When the Clock Strikes|Pi Han Ul x Reader|

(S02) Chapter 42

I gave him a tired grin. “Didn’t know near-death survival food counted as a love language.”

He wiggled his brows. “It does when I’m making it.”

Before I could respond, he reached over and playfully tugged the collar of my hoodie. “Hey.”

“What?”

“You’re here. Really here. Do you know how long I wanted this?” His voice lowered. “Not just this—us. Without guilt or silence or… ghosts.”

I looked at him, suddenly breathless.

And then, like gravity snapping its fingers, we were kissing.

Not urgent. Not desperate. Just home.

His lips met mine gently, then more surely, as if reminding himself this wasn’t a dream. I reached up to his shirt, fingers curling, grounding myself in the warmth of him.

He pulled me closer, and I tilted my head, deepening it. Every second pressed between us was a second lost to time, stolen from the ache of all the days we had spent apart.

Then—he pulled back suddenly, breath caught, eyes wide.

“Okay,” he said, half-laughing, “since we broke up—and this is technically a fresh start—Ye Na.”

I blinked at him, cheeks flushed.

“I’m asking again,” he said, voice almost too sincere for his usual golden-retriever energy. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

I laughed—really laughed, the kind that came from somewhere untouched. “Shut up.”

And I kissed him again, harder this time.

We moved backward, still tangled in laughter and touches, until we collapsed onto the couch. His hands brushed my jaw, my waist, my back like he was trying to memorize the shape of me. I traced the lines of his cheek, his lips, the scar near his jaw he got from a bike fall in high school.

He kissed my collarbone. I closed my eyes.

The rest—the world, the pain, the questions—it all fell away.

Eventually, we found our way to the bathroom.

The tub filled slowly, water rising in warm waves, and we sank into it like two people exhaling for the first time in years. I sat between his legs, back resting against his chest, his arms loose around my middle. The air smelled faintly of eucalyptus soap. The world outside felt centuries away.

His chin dipped to rest on my shoulder.

“Are you still worried?” he asked quietly, his voice low and warm against my skin.

I didn’t answer right away. My fingers skimmed the water’s surface, tracing invisible shapes, my thoughts messier than I wanted to admit.

“I know Minhwan will help them out,” I said finally, “and I trust him. I do. But… I’m still a little worried. Like—what if something bad happens at the end?”

He stayed quiet, listening.

“What if they already…” My voice cracked. “What if we’re already too late and we’re just chasing ghosts?”

I shook my head, pulling my knees up slightly. “I don’t know. I just feel—uneasy.”

Han Wool kissed my cheek then, soft and slow, like a vow stitched into skin.

“Nothing will happen,” he whispered. “We are watching them twenty-four hours. Nothing will happen. They will get out soon".

I exhaled, leaning further into him.