Go Hoon felt like his heart had plummeted straight to the ground. But what came out of his mouth was a calm voice.
“What?”
“My face feels tingly, Hoon. Thought maybe you had something to say to me.”
He thought he’d been subtle about it, but apparently, Bae Jung-yoon had already seen right through him. Giving up the act, Hoon scratched the back of his neck.
“It’s not anything important.”
“Even if it’s not important, say it anyway.”
Maybe it was the effect of that reassuring voice. His nerves had settled a bit since before. Still, the words had come out a little awkwardly, just something to fill the silence—now he wasn’t sure how to follow it up. After a moment’s thought, he turned his gaze away and blurted out the safest-sounding question he could think of.
“You said you had plans with someone—are you meeting a friend?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
“A girlfriend?”
Are you going to meet your girlfriend? Just typical guy banter. Besides, Bae Jung-yoon was always dressed so neatly, like he had plans with someone, so Go Hoon said it without much thought.
Truth be told, he was a little curious to see how Bae Jung-yoon would respond. Whether he was gay, straight, or bi—no one really knew. So Hoon wondered if he might show even the slightest reaction.
This was, in a way, a bit of mischief. Every time he talked with Bae Jung-yoon, he always felt like he was the only one getting flustered. Not that he could be sure it was intentional on Jung-yoon’s part.
“I’m not seeing anyone right now.”
But Bae Jung-yoon responded with unwavering composure. Right then, the car slowed to a stop at a red light, and he turned to look at Hoon.
“What about you? Are you seeing someone?”
Me? Hoon’s eyes darted around. He hadn’t expected the question to be turned back on him. He hesitated for a moment, but not having a partner wasn’t exactly shameful, so he answered confidently.
“No. I’m not.”
“Yeah?”
But then Bae Jung-yoon narrowed his eyes at him. It was the kind of look that said he didn’t quite buy it. Go Hoon hugged his laptop bag tighter and added defensively,
“Why would I lie about something like that?”
“Some people keep campus couples a secret from everyone.”
“Campus couple, my ass. I don’t have time for that kind of thing.”
“Because of your part-time job?”
“Yeah. I’m too busy with work and studying.”
Bae Jung-yoon, who’d been pressing him with questions, nodded at Hoon’s firm response.
“Well, it’s admirable that you’re living so diligently.”
‘Admirable, my ass.’
What guy says cringey stuff like that to another guy? Back when he was living as Kkongddeok-i, he thought he’d gotten used to Bae Jung-yoon’s way of speaking and acting, but hearing it now, as a human again, it hit differently. He scratched at his arm, goosebumps rising, as Jung-yoon shifted the conversation.
“How long have you had that laptop?”
“About fifteen years.”
“That’s pretty old.”
‘Yeah, it’s old.’ That laptop had been a shared computer at the orphanage before he brought it with him when he left.
It had been a gesture of kindness from the director. She’d wanted to give something—anything—to help an orphan being tossed into the cold world with nothing. She had actually wanted to buy him a new PC, but Hoon had adamantly refused, insisting on taking this one instead.
“Your parents must be very frugal.”
Not knowing the truth, Bae Jung-yoon said it lightly, like a joke. But Hoon picked up the subtext loud and clear. In essence, Jung-yoon was asking why he still used something so old instead of replacing it.
“I don’t have parents.”
Go Hoon replied like it was any other part of a normal conversation. It was just one sentence, but it carried a lot of weight.
No parents. Just that alone explained every reason why he lived the way he did—scraping by, struggling.
And it wasn’t something he shared only with Bae Jung-yoon. Hoon never went out of his way to hide that he was an orphan.
First of all, it was bound to come out eventually anyway. Second, he never saw it as something to be ashamed of.
But he also understood that his way of thinking didn’t always align with others’. To some people, the label “orphan” could be seen as a flaw.
For example, there were times when he’d tell someone he’d grown up in an orphanage until he was nineteen, and their attitude—once friendly—would change in an instant. So Hoon had come to lean into it, sometimes revealing it on purpose. Anyone who’d let a single fact like that make them pull away wasn’t someone he needed around anyway.
When talking with classmates or other acquaintances, conversations would often naturally turn to parents. In those moments, he felt it was better to just be upfront about it than to dodge or make excuses. Trying to pretend like he understood their world when he didn’t—that was far more exhausting for Go Hoon.
Of course, there were times when things got a bit awkward the moment he revealed the truth, but Hoon didn’t really care. When the same situation repeats over and over, a person naturally becomes desensitized. Through years of experience, he’d learned exactly how to behave at times like this.
Even though he could feel the prickle of that silent stare, Hoon kept his gaze fixed outside the window, his eyes absentmindedly tracking the people walking down the sidewalk. He avoided looking at the flustered expression he knew was aimed at him.
“I was in an orphanage since I was a kid. Never once saw my mom or dad in my life.”
Hoon continued in a flat voice. The music playing softly in the car was a small mercy, he thought. There was nothing like ambient noise to diffuse a tense atmosphere.
“If you’re curious about anything else, feel free to ask. Stuff like this doesn’t bother me.”
Even that line was practically a reflex at this point. Hoon knew from experience that taking the lead with a composed response like this made frozen conversations go smoother, much better than sitting there in heavy silence.
“I’m not curious about anything.”
But Bae Jung-yoon’s answer came as a complete surprise.
Hoon turned his head without thinking and looked at him. His gaze caught on the long lashes, the high-bridged nose, the full lips. Jung-yoon wore the same calm face as always, lips closed, but for some reason, he seemed deep in thought.
Usually, when he revealed he was an orphan, people reacted with either embarrassment —clearly unsure how to respond—or a kind of fascinated curiosity about what being an orphan was like. But Bae Jung-yoon didn’t fall into either category.
Hoon had assumed he had a persistent, probing side to him, but this time his response was unexpectedly dry. His tone genuinely suggested he had no real interest in Hoon’s past.
“By the way, what happened to the laptop?”
With a gentle voice, he changed the subject immediately.
“I spilled coffee on it by accident.”
Thanks to that, Hoon was able to carry on the conversation without missing a beat.
“While doing what?”
“…I nodded off at my desk.”
Their conversation flowed more comfortably than expected, and before they knew it, the car had reached its destination and came to a stop along the curb.
Hoon pulled out his phone to check the time. The ride had taken far less time than he’d anticipated. He could take care of his errand leisurely and still catch the bus back, just as he’d planned.
“Thanks. That was a really smooth ride, thanks to you.”
Even if he’d ended up in the car somewhat forcefully thanks to Jo Seong-il, the fact remained that he’d been given a ride. As he unbuckled his seatbelt, Hoon expressed his thanks to Jung-yoon.
Jung-yoon gave a small nod and checked his wristwatch.
“You’ve got plenty of time. No need to rush.”
“Yeah. I’ll just take the bus back and relax.”
“How long do you think the laptop repair will take?”
“Not long, I don’t think. Should be done in about ten minutes or so.”
Hoon grabbed his laptop bag and got out of the car. Since they’d only pulled over by the curb, not into a proper parking lot, it didn’t feel right to keep chatting for too long.
“Anyway, hope you have a good time with your friend. Get there safe.”
Hoon gave a quick bow as he offered his farewell, then shut the passenger-side door. He walked straight toward the building, not wanting to make awkward eye contact with Bae Jung-yoon through the window and end up exchanging another round of goodbyes.
As he stepped through the entrance, he glanced back. He caught sight of the car pulling away from the curb. Tightening his grip on the laptop bag, Go Hoon continued inside.
The service center was on the third floor of the building.
Hoon stepped in, feeling a flicker of hope. But the outcome was disappointing. After consulting with a staff member for about thirty minutes, he was told that the model was too old and the machine too far gone to be repaired.
He’d worried about the repair cost being too high— but this was a result he hadn’t even considered. His mind had been so preoccupied with “repair cost” that he hadn’t thought at all about any other possibility. In hindsight, with a machine this old, he should’ve at least considered the chance the service center wouldn’t take it in.
Cradling the now-confirmed piece of junk— as Jo Seong-il had put it— Go Hoon left the center feeling deflated.
But an unexpected figure was standing right outside the entrance.
“…Bae Jung-yoon?”
Hoon called out to the tall figure leaning against the wall. Bae Jung-yoon looked up from his phone as their eyes met.
Hoon had no idea why the guy was still there. He was supposed to have left for a meeting.
“You took longer than I thought.”
Bae Jung-yoon glanced at his watch and spoke like it was the most natural thing in the world. Which only deepened the confusion on Go Hoon’s face.
At the other man’s casual tone, Hoon couldn’t help but wonder— ‘Did I… have some kind of plan to meet him out front?’
But no matter how hard he searched his memory, there had been no such arrangement.
“Why are you standing here?”
His voice was a bit dazed. Straightening his posture, Jung-yoon replied without a hint of emotion.
“My plans got canceled.”
