-The person you are trying to reach is currently unavailable.
Sa-yoon checked his messages and immediately called back. But after waiting through the long dial tone, all he got was a cold automated response.
He returned to the messenger screen and checked the time. The message had arrived three hours ago.
“If someone doesn’t reply, you should call them. What the hell are you doing?”
Of course, his phone, an inanimate object, had no answer for him. Frustrated, Sa-yoon grumbled at the 1.2-million-won device and pulled out a cigarette. His nerves were unsettled, and it took him a few shaky tries to light it.
His thumb hovered over the screen like a restless bird with nowhere to land. Finally, it settled on the call button.
— Tr-ring…
As the dial tone played again, Sa-yoon calmly organized his thoughts. First, he’d ask where they were. If they said they were back, he’d set up a meeting. As for why they’d disappeared for a whole week… he’d ask that in person.
But he never got the chance.
-The person you are trying to reach is currently unavailable.
His second call also went straight to the automated message. It could be a momentary whim or an unavoidable situation preventing them from answering. Logically speaking, the former was more likely.
Back at his seat, the birthday cake Min-gyu had bought was being set up. The candles were lit, and soon, the song began. Taking his place as the guest of honor, Sa-yoon clapped along mechanically.
“Happy birthday to you.”
But what if they’re waiting?
“……Happy birthday, dear Cha Sa-yoon!”
What if their phone is broken, and they have no way to contact me, standing out in the cold rain, waiting?
“Hey, make a wish!”
Nah. No way. They’re not a kid.
Sa-yoon blew out the nine candles in front of him. He sliced the cake evenly among the group, and as they ate, the chatter at the table never ceased.
He took a bite of his share. His mouth was instantly coated in the slick texture of franchise-brand cream. He winced at the taste of artificial whipped cream, while off to the side, the group had moved on to preparing the birthday drink.
He quickly rinsed his mouth with water and quietly grabbed his phone and wallet from the table.
“Hey, Cha Sa-yoon, freeze. What do you think you’re doing?”
“I have somewhere to be.”
“Oh, come on, are you dodging the birthday drink again?”
“Woo~ The birthday boy has to take his shot!”
“You think we’re falling for that trick twice?”
“Oh, weary soul, cast away your troubles and accept this sacred birthday drink.”
Thud. Amidst the chorus of jeers, a heavy glass was set down in front of Sa-yoon. It was far larger than a standard glass used at bars.
As if someone had wanted to test surface tension, the liquid inside was filled to the very edge. Worse, the soju ratio was so high that calling it a somaek (soju-beer mix) was a joke—it was practically pale lemon in color. The intent to knock out the birthday boy was painfully obvious.
But without a word, Sa-yoon picked up the glass. His throat bobbed as he downed the drink in one go. His classmates, who had been clapping and chanting for a one-shot, now stared in open shock.
“What’s up with him?”
“Did he break up with someone?”
“Wait, Cha Sa-yoon was dating?”
“I had no idea… but he was acting super intense earlier.”
“Shouldn’t we stop him?”
Despite the hushed, urgent murmurs going around, Sa-yoon steadily emptied his glass.
“Done. I really have something urgent, so I’m heading out first.”
“Hey, wait—!”
Even as they called out to him, Sa-yoon didn’t stop walking.
It was strange. The moment he decided to head home, an unbearable sense of urgency overtook him. It had already been three hours, meaning whoever had been waiting was long gone—but that didn’t matter.
His pace quickened. By the time he stepped onto the main road to catch a cab, he was practically running.
***
As he stepped out of the taxi, Sa-yoon opened his umbrella. If Sa Shin-jae was still there, he’d have to take them to a nearby café. That was the plan.
That was why he had bought this overpriced, flimsy convenience store umbrella—because deep down, he had been hoping.
It took just five seconds to scan the narrow alley, barely wide enough for a single car. The transparent umbrella didn’t obstruct his view as he checked both sides of the street.
“…Ha.”
There was no one in front of his place. Just in case, he even walked the length of the alley, but in this drizzling rain on a weekday evening, he was the only one wandering the streets.
For a moment, he stood frozen, then pulled out his phone and made one last call.
— The person you are trying to reach is currently unavailable.
His body went slack. This wasn’t some era without phones—there was no reason for them to have waited this long without a single message.
Honestly, he had known, even while rushing over, that he was being an idiot.
“Hah… what the hell am I doing?”
He laughed bitterly. Sprinting over here just because of one message—he felt ridiculous. But ignoring it hadn’t been an option.
Only now did he realize how sore his knees were from the rain and running. On top of that, a headache started creeping in, probably from the alcohol.
He had forgotten about his assignment, which meant he was definitely getting a C. He had walked out in the middle of a long-awaited reunion with his classmates. And the person he had dated for all of one day had sent a single message before cutting contact.
Could his birthday have gone any worse?
Pressing a hand to his forehead, Sa-yoon let out a sigh and started walking again.
Just behind his apartment was a small park. It wasn’t much—just a couple of stretching machines and a few benches. But every season, different flowers bloomed there, making it a favorite spot for locals to take a stroll.
And it was also where Sa-yoon always stopped for a smoke before heading home.
Sa-yoon stopped as he stepped into the park’s entrance, where tangled vines wove chaotically around the trees.
Someone was sitting on a worn-out bench, completely exposed to the rain. No roof overhead, no shelter—just a lone figure, drenched to the bone in the sudden drop in temperature. And they weren’t even wearing a coat.
Am I seeing things?
Though the person sat hunched over, arms resting on their knees with their head bowed, Sa-yoon recognized them instantly.
When faced with an entirely unexpected situation, the brain tends to stall. For a moment, Sa-yoon stood frozen at the entrance before narrowing his eyes and walking toward the bench.
Even as he approached, the man didn’t lift his head. Sa-yoon crouched down right in front of him and gave his damp, honey-blond head a light tap.
The moment his hand made contact, the figure jerked away violently, snapping his head up.
Despite the gloomy weather and his utterly soaked state, there was no hiding that face—it still shone brilliantly. Shin-jae scowled, scanning Sa-yoon from head to toe.
“…What the hell are you doing here?”
The moment he registered who was in front of him, the wariness in his gaze faded, replaced by a slow-spreading surprise. The change was strikingly obvious.
His lips, pale from the cold and exposure, parted slightly, and a droplet of rain fell from the plump curve of his upper lip.
“…….Sa-yoon hyung?”
Why does he look so thin?
While Shin-jae studied him, Sa-yoon was doing the same.
The once-soft features had sharpened as his cheeks hollowed out. His skin, which used to look smooth enough to sink a finger into, now appeared rough. And judging by the bloodshot veins in his eyes, he clearly hadn’t been sleeping well.
Sa-yoon had always thought of Shin-jae as a bright, lively cherry tomato. But now, he looked like one that had been drained of all its color by some wicked sorcerer.
If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he might not have known. But now that he had, an unbearable tightness settled in his chest.
“Why are you coming out from there?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you’re supposed to come out from there…”
Shin-jae gestured vaguely to his right, then abruptly trailed off as realization dawned on his face.
Sa-yoon followed his gaze and saw a house partially hidden between the trees. It only took him a second to put the pieces together.
“…So, it wasn’t this house.”
“It’s the one in the next block.”
The house behind them had been a project his father had worked on. The shape of the gate, the color of the walls, even the mailbox—all of it was nearly identical. It was a common enough mistake; even visitors to his home often got lost.
Still, to confuse the place twice? The distant look in Shin-jae’s eyes made it clear that Sa-yoon wasn’t the only one who had been out of it lately.
More than anything, what were the odds that he had ended up here by sheer coincidence? He had planned to drink himself stupid at the gathering, take a cab straight to his front door, and crash in bed.
“What would you have done if I hadn’t come here? Why didn’t you answer your phone?”
“Ah….”
Shin-jae let out a vague noise and pulled out his phone from his pocket. The screen was black.
“…Guess it died. I forgot to charge it.”
“You could’ve bought a charger and waited somewhere like a café.”
“…Didn’t think of that.”
As Shin-jae lowered his gaze, raindrops clung to his long eyelashes like suspended tears.
Sa-yoon let out a sigh. Watching him shiver, completely drenched, was frustrating. He was in no condition to go anywhere—he’d just be a nuisance wherever he went.
Shin-jae flinched slightly, as if taking that sigh as a reprimand.
“How long have you been here…? Never mind. Just get up.”
“Hyung, wait a second.”
As Sa-yoon reached out to help him up, his expression hardened.
Shin-jae’s hands, usually warm, were ice cold. His already pale complexion was practically drained of color, making him look even more wind-bitten.
“I… I really wanted to say happy birthday,” Shin-jae stammered, hurriedly pushing something toward him as if he had misread Sa-yoon’s reaction.
Only then did Sa-yoon notice the plastic bag Shin-jae had been clutching tightly to his chest.
Except—it wasn’t a plastic bag.
It was a thin windbreaker.
But the texture and the way it crinkled… It genuinely looked like a cheap plastic bag. Where the hell did he even buy this thing?
While Sa-yoon was still reeling from that unexpected detail, Shin-jae carefully peeled away the plastic covering, revealing what was inside.
A cake box.
The entire time, he had been cradling it like something precious, shielding it from the rain.
