Simmering Heat Chapter 14.2

After parking, Seo Jaeoh led Taeun to a nearby entertainment district, specifically a batting cage next to an arcade. Five metal doors creaked open, revealing batting cages with haphazardly draped green netting, the clang of metal echoing within.

Inside two of the cages, people were already swinging bats, the crack of aluminum echoing through the air. Taeun watched their rhythmic movements, then turned to Seo Jaeoh, his expression filled with sympathy.

He must have had a really rough day at work.

It was unusual for Seo Jaeoh, generally easygoing despite his occasional mischievousness, to seek solace in a batting cage. The working world is tough. Taeun patted Seo Jaeoh’s shoulder consolingly.

“Hyung, are you okay?”

“With what?”

“Work. Was it that bad?”

“Oh? Ah… It’s nothing. What about you, Taeun?”

Seo Jaeoh, who had just exchanged a 10,000 won bill for ten 1,000 won bills, furrowed his brow as if he hadn’t heard the question, then quickly changed the subject.

“Wasn’t it tough for you? Bars get a lot of strange customers.”

“I only worked for two hours… it was better than I expected.”

Taeun shook his head. It had gotten a bit, or rather, quite busy towards the end, but overall, it wasn’t bad. The work was mostly simple tasks, and he liked how time flew by when he didn’t have to think too much.

“Still, you need to relieve some stress. Don’t you just want to punch something after dealing with customers?”

The batting cages were divided into five sections, each with a different pitching speed. Taeun was contemplating between 80km/h and 100km/h when his head snapped towards Seo Jaeoh.

“You… wanted to punch me?”

Considering where they’d first met, Taeun couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt.

“You’re unbelievable.”

Seo Jaeoh chuckled at the half-serious accusation, stepping closer to Taeun. His arm brushed against Taeun’s back, then casually draped over his shoulder. Taeun stiffened slightly at the unexpected proximity, but decided against moving away. He was probably just being overly sensitive because of what Cha Jinhyun had said.

“Just hitting balls is boring. Want to make a bet?”

Seo Jaeoh’s low voice, close to his ear, sparked a glint of interest in Taeun’s eyes.

“What’s gotten into you? You used to scold me for suggesting bets.”

“You were a bit much. Who asks their cram school teacher to bet on who gets better grades?”

“Well… you were a student too back then.”

“Honestly, I never thought you’d actually come up to me and ask what grade I got.”

Seo Jaeoh chuckled, remembering high school Taeun, confidently approaching him and chirping, “Teacher, what grade did you get? Remember our bet? Hamburger bread!”

“Ah, you still remember that.”

Embarrassed by the prolonged laughter, Taeun shrugged off Seo Jaeoh’s arm.

“I wonder what grade Taeun will get this time.”

It was clearly meant as a tease. Taeun covered his ears dramatically, trying to drown out Seo Jaeoh’s voice.

“Forget that! What’s the bet? The prize is important.”

People who suggested bets usually had something they wanted. Lee Taeun, of course, just enjoyed the thrill of the game, but Seo Jaeoh wasn’t like that.

…Dishes? Laundry? Taeun wondered what he had in mind. He’d only been living there for a few days, but he thought he’d been doing a good job with the chores. Was there something he didn’t like? Taeun suddenly felt anxious.

“Let’s make a wish.”

Taeun relaxed at the vague answer. It was like a blank check, and he preferred it that way.

“Okay. Anything?”

“Anything.”

“I’m more of a soccer guy than baseball…”

“Should we switch then? There’s a soccer game next door. The one where you kick goals.”

“Um… no.”

He couldn’t back out now. Taeun shook his head resolutely. He wanted to swing a bat, not kick a ball. He wanted to smash that smug face with a baseball. Asshole. He cursed the image of a certain someone that had popped into his head.

“Want to go first?”

Seo Jaeoh asked. Taeun figured it was better to get it over with. He nodded.

“Let’s do it.”

“Are you sure about 100km/h?”

“…Am I?”

“Why are you asking me?”

Taeun, who had been climbing the steps to the 100km/h cage, stopped at Seo Jaeoh’s concerned tone. He wanted to go all out, but honestly, the difference between two and three digits was a little intimidating.

“Then… 80…”

“…….”

“Just in case. I have to study too.”

“Alright.”

Taeun, offering unsolicited excuses, stepped down and moved to the 80km/h cage. Seo Jaeoh, who had been watching from the bench, offered a cheerful, “Fighting!”

Inside the right-handed batter’s box, Taeun put on the provided batting gloves and picked up a well-worn bat. It was surprisingly heavy, even for aluminum. He tapped the silver bat on the floor a few times, then stretched his back and shoulders. A nervous energy settled over him.

…I should have chosen soccer.

Years away from a batting cage had deflated his confidence. He took a deep breath and inserted the bill. The old machine swallowed the 1,000 won bill. Whirr. The sound of the pitching machine gearing up made him tense.

What was I going to say?

The sudden thought distracted him, and he missed the first pitch.

Whatever. Taeun adjusted his grip on the bat. It probably wouldn’t have been anything good anyway. For the first time, he managed to not get his hopes up. It was a feeling he’d longed for, yet his heart felt cold.

🔥

“Please, one more time.”

Taeun clasped his hands together as soon as the first round ended. Lee Taeun, six hits. Seo Jaeoh, seven. Out of the fourteen pitches, that’s how many each of them had hit.

Taeun was quite pleased with his six hits, considering he hadn’t been to a batting cage in ages. It was probably thanks to Cha Jinhyun, he thought. Channeling his anger had helped him focus, sending the balls flying with every swing. Even Seo Jaeoh had been impressed, jokingly asking if he was a professional. Taeun, his ego inflated by the compliment, had already started thinking about what he would wish for.

But the score was 6 to 7. The agonizingly close defeat spurred him to demand a rematch. Seo Jaeoh, having already achieved his goal, considered for a moment, then suggested another game.

“How about we bet another wish? Call?”

“Call! I’m in, even if I lose.”

Taeun accepted without hesitation. The game was on.

Back in the batting cage, Taeun reverently stroked the bat and took his stance. The clang of the machine echoed through the cage. Four. He only managed to hit four balls.

He trudged back to the bench and anxiously watched Seo Jaeoh’s turn. The result: 4 to 5. The moment Seo Jaeoh hit the fifth ball, Taeun let out an involuntary cry of frustration. If it had been a two-point difference, he might have conceded defeat. But losing by one point again… He had to try one more time.

“Really, really last time. Best of three, right?”

Taeun pleaded, his downcast expression pathetic. Seo Jaeoh smiled awkwardly.

“Then let’s play one more time without a bet. Last one.”

Lee Taeun simply wanted to win, just once. The bet was no longer important. He nodded eagerly.

And so, the third game ended with a score of 6 to 5. Taeun, finally victorious, pumped his fist in the air, as if he’d won a gold medal. He now had two wishes to grant, but he was satisfied with the outcome of the long-fought battle.

They left the batting cage and went to a nearby restaurant for dinner. Limited by late-night options, they settled on a barbecue place.

And now, Lee Taeun was waging war against a plate of meat and bones. Watermelon seeds, chicken bones, long LA galbi bones… Taeun hated hard bits in his food. He’d choked on a fish bone as a child and had to go to the emergency room. The experience had left a lasting impression, and he’d developed a habit of meticulously removing seeds, bones, and anything else that wasn’t soft.

“You know, hyung, I’m a little hurt.”

Taeun swallowed the last bite of meat, now reduced to a small portion, and took a large gulp of water before speaking. Seo Jaeoh raised an eyebrow in question at the sudden complaint.

“About what?”

“You said you’ve been back in Korea for a while. But you never contacted me, even though you had my number. That’s cold.”

He’d suddenly remembered the call he’d received the evening they’d met at the cafe, even though he hadn’t given Seo Jaeoh his number. He’d assumed Seo Jaeoh had gotten it somehow.

“Ah.”

Seo Jaeoh simply sighed, offering no explanation. Silence followed. Taeun nervously plucked the stem off a lettuce leaf, feeling the awkwardness.

…Is that it? The conversation had stalled.

“Uh, what’s with the reaction?”

He tried to ignore the sudden heaviness in the air, forcing a playful tone. Seo Jaeoh pushed some cooked meat to the edge of the grill, chuckled, and met his gaze.

“Were you hurt?”

“I thought we had… you know, a strong teacher-student bond. But you just disappeared…”

Taeun’s rambling complaint abruptly stopped.

His flimsy conscience poked its head out. You’re one to talk. And his conscience even sounded like Cha Jinhyun. Taeun swallowed, feeling a pang of guilt. This is what happens when you do bad things… He couldn’t continue his feigned complaints and just chewed on his lettuce.

“I was really busy back then. I couldn’t contact anyone. It was chaotic.”

Apparently, his message had gotten across. Seo Jaeoh finally offered an explanation.

“And after you came back to Korea?”

“Well…”

He trailed off at the persistent questioning. This was unusual. Seo Jaeoh always seemed so composed. Lee Taeun’s playful nature emerged.

“Wow, I’m really hurt. Be honest. You weren’t planning on seeing me, were you?”

Taeun leaned back in his chair, exaggerating his tone of reproach. Seo Jaeoh, who had been silently observing, smiled faintly and replied.

“Did I get caught?”

His quick recovery and casual tone surprised Taeun.

“What, you’re serious?”

“Yeah, I tried really hard to avoid you, but we ran into each other.”

“…….”

And he was doubling down.

He’d given an inch and received a mile. Taeun was taken aback by the unexpected barb. …Was he joking or serious? He couldn’t tell. He probably didn’t mean it, but the serious tone was sowing seeds of doubt.

“…I’m actually starting to feel hurt.”

The prolonged silence was becoming awkward. Taeun, searching for a suitable response, decided to be honest.

“Haha, I’m kidding, you punk.”

“Who… jokes with such a serious voice?”

“Were you scared?”

Seo Jaeoh’s teasing glint irritated him. Taeun grabbed another piece of lettuce and devoured it like a starving goat. A petty act of frustration.

“A little.”

Seo Jaeoh laughed at his casual admission.

“Please use a higher tone when you’re joking in the future.”

“That’s a first. Eat up, your food’s getting cold.”

Seo Jaeoh placed a few remaining pieces of meat onto Taeun’s plate. Taeun picked up a boneless piece and ate it. He was hungrier than usual, having spent the day in classes and then at work. He looked at the nearly empty grill and picked up his metal chopsticks, switching to a two-handed grip to separate the meat from the bone. Just as he applied pressure, his chopsticks slipped.

The meat flew off the bone and landed with a plop in his glass of water. Seo Jaeoh stared at him, bewildered. Then his gaze shifted to the small pile of bones on Taeun’s plate.

“Do you want scissors?”

“Ah, yes.”

Taeun, mortified, took the scissors and roughly cut the meat. But the now bite-sized pieces of samgyeopsal remained untouched on his plate. He’d suddenly lost his appetite. He’d remembered someone who always picked the pieces with bones first.

“…….”

The casual kindness that had always surrounded him flickered like a phantom. Cha Jinhyun had always been kind like that. Subtle acts of kindness, easily overlooked, yet their absence left a gaping hole. That kind of thoughtfulness was cruel. It made him feel inexplicably vulnerable when he realized it was gone.

Taeun finished his meal, barely having eaten anything. He was still hungry.

🔥

It was late at night when they stepped outside, the moon shining brightly. The streets were bustling with Friday night revelers. …I want a drink. Taeun looked longingly at the noisy bars, each filled with its own stories. But he had a mountain of work to do, so he suppressed the urge. They walked home in silence.

Back at the officetel, Taeun spread his notes on the dining table and attempted to study, but quickly gave up, rationalizing, ‘I’ll work harder tomorrow.’ He gathered his scattered papers, yawned, and headed to the bathroom. He washed up, then collapsed onto the sofa, pulling the blanket-like duvet over himself. He reached for his phone.

He checked his messages, a pointless gesture. The silence was unbroken. Taeun sighed and set his alarm. Sleep was slowly creeping in. His hand loosened its grip on his phone, his eyelids fluttering closed.

“Taeun.”

He heard his name. “Ugh,” he groaned, sitting up. Seo Jaeoh was standing next to the sofa.

“Let’s use one of your wishes.”

It was an unexpected request. Wondering what he wanted at this hour, Taeun followed him groggily. Seo Jaeoh led him to the bedroom and sat on the bed, patting the mattress.

“Sleep on the bed from now on.”

His first wish. Taeun’s hazy consciousness snapped into focus. He hesitated, unsure whether to lie down. He stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, fiddling with his shirt. Seo Jaeoh fluffed Taeun’s pillow, which he’d apparently retrieved at some point.

“The sofa is uncomfortable.”

“…I’m really fine.”

“You keep saying that, so I’m using one of your wishes.”

It wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation. Seo Jaeoh had offered to share the bed on the day Taeun moved in.

“…The sofa is really comfortable.”

“I’ve slept on it. It’s not a good place to sleep.”

The queen-sized bed was big enough for two. Taeun just felt uncomfortable imposing on his host. …If I was worried about imposing, I shouldn’t have moved in. He knew further protests would be futile. And his attempts to be less of a burden were only making Seo Jaeoh uncomfortable.

“Tell me if it’s uncomfortable. I like the sofa. It’s like a cradle.”

“Alright.”

Taeun finally sat on the edge of the bed and lay down. It was definitely more comfortable than the narrow sofa.

“Taeun.”

“Yes?”

“You can move closer. You’re going to fall off.”

“I…”

I like sleeping curled up. The words formed in his mind but didn’t make it past his lips. It would be rude to keep refusing his kindness. Taeun awkwardly shuffled closer. Their shoulders touched. Seo Jaeoh sat up slightly and pulled the duvet higher, covering Taeun’s chest. Taeun furrowed his brow and tilted his head. The words tumbled out.

“Sometimes, hyung, you’re a bit… too much.”

He’d only meant to say that it was a little strange, but his unfiltered thoughts had come out sounding negative.

“…Oh.”

The air suddenly felt heavy. Taeun quickly tried to backpedal.

“No, I don’t mean it like that. Even though you were my teacher, you let me stay at your place even though I had nowhere to go… I would have hesitated. I don’t dislike it.”

“…….”

“What I mean is… you’re kind… kind.”

Taeun stammered, the words jumbled. Seo Jaeoh remained silent, his expression unreadable. Damn it, my mouth. Lee Taeun wanted to punch himself.

“I’m not that kind.”

The answer, after a long silence, was unexpected. Taeun swallowed the retort, ‘If you’re not kind, then who is?’ He didn’t want to dwell on the topic.

“Let’s sleep. It’s late.”

“O-okay.”

Shit, I stuttered again. I should have just said okay, why did I say ‘o-okay’… Taeun wanted to bite his tongue and disappear. He’d tried to lighten the mood and ended up sounding like an idiot. He turned away, mortified. Living in someone else’s house was hard.

…I need to move out as soon as possible. He closed his eyes, the thought heavy on his mind.