The Moment I Realized I Loved Him—I Lost Control

The studio was dark, unlike its usual appearance.

Most of the lights were off, starting from the entrance, and only the space where the canvas stood was illuminated by a soft glow.

Jeongha stepped inside very carefully, like an explorer setting foot on unknown land.

Haeyoon, who had opened the door ahead of him, had somehow retreated behind him.

It wasn’t just a painting.

Jeongha realized he had been thinking very wrongly.

To an artist, a single work is an entire world.

Why had he so lightly dismissed that weight?

Until now, this painting had only held value for Jeongha as a ‘gift’ from Haeyoon.

More than what the painting was, the act of Haeyoon showing it ‘to him’ ‘first’ was what mattered.

But faced with it now, that wasn’t it.

Rather, Jeongha had been missing the most important meaning.

Jeongha walked slowly toward the canvas placed at the far end.

It was barely any distance, yet each step was difficult.

It felt like a space with a different gravity.

Swallowing dryly several times, Jeongha finally reached just behind the canvas.

And at last, he faced Seo Haeyoon’s world, which he would never have seen if he hadn’t walked here himself.

“Ah…….”

A gasp of admiration escaped between his parted lips, unbidden.

The scene unfolding before his eyes was completely unexpected.

Baek Jeongha was not well-versed in art, but he at least knew what kind of atmosphere Seo Haeyoon painted.

He had seen the paintings on the sales site, and all the ones on Haeyoon’s social media, repeatedly.

A festival of beautiful light.

That was the feeling, in a word, of Haeyoon’s paintings.

The colors that shattered brilliantly on the canvas, though oil paint, sometimes looked as fresh as watercolors, earning much praise.

But what about the painting before him now?

It was something that overwhelmed a person’s emotions to their core.

The darkness of the deep sea or the void of deep space instantly threw Jeongha into an unknown world.

There, Baek Jeongha was a solitary drifter, a lonely castaway.

The despair of being unable to seek help from anywhere, in any direction, instantly devoured Jeongha.

Then, a streak of light caught Jeongha’s fear-filled eyes.

Even in that place, which seemed to consist only of pitch-black darkness, there was light.

Jeongha’s eyes, which had been growing dark, slowly followed that light.

The light that fiercely illuminated the universe, dark enough to swallow the whole world, at first glance seemed like mere scattered fragments, but looking closely, one could see it held light within.

It was a beautiful, deep green light.

In that moment, the words Seo Haeyoon had once confessed to him came to Jeongha’s mind.

_’I’ve never been to space… but still, it felt like I was the only one abandoned in this vast universe….’*

And Baek Jeongha realized.

This universe spread across the canvas was Seo Haeyoon’s universe.

The frightening, overwhelming world where the broken, shattered him had drifted endlessly.

The despair Jeongha felt before the painting must have been the feelings of the abandoned Seo Haeyoon.

Jeongha’s eyes once again captured the light pushing back the darkness alone.

That light was not much different from the natural color of Baek Jeongha’s own eyes, as if it had been there from the start.

_’But I didn’t give up, I somehow endured, and then I met you, like a rescue ship.’*

The bolt of realization shook Baek Jeongha’s soul.

Now, this enormous painting looked different to Jeongha’s eyes.

This was not a terrifying deep space.

Nor was it a painting depicting the despair of the painter, Seo Haeyoon.

What Seo Haeyoon wanted to express was a kind of salvation and progression.

It was a tribute to Seo Haeyoon himself, who, even in despair, did not give up and endured to the end, and at the same time, a praise for the being who ran to the world no one else could reach and became Haeyoon’s only light—namely, Baek Jeongha.

Jeongha very slowly turned his body to face Seo Haeyoon, who was looking at him with an anxious face.

Why Haeyoon had wanted to show him this painting like a gift, why he had wanted Jeongha not to see it until it was finished—all the puzzle pieces fit.

This was a painting for Baek Jeongha.

Meaning the most anticipated piece at Haeyoon’s first exhibition was completed solely inspired by Baek Jeongha.

Their eyes met quietly in the air.

All surrounding light faded, and in this moment, in this universe, only the two of them existed.

It was meaningless to question what this painting meant to Seo Haeyoon.

There was no need to wonder if it was a grand confession of love towards Baek Jeongha or just an expression of gratitude.

For Baek Jeongha, the painting itself was enough; no other explanation was needed.

Even if it wasn’t love, he wouldn’t have minded.

Because here existed feelings deeper and more complex than love, feelings Seo Haeyoon would never be able to shake off for the rest of his life.

His head spun.

In his life, Jeongha had been loved by countless people, had been adored by them, and had received confessions from as many, but none had been this intense.

How could one not love a person like this?

Even if the feelings Seo Haeyoon put into this painting weren’t love, wasn’t it only natural to fall in love with someone who offered such a brilliant universe to him?

Baek Jeongha thought.

Perhaps, to the driver of the rescue ship who found the castaway in space, that moment might also have been like salvation.

That quietly drifting castaway might have been the very existence the rescue ship had been desperately hoping to find all along.

“How is it…?”

After a long time, Haeyoon cautiously asked.

Jeongha bit his lip.

Asking how it was after giving a gift like this was like shooting someone and asking if it hurt.

Instead of answering, Jeongha gasped for breath.

His heart, which seemed to have stopped from the shock of realizing the painting’s meaning, now seemed to beat several times faster.

Heat spread through his body instantly, and at the same time, Jeongha’s pheromones erupted like a storm.

“W-wait… haa….”

Feeling dizzy, Jeongha tapped his head with his hand and shook it vigorously.

His body was strange.

He wasn’t releasing pheromones of his own will.

Though it wouldn’t affect Haeyoon, a Beta, his uncontrolled release was definitely abnormal.

Even for Baek Jeongha, who had stronger control over his pheromones than most Alphas, this was a problem.

“Jeongha, what’s wrong?

Are you okay?”

“Don’t, don’t come near me…!”

Worried about Jeongha, who seemed unwell, Haeyoon tried to approach, but stopped at Jeongha’s shout, which was like a scream.

Jeongha kept backing away, increasing the distance.

A rut?

Warning lights flashed in his mind.

He was taking suppressants regularly, and as someone who had rarely experienced an unexpected rut like this, it was hard to understand, but there was no other way to explain his symptoms.

‘f*ck….’

Jeongha cursed inwardly.

Rut or not, the definition of the symptoms wasn’t the important thing.

The problem was that Baek Jeongha was aroused, his desires were raging beyond his control, and the object of that desire was Seo Haeyoon.

“Jeongha, look at me.

You look really unwell.

Are you sick?”

Without knowing his turmoil, Seo Haeyoon closed the distance Jeongha had barely managed to create and asked.

His voice, full of affection and concern, was not helpful at all.

If he were an Omega, he would have been terrified in front of an Alpha in this state, but Seo Haeyoon, a Beta, knew nothing.

What Baek Jeongha could do to him, how dangerous the situation was—he truly knew nothing.

“Listen… hoo… listen to me carefully.”

Jeongha said, desperately trying not to lose his grip on reason.

His mouth was parched, and an unbearable thirst washed over him.

The smell of paint filling the space, stinging his nose since earlier, kept clouding his vision.

“My body is… not in a good state right now.”

“Then look at me.

What’s wrong, huh?

Let’s go to the hospital now.”

“No.

No, that’s not it….”

Even though he had done nothing, Jeongha’s lower body was already swollen painfully.

Heat rose through his body, and he could feel his breath growing hotter.

Jeongha slowly turned towards the exit and continued.

“I think… I’m in rut.”

“Uh…?”

“So please… don’t come near me, just stay there.

Please.”

Jeongha was almost begging.

He instinctively knew.

That one wrong move now could cause Haeyoon an irreparable wound.

Even if it wasn’t an actual rut, it didn’t matter.

In this state, he couldn’t control himself enough.

Jeongha remembered Haeyoon from that day, frightened and tearfully saying no.

He was someone with such deep wounds; he couldn’t be any different now.

Back then, thankfully, Jeongha had been able to come to his senses, but now he couldn’t be sure.

He was so afraid he might forcibly embrace a crying, resisting Seo Haeyoon that he felt like he was going crazy.

“I’ll go back first… I’ll contact you after I get back.

Stay there, just stay there until I leave.”

Jeongha moved towards the door, keeping as far from Haeyoon as possible.

Getting out of this studio was the priority.

He had to get away, at least from this damned smell of paint that was driving him mad.

“I’m sorry….”

The apology, like a sigh, was sincere.

How absurd must Haeyoon have felt?

He prepared a wonderful gift, invited him over, and instead of saying thank you, the Alpha went into heat and threatened him—it was the worst.

Self-loathing, fear, and yet, still, the lingering excitement tangled together, choking Jeongha.

Just as he finally reached the door and was about to open it and step outside.

“…Seo Haeyoon?”

Haeyoon, who had somehow come right up to him, slammed the slightly opened door shut and faced Jeongha.

“Don’t go.”

Seo Haeyoon said.

His voice, like an ocean swell, seemed to be an auditory hallucination.

Was it an illusion?

Had he completely lost his mind?

As Jeongha seriously considered his condition, Seo Haeyoon, who hadn’t dissipated or disappeared, spoke again.

“It’s okay… so don’t go.”