Just looking at his face made Yi-hyeon’s heart pound as if it might burst, his skin flushing hot. As he silently confessed feelings he would never be able to voice aloud, Han Jun’s fragile breath brushed against Yi-hyeon’s lips.
Startled, Yi-hyeon flinched, then slowly lifted his hand when he saw that Han Jun still hadn’t woken. Tracing his own lips—where the warmth hadn’t yet faded—with his fingertips, he gently closed his eyes.
Once again, Han Jun’s warm breath touched his lips, as if it were a kiss that lingered and then pulled away.
He liked the feeling.
A real kiss would feel even better than this, right……? If it’s with someone you like, how could it possibly be bad?
The question and answer he murmured to himself ended with a single thought: I want to try it.
Because it was a wish that would never come true, he kept his eyes closed and imagined kissing Han Jun. Picturing those full, soft lips wrapping around his own, a faint smile formed on his face without him realizing it. Then, telling himself it was nothing more than a foolish fantasy and that he should return to reality, he opened his eyes and found black eyes right in front of him, holding his face.
Yi-hyeon shrieked in shock.
“Eek!”
“Did you do something wrong? Why are you so startled?”
Still lying down, Han Jun blinked as he spoke. Yi-hyeon clutched at his chest, which felt like it was about to explode, and let out a long breath.
“You—you were having a dirty dream, weren’t you?”
“Huh? What are you talking about—no!”
“Then what kind of dream makes you smile in your sleep?”
“I was smiling?”
“Your mouth was twitching too. Were you maybe kissing someone you like in your dream or—”
“No! Not at all!”
Yi-hyeon’s voice boomed through the wide room.
“Jesus, you scared me.”
Han Jun frowned, covering his ears with both hands.
***
It felt like his thoughts had been exposed, and sitting in the same space as Han Jun became unbearably uncomfortable. Yi-hyeon kept touching his face, which was burning with embarrassment, and the moment it turned nine—the time he’d promised to leave—he sprang to his feet.
“I should go now.”
“Are you a carriage or something? Do you turn into a pumpkin the second it hits nine?”
Han Jun grabbed the strap of Yi-hyeon’s bag just as he was about to sling it over his shoulder and looked up at him as he stood there.
“Not like that, but—”
“Then eat before you go.”
Even as Yi-hyeon refused, saying he wasn’t hungry, Han Jun tossed his bag far away, sprang up, and dragged him down to the kitchen.
Perhaps because no one else was home, there was nothing on the dining table except a carefully arranged bouquet of flowers at the center. Don’t tell me he’s actually going to cook? Yi-hyeon glanced at Han Jun, who rolled up his sleeves and walked over to the wide, L-shaped sink.
“Pasta okay?”
Yi-hyeon nodded, though inside he wondered if Han Jun was really planning to cook himself. In the month they’d spent together, he’d never once seen Han Jun cook. Sure enough, Han Jun started fumbling almost immediately.
“No, that knife—hey, hey, you’ll hurt yourself.”
His knife work was so clumsy that Yi-hyeon, sitting on a dining chair, kept lifting his butt nervously. When he finally stood up to take the knife from Han Jun’s hand, Han Jun pushed him back with his broad shoulder.
“It’s fine. Sit down.”
“You look like you’re going to get hurt.”
“What are you talking about? I’m totally experienced.”
“……Experienced where?”
“I’m serious. I’m really good at cooking.”
Seeing Han Jun keep talking to him while holding the knife, Yi-hyeon grew so worried that he clamped his mouth shut. For a while, he had no choice but to stand quietly behind him and watch Han Jun, drenched in sweat, struggle to make pasta.
Claiming to be experienced, yet clearly finding it difficult, Han Jun kept muttering “Ah, damn it,” over and over as he dumped pasta into the boiling water—again and again.
How many servings is that……? Is he planning to bring it to school for lunch on Monday?
There was enough pasta in the pot to throw a pasta party for Yi-hyeon’s entire class.
Glancing sideways at his phone, Han Jun then managed to drop the perfectly stable pot with a loud crash. Yi-hyeon quickly stretched out his arm to help, but Han Jun shot him a sharp look and pointed at the chair with his eyes, telling him not to move and to sit still.
With no choice, Yi-hyeon returned to the table and sat back down, but his heart remained uneasy.
Before Yi-hyeon’s anxiety could simmer down into something utterly overcooked, Han Jun set a plate of fairly presentable cream pasta in front of him and flashed a grin.
“It’s done.”
Glancing at the extravagant clock on the wall, Yi-hyeon realized the pasta had taken a full hour and a half to make. Lowering his gaze from the clock back to the plate, he stared at the pasta noodles—each tip blackened like burnt matches—and responded mechanically.
“Wow, it really looks like something you’d buy. I didn’t know you could cook.”
At Yi-hyeon’s squeezed-out praise—implying that being good at studying and cooking was practically unfair—Han Jun waved it off, though he couldn’t stop the corners of his mouth from twitching upward.
“It’s just pasta. That barely counts as cooking.”
Despite his words, pride seeped into Han Jun’s expression. He clearly seemed very satisfied with the dish he’d made.
“I just made it the way I usually do, but I drank a lot of sweet drinks before cooking, so I don’t know if the seasoning’s right.”
Han Jun sat across from him, chin propped on his hand, watching and waiting for Yi-hyeon to pick up his fork. There was no plate in front of him.
“What about yours?”
“Oh, I ate all the leftover mango and drinks while you were sleeping earlier, so I’m not hungry.”
“You eat surprisingly little.”
“I don’t really like food that much.”
“You still need to eat properly. That’s how you stay healthy. I mean, you already look healthier than necessary, but still—you need balanced nutrition so you don’t suffer when you’re old.”
“What are you, my mom?”
“That’s what the Director always says to me.”
As Yi-hyeon picked up his fork, saying he’d eat well, Han Jun looked at him fondly and spoke again.
“Anyone can make pasta, you know.”
“Huh?”
“I mean, it’s not like making pasta is some huge, incredible thing.”
Listening to Han Jun’s inexplicable comment, Yi-hyeon twirled some cream pasta around his fork and popped it into his mouth. Before he’d even started chewing, Han Jun’s eyes lit up and he reflexively asked how it tasted.
How was it……? It was the worst.
The ends of the noodles were burnt black, the sauce was overwhelmingly salty, and despite what must have been good ingredients, there was an unidentifiable gamey smell. What on earth had Han Jun done to bacon that would’ve been delicious on its own? Surely he hadn’t rinsed it in water, right?
Yi-hyeon lifted his head and looked at Han Jun, who was waiting eagerly for a verdict. The moment he saw those black, sparkling eyes swollen with anticipation, Yi-hyeon couldn’t bring himself to tell the truth.
“It’s really good. It’s the best pasta I’ve ever had.”
To be honest, he couldn’t say he’d eaten a lot of pasta in his nineteen years, but even mass-produced convenience store pasta tasted better than this.
Still, seeing Han Jun smile with a confident I knew it expression after hearing that, Yi-hyeon thought lying had been the right choice. And he felt relieved that Han Jun was full today. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have gotten to see that face brimming with pride.
So that no one else would ever have to taste and judge Han Jun’s pasta, Yi-hyeon cleaned the plate spotless. Watching that, Han Jun became even more convinced that his cooking was delicious, his shoulders unconsciously squaring with pride.
Rubbing his bloated stomach that felt like it might burst, Yi-hyeon finally managed to squeeze out a voice.
“Ah, I’m so full. What if I fall asleep on the bus because of a food coma?”
Needing to catch the bus before it got any later, Yi-hyeon hurried upstairs. He picked up his bag, which Han Jun had tossed into the space beside the bed. As he did, a voice full of regret came from behind him.
“Can’t you stay a little longer?”
Omg cute
Not him pretending it’s really good so Jun won’t be sad shut up 😭😭💕💕