Simmering Heat Chapter 5.1

“Let’s do it, huh?”

Counting the days, it was exactly the fifth day today.

“Jinhyun-ah, baby! Let’s do it. Please, let’s do it.”

Ever since his club invitation was rejected, Kim Sunghyun had been trailing Cha Jinhyun, pestering him relentlessly.

Jinhyun thought Sunghyun would give up if ignored, but contrary to appearances, the guy was surprisingly persistent. As Jinhyun left the business school after class, Sunghyun, as if lying in wait, latched onto him, now skipping subjects entirely in his pleading. His ambiguous behavior caused Jinhyun’s brow to furrow slightly.

“…Oppa, is he someone you know?”

A junior walking beside Jinhyun asked him.

“Nah, some random guy.”

Jinhyun answered plainly.

“What do you want for lunch?”

As Jinhyun’s question followed, the junior, who’d been glancing at Sunghyun, was about to respond when—

“I’m craving pasta today, how’s that?”

Kim Sunghyun, walking right beside them, intercepted with a friendly smile. The question wasn’t directed at him. The junior, meeting the gaze of this stranger poking his head forward, hesitated and looked up at Jinhyun. Who is this guy? Her eyes seemed to ask.

“Hey, get lost.”

“What, oh… was this a date? Should I bounce?”

They say you can’t spit on a smiling face. The junior recalled the wisdom of that proverb. To the grinning guy, she replied, “No, it’s fine,” a bit awkwardly, and Sunghyun clapped his hands in delight.

“Really? That’s a relief. I’ve got some tact, you know—no way I’d crash a couple’s vibe. Oh, did I startle you? I’m Jinhyun’s friend. Visual design major.”

It might’ve been a prejudiced thought, but hearing Sunghyun’s major, the junior thought, Of course.

“Jinhyun and I were in the same group for a convergence class. They still run that course. Memories, man, memories.”

The guy embodied the stereotypical design major vibe. His bright yellow hair, the freshly pierced eyebrow—still red and swollen—and the baggy outfit that somehow looked stylish all screamed it.

“Anyway, pasta’s a go then? I’m cool with anything, really. I’ve got a favor to ask Jinhyun, so I’ll treat.”

Without even checking Cha Jinhyun’s opinion, Kim Sunghyun’s mouth moved like a flowing stream. Deciding Jinhyun was a lost cause, Sunghyun shifted his focus, targeting the junior aggressively.

“Seungyeon-ah, let’s eat another time. This guy’s making it impossible.”

Before she could ponder, Jinhyun cut off any chance of a three-way meal. Seungyeon looked a bit disappointed but nodded lightly.

“Okay. But you’re buying.”

“Pick a menu.”

“Yesss, something expensive then. Oh, your friend… enjoy lunch.”

Still respectful of her senior, Seungyeon bowed to Sunghyun before heading off in another direction. Sunghyun, waving at her, lowered his hand to cover his mouth. Oh my. A giddy exclamation slipped through his fingers.

“What’s that? What’s going on with you two?”

“Hey, you’re the one who screwed it up, so you disappear.”

“Of course, naturally. But seriously, what’s up? If Minyoung finds out, she’ll flip.”

I should eat something insanely expensive. Jinhyun, searching nearby restaurants, paused. Something clicked at the familiar name, and with a soft ah, he tapped his phone again. Minyoung was his girlfriend. Or rather—

“It’s been a while since we broke up.”

To be precise, his ex-girlfriend.

“…Weren’t you two together until last month?”

“Yeah. Not this month.”

What, a monthly subscription romance? To Kim Sunghyun, who had firm beliefs about love, Cha Jinhyun’s approach to relationships was utterly baffling.

Love was supposed to be intense, fiery, all-consuming. You’d go crazy without it, miss it even when it’s right there. Isn’t that what love’s about? But from what Sunghyun observed, Cha Jinhyun was a total miss.

His relationships flowed like watered-down liquor or liquor-diluted water. Unlike Sunghyun, who preferred long, heavy connections, Jinhyun stitched together short, broken romances. The weight they placed on partnerships was fundamentally different.

As the saying goes, like attracts like—most of Jinhyun’s partners started at a similar temperature. But not everyone could keep up, and occasionally, like rare beans in a drought, people like Sunghyun appeared. Hearts overflowing, born for passionate love.

Those types logged the shortest stints in Jinhyun’s already brief dating history. So whenever Sunghyun saw someone like himself getting close to Jinhyun, he’d send urgent warning signals to scare them off. A kind of volunteer work, you could say.

“So, she’s your new love?”

“If you weren’t messing things up like this?”

His voice, half-joking, half-serious, was light.

“You couldn’t wait and already moved on to someone else?”

“Never chased anyone. Just no reason to say no.”

“Wow… trash.”

How long had it even been since the breakup? For Sunghyun, who saw post-breakup pain as part of love’s package, this was unthinkable.

“Hey, let’s go here.”

Ignoring Sunghyun’s jab, Jinhyun showed his phone. The screen displayed a portal site with reviews for a fancy Korean restaurant. Sunghyun scrolled, stopping dead at a photo of the menu.

“You’re actual trash.”

Lunchtime basic course: 50,000 won per person. Maybe affordable for some, but to a mere college student like him, it was highway robbery.

“Was gonna hear you out, but if you’re not down, forget it.”

“Let’s go, let’s go. You jerk. Eat whatever you want.”

“Thanks.”

“You better not reject me after this, or I’ll kill you, got it?”

“It’s worth a listen.”

He talked big, but if Jinhyun had no intention, he wouldn’t have asked in the first place. Sunghyun, hopeful, dragged his heavy steps. 100,000 won… He’d have to survive on cafeteria food for a week. Resolving to recruit Cha Jinhyun no matter what, he pressed on.

The restaurant, not far from the main gate, was fairly quiet. After ordering the basic course, Sunghyun poured water into a cup. It was cloudy tea brewed from bellflower leaves.

“It’s really solid, I’m telling you. Way more structured than the convergence class, and it’ll definitely help you out.”

Handing over a ceramic cup, Sunghyun dove straight into business, picking up their earlier conversation. Jinhyun showed no real reaction—a subtly positive sign.

From there, Sunghyun launched into a spiel like a door-to-door salesman, rattling off the perks of the joint club DDP. Comparable to big companies’ student internship programs, it offered seminars with startup professionals and feedback on production services. Plus, a prime chance to network with versatile talent. Spittle flying, Sunghyun’s pitch made Jinhyun feel like he’d wandered into a pyramid scheme briefing.

“All good, I get it.”

Soon, a server brought neatly plated dishes, setting the table. Seizing the pause, Cha Jinhyun spoke.

“If you’re doing it, just do it yourself. Why’re you so desperate to drag me in?”

“‘Cause you’re the best, obviously. You know I’ve got high standards.”

“If you’re not gonna answer straight, don’t bother. I’m not that curious.”

The server bowed briefly after setting up. Jinhyun nodded back, responding to Sunghyun.

“Yeah, I don’t wanna work with weirdos. We’ve teamed up before—you’re a proven asset.”

Sunghyun fired off a crisp answer rapid-fire. In their sophomore first semester, during a joint business-design convergence class, they’d been in the same group, acing the project together. Sunghyun particularly admired Jinhyun’s flawless, polished proposals.

“Then just don’t do it.”

“I need to build my portfolio here for next year’s internships. Corporate execs join the final presentation. Impress them, maybe score a business card. I’m even on the organizing team this time—I don’t wanna tank it with bad teammates.”

In the end, it was a plea for help because he wanted to work with Jinhyun. Jinhyun mentally scanned his schedule. First semester had some wiggle room, so it wasn’t impossible, but it felt like a hassle. Especially syncing with teammates, explaining, persuading—those parts seemed like a major pain.

“Whether it’s this guy or that guy, why’s everyone so obsessed with bugging me…”

Jinhyun muttered, picking up some seasoned radish. Sunghyun’s eyes gleamed with curiosity, catching the mumble.

“This guy’s me, so who’s that guy?”

“Who do you think?”

Kim Sunghyun, nibbling a fist-sized tteokgalbi, chewed while mentally listing candidates for “that guy.” After swallowing, he let out an “Aha?”—a meaningless exclamation.

“Taeun?”

Calling him so familiarly despite never meeting. Jinhyun didn’t reply. A silent affirmation.

“Still going on about that? Just let it go.”

Somehow, the topic shifted to Lee Taeun. Not exactly a smooth transition.

“Why should I?”

“He even bought your favorite chicken to apologize. I’d let it slide. He just takes that kind of treatment? Weird.”

At the absurd remark, Cha Jinhyun scoffed, letting out a mocking huff. Who was just taking it?

Trying to talk, bringing chicken, beer, asking why only to clam up with rolling eyes—felt like he was being toyed with. Then yesterday, empty-handed, banging on the door. The noise too loud to ignore, Jinhyun opened it to hear, Can’t you just let it go? Swallowing his bite, he took a sip. Just took it? Hardly.

“He was crying.”

Not that he saw full-on sobbing. But he caught the reddened eyes, the strained face. Had he stepped out later, he might’ve seen Taeun in tears. Had he ever seen Lee Taeun cry? It was so long ago, he couldn’t recall. The unfamiliar sight honestly startled him.

“Who, Taeun?”

Sunghyun’s tone saying Taeun’s name was oddly warm. You’d think he’s the friend, not me, Jinhyun thought, wiping his mouth.

“How harsh were you to make him cry? You’re ruthless.”

“Get it right. I didn’t do anything. He just lost it on his own, throwing fits that didn’t work, so he caved.”

It was over with Lee Taeun three years ago. Without Jinhyun’s choice, without explanation. Now, Taeun’s efforts to reconnect, fail, and hurt were his own doing, his consequences. Cha Jinhyun had no interest in indulging in something he wasn’t responsible for. Especially if Taeun wouldn’t even explain the cause of his actions.

“So, you’re gonna keep this up unless he says why he ghosted you?”

“Yup. That’s why I agreed to live together.”

The time they’d spent wasn’t for nothing—Jinhyun knew Taeun’s personality and tendencies better than anyone. Taeun, who loved socializing and couldn’t stand awkwardness, must find this unbearable. Jinhyun planned to teach him what you reap what you sow means. In this setup, Jinhyun had nothing to lose either way.

“Man… ugh, Jinhyun-ah. Let’s never fight, okay?”

Sunghyun downed a cup of water, awkwardly wrapping up. A reliable ally, but a nightmare enemy, going all out to screw you over. Silently mourning the unknown Taeun, Sunghyun grabbed his bag.

Time had passed while eating and talking. Cha Jinhyun finished around the same time, packing up to leave. Sunghyun’s hand trembled handing the card to the server. Even outside, he didn’t forget to nag, “Dude, I paid. Don’t betray me after eating my money.”

With classes left, Sunghyun headed back to campus, and they parted at the main gate intersection.

As Jinhyun stood at the crosswalk, the pedestrian signal turned green. Straight ahead, then a right turn, and he’d reach the 12-story building he shared with Lee Taeun. Less than ten minutes away. Seeing Taeun’s school beyond the wall, the early morning came to mind.

Lee Taeun, as usual, had yelled while shutting off alarms, scrambling up. So sleepy yet picks all morning classes. Idiot. Pointless thoughts cycled as Jinhyun reached home. Instead of going in, he headed to the building’s smoking area. To mull over Sunghyun’s offer and have a cigarette.

After lighting up and taking a couple drags, he felt a stare prickling the side of his head. Looking up, Lee Taeun was walking from the opposite alley, staring at him. Their eyes met. On a call, Taeun had his phone to his right cheek. Startled, his steps halted.

On any other day, Jinhyun would’ve looked away, but today, he didn’t feel like it.

Taeun, with no trace of tears, looked like the same old him. Jinhyun thought nothing had changed since three years ago, but maybe yesterday’s impact made him seem different. Details stood out—like his jaw, slimmer from lost baby fat or weight, or his eyes, maybe a touch deeper.

“Cough, cough!”

Staring back, Lee Taeun let out a small cough, almost like a hiccup. Clearing his throat, he didn’t break eye contact, sparking Jinhyun’s odd curiosity.

It was a deeply impulsive act.

Jinhyun raised his hand slightly. Like back when he’d wave to Lee Taeun without hesitation, mimicking that gesture as closely as possible. Seeing Taeun’s face light up, Jinhyun suppressed a laugh. At his small motion, Taeun waved back faintly, like an idiot.

Jinhyun shifted the cigarette to his raised hand, taking a deep drag to burn it down fast, then tossed it into the ashtray. He deliberately shook his hand dismissively. Taeun’s hopeful expression dimmed quickly.

Jinhyun found it mildly amusing. A bit more fun than when the signal changed instantly at the crosswalk. With a lighter heart, he headed to the building’s entrance. A fleeting urge to look back brushed his neck and vanished.

🔥

Lee Taeun, seen outside, didn’t come in for a while.

Cha Jinhyun, half-expecting him to barge in fuming over the prank, stared at the quiet door before retreating to his room. Somehow, it felt anticlimactic. Wondering if Taeun was standing there, eyes red again, he glanced out the window, but the street was empty. Maybe he wasn’t coming home. A faint curiosity stirred, but that was it. He went to his desk and opened his laptop.

The first week of classes, mostly orientation, was practically a break. Not a time to laze around, though. Cha Jinhyun sorted handouts from the week into liberal arts and majors, prioritizing them.

He jotted down notes or schedules needing attention, syncing them with the academic calendar on his laptop. Filling his calendar sparsely up to June, he leaned back. The schedule was looser than expected, thanks to nailing his pre-planned course registrations.

Then he headed to a café across the street. Too early for dinner, and a late lunch left him unhungry. Planning to substitute coffee for a meal, he was waiting for his order when classmates messaged. Why’re you so hard to catch? Where you at? His phone buzzed nonstop.

The gist: hit the PC bang if free. It was early evening, sun setting. Been a while. After brief thought, Jinhyun asked their location. His roommate, a PC bang regular back in school, crossed his mind. Had things not turned out this way, they might still be gaming together. The thought bloomed unconsciously but faded fast.

After gaming in a bustling PC bang and smoking a few cigarettes, it was dark out. Checking the time, a few hours had passed. Brushing off friends urging drinks, Jinhyun headed home. “Off to see your girl?” “Damn, jealous!” Playful jeers trailed him, and he lazily flipped them off. Spring was still chilly.

Back home, he went straight to the bathroom. Tossing smoke-soaked clothes into the laundry, he showered quickly. In his tidy room, he lay down, grabbing his phone. A message from Kim Sunghyun waited—obvious content, so he didn’t check. The phone’s digital clock ticked from 22:48 to 22:49. Lee Taeun still wasn’t home.

Sunghyun’s earlier jab echoed faintly—How harsh were you to make him cry?

“Over this?”

Defiance flared. He hadn’t even returned half of what Lee Taeun did. If this was enough for Taeun to “run away,” Jinhyun was the wronged one. Not a runaway, probably. Taeun had nowhere to go—Jinhyun knew his family was renting out their place.

Thoughts looped a few times. Checking the clock at 23:18, he scoffed, tossing the phone beside his pillow. Why was he even wondering about Taeun’s whereabouts? Earlier than usual, but better to sleep than dwell on nonsense. Confirming his alarm, he closed his eyes. After tossing briefly, Jinhyun sank into sleep’s swamp.

About two hours later.

“Uweeek…”

A retching sound pierced his ears, waking him.

At first, he thought it was a dream. Then, maybe some drunk clinging to a pole outside. Urk, ugh, uuuugh… But the relentless noise confirmed it. The crazy drunk was in this house’s bathroom.

The eerie groans rivaled a patient enduring an unanesthetized endoscopy. Over time, Jinhyun clocked the vomiting pattern. Huff, huff… First, labored breathing. Urk, ugh. Then pained sounds, like stomach skin stretching. Uweeeeek. Finally, a forward-aimed war cry.

Cha Jinhyun flung off the blanket irritably, sitting up. Forced awake, he even felt a slight urge to pee.

“Fuck…”

Sleep-laced curses dripped with annoyance. First, he needed to shut that drunk’s trap to sleep.

“…”

The bathroom door wasn’t even closed—must’ve rushed in. Flinging it open, the sight was a mess. A canvas bag sprawled by the drain, a laptop pouch rolling on the floor, and a puffy jacket haphazardly draped over the sink. Was he gonna hand-wash it? The owner knelt before the toilet, cheek pressed to the hard rim, looking exactly like he did napping on a desk during study hall.

Hrr… hrrr… Taeun’s torso twitched faintly with weird breaths. Jinhyun slipped on bathroom slippers and approached.

Crouching beside him, Taeun’s closed-eyed face filled his view. After heaving for so long, Taeun’s lashes were soaked. Jinhyun considered stuffing toilet paper in his mouth or tossing him outside, but the pathetic sight deflated him.

“Must’ve been real upset.”

Jinhyun propped his chin on his knee, voice oddly gentle. Of course, it was a jab since Taeun couldn’t hear. He felt a twinge of pity too. Taeun had a high tolerance. To be this wrecked, vomiting uncontrollably, meant at least four or five bottles of soju solo.

“Shouldn’t have been so stubborn.”

He muttered low. No way he’d warmly welcome someone who ditched him first. If he were that easy, life would be simpler, but sadly, he wasn’t.

“Tough luck—you don’t talk, I don’t budge.”

Taeun’s frantic efforts to fix things while stubbornly staying silent were unexpected. Jinhyun guessed there was a big reason he couldn’t spit out. Now, he was genuinely curious. What’s so huge he’s acting like this?

“Urp.”

As if answering Jinhyun’s mumble, Taeun let out a massive burp. Smacking his lips after the boozy breath, it seemed the vomiting was done.

“Ha, seriously.”

Jinhyun sighed shortly, bemused. Time to end the sentimental chatter. Feeling the growing urge to pee, he grabbed Taeun’s shoulder.

“Hey, get up.”

“Ugh… krrh…”

“Wanna get pissed on?”

Shaking his shoulder firmly, Taeun’s brow creased.

“Ugh, what…”

Still eyes closed, he mumbled. Jinhyun lightly tapped Taeun’s cheek. Taeun squinted like a baby animal.

“Uh… Jinhyun-ah.”

His unfocused eyes locked onto Jinhyun, a goofy smile spreading. Dropping his shirt from the toilet, Taeun leaned forward, moving like a giraffe reaching for grass.

“Get up. Go sleep in your room.”

“…Why’s he talking to me?”

Tilting his head, Taeun scanned Jinhyun, then grabbed his forearm with a thunk.

“Another dream…”

Muttering weakly, Taeun’s head drooped.

“Hey.”

More unintelligible grumbling followed, like a humming fridge. He’s totally gone. Jinhyun clicked his tongue, trying to pry off the hand.

“I missed…”

But the next words froze Jinhyun’s movements. Did I hear that right?

“Cha Jinhyun…”

“…”

Talking to me? Before he could process, Taeun mumbled on. Drunk out of his mind. Jinhyun shook his arm free, standing to haul Taeun up. Since he wouldn’t walk, Jinhyun planned to drag him to his room.

Urrr… Taeun flailed, twisting with a weird groan.

“Goddamn it…”

Just holding his shoulders wouldn’t cut it. Jinhyun half-carried him, supporting his weight. Near passing out, Taeun’s ragged breaths hit Jinhyun’s collarbone.

Kicking open Taeun’s door, Jinhyun dumped the limp body onto the bed. How long since moving in? The room was a disaster. Clothes draped everywhere—chair, bed, desk—like the closet was pointless. Resisting the urge to shove it all out of sight, Jinhyun headed back to the bathroom.

Tossing the sink’s jacket out, he gathered Taeun’s bag and scattered items. Then—

“…”

A familiar paper, its corner damp, caught his eye. Jinhyun picked it up, reading slowly. It was the same flyer Kim Sunghyun gave him, though his was for the “planning part,” and this was “design part.” Technically different, but both from the joint club DDP.

He crumpled the paper into Taeun’s bag. After rinsing the filthy bathroom and taking care of business, he returned to his room. Lying down, eyes closed, sleep wouldn’t come—he was fully awake.

Did he sign up knowing? Nah. Jinhyun hadn’t even joined yet.

So, pure coincidence. The same odd feeling from Taeun’s drunken ramblings hit again. Uneasy, maybe annoyed, but not quite.

At first, he was pissed. Sharing space didn’t justify keeping ties. He’d planned to mess with Taeun enough to cut him off, as Taeun wanted. Watching him flounder to fix things was amusingly pathetic.

Now, he was curious.

Curious about the reason Taeun, who said he missed him, still wouldn’t explain for ditching him. This need to know felt like stubborn pride. The aimless, inexplicable situation annoyed him. That’s exactly what his relationship with Lee Taeun was now.

Leaning against the headboard, Jinhyun grabbed his phone, tapping the top of his call log.

—What’s up at this hour?

The ringtone quickly gave way to an excited voice. Kim Sunghyun.

🔥

They say humans are creatures of adaptation.

Barely awake, Taeun dragged his creaking body up. 8:16. To make his 9:00 class, he had to wash now. Despite more free time than when he commuted two hours, the exhaustion felt the same. Go figure.

He washed quickly, slipped on sneakers haphazardly, and glanced at the shoe rack. Cha Jinhyun’s shoes were gone.

Three days had passed since he drank himself half to death.

Taeun got drunk slowly. He’d feel a light buzz, but by the time he got home, he’d be out of it. Same this time. He remembered the convenience store, but after that, his memory was sliced clean. One thing lingered—a dream of Cha Jinhyun.

In the dream, Taeun was sprawled by the toilet, exhausted from vomiting, and Cha Jinhyun spoke kindly. It’s just a dream, he thought, so he said what he’d always wanted. Jinhyun’s face turned sour, like he’d bitten a bitter persimmon, making Taeun think, Even in dreams, this jerk’s like this… It was a mournful feeling. The short dream ended there.

Luckily, the next day was Saturday. All Taeun did over the weekend was check the safety of the cash he’d withdrawn.

Despite pulling out a ton, he didn’t run into Cha Jinhyun. Maybe at his parents’ place—Jinhyun was gone all weekend. By Sunday night, revived, Taeun debated calling, hesitated for hours, and dialed, but, as expected, no answer. It bugged him. Did he change his number? Probably not.

“…Service design has five key traits: empathy, collaboration, systems thinking, experimentalism, and integrative thinking. A widely used process is the double diamond model…”

Time marched on, complaints or not. A new week began. Taeun sat at the back of the lecture hall, attending the hard-won “Media Interaction” class. Tapping his laptop while eyeing the projector’s PowerPoint, his fingers stopped when Park Kiwon nudged his shoulder.

“So, you got in?”

Glancing over, Park Kiwon whispered teasingly. Not long ago, Taeun had whined about botching his course registration. Kiwon seemed curious about how Taeun secured a spot.

“Went to the prof. Ugh, thinking about it still gives me chills…”

“They flat-out said no on the first day. Thought you were screwed.”

“Not exactly—they said I had to join some club.”

Click. As the slide changed, Lee Taeun resumed typing. Park Kiwon, claiming laptops were heavy, scribbled on a shiny new tablet bought upon returning to school. Tch. They say others’ grass looks greener—Taeun eyed the pristine pad, then patted his laptop.

“Club?”

Kiwon’s reaction seemed off.

“Yeah. What was it, DDP? Reminded me of Dongdaemun.”

As Taeun muttered, Kiwon’s hand froze.

“You didn’t hear from Kim Hyoju?”

“Hear what?”

“Guess you’re just doomed either way.”

“What, you lunatic?”

Kiwon’s pitying look without explanation prompted Taeun to jab his side. Kiwon deftly blocked.

“Word got out, so no one signed up, and they roped you in…”

“What’re you talking about? Word?”

“That club—Kim Hyoju did it last year.”

“So?”

“First time I saw her drunk.”

Taeun’s busy fingers faltered. Incredulous. Just then, the professor announced a ten-minute break. The quiet hall buzzed, and Kiwon raised his voice.

“Some IT service club, right? Joint with other schools… Last year was such a mess, some quit midway. Heard the prof’s mentoring design this time. No one from our department signed up, so they pushed you in. Brutal.”

“…It’s just a club. How bad could it be?”

“I wouldn’t know, never tried. But Hyoju got drunk and ranted, ‘Fucking shitty assholes. Think they know better than me?’”

Taeun burst out laughing at Kiwon’s spot-on impression. He’d thought the prof’s offer was too good for a course add. Now the backstory made sense. He’d looked into it after the prof’s pitch.

Joint club DDP—named after the first letters of Designer, Developer, Project Manager. An IT service creation club, it held study sessions by field, then formed teams to build mobile services. That was the basics, but it was well-structured. The final week featured presentations to top industry execs, a legit system.

“Didn’t seem that weird…”

If anything, it felt like a jackpot.

“Well, do it right, and your portfolio’s golden. Includes development… Hyoju landed an internship with hers.”

“Then why’s she badmouthing it?”

“That’s one thing, this is another, she said.”

Hyoju wasn’t one to struggle easily, so it was unsettling, but too late to back out. He’d already agreed to submit the application after class. The prof, for some reason, took a liking to Taeun, promising to put in a word—if he aced the interview, he was in.

“Kim Hyoju must’ve had bad luck.”

At this point, dwelling only on the negatives was like gnawing at his own flesh. To ease his worries, Taeun chalked up his friend’s past to unfortunate circumstances and tucked it away.

“Maybe… But, do you remember that day?”

He was talking about last Friday, the day Taeun drank like crazy and went wild. Lee Taeun nodded.

“Up until we left the bar… I swear I can still smell that dishcloth on my face.”

“Idiot. Sojin noona’s all fired up because of you now. Kim Hyoju’s just a bonus.”

“Isn’t that place supposed to be burning for final projects?”

The two seniors were oddly enthusiastic about something strange. Still, it wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

That day, Taeun, drunk on liquor and emotions, had spilled all sorts of things, but it left him feeling lighter. He was a bit embarrassed but grateful for the people who cared so much about him. Because of that, a weird sense of duty—to live up to their expectations—took root in a corner of his heart.

“So, did you talk?”

Sojin had already been nagging him about not reporting back.

“Nah, that guy must’ve run off or something—he didn’t come home all weekend.”

“What’s your plan?”

Plan? What plan?

“I’ve got it all figured out…”

Taeun touched the thick envelope of cash inside his coat, flashing a smug grin.

🔥

Clearly, Lee Taeun had misunderstood the concept of a fine, Cha Jinhyun thought.

If not that, maybe he’d won the lottery. Or perhaps he’d decided to completely disrespect Jinhyun.

Over the weekend, Jinhyun met Kim Sunghyun. He laid out a condition to Sunghyun, who’d joined the joint club’s organizing team. If they put Lee Taeun in the same group as him, he’d join. Running into Taeun briefly at home had limits in pressuring him. At this rate, Jinhyun planned to make it so Taeun couldn’t hold out without spilling his big secret.

Sunghyun was shocked at first—“Taeun’s joining too?!”—and then suspicious, asking what Jinhyun was scheming. Cha Jinhyun gave no answers. Sunghyun seemed satisfied enough just getting his application.

After that, Jinhyun stayed at his parents’ place until Sunday. “You getting along with Taeun?” his mom asked, and he just nodded vaguely.

He returned to the apartment around Monday lunchtime. Lee Taeun, back from morning classes, was on the couch watching TV. An awkward silence hung between them. Unlike the previous week, Taeun didn’t approach warmly, strike up a chat, or even greet him. He seemed downcast. What face will he make when we meet at the club? Imagining Taeun’s dumbfounded look made Jinhyun’s lips twitch. He looked away and went to his room.

One month. At least one month, and Lee Taeun would spill his hidden truth with his own mouth. That’s what Jinhyun predicted.

“…What’re you doing?”

Until Taeun sheepishly held out a 10,000-won bill.

“I’m gonna talk to you.”

“So, what’s this?”

“You said to pay a fine if I mess up.”

Thinking he was downcast was a mistake. Taeun, who’d slipped into Jinhyun’s room without a sound, looked down at him with a bold expression. Jinhyun had always thought Taeun was great at pulling crazy stunts, but this kind of mental pivot was impressively fresh.

“You didn’t take out the trash.”

Jinhyun tested him with a random comment. Taeun, as if waiting, pulled another 10,000-won bill from a thick envelope and placed it on the desk. A hollow laugh escaped at the sight of the two shyly placed bills. It was absurd.

“But 10,000 per word? That’s a bit tough… It’s 10,000 per conversation, right?”

His finances didn’t seem flush. Didn’t he know he could just not do this? Taeun’s worried face, gauging Jinhyun’s reaction, was almost pitiful.

“You know what a fine is, right?”

“Yeah. That’s why I’m paying it now.”

It was the kind of answer you’d hear from a spoiled chaebol in a drama. Jinhyun wondered if this was a prank to piss him off but concluded it wasn’t.

And that was the right call. Taeun was completely sincere.

Conversation! Sojin had told Taeun to just talk. But he was totally shut out, and there was even a fine. So, after racking his rock-hard brain, Taeun came up with this: pay the fine to talk. Since he’d paid a fair price, he had every right to a conversation. I’m kinda smart… he thought, but it was completely off from Sojin’s intent.

“I know you’re mad. And last time, I… got a bit carried away. Yeah.”

Fumbling with the cash envelope like a nouveau riche, Taeun spoke. Jinhyun, with a dumbfounded look, listened silently, daring him to continue.

“But, don’t you think you’re being a bit much too? We live together—ignoring someone like that… Not that I didn’t screw up… But you’re kinda harsh too. Oh, I mean, I definitely messed up.”

Taeun’s words tangled, rambling. His habit of repeating himself when flustered hadn’t changed.

“What’re you trying to say?”

If left alone, he’d loop endlessly: I messed up, but you’re harsh, but I messed up. Jinhyun cut him off appropriately.

“Let’s eat grilled chicken. I’ll buy.”

After paying a fine, all he wanted was to eat chicken. What a ridiculous guy. Maybe the absurdity worked, but Jinhyun wavered briefly. Since hearing Taeun mumble I missed you, his heart had softened a bit. Taeun seemed clueless about what he’d blurted that night.

“No thanks.”

Still, wrong was wrong. If he gave in here, he’d get swept up in this nonsense and never hear the reason. Jinhyun turned to his open laptop, signaling the end of the talk.

Taeun didn’t leave, peering into his envelope, pondering. Try again? But wasting resources after a rejection might hinder future plans.

Since it came to this, Taeun planned to cling stubbornly. Just seduce him. It was half-joking advice, but he thought similarly. If the relationship was beyond repair, feeding his undying feelings wouldn’t change much.

This was truly the last shot. Taeun didn’t just want to go back to being friendly pals. He wanted something deeper, warmer, which is why he could act so recklessly. There was no lower to fall. His iron will was backed by a bank account now at zero.

“Hm… got it.”

So, he’d retreat cleanly for now. Nodding, Taeun tucked away the thick envelope. Jinhyun, slightly surprised, hid it, pointlessly clicking his mouse. Unfazed by the familiar indifference, Lee Taeun continued.

“For now, I’ll head out today.”

“…”

“Just… get a piggy bank or something. You’ll lose it leaving it on the desk like that.”

With that, Taeun turned away. Jinhyun, now alone, glanced back at the door. Get a piggy bank? What kind of declaration of war was that?

What kind of guy is this?

🔥

Adjusting his outfit in the shoe rack’s mirror, Taeun’s Adam’s apple bobbed briefly. Embarrassed by his dressed-up self, he tugged at his sleeves, striking random poses. The fitted fabric clung to his limbs with every move, feeling restrictive. It wasn’t even a fancy suit.

Black jacket, white shirt, straight slacks—almost blandly ordinary. But for Taeun, who always went for comfort, even this was quite uncomfortable. Finally, he undid the top shirt button.

“Where you going?”

Taeun turned at the sudden voice.

Cha Jinhyun stood there, coffee in hand, unnoticed until now. His sleepy face was languidly relaxed, oddly alluring. In contrast, his messy hair seemed out of place, almost cute. I wanna take a picture. Taeun suppressed the impossible urge.

Scanning Jinhyun from his loose T-shirt and gray sweats to his long legs, Taeun swallowed hard. Morning thing, huh. The slight bulge between his legs…

“Paying a fine to talk?”

“No, no.”

Jinhyun’s stiff tone snapped Taeun back. Afraid his own bulge might betray him, he quickly shifted his gaze to the mirror.

“Uh, club interview.”

“Oh.”

That was it. Cha Jinhyun sipped his steaming coffee and returned to his room. He didn’t ask which club… Taeun felt a twinge of disappointment, pouting, but soon shook it off. Expecting that much was greedy. Even this brief exchange was huge progress. Pleased by Jinhyun’s mercy, Taeun let out a sly chuckle.

“Heh heh.”

Effort doesn’t betray. That summed up the past two weeks.

The fine was just a price to start a conversation—paying it didn’t obligate Jinhyun to comply. Naturally, Taeun’s “fine strategy” started disastrously.

Hey, sleep well? No. Wanna hit the PC bang? Pass. Watch TV together— Nope.

For a while, Taeun felt like a sucker feeding 10,000 won into a vending machine that spat out rejections.

This was just securing a chance to talk—nothing different from before. Taeun grew frustrated, nearly kicking Jinhyun’s door again in a fit. But he didn’t quit. Using the fine clause eased the awkwardness and faint guilt of approaching. I paid my dues! With that mindset, Lee Taeun kept at it, far from the fine’s intended meaning.

Still, after days of this, Cha Jinhyun’s responses got slightly longer.

Wanna eat? Already did. PC bang? You suck, so no. Watch TV? That’s fun for you?

…That level.

Taeun didn’t forget to report to the group chat either. Jung Sojin and the others were floored by his brute-force method, recently treating him to cafeteria meals like charity for a pitiful soul. Truly tear-jerking friendship.

Around the time he’d blown about 140,000 won, it happened. Leaning on the couch, scooping ice cream, a 10,000-won bill was slid toward him. Startled, Taeun looked up to see Jinhyun staring down, expressionless.

“I’m talking. That’s a fine.”

The first time Cha Jinhyun initiated a conversation since moving in. Taeun nearly cried. So shocked, he dropped his metal spoon, splattering sticky white ice cream on the floor. Jinhyun, unable to stand the mess, snapped, cleaned it, and flopped onto the couch. Taeun, from the floor, slinked up beside him.

“How long you gonna keep this up?”

“What?”

“Throwing money around.”

“…Until you’re not mad?”

Taeun answered cautiously, gauging Jinhyun. Saying until you’re chill, respond nicely, and we lock eyes felt too wordy.

“There’s an easier way.”

“…”

Not yet, he replied inwardly to that question.

By then, Taeun had a rough plan for handling things with Cha Jinhyun. First, smooth things over, get back to at least friends, then imprint himself as a romantic prospect. Even if confessed and rejected, he’d ensure his feelings weren’t denied. Then he’d say it boldly: I liked you so much, that’s why I hid. Sorry for being selfish. After that… get dumped and drown in booze.

Having failed once, hope or expectations were faded emotions for Taeun. This crush was like a habit—done thoughtlessly, unconsciously, like biting nails. Knowing the skin beneath would bleed, yet biting again. Trying to fix a doomed relationship felt foolish. But… just in case.

At that thought, Taeun stopped, letting out a short scoff. Self-mockery. Swearing off hope, yet clinging to a sliver of possibility.

Old love cleared dust with a breath from the other, sparkling at a gesture. Taeun cherished and shattered it repeatedly. His clumsy heart grew that way, still struggling to break free from its foolish cycle.

“I’ll tell you later.”

Taeun answered indirectly before the silence stretched. Rejection would make things awkward. Well… he’d crash at Park Kiwon’s place then. As usual, he was a bit sloppy at planning.

“Later when?”

“When I’m ready.”

Jinhyun sighed, exasperated by the absurd reply.

“…Want a hint?”

“You having fun with this?”

Not some game of twenty questions. Jinhyun added, frowning. Yet he didn’t say don’t give it. Taeun, slightly tense, spoke.

“It wasn’t because I hated you.”

“I’m supposed to believe that?”

“It’s true…”

It was the opposite, so Taeun felt wronged. Jinhyun snorted, heading to his room. Taeun watched his broad back, smacked his lips, slid to the floor, and resumed eating ice cream. The next day, Jinhyun’s replies grew a bit longer.

Progress came daily. Some talks felt almost like real conversations, and Cha Jinhyun looked exasperated each time. Stealing glances at that irritated face was Taeun’s small joy.

But he couldn’t settle for this. What more can I do? Soothing his aching wallet while browsing job listings, it happened.

The event that sparked this massive leap forward.

🔥

Rolling on his bed, scrolling his phone, Taeun’s fingers were busy. His fine attack was impulsive but heartfelt, so he didn’t stop.

But it required ammo. Staring at his dwindling funds, he thought, Time to reload. Asking his mom wasn’t an option—he had some shame. Maybe three weekdays? With club activities and third-year majors to juggle, it’d be tough, but… As Taeun wrestled with the choice—

Bang bang bang!

A loud noise erupted at his door. Too rough and urgent for a knock. What? Taeun, limp like a dried jellyfish, bolted upright. Only one person in this house would knock like that. He sprang from the bed, rushing to the door. Opening it, Cha Jinhyun stood there, pale.

“What—”

“Hey, fine first.”

Before he could ask, a 10,000-won bill was thrust at him. Taeun took it, stunned.

“Huh?”

“And this is a deposit.”

No time to process—Jinhyun pulled out a stack of 50,000 won in bills. What? Blindsided by the cash shower, Taeun’s eyes widened, looking up at Jinhyun. His smooth, egg-like skin was still pale. Is he finally letting it go? As faint hope swelled—

“You brave?”

A cryptic question spilled from Jinhyun’s mouth.

“What?”

“Brave, right? Yeah, you’re brave. Climbed a tree in middle school.”

That was to return a fallen bird to its nest. Taeun slipped right after, falling and wearing a cast. If asked if that was brave, he might say yes. But why ask now? And Jinhyun remembering it was surprising.

“Y-Yeah, I’m pretty brave.”

With Jinhyun’s intense vibe, denying it felt risky, so he agreed. Instantly, Jinhyun grabbed his wrist. Startled, Taeun tried to pull away, but the grip was too strong. Jinhyun dragged him briskly to his room’s door.

“What, what, what’s happening!”

What was this situation? He just wanted his arm free. His heart raced like a sprinter at the starting line over such minor contact. As he twisted to escape, the big hand let go. The spot still burned, like he’d been scorched. Taeun fanned his face pointlessly.

“Let’s make a deal.”

Oblivious to his state, Jinhyun’s voice was grim. Taeun looked at him, confused, and Jinhyun answered by turning his doorknob, gesturing him in. Without thinking, Taeun stepped inside.

“Aaagh! Fuck!”

One step in, Taeun leaped like a calf on a hot lid, screaming. A thumb-sized cockroach stood proudly in the room’s center, unmoving. Taeun plastered himself to the wall. Jinhyun’s voice, not even entering, drifted through the door crack.

“Do something about it.”

Crazy bastard! Insane jerk! Why call me?

Holding his breath, Taeun cursed internally, inching his feet. First, he’d escape. Then Jinhyun spoke again.

“Fine, 10,000. Deposit, 50,000. Kill it, and I’ll pay 100,000 more. Chance to recoup all you lost.”

Jinhyun blocked the door, barring escape. His solemn tone was like a corporate buyer sealing a deal.

The lunatic gatekeeper spouted nonsense with grave seriousness. Taeun ignored it cleanly. Trying not to offend the cockroach sensei, he quietly grabbed the doorknob and pulled. At the same time, the guy outside pushed back. The tiny door gap, big enough for a foot, stayed fixed, the door trembling.

“Where you going? You took the money.”

“Fuck, I didn’t ask for it!”

“Brave, huh? This your brave attitude?”

He’d said that, but not for this. Imagining sensei flapping wings at him, sweat beaded on Taeun’s doorknob-clutching hand.

“I’m not brave!”

“No, you are. Fucking brave, right? Brave enough to squash bugs.”

“Goddamn lunatic… real asshole…”

“Yeah, what?”

“Fuuuck…”

Losing the tug-of-war, Taeun gave up escaping, pressing back to the wall. Sensei held his ground faithfully. Scanning the room, Taeun grabbed a thick book to kill it.

“Don’t use the book. It’s for my major.”

Cursing the smug voice, Taeun set the heavy book down. Liking him’s my crime.

Sidestepping to the bed, Taeun grabbed tissues reluctantly. Really the only way? No time to think—sensei might charge any second. First strike wins. Recalling fight tactics, he shuffled forward. The moment to surpass had come. Facing the final battle, Taeun exhaled sharply, glaring at Jinhyun by the door.

“You know this is real brave shit, right?”

“I know. Cool as hell. Almost there.”

Cha Jinhyun cheered in a flat, textbook tone. Too heartfelt for a cockroach chat.

“No matter how I think, 160,000’s too cheap. It’s my money, right? I’m not gaining anything.”

“What, want more? How much? I’ll consider up to 300,000.”

Jinhyun replied seriously. Definitely crazy, Taeun thought.

“Eat grilled chicken with me.”

And tossed out an even crazier answer.

“You obsessed with chicken or what?”

“Eat it or shut uuuup!”

Taeun shouted mid-sentence, hopping wildly. Sensei had spread its black wings, taking flight. Seeing the majestic flap, Jinhyun, near fainting, babbled.

“Fine, fuck, we’ll eat. Okay? Just do something about that shitty bastard.”

Jinhyun spewed words blindly, gagging at the bug defiling his room. Amid the chaos, Taeun thought, Maybe heaven’s giving me a shot.

“One meal a week!”

Go big or go home. He gambled.

“What?”

“One meal a week with me! Talking! Normally!”

If Jinhyun refused, the chicken offer would vanish too. But sensei’s insane presence gave Taeun confidence he wouldn’t.

“Fine, whatever!”

As expected, Jinhyun didn’t refuse—couldn’t. Cheering internally, Taeun steadied his breath. Step by step, he advanced toward sensei on the wall with resolute strides.

“Ugh… ugh…”

I wanna die. Extending his tissue-clad hand, Taeun shut his eyes. The squirming was horrific, so he gripped harder. Sensei’s movements slowed. Rest in peace. Taeun paid respects.

🔥

Taeun didn’t toss the cockroach but headed outside, still holding it. Jinhyun, eyeing his fist like it was a monster, followed, curious about what he’d do with the corpse.

“Ones this damn big aren’t house roaches—they’re outside ones. Gotta show ‘em who’s boss so they don’t come back.”

Taeun explained briefly, placing the tissue-wrapped roach, cocooned in toilet paper, on the ground and lighting it with a lighter.

“Come to the seventh floor, and you’re all toast… Got it?”

He glared around, muttering seriously. A cockroach cremation to ward off bugs… As absurd as paying fines to talk. Jinhyun gave a hollow laugh at the solemn executioner’s back. His faint smirk soon faded.

Seeing the lighter casually in Taeun’s pocket, Jinhyun wondered, He smokes? He didn’t three years ago. Picked it up in the army? He wanted to ask but held back, bound by his own words.

Looking at Taeun’s round head as he crouched, Jinhyun sat beside him. Taeun flinched slightly at the close proximity.

“…Feels like we’re doing fireworks.”

Another silly remark. Maybe it was the flames, but Jinhyun thought Taeun’s face looked oddly red.

“Fireworks with a burning cockroach?”

Cha Jinhyun matched the dumb comment, and Taeun giggled softly. For that moment, it felt like old times, and Jinhyun let out a short laugh too. The toilet paper burned brightly.

🔥

The cockroach fiasco was two days ago.

And yesterday, Lee Taeun actually ate dinner with Cha Jinhyun. Not as natural as before, but they had some back-and-forth, and Jinhyun didn’t demand a fine. Outside mealtime, nothing much changed, but it was something.

Plus, this morning, Cha Jinhyun asked where he was going first.

Swearing off expectations, Taeun now spun happy daydreams as if nothing had happened. Humming to the bus’s rattle, he imagined finishing the interview and heading home.

A face he longed to see flickered in the window.

🔥

The sunlight piercing the window was beyond warm—hot. Kim Sunghyun took off the blouson he’d thrown on thoughtlessly, hanging it on the chair. Just days ago, he’d been digging into his collar against the chilly wind, now gone without a trace. Still, it was unusually warm. Even shedding his jacket, the stuffy air lingered, so he opened the window. A cloudless sky let in the city’s musty air. Better than sweating, he left it open and returned to his seat, not forgetting to glare at the useless air conditioner, out of service per the staff.

In the study room’s white noise, seated left of the center table, he chuckled idly. The weather wasn’t the only fickle thing. Kim Sunghyun recalled a fascinating proposal from his friend days ago. Cha Jinhyun and his roommate’s chaotic cohabitation was, to Sunghyun, more entertaining than daily dramas—a reality show.

At first, he’d teased Jinhyun with a few Taeun this, Taeun that. Jinhyun ignored it or grimaced, spitting curses. How do they live like that? Knowing his friend’s stubbornness, Sunghyun figured their relationship wouldn’t improve until the lease ended.

But life’s unpredictable, and things got interesting. Borrowing Jinhyun’s words, Lee Taeun—“dumb, unable to clean up his messes, mannerless in relationships, reckless, and ignorant”—applied to the club. And Cha Jinhyun used that to propose a deal.

Two conditions: get Lee Taeun accepted and in the same group, and Jinhyun would join. Based on Jinhyun’s description, accepting such a person seemed absurd, but Sunghyun agreed readily. The design part? He’d just work harder. All he cared was securing Jinhyun as a teammate. Annoying, but being on the organizing team paid off.

Why the same group? Reconciled already? Nah, Jinhyun wouldn’t make this deal if they had. What’s he planning to mess with him? Sunghyun vowed to be kind to the yet-unseen Taeun, like a good kid.

It was about time. Checking his phone, Sunghyun rubbed his hands like a pesky fly. The design part leader beside him snapped, “Why’re you acting like you gotta pee?”

“Just ‘cause.”

Grinning, Sunghyun lifted the white paper before him. Lee Taeun. The name at the top curled his lips wide. No photo—what a shame. When’s he coming? As if on cue, the glass door opened cautiously. Sunghyun looked up at the approaching presence.

“Hello… I’m here for the club interview. Is this the right place?”

A man with a low, pleasant voice stepped in hesitantly. He looked a couple years younger than the age on the paper.

“Yes, take a seat up front. Nice to meet you.”

The design part leader greeted him with a smile. Sunghyun straightened from his slouch, nodding lightly. That’s him. The guy paying fines like a thug to talk to Jinhyun’s roommate. Lee Taeun scanned the room and sat across. Sunghyun and the leader, half-standing, sat back down. The leader, with a friendly face, looked at Taeun and spoke.

“Could you start with a brief introduction?”

Taeun nodded vigorously. Sitting ramrod straight, fists clenched on his knees, his tension was palpable.

And then.

“Iaetn—uh, Lee Taeun.”

His nerves burst out, mangling his name. Taeun’s face turned ashen at his first greeting.

“Pfft.”

Sunghyun reflexively laughed at the fresh intro, then felt his foot stomped. The leader, maintaining her smile, shot him a glare with rolling eyes.

Design part applicants were DDP’s rarest commodity. With fewer interviewees each year, the leader was ready to fight. Pass anyone who’s not a total nutcase. That was her bold resolve.

Ahem, ugh, kuh… Why did he keep laughing over nothing? Sunghyun covered his mouth, pretending otherwise.

Taeun, mortified by his blunder before the interview even started, bit his lip, gauging reactions. His eyes locked with Sunghyun’s. Trying to stifle laughter, Sunghyun’s grimace and the trembling piercing near his right eyebrow caught Taeun’s gaze. Taeun quickly bowed his head.

…Is that a pimple?

A big gray pimple, clinging for dear life—an odd impression that hit hard. Taeun bit his lip again, for a different reason.

He’d had similar moments. Like meeting Kim Hyoju’s eyes in class post-admission—not funny, yet laughter flooded out, forcing him to bury his head. But back then, he was one of dozens. Now, he was the sole interviewee, a world apart.

Don’t laugh, don’t laugh.

Taeun’s head drooped, nearly touching the ground.

“Sorry, uh, Lee Taeun-ssi? He’s always like this. If you’re offended, I apologize.”

The leader apologized for Sunghyun, stomping his foot again. Thinking Taeun was discouraged, she spoke as gently as possible to comfort him.

“No, kuh.”

But something seemed off.

“…?”

Taeun, shoulders shaking like Sunghyun’s, was battling to keep his twitching mouth down. Lips curled inward, head bowed, he looked pitifully desolate, but the truth was the opposite. Puzzled, the leader called, “Taeun-ssi?” Reluctantly, he spoke.

“It’s fine… Sorry, I—krk.”