“What time are you planning to go until today? Let’s make a schedule.”
“Wow, you’re such a hardcore J.”
“You’re an MBTI fanatic too?”
“Not really. I’m thinking of heading back around nine.”
“That’s earlier than I expected. Do you need a warm-up when you study? Or do you start right away?”
“Whatever you’re comfortable with.”
“Then let’s start right away while we eat. My mom’s old desk is a bit cramped for two people, so we can use that table.”
Han Jun dragged the table that had been sitting in front of the sofa to the spacious center of the room and took a seat there. As Yi-hyeon was about to sit across from him, Han Jun grabbed his wrist and pulled him closer.
“If you sit there, the writing will look upside down to me.”
If you came here to be taught, shouldn’t you obviously sit next to the person teaching you? Han Jun gestured to the spot beside him with his eyes.
“Ah…… is that so?”
Sliding his hips closer and sitting beside Han Jun, Yi-hyeon suddenly felt inexplicably shy. His nape flushed red, and pretending to look for his workbook, he buried his face in his bag for a while, not lifting it until the heat faded.
Han Jun’s flawless English pronunciation and deep, steady voice—honed from having lived in the U.S. for a long time—were like a voice actor’s ASMR that induced sleep. On top of that, the languid sunlight streaming through the large window made his body grow drowsy in no time.
The fragrance filling the room felt like the warm embrace of a mother, and before Yi-hyeon realized it, his head nodded forward. The sharp sound of knuckles tapping on the table—knock, knock—stimulated Yi-hyeon’s sensitive hearing, and his eyes flew open again.
“Dozing off? With focus that bad, no wonder your grades drop.”
Stung by Han Jun’s immediate attack, Yi-hyeon lied, saying he hadn’t been sleeping.
“Then wipe the drool off the corner of your mouth before you talk.”
“Gah—did I drool?”
“So you were asleep.”
“……”
Yi-hyeon quickly wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Han Jun, who had been looking at him with exasperation, let out a sigh and set down the pen he was holding with a sharp tap.
Yi-hyeon tensed, thinking he was about to snap and say he couldn’t teach a student with no grit, but instead, Han Jun suddenly propped one arm on the table, rested his chin on his hand, and tilted his head toward Yi-hyeon.
With the light behind him, his black eyes looked even deeper. If Yi-hyeon kept meeting his gaze, his lovestruck, foolish expression would probably fill those eyes completely. Pretending to straighten his posture, he naturally averted his gaze.
“These are all words that show up on the CSAT. You have to memorize all of them by next week. Got it? Where are you looking? I’m talking to you.”
At Han Jun’s scolding, Yi-hyeon reluctantly lifted his eyes again. Between the smoothly falling strands of his bangs, those clear, sharp eyes—dark pupils gleaming—stared straight through Yi-hyeon.
Shaking his head unconsciously, as if to shake off the thought of wanting to pop those glossy, deep circles like bubbles, Yi-hyeon tried to clear his mind.
“What? You can’t do it?”
Han Jun misunderstood the head shake and asked again.
“No. It’s not that.”
“Wasn’t that a ‘I can’t do it’ shake just now?”
“That’s not it, it’s just……”
“Then what?”
After hesitating for a moment at Han Jun’s question, Yi-hyeon scrubbed his forehead roughly with his hand and let out a sigh.
“Ha… I don’t know. Maybe you’re right—I can’t focus. I was actually dozing off. The scent in this room feels so cozy that it makes me really sleepy.”
“Scent?”
“The smell right now.”
“Oh, this? Smells good, right? It’s my mom’s old perfume.”
“Yeah.”
“That’s it?”
“Huh?”
“You’re not going to ask?”
Still resting his chin on his hand and facing Yi-hyeon, Han Jun asked.
“Ask what?”
“You saw the photos when you came up the stairs.”
“That’s just…… anyway, I just need to memorize these English words by the CSAT, right?”
Trying to give the impression that he wasn’t particularly fixated on Han Jun’s background, Yi-hyeon pretended to examine the words Han Jun had checked off.
“By next week.”
“Ah…… next week.”
“The way you’re rambling, I guess you noticed.”
As if probing Yi-hyeon’s reaction, Han Jun persistently brought it up. Left with no choice, Yi-hyeon finally opened his mouth.
“If you invited me to your house and left the photos hanging as they were, didn’t you kind of want me to notice?”
“That’s right.”
“Wasn’t it supposed to be a secret?”
“It was. But a part of me wanted at least one person to know. That I’m the one and only precious son of actress Joo Mi-yeon.”
The quiet way Han Jun spoke sent a small ripple through Yi-hyeon’s chest. In that moment, Yi-hyeon wanted to know—how much trust Han Jun was placing in him, and whether he could repay that trust.
“Han Jun.”
“What?”
“Can I think that you told me because you trust me that much?”
Han Jun’s eyes widened slightly, then narrowed again, forming something like a smiling gaze.
“Yeah.”
A brief silence brushed past the space between them.
“Alright, break’s over. Let’s get back to the book.”
As if trying to erase the awkwardness, Han Jun slapped the open book with his palm a few times.
“Han Jun.”
Han Jun, who had lowered his gaze to the book, tilted his head up again at Yi-hyeon’s call.
“You can trust me. Not just because you think I’ll keep your secret—I’m confident I can protect it no matter what. You said it yourself, right? If something difficult happens, I should contact you. And if you’re struggling or have worries, tell me too. Anything we talk about, I’ll take to the grave.”
For a while, Han Jun silently studied Yi-hyeon’s eyes. Then, as if hiding slightly sad eyes behind relaxed lids, he curved them into a soft eye-smile.
“Okay. I will.”
Saying he was suddenly thirsty and would go make some coffee, Han Jun stood up from his seat. He turned his head away and didn’t look at Yi-hyeon, but the weight his movement left behind pressed heavily down on Yi-hyeon.
***
Shifting his uncomfortable body from side to side, Yi-hyeon turned his stiff, aching head the other way. He’d been worried because Han Jun hadn’t come back for a long time, and while waiting, he’d rested his head briefly on the table—he must have dozed off without realizing it.
They say dogs, unlike humans, divide a day into forty-eight hours. Because of that, their sleep patterns are different from humans’. Maybe that was why Yi-hyeon often fell asleep suddenly, like blacking out, just like now.
Lifting his heavy eyelids, Yi-hyeon tried to raise his languid body—and in that moment, he came face-to-face with Han Jun, who was lying there with his arm under his head in the exact same position, facing him.
Startled enough to almost scream, Yi-hyeon reacted on instinct, quickly clamping a hand over his mouth and straightening his back stiffly.
M-my heart almost fell out!
Forcing himself to calm his wildly pounding chest, Yi-hyeon let his gaze drift once more to Han Jun’s peacefully sleeping face.
Each time he breathed, a peach juice scent drifted from his faint breath. The eyelashes densely lining his gently closed lids were unbelievably long, casting a surprisingly deep shadow beneath them.
Is he… asleep?
When Han Jun didn’t open his eyes even after three minutes passed on the phone clock, Yi-hyeon seemed to gain a little courage and slowly leaned his body, which he’d kept at a distance.
Then, mirroring him, he lay down with his arm under his head and moved a little closer to Han Jun’s face.
I think… I like you more than I thought, Jun.
