Kiss Me Like You’re Not Married.

Joon opened the door for Tae, his fingers lingering a moment on the edge of the frame before he slid inside. The warmth of the car was immediate against the cool evening air, the faint scent of leather and Joon's cologne mixing in the confined space. Tae closed the door softly, turning to face him.

"So," Tae started, voice low and cautious, "will you… call me again? Like before? Or do you still need your break?"

Joon's eyes flickered with something unreadable for a beat, then a slow, confident smile curved his lips. "I'll start calling you every day now. No more breaks." His voice held a soft edge, as if promising something that was both a threat and a comfort.

Tae's heart picked up the hint, but he kept his expression guarded. "Every day, huh?"

"Every day." Joon repeated, leaning back against the seat, fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel.

Tae bit his lip, then glanced out the window before looking back. "So… you'll be at the apartment from now on?"

Joon's smile tightened just a little, not quite amused, but not tense either. "I'll be around. You'll know where to find me."

The words landed between them, heavy but unspoken. Tae's chest tightened with the implication, the break with Joon's wife, the shift they both knew was happening but hadn't said out loud. Tae's lips curved in a small, teasing grin, though his eyes narrowed mockingly. "So you already told her then?"

Joon's eyes gleamed in the dim light, a spark of victory hidden beneath that calm mask. "Maybe."

Tae's smile faltered for a moment, then he folded his arms, feigning annoyance. "You just disappear like that, you know. It's annoying."

"But you missed me." Joon's voice dropped an octave, and he reached over, brushing Tae's hand with the back of his fingers. "Cutely, even."

Tae tried not to melt, but a small laugh escaped despite himself. "Don't get cocky."

The ride grew quiet, the tension simmering comfortably between them. When they pulled up outside Tae's company building, Joon killed the engine and turned toward him.

Before Tae could even reach for the door handle, Joon's hand cupped his cheek, his thumb brushing lightly along Tae's jaw. Then, almost gently but full of possessive intent, he leaned in and stole a kiss.. brief but electric, leaving Tae breathless and heart hammering.

"Go," Joon whispered, voice husky. "I'll call or text you later."

Tae nodded, fingers still tingling where Joon had touched him, and slipped out into the night. The door shut softly behind him, but the memory of that kiss stayed with him.. warm, alive, and full of promise.

.

.

Tae-hyun stepped out of the car still feeling the ghost of Joon-won's kiss against his lips.

The city air felt softer somehow, like something had cracked open and let a little light in. He didn't realize he was smiling until he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the glass doors of the lobby. He cleared his throat, tried to wipe it off his face, but it clung like warmth after rain.

His phone buzzed before he could reach the elevator.

Joon-Won:

'Miss you already, have a good day at work.. Tae.'

Tae-hyun froze for half a second in the middle of the polished marble floor. His heart did this dumb little skip, and he had to swallow hard to keep himself from grinning like a teenager.

He rode the elevator up to his office with that text still open, thumb hovering over the keyboard. But instead of replying right away, he just read it again. And again.

The apartment. Joon had said he'd be there more often now. Tae wasn't stupid. He knew what that meant or at least, he wanted to believe he did. If Joon was back there, with groceries and clothes instead of guilt and silence, it meant something had shifted. Something real.

And Tae-hyun let himself hold onto that for the rest of the day like a secret. Like a soft, warm thing only he knew how to protect.

⸻

Meanwhile, Joon-won pulled into a small underground garage beneath a quiet residential building. He'd stopped at a store on the way back from dropping Tae off, grabbing basics, eggs, fruit, a few packs of ramyeon, green tea, cigarettes, and a couple bottles of water to shove into the empty fridge. He also grabbed a few bottles of liquor for the days he felt like it. He carried a folded paper bag with fresh clothes in one arm, and a separate small bag from a jewelry shop tucked underneath.

The apartment door creaked open.

He hadn't been back in weeks.

It smelled faintly of clean sheets and stale air. Quiet, undisturbed. As he stepped inside, the silence settled around him like a second skin. He kicked off his shoes and went straight to the kitchen, flicking the lights on one by one. Then, methodically, he began filling the fridge.

There was something satisfying in the simplicity, stacking cold water bottles into neat rows, placing fruit in the lower drawer, lining instant noodles in the cupboard like someone might be coming over tomorrow.

Maybe someone would.

Once he finished, he took the paper bag into the bedroom and hung his clothes: dress shirts, a few ties, that one sweater he always thought looked good on him, especially when he rolled the sleeves up.

Then he pulled out the smaller bag.

The silver studs were minimal, but heavy in his palm. He stood in front of the mirror for a while, head slightly tilted, threading one into each pierced ear. The last time he'd worn earrings was when he promised Tae he would on their date.

But Tae had said something about them that night on the rooftop. Said they looked good. Said he liked them.

Joon turned his head left, then right. His hair was slightly tousled, dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar. He looked… different. Still himself, but not quite the version he showed the world.

He left the earrings in.

A moment later, he pulled out his phone and typed a message to Ha-eun. It took longer than he expected to word it right.

Joon-Won:

'I've left for now. I'll be at the apartment for a while. But I'll check in every day. If you ever need anything — for real — I'm still here. Always will be, no matter what happens between us.'

The message sat unsent for a moment. Then he hit send and set the phone down.

He walked into the bathroom and peeled his clothes off slowly.. tired now, the good kind, the kind that comes after emotional honesty. The steam rose quickly as he turned on the water, and for the first time in days, he stood beneath it without rushing, letting the heat bleed through his muscles.

When he came out, hair damp and sweatpants hanging low on his hips, he didn't bother with a shirt. He padded barefoot across the wooden floor, slid the window open, lit a cigarette, and let his body melt into the couch with the TV on low something mindless, just background noise. His phone was on the armrest beside him. He kept checking it. Then pretending not to check it. Then checking again.

It was late when it rang.

A video call.

Tae-hyun.

Joon blinked once, a little surprised. But he answered.

The screen blinked to life, and it took Joon-won a second to realize what he was looking at.

Tae-hyun's backyard was softly lit, a warm garden light over the wall, gentle hums of distant traffic in the air. The camera faced upward slightly, set on a small outdoor table. There was a half-full glass of something beside the phone, maybe wine, maybe just water. But it wasn't the drink that caught Joon's attention.

It was Tae.

He was sitting back in a patio chair, legs curled up, wearing a slightly oversized T-shirt, one of those worn, stretched-out ones that dipped loose around the neck and clung in all the wrong (right) places. His dark hair was a soft mess over his forehead, slightly damp like he'd showered not long ago. He hadn't shaved either. A little shadow clung to his jaw.

He looked… calm. Still. Maybe even lonely.

Joon picked up his phone and set it down on his own coffee table, the low one in the middle of his living room. He sat on the couch, forearms resting on his knees, cigarette in hand the quiet kind of posture that said he wasn't in a rush to speak. Just watch.

Tae glanced at the screen and smirked. "You always look like that when you call people?"

Joon cocked a brow. "Like what?"

"Like you're about to interrogate someone," Tae murmured. "Or kiss them."

Joon didn't blink. "Maybe both."

Tae blinked once, slow.. that same look he always gave when Joon caught him off guard and he didn't want to admit it. Then he looked away briefly, tapping the side of his glass with one finger.

"It's weird seeing you like this," he said finally. "In real time."

"You mean without pretending I'm busy?"

"No," Tae said, quieter now. "I mean… being with you without being with you."

The words hit Joon harder than he expected.

He sat back slowly, dragging one palm down his bare chest. The apartment felt warmer now or maybe it was the way Tae was curled up on his screen, looking like he belonged somewhere close. Somewhere reachable.

"I thought you'd be asleep by now," Joon said.

"I tried. Couldn't."

"Because of me?"

Tae met his gaze through the screen. "Obviously."

Joon tilted his head, watching the way the garden light caught in Tae's eyes. "You're not mad anymore?"

"I'm still mad," Tae said, but his voice was soft. Teasing. "Just too tired to stay mad."

They sat in silence for a moment. Joon took another drag from his cigarette, the ember flaring bright, and Tae watched the glow like it was hypnotic.

"I like watching you smoke," Tae admitted, voice almost lazy.

Joon's lips twitched. "Yeah?"

"You always look… dangerous when you do it."

Joon chuckled, leaning forward again, arms back on his knees. "You're the only person who keeps calling me that like it's a compliment."

"It is," Tae said, leaning his chin into his palm. His T-shirt slipped slightly off one shoulder, exposing smooth skin. "I mean… like I said before, You always look like you're about to ruin something."

"Maybe I am."

"You already did," Tae whispered.

That made Joon pause.

His gaze sharpened. "What did I ruin?"

Tae hesitated, then smiled a faint, pained one. "Whatever peace I had before I met you."

Joon dropped the cigarette in the ashtray and leaned closer to the screen, his voice low now, like a confession.

"I'm not at peace either, Tae-hyun."

Their eyes locked through the glass.

The only sound was the quiet hum of the TV in the background and the soft wind rustling through Tae's garden trees.

"You really gonna stay at the apartment now?" Tae asked, not fully looking at the screen.

"I said I would."

"You didn't say why."

"I didn't need to," Joon replied.

Tae bit his bottom lip slightly, then let out a tiny laugh. "So that's it? You just… left?"

"I left the house," Joon clarified. "Not the marriage. Not yet. But I told her I needed time. I told her the truth."

Tae's expression changed, just slightly, the corners of his mouth dipping into something more vulnerable. "What part of the truth?"

Joon didn't flinch.

"That I'm tired. That I've been thinking about someone but I didn't say it directly I think she got it though. That I don't feel like the same man I was a year ago."

The pause that followed wasn't silence, it was heavy, humming between them like a current.

Tae stared at the screen like he could reach through it. "That someone… was me?"

Joon didn't answer. But his gaze said everything.

And Tae-hyun looked away again, smiling without meaning to.

"You're going to make it worse," he said. "Calling me like this. Looking like that."

"Looking like what?"

"Like you want to touch me," Tae murmured.

"I do."

It was said plainly. No drama. No teasing.

Just raw honesty.

Tae exhaled slowly, then reached forward and turned the camera slightly so the view shifted, his legs stretched out, bare calves on the chair, the hem of the oversized shirt riding up a little.

He didn't say anything.

Joon stared.

"You're not helping," he said.

"I wasn't trying to."

Joon leaned back into the couch with a groan, rubbing his jaw. "You want me to hang up?"

"No."

"Then stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you'd let me do anything I wanted to you," Joon murmured.

Tae's throat bobbed.

His voice was quieter now. "Would you?"

Joon nodded slowly, his voice dropping into something rough. "Fuck yes."

The tension sat between them like heat.

But neither of them pushed past the edge, not yet.

Eventually, Tae laid back again, pulling the camera toward him. His voice had softened.

"You gonna fall asleep on the couch?"

"Probably."

"You look tired."

"I'm not. Just staring."

"At what?"

Joon smiled faintly. "You."

Tae let out a breathy little laugh, barely there. "You're such a liar."

"I don't lie to you."

Another pause.

The air had changed. Still charged, but softer now. Deeper.

"I like your earrings," Tae whispered again, half-asleep. "Keep them in."

"I will," Joon said.

They stayed like that — quiet, screens glowing, bodies far but somehow close enough. Joon didn't end the call. Neither did Tae.

.

.

.

Tae-hyun hadn't realized how late or early it was until the dark navy of the sky behind him began to soften, bleeding slowly into gray.

His phone still sat on the garden table, angled up at his face, and Joon-won hadn't moved from his spot on the couch, either. The cigarette was long gone now, stubbed into the ashtray. His posture had changed, slouched deeper into the cushions, one arm now resting lazily on the couch back, the other holding a half-full glass of something dark. His shirt was still off, sweatpants low on his hips, and his earrings caught the faint glow of the apartment TV light every time he shifted.

They had talked about everything and nothing, childhood stories, music they've been listening to lately, what kind of parent they thought they'd be before actually becoming one. Joon had admitted he used to think he'd be distant, maybe even cold.

"You're not," Tae had said, quietly. "You're just careful."

"And what about you?"

Tae had smiled, lips curling lazily. "I thought I'd be cool and calm. Turns out I'm the paranoid dad that stares at the baby monitor every ten minutes."

Joon had laughed, really laughed.. not just with his mouth, but his whole face, lines softening around his eyes.

And now the moment felt suspended, fragile and rare. Like something neither of them wanted to break.

Tae yawned softly, adjusting in his seat as the garden breeze picked up.

"You tired?" Joon asked, voice scratchy now.

"Not yet," Tae murmured. "I like hearing your voice like this."

"Like what?"

"Unfiltered."

Joon tilted his head, blinking slowly. "It's always unfiltered with you."

Before Tae could answer, the sliding door behind him creaked open.

Tiny footsteps padded across the wooden floor of the deck.

"Appa…"

Tae turned, already smiling.

Min-jun was there, barely awake, hair a tangled mess, dragging a soft fleece blanket across the floor. He blinked up at his father with bleary eyes, then rubbed one of them sleepily.

"I had a dream," he mumbled, stepping closer.

"Yeah?" Tae leaned down, scooping him up gently. "Come here."

Min-jun curled instantly into his father's chest, blanket clutched in one fist, thumb resting close to his mouth.

Joon watched through the screen, something warm and hollow blooming in his chest all at once.

"Want to say hi to someone?" Tae asked, adjusting the phone angle a little.

Min-jun blinked at the screen. Then his eyes lit up. "Uncle Joon!"

Joon sat up straighter, chuckling. "Hey, buddy. You're awake early."

"I saw light," Min-jun said, pointing sleepily toward the sky. "Is Eun-woo sleeping?"

"Yeah," Joon replied, eyes soft. "He's probably snoring right now."

Min-jun giggled. "He snores funny."

Tae chuckled, bouncing him slightly. "He does, huh?"

"I miss him," Min-jun added with a pout. "Tell him I have a new dinosaur."

"What kind?" Joon asked, genuinely intrigued.

Min-jun perked up. "A big one. With a long neck. It goes like—" He made a sound that resembled both a trumpet and a growl.

Tae blinked. "Was that a dinosaur or a bus?"

"I dunno," Min-jun said, giggling again.

Joon leaned back into the couch, a slow smile stretching across his face. "I'll tell him. And maybe next time, you can show him yourself."

"Okay!" Min-jun chirped.

Just then, the glass door behind them slid open again.

Seo-yeon stepped out, barefoot in a soft robe, hair in a loose bun. She froze for a second at the sight, Tae sitting with their son in his lap, phone angled up toward his face, and the faint sound of another man's voice echoing from it.

She squinted. "Who are you talking to love?"

Before Tae could answer, Min-jun grinned. "Uncle Joon!"

Seo-yeon blinked.

Then she stepped forward slowly, peering at the screen. "Joon-won?"

Joon offered a quiet smile. "Morning, noona."

She raised a brow but said nothing at first, sitting down on the edge of the deck beside Tae. She eyed her husband for a beat, as if wanting to ask more, why are you still awake? Why him? What is this, really?

But the moment was too quiet. Too soft.

So she let it go.

"You look awful," she said to Joon instead, teasing.

"You're not wrong."

"I assume you didn't sleep either?"

Joon smiled faintly. "Not yet."

She glanced at her husband again, Tae's arm wrapped around their son, the both of them now watching Joon through the screen with sleepy smiles and something in her face softened.

"Min-jun," she said, brushing the boy's hair. "Did you tell Uncle Joon your dinosaur story?"

"He already did," Tae said. "Sounded more like a bus."

"You sound like a bus," Min-jun mumbled, snuggling deeper into his father's chest.

Joon snorted. Seo-yeon laughed.

And for a minute, just a minute, the world felt light.

Warm.

Uncomplicated.

Even if everything beneath the surface wasn't.

Seo-yeon leaned back on her hands. "You guys stayed up all night talking?"

Tae didn't answer. He just tilted his head and smiled at her, a little sheepishly.

She nodded once, filing that away for later.

But for now, she smiled too. "I'll make some coffee."

As she stood and walked back inside, Min-jun began dozing off again against Tae's chest.

Joon stared through the screen.

And Tae looked back at him, gently rocking their son.

Neither of them said anything. But the silence now… felt full.

Joon's hand drifted toward the screen, brushing the edge of the image like he could feel it.

Tae-hyun shifted his phone slightly on the table as Min-jun breathed heavily against his chest, slipping into sleep again after waking up again for a second to look at his daddy, tiny fingers still clutching his blanket.

On the screen, Joon hadn't moved much. He still sat on the couch in his living room, shirtless, forearms resting on his knees, cigarette now long gone, that same focused expression in his eyes like he hadn't looked away from Tae even once in hours.

Tae glanced down at the boy against him, then up again. His voice dropped, a low whisper just above the early morning hush.

"I should go," he murmured.

Joon just nodded slowly.

Tae hesitated, eyes flickering, and then leaned a little closer toward the screen, as if Joon could somehow feel the words on his skin.

"Keep the door open," he whispered, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

Joon's brows lifted slightly, then his mouth twitched upward, the kind of grin that was all teeth and unspoken promise. He gave a slow, lazy thumbs-up in reply, mouthing: 'Yes, sir.'

Tae fought the blush creeping up his neck.

"Good luck," Joon said then, eyes flickering toward the glass doors where Seo-yeon had gone. "With your wife."

Tae blinked.

"She's smart," Joon added, softer. "She probably wants to ask questions."

A beat.

"Don't lie," he said, voice firmer now. "You don't need to. Nothing happened between us."

Tae nodded, swallowing thickly. "Okay."

"I'll text you," Joon said, his tone relaxing again. "Or you can text me. Or just show up."

"I might."

"I hope you do."

The call ended with one last look, heavy and full, like neither of them really wanted to hang up.

Tae stood slowly, holding his sleeping son carefully, the phone now dark and quiet in his hand. He nudged the sliding glass door open with his foot and walked inside, barefoot on the cool tiles, moving gently toward the living room couch.

He had just laid Min-jun down and tucked the blanket over him when he heard the clink of a coffee cup from the kitchen.

Seo-yeon leaned against the counter, sipping, watching him with something unreadable in her expression, part amusement, part curiosity, and something warmer beneath.

"You stayed up all night talking to him?"

Tae rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah."

She raised a brow.

He shifted awkwardly. "He… called."

"Mm." She tilted her head, lips twitching into a small smile. "It was a video call, Tae. You were the one talking with your hands like you forgot you were on camera."

He opened his mouth, then closed it again.

She pushed off the counter and walked over, still holding her cup.

"Just so you know," she said casually, "Ha-eun called me last night."

Tae's shoulders straightened instantly. "She—?"

"She told me about the break," Seo-yeon said, pausing beside the couch. "Joon moved out, right?"

Tae blinked, visibly stunned. "So… she told you before Joon told me?"

"Apparently," she said, smiling into her coffee. "I think she was trying to vent. Said something about needing space, that he told her he will leave and get his head on straight."

Tae stared at her. "You're not mad?"

"About what?" she asked, cocking a brow. "That your best friend's marriage is on the rocks or that mine might be?"

"Seo—"

She leaned closer and gently cupped his cheek, thumb brushing under his eye. "Relax. I'm not mad. Just… amused."

Tae blinked again.

"Do you really think I wouldn't notice?" she added, stepping back a little. "The way you talk about him. The way your whole face changes when he texts you. Or how you somehow know what shirt he wore even if you weren't there?"

Tae's lips parted. "That doesn't mean—"

"You're in love with him?" she offered.

He froze.

She took another sip of her coffee, letting the silence stretch.

"I'm not—" Tae stammered, clearly flustered now. "We haven't even— I mean, we didn't—"

"I know nothing's happened," she said, cutting him off gently. "But that doesn't mean it's not happening."

He sat down slowly on the couch beside Min-jun, shoulders tense.

Seo-yeon leaned against the armrest, watching him.

"You remember that time," she said, almost lazily, "when we were at the park with Min-jun and I told you 'He's your type.'?"

Tae's ears burned.

"You got so defensive," she laughed. "But look at you now. Blushing like a teenager."

"I'm not blushing," he muttered.

"You are." She grinned, then softened. "Tae… I know you. I love you. That doesn't mean I don't see the things you try to hide."

He looked down at his lap, silent.

"Ha-eun asked me to keep an eye on you," she added more quietly, "like she was worried that you'd… I don't know, seduce Joon."

Tae laughed under his breath, but it wasn't exactly amused.

"I told her I'd try," Seo-yeon went on, "but honestly… I'm not worried."

Tae glanced up.

"You're a grown man. You know what you're doing. And if this—whatever this is—is something you have to go through to figure yourself out, then I'll let you."

"You'll… let me?"

She gave a half-shrug. "Would you rather I storm out and scream and cry? Pretend we didn't both know something was shifting a long time ago?"

Tae stared at her, his throat tight.

"I just want you to be honest," she said softly, placing her cup down. "With yourself first. Then… with me."

A long silence passed between them.

Then Tae whispered, almost too quiet to hear, "I don't know what I'm doing."

"I know," she said. "But you'll figure it out."

He looked at her then, really looked at her, and the depth of her patience cracked something small and tender inside him.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"Don't thank me yet," she said with a teasing smirk. "I am going to grill you later. Like what exactly did he whisper to make you smile like that this morning?"

He flushed again.

"Shut up," he muttered, burying his face in his hands.

She just laughed, warm and loving, and still, somehow, letting him go.