And the moment he saw the large banner hanging at the museum entrance, the hollow emptiness in his stomach from not having eaten anything seemed to fill right up.
“The artists are all coming today too, right?”
“Yes. They’ve all arrived and are getting ready.”
“I looked them up and the works are so varied — did you personally handle all the outreach?”
“My team members found them and I gave the final approval. Was there anything that caught your eye?”
“All of it.”
He meant that sincerely. It had been nearly a month since he’d had a proper outing, so he’d come having excitedly looked up every participating artist in advance. The thought that this outing might have fallen through too, if he’d kept reacting so sensitively to other people’s pheromones, made him shudder.
He stroked his stomach and whispered quietly to the child who didn’t yet have a name. Thank you.
Come to think of it, he still needed to give the child a nickname — he kept forgetting. He felt bad about pulling Yuhan away from the gallery and his regular work just to come up with one together, and it had also seemed like the kind of thing he didn’t necessarily need to discuss as a pair, so he’d been mulling it over alone and the time had slipped by. He made a firm mental note to write a name in the maternity handbook by the end of this week.
“It looks like it’s about to start.”
“About that time. Jinwoo, this way….”
Jinwoo didn’t turn down Yuhan’s offered arm. The stage where the artists would be greeting everyone was built in a tiered step formation, and one wrong move could send him tumbling. Inviting Jinwoo to a space like this had been Yuhan’s own indulgence.
Stepping carefully, Jinwoo had no attention left over to feel bothered about the space. Following Yuhan’s lead all the way to the VIP seating — specifically to a spot with a cushioned pad laid out — his eyes were entirely on the artists holding microphones and preparing to speak.
Even when Yuhan received a blanket from his secretary and draped it over Jinwoo’s lap, the thanks Jinwoo offered was barely more than a murmur, and he wasn’t even aware of it.
“Jinwoo.”
“Yes?”
He turned at the sound of his name being called, only then registering Yuhan beside him.
“I get jealous when you look everywhere but at your husband.”
“…Sorry?”
He’d thought it might be a joke, but the expression was quite serious.
Jinwoo sat there blankly staring at him, and Yuhan closed both hands around the one that had come to rest on top of the blanket, leaning in and murmuring quietly.
“Stop looking at those people and look at me for a bit too.”
Jinwoo pulled back half a beat later. Not because he disliked it — but because his heart was pounding so loudly he could feel it himself, and he worried Yuhan might hear it too.
The loosely relaxed smile on Yuhan’s face was doing nothing to help Jinwoo’s confusion.
“I put some effort into getting dressed today too, same as them. What do you think?”
Yuhan’s whole atmosphere had already felt different today, even before that. Perhaps because this was a free, creative space rather than the kind of company full of stiff, by-the-book types — he wasn’t in his usual clean-cut formal suit. There was something more casual about the way he’d dressed.
Jinwoo had already noticed this the moment Yuhan came out to meet him at the building entrance, but he hadn’t found the right moment to bring it up, and had been hovering — feeling like saying anything would make it obvious he’d been paying attention.
“You look… really good. I didn’t know you had clothes like this.”
“You must not have seen them when you were making your nest. They were probably hanging too far back.”
“Why are you bringing that up right now.”
“I liked it. You can wreck the dressing room all you want — if you ever need anything in there, feel free to take it out any time.”
He remembered making the nest, but not the specific pieces he’d pulled out, so he couldn’t confirm whether that was true. Even so, the part about not minding if expensive clothes got ruined sounded genuinely meant. Whether he was saying it because he felt bad about being too busy with work lately to give Yuhan’s pheromones properly, or because he thought of Jinwoo as his mate — that wasn’t something Jinwoo could be certain of.
Warmth from Yuhan’s hand, mixed with pheromones, reached him. It was faint enough that no one else around them would have noticed, but Jinwoo was close enough to feel it.
“If the crowd gets to be too much, just say so.”
Yuhan was well aware that Jinwoo’s levels had stabilized enough to go out without trouble. Even so, the moment his pheromones wrapped around Jinwoo’s body, the fatigue in him eased noticeably.
Getting this used to it — what would he do if, at some point during the rest of the pregnancy, he and Yuhan were separated. He was worrying about something that hadn’t even happened yet. Still holding onto that thought, Jinwoo leaned slightly against him.
“I will. But I’m fine for now.”
Settling against Yuhan’s body beside him, a blend of his natural scent and cologne drifted up and tickled Jinwoo’s nose. It was a familiar scent. Since that day, this level of physical closeness had become natural between them. It was well within the image of the warm married couple Yuhan had spoken of, so there was nothing to feel self-conscious about even here.
What Jinwoo hadn’t realized was that the feelings he held toward Yuhan had changed considerably.
Until the invited artists finished their greetings and descriptions of their signature works, Yuhan held Jinwoo’s hand and gave it a slow, gentle massage. The upright body supporting him was more reassuring than usual, steady and calm in a way that was its own kind of comfort.
“…And lastly, I’d like to express my gratitude to Director Do Yuhan for extending this invitation to us.”
At a female ceramicist’s words of thanks, every eye in the room turned toward Yuhan. Naturally, the attention gathered on Jinwoo beside him too, and the relaxed posture he’d been sitting in stiffened on its own. Just as he was pulling away from where he’d been leaning and hurriedly trying to compose himself, the emcee passed the microphone to Yuhan.
“It’s alright. Stay comfortable.”
Yuhan gave Jinwoo’s thigh a light pat and rose from his seat.
“It is an honor to have been able to gather such promising artists together in one place faster than anyone else.”
The warmth in the room toward the modest director seemed to visibly rise.
“To my team members, who must have worked so hard when the date was moved up by several days from what was originally planned, and to all of our artists — I’d like to take this moment to offer my sincere apologies and heartfelt thanks.”
As Yuhan dipped his head in a bow, a few voices around him offered reassurances. He was clearly someone well-trusted within his organization. Jinwoo felt a swell of pride that wasn’t even his to feel.
“There are many reasons I came to plan this exhibition, but the greatest one is my husband.”
Jinwoo’s eyes went wide. His gaze met Yuhan’s, and Yuhan smiled softly.
“Today is my husband’s birthday. I apologize to our artists for making use of you in this way — but I wanted to give him this exhibition as a birthday gift.”
Everyone involved had already known, but Jinwoo, who had had no idea, sat there with his mouth hanging open. He thought briefly that perhaps mixing personal feelings into professional matters wasn’t entirely appropriate — but this wasn’t the moment to bring that up.
Applause and birthday wishes broke out from all directions as if they’d been waiting for the cue. Jinwoo stood up awkwardly and greeted everyone. Every person gathered in this room was celebrating his birthday. He’d only ever spent birthdays at small parties with friends — nothing on a scale like this had ever happened before, and he felt thoroughly disoriented.
Yuhan handed the microphone back to the emcee and returned to his seat. Still in the middle of trying to cool down his burning face, Jinwoo reached out the moment Yuhan sat down and grabbed his sleeve.
“This isn’t going to end up in an article or anything, right?”
“How about ‘A Group Director’s Gift for His Spouse’ as the headline?”
“What? Is an article actually going out?”
“Of course. It’s set to run in the culture and arts section.”
What that meant was — while it was a gift for Jinwoo, it also ensured that the successful launch of a debut artist exhibition didn’t go unnoticed. It was a way of proving Yuhan’s capabilities while also redirecting some of the attention that might otherwise fall entirely on Jinwoo.
The promise to gift him a piece he liked from the exhibition had also been a kind of smokescreen. The exhibition itself was the birthday gift to Jinwoo, after all.
“So — the birthday gift. What do you think?”
“What do I think…. It’s too much…. I love it….”
A smile mixed with embarrassment bloomed across Jinwoo’s face. Ah, I want to kiss him. Having someone this endearing right in front of him and being unable to do anything about it was nothing short of torture. Everyone here surely thought of them as a couple who adored each other — a short kiss wouldn’t be out of place, he thought — but then again, he didn’t want Jinwoo to resent him for being swept up in the atmosphere.
Caught between impulse and reason, Yuhan ultimately chose reason. He held back, saving it for the moment when the word used to describe the two of them would no longer be “married couple” but “lovers.”
“Shall we go look around now?”
The first feeling he’d ever had — the desire to possess — had not disappeared. He simply wasn’t the kind of man who surrendered to that instinct. He had chosen to build things up from the ground, one piece at a time, even if it was a slower and less efficient way.
Funnily enough, it didn’t feel like a waste of time.
