The longer the silence dragged on, the more restless Hae-hyun became, fidgeting with his hands and feet. It was hard to believe this was the same guy who had been glaring sullenly in protest just moments ago. Finally, in a voice so small it was almost swallowed, he murmured:
“…I’m sorry.”
Only then did Jae-ha’s expression ease.
“Are you going to do it again?”
At the stern question, Hae-hyun shook his head furiously.
“No. Never again. If anything feels strange, I’ll tell you right away.”
His posture was rigid, his eyes shining with sincerity, as if he were truly repenting. It was ridiculous—yet oddly a little cute. Jae-ha caught himself thinking that, then scowled. Damn it, not again. After being strung along all this time, why the hell was he softening up?
Listening to Hae-hyun’s explanation only made his thoughts more tangled, as if the puzzle pieces were fitting together in the worst way possible. According to him, the only reason he had stuck so close to Jae-ha all this time was to suppress the curse.
Such a neat excuse. It felt like something he had prepared in advance, ready for when Jae-ha eventually demanded answers. …Was this bastard actually a player? Something about it felt like a trap.
“…Are you really mad at me?”
Maybe he thought Jae-ha’s scowl meant anger—given the timing, it wasn’t an unreasonable guess. Hae-hyun asked carefully. Jae-ha sighed and shook his head.
“No. I was just thinking about the curse.”
It wasn’t a lie. He was thinking about the curse—and about Ju Hae-hyun’s cowardly way of hiding behind it. Quietly, Jae-ha shifted the topic.
“So who could’ve cursed me, anyway?”
“No one who’d hold a grudge? Not an ex?”
“They’re not the type. Most of the time they dumped me, anyway.”
“Fair enough. If what you said is true, they wouldn’t curse you to drown—you’d end up with something more like a ‘loser’s curse.’ Always humiliated, constantly embarrassed…”
“……”
Which was worse, really? As Jae-ha pondered, Hae-hyun asked another question.
“You said you had nightmares, right? What were they about?”
“Mm…”
Jae-ha searched his hazy memory. Life with Hae-hyun had already become so familiar that his sleepless nights felt like a distant past.
“I dreamed I was half-submerged in black water. Nothing around me at all, just an endless sea.”
At first, it was harmless. He had splashed around, playing in the water. The sea might have been dark, but the sky was clear, the air pleasantly cool. For a while, it felt almost fun—until the moment he realized something was wrong. He was alone.
That was when he tried to leave. Of course, it didn’t work.
The water only came up to his waist, rippling with gentle waves that never knocked him down, but also never let him go. No matter how loudly he shouted, his voice never carried. No matter how far he walked, there was no shore.
“Eventually, when I grew tired and started wanting to just sit down, a hand reached up from beneath the water and grabbed me.”
The hands, coaxing him to sink and rest, kept tugging him downward. At the same time, he noticed the water level rising—slowly but steadily.
He struggled too late. And like everything else he had tried in that dream, it was useless. The water climbed past his chest, over his shoulders, until it reached the base of his neck. That was when he’d jolt awake, drenched in cold sweat, as if struck by lightning.
“…Could be a water ghost,” Hae-hyun muttered uncertainly. But even as he said it, his expression betrayed doubt.
Water ghosts were usually bound spirits that targeted anyone passing by. They didn’t latch onto specific people.
And if even Haetae’s exorcising energy couldn’t drive it away, then it had to be a powerful evil spirit. For a water ghost that strong to still linger in the mortal realm was rare.
“I’ll check if there’s a water ghost the Guardians haven’t identified yet.”
“Guardians?”
The unfamiliar word made Jae-ha tilt his head. Hae-hyun shrugged.
“It’s the agency where people like me work. I haven’t joined yet since I’m still in school.”
Descendants of spiritual bloodlines usually became exorcists. The Guardians were a government body that dispatched them across the country and supported their work.
“Huh. And they pay well?”
“They’ve got pensions too. It’s a government job.”
“The government handles ghost-busting? What the hell kind of administration is that?”
Jae-ha clicked his tongue. There was really such an agency? That meant the Korean government knew exactly which ghosts appeared, how they were exorcised—everything. Even ghosts’ private lives were monitored. The government sounded scarier than the spirits themselves.
“I’ll look more into your dream too. There aren’t that many water-related spirits, so I should be able to narrow it down.”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
Jae-ha patted Hae-hyun’s shoulder. Nodding firmly, Hae-hyun promised he’d track it down. But then he remembered their earlier conversation, and his expression tightened again. His sharp brows furrowed steeper than usual.
“But, you know…”
“Yeah?”
“You really don’t have any other reason to be mad at me?”
“What, for hiding the curse from me?”
“…Not that.”
His voice shrank, timid now. Jae-ha decided to stop teasing him.
“What reason would I have to be mad at you?”
It was a plain answer, but Hae-hyun suddenly stepped closer. Before he knew it, Jae-ha’s back was pressed against the wall, Hae-hyun right in front of him. The closeness was suffocating. Jae-ha barely managed not to flinch.
“I get lonely when you don’t spend time with me.”
The low, drawn-out voice sounded almost like a pout. Leaning in, Hae-hyun rested his forehead on Jae-ha’s shoulder. His warmth pressed down heavily.
“You barely reply to my texts. You hardly ever pick up when I call.”
“…I keep my notifications off. And my phone’s on vibrate most of the time.”
Cutting off his excuse, Hae-hyun grumbled.
“Then change it to ringtone. Now. Just switch to vibrate during class.”
Refusing would be the same as admitting he planned to keep ignoring calls. That was too obvious. With a childish sort of defiance, Jae-ha changed his settings right there so that Hae-hyun’s calls would both ring and vibrate. He even showed him. Pleased, Hae-hyun brightened and kept chatting.
“There’s a movie coming out you’d love. You even said it was one of your most-anticipated. I saved it so I could watch it with you.”
His voice, muffled against Jae-ha’s shoulder, resonated softly. Hae-hyun rubbed his forehead lightly against him before lifting his head. Their eyes met at close range.
“Let’s go see it together.”
“……”
“Don’t you want to watch it with me?”
Those sorrowful eyes drooped like puppy ears. Without thinking, Jae-ha’s hand rose, brushing through his hair before he realized it.
Shit. What the hell am I doing? …But he’s definitely hitting on me. He looks like a puppy, but he’s a fox.
Suppressing the chaos in his chest, Jae-ha forced out a reply.
“That’s not what I meant.”
But even to his own ears, his voice sounded far too gentle.
“Then you’ll watch it with me?”
Hae-hyun caught it immediately. His face lit up, eyes sparkling, almost glowing in the dark.
Pretend you didn’t notice. Cave in here and you’re an idiot. Jae-ha blinked slowly, stubbornness surging back into his chest.
“Sure. If I’ve got time later.”
“So when…?”
“Sorry. I’ve got too much on my plate right now. I don’t know when I’ll be free.”
The vague answer dimmed Hae-hyun’s expression. Jae-ha avoided the weight of his disappointed gaze.
Things were going the way he wanted, yet it didn’t feel satisfying at all.
Dragging his feet, Jae-ha went to the bedroom and lay down, still torn.
He likes me that much—so what’s the harm in one movie? People watch movies with friends all the time. It’s not like we’d start making out in the theater. Just a couple of hours together. No big deal.
“Sunbae, are you asleep?”
Fresh from the shower, Hae-hyun entered the bedroom a little later. Tonight, for some reason, he seemed unusually timid as he climbed onto the bed. He placed a tentative hand on Jae-ha, then, realizing there was no rejection, nestled close as he always did. The small bed filled easily, the closeness familiar.
“Sunbae.”
“……”
Jae-ha deliberately stayed silent. And it seemed Hae-hyun hadn’t been expecting a reply anyway.
Sliding an arm around Jae-ha’s waist, Hae-hyun pulled him close and pressed his face into his shoulder. His cheek and nose rubbed lightly against the fabric of Jae-ha’s T-shirt, carrying a faint scent of soap.
“…Good night.”
