Chapter Text
Five years later, in the heart of Lucerne
The morning light spilled through the large windows, casting a golden hue over the rustic yet elegant kitchen. Outside, Lake Lucerne stretched into the horizon, its surface shimmering beneath the tender embrace of spring, whispering against the shore like a secret meant only for them.
The scent of coffee curled through the air, stirring Jaewon from the last wisps of sleep. It wasn’t the gentle aroma of coffee alone, but the nostalgic scent of steamed egg, golden and steaming in an earthenware bowl, paired with crispy pan-fried kimchi and warm, glistening rice. The kind of breakfast that tasted like home, like the quiet devotion of a man who never forgot where he came from.
Jaewon stirred awake, groggy but utterly content, stretching like a cat beneath the warmth of the blankets. Kanghyuk’s oversized t-shirt, soft, well-worn, smelling like him draped over Jaewon’s frame. He took his time pulling himself from bed, savoring the feeling of lingering heat against his skin, the faint traces of last night still painted there.
He padded barefoot across the wooden floor, drawn by the steady rhythm of movement in the kitchen. Kanghyuk stood at the stove, sleeves rolled up, effortlessly domestic, the kind of beauty that made Jaewon’s chest feel too full. Jaewon leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching Kanghyuk with a lazy smile.
For a moment, the quiet weight of love settled over him. Kanghyuk looked devastatingly good like this. Barefoot, in loose grey sweatpants that hung just low enough to tease, his toned arms flexing slightly as he stirred something in the pan and the morning glow made his tan skin look impossibly warm.
Without a word, he crossed the space between them, slipping his arms around Kanghyuk’s waist from behind, he pressed himself against the warmth of him. The steady rise and fall of Kanghyuk’s breath, the way he instinctively leaned back into Jaewon’s touch, it all felt like home.
“Morning, chef,” Jaewon mumbled sleepily, lips brushing the space between Kanghyuk’s shoulder blades.
Kanghyuk chuckled, setting the spatula down just long enough to cover Jaewon’s hand with his own. “You just woke up, and you’re already clinging?”
Jaewon hummed, pressing a lazy, lingering kiss on Kanghyuk’s shoulder. The scent of fresh coffee and something distinctly Kanghyuk, clean, warm and safe lingered in the air. "Mmhmm. You’re warm."
Kanghyuk shook his head with a fond smile. "You're just using me as a heater."
Jaewon grinned against his back, fingers lightly tracing the waistband of Kanghyuk’s sweatpants. "Maybe. But also, I like watching you cook. You look hot when you're domestic."
Kanghyuk turned slightly, eyebrows raised in amusement. “You say that as if I don’t always look hot.”
Jaewon smirks. “Well okay. Fair point”
With a gentle nudge, Kanghyuk guided him toward the table. “Sit. Breakfast is almost ready.”
Jaewon flopped into the chair, watching as Kanghyuk brought the food over. A spread so intimately familiar, it made Jaewon’s chest ache. The kind of breakfast you make for someone you love, where each dish was meant to be shared, savored, understood.
He picked up his chopsticks, stirring his rice absently before glancing up. “Hyung, for someone who supposedly ‘took a break’ from acting, you look like you’re auditioning for a cooking show.”
Kanghyuk arched his brow, setting his chopsticks down with a smirk. “And for someone who’s on his honeymoon, you seem more interested in me than the view outside.”
Jaewon tilted his head. “That’s because the best view is right in front of me.”
Kanghyuk rolled his eyes, but the soft curve of his lips betrayed him. Jaewon let the silence settle between them, content to just watch him. The way the sunlight traced the sharp angles of his face, the way his fingers curled around his cup with quiet familiarity.
He reached across the table, fingertips brushing against Kanghyuk’s wrist. “Hyung, do you ever regret it?” The question had lingered at the edge of his thoughts for quite some time, but only now did he dare give it voice.
Kanghyuk tilted his head slightly, the steam from his coffee curling between them. “About what?”
Jaewon gestured vaguely, chopsticks still lazily held between his fingers. “Leaving everything behind. The industry, the spotlight. Everything you’ve built for years.”
Kanghyuk didn’t answer immediately. He took a slow sip of coffee, his gaze thoughtful but unwavering. “I didn’t leave everything behind,” he finally said, setting his cup down and meeting Jaewon’s eyes. “I just stepped out of the spotlight and into the only role that ever truly mattered.”
Jaewon exhaled, something warm unfurling in his chest. Still, he studied Kanghyuk’s face carefully, searching for any flicker of what-if in the depths of his gaze. “But do you miss it?”
Kanghyuk exhaled, leaning back slightly, his fingers absently tracing the delicate porcelain of his cup. “I miss parts of it,” he admitted. “The thrill of getting into a new character, the rush of a set coming to life.” A flicker of memory passed through his expression, something distant but not haunting.
“But then I wake up to this,” Kanghyuk whispered, his gaze softened, and without thinking, he reached across the table, fingers curling around Jaewon’s hand, thumb traced slowly over the simple gold band on his finger.
Kanghyuk’s touch lingered, as if memorizing the cool metal beneath the skin. The weight of the choice they had made, the life they had built. “I woke up to you and I had never been more sure of anything in my life than this.”
Jaewon’s chest tightened. Not with sadness, but with something deeper, something vast. A love so profound, even breathing felt like a privilege. He felt it in the spaces between heartbeats, in the way Kanghyuk’s fingers traced absent patterns against his skin.
It was the kind of love that didn't need to be spoken, only felt. He exhaled slowly, as if afraid the feeling might slip away with the breath. But it didn’t. It never did. It stayed, as certain as the sky, as steady as the man before him.
A year ago, Kanghyuk had sent shockwaves through the industry with the announcement of his indefinite break from acting, a step away from the life that had once consumed him. When his contract with Veritas came to an end, he chose not to renew and let it go without hesitation.
To his fans who still followed his work with unwavering loyalty, he left a simple promise that one day he’ll return but right now, he wanted days that weren’t dictated by scripts and schedules. He wanted slow mornings, conversations that weren’t interrupted by phone calls, moments that belonged only to him.
And more than anything, he wanted Jaewon.
In one evening, after another quiet dinner and a conversation that stretched effortlessly into the night, he placed a ring between them. Not with grandeur, but with quiet certainty. A promise, unspoken yet absolute. The man he wanted to spend forever with sat across from him, and that was all that mattered.
And now, here they were. No longer separated by time zones or obligations, no longer forced to hide their love in the shadows. Here, in the golden hush of morning, they had built a life where love no longer needed to be concealed.
The lake whispered against the shore, the sun poured golden light through their window, casting a soft glow over the quiet world they had built. Jaewon stole another bite of food with a mischievous grin, and Kanghyuk watched him.
He watched the way laughter curled at the edges of Jaewon’s lips, the way time seemed to slow in his presence, the way warmth softened every moment between them. And in that stillness, he knew.
This love, this quiet life, was the only script he wanted to relive until the final scene.