Summer season volume 2

5. Soseo (小暑), The Beginning of Summer Heat

 

Still drying his wet hair, Eun-ho was pulling a short-sleeved T-shirt over his head when he spotted the box sitting on his desk and froze. A black leather bracelet hung precariously from the half-open box, looking as though it might fall at any moment. Its smooth, glossy surface kept drawing his gaze, but Eun-ho deliberately looked away. As he paced back and forth in front of the desk, something caught against his foot. He picked up the ribbon lying limply beneath the desk, sighed, and tossed it carelessly beside the bracelet box.

 

The brown box and flattened ribbon looked strangely conspicuous amongst the clutter scattered across his desk. Eun-ho dragged a hand down his face, opened the desk drawer and shoved them both inside. At least with them out of sight, he felt slightly better. The moment he dragged his sluggish body out of the apartment building, hot, muggy air greeted him. The humid wind only worsened his mood. 

 

Every breath of damp air seemed to press against his lungs, while traces of summer drifting through the streets gathered his scattered thoughts together and dragged them down.

 

When the faint, fishy-sweet scent of chestnut blossoms reached him from somewhere in the distance, Eun-ho’s mood hit rock bottom. It had only been a few hours since he’d decided to dismiss that disturbingly vivid dream as nothing more than pent-up frustration. 

 

Thinking about it, it had actually been quite a while since he’d taken care of that sort of thing himself. While scrubbing his underwear beneath running water that morning, Eun-ho had repeatedly told himself the same thing.

 

Desire must have built up without him realising. A tiny stimulus had been enough to make it overflow, and Cha Do-hyeon had happened to be the person involved. That was all. The problem was that, contrary to everything he was telling himself, the sensation against his wrist remained horrifyingly clear. So did Do-hyeon’s eyes as he’d looked at him.

 

Only an idiot could have failed to understand what that gaze meant. Cha Do-hyeon didn’t seem to have any intention of hiding his feelings. They were so dark and deep that Eun-ho couldn’t tell how far down they went. Was it nothing more than a shallow puddle of playful affection?

 

Or was it a bottomless mire? There was no one he could ask.

 

Should I skip school?

 

Eun-ho slowed at the junction leading to the busy district and, unnecessarily, opened his phone, checking one thing after another. He scrolled through the silent messenger app, where there wasn’t a single red notification, until he spotted Do-hyeon’s name. 

 

Eun-ho swallowed and clenched his jaw. If he suddenly began avoiding Cha Do-hyeon, Do-hyeon would obviously assume yesterday was the reason.

 

Act normal. Pretend nothing had happened. Then quietly create some distance. It was the best of all the terrible solutions Eun-ho had managed to come up with.

 

He had absolutely no idea how Cha Do-hyeon would respond. After a brief hesitation, Eun-ho finally started walking towards school. 

 

Through the thin soles of his Converse trainers, he could feel every hard patch of pavement beneath his feet. Thin-stemmed weeds pushed through the gaps between paving stones, and nameless little wildflowers stretched along the bottom of the walls. 

 

The closer he got to school, the more human-shaped shadows appeared across the dark grey road.

 

Loud voices began to rise around him, and familiar school uniforms filled the street. Among the stream of students all moving in the same direction, Eun-ho spotted a head standing noticeably above the rest. His steps gradually slowed to a stop. 

 

Do-hyeon’s face, smiling casually beneath the sunlight, overlapped with the image from last night—his features pale beneath the moonlight.

 

Do-hyeon was laughing at something the friend walking beside him had said when he suddenly lifted his head and looked behind him. The instant those sharp eyes found Eun-ho and curved gently, Eun-ho felt every joint in his fingers tingle. His skin prickled. Some things couldn’t be hidden no matter how desperately you tried.

 

Thinking he could act perfectly normal in front of someone as perceptive as Cha Do-hyeon had been ridiculous from the start. Eun-ho bit his lip, belatedly regretting his decision to take the road towards school. Had calling him over because it was his birthday been the mistake? Or had it been clenching his fists and pretending to sleep when Do-hyeon kissed his forehead?

 

Maybe the mistake went all the way back to growing up practically attached to that bastard in the first place. There would be no end if he started going backwards. Pretending not to have seen him, Eun-ho turned his head and hurried towards the rear gate. He could have sworn he felt a burning gaze against the side of his face, but decided to blame the fierce morning sun.

 

Even this early, the asphalt beneath his shoes was already hot. After climbing over the locked rear gate and taking the long way around the school, Eun-ho reached the entrance to the main building—only to find Do-hyeon standing beside the shoe lockers. His face visibly twisted. Most students had already gone to their classrooms.  Only a few late arrivals remained, hurriedly changing into their indoor slippers.

 

Do-hyeon alone stood there without the slightest sense of urgency. Leaning against the glass wall and staring down at his phone, Do-hyeon slowly raised his head when Eun-ho stopped nearby. Expressionless, he slipped his phone into his back pocket. His gaze dropped first to Eun-ho’s bare wrist.

 

Then slowly rose. Without looking at him, Eun-ho pulled his slippers from his bag and dropped them. The rubber struck the granite floor with a light smack. He hastily changed shoes, picked up his trainers in one hand and tried to walk past Do-hyeon.

His other wrist was caught.

 

“Yeo Eun-ho. Why are you so late?”

 

“…Why the hell do you care, bastard?”

 

Frowning, Eun-ho yanked his arm free. Shaking off Do-hyeon’s grip wasn’t difficult, but it felt tight enough that he expected a red mark to remain. What annoyed him more was the relaxed smile still sitting on Do-hyeon’s face. Eun-ho had felt as though his skull might split open since waking up, yet this bastard looked perfectly peaceful.

 

Fuck. Who do you think I’m like this because of?

 

Do-hyeon glanced at his now-empty hand. Instead of lowering it, he stepped closer to Eun-ho. His familiar, weighty fragrance suddenly filled the distance between them. Then Do-hyeon placed a hand on top of Eun-ho’s head.

 

The corners of his mouth were still gently raised.

 

“You’re sensitive today. Didn’t sleep well last night?”

 

“…None of your business.”

 

Eun-ho irritably slapped away the hand on his head and glared at him. Do-hyeon’s expression shifted. His face stiffened slightly as he stared intently at Eun-ho. When he spoke again, his voice had dropped, betraying his irritation.

 

“Why are you in such a mood first thing in the morning?”

 

Eun-ho didn’t answer and tried to walk into the building. Do-hyeon reached for his arm again. Before the cool hand could touch him, Eun-ho jerked his arm away. He didn’t even look at Do-hyeon’s face.

 

“Don’t grab me, bastard. I need to get inside.”

 

Leaving Do-hyeon behind, Eun-ho entered the building. Coolness from the concrete walls filled the corridor. His slippers slapped against the floor, the sound echoing around him, but no second set of footsteps followed. Eun-ho could almost feel Do-hyeon watching his retreating, so he concentrated on walking naturally.

 

He hadn’t intended to get angry. But anger, it turned out, was much easier than pretending everything was fine.

 

━━━━ ✦ ━━━━

 

“Yeo Eun-ho, aren’t you going to clean?”

 

Blue cleaning solution streamed down the glass. Standing beside the corridor windows, I-hyeon crumpled the newspaper he’d brought from the staffroom and stared at Eun-ho disapprovingly. Everyone else had scattered to their assigned cleaning areas. Eun-ho alone was wasting time beside him.

 

“No one checks the annex anyway. And the administrative staff probably keep it cleaner than we could.”

 

I-hyeon frowned at Eun-ho’s indifferent answer.

 

“Then go hide somewhere instead.”

 

Muttering under his breath, I-hyeon turned back to the window. Eun-ho complained quietly but eventually picked up some newspaper and the bottle of glass cleaner. He sprayed the middle of a window covered in dried watermarks.

 

Spritz.

 

A cloudy circle bloomed across the glass. Eun-ho crumpled the newspaper and rubbed half-heartedly before hesitantly opening his mouth.

 

“…Hey, Kwon I-hyeon.”

 

“What?”

 

“You said you were bullied at your old school after people found out you were… you know.”

 

He practically mumbled the word gay. I-hyeon stopped wiping the glass and turned towards him. Eun-ho continued cleaning as though he hadn’t noticed. The newspaper squeaked against the window.

 

Unable to understand where the question was going, I-hyeon merely raised an eyebrow.

 

“Didn’t you have anyone you were close to before that? Someone you’d known for years?”

 

Eun-ho kept his eyes fixed on the stained glass as he spoke casually. I-hyeon immediately recognised the hesitation buried beneath that indifferent tone. Turning back to his own window, he had a vague idea why Eun-ho had suddenly brought this up.

 

“My parents’ jobs meant we moved around a lot. I transferred schools constantly, so I don’t really have any old friends.”

 

“…”

 

“But I did once like someone who was my friend.”

 

I-hyeon had sprayed too much cleaner. Every swipe of his hand left damp scraps of newspaper stuck to the glass. Eun-ho paused at his words, then slowly pulled out a fresh sheet and crumpled it. When he pressed it over the soaked newspaper, dark moisture immediately seeped through.

 

Still turning I-hyeon’s words over in his mind, Eun-ho wiped away the dirt. Then two familiar figures appeared beyond the newly cleaned glass. The female vice-president he’d eaten lunch with before. And Cha Do-hyeon.

 

Without realising it, Eun-ho’s gaze followed them. The boy and girl, walking side by side in neat, uniform attire, looked like something straight out of a youth film. Do-hyeon wore his shirt buttoned neatly to the throat and carried a stack of papers. Beside him walked the long-haired girl in her neatly worn skirt.

 

Behind them stretched a clear sky, lush green trees and brilliant sunlight. Anyone looking at them would have thought they formed the perfect pair. Eun-ho’s gaze lingered briefly on Do-hyeon’s forearm supporting a cardboard box before travelling to his spotless white summer shirt. From there, his eyes followed the line of Do-hyeon’s pale throat and prominent Adam’s apple until they reached his sharply defined face.

 

Do-hyeon was smiling faintly as he said something. He looked perfectly at peace.

What happened with that friend you liked?

 

Eun-ho almost asked I-hyeon. Instead, still staring at Do-hyeon glowing beneath the bright sunlight, he swallowed the question. He could probably guess the ending to the drama of an unstable teenage boy without hearing it. Perhaps sensing the gaze—or perhaps purely by coincidence—Do-hyeon abruptly lifted his head as he approached the building.

 

Even across the distance, his eyes seemed impossibly precise as they fixed upon Eun-ho’s position. Although there was no way Do-hyeon could properly see him from below, Eun-ho hurriedly ducked behind the wall beside the window. Whether it was because of the dream or because of his own confused feelings, hiding still seemed like the safest option.

 

━━━━ ✦ ━━━━

 

At three in the afternoon, the air-conditioned classroom was busy with students changing into their PE uniforms. The girls booed the boys who couldn’t be bothered to go to the changing rooms and pulled off their shirts in the classroom. Others who had already changed were gathering their shoes.

 

“Yeo Eun-ho, aren’t you changing?”

 

Already dressed for PE, I-hyeon looked at Eun-ho, who sat with his eyes closed, pressing repeatedly at his temples. Eun-ho switched on his phone to see how much of the break remained, then grimaced.

 

“Can’t be bothered. Tell them I felt ill and went to the nurse’s office.”

 

“The PE teacher looked pissed off today.”

 

“Whatever. He’ll call me after class if he wants.”

 

Eun-ho’s own PE uniform had disappeared some time ago, so he would have to borrow one. But he would rather die than go to Cha Do-hyeon for it. The problem was that he wasn’t close enough to anyone else to borrow clothes casually. And if he stopped some random classmate and asked, he could already picture the awkward expression they’d make as they reluctantly handed their uniform over. Every option irritated him.

 

Heat shimmered above the sports field beneath the blazing sunlight. One glance through the window was enough to make the grounds look unbearably hot. Eun-ho collapsed across his desk.

 

“Who the hell holds PE outside on a day like this? Everything’s fucking awful.”

 

His complaint disappeared into his folded arms. I-hyeon didn’t bother asking anything else and left. For the past several days, Eun-ho had been exhausted from avoiding Cha Do-hyeon. The word avoiding bothered him because it somehow implied he’d done something wrong, but there was no better word for the effort he’d put into not meeting Do-hyeon.

 

Usually, that bastard stayed planted in his own classroom. Why the hell had he suddenly started wandering all over the school? The campus wasn’t large, and Eun-ho seemed to run into him everywhere. Trying to avoid him without making it obvious had become a full-time job. Worse, after unexpectedly meeting Do-hyeon in the cafeteria earlier and hurriedly finishing his meal before escaping, Eun-ho had felt as though he’d had indigestion ever since.

 

Still lying face-down, he pressed against his throbbing forehead. The noisy classroom slowly quietened as students left one by one. With his eyes closed, Eun-ho felt the wall-mounted fan gently stir his hair. He had just decided to use the faint noise from the corridor as a lullaby and catch up on sleep when quiet footsteps approached his desk.

 

No dragging slippers. Just steady footsteps. They stopped in front of him.

 

“Ah, what now…”

 

Eun-ho raised his head with an irritated expression. The instant he saw Do-hyeon standing there, he frowned. He shot upright so quickly his chair scraped backwards across the floor. Do-hyeon placed both hands on Eun-ho’s shoulders and slowly pushed him back into the chair.

 

“Yeo Eun-ho. Why are you avoiding me?”

 

A faint smile touched Do-hyeon’s lips, but his voice was unnaturally cold. Eun-ho glared up at him before biting his lip and turning away. Whenever he’d spotted Do-hyeon approaching from a distance, he’d rounded a corner and hidden. When their eyes accidentally met in the cafeteria, he’d abandoned his tray and left.

 

At first, Do-hyeon had only watched him with obvious displeasure. Gradually, however, that gaze had become increasingly dangerous. Eun-ho had suspected Do-hyeon realised he was being avoided. He just hadn’t expected him to come directly into the classroom.

 

Do-hyeon had been staring unwaveringly at Eun-ho. The instant Eun-ho looked away, the corners of his mouth dropped.

 

“…Avoiding you? What the hell are you talking about? Move. I need to go to PE.”

 

When Eun-ho made as though to stand, Do-hyeon placed the PE uniform he’d been carrying on the desk.

 

“Look at what you’re wearing before you say that. You haven’t even changed.”

 

Eun-ho bit his lip the moment he saw the neatly folded white uniform. Do-hyeon stood expressionless, watching every movement of his face.

 

“It’s PE. Why didn’t you come and borrow clothes?”

 

Do-hyeon’s long, straight fingers slowly brushed over the folded uniform. Then his hand moved towards Eun-ho’s arm resting on the desk. With one finger, Do-hyeon traced slowly across Eun-ho’s bare white wrist. Eun-ho resisted the urge to hide his hand under the desk and instead clenched his fist.

 

“You aren’t wearing the bracelet either.”

 

The skin where Do-hyeon’s finger had touched felt as though it must have turned red. Eun-ho’s already tight chest began pounding. Nausea rose inside him. Do-hyeon opened his hand and slowly wrapped his fingers around Eun-ho’s wrist.

 

The instant those cool fingertips touched the inside of it, Eun-ho tore his hand away and shot to his feet. The neatly folded PE uniform tumbled from the desk.  Do-hyeon’s face briefly hardened. A thought flashed through Eun-ho’s mind that perhaps he’d gone too far, but he could only stare at the clothes lying on the floor.

 

Do-hyeon lowered his eyes and scratched once at his brow. Then he bent down and picked them up. The scent of his shampoo brushed Eun-ho’s nose. Looking at the back of Do-hyeon’s bowed head, Eun-ho spoke quietly.

 

“Why did you come?”

 

Do-hyeon didn’t answer. He shook the slightly crumpled shirt twice and placed it back on the desk. Eun-ho stared at his fingertips before slowly raising his gaze. Do-hyeon looked at him.

 

“You’re finally looking at me.”

 

“…”

 

“Did I do something wrong?”

 

His face was cold, but his voice remained calm. If it weren’t for the tension buried in his eyes, Eun-ho might have assumed Do-hyeon wasn’t feeling well today.

 

“…I told you. I haven’t been avoiding you.”

 

“Then why don’t you answer my calls? You don’t even read my messages.”

 

Because I had a dream about you that completely messed with my head, you lunatic. That’s why looking at your face feels weird.

 

Eun-ho only clenched his fist. His nails probably left marks in his palm. Avoiding Do-hyeon had been uncomfortable enough. Standing face-to-face with him was worse.

 

The years when Eun-ho had treated him as casually as family suddenly felt impossibly distant. Now even Do-hyeon’s familiar fragrance made his fingertips tingle.

 

“And surely you haven’t blocked me again.”

 

Do-hyeon gave a short laugh. Something in Eun-ho went cold. He was clearly in a foul mood, yet Do-hyeon continued behaving as though everything were amusing. Eun-ho hated the ease with which Do-hyeon did whatever he pleased while he alone seemed to be tying himself in knots.

 

He couldn’t shake the feeling that Do-hyeon was playing with him. His voice came out dry and humourless.

 

“Hey, Cha Do-hyeon.”

 

Do-hyeon didn’t answer. He looked down at him. Eun-ho deliberately made his voice cold enough to hide the tremor beneath it.

 

“You mess with someone’s head and then stand there smiling. Is this funny to you?”

 

Perhaps the sun had shifted. Light entering through the narrow gap in the curtains changed shape and stretched across the classroom floor. A long, bright line appeared against the dark surface. It seemed to split the classroom in two.

 

Do-hyeon’s expression went completely cold. His mouth flattened.

 

“Mess with you?”

 

“…”

“Me?”

 

Do-hyeon stared at Eun-ho without the slightest hint of a smile. The scrape suddenly broke the sharp silence between them as the classroom door opened. The class president stood there holding the classroom key, apparently having just realised the room hadn’t been locked.

 

“Ah… um, I need to lock the classroom…”

 

Do-hyeon slowly turned his head. When he answered, his voice was gentle. Eun-ho couldn’t see his face, but he was certain Do-hyeon was smiling pleasantly.

 

“Just leave the key on that desk. I’ll lock it in a little while.”

 

“No, it’s okay! If Eun-ho’s staying here, I’ll leave it unlocked.”

 

“Thanks. Could you close the door?”

 

The student smiled and obediently shut it. The moment the door closed, Do-hyeon’s expression changed again. He was still smiling, but something cold had settled in his eyes.

 

"Yeo Eun-ho."

 

Only the steady ticking of the classroom clock broke the silence. Against its metronomic rhythm, Eun-ho’s heartbeat sounded like a discordant note. Even swallowing felt as though it would be deafening. Cha Do-hyeon alone seemed perfectly still.

 

Frozen like ice, he stared straight through Eun-ho. He behaved as though he couldn’t even remember the things he’d done. Eun-ho thought of the hand that had gently set down the PE uniform. Then Do-hyeon’s cold expression.

 

The pleasant way he’d spoken to the class president. Then the chill now pulling down the corners of his mouth. Eun-ho couldn’t tell where sincerity ended and 

performance began.

 

“…Get lost. I don’t have anything to say to you.”

 

He shoved back his chair and tried to leave. Do-hyeon caught his wrist.

 

“Where are you going in the middle of a conversation?”

 

“Let go.”

 

Eun-ho slapped his hand away and walked towards the rear door. His own hand stung briefly from the impact.

 

"Yeo Eun-ho."

 

Do-hyeon’s voice dropped behind him. Eun-ho didn’t turn around. He left the classroom. Sunlight settled across the abandoned desk.

 

Do-hyeon stared at the PE uniform divided in half by that thin line of light. He slowly swept his fringe back, closed his eyes and turned his head. A long sigh escaped through tightly pressed lips.

 

━━━━ ✦ ━━━━

 

“Where the hell does the nurse disappear to every day?”

 

“Must be busy.”

 

I-hyeon handed Eun-ho a box of digestive medicine he’d found in a drawer. After spending the entire afternoon with his stomach feeling painfully tight, Eun-ho had finally come to the nurse’s office—only to find it unlocked and empty.

 

“Want to take one now?”

 

I-hyeon nodded towards the water dispenser in the corner. Eun-ho shook his head. He just wanted to return to the classroom and lie down.

 

“Let’s just go.”

 

Biting his lip irritably, Eun-ho opened the nurse’s office door while reading the instructions printed on the medicine box. The moment he rounded the corner, however, he stopped. Cha Do-hyeon was leaning against the wall outside with his arms folded. There was no smile on his face.

 

Do-hyeon had no reason to be standing outside the nurse’s office, so coincidence seemed unlikely. Yet the timing was strange enough that deliberately waiting for him seemed equally ridiculous. Either way, all of Eun-ho’s effort avoiding him for the past few days had become meaningless. His face hardened.

 

Eun-ho turned quickly to leave. Do-hyeon stepped in front of him. Eun-ho moved sideways. Do-hyeon blocked him again.

 

He was blatantly refusing to let him pass.

 

“You should’ve just taken it while we were in there. You don’t like cold water, remember—”

 

I-hyeon, who had been following behind, stopped speaking when he saw the two of them facing each other with icy expressions. Do-hyeon’s fierce gaze briefly moved to I-hyeon before returning to Eun-ho.

 

"Yeo Eun-ho."

 

His voice echoed through the quiet corridor.

 

“And you’re still going to tell me you aren’t avoiding me?”

 

Eun-ho ignored him and stared at the innocent staircase. When Eun-ho still refused to make eye contact, Do-hyeon let out a humourless laugh.

 

“Eun-ho.”

 

He stepped closer.

 

“If you avoid someone that obviously, do you have any idea how fucking awful it 

feels?”

 

The distance between them closed. Eun-ho resisted the urge to retreat and looked up. His eyes sharpened without him meaning them to.

 

“If something’s bothering you, you have to tell me.”

 

Do-hyeon lifted Eun-ho’s wrist and slowly rubbed his thumb over it. His eyes remained fixed on Eun-ho’s face while his fingers moved. Every patch of skin he touched seemed unbearably hot. Eun-ho bit his lip and slapped Do-hyeon’s hand away.

 

“I’ve told you repeatedly that I don’t have anything to say to you.”

 

His answer was stiff. He pushed Do-hyeon’s arm aside and tried to leave. Frowning when Eun-ho attempted to escape again, Do-hyeon caught his arm and pulled him back. Forced to stand directly in front of him, Eun-ho glared furiously and bit the inside of his lip.

 

“Yeo Eun-ho. Who the hell taught you to walk away in the middle of a conversation?”

 

Watching Do-hyeon’s face—harder than I-hyeon had seen it in days—I-hyeon began worrying about what was coming. Every time Eun-ho visibly avoided him, Do-hyeon’s expression became colder. I-hyeon had actually been surprised he’d tolerated it this long. Apparently that patience had finally run out.

 

Not wanting to become collateral damage, I-hyeon began quietly stepping away. Eun-ho immediately grabbed his arm. Do-hyeon’s face twisted.

 

“Kwon I-hyeon, go ahead.”

 

Then he looked at Eun-ho.

 

“You. Come with me. We need to talk.”

 

“Why should he go anywhere because you tell him to? Who the hell are you to order him around?”

 

Do-hyeon’s expression stiffened again. His hand closed around the wrist Eun-ho was using to hold I-hyeon.

 

“Should we talk here, then? In front of everyone?”

 

“I don’t care.”

 

Students occasionally travelling up and down the stairs glanced at the three of them. I-hyeon slowly removed Eun-ho’s hand from his arm. He felt as though he’d somehow become the third point of an incredibly messy love triangle. Pretending not to notice the tension, he quietly left.

 

His attitude practically screamed that he had no intention of getting crushed between two fighting whales.

 

“Let go, bastard.”

 

Watching I-hyeon disappear without looking back, Eun-ho irritably twisted his arm. Do-hyeon didn’t loosen his grip. Instead, he dragged Eun-ho back towards the nurse’s office, opened the closed door and pushed him inside. The faint smell of medicine Eun-ho hadn’t noticed earlier brushed his nose.

 

Behind Do-hyeon came the sharp click of the door locking. Thin privacy curtains swayed between the metal beds. Do-hyeon forced Eun-ho onto the nearest bed, then checked behind each curtain. The rings rattled along their rails.

 

Dust glittered in the sunlight. Sitting on the hard mattress, Eun-ho was in no condition to appreciate the quiet. He covered his eyes with one hand. After confirming they were alone, Do-hyeon stopped in front of him and swept his fringe backwards. His smooth hair scattered messily for a moment before settling back into place.

 

“Yeo Eun-ho. Tell me properly. When did I ever play with you?”

 

Eun-ho said nothing.

 

“When you’re with Kwon I-hyeon, you talk perfectly well. The moment you’re in front of me, you shut your mouth.”

 

A humourless smile touched Do-hyeon’s face.

 

“You told me you hated it when I acted like an arsehole, so I’ve been trying to behave. Or is this version of me actually more your type?”

 

The words were delivered with sarcasm, but something bitter beneath them lodged in Eun-ho’s mind. Still, Eun-ho kept his gaze on the sunlit dust near the window. He had no idea what to say. No idea where to begin.

 

No idea how much of the truth could be spoken in an atmosphere like this. The only thing he knew for certain was that standing here confronting Cha Do-hyeon was deeply uncomfortable. If that bastard hadn’t started doing strange things in the first place, they’d probably still be talking casually about games like before. Eun-ho chewed harder at his lip as frustration piled up inside him.

 

“Yeo Eun-ho. I told you not to avoid me. It puts me in a fucking horrible mood.”

 

Do-hyeon suddenly caught Eun-ho’s cheek and turned his face towards him. Eun-ho’s heart lurched at the unexpected contact. The first thing he saw was the cold gleam in Do-hyeon’s black eyes. Do-hyeon was glaring at him, brows drawn tight.

 

Eun-ho’s own face went cold. His heart hammered anxiously, but his thoughts became startlingly clear. He slapped Do-hyeon’s hand away.

 

“Hey, Cha Do-hyeon. You think you’re the only one miserable? Looking at your face makes me feel like shit too.”

 

“What?”

 

“Then tell me what the hell made you suddenly start acting like this when we were getting along fine.”

 

“Because how would you feel if someone you’ve trusted your entire life suddenly started crossing lines and pretending it was nothing?”

 

The words Eun-ho had kept pinned in the corner of his mind for days came out without hesitation. Do-hyeon’s face went completely still. Eun-ho glared back. 

 

Realising Eun-ho was entirely serious, Do-hyeon gave a disbelieving laugh. His gaze sharpened.

 

“You think my feelings are casual?”

 

“…”

 

“Yeo Eun-ho. Answer me. Did they look casual to you?”

 

There was a ferocity on Do-hyeon’s face Eun-ho had never seen before. The intensity was almost frightening. When Eun-ho looked away again, Do-hyeon strode closer. He seized the front of Eun-ho’s uniform shirt and hauled him upright.

 

“So if it’s all just a joke, this shouldn’t matter either.”

 

Eun-ho had barely managed to scowl before Do-hyeon leaned in. The familiar scent rushed close. Something warm and soft touched Eun-ho’s lips. For a moment, his heart seemed to drop straight through his body.

 

He couldn’t process what had happened. All he could see were Do-hyeon’s pitch-black eyes. Eun-ho instinctively shoved him away. Do-hyeon stumbled backwards into a chair with a loud crash.

 

The sudden noise shattered the silence. Eun-ho glared at him and scrubbed roughly at his mouth. Do-hyeon looked down at him with a cold smile.

 

“Hey.”

 

His next words left no room for misunderstanding.

 

“If my feelings were casual, I would’ve crossed every line with you a long time ago.”

Eun-ho froze.

 

“Do you really think there’s anywhere in this school where I haven’t had to hold myself back around you?”

 

The cruel laugh in Do-hyeon’s voice barely registered. Eun-ho continued rubbing his mouth, visibly overwhelmed. Do-hyeon’s jaw clenched hard enough for the muscle to stand out. His voice burned with anger despite sounding colder than a winter storm.

 

“Yeo Eun-ho. If I stopped holding myself back and showed you everything, could you even handle it?”

 

The peaceful nurse’s office was filled with unbearable tension. Eun-ho felt sick. He kept biting at his swollen lips until all the colour drained from them. Do-hyeon’s gaze dropped there.

 

“You really do have a talent for making me feel like absolute shit.”

 

Do-hyeon looked once between Eun-ho’s ruined lips and clenched fist. Then he turned and left. The instant his overwhelming presence disappeared from the room, an unbearable emptiness rushed in behind it. Eun-ho’s legs gave way.

 

He dropped onto the bed, bent forward and covered his eyes with both hands. Only then did he notice the ticking clock. The distant laughter of students outside. He couldn’t properly remember what Cha Do-hyeon had just said.

 

What remained was the emotion inside those words.

 

Crazy bastard.

 

Eun-ho violently raked his fingers through his hair and kicked the fallen chair. The familiar scent lingering faintly in the room reminded him that Do-hyeon had been there only moments earlier. Even now, his stomach churned. If he could have turned back time, he would have.

 

After leaving school in such fury, Cha Do-hyeon didn’t contact him. If something major had happened, Eun-ho could have apologised first. But he had absolutely no idea how people were supposed to resolve something like this. Whenever they happened to cross paths at school, Do-hyeon passed him with cold, indifferent eyes. He never spoke first.

 

Do-hyeon had been the one to kiss someone who hadn’t asked for it. Yet somehow Eun-ho felt as though he were the only one suffering. Cha Do-hyeon remained as neat and composed as ever. Unable to contact him first but equally unable to relax, Eun-ho let time crawl past.

 

Avoiding Do-hyeon because his own dream had shaken him had probably been the wrong choice. Sometimes he wondered whether, if he’d joked about it instead, everything might have become an embarrassing little incident they could laugh off. Then he remembered the violence in Do-hyeon’s eyes and immediately abandoned that idea. Whatever was happening between them had probably been inevitable.

 

Even so, Eun-ho repeatedly checked his silent phone, wondering whether Do-hyeon might apologise first. Whether he might say it had all been a joke. He even checked his blocked contacts in case he’d accidentally blocked Do-hyeon again. His name wasn’t there.

 

Eun-ho was glaring at Do-hyeon’s profile picture—the default blue silhouette—when the phone suddenly vibrated.

 

Ji-hyeon too: Eun-ho, I’m sorry you two have to go by yourselves tomorrow. I wanted to make time to go too, but there’s absolutely no way I can rearrange my schedule, so I think I’ll have to go separately.

 

You two?

 

Eun-ho frowned. Unable to understand the message, he searched for a hidden meaning between the lines before suddenly dragging down his notification bar to check the date. He hurriedly opened his calendar. Written beneath tomorrow’s date were the words:

 

Anniversary of Cha Do-hyeon’s parents’ death.

 

“Ah… fuck…”

 

Eun-ho released a long, deep sigh. He had vaguely remembered that the date fell only a few days after Do-hyeon’s birthday. He hadn’t realised it was tomorrow.

 

Yeo Eun-ho, you lunatic. There are things you forget and things you don’t.

 

He wanted to blame the chaos caused by Cha Do-hyeon for the confusion in his mind. Still staring at the complete lack of messages from Do-hyeon, Eun-ho dragged a hand irritably down his face. For a moment he felt almost betrayed that Do-hyeon apparently intended to visit his parents alone this year. Then he remembered what had happened between them.

 

Of course Do-hyeon might not have wanted to ask him. His parents weren’t buried at a columbarium somewhere near Seoul either. They rested at a tree burial site in Gangwon Province. It was far enough away that, if Do-hyeon planned to use public transport, he’d have to leave first thing tomorrow morning.

 

As Eun-ho considered the route there, a memory from Do-hyeon’s parents’ funeral suddenly surfaced. Do-hyeon had been crying alone behind the building. 

 

Eun-ho, having apparently picked up some impressive-sounding line from somewhere, had tried to comfort him. Hadn’t he said something about staying by Do-hyeon’s side for the rest of his life in place of his parents?

 

The younger, far more childish Yeo Eun-ho suddenly seemed unforgivably reckless. He wrestled with himself for a long while before irritably dragging the duvet over his head. That promise wasn’t something he could throw away because of a temporary emotional conflict. No matter how awful the situation had become, he couldn’t let Cha Do-hyeon visit his parents alone.

 

Inside the suffocating darkness beneath the duvet, Eun-ho switched on his phone. The bright screen lit the cramped space.

 

I’ll be outside your place by nine tomorrow.

 

Even after typing the message, Eun-ho hesitated over the send button. He stared at the blinking cursor and replayed everything Do-hyeon had said in the nurse’s office.  The memories remained as vivid as though they’d happened moments earlier, probably because he’d already replayed them until they were worn smooth.

 

Remembering the warmth against his lips, Eun-ho squeezed his eyes shut and pressed send. His breath dampened his palm. He couldn’t keep looking away, not from Cha Do-hyeon’s feelings.

 

And not from his own.

 

━━━━ ✦ ━━━━

 

The rainy season was supposedly approaching, yet the sky was brilliantly blue. Standing beneath a maple whose leaves were still pale green, Eun-ho repeatedly tapped the toe of his trainer against the ground. Even a handspan of shade was enough to protect him from the morning sunlight. Whenever the leaves moved, pointed shadows travelled across his shoes.

 

Eun-ho disliked standing around outdoors, so whenever he visited Do-hyeon’s home he usually went all the way upstairs. This was the first time he’d waited outside the building entrance like this. Do-hyeon, on the other hand, always waited downstairs for him unless he had some reason to come up. Had Cha Do-hyeon also hidden in little scraps of shade like this?

 

Pointless thoughts circled Eun-ho’s mind. He checked last night’s message. It had been read. There was no reply.

 

It’s nearly nine. When are you coming out?

 

Eun-ho was tapping irritably at his screen when the automatic doors opened. His head immediately lifted. Cha Do-hyeon stepped outside wearing a thin white shirt and black slacks. Eun-ho stared.

 

He was used to seeing him in oversized T-shirts and tracksuits. Seeing him properly dressed felt strangely unfamiliar. It was also the first time they’d been this close since the nurse’s office, leaving a faint tension in the air. Pretending to be calm, Eun-ho swallowed.

 

He hid his damp palms behind his back and couldn’t quite bring himself to meet Do-hyeon’s eyes. Instead, he stared at the strip of pale ankle visible between the bottom of Do-hyeon’s trousers and his loafers. Do-hyeon slowly approached.

 

“Let’s go.”

 

His voice was as calm as ever for some reason, which made Eun-ho clench his fist.

 

“…Yeah.”

 

Barely audible, he followed behind. His eyes kept drifting towards the smooth white shirt and broad back in front of him.

 

━━━━ ✦ ━━━━

 

The bus engine rattled softly beneath everything. A man in military uniform had fallen asleep almost immediately after boarding and was quietly snoring across the aisle. Cool air flowed from the air-conditioning. Outside, grey roads and low cars slid past in endless repetition.

 

Do-hyeon sat beside the wide window, silently staring outside. Green shadows from roadside trees flowed across the roofs of black cars travelling beside the bus. Eun-ho pretended to look outside while repeatedly glancing at Do-hyeon. Once he was certain Do-hyeon had turned completely towards the window, he openly studied his profile.

 

When they were younger, Do-hyeon had been handsome, with clearly defined features. Eun-ho didn’t remember him having such strong lines. Somewhere along the way, without Eun-ho noticing, both of them had grown up. He had no idea when Do-hyeon had begun looking at him that way.

 

It was impossible to inspect every moment that had flowed past like a river. Even when Eun-ho considered the major events, the most noticeable change in Do-hyeon’s behaviour seemed recent. His gaze travelled over the hard line of Do-hyeon’s jaw and the prominence of his throat. Eun-ho silently sighed.

 

There was no point digging through the past now. As the bus left the city and joined the motorway, the view outside became repetitive. Patterns on long sound barriers blurred into one continuous line. Apartment blocks in similar colours appeared in the distance before disappearing again.

 

White clouds drifted slowly across the clear blue sky, changing shape. Do-hyeon alone remained perfectly still. Sunlight fell across his face, yet he didn’t even touch the folded curtain beside the window. Eun-ho eventually began watching the same scenery.

 

Slowly, he fell asleep. It wasn’t the endlessly repeating view. Nor was it the soldier occasionally snoring nearby. Eun-ho couldn’t admit that the cause might have been Cha Do-hyeon sitting beside him like a motionless picture, refusing to look at him even once.

 

“…Yeo Eun-ho.”

 

Eun-ho opened his eyes to someone gently shaking his shoulder. He realised he’d fallen asleep leaning against Do-hyeon and immediately straightened. Trying not to make it obvious, he wiped around his mouth in case he’d drooled. There was no trace.

 

Do-hyeon showed no reaction. After getting off the bus, he flagged down a passing taxi. The car quickly left the old town filled with scattered low-rise buildings. 

 

Something hanging from the rear-view mirror—prayer beads or perhaps a rosary—swung from side to side as the taxi climbed the winding road.

 

As their altitude increased, blue mountain ranges appeared outside. More and more sky opened above them. The two-lane road looked almost unused. Apart from the occasional car travelling in the opposite direction, there was nobody around.

 

Only the radio the driver played filled the taxi. Do-hyeon still didn’t speak. Neither did Eun-ho. After another ten minutes, a large car park came into view.

 

Only a handful of cars occupied the wide space. There wasn’t another person in sight. The taxi driver handed them his business card and told them to call when they wanted to come back down. Then he disappeared along the winding road.

 

As Eun-ho and Do-hyeon crossed the car park towards the large, clean building marked Management Office, birdsong and cicadas filled the air.

 

“Wait here for a minute.”

 

Do-hyeon left Eun-ho beside a shaded bench and headed towards the office. Alone, Eun-ho slowly looked around. The unworn asphalt glowed pale grey beneath the sunlight. Yellow lines at the edges glittered like sand mixed with tiny pieces of glass.

 

Broad-leaved trees stood here and there across carefully maintained grass. Small pavilions and benches were scattered amongst them, all looking almost unused. Every tree stretching down the slope probably carried a different story. There would be someone who had lived to old age and died surrounded by family.

 

A student who had left the world too young. Cha Do-hyeon’s parents, killed suddenly in an unavoidable accident—someone who had finally died after years of illness. There were as many deaths here as there were green trees surrounding him.

 

Even with sunlight breaking between pine needles, cicadas crying and birds singing peacefully, this was still a place touched by death. Imagining Do-hyeon coming here alone made Eun-ho’s chest tighten. Whatever else happened, coming with him had been the right decision. He sat on the hard bench staring at the drifting clouds until Do-hyeon returned.

 

In one hand he carried a clear glass bottle with a long neck. Apparently he’d collected the alcohol Ji-hyeon had left with the management office. Without speaking, Do-hyeon began walking along a familiar route. A wooden walkway replaced the paved footpath.

 

Eventually, even that disappeared, leaving a trail of dirt between the rocks. Walking ahead, Do-hyeon occasionally kicked large stones out of the centre of the path. Eun-ho followed in the footprints he left in the soft earth. After passing rows of similar-looking pines, Do-hyeon stopped where two thick trees stood close together.

 

They hadn’t walked for particularly long, yet the grey road was no longer visible. Across the valley, the shape of another mountain filled their view. Bright sunlight dappled the brown needles and soft-looking earth. The strong pines rose without rot or damage.

 

Most strikingly, several branches from the two trees intertwined overhead. Do-hyeon stood quietly in front of them, staring at the nameplates bearing his mother’s and father’s names. Birdsong was louder than the insects. Eun-ho left him alone.

 

He sat on a large rock a short distance behind. Perhaps because they were in the mountains, or because of the elevation, the occasional breeze felt surprisingly cool for summer. Eun-ho watched it gently move Do-hyeon’s black hair. The tranquillity made everything that had happened recently feel distant.

 

Part of Eun-ho wanted to remain here forever, where time seemed to pass slowly. Then he looked at Do-hyeon’s quiet back and wanted nothing more than to return to the ordinary world. Do-hyeon didn’t cry. He didn’t speak to his parents.

 

He stood there staring at the trees. Somehow, that made him look lonelier. Over his broad back, Eun-ho briefly saw the younger Do-hyeon wearing funeral clothes years ago. After watching for a while, Eun-ho stood and approached.

 

Avoiding the thick roots, he crouched down and pulled out the pale weeds scattered through the soil. He picked up large stones and moved them aside. Small tangled branches were snapped and cleared away.

 

“…Should’ve brought flowers.”

 

“…”

 

“Next year, let’s bring something we can plant here.”

 

Around a nearby tree, simple summer flowers looked freshly planted. Eun-ho glanced at them as he spoke. Above him came a faint laugh, like air escaping.

 

“Yeah.”

 

The low answer lingered beside his ear. Once Eun-ho finished tidying around the roots, Do-hyeon twisted open the bottle of clear rice wine. He slowly poured the pale golden liquid around the roots. His lips remained firmly closed.

 

Drops sparkled in the sunlight before sinking into the soft brown soil, leaving dark patches behind. Do-hyeon silently handed the half-full bottle to Eun-ho. Their eyes met. Eun-ho realised it might have been the first time all day. He accepted the cool, heavy bottle and slowly poured some around the trees.

 

“Ajusshi, ajumma. It’s been a while.”

 

Condensation ran from the glass across his palm and towards his fingertips. He could feel Do-hyeon’s gaze beside him, but continued pretending not to notice.

 

“That crazy bastard came first in the entire school recently and got an award from the headteacher. Honestly, you could drop him on a deserted island, and he’d survive perfectly well.”

 

A quiet laugh came from Do-hyeon. Eun-ho didn’t have to look to know the expression. One corner of his mouth would be slightly lifted.

 

“Ji-hyeon noona is there. I’m there. My parents are there too. So don’t worry about him too much. Just rest peacefully wherever you are.”

 

He paused.

 

“We’ll come together again next year.”

 

When he’d finished, Eun-ho straightened and showed Do-hyeon the bottle, now roughly one-third full.

 

“Should we pour the rest?”

 

His voice was noticeably stiffer than when he’d been speaking to the trees. 

 

Do-hyeon gave a quiet laugh. He took the bottle by its neck and sat against the large rock where Eun-ho had been earlier. Staring blankly ahead, he lifted it to his mouth.

 

The clear alcohol wet his lips. His throat moved as he swallowed. Do-hyeon licked his lips once before offering the bottle to Eun-ho. Something about watching him drink alone irritated him.

 

Eun-ho bit his lip and drained the remaining alcohol in one go. Despite its pale, gentle colour, the sharp taste lingered across his tongue. When Eun-ho screwed up his face, Do-hyeon laughed quietly beside him. For one brief moment, everything was peaceful.

 

━━━━ ✦ ━━━━

 

By the time they called a taxi and finally descended from the mountain, the sun was already beginning to sink despite it not being particularly late. Days in the mountains felt strangely short. At the coach terminal, they tried to buy tickets home, only to be told the final service had been cancelled due to traffic problems. 

 

Both frowned.

 

Do-hyeon looked especially tense. He repeatedly asked whether there were any other buses, or anything travelling even vaguely towards Seoul. When told the first service wouldn’t depart until dawn, he rubbed both hands over his face. Eventually the two stepped back outside empty-handed.

 

People carrying large bags streamed around them. Do-hyeon stood rigidly amongst them.

 

“Let’s get a taxi.”

 

Eun-ho stared at him in disbelief. Do-hyeon’s expression was completely serious.

 

“Are you insane? This is Gangwon Province. You want to take a taxi all the way to Seoul?”

 

The fare would easily be hundreds of thousands of won. Do-hyeon bit his lip. For once, he actually looked unsettled. Eun-ho wasn’t exactly calm either.

 

There were still hours until the first bus, but the unfamiliar city already appeared to be shutting down for the night. Only the neon signs of old motels near the terminal caught his eye.

 

A motel with Cha Do-hyeon? Absolutely not. Eun-ho searched the map on his phone. Then he noticed the name of the neighbouring area.

 

“Hey, Cha Do-hyeon. Isn’t your family’s holiday house near here?”

 

“Holiday house?”

 

“You know. The one we used to go to all the time until middle school. By the sea.”

 

Recognition finally crossed Do-hyeon’s face. The quiet little house near the coast had been carefully built by his parents, who had planned to live there after retirement. Calling it a villa sounded grander than it really was, but the tiny beach in front wasn’t known to outsiders, so their families used to holiday there every school break.

 

“I haven’t been there once since my parents died. I don’t know what condition it’s in.”

 

He scratched his eyebrow.

 

“I’ll call noona.”

 

Compared with taking a taxi all the way to Seoul, it was far more realistic. It was also considerably better than entering some nameless motel with Cha Do-hyeon. 

 

After the call ended, Do-hyeon approached. His expression had improved slightly, though he still didn’t look pleased.

 

“Noona stopped there last month and cleaned everything up.”

 

He continued biting irritably at his lip before finally sighing. Apparently he’d accepted that they couldn’t stand in the street forever. Flagging down a taxi, Do-hyeon muttered,

 

“Let’s go there for now. We can eat something, stay the night and take the first bus tomorrow.”

 

“There are plenty of rooms there anyway.”

 

Do-hyeon opened the rear passenger door and dragged a hand tiredly down his face. When Eun-ho obediently climbed inside, Do-hyeon closed the door and moved to the front passenger seat. Eun-ho couldn’t see his face in the mirror. The driver looked delighted when he heard their destination.

 

When their eyes met, Eun-ho quickly turned towards the window. Old-fashioned shop signs slowly slid backwards. The driver asked what two students were doing in the area at this hour. Neither Eun-ho nor Do-hyeon answered.

 

Awkwardly accepting that he’d been ignored, the driver turned up the radio. The newsreader announced the eight o’clock news. Outside, darkness had already swallowed everything. Eun-ho wondered whether time genuinely moved faster in mountain towns.

 

The area surrounding the holiday house wasn’t popular with tourists, so there were no convenience stores or shops nearby. They found an old restaurant, ate a quick dinner, then walked towards the house, the smell of the sea surrounding them. Mountains during the day. The sea at night.

 

None of it had been planned. Yet with Do-hyeon beside him, Eun-ho didn’t feel particularly anxious. Sparse streetlights cast long shadows across the sand. They stretched so far they seemed about to touch the black seawater.

 

Do-hyeon walked away from the beach towards a small patch of woodland before stopping in front of a compact concrete building. The white house, apparently designed by a famous architect, looked pale beneath the moonlight. Do-hyeon entered the code. The door unlocked with a cheerful chime.

 

Sand from their shoes scattered across the entrance.

 

“Don’t worry about it.”

 

Do-hyeon quietly walked inside and switched on the lights. A huge glass window filled almost the entire front wall, revealing a spotless stretch of pale yellow beach without a single footprint. Stale air lingered inside the house. While Do-hyeon walked around opening windows, Eun-ho remained awkwardly in the living room.

 

The place should have felt familiar. But they’d never been here alone before. The silence made it strange. Do-hyeon found an old T-shirt in one of the rooms and handed it to Eun-ho along with the underwear they’d bought on the way.

 

“Shower downstairs. I’ll use the bathroom upstairs.”

 

“…Okay.”

 

Do-hyeon’s footsteps faded up the stairs. Then disappeared. Instead of heading to the bathroom, Eun-ho sat on the sofa. He examined the T-shirt. The brand was familiar. He was certain he’d worn this when he was in middle school.

 

“So this was here.”

 

His mutter disappeared beneath the sound of waves entering through the open windows. The stale air was gone now. Damp air heavy with the salty smell of the sea filled the house. Eun-ho stared at the untouched sand outside before turning towards the ocean.

 

At night, the water was completely black. There was no clear boundary between the starless sky and the vast dark sea. After showering, Do-hyeon led Eun-ho towards one of the bedrooms. Time moved differently here. It was already far later than Eun-ho had realised.

 

“Sleep here. I’ll take the sofa downstairs.”

 

“Hey, don’t. You sleep here.”

 

Staring at the unnecessarily enormous bed, Eun-ho instinctively caught the hem of Do-hyeon’s shirt. Do-hyeon looked down briefly at Eun-ho’s fingers. Then he slowly removed them. Their fingertips touched.

 

They were cool.

 

“You can’t sleep properly when the bed’s uncomfortable. Just stay here.”

 

Do-hyeon’s tone was firm enough to end the discussion. He turned and walked downstairs. Not once during the conversation had he met Eun-ho’s eyes. Not while travelling.

 

Not during dinner. Not since arriving here. All day, Cha Do-hyeon had refused to look directly at him. Eun-ho could understand why. That didn’t stop resentment from repeatedly rising in his chest.

 

Fuck. Why are you the one looking like that?

 

Alone in the room, Eun-ho tossed beneath the duvet for a long time. Whenever he checked his phone, the first digit of the time had changed. Sleep refused to come.  Maybe it was the unfamiliar bed.

 

Maybe the cool, damp sea breeze entering through the half-open window made him restless. Every time he heard the slightest noise downstairs, all his attention shifted towards it. Eventually Eun-ho sat upright. If he was going to talk about what had happened in the nurse’s office, this was probably his only chance.

 

They couldn’t erase that conversation. They couldn’t erase the kiss. And Eun-ho couldn’t continue treating Do-hyeon in this strange way. He had no idea how to begin.

 

His mind was completely blank. Still, Eun-ho left the room and quietly descended the stairs. Perhaps the sound of the waves had cast some spell over him. For once, his heart wasn’t pounding.

 

Maybe that single mouthful of rice wine from earlier had somehow kept him drunk until now. Pale moonlight lay across the living room. Do-hyeon wasn’t on the sofa. Eun-ho checked the kitchen and the other rooms.

 

Nothing.

 

Where did he go at this hour?

 

Frowning, Eun-ho stood in the centre of the room. Then he spotted a dark figure far out on the beach and approached the window. Before sunrise, the coast lay submerged in pale, ghostly twilight. Unlike the featureless black sea of the night before, the horizon now stretched visibly into the distance.

 

Mist floated above the water. Recognising Do-hyeon’s silhouette, Eun-ho put on his shoes and headed outside. On the firmer sand near the road, his trainers barely sank. Closer to the water, they disappeared deeper with every step.

 

Grains of sand crept inside, scratching beneath his feet. Eun-ho ignored them and walked towards Do-hyeon. He sat several feet away. Dampness rose through the sand. Eun-ho frowned but didn’t move. Do-hyeon didn’t seem surprised by his appearance. He continued staring at the dawn sea. Eun-ho also stayed silent.

 

Waves rolled in from the distance, swelling larger as they approached before breaking white against the shore. For a long time, neither spoke. Foam remained briefly across the sand before slowly sinking into it. The wet sand darkened, then began fading to a lighter shade at the edges.

 

Before it could return completely to its original colour, another wave arrived and overturned everything again. Eun-ho was quietly watching the endless repetition when Do-hyeon spoke.

 

“Taekwondo was easy. Studying was easy.”

 

His voice was calm.

 

“Yeo Eun-ho… you’re too difficult.”

 

The simple sentence landed heavily. It felt thicker than the salt-laden wind, yet as fleeting as the warmth of dawn. Eun-ho lifted his head. Do-hyeon was already looking at him.

 

It felt like the first time all day—perhaps the first time in days—that Eun-ho had looked directly into Do-hyeon’s eyes without escaping. There was none of Do-hyeon’s usual lazy amusement. None of the boiling anger. His gaze was transparent and calm.

 

Do-hyeon moved one hand closer across the sand. Then he slowly leaned towards Eun-ho. His eyes remained fixed upon Eun-ho’s until they dropped briefly to his lips. Bathed in pale dawn light, Do-hyeon’s face and steady gaze remained strangely clear even through the mist.

 

The waves. The damp morning air. The cold sand beneath Eun-ho’s hands. Everything else slowly disappeared.

 

When Eun-ho froze, unable even to swallow, Do-hyeon tilted his head. The movement was slow enough that Eun-ho had more than enough time to pull away. He didn’t. Eun-ho closed his eyes and clenched his fist around the sand.

 

Wet grains stuck to his palm. Then gentle warmth settled across his lips. For a second, he could feel individual grains of pale sand dropping from his calves. Then even that disappeared.

 

There was nothing except the warmth against his mouth. Eun-ho couldn’t tell whether the shiver travelling through him came from Do-hyeon’s eyelashes so close to his face or from sand beneath his fingernails. He couldn’t tell whether the tightness in his throat came from the lack of air around him or simply because he’d forgotten to breathe. He couldn’t even tell whether their lips touched for only a moment or for an eternity.

 

Sometimes realisation required almost no time at all. You could meet someone for the first time and immediately know you wouldn’t get along. You could walk somewhere and suddenly realise you’d taken the wrong road. Certain truths arrived like lightning.

 

Do-hyeon slowly pulled away and studied Eun-ho’s expression from close by. He neither smiled nor became angry. He looked into Eun-ho’s eyes. Then he lowered his head, stood and brushed the sand from his trousers.

 

“It’s cold. Let’s go inside.”

 

He turned towards the house. The end of his long shadow passed across Eun-ho’s feet. Left alone, Eun-ho watched him retreat. Then he closed his eyes.

 

Within the darkness filled with strange flickering patterns, one fact travelled towards him in a perfectly straight line. When Eun-ho opened his eyes again, the first thing he saw was orange light spreading near the horizon beneath a dark red edge. Even through the mist, it was clearly the rising sun. In the middle of that pale dawn beach, Eun-ho whispered desperately.

 

“Cha Do-hyeon.”

 

Fuck. I think I— I think I like you. The faint moon disappeared into the brightening sky.

 

━━━━ ✦ ━━━━

 

Eun-ho spent a long time staring blankly at the slowly brightening sky before returning to the holiday house. He quietly went upstairs. He didn’t have any luggage beyond his phone, so shortly afterwards he came back down. Only when he reached the ground floor did he realise that the black shape piled on the sofa was merely a 

crumpled blanket.

 

Until then, he’d thought it was Cha Do-hyeon curled up asleep. Without even stopping to wonder where Do-hyeon had gone, Eun-ho hurried towards the entrance. The moment he opened the door, cold, salty wind rushed inside. Perhaps the darkness since dawn had been a warning of rain.

 

Unlike yesterday’s clear sky, today was filled with clouds. Light grey stretched across most of it, interrupted by darker patches. Rain could begin at any moment. Eun-ho walked aimlessly along the deserted road until he managed to flag down a taxi.

 

From then on, he spent the journey with his forehead pressed against the window. Even the scenery passing directly before him looked grey. His phone, which he hadn’t charged overnight, was nearly dead. Do-hyeon hadn’t returned yet.

 

There were no messages. The taxi driver yawned repeatedly as he dropped Eun-ho outside the terminal before immediately speeding off towards another fare. Eun-ho went to the ticket desk, named the terminal nearest his home and accepted a seat on the earliest coach. There were only about twenty minutes until departure.

 

Unlike the gloomy outdoors, the empty platform glowed beneath fluorescent lights. Eun-ho sat on a yellow plastic chair, staring blankly outside while turning his phone over in his hands. If Do-hyeon noticed he’d disappeared, the first thing he would do was call. There was no denying this was running away.

 

When Eun-ho had decided he could no longer keep avoiding things, he’d meant Cha Do-hyeon’s feelings. Not his own. Two people’s feelings pointing in the same direction didn’t automatically guarantee a happy ending. This wasn’t anyone else.

 

It was Cha Do-hyeon. Someone Eun-ho couldn’t afford to lose because of one moment of impulse. The bus arrived. Eun-ho handed over his ticket. He sat in the window seat. The doors closed. The coach left the platform. The entire time, Eun-ho touched his silent phone.

 

He was staring blankly at the lock screen when something tapped softly beside him. A large raindrop hit the window. Then another. The black glass reflected the empty seats opposite like a mirror.

 

Streetlights left long yellow streaks behind the reflection. The rain quickly thickened. Heavy drops drummed against the roof of the coach. Mist began forming across the window.

 

Eun-ho spent the entire journey to Seoul watching raindrops travel vertically down the glass. Large drops immediately raced downwards. Smaller ones gathered silently, swelling until they finally slid away, leaving pale trails behind. Watching them disappear so quickly made anger rise inside him.

 

Anger at Cha Do-hyeon for recklessly revealing his feelings. Anger at himself because he could no longer blame everything entirely on Do-hyeon. It felt as though all the years they’d shared had dissolved like those raindrops scattering across the glass. Eun-ho couldn’t see any way to return their relationship to what it had been.

 

He dragged both hands over his face. His stubborn remaining battery lasted almost until he reached home. The sky had become even darker beneath thick grey clouds. Although morning was already well underway, the entire world looked dim.

 

His phone remained silent while he arrived home. While he showered. At the same time, in contrast, in comparison, he lay in bed, covering his eyes with one arm, trying to calm his nauseous stomach.  Even when sleep finally dragged him under.

 

Not once did it ring.

 

━━━━ ✦ ━━━━

 

BANG!

 

A flash of light accompanied the enormous sound echoing through the flat. Eun-ho woke violently from a nightmare. He’d been wandering through complete darkness, unable to find his way. Wiping away cold sweat, he looked towards the thunder outside and switched on his phone.

 

The sky was so dark he’d assumed he’d slept until evening. It was barely past noon.

 

Bang, bang, bang.

 

The hard, sharp noise wasn’t coming from the storm. It came from the front door. Still half-asleep, Eun-ho staggered towards it and opened the door as though under a spell. Do-hyeon stood beneath the yellow corridor light.

 

Completely soaked. The instant Eun-ho saw his pale face, every trace of sleep disappeared. His fingers tightened around the door. Water dripped from Do-hyeon’s hair, which clung in separated strands.

 

Drops travelled across his forehead, past his eyes and nose, before falling from the end of his chin. His eyes weren’t swollen red. His nose wasn’t flushed. Those dark eyes were cold in the same way they became whenever he was furious. And yet, strangely, Do-hyeon looked as though he’d been crying. Eun-ho’s heart dropped. Unable to meet his eyes, he stared at Do-hyeon’s mouth. Silence stretched between them.

 

Do-hyeon’s lips moved as though he was about to speak. The moment Eun-ho saw it, he interrupted. He was afraid of whatever words would come first. The sentence that had been filling his mind slipped naturally from his mouth.

 

His own voice sounded frighteningly cold.

 

“Cha Do-hyeon. Do you like me?”

 

The final words vanished beneath the roar of rain before they could echo along the corridor.

 

“No. You don’t, do you?”

 

Eun-ho clenched his fists to hide his shaking hands. Do-hyeon laughed bitterly and swept back his wet hair. Apparently Eun-ho had been wrong. He wasn’t crying.

 

Cha Do-hyeon was angrier than Eun-ho had ever seen him. Something cold began boiling inside Eun-ho as well. Do-hyeon was the one who had ruined everything. He had no right to stand there looking furious.

 

“Or is it fun, testing people and seeing how they react?”

 

Do-hyeon slowly closed his eyes, apparently fighting his temper. Then opened them again. Everything about him was soaked flat except his gaze.

 

"Yeo Eun-ho."

 

“…”

 

“If I told you what happened earlier was only a joke…”

 

He paused between phrases.

 

“Would that make you feel better?”

 

His voice trembled slightly. Eun-ho couldn’t tell whether it came from anger or cold. The only certainty was the ominous sense that once this conversation ended, nothing would ever return to the way it had been. Eun-ho swallowed and glared at him. Cold seemed to radiate from Do-hyeon’s wet clothes.

 

“Hey. Nineteen years. We’ve spent nineteen years together.”

 

“…”

 

“You and me—do you seriously think that makes sense?”

 

His voice betrayed him slightly on the words you and me. If Do-hyeon noticed, he showed nothing. Eun-ho clenched his molars and continued.

 

“What happens if we date and then break up?”

 

“…”

 

“Could you cut yourself off from my family? Could you really live the rest of your life never seeing any of us again, you bastard?”

 

His voice kept shaking. Eun-ho could only clench his fists harder. It felt as though he’d exposed the very bottom of himself. His chest was suffocating. His head burned. Yet every word leaving his mouth came out coloured by anger. If he stopped, all that trapped frustration might turn into tears. Eun-ho glared at him.

 

“Then why did you mess with someone who was perfectly fine if you weren’t prepared for what your feelings could do? If you’d never shown it, none of this would’ve happened!”

 

“Not prepared?”

 

Do-hyeon laughed the instant Eun-ho finished. He stared at the empty corridor wall. A self-mocking smile lingered across his face. One corner of his mouth rose without strength.

 

“Yeo Eun-ho. The fact I’m telling you this at all means I’d already prepared myself for the possibility you’d never speak to me again.”

 

Eun-ho bit his lip. He was supposed to be the injured one. Why did Do-hyeon look even darker? Do-hyeon continued with a bitter smile.

 

“And after we were old enough to understand this sort of thing, do you seriously think I ever looked at you as just a friend?”

 

Do-hyeon’s eyes were sharp. For once, Eun-ho didn’t look away. Everything was collapsing around them, yet Do-hyeon stood there almost defiantly. Eun-ho’s expression hardened.

 

“You selfish bastard. How can you say that? Nineteen years together meant nothing?”

 

Do-hyeon gave a hollow laugh. Unlike Eun-ho, who was exploding with anger, he turned aside and looked at the floor.

 

“Selfish?”

 

He laughed again.

 

“Why are you acting surprised? Maybe the rest of the world doesn’t know what kind of person I am, but you always did.”

 

The motion-sensor lights suddenly went out—the corridor filled with darkness. Rain echoed around them. Their uneven breathing and pounding hearts became louder.

 

Eun-ho was just about to move when the lights suddenly returned, slicing through the darkness. His pupils adjusted. Do-hyeon’s face appeared again. Something about the words forming on those lips frightened him.

 

“You already knew.”

 

Eun-ho’s face stiffened. He bit his lip. Do-hyeon smiled without warmth.

 

Why is that bastard acting like this with me?

 

Why does he talk to me like that?

 

Why does he look at me like that?

 

Is this even something one friend should do to another?

 

“You’d been questioning my feelings for a long time.”

 

Eun-ho lowered his gaze to hide the movement in his eyes. Water dripping from Do-hyeon’s trainers had formed a small puddle on the floor. He hated admitting it. But he couldn’t deny it. Every time he’d avoided Do-hyeon’s eyes, it had been because he couldn’t identify the emotion occasionally showing there.

 

“This time. Last time. Maybe every day.”

 

Do-hyeon’s voice remained cold.

 

“You pretended not to see it because that was easier for you. You kept approaching me like everything was normal.”

 

“And now you’re blaming me?”

 

Eun-ho couldn’t escape his damp, icy gaze. He briefly wished the corridor light would switch off again. It didn’t. The yellow light remained steady. Warm in colour. Cold in atmosphere. Do-hyeon looked at Eun-ho’s eyes, now reddening from anger and frustration, and laughed helplessly.

 

“Yeo Eun-ho. Am I still the only selfish one?”

 

“…”

 

“What? Now that we’ve actually kissed, you’ve decided this isn’t what you wanted?”

 

The fury from moments earlier had disappeared from his voice. His rain-soaked face looked painfully pale. The words emerging from him sounded exhausted. Eun-ho lowered his head.

 

Do-hyeon’s trousers were completely ruined. Yesterday morning they’d been spotless. Now the hems were stained with mud, and his loafers were soaked through. Eun-ho hadn’t seen Do-hyeon this dishevelled since his parents’ funeral.

 

He bit his lip hard.

 

“Yeo Eun-ho. Decide what you want properly. Don’t keep half-accepting me and giving me hope.”

 

Do-hyeon’s voice came from above. Then his feet moved. A small puddle remained where he’d been standing. Each step left behind drops of water.

 

His wet shirt clung to his back. For some reason, his retreating figure looked unbearably bleak. Eun-ho opened his mouth. He knew he should stop him. But no words came. As though sensing that hesitation, Do-hyeon suddenly stopped.

 

“And I can’t treat you like a friend anymore.”

 

His voice was low but clear.

 

“If you knew how many times I’ve imagined you in ways no friend should, you wouldn’t be asking me to stay your friend either.”

 

Eun-ho clenched his jaw. He couldn’t imagine Do-hyeon’s expression while the other boy spoke with his back turned. A brief silence passed. Then Do-hyeon laughed bitterly.

 

“Family?”

 

His voice was hollow.

 

“Don’t make me laugh.”

 

He paused.

 

“What kind of brother looks at his brother the way I look at you?”

 

The lift doors opened around the corner. White light spilt briefly across the wall. Do-hyeon disappeared without turning back. The mechanical hum faded.

 

Eun-ho remained frozen where he stood. When the motion sensor failed to detect movement, the corridor light went out. Complete darkness surrounded him. Eun-ho stood alone.

 

It felt exactly like getting lost somewhere without even being able to see his own hands.

 

━━━━ ✦ ━━━━

 

For days, Eun-ho barely slept. Whenever he managed to drift into shallow sleep, he dreamed of Cha Do-hyeon disappearing beneath a dark sea. If it wasn’t that, it was some other confusing dream in which Do-hyeon was far too close. Either way, proper sleep was impossible.

 

Dark circles formed beneath Eun-ho’s eyes. His complexion looked awful. Apparently everything that had happened had shocked him more than he’d realised. All day, every day, the only thing occupying his mind was that damned Cha Do-hyeon.

 

Eun-ho had his forehead pressed against the cold desk when Seo Jae-won and his group became especially loud.

 

“Hey, my dad brought this whisky back from a business trip and put it straight in his display cabinet. This hyung secretly stole it out.”

 

“If it says twenty-one, doesn’t that mean it’s twenty-one years old? This looks fucking expensive. Are you sure?”

 

“Who cares? He’s been pissing me off lately about not studying. Anyway, after dinner break, buy some snacks and meet us there.”

 

Eun-ho almost snapped at them to shut up. Then he reconsidered. People usually seemed to drink when they were stressed or had too much on their minds. Maybe getting a little drunk would finally quiet everything inside his head.

 

Jae-won was proudly showing off a dark golden bottle tucked against his bag. When Eun-ho approached, the excited conversation slowly stopped. The others exchanged nervous looks.

 

“Where are you drinking? I’m coming.”

 

“What? You too, Eun-ho?”

 

Jae-won’s eyes darted around.

 

“Didn’t you say you don’t drink?”

 

“I can start.”

 

“This stuff is seriously strong. Not exactly beginner alcohol…”

 

Jae-won clearly wasn’t delighted by the idea. Eun-ho frowned. He thought he knew why.

 

“What? Did Cha Do-hyeon tell you to keep an eye on me again?”

 

Jae-won waved both hands.

 

“No! It’s not that…”

 

When Eun-ho continued glaring, Jae-won messed up his hair in frustration.

 

“It’s just… Cha Do-hyeon will lose his fucking mind if he sees this.”

 

Eun-ho gave no response. Jae-won sighed. Then lowered his voice.

 

“Yeo Eun-ho. Fine. Just don’t tell him. Come quietly on your own.”

 

“Why would I tell Cha Do-hyeon?”

 

Eun-ho’s expression hardened as he thought of the Do-hyeon who had recently begun treating him as though he didn’t exist. Do-hyeon was keeping his word perfectly. Whenever they happened to pass each other at school, he walked straight by without acknowledging him. Not even like a classmate.

 

Like a stranger on the street, Eun-ho slowly crossed the nearly deserted school grounds after dinner. Except for the students staying behind for evening self-study, the campus was empty. The sky visible between the clouds glowed an ominous red, but Eun-ho wasn’t the type to trust bad omens.

 

Whether Jae-won had got the container key back from Do-hyeon or obtained another one somewhere, he’d told Eun-ho to come to the container behind the annex car park after dinner. 

 

Crossing the dark car park without a single car in sight gave Eun-ho a slight chill. At night, the alley behind the container had a completely different atmosphere from during the day. Dark fabric covered the small window, though a faint glow escaped around its edges.

 

As Eun-ho approached, he could hear voices inside exchanging curses. These bastards are going to get caught at this rate. Frowning, he reached the door and turned the handle. Locked. The handle only clicked uselessly.

 

“It’s me.”

 

He spoke quietly near the door. A short curse came from inside before the door opened. Eun-ho had thought he’d arrived on time, but apparently the drinking had already begun in earnest. 

 

Dust-covered desks had been stacked along one side, and around five or six students, including several Eun-ho didn’t recognise from other classes, sat on newspapers spread across the floor.

 

Having absolutely no desire to squat beside them, Eun-ho sat instead on an old leather sofa whose cracked seams exposed the foam beneath. The worn cushion sank deeply beneath his weight, stirring a faint cloud of dust.

 

Fuck. Even when these bastards drink, they choose a dump like this.

 

Eun-ho’s frown didn’t disappear.

 

“Hey, hey! Eun-ho’s here. Pour him one. Pass me a paper cup.”

 

Beside a few miserable packets of snacks stood an expensive-looking whisky bottle decorated with the figure of a stag. Jae-won lifted the heavy bottle and filled a paper cup halfway before handing it to Eun-ho. 

 

Dark amber liquid pooled inside the glossy cup. Eun-ho wondered whether whisky was normally drunk like this without ice, but slowly brought it to his lips anyway.

 

The sharp smell of alcohol and something strangely woody stung his nose. Frowning slightly, he swallowed a mouthful. The lukewarm whisky tasted just as unpleasant as it smelled. The unnecessarily beautiful liquid burned all the way down his throat, and a moment later warmth seemed to spread through his stomach.

 

When Eun-ho’s entire face twisted, everyone watching burst out laughing. With little more than a few snacks to accompany the alcohol, the others became louder as they continued drinking. They shouted stories about who had been seen with whom and what somebody had done somewhere, apparently without the slightest embarrassment, occasionally throwing snacks at one another. Only Eun-ho remained quiet on the sofa behind them.

 

He liked the heat travelling down his throat. So he continued sipping from the paper cup. Before long, his entire body felt warm and his mind slightly hazy. He’d never been drunk before, but it wasn’t very different from what he’d imagined. Some people said alcohol made them cheerful. Others said it dragged down their mood. The idiots shouting on the floor clearly belonged to the first group. Apparently Eun-ho belonged to the second.

 

With every sip, his mood sank further. And thoughts of Cha Do-hyeon became clearer. Eun-ho lifted his silent phone, opened the messenger app and stared at Do-hyeon’s profile. Anger rose at Do-hyeon’s one-sided attitude. Alongside it came fear that perhaps they were genuinely drifting apart. The image of Do-hyeon walking past him without even acknowledging him seemed to appear directly in front of his eyes. 

 

Then came that increasingly unfamiliar retreating. Without even attempting to organise the chaos in his head, Eun-ho stared at Cha Do-hyeon’s name. His finger suddenly slipped. The call button activated. Eun-ho hesitated, unable to process what he’d done. The screen went dark.

 

Cha Do-hyeon appeared in the centre. Only then did Eun-ho panic and try to end the call. His fingers refused to cooperate. It rang twice before he finally managed to hang up. Eun-ho froze with his lip caught between his teeth. He worried what Do-hyeon would think when he saw the missed call. At the same time, a small part of him hoped Do-hyeon would see it and contact him first. Eun-ho sat staring at the silent phone.

 

No call came. No message asking why he’d rung. He’d already pushed the paper cup away, sensing that drinking any more would be a terrible idea. Do-hyeon’s name irritated him just by existing on the screen. Even the shape of it somehow seemed irritatingly suited to Cha Do-hyeon. 

 

Eun-ho waited for a long time. Nothing. Eventually he shoved his phone aside and frowned down at the drunken mess of students on the floor. He had just decided he’d be better off going home when the container door suddenly opened with a long squeal. The noisy students instantly fell silent. 

 

Everyone stopped breathing. Through the unlocked doorway, a familiar figure in a school uniform appeared. Relief swept around the room when they realised it wasn’t a teacher. Only Eun-ho remained frozen. Cha Do-hyeon. Do-hyeon didn’t enter immediately. He stood holding the door open and gave a disbelieving laugh. His gaze swept across the inside of the container before finding Eun-ho on the sofa. He dragged a hand over his face. A bitter laugh slipped between his fingers.

 

“I ran here from studying like a complete lunatic.”

 

His voice was quiet.

 

“Making someone look like an idiot really is easy, isn’t it?”

 

Most of the others were too drunk and confused to understand what he meant. Eun-ho understood immediately. The alcohol seemed to evaporate from his system. When Eun-ho could only open and close his mouth without speaking, Do-hyeon’s expression chilled. He looked down at the students sitting nervously across the newspapers and smiled coldly.

 

“Right. Technically, I did give you the key back so you could do stupid shit like this.”

 

Then his gaze returned to Eun-ho.

 

“I just didn’t expect you to bring Yeo Eun-ho here.”

 

“Do-hyeon, this time we didn’t bring him! He came—”

 

“Fucking idiots. I gave you the key because if you’re going to do useless shit, you’re supposed to do it somewhere nobody can see.”

 

His smile sharpened.

 

“And now Yeo Eun-ho is sitting here.”

 

The already flushed faces around the room became even redder. Someone, apparently emboldened by alcohol, muttered a curse and started to stand. Another student with a clearer head quickly grabbed his arm. Then Eun-ho’s voice came from the sofa.

 

“Fuck you, Cha Do-hyeon. What makes you so great that you can talk to everyone like that?”

 

Eun-ho didn’t even look at him. He crushed the innocent paper cup in his hand. His cheeks were flushed, right down to the tips of his ears, and he was half-reclined against the worn sofa. Do-hyeon gave a cold, disbelieving laugh. Then, still holding the door open with one arm, he jerked his chin towards the others.

 

“Go. All of you.”

 

Jae-won and the other students nervously looked between the two of them. Then they hurriedly gathered the bottles, snacks and other things scattered over the newspaper and slipped outside. Within moments, the container was empty except for the crumpled newspaper littering the floor. Eun-ho stared at it. His stomach felt hot and his senses increasingly dull as the alcohol slowly settled in, though his mind was still mostly clear. 

 

Seeing Do-hyeon had sobered him somewhat. Do-hyeon stepped further inside. He nudged dirty desks and newspapers aside with his shoes before finding the cleanest section of wall and leaning against it. From there, the sofa was directly in front of him. He folded his arms and laughed quietly. It was an unmistakable mockery.

 

“Having fun?”

 

The chill in his voice made something flare inside Eun-ho. He laughed too. Perhaps because of the alcohol, the emotions knotted inside his chest escaped before passing through any filter.

 

“Fun? You’re the one enjoying this.”

 

“You’re lying in the middle of a rubbish dump with your face and neck bright red. How could I not find it entertaining?”

 

A faint shiver travelled through Eun-ho at the coldness in Do-hyeon’s voice. He tried to sit properly, but extracting himself from the collapsed sofa wasn’t easy. When Eun-ho only gave a dazed laugh, Do-hyeon slowly approached.

 

“I thought I made it clear enough that my feelings towards you aren’t harmless.”

 

There was anger beneath his calm voice. Do-hyeon stopped beside the sofa and leaned over him, invading his space. Eun-ho pushed weakly against his chest. After a moment, Do-hyeon pulled away with a bitter smile.

 

“Feels awful, doesn’t it?”

 

He straightened and brushed dust from his uniform. His low voice sounded more exhausted than furious.

 

“I thought I told you not to hang around those bastards. What exactly were you trying to prove by coming here?”

 

“That you don’t need a bastard like me and can live perfectly well without me?”

 

The contemptuous bitterness in his words made something rise painfully inside Eun-ho. He glared at him.

 

“Hey, Cha Do-hyeon. Is that the only way you know how to talk?”

 

“You clearly don’t realise how much I’m already holding back.”

 

“If you heard how I speak to your friends, you’d understand immediately. There’s a reason those delinquent bastards hate me.”

 

Do-hyeon occasionally let out a humourless laugh as he spoke. He stepped back from Eun-ho and rubbed his hand over his eyes. The gesture felt strangely unfamiliar. Finally, Do-hyeon pushed his dishevelled hair backwards and opened his eyes. Something unusually subdued in his gaze caught Eun-ho’s attention.

 

“Eun-ho.”

 

His voice lowered.

 

“I told you I can’t see you as just a friend anymore.”

 

“…”

 

“How much more do you expect me to endure?”

 

Eun-ho stared at him as though he’d just been struck. And suddenly he understood. The cold way Cha Do-hyeon looked at people who meant nothing to him had probably always been like this. Everything Eun-ho had known, the patience, the gentleness, the teasing warmth, had been something Do-hyeon showed specifically to him.

 

A strange sense of loss swept through Eun-ho. Suddenly feeling powerless, he squeezed the paper cup. It crumpled loudly. His expression twisted with it.

 

“Cha Do-hyeon. Is drawing a line really that easy for you?”

 

“Easy?”

 

Do-hyeon laughed aloud. This time there was unmistakable anger beneath it. His controlled voice gradually strengthened.

 

“Are you doing this deliberately?”

 

“You think me liking you is funny?”

 

“I’m barely holding myself together, so why do you keep pushing me?”

 

Do-hyeon ground his teeth, trying to control whatever was boiling inside him. Something unresolved seemed to leak through his sharp gaze. Eun-ho clenched his own jaw and stood. All the feelings and words he’d been storing spilt out without a filter.

 

“Are you really never going to see me again?”

 

His voice rose.

 

“Is this seriously it? We’re just finished?”

 

“Fuck, what kind of one-sided relationship is this?”

 

“Was everything between us really something you could cut through and throw away whenever you wanted?”

 

“You bastard. Don’t all those years mean anything to you?” Eun-ho shouted. 

 

Do-hyeon only laughed helplessly.

 

“What exactly are we, Eun-ho?”

 

Eun-ho’s mouth slowly closed. Do-hyeon looked down at Eun-ho’s feet and pulled one corner of his mouth into a bitter smile.

 

“For me, pretending to be nothing more than your harmless childhood friend hasn’t been harmless for a long time.”

 

Eun-ho’s toes curled. He couldn’t bring himself to look down. Tension filled the container. Do-hyeon laughed bitterly again.

 

“So what are you saying?”

 

“That I should keep pretending we’re simply childhood friends even though my feelings have never been that simple?”

 

Eun-ho’s fingers trembled. He held the crumpled cup as though it were a lifeline.

 

“There could’ve been another way instead of suddenly throwing everything at me like this.”

 

“You’re good at controlling what other people see.”

 

“You could’ve shown me slowly. You could’ve given me some time, you bastard…”

 

His voice faded towards the end. Do-hyeon laughed hollowly.

 

“I’ve been telling you all along.”

 

He slowly raised his eyes.

 

“Do you honestly think there was ever anyone I hid myself from more than you?”

 

Eun-ho didn’t look away.

 

“You think I’m speaking calmly now because my head is quiet?”

 

“You think I’m fine?”

 

“Every time I got slightly closer to you, every time I crossed even half a line, you were busy running away.”

 

“If I hadn’t done this, do you honestly think you ever would’ve looked properly at what I felt?”

 

Each sentence passed through Eun-ho’s ears and lodged painfully in his chest. He couldn’t answer. The excuses of someone who had spent his whole life running always sounded pathetic when spoken aloud.

 

"Yeo Eun-ho."

 

Do-hyeon’s voice became quiet.

 

“This time, decide where the line is.”

 

He stopped.

 

“If you tell me you don’t want me…”

 

Do-hyeon swallowed. The momentary silence seemed to tighten around Eun-ho’s throat. He didn’t want to hear the rest. Do-hyeon continued anyway.

 

“I won’t cross it again.”

 

Eun-ho closed his eyes.

 

━━━━ ✦ ━━━━

 

He dreamed. He and Cha Do-hyeon were walking through an alley at sunset, bickering as usual. Eun-ho carried a black plastic bag full of comic books in one hand. In the other was a pale blue ice lolly.

 

Do-hyeon kept bumping his shoulder against Eun-ho’s. Eun-ho retaliated by pretending to step on his shoes accidentally. Watching himself from a third-person perspective should have felt strange. But the smiles on both their faces were so peaceful that he didn’t question it.

 

Unable to move from where he stood, Eun-ho watched the backs of those two boys gradually grow further away. Then he woke. It was morning. His memories of how he’d returned home and fallen asleep the night before were unclear.

 

Everything else felt as distant as something that had happened years ago. Only Cha Do-hyeon’s retreating and sharp voice remained painfully vivid. Eun-ho stared blankly ahead before shaking his head hard. Outside, the first thing he saw was a gloomy sky.

 

Instead of opening the front door, he leaned against the full-length mirror and pulled out his phone to check the weather forecast. If there had been even one article predicting torrential rain, he would’ve used it as an excuse to skip school. He wanted to avoid going. From the route there to every corner of the school grounds, there wasn’t a single place untouched by memories of Cha Do-hyeon.

 

But the forecast showed nothing unusual. His disciplinary points were already dangerously high. Now he’d lost even that excuse. Sighing, Eun-ho put his phone into his back pocket.

 

His eyes fell on the long umbrella beside the door. He frowned. His thoughts were already heavy enough. He didn’t need an umbrella weighing him down too.

 

Eun-ho slowly opened the door. The air outside was thick with humidity. He still had no choice but to turn towards school. Maybe it was the dark morning sky.

 

Maybe it was the clammy air that made him feel as though he were walking underwater. Whatever the reason, his body seemed to sag with every step. There was nobody else on the late morning route. Hearing only his own footsteps echo through the alley felt both familiar and oddly lonely.

 

Eun-ho was walking absent-mindedly when someone passed him quickly. A familiar fragrance caught his attention. He flinched and stopped. Turning around sharply, he saw a man of similar build hurrying away.

 

Eun-ho dragged a hand down his face. He’d automatically turned because the stranger wore the same fragrance as Cha Do-hyeon. The vivid dream from the previous night kept bothering him. He already missed that peaceful scene as though it were something he would never see again.

 

Eun-ho had never imagined a life without Cha Do-hyeon. But everything Do-hyeon said last night had been painfully final. Eun-ho replayed their conversation while following the repeating pattern of paving stones beneath his feet. His thoughts looped just as endlessly.

 

At the point where the pavement ended, Eun-ho stepped into the road without looking. A bicycle suddenly appeared from the side. He had no time to move. It struck him.

Eun-ho fell. His viewpoint dropped abruptly. A wheel spun rapidly in front of him. For several seconds, he couldn’t understand what had happened.

 

Then pain began throbbing through the arm that had struck the asphalt. Pressing his hand against the rough ground, Eun-ho slowly pushed himself upright. Only then did the helmeted cyclist stand and begin lifting the bicycle while complaining in shock. 

 

Passers-by stopped.

 

Everyone looked at Eun-ho in alarm.

 

“Student, are you okay? Shouldn’t you go to the hospital?”

 

A kind stranger helped him to his feet. Eun-ho felt something travelling down his arm. He looked. From his elbow almost to his wrist, the outside of his forearm had been scraped raw.

 

Dark red blood ran across his skin. Seeing the wound made it hurt even more. Eun-ho grimaced and clenched his teeth. The cyclist, now aware of the people watching him, hurriedly approached and apologised repeatedly.

 

Several bystanders told Eun-ho to visit a nearby hospital. He shook his head. Looking uncomfortable, the cyclist handed him a business card.

 

“If anything happens, contact me.”

 

Eun-ho accepted it without much interest. The man dusted off his clothes, climbed onto his bicycle and left. People nearby became even more irritated on Eun-ho’s behalf. Eun-ho merely said he was fine and started walking towards school.

 

His entire arm stung with every step. The bleeding seemed to be slowing. At least he no longer felt blood running towards his palm. Still, the whole area burned whenever he moved.

 

Since he could walk and move normally, he assumed there was nothing wrong with the bones or muscles. He could’ve been seriously hurt wandering into the road without paying attention. Perhaps getting away with scrapes really was lucky. Grimacing at the persistent pain, Eun-ho crossed the empty school field and headed slowly towards the annex where the nurse’s office was located.

 

━━━━ ✦ ━━━━

 

Sitting in the back seat of a car, Do-hyeon stared outside. Something felt wrong. He slowly looked around. His father was driving.

 

His mother sat in the passenger seat. Sunlight poured through the windows so slowly that he could almost see it glittering. Warmth filled the car.

 

What is this?

 

This wasn’t a memory he recognised. When his parents were alive, had the three of them ever travelled somewhere alone? Yeo Eun-ho always seemed to have been there. Or had both families travelled together in a larger car?

 

Where are we going?

 

Do-hyeon opened his mouth. No sound came out. The car was horrifyingly silent. His parents looked peaceful.

 

He alone seemed to feel that something was wrong. Do-hyeon frantically searched outside. Trees lined both sides of the road. The car continued forward.

 

Then the entrance to a familiar tunnel appeared in the distance. The vehicle maintained a steady speed as it approached the darkness. A chill ran through him. Do-hyeon’s face stiffened.

 

He realised why the tunnel looked familiar. He’d seen it endlessly on news reports about his parents’ accident. Goosebumps covered his entire body. He screamed for them to stop the car.

 

No voice emerged. He desperately wanted to climb into the front and turn the wheel himself. His body wouldn’t move. It was as though invisible ropes bound him in place.

Do-hyeon struggled violently. The more desperately he fought, the tighter the unseen restraints became. The darkness of the tunnel rushed towards them. Unable to endure the approaching terror, Do-hyeon squeezed his eyes shut.

 

The world flashed white. The scene changed. When he opened his eyes again, completely drained, he saw a white hospital corridor. Doctors and nurses hurried past as though moving in slow motion.

 

Walking against their flow was his older sister's back. Do-hyeon couldn’t move this time either. Despair settled over him. He knew exactly where she was going.

 

He fought desperately to wake himself, but his body felt as though it were trapped beneath a boulder. Even though it was a dream, breathing became difficult. He felt as though he might die. Ji-hyeon stopped outside a door marked Mortuary.

 

Noona, don’t go.

 

Don’t open it.

 

Do-hyeon shouted through tears. The handle lowered without mercy. The door opened slowly. His viewpoint remained trapped several steps away.

 

He had only recently graduated from middle school. Because he was so young, Ji-hyeon had handled every procedure. Even identifying their parents’ recovered bodies had been left to her. The accident scene had been horrific.

 

And Do-hyeon had been too young. So he’d been forced to stand in the corner of the mortuary. Now that helpless scene was about to repeat itself. Back then, he’d trembled because of the cold temperature and fear.

 

This time, he shook beneath an unbearable sense of powerlessness. Do-hyeon gasped for breath. Still, he couldn’t wake up. A large silver drawer opened.

 

A body covered in a white sheet appeared. The hospital employee and Ji-hyeon blocked most of his view. All Do-hyeon could see was one pale hand hanging limply beyond the cloth. Almost blue.

 

Dark, dried blood marked the wrist. The sight was so unreal that Do-hyeon couldn’t look away. Then Ji-hyeon’s sobbing filled his head. Even knowing it was a dream couldn’t lessen the pain.

 

“Hey, isn’t that Yeo Eun-ho?”

 

The sudden voice made Do-hyeon’s eyes fly open. The blue-white mortuary lighting disappeared. Warm sunlight filled the classroom. Completely drained, Do-hyeon kept his head lowered against the desk and concentrated on breathing.

 

His heartbeat seemed to pulse inside his ears. Then he heard several girls whispering beside the window.

 

“I think it is. But… is he bleeding?”

 

“What? Did something happen on the way here?”

 

What?

 

Do-hyeon’s heart seemed to stop. He shot out of his chair. Several students looked at him strangely. Do-hyeon hurried towards the window.

 

The dream he’d just had made everything feel ominous. He searched where the girls had been looking. Only a cluster of younger students remained from Yeo Eun-ho.

 

Even at a distance, there was no chance Do-hyeon wouldn’t recognise him. His voice came out urgently.

 

“Where is he?”

 

“What?”

 

“Where did Yeo Eun-ho go?”

 

“Uh… I think he was heading towards the annex. You know, where the nurse’s office is.”

 

Do-hyeon was usually kind. The students stumbled over their words when faced with his unfamiliar, frozen expression. He didn’t even thank them. Do-hyeon ran from the classroom.

 

His lips were dry. His heart pounded painfully.

 

How badly is he hurt if he went straight to the nurse’s office?

 

If he walked there himself, it can’t be serious.

 

He repeated those thoughts again and again. They did nothing to slow his breathing. His hands and feet tingled. He felt as though he were standing on the edge of a cliff.

 

His mother’s cold hand from the dream remained before his eyes. Grinding his teeth, Do-hyeon ran towards the annex. His homeroom teacher called after him, demanding to know where he was going. Do-hyeon didn’t answer.

He just kept running. Why the fuck was the annex so far away? Why the hell was the 

 

nurse’s office on the other side of the fucking school? Anxiety tightened around his entire body.

 

He could barely breathe.

 

━━━━ ✦ ━━━━

 

“My God. What happened to you? Did somebody beat you up on the way here?”

 

The school nurse looked horrified when he saw Eun-ho’s face. He pushed him into the chair and began searching through a drawer for supplies. Eun-ho muttered irritably,

 

“I got hit by a bicycle.”

 

“A bicycle? How do you get hit by a bicycle and end up looking like that? Did you roll across the road?”

 

“My face?”

 

Without answering, the nurse jerked his chin towards the mirror on the wall and opened a bottle of disinfectant. Eun-ho turned his head. His face was a mess. A long graze beside his eye was bright red.

 

The corner of his mouth had split, and dried blood had formed there. He’d thought only his arm had been scraped. Seeing his face, he frowned. Only then did pain begin throbbing around his eye.

 

“You were hit by a bicycle? Where? Did you get the cyclist’s contact details?”

 

“Yeah… I got them.”

 

“Nothing else hurts? No aching in your bones when you walk?”

 

“No.”

 

“Keep that business card. A bicycle counts as a vehicle. Sometimes injuries don’t start hurting until several days later.”

 

“Yeah, yeah…”

 

The nurse frowned at Eun-ho’s half-hearted answers. The moment disinfectant-soaked gauze touched his injury, Eun-ho’s entire face twisted. He made a small pained sound. 

 

Then the nurse’s-office door burst open.

 

The nurse jumped in surprise. His hand pressed the gauze harder against Eun-ho’s wound.

 

“Ah!”

 

Eun-ho grimaced and glared accusingly at him. Only then did he look towards the doorway. Someone completely unexpected stood there. Do-hyeon.

 

Eun-ho’s eyes widened. Do-hyeon’s face was deathly pale. Only the skin around his eyes was red. He was breathing heavily while looking over every part of Eun-ho’s body. His shoulders rose and fell rapidly.

 

“Cha Do-hyeon? What, did you hear Yeo Eun-ho was hurt and ran all the way here?”

 

Barely glancing at him, the nurse turned back to organise the medical supplies. Eun-ho continued staring at Do-hyeon. There was something close to raw terror in those reddened eyes. Do-hyeon slowly opened his mouth.

 

No words came. His lips moved faintly. Then closed again. And at that moment, a single tear slipped from Do-hyeon’s eye.

 

Eun-ho felt as though somebody had struck him in the back of the head. The nurse muttered something beginning with, “Honestly, kids these days…” while rummaging through a cabinet. Eun-ho couldn’t hear him. A strange silence surrounded the few steps separating him from Cha Do-hyeon.

 

Do-hyeon didn’t enter the room. He stood at the doorway. His gaze moved over the scrape beside Eun-ho’s eye—the red antiseptic covering his arm.

 

The dirt on his school trousers. There was something desperate in the way he looked. It felt as though Cha Do-hyeon’s overflowing emotions had formed an enormous pool at his feet. The weight of it almost suffocated Eun-ho.

 

The tear disappeared without leaving a visible trace. Do-hyeon’s expression gradually settled. He took one step towards the room. Then stopped.

 

A line stretched across the floor beneath the doorway. The toe of Do-hyeon’s slipper reached its edge. He froze there. His eyes remained fixed on Eun-ho’s injured arm.

 

He couldn’t cross it. Instead, Do-hyeon moved half a step backwards. As he slowly forced his uneven breathing under control, both his hands trembled. Eun-ho couldn’t think.

 

He could only watch. The sight made his chest ache. Do-hyeon clenched his jaw. Slowly, he stepped backwards.

 

Then he turned and walked away. Without realising it, Eun-ho followed his retreating figure with his eyes. The back growing gradually more distant looked unbearably lonely. So miserable that Eun-ho didn’t even notice his own wound pulling painfully when he clenched his fist.

 

He had never seen Cha Do-hyeon give up on anything. He’d never wanted to. That bastard was the sort of person who would steal what he wanted if stealing were the only way to have it. And yet he couldn’t cross one line at the entrance to the nurse’s office.

 

Eun-ho’s heart slowly began to pound. He never wanted to watch Cha Do-hyeon turn his back and walk away from him again. He wanted to catch even the smooth hem of his shirt and stop him. If there were any way to bring Cha Do-hyeon back in front of him—

If there were any way to stop those retreating footsteps— Eun-ho felt as though he could do anything.

 

━━━━ ✦ ━━━━

 

It wasn’t yet time for sunset, but outside the windows looked like night. Clouds even darker than those from the morning completely covered the sky. With rain looking ready to fall at any moment, some students hurriedly searched through their bags while others waved several umbrellas in front of their friends. The classroom, waiting for final announcements, seemed to hold on to sound longer than usual.

 

Voices lingered strangely in the air. Eun-ho sat in the corner staring outside. A fierce gust of wind rattled the windows. Beyond the gloomy air, dozens of windows glowed inside the main building used by the first-year students. Behind each one, people moved quietly and sporadically.

 

The world outside felt completely different from the classroom. The contrast looked almost unreal. The moment their homeroom teacher finished, students hurried through the door. Eun-ho remained seated.

 

He called Do-hyeon again. He had lost count of how many times he’d tried. Once again, only the unanswered ringing tone came through his phone. Do-hyeon had apparently left school before lunch.

 

Where the hell was he in weather like this? He hadn’t answered a single call all day. Eventually, Eun-ho ended the call and shoved the phone into his pocket. He slowly stood and searched his bag.

 

No umbrella. Only then did he remember the long umbrella he’d left beside the front door that morning.

 

My mistake for trusting the weather forecast.

 

Eun-ho searched the lockers and cleaning cupboard anyway. There wasn’t even a torn umbrella left behind. He should’ve listened earlier when everyone had been talking about the weather. Today, everything seemed worthy of regret.

 

With no other choice, Eun-ho left the classroom empty-handed. If it started raining before he reached home, he’d buy an umbrella from the nearest convenience store. His footsteps echoed through the dark, silent corridor. It felt lonely.

 

Almost frightening. Had Cha Do-hyeon felt something similar when he’d walked away from the nurse’s office alone? Eun-ho ground his teeth. There were strangely few people outside.

 

Violent wind swept through the alleyways with an eerie tearing sound. Leaves scraped together, making the streets feel even more unsettling. Muttering curses, Eun-ho hurried. He would’ve taken a taxi if he’d seen one.

 

Oddly, there weren’t many cars either. Something cold struck his face.

 

“Fuck.”

 

A large raindrop. Round dark spots rapidly multiplied across the grey asphalt. The drops were too large for an ordinary shower. A faint metallic smell hung in the air.

 

Home was still some distance away. Eun-ho quickly looked around for a convenience store. Nothing. He’d already entered a residential neighbourhood lined with grey apartment buildings.

 

There wasn’t even one of those tiny independent cafés that seemed to be everywhere. During the few seconds he’d spent searching, the rain became noticeably heavier. Drops struck the roofs of parked cars. Eun-ho threw his nearly empty bag over his head and began running.

 

Driven sideways by the wind, rain soaked his forehead and fringe. The downpour arrived with the sudden violence of a tropical squall. His hair and clothes were already drenched, but he couldn’t imagine forcing his way through the worsening wind and rain. 

 

Stranded in the middle of the street, Eun-ho rushed into the entrance of the nearest residential building.

 

Of course he’d managed to choose one with no basement. Only a narrow stairwell led upwards. Two people standing side by side would have almost filled the entire space. Water continued dripping from Eun-ho’s hair.

 

He removed his soaked uniform shirt and used it to dry his head roughly. Even the black cotton T-shirt underneath was completely wet. A chill ran through his entire body. Eun-ho irritably dropped his bag and sat on the cold granite stairs.

 

The chill seeped through his clothes. The light seemed broken. No matter how much he moved, nothing switched on. Thinking perhaps it wasn’t motion-sensitive, Eun-ho searched for a switch.

 

There wasn’t one. Eventually he gave up and remained sitting in the darkness. Rainwater rushed endlessly towards the drain outside the glass door. Watching it brought back the black sea submerged in darkness.

 

And Cha Do-hyeon’s warmth beside him. The cold filling the stairwell slowly seemed to creep inside his body. His soaked clothes made everything worse. Rain thundered beyond the glass.

 

Curled up with his knees drawn towards his chest, Eun-ho opened his phone.

 

“Fuck…”

 

Naturally, the battery was nearly dead. He rested his head against the cold tiled wall and slowly looked through his recent calls. Only one name filled the screen. Cha Do-hyeon.

 

His finger automatically moved towards the call button. Then stopped.

 

Will he answer?

 

Probably not.

 

If he’d known this would happen, he would’ve grabbed Do-hyeon the moment he’d walked away from the nurse’s office. No. If Eun-ho were completely honest, even if he returned to that exact moment, he couldn’t guarantee he’d chase him. He was still afraid.

 

Afraid Do-hyeon wouldn’t answer. And afraid he would. Eun-ho sighed and touched the screen almost unthinkingly. Every entry mindlessly went to Cha Do-hyeon anyway.

 

Wherever he pressed, the call would reach him. The ringing tone sounded quietly from the phone. Flat and repetitive, it drifted through the cold stairwell. Do-hyeon apparently had no intention of answering.

 

The ringing continued without interruption. Eun-ho bit his lip irritably and slowly lowered the hand holding his phone. He was about to disconnect when there was a click. The ringing vanished.

 

Eun-ho slowly raised the phone back to his ear. Only quiet breathing came from the other end. Everything around him was cold. His heart raced.

 

The hand holding the phone began trembling. Eun-ho curled tighter and buried his face between his knees. His rain-soaked bag smelled damp.

 

“…Cha Do-hyeon.”

 

His indistinct voice echoed through the stairwell. Eun-ho closed his eyes. His lips trembled.

 

“Come here.”

 

Silence.

 

“I’m fucking freezing. Come here.”

 

Do-hyeon’s face outside the nurse’s office suddenly came to mind. That single tear. The devastation Eun-ho had felt while watching him walk away. He never wanted to experience it again.

 

He didn’t want to see Cha Do-hyeon’s back disappearing from him. He didn’t want those cold, empty eyes turned towards him. Rainwater stung the injury on his arm. Eun-ho bit his lip.

 

[Yeo Eun-ho.] Do-hyeon’s low voice came through the sound of heavy rain on the other end. Eun-ho tightened his grip around his bag. Water soaked into the fabric squeezed over his palm and ran towards his wrist.

 

Three syllables. His heart jumped. Something hot twisted deep inside him. [The moment I get there, I’m going to kiss you.]

 

Eun-ho froze. [If you run away again, I won’t chase you next time.] A short pause. [Do you still want me to come?]

 

Looking back, there had been plenty of chances for Eun-ho to realise how he felt. The irritation whenever he saw someone confess to Cha Do-hyeon. The tingling in his fingertips whenever they touched. His restless heartbeat whenever Do-hyeon approached him in a way that felt unfamiliar.

 

They had all been signs. Feelings he’d refused to acknowledge. A truth he’d deliberately ignored.

 

“…Bastard.”

 

Silence.

 

“You really are a bastard.”

 

Pretending not to know an answer he already understood had finally become impossible. Eun-ho curled tighter, trying to contain the emotion rising inside him. When he muttered weakly, a low laugh came through the phone. Do-hyeon answered easily.

[Eun-ho.] His voice held a smile. [As long as you know, that’s enough.] The call ended.

 

Eun-ho slowly lowered his arm. The rain beyond the glass showed no sign of weakening. Sitting alone in the darkness, Eun-ho watched the falling water and slowly replayed summers from years past. The summer when they were eleven, lying exhausted on a hot beach after swimming.

 

Fifteen, bickering while sharing a bicycle on the way to a PC café. Seventeen, sitting side by side until dawn, watching incense smoke rise. And this summer. Nineteen.

 

Eun-ho lifted his head from his knees and rested it against the wall. Rain still poured outside. The sky showed no sign of brightening. Yet he no longer felt anxious.

Wherever Eun-ho was, Cha Do-hyeon would find him. Whenever he moved his feet, his 

 

soaked trainers squeaked. Water dripping from his clothes left round marks across the shiny stairwell floor. Drops fell from his wet hair and travelled beside his nose.

 

He couldn’t dry out his soaked heart by himself. He wanted to see Cha Do-hyeon. A dark shadow appeared beyond the glass door. Still clutching his wet bag and shivering, Eun-ho slowly lifted his head.

 

The muffled sound of rain suddenly became deafening as the glass door opened. Half-soaked, Do-hyeon stepped into the stairwell while slowly folding his umbrella. His gaze was completely steady. Eun-ho hesitantly straightened.

 

The door closed. The rain became quieter again. Do-hyeon slowly approached. Instead of his familiar fragrance, he smelled of cold rain.

 

"Yeo Eun-ho."

 

Because Eun-ho stood one step higher, Do-hyeon had to tilt his head upwards. 

 

Everywhere that unwavering gaze touched seemed to burn. Eun-ho’s heart hammered whenever their eyes met. This time, he didn’t look away.

 

“I think I know how you feel.”

 

“…”

 

“Do you still need more time to think?”

 

The years they created from now on would be understood differently from the years behind them. It was unfamiliar. Difficult. Frightening.

 

But Eun-ho thought he’d be all right as long as it was Cha Do-hyeon beside him. Whether he called him a friend or something more didn’t matter anymore. He only needed him to remain Cha Do-hyeon.

 

“No.”

 

Eun-ho swallowed.

 

“I don’t.”

 

He looked directly at him.

 

“Cha Do-hyeon.”

 

“I like you.”

 

A breath caught in his throat.

 

“I don’t even know what to do with that anymore.”

 

The moment the confession left him, Eun-ho leaned down and kissed him. The corners of Do-hyeon’s mouth slowly lifted. Outside, the rain that had soaked the entire world began to weaken.

━━━━ ✦ ━━━━

 

A single umbrella wasn’t enough to protect both of them from the downpour. They were already soaked, so buying another one would’ve achieved very little. They couldn’t exactly climb into a taxi dripping wet either. In the end, they decided to walk to Do-hyeon’s nearby home and dry themselves there.

 

Neither said a word on the way. Walking beneath the same umbrella, their steps falling naturally into rhythm, made Eun-ho’s arms strangely tingle. He clenched his fists. An awkward silence settled between them while they waited for the lift.

 

Or perhaps Eun-ho was the only one who found it awkward. He kept stealing glances at Do-hyeon’s profile. Do-hyeon didn’t speak. He only watched the descending numbers above the lift doors.

 

Ding.

 

The lift reached the ground floor and opened brightly. Do-hyeon stepped inside first and pressed the button for his floor. Eun-ho stood a short distance away. Even through their wet clothes, he could feel Do-hyeon’s warmth.

 

The doors slid closed. Do-hyeon immediately turned towards him. Before Eun-ho had time to react, Do-hyeon caught both his arms and gently backed him against the wall. The hands against Eun-ho’s wet skin were surprisingly cool.

 

Startled, Eun-ho looked up. Their gazes met. Then Do-hyeon leaned down and kissed him. Eun-ho’s eyes widened.

 

Unlike their earlier hesitant kisses, this one carried all the emotion Do-hyeon had apparently been suppressing for far too long. Overwhelmed by how suddenly everything had changed, Eun-ho instinctively pulled back. Cold metal met his shoulders.

 

“Cha—Cha Do…”

 

He pushed lightly against Do-hyeon’s chest. The lift stopped with another ding. Eun-ho immediately pushed harder. Do-hyeon stepped back.

 

Flustered, Eun-ho stared at him. Do-hyeon’s gaze lingered on his mouth.

 

“Hey, Cha Do-hyeon…”

 

Something about that expression made Eun-ho’s pulse jump. At the sound of his name, Do-hyeon took his wrist and led him towards the flat. He entered the door code too quickly. An error tone sounded.

 

Then again. Do-hyeon glared at the glowing blue numbers. Finally, the lock was released. Still holding Eun-ho’s wrist, Do-hyeon opened the door and pulled him inside. Then he turned back towards him. Their kiss at the entrance was hurried and clumsy, both of them still cold and dripping rainwater onto the floor. Eun-ho dropped his bag and caught Do-hyeon’s arms.

 

“Wait…”

 

His breathing was uneven. Do-hyeon paused.

 

“Hey—breathing.”

 

Eun-ho frowned.

 

“I can’t breathe.”

 

Only then did Do-hyeon’s expression return to something closer to normal. He looked at Eun-ho for a moment. The corner of his mouth lifted.

 

“Okay.”

 

His voice was faintly amused.

 

“I’ll slow down.”

 

The entrance sensor light switched off and back on repeatedly. Whenever they separated, the distance didn’t last long. This time, Eun-ho hesitantly responded rather than simply freezing. Water from their clothes and hair pooled across the floor, amongst dirty marks left by their shoes.

 

Their first real kiss was far messier than Eun-ho had imagined.

 

━━━━ ✦ ━━━━

 

Sitting on the edge of Do-hyeon’s bed, Eun-ho rubbed his hair dry and fidgeted with the hem of the borrowed T-shirt. He’d worn clothes from this house countless times without thinking about it. Now even the faint scent of fabric conditioner made him strangely self-conscious. Maybe it was because the whole room smelled like Cha Do-hyeon.

 

Still slightly chilled despite the hot shower, Eun-ho wandered towards the living room. He was heading for the kitchen to find something warm to drink when the bathroom door opened. Do-hyeon stepped out. He was wearing tracksuit bottoms and drying his hair with a towel.

 

Eun-ho was visibly startled and immediately looked away.

 

“Jesus, you scared me. Put a shirt on, you lunatic.”

 

Seeing Eun-ho suddenly unable to look directly at him, Do-hyeon smiled. He approached with an unmistakably teasing expression.

 

“Why are you acting like this now, Eun-ho?”

 

He tilted his head.

 

“Suddenly self-conscious?”

 

Eun-ho bit his lip. Things he’d never paid much attention to before now felt completely different. Do-hyeon’s familiar fragrance. The fabric conditioner he always used.

 

The shape of his shoulders and arms that Eun-ho had seen countless times. Somehow,  one change in their relationship had altered the meaning of everything familiar. Eun-ho glared at him and retreated towards the living room. Apparently he didn’t need a hot drink after all.

 

His face already felt warm enough. Do-hyeon followed and sat very close beside him. Eun-ho gave him a displeased look and shifted one seat away. Do-hyeon laughed incredulously but didn’t follow.

 

Rain could still be heard somewhere beyond the windows. Neither spoke. They sat side by side, staring at the blank television screen. The silence inside the flat felt awkward.

 

Eun-ho desperately wanted to say something. He had no idea what anyone was supposed to say to the childhood friend they’d just confessed to. His hands repeatedly opened and closed. Then a quiet voice reached him from beside him.

 

“I like you.”

 

The simple words took a moment to register. Then they sank deep into Eun-ho’s chest. Only three syllables in Korean. Yet they sent an enormous ripple through everything inside him.

 

Eun-ho slowly turned his head. Do-hyeon’s unwavering gaze was already fixed on him.

 

“I’m not being your friend anymore.”

 

His expression was serious.

 

“We’re dating.”

 

Eun-ho’s heart began pounding. Do-hyeon wasn’t smiling.

 

“Nothing else has to change.”

 

“Just live the way you always have.”

 

“Eat when you’re hungry. Sleep. Go to school.”

 

“If something funny happens, tell me. If something annoys you, complain. If you’re angry, grab me and rant about it.”

 

Do-hyeon’s gaze deepened.

 

“But whether it’s summer or winter, stay beside me.”

 

“Don’t run away again.”

 

The immeasurable depth of his gaze and everything behind those words pressed heavily against Eun-ho’s chest. He stared at Do-hyeon as though he’d forgotten how to speak.

 

“Oh. One thing.”

 

Do-hyeon’s expression shifted slightly.

 

“Don’t even think about seeing somebody else unless you want to watch me completely lose my mind.”

 

Eun-ho’s lips parted. He had no idea what answer Do-hyeon expected. Then one corner of Do-hyeon’s mouth lifted in an expression unmistakably his.

 

“That wasn’t a question.”

 

“You don’t get a choice.”

 

“…”

 

“We’ve been friends for nineteen years.”

 

Do-hyeon continued as though announcing something perfectly reasonable.

 

“So date me for exactly nineteen years.”

 

Eun-ho stared.

 

“If after that you still think this was a mistake, we can discuss it then.”

 

“Not now.”

 

Eun-ho’s frozen expression finally broke. A disbelieving laugh escaped him. People really didn’t change. The Cha Do-hyeon he’d always known hadn’t gone anywhere.

 

Something that had been squeezing tightly around Eun-ho’s chest finally loosened. His heart tingled. He avoided Do-hyeon’s eyes and muttered irritably,

 

“Crazy bastard. By then we’ll both be middle-aged men.”

 

Do-hyeon answered without hesitation.

 

“You’ll still look pretty to me, so it doesn’t matter.”

 

Only their feelings had changed. Every reason it couldn’t be Cha Do-hyeon had somehow become a reason it could only ever be him.