What Love Is Supposed to Mean

“Vanessa, what do I do?”

“What do you mean…?”

“I like you too much.”

“…….”

“I never meant to like you this much.”

Whenever Fren expressed affection like this, Vanessa normally felt overwhelmed with happiness.

But today, something faintly stung inside his chest.

Because—

“I love you.”

Fren’s lips were speaking love, but the eyes looking at Vanessa remained the same—calm, cool, emotionless, as if he were gazing at an object.

Vanessa couldn’t ignore it this time.

‘Why is that bothering me today?’

He was Fren’s masterpiece.

His s*ave.

Being treated like a possession was natural.

No one understood that better than Vanessa himself.

Until now, he had lived without questioning it, without thinking too deeply, and he planned to continue that way.

So Vanessa forced himself to meet Fren’s gaze and give the answer expected of him.

“I love you too.”

Their bodies leaned into one another like intertwining vines.

Fren kissed Vanessa, soft at first, then deeper, his hands wandering with familiar ease.

As his cold touch trailed against Vanessa’s skin, Vanessa tensed without meaning to.

Fren teased lightly.

“Are you scared?”

Vanessa shook his head, remembering what had happened earlier that day.

He had already anticipated something like this would happen sooner or later.

He was simply… nervous.

Fren smiled gently at Vanessa’s honest reaction.

“Good.”

He drew Vanessa closer, removing the last of their clothing.

Vanessa squeezed his eyes shut, his breath trembling.

Fren’s touch grew more intimate—slow, exploratory, purposeful.

And although nothing was painful, nothing was familiar either.

It was overwhelming in a way that made Vanessa bury his face in the sheets.

Fren chuckled quietly at Vanessa’s flustered posture.

“So shy today?”

Vanessa bit his lips, unable to answer.

Fren continued with patient, deliberate care, as if memorizing every response, learning everything that made Vanessa tense or soften.

But even with Fren’s gentleness, Vanessa couldn’t shake the sense of being examined—handled—rather than loved.

That realization stung worse than any physical sensation.

Then Fren paused, lifting Vanessa’s chin so their eyes met.

“You’re shaking.”

“S-sorry… I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s alright.”

Fren stroked Vanessa’s cheek, as if trying to soothe him.

“I’ll take care of everything.”

Those words, spoken so naturally, made Vanessa feel both safe and terribly small.

Moments later, Fren guided Vanessa into his arms, holding him tightly—firmly enough that Vanessa felt breathless.

“See?

You’re fine.”

Vanessa wasn’t fine.

But lying to Fren was something he had long perfected.

“Yes… I’m alright.”

Tears unexpectedly welled in Vanessa’s eyes.

Not from pain, but from something more tangled—confusion, fear, longing, affection, emptiness.

Fren brushed the tears with his thumb.

“Vanessa, you’re really beautiful.”

“…….”

For a moment, Vanessa wished desperately that Fren’s eyes would match his words.

But they didn’t.

They remained calm, detached, unchanging.

As if admiring a painting he owned.

Fren slowly lay Vanessa down and settled beside him.

After a long silence, he murmured:

“Moments like this make me sad that you’re human.”

“…….”

“Our child would’ve been beautiful.”

Vanessa couldn’t respond.

He was still too dazed, his mind floating, unable to tell what he should feel.

Fren traced Vanessa’s features slowly, admiringly.

“Truly beautiful.”

Then he kissed Vanessa’s cheek and pulled him into a tight embrace.

“My beloved Vanessa.”

“…….”

Fren repeated himself when Vanessa stayed silent.

“I really do love you.”

Even without an answer, Fren didn’t seem bothered.

It was the first time he had ever felt this peaceful even with a silent s*ave in his arms.

He savored Vanessa’s warmth before lifting his head again.

“Let’s go again.”

“…What?”

Fren began moving before Vanessa could gather his thoughts.