“Mm…”
Haon stirred beneath the heavy winter blanket, his head peeking out cautiously. Only after confirming that he was in a familiar space did his restless eyes finally settle down.
For a moment, he had thought he was in a different bedroom because of the unfamiliar blanket. Instead of the usual white comforter he slept with, he found himself idly fiddling with a dark charcoal one as he sat up.
He had no idea why the blanket had been changed during the night, nor could he remember when exactly he’d fallen asleep. His last clear memory was of drinking with Inho and chatting about this and that. Haon couldn’t recall walking over to the bed on his own.
“Wine is dangerous…”
Regretfully acknowledging how he’d underestimated the sweet drink that had gone down like juice, Haon stepped off the bed. He shuffled over to the window, confirming that the sky outside was still gloomy, then made his way into the living room.
He had planned to ask Inho about what had happened the night before, but the man was nowhere in sight. The lights upstairs were off, suggesting he had gone out.
‘How long did I even sleep?’
He rubbed his stiff lower back while staring at the window, which gave no clues about the time.
It felt like he had slept forever, yet oddly enough, the soreness in his body lingered. Worse still, the aching in that area seemed even more intense than the day before. He reflexively clenched his backside and looked around. Even though no one was watching, he felt strangely embarrassed.
‘Now, what were we even talking about…?’
Rubbing at the stinging corners of his eyes, he slowly walked into the kitchen. He needed at least a glass of water to get his brain working again. He was still groggy, completely blank of thought.
“Ah.”
And just as he was sipping the second mouthful of lukewarm water, Haon’s eyes flew wide open.
He set the glass down and pressed a hand to his pounding head, letting out a long groan—not out of pain, but frustration.
“Idiot… you should’ve asked him…”
Memories of the night came trickling back—him and Inho, passing questions back and forth over drinks. A vague memory of talking about his mom surfaced, though the rest of the conversation was a total blur.
Frustrated, he lightly smacked his own head and sighed over and over. He deeply regretted having kicked away the perfect opportunity to really get to know Inho.
If only he hadn’t gotten drunk, he could’ve asked everything. There were so many things he wanted to know, but the only thing he managed to learn was Inho’s food preferences.
Sure, it was something he’d wanted to know, but there were way more pressing curiosities—like Inho’s job, for instance.
“Ugh…”
As Haon continued scolding himself, he suddenly walked over to the dining table. Sitting right in the middle was a single carton of soy milk. Next to it was a small note.
He rushed over, snatching up the memo first. Squinting with still-swollen eyes, he focused intently on the short message.
[I made rice porridge. Eat it if you can. Your phone’s on the nightstand.]
Haon repeatedly read Inho’s thoughtful note until it was nearly worn out, a bashful smile spreading across his face.
‘It would’ve been nice if he wrote where he was going,’ he thought briefly, but quickly caught himself and reined in the unreasonable desire. Just the fact that Inho had left a note was more than enough to make him happy.
And to think, he had made food again.
Haon glanced at the pot on the induction stove while lightly stroking the thin note. He wasn’t particularly hungry at the moment, but since Inho had gone through the trouble, he felt like he should at least taste it.
He figured he could manage a bite or two, so he grabbed a spoon and lifted the lid on the pot.
The rice porridge was so thin it was nearly water, making it less off-putting. While still standing, Haon scooped a small portion into a bowl and began to fill his empty stomach.
It went down easier than expected—probably because he hadn’t eaten anything in almost five days. Or maybe it was because Inho had made it himself.
After washing the used bowl and spoon right away, he picked the note up again. Inho’s handwriting was a bit different from what he’d imagined. No, actually, it was a lot different.
“He… has terrible handwriting.”
Haon muttered the blunt observation to himself and suppressed a laugh. It wasn’t illegible, but the messy scrawl didn’t seem to match Inho’s otherwise flawless image. The lines were crooked, the letter sizes all over the place.
To put it nicely, it reflected a free-spirited personality. To put it bluntly, it looked like a child had written it.
He silently laughed, covering his mouth. But realizing it might be rude, he bit his lip to stop.
His lips, crusted over with scabs, thankfully no longer hurt. Aside from the lingering soreness in his cheeks and butt, the aches in his back and limbs were now barely noticeable.
Still, he was a bit worried—his butt hurt more than it had the day before.
‘I should probably check it myself,’ he thought as he headed back to the bedroom. On the way, he glanced again at the note Inho had left, his lips twitching into a smile.
The more he looked at it, the more that squiggly handwriting looked like a drawing. It wasn’t quite a sketch—more like a doodle—but to Haon’s eyes, it felt like a charming little piece of art.
Just as he was about to close the door and pull down his pants, his eyes landed on the nightstand. There was his phone, charging.
He picked it up absentmindedly—then suddenly gasped.
He’d completely lost track of the days. His weekend part-time job had just popped back into his mind.
“Shit. Seriously…”
Haon snatched up his phone in a panic. The moment he saw the date, despair hit him so hard his legs nearly gave out. Saturday had already passed.
Thud, thud! He stumbled, falling twice before scrambling to his feet and rushing to change his clothes. He stubbed his toe on the bathroom threshold, but the urgency dulled the pain.
After a hasty brushing of his teeth and a quick splash of water on his face, Haon ran out the door—he didn’t even spare a glance at the mirror.
***
Thankfully, he managed to catch a taxi quickly. Haon climbed in, hurriedly trying to fix his disheveled hair, when his mouth suddenly fell open in shock.
The taxi driver, who had been glancing at him through the rearview mirror, noticed Haon’s pale face and asked,
“What is it? Did you forget something?”
He had left his phone behind. And even his wallet, which he usually kept in his pocket.
“Ah… n-no.”
Haon shook his head and took a deep breath. The taxi fare had already surpassed the base rate. Even if he got out now, he didn’t have any money to pay, so he had no choice but to go all the way to the shop.
Feeling shameless, he pressed his hands together like a prayer, mentally preparing to ask Tae-hwi hyung for a loan. Not only had he missed work without notice, now he had to borrow money on top of that.
Haon had never borrowed money from anyone in his life, and the thought weighed heavily on him. He didn’t even have the mental capacity to worry about the phone he’d left at home.
It wasn’t until he arrived at the store that he realized he hadn’t even left a message for Inho.
***
“You can stop just up there.”
Haon pointed to the faded sign that read A Glass of Beer. The closer they got to the shop, the more nervous he became. The sign wasn’t lit yet—it was still daytime—but the entrance was open. It looked like the others had already started their shifts.
“Sir, I’m really sorry, but…”
Before the driver could hit the payment button, Haon finally opened his mouth with difficulty.
“I actually… forgot my wallet. Could you wait just a moment?”
He added that he would leave his coat behind as collateral and began taking it off. The driver frowned slightly, eyeing Haon’s shabby outerwear.
“You wouldn’t be the first person to leave a jacket and then rabbit.”
“I work here at this store. I’ll be back in just a minute…”
“Then leave your phone instead.”
Haon’s face twisted in frustration as he pressed on his empty pocket and confessed he had forgotten his phone too. At that, the driver turned to look at him closely.
“Did you run away from somewhere or something?”
“Huh?”
“If it’s something like that, I can take you straight to the police station. It’s nearby.”
Just as a flustered Haon tilted his head in confusion, someone tapped on the taxi window. Tae-hwi, his brow furrowed in irritation, was peering inside. He must’ve come out because no one had gotten out of the car parked in front of the store.
“Oh, what the—Haon?”
Haon started to open the door, but hesitated under the driver’s gaze and instead rolled down the window. Tae-hwi gave him a surprised look, clearly wondering why he wasn’t getting out.
“Well… hyung, I…”
The words Can I borrow some money? stuck in his throat. It wasn’t even a huge amount—barely thirty thousand won—but asking for help like this felt incredibly difficult.
“S-sorry, but…”
“What is it? Just say it.”
Tae-hwi’s expression turned serious as he watched Haon’s chapped lips move soundlessly, sweat beading on his forehead. The kid looked so out of it, his appearance alone was cause for concern.
“The kid says he left his wallet,” the taxi driver cut in, clearly fed up with waiting.
“Huh?” Tae-hwi leaned toward the window and, realizing what the driver meant, quickly fished around in his pocket.
“Hold on, sir! I’ll grab the cash right now!”
After explaining that his card was in his bag, Tae-hwi dashed into the store, hurried and breathless, asking the driver to wait just a moment.
Watching Tae-hwi run inside, offering help without even a second’s hesitation, made Haon’s nose sting with emotion.
“You sure I don’t need to take you to the police station?”
The taxi driver threw out another bizarre question. Haon figured he must’ve assumed he’d lost both his wallet and phone, so he quickly reassured him that everything was fine.
“No, not that. I mean… your face…”
Just then, a hand suddenly extended into the car window, holding a card. Haon’s eyes widened in surprise at the sight of the hand—much larger than Tae-hwi’s.
“Please charge it to this.”
Haon tilted his head up toward the deep voice in astonishment. The moment he saw who it belonged to, a puzzled look filled his wide, round eyes.
‘What is he doing here?’—his gaze clearly said.
