The headboard of the bed looked like a display shelf, cluttered with everyday items—perfume, hand cream, phone chargers—all neatly lined up as if for show. Everything that might be used nearby had been tossed into the nightstand, leaving Jae-ha’s side of the bed completely bare. It was a stark contrast. He’d often wondered, Does he actually use all that stuff? Turns out, he did. So Jae-ha couldn’t even complain about it.
Then there was the insistence on sleeping in the bed because “he couldn’t sleep unless it was comfortable.” But wasn’t the bed already cramped? How was that comfortable? And on top of everything, the guy slept like the dead. It was rare for Hae-hyun to ever wake up before Jae-ha. At first, Jae-ha thought it was just due to their different class schedules, but even on weekends, it was the same. It wasn’t a coincidence—Hae-hyun just really loved sleep.
When it came to chores like cleaning or doing laundry… he’d do them passably if asked, but never took the initiative. It was like he’d grown up never realizing those things even needed to be done. One thing was clear: he’d definitely never lived alone before.
There were also other little moments—quirky, innocent reactions that made him seem weirdly naive. Despite being much bigger than Jae-ha, Hae-hyun often felt like a kid.
Thinking about it, it made sense. With that handsome face and athletic build, he’d probably grown up surrounded by kindness and affection. The way he didn’t hesitate to touch others or how naturally he’d acted with Jae-ha the first time they met only reinforced the theory.
Still, even if he did things his own way, he wasn’t unbearable. Not to the point where Jae-ha couldn’t tolerate it. So they kept living together. And since the whole cohabitation arrangement had been for his safety, that was a relief for Jae-ha in itself.
“Hey, move.”
Jae-ha nudged him in the stomach with his elbow. Hae-hyun, who’d been muttering incoherently in his sleep, stirred and shifted. The blanket rustled between them.
“I’ve got class. Don’t you?”
It wasn’t until the second prod that his eyelids fluttered open, revealing eyes clouded with sleep.
“Afternoon lecture…”
With that drowsy mumble, the arm he’d slung around Jae-ha loosened. Freed from the lazy tangle of limbs, Jae-ha sat up.
“Eat before you go. Just heat it up.”
Even half-asleep, Hae-hyun made sure to remind him about breakfast, his voice sluggish but persistent. Jae-ha gave his shoulder a few light taps in response and stood. As he left the bed, Hae-hyun’s large frame stretched out slowly, adjusting to the space that had just opened up.
Just rolling over onto his stomach was enough to make the bed feel full again. By the time Jae-ha closed the door, steady breathing had resumed from inside. Maybe it was his size, but Hae-hyun really did eat a lot and sleep even more.
Unlike the early days when he’d acted like they were joined at the hip, Hae-hyun had become surprisingly hands-off—at least when he was awake. Later, Jae-ha learned that his condition had improved enough that they could be apart for a few days. Of course, Hae-hyun made sure to stress how much sharing a bed supposedly helped his recovery. Honestly, that sounded like total bullshit. But just in case, Jae-ha stuck to a strict routine of going to class and coming straight home.
The reason he was being so cooperative was simple.
Because Hae-hyun had been telling the truth.
Just one day into living together, Jae-ha had been freed from his unexplained insomnia. The negative ion bamboo body pillow he’d half-jokingly accepted into his home turned out to be the real deal. The Hongyeon Seonnyeo (female shaman that does spiritual readings) really is amazing. The effect was so instantaneous, it made him a believer overnight.
That’s also why he didn’t complain about the guy who crawled into his bed every night. Sure, it was a little warm and cramped, but if the choice was between restful sleep and tossing and turning in frustration all night, there was no contest.
When he opened the fridge in the kitchen connected to the living room, it was packed. A complete turnaround from before, when it only held the bare minimum for simple meals.
Despite being clueless about most aspects of daily life, there was one thing Hae-hyun could do shockingly well—cook.
On the first day they moved in together, Hae-hyun had said he was hungry, so Jae-ha microwaved a couple of chicken breasts. Taking his size into account, he even added two bananas to the plate as a considerate touch.
Hae-hyun had stared at the depressing meal in disbelief, then blurted out something ridiculous—asking if Jae-ha was trying to kick him out. As if in denial, he’d staggered to his feet, yanked open the fridge, and stood frozen at the sight: a fridge stuffed with chicken breast, eggs, bananas, and a handful of instant meals. His expression said it all—he was stunned into silence.
The very next day, Hae-hyun returned with an armful of groceries. He filled the kitchen with fresh ingredients, seasonings, and cookware, claiming the space as his own.
Every meal he cooked after that was different—vibrant, flavorful, and worthy of a restaurant menu. When Jae-ha asked how he learned to cook like that, he simply replied that it was a “survival hobby.” Which was hilarious, considering he acted like a spoiled rich kid. Had someone tried to starve him into learning? Whatever the backstory, one thing was clear—he was nothing like Jae-ha, who was perfectly content living off chicken breast and meal kits.
It wasn’t that Jae-ha didn’t know how to cook—he just couldn’t be bothered. But when someone was serving you delicious food every day? Only an idiot would say no. So, he happily became the lucky recipient of Hae-hyun’s culinary skills, coming home on time each day to enjoy rich, satisfying meals. Honestly, it was better than eating out. After polishing off his bowl in no time, Jae-ha washed the dishes with a satisfied grin.
Once his morning classes were done, he had the rest of the day free. Unfortunately, he shared those classes with Yoo Ji-hyang—the queen of menace—which meant suffering through brutally early mornings. A classic case of short-term gain, long-term pain. Just thinking about the nightmare of three early-morning lectures a week made his chest hurt. ‘Never again will I follow a friend into Gangnam.’
After class, Jae-ha was dragging his feet in a sleepy daze, while Ji-hyang was still bursting with energy. He dropped her off at the library, and just as he was turning to leave, his phone rang.
“Hello?”
— “Jae-ha! Are you busy today? Let’s go camping.”
A lively, upbeat voice burst through the receiver. It was a friend Jae-ha had met once during a night out—the kind of guy who acted like he’d die if he didn’t go out and have fun the moment he had even a sliver of free time. Every now and then, he’d hit up Jae-ha with a sudden invitation to hang out.
Not too long ago, after pleading over the phone, he’d dragged Jae-ha out to some bizarre guesthouse-slash-pickup-bar hybrid. They spent the night partying with a chaotic crowd of strangers, and when Jae-ha woke up the next morning, there were at least six or seven messages from unknown numbers on his phone. Even worse, his phone wallpaper had somehow been changed to a group photo with people he didn’t even recognize. He’d immediately changed it back in a panic.
Still, there was something oddly endearing about the friend’s wild unpredictability. Jae-ha didn’t really mind hearing from him. Besides, he didn’t have any classes the next morning, so his schedule was open enough. He was still debating whether to go or not when a voice suddenly exploded through the phone.
— “You little brat! Off drinking again?! Have you lost your damn mind?!”
— “N-No, Mom! It’s not like that!”
So… the outing hadn’t exactly been cleared with his parents. Jae-ha ended the call with a serene smile.
Then his phone rang again. Another friend.
This one was a part-time influencer, always on the hunt for trendy spots on social media. He’d made a dinner reservation at some fine-dining restaurant, but his original plus-one had canceled last minute. Now he was asking if Jae-ha could come instead.
He was a good guy, but hopelessly addicted to dating reality shows. If you didn’t keep up with the latest episodes, you were guaranteed to be left out of the conversation. Meeting him today would almost certainly mean getting spoiled on the newest episode Jae-ha hadn’t watched yet—so he politely declined and headed home. Not like he was missing much anyway. His own personal gourmet puppy-chef would be whipping up a meal that could rival any fancy restaurant.
When he walked in, the chef in question had already woken up and was lazily lounging around the living room. Judging by the impressive bird’s nest of bedhead, he’d slept like a baby.
“You’re back?”
At the sound of the door, Hae-hyun turned his head and ambled over. Jae-ha stepped out of his shoes, took off his coat, and asked,
“When are you heading out?”
“In about an hour. You done with class? What are you up to now?”
“Not sure. Thinking about watching a drama or something.”
He hadn’t been able to concentrate on videos for a while thanks to his insomnia. Now that things had finally settled, he figured it was time to catch up on all the shows he’d missed.
“Got it.”
With that, Hae-hyun quietly trailed after him into the bedroom. Was there something he wanted? Jae-ha glanced back, puzzled.
“Do you need something?”
“No?”
The expression on his face was pure and clueless. He genuinely didn’t seem to realize how strange it was to follow someone around aimlessly the second they got home.
‘Honestly, sometimes it feels like the dog was the real version.’ Hae-hyun kept saying the human form was his true self, and sure, Jae-ha went along with it—but considering they first met with him as a dog, the similarities in behavior were hard to ignore. So many of his habits were just… puppy-like.
“Uh, Sunbae. Hold on a sec.”
Out of nowhere, Hae-hyun reached out. His firm fingertips brushed gently along the corner of Jae-ha’s eye—a warm, fleeting touch.
“What was that?”
“You had an eyelash.”
He held up his hand and wiggled his fingers. A short lash clung to the tip—his fingers surprisingly long and thick for a guy.
“Oh. Thanks.”
“Have you eaten lunch?”
“Not yet.”
“What do we have in the fridge?”
Without needing to be asked, Hae-hyun headed straight for the kitchen. Watching that round back shuffle off with such quiet diligence, Jae-ha couldn’t help but smile to himself.
