Haon blinked, momentarily thrown off by the sudden change in topic. He hadn’t expected to be asked anything about his mother.
“You said you came to Seoul because your mother lives here, right? I was just wondering why you’re not living together.”
Inho poured a bit more wine into Haon’s half-empty glass.
“If it’s something uncomfortable to talk about, you don’t have to say anything.”
“No… it’s not like that.”
Haon took a sip of the sweet wine, moistening his lips before gently wiping them. His gaze drifted into the air as if trying to sort through his thoughts.
“I was separated from my mom when I was really young.”
His voice, when it finally came, was calm after a long pause. Inho nodded without surprise, as though he had already guessed as much.
“She said she’d come back in three years, but she got really busy and couldn’t make it.”
His soft-spoken voice continued at a steady pace.
With bruised-looking lips, Haon gave a hollow smile and took another drink. The sweetness spreading in his mouth was comforting, and his hand kept reaching for more.
“She left an address, told me to come find her whenever I wanted to see her.”
As he spoke slowly, he stroked the rounded wine glass and blinked slowly, his eyelids fluttering shut and open again. A rosy flush spread across his cheeks, warmed by the alcohol.
Haon, recalling the note his mother had left behind, traced a small square in the air with his finger. He didn’t explain what it was—he simply drew the shape again in the air.
“Then why didn’t you go find her?”
Inho picked up the conversation when Haon fell silent. His eyes lingered on the rise and fall of Haon’s long eyelashes.
“I thought… she’d be busy.”
Haon’s gentle gaze trembled faintly as he stared down at the wine glass.
“I’ll go see her before I leave.”
He muttered this into the rim of his glass before draining it in one go. He had only planned to drink one glass, but he’d already had another half on top of that.
“This is really good.”
Unable to ask outright for more, he touched the empty glass and glanced at Inho. Licking his lips and eyeing the wine bottle and Inho in turn, Haon caught the faint smile on Inho’s face as he poured another round.
“Alright, it’s your turn again, Haon. Ask me something you’re curious about.”
With the chance to ask questions passed to him, a spark lit up in Haon’s eyes. “Just a sec,” he said, adjusting his posture seriously as he mulled over what to ask. There were so many things he wanted to know that narrowing it down to one was the hard part.
“What kind of food do you like?”
After all that thinking, it was only a question about food preferences.
Inho covered his mouth, lowering his head as he failed to hold back his laughter.
“Sorry, I’m sorry.”
Haon looked at him in mild embarrassment, watching Inho laugh heartily behind his hands. Despite himself, Haon found his lips curling into a smile as he laughed along.
It was the first time Haon had seen him laugh like that. He was so used to Inho’s calm, composed smiles that seeing his shoulders shake with laughter felt surreal—like watching a doll suddenly come to life.
“Hmm, let’s see… food I like…”
Inho folded his arms as if he were seriously contemplating the question. Haon’s heart gave another thump, thump, making its presence known as he caught the lingering trace of laughter in Inho’s eyes.
“That’s a tough one. It really depends on the moment.”
The answer was a bit bland, as if he didn’t have any particular favorites.
Still, Haon felt a strange delight at discovering something they had in common. He didn’t have any standout preferences either. If he had to choose, it would be something sweet or easy to digest.
“But I do know what I hate. Sweet and tasteless things.”
Ah… so he doesn’t like overly sweet stuff. Haon mentally locked away the new piece of information so he wouldn’t forget it.
“Now it’s my turn to ask a question, right?”
“Yes, go ahead.”
Inho unfolded his arms and casually brushed his cheek with his long index finger. Even that meaningless gesture somehow looked effortlessly cool, and Haon had to give his racing heart a stern warning. He was seriously worried Inho might hear it pounding.
“When was the first time you drank alcohol, Haon?”
Relieved by the easy question, he immediately answered.
“When I was nineteen.”
He used his fingers to gesture the number, grinning widely for no particular reason—his cheeks flushed from the alcohol.
“Ah, I drank it just a few days before I became a legal adult.”
Since he’d still been a student at the time, he added the clarification as if trying to defend himself in case Inho thought badly of him.
“Was it with that close hyung of yours?”
“Yes, that’s right!”
On Haon’s nineteenth birthday, Seong-gu hyung had brought a ton of beer and makgeolli, saying he was old enough now. Haon had passed out after just one glass of makgeolli mixed heavily with cider, and apparently, his grandmother and Seong-gu hyung had finished off the rest through the night.
“I drank with my grandma and Seong-gu hyung on my birthday.”
“That must’ve been your last birthday as a teen, huh?”
“It wasn’t really a party or anything…”
Even as he said that, Haon nodded shyly. A bright, genuine smile spread across his face. It had been a long time since he’d smiled like that while thinking of his grandmother. It warmed him.
“When is your birthday again, Haon?”
Inho tilted his head slightly, saying he remembered seeing it on the contract but had forgotten.
Haon thought to himself, It’s supposed to be my turn to ask, but he still answered sincerely.
“December 15th.”
“Exactly three months away, then.”
Just as Inho said, Haon’s birthday was three months from now. That time of year when the last page of the calendar turns and the air fills with the atmosphere of year’s end. A season warm for some, bitter cold for others.
“So you were born in the cold.”
Inho leaned back in his seat, sipping his drink in a relaxed posture. Since he didn’t seem to have another question in mind, Haon figured it was his turn and cautiously asked,
“When is it…?”
Inho tilted his head at the vague question.
“When is what?”
“Your birthday… when is it?”
“Whose birthday?”
Even though it was perfectly clear, Inho rested his chin in his palm with a curious expression, pretending not to understand.
Thinking Inho genuinely didn’t get it, Haon looked flustered and nervously touched his chapped lips. ‘Why is saying just one name so difficult?’
“Whose birthday could he possibly be asking about? I have no clue,” Inho muttered teasingly, rolling his nearly empty glass between his fingers.
Haon kept brushing his lips and forehead, hesitating, until he finally spoke—barely audible.
“Yours… Inho-ssi’s birthday.”
“Oh, mine?”
With a wide grin, Inho pointed at his chest and laughed. Mischief sparkled in his sly smile—it was the first time Haon had ever called him by name.
“May 1st.”
“May 1st…”
Haon echoed the date softly, committing it to memory. To make sure he wouldn’t forget, he pressed his thumb down and smiled brightly. He thought it suited Inho perfectly—a season that matched him well.
“You were born in warm weather.”
It was a simple, ordinary comment, but Inho’s eyes widened slightly, as if that thought had never occurred to him before.
But Haon didn’t notice his expression, too distracted by the wine in front of him.
While Haon carefully nursed his drink, Inho watched him quietly. Their eyes met before long, and Haon, gripping the ever-tilting wine glass, leaned toward him.
“Um, it’s your turn now, Inho-ssi.”
It felt incredibly awkward to call him by name. Haon figured he’d have to say it more often to get used to it.
“It’s Inho-ssi’s turn to ask a question.”
So he said it again—on purpose.
“I already asked mine, so now it’s your turn, Inho-ssi.”
Even after repeating it three times, Inho said nothing. He simply smiled that soft, round smile and kept looking at Haon.
‘Hurry and ask something. If you don’t… I’ll just keep calling your name.’
“If you keep calling me, that’s just fine with me.”
Inho chuckled, as if he’d heard Haon’s thoughts loud and clear.
Startled, Haon instinctively brought a hand to his chest.
‘How did he know what I was thinking?’
“Right? It’s kind of amazing, isn’t it?”
Haon’s eyes went wide as he gasped, utterly unaware that he was practically saying his thoughts out loud. Inho, amused by Haon’s drunken honesty, picked up the empty wine glass and stood from his seat.
“Now, the last question.”
Inho stepped closer and gently placed his hand on Haon’s cheek, marred with bruises.
Startled by the unexpected touch, Haon blinked, frozen in place. His face, already flushed, burned even hotter. His mind blanked—there was nothing but the overwhelming warmth of the moment. He was simply… happy.
“Huh?”
He hadn’t caught the question, too caught up in smiling to process Inho’s words. He’d definitely heard the sound of his voice, but the meaning had slipped away the moment it entered his ears. ‘So this is why people say alcohol is dangerous.’
“S-sorry… I didn’t catch that.”
Haon looked up at him, asking for the question again.
His dark, amethyst eyes flicked upward with a familiar reflex—always watching for signs, always gauging reactions. Worry crept in. What if Inho thought he wasn’t paying attention? What if he’d annoyed him? The thought alone made his chest tighten.
“I’m not upset.”
Inho whispered gently, then slid his hand away from Haon’s swollen cheek and instead cradled his smooth, rounded forehead.
As if checking for a fever, he softly touched his skin, lowering himself to Haon’s eye level. Then he repeated the question.
“Has something like this ever happened before?”
Haon held his breath at the closeness of Inho’s face, then slowly nodded.
But the moment he saw the laughter vanish from Inho’s expression, he quickly shook his head, as if to take it back.
