Simmering Heat – Chapter 14.1

Author: nicotine

The faint hum of the beam projector and laptop filled the spacious lecture hall. A raspy voice occasionally scraped through the quiet, the professor’s amplified words capturing the attention of most students, their hands busy typing or scribbling on paper. Exams started next week, and even those usually dozing or fiddling with their phones under their desks were now alert and attentive. It was quite the studious scene.

Amidst the focused students, however, one sat hunched over, preoccupied with an entirely different matter. Cha Jinhyun pulled out his phone, the same one he’d checked ten minutes prior. The message he’d sent a few days ago remained unanswered. He shoved the phone back into his pocket, a rough gesture betraying his irritation.

Is being left on read worse, or being ignored altogether?

It was a common topic of debate, but Jinhyun usually didn’t care either way. Ignored is ignored. If it’s urgent, they’ll call. He himself was guilty of leaving people on read, so he wasn’t one to dwell on it. In fact, he couldn’t understand why anyone would get upset over something so trivial.

The thing was, he’d never been on the receiving end of either.

Now, Cha Jinhyun had made his choice. Being left on read is fucking worse. Lee Taeun had read his message and thoroughly ignored it.

On the day Taeun declared his departure, effectively ending their ambiguous relationship, Jinhyun had asked for permission to contact him. It was a way to secure justification. This was different from the past, where he’d been ignored without explanation.

Taeun had confessed, and Jinhyun had rejected him.

It would have been normal for them to part ways and live as strangers. But Cha Jinhyun didn’t want that. He needed Taeun’s verbal assurance that, despite the temporary distance, their connection would remain. A kind of insurance policy.

Which had now been voided.

He’d texted Taeun’s name after finding his apartment eerily empty. Taeun’s laptop was gone, his desk cleared. Jinhyun had searched the entire place – living room, kitchen, bathroom.

Spoon. Chopsticks. Toothbrush. Tube of toothpaste. Face wash. Bowl. Plate. Two cans of Spam. Nail clippers. Ear cleaning kit. Clothes hanger. Bottle of laundry detergent…

It was as if Taeun had meticulously taken half of everything. He’d probably taken things he’d bought or brought himself.

‘Why not take the rice and kimchi too?’

Jinhyun scoffed, amused by his own petty bitterness. He’d assumed Taeun was crashing at a friend’s place for a week, maybe a month at most, just like he’d done before. But the assortment of items Taeun had taken screamed otherwise.

‘Where the hell is he going?’

Perhaps Taeun was trying to sever ties again. Panic welled within Jinhyun. Without thinking, he’d sent that pointless message, hoping to quell his rising anxiety. There had been no reply. Now, three days later, his suspicion solidified into certainty.

‘That bastard, is he not coming back?’

He tried to calm his racing thoughts. He needs time. Right, I understand. But the irritation was undeniable. Memories of a distant past overlapped with the present, fueling his frustration. Doubt gnawed at him, stealing his sleep. While others were kept awake by exam stress, Jinhyun spent his nights dissecting Taeun’s disappearance. His gaze, lost in thought, finally landed on his desk just as the lecture hall erupted in chatter. Break time.

“Smoke break?”

“Later.”

The guy next to him nudged Jinhyun’s shoulder. He considered a cigarette to clear his head, but decided against it. He needed to stay focused. The other guy nodded, stood up, and leaned over Jinhyun’s desk.

“What are you doing? Planning to move?”

“Mind your own business. I’m studying.”

“What, opening a real estate agency or something?”

The guy persisted, his face etched with curiosity. Jinhyun waved him away dismissively.

He was studying, in a way. Tracking someone’s movements required research, psychological profiling, and financial analysis. The paper he’d been scribbling on during class contained nothing related to the upcoming exam.

Saeron Ville — 500 / 45 (10% probability)

: Cheapest deposit for a studio. Lee Taeun doesn’t have 500.

*Consider the possibility he asked his aunt for help.

Daegyung Livingtel — 100 / 50 (40% probability)

: Cheap deposit. Studio apartment/goshiwon. First month’s rent and deposit due upfront. Lee Taeun doesn’t have 150.

*Consider the possibility he dipped into savings.

Best Motel — 30,000 won per night (15% probability)

: Around 900,000 won per month. Doesn’t explain the dishes and laundry detergent.

*Most expensive long-term option.

He’d already researched the local studios and goshiwons. Within a 3km radius, only three places were remotely feasible for Taeun. Jinhyun crossed out the first option. If Taeun had asked his parents for money, they would’ve contacted Jinhyun. He then eliminated the third. Judging by the items Taeun took, he planned to be gone for a while. Paying close to a million won a month in rent was impossible.

Number two… Jinhyun recalled the location of Daegyung Livingtel. He didn’t plan to visit, even if he found out where Taeun was. They’d inevitably see each other at club meetings. This was all precautionary. He needed a backup plan in case Taeun disappeared again.

This whole thing, sparked by a single unanswered text, had spiraled out of control. But the uncertainty gnawed at him. As he narrowed down the possibilities to number two, a thought struck him.

‘…Why would he take the ear cleaning kit?’

Sure, plenty of people cleaned their own ears… but not Lee Taeun. He had a weird, almost perverse enjoyment in cleaning other people’s ears.

Just recently…

Taeun had hounded him, begging, “Please, just once!” to clean his ears. Finally relenting, Jinhyun had lain down with his head in Taeun’s lap. The self-proclaimed “Ear Cleaning Level 1 Expert” had even used his phone’s flashlight. But the cleaning session had ended abruptly. Taeun’s breath, hot against his ear, had sent a strange shiver down his spine, and Jinhyun had sat up, abandoning the ear cleaning…

“…….”

Jinhyun quickly pulled himself back to the present. Goosebumps prickled his skin, just like that day. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to shake off the sensation. …Is he planning to offer ear cleaning services in lieu of rent? The absurd thought didn’t even elicit a laugh. But the ‘ear cleaning kit’ forced him to reconsider. He started listing Taeun’s friends and acquaintances.

Choi Hoseong, Kim Jintae — Live with their parents, 0.1% probability

Go Seonhyeong, Yoon Woojin — Live on their own, *outside Seoul, 5% probability

Park Minwoo, Jo Byeonghyeon — Live on their own, *in Seoul, but far away. 35% probability

He categorized Taeun’s middle and high school friends. He could probably ask Park Minwoo and Jo Byeonghyeon. It was convenient that their social circles mostly overlapped. Jinhyun had a habit of probing the inside of his cheek with his tongue when deep in thought. The bulge in his cheek was a clear indicator of his concentration. He spun his pen, his leg jiggling under the desk.

He continued, listing Taeun’s university friends, anyone whose name he’d ever heard.

Jung Sojin, Kim Hyoju — 0% probability

Park Kiwon — Precedent. *Complained about cramped apartment. 95% probability

An Seonjin — Gender unknown. Probability ?

Kim Jemin – Doesn’t seem that close. 50% probability

Shin Jeonghyeon – Female. 0% probability

He added notes as he went, making deductions. If Taeun was staying with someone, it was more likely to be a university friend. Park Kiwon seemed the most probable, but… Jinhyun’s hand moved again.

Kim Sunghyun — Lives in the dorm.

He couldn’t think of anyone else. His leg bounced faster under the desk. No matter how he looked at it, the most likely place for Lee Taeun to be…

…Flower Boy Seo Teacher?

His leg stopped abruptly. Cha Jinhyun scoffed at his own suggestion. No way. They’d barely met. They weren’t even friends. The idea of a former cram school teacher taking in a student was beyond his comprehension. He crossed out “Flower Boy Seo Teacher,” then scribbled over it until the words were completely obscured.

…He was petty. He admitted his flaws. He was annoyed that he was the one being ignored, and the teacher Taeun had been so eager to see was, by default, an object of his resentment. Jinhyun tossed his pen onto the desk and leaned back in his chair.

What the hell am I doing?

‘…He’ll come back when he’s ready. He said he didn’t want to stop seeing me.’

Jinhyun straightened up. The lecture had resumed. He had to study. He pushed his notes aside and pulled up the lecture slides. His eyes focused on the title: Consumer Behavior – Analyzing Consumer Actions.

He was reading “The Consumer Purchase Process, 01. Recognizing the Need – The first step in initiating the purchase process…” when a thought intruded.

‘He didn’t take a blanket. Doesn’t he need one?’

Cha Jinhyun latched onto the irrelevant thought, letting it expand like a mind map.

‘Is he planning to buy a new one?’

Doubtful. He probably didn’t have the money. Or maybe the place he’s staying already has one… His right leg started bouncing again. The thought, once ignited, raged on, painting a bizarre scenario: He’d track down Lee Taeun, blanketless and on the run, and in front of his mysterious roommate, calmly hand over his own blanket.

You like my blanket, don’t you? You jerked off and came on it.

Then Lee Taeun would be so mortified he’d have nowhere else to go, and he’d be forced to come home. If he came back… Jinhyun could offer his bed and blanket as a peace offering a few times.

“Crazy.”

The unconscious curse slipped out. The sudden profanity cut through the quiet lecture hall, freezing the air.

The professor stopped mid-sentence. All eyes turned to Jinhyun. The professor stared at him expectantly. Jinhyun simply apologized. “…Sorry.” The professor cleared his throat and resumed the lecture.

Seriously, stop thinking about it.

Cha Jinhyun closed his eyes, then opened them, repeating the mantra. Tomorrow was Saturday, club meeting day. No matter how awkward things were, Lee Taeun wouldn’t miss club activities. He’d ask him where he’d been, and if Taeun still refused to answer… he’d follow him.

Anything was better than these insane fantasies. Setting a plan in motion eased the tightness in his chest. Right, tomorrow. Jinhyun sighed, releasing a jumble of thoughts. Just then, his phone buzzed inside his jacket. He quickly pulled it out. It wasn’t Lee Taeun.

[Visual Design Kim Sunghyun: No seminar or meeting this week because of exams~ Let’s decide on a meeting time tomorrow and meet up then?] 15:32

Fuck. Jinhyun swallowed the curse that threatened to erupt. Nothing was going his way.

If we’re having club activities, we should be working hard regardless of exams. He mentally berated the supposed lack of commitment, while simultaneously labeling the management team’s well-received consideration as a weakness. He hesitated, then opened a private chat with Kim Sunghyun.

[Hey, what are you doing today?] 15:34

[Let’s meet up.] 15:34

Flower Boy Seo Teacher was Kim Sunghyun sunbae, wasn’t he?

Probably not. But Daegyung Livingtel and Park Kiwon’s place were still the most likely options.

This was a flimsy hunch. But if he considered the three of them chatting together on the last day of the MT, the teacher’s odd kindness towards Lee Taeun, and his parting words, “Seriously, it’s okay, just call me,” it was worth exploring. Kim Sunghyun was shrewd, and it would be difficult to get information out of him without revealing too much. But Jinhyun had to do something to alleviate this itch.

He recalled Seo Jaeoh’s gentle voice over the phone, calling Taeun’s name. He grimaced. …Do teachers normally talk to their students like that? Especially male students?

[Cancel whatever you have.] 15:36

He sent another message to the unresponsive Sunghyun. His mood soured for no apparent reason.

🔥

The long lecture finally ended after a little over three hours. The professor’s already gravelly voice had deteriorated into a grating croak by the end. Everything’s annoying. Jinhyun clicked his tongue. Students packed their bags and filed out. Cha Jinhyun remained seated, glued to his phone. Tap, tap. A few students gathered in front of him, lightly tapping his desk.

“Not going to the library?”

“Nah. You guys go.”

Jinhyun replied without looking up. His eyes remained fixed on his phone screen. His fingers flew across the keyboard, replying to messages as they came in.

[Visual Design Kim Sunghyun: Nope, can’t.] 17:06

This was the fifth identical rejection he’d received.

[Can.] 17:06

Jinhyun sent his fifth demand. The rapid exchange of messages scrolled quickly up the screen.

[Visual Design Kim Sunghyun: Can’t.] 17:06

[Can.] 17:06

[Visual Design Kim Sunghyun: I said I can’t.] 17:06

[I said you can.] 17:07

The back-and-forth continued like a relentless tug-of-war.

“We’re heading out.”

A final, questioning farewell floated above Jinhyun’s head. “Yeah.” He waved them off dismissively, his attention still on his phone. The conversation lulled.

[Visual Design Kim Sunghyun: Okay, let me think about it.] 17:08

This was the most promising response yet. Jinhyun finally placed his bag on the desk and unzipped it. He haphazardly tossed his books and papers inside, his eyes glued to the screen.

[Visual Design Kim Sunghyun: lol jk can’t] 17:08

“Ah, shit.”

A new message popped up in the previously silent chat window. Jinhyun grimaced. He zipped up his bag, slung it over his shoulder, and stood up. Instead of replying, he called Kim Sunghyun. He adjusted his bag as he walked out of the lecture hall and down the corridor towards the smoking area and terrace.

“Where are you?”

The call connected quickly. Jinhyun lit a cigarette, his question sharp and demanding.

—Why the sudden interrogation?

Sunghyun’s voice was laced with annoyance. Jinhyun took a long drag, a brief silence filling the air. He blew out a stream of smoke, adjusting his grip on the phone.

“Why not?”

—Exams are next week. Jinhyun, aren’t you studying?

“That’s for people who slack off all the time.”

—Yes, yes. That would be me.

The rustle of paper accompanied Sunghyun’s sarcastic reply. Apparently, he wasn’t lying about studying.

“Your department doesn’t have exams.”

Not that Cha Jinhyun cared.

—Design students don’t take general education courses? I have to memorize a ton of Hanja.

“Ah, fuck, just…”

Sunghyun was unusually stubborn. The call, meant to relieve his frustration, was only adding to it. Jinhyun trailed off, clamping his lips shut. He felt ridiculous, practically begging Kim Sunghyun.

Forget it. A wave of exhaustion washed over him. This wasn’t that urgent. He was getting ahead of himself over one unanswered text. He took a deep breath, the cigarette ember glowing brighter. As he calmed down, the flaws in his logic became apparent.

There was no guarantee Kim Sunghyun even knew where Lee Taeun was. If he did, he would’ve already contacted Jinhyun to ask what was going on. There was no point in pushing it. Jinhyun stubbed out his cigarette.

“Hello? Did you hang up?”

Sunghyun’s voice, tinged with question marks, broke the silence. I’m hanging up if you’re not going to talk. That’s what he meant to say.

“…You, before.”

But the words that came out were completely different.

—Me what?

Intrigued by Cha Jinhyun’s unusual behavior, Sunghyun responded immediately. Silence again. Jinhyun stopped, rubbing the space between his eyebrows. What the hell am I doing? He leaned against the railing, turning his back to the view. A sense of self-disgust filled him as he rested his arms on the metal structure. Even if it wasn’t about Taeun’s whereabouts, there was something else he wanted to ask.

He wanted to ask Kim Sunghyun, who’d admitted to having liked a straight guy, what had happened with that person.

—What is it? Just tell me already. You like getting to the point.

Unable to speak plainly, he remained silent. Cha Jinhyun hesitated.

He knew other people’s experiences weren’t necessarily applicable to his situation, and that it had nothing to do with Lee Taeun. But he wanted to gauge the possibilities. The possibility of things returning to normal. The possibility of Lee Taeun coming back. It was the same foolish mindset that drove people to religion in times of hardship, or superstition in times of uncertainty. If a little foolish behavior could bring him a moment of peace, it was worth it.

“…Never mind.”

—What? What do you mean never mind?

“Go memorize your Hanja.”

But Jinhyun decided against it. He ended the call without further explanation. His phone immediately buzzed with an indignant message from Kim Sunghyun. Jinhyun silenced the notification and pocketed his phone.

No point. The thought occurred to him, but there was another reason.

Even if he tried to hide it, the slightest slip-up would give him away. Suddenly inquiring about Kim Sunghyun’s love life, something he’d never shown any interest in before, would be incredibly suspicious. Kim Sunghyun would keep pushing, and his unprepared lies would crumble under scrutiny.

If he found out it was about him and Lee Taeun… He might inadvertently out Taeun. He didn’t want to risk that.

But he didn’t know how to cope with this emptiness. Taeun being gone felt exactly like it did three years ago. The current situation, however, was much clearer. The reason Taeun had to leave was also…

“…….”

That’s what made it so much harder. This was the most difficult challenge he’d ever faced. He couldn’t understand why the anxiety and confusion he felt were so much more intense than before.

Was he afraid Taeun wouldn’t come back? Afraid he’d say he didn’t want to see him again? Why had he been okay with it back then? No, he hadn’t been okay, but he’d managed.

He’d felt bursts of anger, the urge to shake Taeun senseless, but those were remnants of betrayal and rage, not this anxious, precarious feeling.

Everything felt blurry and indistinct. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t logically explain the source of his anxiety. Only the sudden surges of desire were clear. He wanted to know where Taeun was, what he was doing. He wanted him to reply to his message. No, more than that, he wanted to talk to him. No, more than that…

Cha Jinhyun stood still, staring at his feet.

He’d thought about Taeun often, even three years ago. Before bed, or on his way home. So the feeling wasn’t entirely unfamiliar.

But he’d never felt this strange heat rising from his collarbone to his ears. An unfamiliar shyness gnawed at him. The memory of Taeun’s soft palms and calloused fingers filled his mind. His thumb, gently rubbing Jinhyun’s hand. His smile, so infectious it made everyone around him feel warm.

The memory was hazy, so he blinked repeatedly, trying to bring the image into focus. The frustration was overwhelming. Despite his above-average height, Jinhyun felt like a child craning his neck to see something just out of reach.

He pulled out his phone again. Before opening Taeun’s chat, he noticed a new message in the club group chat. A flurry of replies to Kim Sunghyun’s announcement. Lee Taeun. Jinhyun’s eyes locked onto the name.

[Lee Taeun: nya] 17:20

[Lee Taeun: Yes] 17:20

He chuckled at Taeun’s adorable typo.

He should have been angry at being ignored, but he simply stared at Taeun’s name. If I contact him, will he ignore me again? How long am I supposed to wait? He regretted not setting a deadline. He knew he should leave Taeun alone for now. But he wanted to see him.

He nudged a loose piece of concrete with his foot. Jinhyun adjusted his bag and started walking. Just curious how he’s doing. He might be wandering around looking like a soggy steamed bun again…

He mentally reviewed the past couple of months, searching for clues about Taeun’s Friday schedule. He should have memorized his timetable. He’d practically set Taeun free without a safety net.

‘Did he have a full day of classes on Fridays? I think he had major courses in the afternoon…’

Taeun always came home later than him, so he was probably still in class. Jinhyun quickened his pace.

I’ll wait an hour. I can at least see his face. He needed to see for himself how Taeun was doing after ignoring his text.

‘I’ll just see his face and then leave.’

Jinhyun repeated the excuse to himself as he practically power-walked.

🔥

Objective: Observe Lee Taeun’s current state and return home.

Jinhyun passed through the K University gates and continued walking. He strolled with a casual confidence, as if he belonged there. He passed the main athletic field, rounded the student union building, turned right, and continued straight. After about ten minutes, he reached the College of Fine Arts, a place he frequented. He sat on a bench with a clear view of Taeun’s usual entrance, one leg crossed over the other, and checked the time.

Taeun’s last class ended at 6, so he had about thirty minutes to kill. He played a mobile game he’d downloaded ages ago, glancing at the entrance every few seconds. Eventually, he lost interest in the game altogether. He turned off the screen, displaying a disastrously low score, and put his phone away.

Can’t focus. He felt better just zoning out.

A few people trickled in and out of the building. A little after 6, small groups of students emerged. Not many. 6:30. Lee Taeun was nowhere in sight. Did he leave through a different exit? Unlikely. The back of the building was essentially a dead end. To reach the main road, he’d have to come this way.

Cha Jinhyun finally realized his mistake.

All-nighters were practically a rite of passage in the Design department, especially during midterms. Lee Taeun was probably still at school.

The belatedly obvious realization left Jinhyun feeling foolish. Why did I come all this way? He’d never done something so impulsive before. When he made plans, he specified the time, place, and activity.

His own stupidity was baffling. Annoyed by his uncharacteristic absentmindedness, Jinhyun stood up. He was actually going to leave. But something stopped him.

The timing was uncanny. Taeun was walking out of the building. Rooted to the spot, Jinhyun watched him walk away. He only caught a glimpse of his face. He didn’t look like a soggy steamed bun. In fact, he looked thinner than usual. Is he eating properly?

Lee Taeun had a habit of skipping meals. He ate only when he felt hungry, preferring snacks and, even more so, alcohol… Jinhyun’s gaze trailed down Taeun’s stiff back. His thin shoulders and the nape of his neck bothered him.

‘…He might be starving himself to pay rent.’

Jinhyun changed his objective.

Make sure he eats something, then go home.

He followed Taeun, keeping a safe distance. He blended in with the other pedestrians, making it look like they were simply walking in the same direction.

What if he’s going home? How would he confirm that he ate something? Cha Jinhyun was pondering this pointless question when Lee Taeun turned into a bar tucked away in a side street.

Jinhyun, caught off guard, quickly followed and peeked inside. The entire front was made of glass, offering a clear view of the interior.

“Heh, hmm.”

He stifled a laugh. Lee Taeun was standing near the kitchen, wearing an apron.

He wasn’t there for a drink. He was working. He must’ve gotten the job recently. He looked serious, standing next to another employee, diligently studying the menu. In any case, it was a bonus to discover Taeun’s regular haunt.

Since he’d found a job near campus, he must be living nearby. Park Kiwon’s place, already at 95%, jumped to 99%.

Should I leave? Jinhyun wondered. He wasn’t going to see Taeun eat anything.

‘…If he’s working at a bar, he’ll finish late.’

But his thoughts took another turn. The world was a dangerous place. What if something happened to Lee Taeun on his way home? He wouldn’t be able to live with himself.

To eliminate any potential regrets, Jinhyun adjusted his objective once more.

Make sure he gets home safely, then go home.

He scanned the area and settled into a cafe across the street, on the second floor. The slight offset between the two buildings provided a perfect vantage point. He couldn’t see Taeun when he went further into the bar, but whenever he came near the windows, Jinhyun could even make out his facial expressions. He watched Taeun appear and disappear, feeling like he was playing a game of whack-a-mole.

‘Did someone yell at him?’

‘His apron string is untied.’

‘He’s going to spill something like that.’

Jinhyun made idle observations every time Taeun came into view. His ice water had long since melted, the ice clinking softly against the glass. Watching Lee Taeun eased the anxiety that had plagued him for the past week.

He was feeling… good. He smiled occasionally, observing the changing expressions on Taeun’s face.

It didn’t look like he’d be finishing anytime soon. Jinhyun opened his bag and took out the lecture notes from the class he’d zoned out of. He might as well review the material while he waited. He took his empty glass downstairs to order another drink. He was halfway to the counter when he stopped dead in his tracks.

He’d made eye contact with a man entering the cafe.

“…Oh.”

The man let out a surprised gasp, then a small smile spread across his lips. He strode towards Jinhyun, who was standing awkwardly between the stairs and the counter.

“Hello. What a coincidence seeing you here.”

“…Yeah.”

Jinhyun forced a smile, his face stiffening.

It was Seo Jaeoh.

“Oh, welcome!”

Lost in thought, Taeun was jolted back to reality by the greeting and the sound of the door opening and closing. He blinked, the bright fluorescent lights of the officetel suddenly replaced by the warm glow of the bar.

The manager, who had been training him, tapped him lightly on the shoulder. First customer. Taeun met her gaze and nodded seriously.

‘Water, glass, heaping bowl of snacks.’

Recalling the process he’d just memorized, he deftly arranged the items on a tray. His first serving. Shouldering a heavy load of nerves, Taeun approached the table. He placed the water and complimentary snacks down and waited a short distance away. Soon, the cheerful chime of the table bell rang out.

‘ID check. Glasses for each person. Confirm the alcohol brand.’

Muttering to himself, he practically ran to the table. He asked the obviously young customers for their IDs. They grinned, readily producing their wallets. Twenty years old… An age where exam periods seemed irrelevant. Good times. Taeun thought with an old man’s sigh, completing the ID check.

He entered the order into the POS system, confirmed it, and served the drinks and glasses. Once the food was out, he was done. Having completed the simple procedure, Taeun had the arrogant thought, ‘This is easy.’ A thought he shouldn’t have had, considering he’d only served one table in an almost empty bar.

“Anything else I can do?”

Lately, Taeun had been filling every spare moment with activity. This flurry of busyness was unusual for him, a man prone to idleness. He preferred being busy. He welcomed exam season, the exams themselves, and the mountain of assignments threatening to bury him. Being dragged along by this forced, restrictive routine made everything else—love, feelings—seem trivial. It also helped him think less about a certain man etched into his memory.

“Um… actually, could you refill the napkins?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The manager led him to the counter. “Napkins are here, just refill them whenever you have time,” she explained, opening a lower cabinet. Taeun nodded quickly.

‘Napkins under the counter… napkins under the counter.’

He grabbed the square bundles of napkins and darted around the bar, refilling the empty dispensers. He made his rounds of the ten or so tables, but no new customers arrived. Taeun returned to the manager and tapped her on the shoulder.

“Anything else I can do?”

“Oh, right. There are some empty water bottles in the fridge. Could you refill those?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Just as she’d said, five or six empty water bottles sat in the fridge. Taeun filled them at the water dispenser and put them back.

…That was too quick. He tapped the manager’s shoulder again.

“Anything else…?”

“Just take a break.”

“Okay.”

“You’re so enthusiastic. Just the kind of employee the owner likes.”

He smiled foolishly at the compliment, but inwardly, he was anxious.

‘This is bad.’

Taeun hated these empty moments. Or rather, he hated the figure that intruded during those moments. But as a wage slave in a capitalist society, disobedience wasn’t an option. Sitting at the staff table, Taeun patted his pockets, considering his phone, but then placed his empty hands on his lap. He couldn’t really be on his phone while working.

‘…Why is it so slow?’

I need to be busy. I need to be busy. But I can’t control how busy it is at work. Was there anything else he could do? Should he offer to clean the bathroom? Was Cha Jinhyun cleaning their apartment? They used to do it together. Did I leave too abruptly? He must be annoyed. Well, I’ve been acting selfish from the start. He must be disgusted with me. What was I supposed to do? I didn’t want to leave either…

“…….”

Taeun abruptly stood up. The stillness sent his restless energy to his head, fueling unnecessary thoughts. He washed his hands repeatedly, swept the floor, and rearranged the beer glasses, keeping himself busy.

Sometimes, a mysterious deity grants wishes, but only about one in ten. And if they were going to grant a wish, he wished they’d chosen the one he’d sobbed over. Make it busy. The unknown god Taeun seemed to worship only granted wishes like this one.

“Welcome!”

As the sun set and darkness fell, customers began to arrive. Within just thirty minutes, more than half the tables were filled. The bar buzzed with conversation, drowning out the pop music. Amidst the cacophony, Taeun darted around, ears perked, barely able to keep up with the orders, let alone his own thoughts. This was exactly what he’d wished for.

‘…Could it be a little less busy?’

God, this is a bit too much. Taeun amended his wish.

The constant stream of small tasks and additional requests meant he had to stay sharp. He ended up practically flying around the bar, his apron billowing behind him like a cape.

“When you serve the rolled omelet, put ketchup on top. Want to try?”

About an hour and a half into the rush, things calmed down a bit, like a sudden downpour subsiding. The manager approached Taeun as he waited for the rolled omelet for table 8. It appeared on the stainless steel counter.

“Uh, me?”

“Just squirt it on however you like. Nothing too weird. Some customers like it when you make it fun.”

The manager handed him a plump ketchup bottle. The instruction to “make it fun” added a bit of pressure.

Taeun hesitantly took the bottle, opened it, and after a moment of thought, squeezed two circles onto the golden omelet. A nose and a mouth. He carefully drew a circle around them, then added ears and a few strands of hair. A slightly grumpy-looking character emerged.

“Oh, you definitely have an artistic touch, being an art student.”

“Ehehe.”

The manager, who had been watching his concentrated efforts as if it were performance art, chuckled. Lee Taeun laughed awkwardly and pulled his phone out of his apron pocket.

“Can I take a picture of this?”

He asked for permission, just in case. The manager nodded.

My first… rolled omelet. Taeun muttered, snapping a picture, then realized the face he’d created with the thick, red liquid resembled someone he used to doodle in high school. He blinked rapidly. His unconscious mind had apparently influenced his fingers.

“I’ll take this one. You’re just here for training today, so you can go ahead and wrap things up. The other guy will be here soon. You’ll be working with him next time. I’ll let him know.”

“Oh, okay. Got it.”

His scheduled shift was five hours, but since today was for training, he was supposed to leave after two. He went to the back room, twenty minutes earlier than planned, and opened his messaging app.

[Hyung, I think I’ll be done earlier than expected.] 20:42

[Are you home? Where should I go?] 20:42

They had agreed to hang out, but hadn’t made specific plans. Taeun took off his apron, packed his bag, and waited for a reply. Should I call him? He briefly considered it, then his phone buzzed.

[Flower Boy Seo Teacher: Finished early? I’m at the cafe across the street.] 20:43

[Flower Boy Seo Teacher: H Roasting. See it?] 20:43

[Flower Boy Seo Teacher: Just finish up what you’re doing and come on over. Can you come up?] 20:43

He’s here? Taeun, surprised, stood up. He hadn’t expected Seo Jaeoh to come all the way here. He felt a pang of guilt at Seo Jaeoh’s thoughtfulness. He quickly typed a reply.

🔥

Cha Jinhyun disliked more things than he liked. Among them was making small talk with vaguely familiar people, exchanging pointless pleasantries and updates he didn’t care about. Seo Jaeoh fell into the category of “not just vaguely familiar, but actively disliked.”

Why is he here? Is his company nearby? Oh, right, he said he went to our school. Does he have business here? The question “why” dominated his thoughts, but he didn’t bother asking. There’s no way… There’s absolutely no way he’s here because of Lee Taeun. Jinhyun finished ordering his drink and took out his phone, positioning himself a short distance from Seo Jaeoh. A nonverbal cue to discourage conversation.

‘Did Taeun come to meet you?’

But the casual question made him turn his head involuntarily. Jinhyun stared at Seo Jaeoh without replying. Noticing his blatant stare, the man chuckled awkwardly.

‘I heard you two had a fight… so I thought I’d check.’

‘No.’

Fuck, what does he know? Jinhyun frowned, his reply curt. He hadn’t come to meet him. …He’d come to see how Taeun was doing.

‘I see.’

‘Yeah.’

Jinhyun kept his answer short, hoping to end the conversation. The thought of discussing Taeun with Seo Jaeoh soured his mood. This is what I hate. Forced social niceties with someone he wanted to ignore. Jinhyun planned to stick to monosyllabic responses like “Ah,” “Yeah,” and “Okay” until his coffee was ready.

‘I asked because I didn’t want to intrude. Good thing I did.’

‘…What do you mean?’

His plan went out the window. Like a young lynx easily provoked, Cha Jinhyun snapped back before Seo Jaeoh even finished his sentence.

‘Oh, I came to pick up Taeun.’

The phrase “pick up Taeun” rubbed him the wrong way.

‘…Why?’

He blurted out the question without thinking. Seo Jaeoh tilted his head slightly, seemingly confused. Jinhyun suddenly felt frustrated. Senior, club mentor, school sunbae. He preferred to keep things professional, and these formal titles for Seo Jaeoh flashed through his mind, holding him back. But it was too late. The inexplicable irritation escaped his lips.

‘Why are you picking up Lee Taeun?’

It was a clear challenge. Seo Jaeoh’s expression hardened slightly. Jinhyun didn’t apologize. A buried assumption wormed its way to the surface of his mind.

‘He has plans… and they live together?’

And it was proven correct. Seo Jaeoh looked bewildered, as if he were being asked to explain something obvious.

‘Taeun’s staying at my place… Oh, you didn’t know.’

The scenario he’d dismissed as having zero probability had materialized, mocking him.

Why?

It was the only question he could think of. He’d finally discovered Taeun’s whereabouts after days of searching, but he was filled with a sense of bewilderment. His expression hardened, tinged with confusion. Seo Jaeoh, perhaps misinterpreting his reaction, smiled and added,

‘We’ve known each other for a long time, so you don’t have to worry. I’m not a weirdo, so relax.’

I’ve known him longer.

Jinhyun swallowed the childish retort. He had to ask. Why? They’d only reconnected less than a month ago. This made no sense. There was no such thing as meaningless kindness. It usually masked ulterior motives.

Seo Jaeoh replied that he’d offered help because Taeun seemed to need it. The answer was insufficient. So why did you help him? He almost voiced the question bubbling in his throat, but Seo Jaeoh, as if reading his mind, elaborated.

‘Taeun’s cute. And pretty. I couldn’t just ignore him.’

“Ha.”

Recalling the brief conversation, Cha Jinhyun chewed on his thick black straw, then spat it out. It was better than unleashing the string of curses that threatened to escape his lips. Pretty? Cute, I can understand, but pretty? Was that a word men casually used to describe other men? …That wasn’t the way a teacher described a student. Jinhyun bounced his legs restlessly.

Jinhyun had never once thought of Taeun as “pretty.” He glared at the group sitting two tables away, specifically at Taeun, as if trying to sear the image into his cornea. A strange sense of defiance.

Taeun, having just arrived, was actively avoiding him.

He’d frozen on the stairs when he’d spotted Jinhyun sitting behind Seo Jaeoh. Recovering quickly, he’d made his way up the remaining steps, his movements stiff.

He seemed to think the encounter was a coincidence, not questioning Jinhyun’s presence. He simply acknowledged him with a brief glance before sitting down, as if they were barely acquaintances. Of course, he sat across from Seo Jaeoh. Cha Jinhyun was incredibly annoyed. Lee Taeun seeking out someone else, even with him right there, filled him with a petty sense of defeat.

They were close enough that their gazes kept meeting. Perhaps because of this, Taeun kept his head slightly lowered, arms crossed on the table, leaning towards Seo Jaeoh. His eyelids drooped, revealing a hint of his double eyelids. What’s so pretty about that? Jinhyun mentally argued with himself, then amended his thought.

His eyes were… admittedly pretty.

Lee Taeun had developed faint double eyelids around the time he graduated elementary school. The extra fold of skin accentuated his already round eyes, giving him a gentle appearance. Well, fine. The world had its standards of beauty, and Taeun’s eyes fit them. Other than that, nothing special. Jinhyun continued his internal debate, his gaze tracing Taeun’s long eyelashes.

His gaze naturally followed the smooth line of his nose and lips. For someone who constantly teased Jinhyun about his thick lips, Taeun’s own weren’t exactly thin. The perfectly symmetrical top and bottom lips formed a long oval. Soft, supple, doughy ovals that felt like… spreading jelly on his lips…

“…….”

Thud.

Something fell, hitting the floor.

The soft sound broke his train of thought. Jinhyun held his breath. The pen he’d been gripping so tightly that the veins in his hand bulged, slipped from his grasp. It rolled across the floor.

It wasn’t the perverse thoughts about Taeun’s lips, nor the snippets of their conversation, that had caused him to lose his grip. If it had been, the pen might have snapped in half. The lingering bitterness of that pity kiss, the feeling of having Taeun’s usual spot next to him usurped, were familiar.

This was different.

Taeun had smiled. The puffy skin beneath his eyes crinkled, revealing his white teeth. As he nodded, his soft hair fell across his forehead. And in that moment, Jinhyun, much to his dismay, understood Seo Jaeoh’s absurd words.

The realization filled him with an unsettling mix of excitement, embarrassment, and shame. The sudden surge of emotion coursed through him. He shook his hand involuntarily. The pen rolled towards Taeun, bumping against his shoe before stopping.

Jinhyun stared blankly at Taeun, not bothering to pick it up. Taeun glanced at the pen, then up at Jinhyun, and hesitantly picked it up. Seo Jaeoh closed his laptop and stood up, signaling the end of their meeting. Taeun looked hesitant, almost regretful.

Jinhyun watched his shifting expressions, not wanting to miss a single one. Taeun chewed on his lip and awkwardly approached him. The soft thud of his sneakers against the floor echoed loudly in Jinhyun’s ears. Jinhyun’s gaze, fixed on Taeun’s face, slowly moved upwards as he stood. Their eyes still didn’t quite meet. Taeun was avoiding his gaze.

“…Ahem.”

Taeun cleared his throat, placing the pen on Jinhyun’s table as if he were just passing by, then turned to leave. The scraping sound of his chair against the floor echoed through the relatively quiet cafe. Jinhyun stood up and grabbed Taeun’s arm.

Most of the cafe’s patrons were absorbed in their books, headphones on. Only Seo Jaeoh noticed them. Taeun’s face flushed with embarrassment.

“Wh-what.”

He glanced nervously at Seo Jaeoh, who was waiting for him, and tried to wriggle free. Jinhyun tightened his grip. The fabric of Taeun’s shirt crumpled in his hand.

“…Hey, it hurts, let go.”

“…….”

“Hey, Cha…”

“Let’s talk.”

He wanted to talk, to stall him. He didn’t want to let him go. Where are you going? Are you really living with him? Cha Jinhyun scrambled for words, like an actor thrust onto a stage without a script.

“I’m busy… I’ll contact you later.”

Taeun, standing awkwardly, glanced back and muttered a quiet refusal. His gaze lingered on someone else. Jinhyun felt a pang of anxiety watching Taeun’s eyes rest on someone who wasn’t him. An inexplicable unease spread through him. He couldn’t let him go like this.

“Will you even answer if I call?”

“…I didn’t see it.”

“Right, and you probably won’t be seeing it anytime soon.”

He resorted to petty bickering. Taeun was silent for a moment, searching for an excuse.

“…I said I’m busy. Let go.”

He repeated his refusal.

They were far enough from Seo Jaeoh that their conversation couldn’t be overheard. Still, Taeun lowered his voice to a near whisper, conscious of the other man’s presence. Jinhyun hated that too. Taeun’s averted gaze, his hushed tone, it twisted something inside him.

Look at me. You’re talking to me.

He wanted to grab Taeun’s face and force him to look. Jinhyun clenched his fist, suppressing the violent urge.

“Why are you busy?”

“…….”

“Ah… because of him?”

The sarcastic question was a product of his tangled emotions. Taeun, who had been avoiding his gaze, suddenly stiffened.

“Are you crazy? Watch your mouth.”

Welcoming him into his home, defending him at the slightest provocation… The pathetic sight was beyond laughable. The desperate urge to keep Taeun there fueled his clumsy words.

He’s weird. Don’t go. What makes you trust him enough to live with him? Come back. I’ll leave if I have to.

And even if he said all of that, it wouldn’t change anything. That’s what made him so frustrated. Jinhyun pulled Taeun closer. His voice, low and quiet, was meant only for Taeun’s ears.

“So that’s where you’ve been… Living with him now?”

“Hey.”

“What are you two doing that’s so important, important enough to abandon your… the person you like?”

“Fuck, hey.”

As soon as the pathetic whine left his lips, Taeun wrenched his arm free. His strength surprised Jinhyun, and he lost his grip. Taeun glared at him. He wasn’t so dense as to miss the vulgar implication in Jinhyun’s words. His voice, colder than usual, barely made it past his lips.

“Do you even want to be friends with me?”

The cheerful smile he’d seen earlier had vanished. Jinhyun finally noticed the pile of sand he’d crumbled beneath his feet.

“…Just now.”

“…….”

“Just now, I…”

The unrefined words caught in his throat.

“I misspoke.”

It was a childish excuse, like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

“That was bullshit. I’m sorry. Just give me a minute…”

“Don’t apologize.”

Jinhyun apologized quickly, ashamed of his pathetic behavior. Taeun cut him off sharply.

“Just keep… being an asshole. It’s better that way.”

“…….”

“But even as friends, you should watch what you…”

His sharp voice wavered. Sadness clouded his downcast eyes and strained expression. The warmth Jinhyun had seen earlier seemed like a mirage. He stared at his empty hand.

He realized then. It wasn’t about coming back, or contacting him, or getting a reply.

He’d simply seen Taeun smile, and realized, for the first time, that his smile was beautiful. He’d wanted to see it again, closer, for longer.

Jinhyun couldn’t voice any of it.

“…Contact me if you have something to say. I’ll reply.”

Taeun finally walked away. Seo Jaeoh, who had been silently observing, offered Jinhyun a small smile before gently placing a hand on Taeun’s shoulder. Jinhyun watched them leave, unable to do anything.

The anxiety he’d thought would disappear once he knew where Taeun was, instead exploded, fueled by his retreating figure. All his calculations and assumptions had been wrong. A strange heat coursed through him. But he couldn’t chase after them. He had no right.

And then, a foolish thought occurred to him. Why do I want a right?

He’d done everything he could. To remain friends, to maintain their connection. He’d even gotten Taeun’s verbal confirmation. He should have just waited patiently. He knew that. He was the problem.

He had no reason to crave a right he wasn’t entitled to. He shouldn’t. Yet he did. Why?

Jinhyun sighed, running a hand over his face. His head throbbed.

🔥

“Sorry, I was being difficult.”

Seo Jaeoh apologized as soon as he sat in the driver’s seat.

The brief encounter at the cafe had cast an awkward silence over their walk to the parking lot. What should I say if he asks? What if he asks what we talked about? Taeun’s mind raced with anxious questions. He paused, his hand halfway to the seatbelt. He looked at Seo Jaeoh, his eyes unfocused.

“What for?”

He’d thought about it, but there was nothing to apologize for. He decided to ask instead of overthinking. Click. The sound of the seatbelt locking into place accompanied the gentle vibration of the car starting. Seo Jaeoh didn’t drive off immediately. He turned slightly to face Taeun.

“I asked you to come up even though I knew your friend was there. It must have been awkward.”

“Oh…”

“I wanted to show off a little, that we’re getting along. And I thought your friend should know where you’re staying.”

“Uh… did you tell him?”

“Hmm, was I not supposed to?”

Blood is thicker than water, or so they said. Seo Jaeoh must have been trying to look out for him. Taeun shook his head quickly. From his perspective, knowing only that they’d fought, it made sense.

“No, it’s fine. I have to see him every Saturday anyway.”

“I know, but I regret it. It felt like I doubled the awkwardness.”

Seo Jaeoh smiled faintly. It was such a small smile, it almost seemed self-deprecating. He shifted the car into drive and gripped the steering wheel. The car slowly pulled out of the parking lot and into a narrow alley. Taeun continued to watch him. His composed expression was tinged with a certain melancholy, and Taeun felt a pang of sympathy. They were supposed to be having fun, but the atmosphere had become somber.

“Really, don’t worry about it. I’m completely fine.”

Taeun’s earnest repetition of “really” and “completely fine” made Seo Jaeoh bite back a smile. He found Taeun’s flustered attempts to reassure him amusing. He deliberately slumped his shoulders and lowered his voice.

“Because of me…”

Taeun frowned and started tapping his forehead with his fist. He’s taking it the wrong way. Seo Jaeoh looked away, hiding a smile.

“No, really, I’m fine! I swear on the River Styx.”

And he swore on the “River Styx.” Seo Jaeoh couldn’t help but laugh.

“We’re in Korea, Taeun.”

“Then the Han River.”

“Isn’t that a little too casual for an oath?”

At the sound of his laughter, Taeun seemed to relax. “That’s how fine I am,” he replied. He wasn’t actually fine. He just didn’t want to burden anyone with his emotional baggage.

“Forget the oath…”

The car emerged from the narrow alley and stopped at a red light. Seo Jaeoh tapped his fingers on the steering wheel.

“Can I ask why you two fought?”

“…I thought you already did.”

“I’m curious. You said you’ve known him for a… long time.”

“…….”

‘I confessed and got rejected. That’s why I moved out. Pathetic, right? Moving in with him was a mistake. The biggest mistake of my life, I’d say.’

The painful truth rose to the surface. What should I say? That he stole all my ice cream? Taeun scratched his chin, contemplating. A small lie leads to bigger lies. At this rate, his nose would grow like Pinocchio’s. He finally spoke.

“I… asked him for something.”

Making up a completely new story would only lead to more trouble. So he chose to be vague. It wasn’t entirely untrue.

“He acted like he was going to give it to me, then didn’t… so I got angry.”

Somehow, phrasing it like this made him sound like the one at fault. He was painting himself as a fool who threw a tantrum after being denied something he coveted.

“Ah, this sounds weird now that I’ve summarized it…”

“…….”

“It’s more like he gave it to me and then took it away… No, he didn’t actually give it to me, but it’s not like he didn’t give it to me either…”

The words tumbled out in a jumbled mess. He trailed off.

He’d begged for a piece of Jinhyun’s heart, and received a handful of kisses in return. Like Heungbu’s wife getting slapped with a rice-covered spatula. It was… unfair. It was difficult to explain indirectly. He fumbled for another analogy, then sighed. “It’s just… complicated,” he muttered, giving up. He couldn’t explain it properly, and he felt ridiculous even trying.

Through his countless clashes with Cha Jinhyun, Taeun had learned to give up. He’d also learned that the more he struggled to fix things, the worse they got. It was better to be seen as a childish brat than to get tangled in his own words. He fidgeted, waiting for Seo Jaeoh’s inevitable mockery.

“So, do you still want it?”

But contrary to his expectations, Seo Jaeoh didn’t laugh. He responded to Taeun’s clumsy explanation with surprising seriousness.

“…I don’t know.”

Maybe a little, he still wanted it. But he couldn’t give a definitive answer. This was proof that his feelings, slow but steady, were fading. He tried to reassure himself.

“Would you take it if he offered it to you again?”

“…….”

“He might change his mind.”

“…I don’t know about that either.”

Taeun rubbed his neck awkwardly.

Until recently, he’d often fantasized about dating Cha Jinhyun. But now, the thought was difficult. It wasn’t simply about the heartache, the pain.

He’d learned how awful and unwanted his feelings were. He’d been rejected in various ways. Experience was a powerful thing. It could erase years of fantasies. The feelings he’d cherished for years were apparently only precious to him. How ridiculous he must have looked, offering his treasured junk. A bitter smile touched Taeun’s lips.

“But that won’t happen.”

He just sees me as a dirty faggot now. Jinhyun’s harsh words echoed in his mind.

…I liked you. It’s not like I like all men.

He swallowed the words that rose to his throat. He rubbed his chest absently. It was a good thing he hadn’t lost his composure and shouted it at him.

“Even if he offers it later, don’t take it.”

Seo Jaeoh, who had been looking straight ahead, glanced at Taeun as he spoke.

“Have some self-respect, okay?”

It was strange for Seo Jaeoh to talk about self-respect… Taeun flinched, wondering if he’d somehow revealed his past struggles, but then casually nodded.

🔥

Movie, drinks, PC bang, karaoke, etc.

Taeun, who had been mentally listing the possible meanings of Seo Jaeoh’s “let’s hang out,” blinked in confusion at their unexpected destination. The sleek car had driven for twenty minutes, stopping at Seo Jaeoh’s officetel. Taeun had assumed they were going home. He was wrong.