Saturday morning. As soon as Inho opened his eyes, he got on the treadmill. He usually enjoyed working out in the morning, but it was rare for him to start running the moment he woke up like today.
After drenching his entire body in sweat, he took a cold shower. He liked to run until it felt like his lungs might burst, then shower in water so cold it made his skin sting.
Bzzzt—.
Just as Inho stepped out of the shower, his phone rang with perfect timing. He picked up the phone from the bed, checked the caller ID, and answered.
— I called last night. I couldn’t answer earlier, I was in surgery.
Saved as ‘Hyo-jeong Noona,’ she had known Inho since they were children. Hyo-jeong was an obstetrician-gynecologist working at the largest hospital in Seoul—the same hospital where her father served as director.
“Noona.”
Even though there was no chance of the sound leaking downstairs, Inho shut the bedroom door just in case, then dropped heavily onto the chair by the window. He propped one leg at a time onto the stool and took his time, prompting the sound of heels clicking—ttokak ttokak—from Hyo-jeong, who urged him to hurry up and speak. She seemed to already be out and about on this weekend morning.
“After the heat cycle ends, is it normal not to be able to eat? Not just for a day, but for several days.”
— What?
Caught off guard by the abrupt question, Hyo-jeong asked him to repeat it. Without changing a single word, Inho repeated what he’d said.
—Why? Is it that they want to eat but just can’t?
“Does that happen a lot?”
— Maybe they just don’t want to eat with you.
It was a reasonable point, but Inho shook his head—he had seen the vomiting himself.
“That’s not it.”
— You’re joking, right? What Omega on earth wouldn’t want to have a meal with you?
“It’s not a common symptom, right?”
Ignoring her teasing, Inho pressed for an actual answer to his question. Clicking her tongue, Hyojeong responded like she was used to this kind of inquiry.
— If their constitution is weak or they normally have a low appetite, skipping a day is possible. But if it lasts three or four days, they should get checked out.
She explained that Omega symptoms could vary widely depending on individual physiology, so a thorough examination was necessary.
“Do they even throw up things like porridge?”
— Throwing up porridge?
“They ate and then threw it up.”
From the other side of the phone, he heard the sound of a car engine starting. At the same time, her voice became slightly quieter, as if she’d switched to speakerphone.
— Who is it? Someone I know?
“Porridge should be fine, right?”
— Bring them to the hospital. I’ll take a look. But if they’re throwing up porridge too, don’t try to force-feed them.
“Yeah, I’ll bring them by sometime.”
Inho’s immediate response caught Hyo-jeong off guard—she was the one who brought it up, but now she sounded startled.
— You’re really gonna bring them? Who is it, that you’re taking them to the hospital? Are you seriously seeing someone? Are you dating?
Her voice grew louder, questions pouring out with a tone of curiosity. But Inho ended the call abruptly without even a goodbye, saying only that he’d let her know before coming. Hyo-jeong, clearly used to this sort of behavior, didn’t call or text to complain. Instead, she sent a follow-up message that was actually helpful.
[Thin rice porridge should be okay. While they can’t eat properly, tell them to quit alcohol, smoking, and coffee completely.]
[No meds either.]
“Obviously.”
Reading her message, Inho didn’t even bother replying with a thank you. Instead, he checked to see if there was any message from Haon, but his inbox was still empty.
He had left his phone by his pillow last night, waiting for Haon to contact him, but only pointless notifications had come through. Unlike usual, he hadn’t even switched to silent mode, so the constant vibrations only made it harder for him to sleep.
Still, maybe no news meant Haon wasn’t feeling too bad.
With a blank expression, Inho gazed out at the clear autumn sky, lazily slouched in his chair. Even after working out and showering early, it wasn’t yet past 9 a.m. Since it was the weekend, he figured Haon was probably still asleep, so he decided to kill some more time before heading downstairs. Haon had mentioned working at a bar on weekends, so it wasn’t likely he’d be leaving for work too early.
He should probably eat something before heading out, right? That thought made Inho furrow his brows as he picked up his phone again. His face turned serious as he searched online for how to make thin porridge.
“Looks easy enough.”
Skimming through a few simple recipes, he got up from his chair. It seemed better to make it in advance, leisurely. After all, he had nothing else to do anyway.
He switched his phone back to silent mode and headed down the stairs slowly, as if counting each step. Inho repeated the same thought that had been looping in his head since last night. At the center of it, as always, was Haon.
How could he get Haon to stay in this house?
That was the question that had occupied him the entire morning.
“Good morning.”
Lost in thought and staring at the floor as he walked, Inho lifted his head at the sound of a familiar voice. The corners of his lips reacted before he even made eye contact with Haon.
“Haon-ssi.”
Haon had just stepped out of his room. Perfect timing.
“How’s your stomach?”
“It’s fine. I feel totally normal now.”
Unlike Inho, who had already showered, Haon looked like he’d just woken up. His slightly puffy face and tousled hair made it clear he hadn’t been up for long. Inho felt concern—but also thought, deep down, that he wouldn’t mind seeing this side of Haon more often.
“Did you sleep well?”
“Yeah, I didn’t wake up even once.”
He really looked it. Good—he needed that rest. After closely observing Haon’s now-improved complexion, Inho was about to ask what time he had to leave for work—but Haon spoke up first.
“Do you happen to drink soy milk?”
Inho blinked slowly, tilting his head at the sudden and unexpected question. He wondered if maybe he just wasn’t fully awake yet—but answered anyway.
“I drink it sometimes.”
Truthfully, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had soy milk, but he said he did. Just in case Haon wanted some, he was already thinking about going out to buy it.
“Then just a moment.”
But instead of asking him to go get some, Haon quickly turned on his heel and rushed back into his room. Inho, having been told to wait, remained standing there without moving a muscle. Before long, he was handed a large box of soy milk as a gift.
“I didn’t really have anything else to give you…”
Haon rubbed the back of his neck, eyes flitting between the soy milk box and the floor. He looked embarrassed, fidgeting after handing over the gift.
Inho looked at him for a moment, then took the box of soy milk with both hands. One hand would’ve been more than enough—but he held it close to his chest deliberately, like it was something precious.
“Thank you. I’ll enjoy it.”
It was the cheapest and most unusual gift he’d ever received in his life. And yet, Inho’s expression as he held the soy milk box looked far happier than if he’d been given a car or a house.
***
For lunch, Haon ate a bowl of thin porridge that Inho had made himself. He hesitated for a moment when the man offered to give him another ride to work—but didn’t decline. Inho had said he liked helping others, so Haon decided to accept that kindness in moderation. He also kind of wanted to sit in that passenger seat again.
He’d planned to head out early before work to look for a new place to move into, but ended up napping instead, losing his chance to visit any real estate offices. He’d only meant to sit on the bed for a minute after warming his stomach with the porridge… but the next thing he knew, he’d dozed off. That bed was dangerously comfortable.
“What time do you get off?”
The man asked softly as he turned the steering wheel. The weather was bright and clear, and Haon, gazing out the window, replied that it would be pretty late.
“How late?”
“If it’s a quiet night, I’m done by 1 a.m., but if it’s busy, sometimes it’s 2:30.”
On average, he finished work around 2 a.m. Since the place was mainly a nighttime business, the hours Haon worked were always packed with customers.
“You work that late?”
The man narrowed his eyes slightly, listening closely to Haon’s gentle, slow-paced voice.
“Isn’t that too long? Do you get any breaks in between?”
“If there aren’t many customers or it’s quiet, I mostly just sit.”
“What about dinner?”
When they hit a red light, the man turned to face him, his expression suddenly serious again. He really seemed to care about meal schedules. Just like Seong-gu hyung.
“The owner cooks for us. We all eat together.”
During the slowest time of the evening, they would gather around one of the corner tables and have dinner as a group. There were six mouths to feed, but since the owner knew Haon ate very little, he always prepared only five servings.
“I won’t be able to eat today, though.”
The man looked genuinely dejected, as if someone had stolen his dinner. Meanwhile, the person who wasn’t actually going to eat—Haon—seemed completely unbothered.
“If it gets too hard, step outside for a bit. Call me, and I’ll come right away.”
Haon didn’t think that would actually happen, but he still said okay. Just hearing someone say they’d come for him the moment he called… it was nice. It felt strange, in a good way, that someone would say something like that to him.
“There it is—‘A Glass of Beer.’”
The man pointed to a bar sign with a beer mug on it and pulled the car over. It was still early in the day, so the area around the shopping complex filled with pubs was quiet.
“Thank you for the ride.”
As Haon unfastened his seatbelt and bowed his head slightly, something cold tapped lightly against his forehead. It was a pack of soy milk—the black bean one he’d given as a gift.
“You won’t be able to eat dinner, so drink this instead. Get through the night.”
The man had brought along a few packs of the soy milk to keep in the car, planning to drink them himself. Now, he handed one to Haon, giving it a little shake to urge him to take it.
“I’ll come pick you up when you finish.”
“No, you really don’t have to.”
Haon accepted the soy milk with both hands but firmly refused this time.
“Don’t worry about me. Go to sleep early.”
“I like driving. And I usually stay up late anyway.”
“Still, I mean…”
Haon’s voice dropped to a murmur, but the man just waved leisurely, telling him to take it easy at work. In the end, Haon couldn’t bring himself to reject him outright and got out of the car. The longer this situation continued, the more naturally he found himself going along with what the man said.
With the window rolled down, the man gave him one final wave before driving off. Haon stood there, unmoving, until the car disappeared from view.
The look on his face as he stared out at the now-empty street was quietly bitter.
“I need to… find a place. Fast.”
The more grateful and guilty he felt toward the man who kept adjusting everything for his sake, the more Haon felt he had to move out quickly. Before he got too used to all the kindness being given so freely.
If he didn’t hold himself together now, he knew—without a doubt—that he’d only want to lean on him more. Haon understood his own weak-willed heart all too well.
Even during the ride over, the thought had crossed his mind: ‘Maybe I could stay one more week.’
So shameless.
