collar. There was that crease between his brows again, the one he always wore when something mattered too much.

Joon didn't wait.

He opened his door and stepped out slowly, adjusting his jacket.

He'd barely taken one step onto the pavement before—

"You asshole!!!"

A body collided into his.

Tae-hyun slammed into his chest so fast it knocked the breath out of him. Arms flying up around Joon's neck, face burying deep into the side of it. His scent hit Joon hard—faint cologne, paper, and something warm and familiar underneath. His body was flush against Joon's, not an inch of space between them.

They stumbled back half a step.

"Tae—whoa—"

"You—fucking—ass—hole—ten—days—are you fucking kidding me?!" Tae-hyun hissed under his breath, voice muffled into Joon's neck as his grip tightened. "I get it, I do, but you really—no texts? Not even a fucking emoji? I thought maybe you'd—ugh, I don't know—died or gotten arrested or—what the fuck, Joon-won, seriously—"

He kept going. Words tumbling out, muttered and flustered, his breath brushing hot against Joon's skin. "I waited, I gave you space, I was mature—I even didn't text you! Like you asked, I was so fucking patient, and still—you, asshole, how dare—"

Joon started laughing. Low and rough and caught in his throat.

He couldn't help it.

God, he missed this.

He missed him.

"Tae—babe—" he muttered with a smirk, finally managing to wrap his arms around him. One around his waist, the other sliding up to the back of his neck, grounding him. "You're gonna make us fall over."

Tae-hyun didn't let go. If anything, he clung tighter, nuzzling in, nose brushing the edge of Joon's jaw now.

"Good," he muttered, half-growling. "If we fall, it's your fault. You deserve it."

Joon's eyes softened as he tilted his head slightly, resting his cheek against Tae's temple. The heat of the afternoon barely registered—he was too caught up in the way this man melted into him. Despite the complaints. Despite the cursing.

Or maybe because of it.

"I missed you," he whispered into Tae's hair.

Tae-hyun exhaled hard, like he'd been holding that breath for a week.

Then finally, he pulled back just enough to glare at Joon.

"Ten days," he said again, poking a finger into Joon's chest. "Ten. Do you know how many times I nearly opened our chat? Do you know how often I checked your damn profile picture just to see if it changed?"

"You really missed me that bad, huh?"

"Shut up."

Joon laughed again.

"Admit it," he teased, cupping Tae's cheek now with one hand, brushing his thumb slowly along the skin under his eye. "You were going crazy."

Tae rolled his eyes but didn't move away. He tilted his head just slightly into the touch just enough for Joon to catch it.

"I was—fine," he lied.

"Liar."

"Okay, maybe I wasn't fine. But you still—ten days, Joon. You could've said something."

"I know," Joon said, quieter now. "I wanted to. Every night."

Tae bit his bottom lip.

Joon leaned in, voice dropping as he said against the shell of Tae's ear, "But if you don't let go of me soon, we're going to end up making the company headlines."

That earned a reluctant smile from Tae-hyun.

"Oh my god, right," he mumbled, glancing around nervously now as if just remembering where they were. "We're literally in the parking lot."

"Exactly. And you're still in my arms."

"Your very warm arms," Tae said pointedly, adjusting his tie again.

Joon raised a brow. "That a complaint?"

Tae blinked. "…No."

With a grin, Joon finally nudged Tae gently toward the car. "Come on. Get in."

"Where are we going?"

"Not far," Joon said smoothly, hand brushing along the small of Tae's back as he opened the passenger door for him. "Just somewhere I can hold you properly. Without having to look over my shoulder."

Tae hesitated just long enough for his breath to catch in his chest, then slid into the seat without another word.

And Joon shut the door gently behind him.

The car ride wasn't long, but it felt like one of those moments that should last a little longer, windows down just enough to let the breeze in, music low, the faint scent of roasted beans from the café a few blocks ahead already making its way into the air.

Joon glanced over as Tae-hyun buckled his seatbelt with a little huff, arms crossed.

"You're still mad?"

"I'm not mad," Tae said immediately, his lips in a firm pout. "I'm just… disappointed. Betrayed. Emotionally neglected. And mildly offended."

Joon grinned. "That's a lot of big words for someone who launched himself into my arms five minutes ago."

"You're lucky I didn't punch you in the jaw first," Tae muttered under his breath, turning to look out the window like he wasn't talking to him.

Joon chuckled, resting one hand casually on the steering wheel and the other on the gearshift. "Should I have sent flowers? Maybe a handwritten apology? A dramatic voice memo?"

"No," Tae said quickly, then after a beat, added, "…Well, maybe the voice memo."

Joon's grin deepened.

Tae huffed again, uncrossing and re-crossing his arms in a way that made him look five years younger. "I just thought—like, I thought it was going to be a few days, you know? You said a few days, not ten. That's like double a few. That's more than a week. That's a vacation. A disappearance."

Joon let him talk. He didn't interrupt—just kept sneaking glances at him every other second. The rambling. The soft complaining. The way his voice kept catching like he was trying not to sound too emotional but couldn't help it.

He liked that. All of it.

"You done?" Joon finally asked after a pause, his voice playful, brow lifted.

"No," Tae muttered. "But we're almost at the coffee shop, so I'll spare you the next five paragraphs."

"How merciful of you."

"I am merciful."

Joon parked smoothly at the curb just across from the café and reached over, gently tapping Tae's thigh. "Come on, it's on me. Whatever you want."

Tae hesitated like he was still pretending to pout. "Even the most expensive thing on the menu?"

"Even the item they don't sell but you make up."

Tae cracked a smile, biting his lip as he opened the door. "In that case… I'll have one 'you're an asshole but I missed you' frappé."

Joon smirked, getting out and locking the car behind them. "Coming right up."

⸻

The coffee shop was quiet inside, tucked in a quieter side street, sunlight spilling through big windows. The hum of conversation was low, cozy. A couple of students, a man in a suit tapping away on a laptop. It smelled like caramel and cinnamon, and Tae immediately headed to a corner booth near the window while Joon took care of their orders.

Tae-hyun ended up with an iced caramel macchiato.

Joon just got black coffee.

"No sugar?" Tae asked with a suspicious squint as he sipped his drink.

"You're sweet enough for both of us," Joon replied easily, sliding into the seat across from him.

Tae rolled his eyes but his ears flushed slightly pink.

For a moment, they just sat there, drinks in hand, table between them, eyes flicking up and down like they didn't know which to ask first. But Joon was the one to gently push it forward.

"So," he said, resting his chin against his fist. "How've you been?"

Tae blinked. "Me?"

"You first," Joon said, voice soft. "Tell me everything. Work. Home. Your kid. You."

The directness made Tae's chest tighten a little. He looked down at his drink, swirling the straw lazily before answering.

"Work's fine," he started, casually. "Busy, as usual. I've been picking up a few extra hours here and there, just to keep moving. Distractions, you know?"

Joon nodded silently.

"My wife's… still the same," Tae continued. "Sweet. Caring. A little too hopeful sometimes." His fingers tightened just briefly around the cup. "She brought up the baby again last week. She's trying."

"Did you—?"

"We did. Once," Tae answered quietly. "But I told her we should use protection. Didn't want her to feel rejected, so I tried to… make it romantic. Turn it into something playful so she wouldn't take it the wrong way."

Joon's jaw flexed, but he said nothing yet.

Tae cleared his throat. "She didn't say anything, but I could tell she was disappointed."

A long pause hung between them.

Then Tae leaned back in the booth, lifting his gaze finally. "And you?"

Joon lifted a brow. "What about me?"

"You've been MIA for ten days," Tae said softly, "which is usually what people do when something big is happening. So I figured… I'd wait until now to ask."

He sipped his drink again and then quietly said, "Are you okay?"

Joon stared at him for a long second. The honesty in his voice. The concern. He didn't bring up the break. Or the fight. Or the fact that the last time they spoke, Joon had said he was going to talk to his wife.

Still, he didn't answer that part just yet.

"I'm better now," Joon said simply, smiling faintly. "Now that I've got my spoiled little brat back in my life."

Tae narrowed his eyes. "Spoiled?"

"You pouted all the way here."

"I didn't—"

"You cursed me out in my arms."

"You deserved that—"

"And you nearly cried."

"I DID NOT—"

"You almost snotted on me—"

"JOON—!"

Joon laughed again, full and deep.

Tae blushed furiously, clutching his drink with both hands now, sinking in his seat. "You're so annoying."

"You love it."

He did.

They both knew it.

Tae-hyun took another sip of his macchiato, arms crossed on the table, his body finally a little more relaxed now that the worst of his sulking had passed.

Then, in the middle of his next sip, he snorted.

Audibly.

The straw in his drink sputtered a little, and a few drops splashed onto the napkin beneath the cup. He pressed a hand over his mouth, shoulders shaking with sudden laughter.

Joon's eyes widened, smiling as he leaned forward with interest. "What?"

Tae waved a hand, trying to stop laughing, but his cheeks were already flushing with the effort.

"What?" Joon repeated, grinning now, elbow resting on the table. "What's so funny?"

"Sorry—sorry," Tae mumbled behind his hand. "I just remembered something stupid—God, okay—"

He wiped at his eyes like he was about to cry from laughing too hard. "Okay, so… the other day, I was home alone with my son, right? And I'm folding laundry in the living room while he's doing those activity sticker books on the floor."

Joon nodded, already smiling at the image.

"And suddenly, he looks up at me all serious and goes, 'Dad, when I grow up… I'm gonna marry a ninja dinosaur.'"

Joon blinked. "A what?"

"A ninja dinosaur," Tae repeated, grinning. "Completely straight-faced. And I said, 'Oh, okay… any particular reason why?' And he said—and I quote—'Because they're cool, and strong, and you need someone strong so they don't cry when you fart by accident.'"

Joon nearly choked on his coffee, laughing so hard his hand flew to his chest. "Are you serious?"

"I wish I wasn't," Tae said, now laughing with him. "He said I cried once when he farted too loud near my ear, and he didn't want that kind of drama in his future marriage."

Joon tilted his head back with a grin, laughter echoing low from his chest. "He's brutal."

"He is! I'm raising a menace."

"He sounds like you."

"Hey!"

Joon chuckled again, leaning closer over the table, chin propped on his palm now as he looked at Tae with the kind of fondness that was more obvious than either of them intended.

"I missed this," Joon said softly, almost to himself.

Tae caught it—he always did—but pretended not to hear it too clearly. Instead, he offered a little shrug, sipping again before continuing.

"And that's not even the worst of it. A couple days later, I was giving him a bath, and he randomly asked me if boys can have babies."

"Oh no," Joon said, already laughing.

"And I said, 'No, usually only women can.' And he thought about it for a second and then went, 'So how does Uncle Joon make babies then? He looks like he could.'"

Joon wheezed.

"No, stop—are you serious?"

"I swear," Tae said, shaking his head with a smile. "He said you had the muscles and the serious face, and in his head, those are baby-making qualifications."

Joon was red in the face now, clutching his coffee cup for support. "You need to keep that kid away from me."

"You're the one who gave him a dinosaur figurine with abs last month saying it's from Eun-woo," Tae shot back.

"It was educational."

"It was sculpted."

They both burst into laughter again.

For a moment, it felt like nothing outside the coffee shop existed. No confusion, no guilt, no weight of real-life complications—just them. Tae-hyun with his little stories and constant movement, Joon with his slow, amused glances and that soft look that hadn't left his eyes since they sat down.

It felt too good to ruin. So Joon decided, just for now, not to bring up the break. Not yet.

Instead, as Tae caught his breath again, Joon leaned in and asked, "Got any more?"

"More what?"

"Stories. About Min-jun. Or anything. You've clearly been keeping a whole comedy journal while I was gone."

Tae shrugged again, pretending to act cool, but his smile stayed.

"Well," he began, eyes flicking upward with a smirk, "there was this one time last week when he caught me looking moody on the couch and came over, handed me a gummy bear, and said, 'Here. This is medicine. It makes sad married people better.'"

Joon smiled so wide it ached. "He's smarter than both of us combined."

"Don't say that to his face," Tae said, giggling. "He'll use it against us in court one day."

Another laugh. Another sip. Another glance that lingered just a little longer.

Then Joon checked the time and softly said, "You've got fifteen minutes."

Tae's shoulders drooped. "Noooo…"

Joon smirked. "Want me to drive you back or drop you a block away so you can dramatically sprint into the building like a K-drama lead late for a meeting?"

Tae sighed dramatically, placing the back of his hand on his forehead playfully. "Drop me a block away. Let me live my truth."

"Done."

They stood up together, throwing away their cups and stepping back into the warm sun outside. Joon lingered just long enough by the passenger side door before Tae looked up at him and said softly:

"I really missed you."

It wasn't heavy. It wasn't loud.

But it was real.

Joon nodded once, reaching to ruffle his hair like a bratty older brother before tugging open the door. "Yeah," he murmured, almost too quiet to hear. "I missed you too, baby."