Request one . . . .

The soft hum of the city filled the room as First adjusted his tie, glancing at his reflection. His eyes held a mix of excitement and nervousness. He believed in love-the kind of love that built bridges, healed wounds, and made life worth living. Today, he was stepping into a marriage arranged by their parents.

His husband, Joong, was a different story. Joong was distant, a man who walked through life with walls so high they seemed impenetrable.

"First, are you ready?" Joong's voice, calm and emotionless, broke his thoughts.

First turned, offering a warm smile. "Always."

The first month of their marriage was a test of patience for First. Joong kept to himself, spending most of his time in his office or out on walks. Dinners were quiet, filled with the clink of cutlery and minimal conversation.

One evening, as they sat across from each other, First decided to break the ice.

"Joong," he started softly, "what's your favorite memory from childhood?"

Joong paused, his fork mid-air. "Why does it matter?"

"Because I want to know you," First said sincerely.

Joong sighed, placing his fork down. "I don't see the point in these conversations. We're here because of our parents, not because we chose this." He said emotionless.

First's heart ached, but he refused to give up. "Maybe so, but we're here now. We could make it work if we tried."

Joong looked at him, his eyes guarded. "I don't believe in love, First. It's a lie people tell themselves to feel better. My best friend...he believed in it, and it nearly destroyed him. I can't risk that." He said and walked away from there.

The days passed, and First's determination only grew. He left small notes on Joong's desk-encouraging words, jokes, and even little sketches. He started cooking Joong's favorite dishes, even though Joong rarely commented on them.

One rainy evening, Joong came home to find the living room dimly lit, a warm aroma of spices filling the air. First stood by the dining table, holding a steaming bowl.

"I made your mom's chicken soup recipe," First said, smiling shyly.

Joong's eyes softened, though he tried to mask it. "How did you know?"

"I called her," First admitted. "I wanted to make you feel at home." He said softly.

Joong sat down, the warmth of the soup spreading through him. For the first time, he looked at First-not as a stranger but as someone who genuinely cared.

The breakthrough came one night when Joong couldn't sleep. He found First in the living room, surrounded by photos of happy couples.

"Why do you believe in this so much?" Joong asked, sitting beside him.

First turned to him, his eyes bright with unshed tears. "Because I've seen it. My grandparents were married for sixty years. They fought, they laughed, and they loved. I want that for us, Joong."

Joong looked away, his voice trembling. "My best friend, Pond...he loved someone so deeply, and when it ended, he nearly...he nearly didn't make it. I had to pull him back from the edge, First. Love isn't worth that pain."

First reached out, his hand gently covering Joong's. "I'm sorry you went through that. But love isn't just pain. It's also joy, support, and healing. Let me show you that." He said, and he could see the hesitation in Joong's eye, but still he got a small nod.

Over the next few months, Joong began to open up. They started sharing morning coffees, late-night conversations, and quiet walks in the park. Joong still hesitated, but First's unwavering kindness slowly chipped away at his walls.

One evening, as they stood on the balcony, Joong turned to First.

"You're stubborn," Joong said, a faint smile playing on his lips.

First chuckled. "I've been told."

Joong took a deep breath. "I don't know if I can ever believe in love the way you do. But...I want to try. With you."

First's eyes glistened with tears as he reached for Joong's hand. "That's all I need."

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Hope you like this chapter.

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Part 2 is coming soon.

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