The car glided smoothly, and the interior was quiet. Inho drove silently for about ten minutes, lost in thought. He needed a moment to organize his thoughts before speaking. His lack of sleep made it difficult for him to think clearly.
“If you’re sleepy, take a nap,” Inho said, glancing briefly at Haon’s expression. Haon’s eyes were half-closed as he gazed blankly out the window.
“I’ll wake you when we arrive,” Inho added, thinking that even a short ten-minute nap might help Haon feel more comfortable. However, Haon seemed unwilling to sleep and kept his eyes open.
“If I don’t wear it… will you really throw it away?” Haon asked.
Inho suppressed a sigh, trying to understand Haon’s perspective, which seemed so different from his own.
“I’d like you to wear it,” Inho replied.
“I… I don’t need such expensive clothes. I have nowhere to wear them,” Haon admitted, perhaps emboldened by his drowsiness. Inho listened carefully to Haon’s slow, honest words.
“You can wear them when you’re with me. We planned to go to the aquarium, remember?” Inho suggested, hoping to lift Haon’s spirits. However, the attempt seemed to have the opposite effect, making Haon’s mood even heavier.
Although Haon didn’t show it outwardly, Inho sensed the subtle shift in his demeanor. He scratched his forehead, wondering where he had gone wrong this time, but no answers came to mind.
“I know it’s a lot of money to you, but it’s not to me,” Inho explained carefully. “So, it makes sense for me to spend my money as I please. I enjoy buying clothes and giving gifts.” He exaggerated a bit, then pressed the accelerator as the traffic light changed. The road was clear since it wasn’t rush hour, but Inho felt an inexplicable tension.
“Do you give such gifts to everyone?” Haon asked. Inho sensed this was a crucial question and paused before answering.
“Yes, I do this for everyone,” Inho replied, his hesitation brief.
***
Haon and Inho divided the bags between them, though all the items were for Haon. Inho helped carry the bags as a gesture of support.
“When do you think we can eat?” Inho asked, looking at Haon as the elevator quickly ascended. Inho held a large shopping bag containing a winter coat, while Haon insisted on carrying the rest.
Haon’s casual remark had cost him everything.
“I’ll be able to eat in a week,” Haon said, though he knew he could manage some food in five days. For some reason, he felt his appetite might take even longer to return this time.
“So, you’ll just keep drinking liquids until then?” Inho asked.
“Yes, I’m used to it. It’s fine,” Haon replied, immediately regretting his thoughtless use of the word “fine.” He had promised himself to avoid that phrase in front of Inho.
“Let me know whenever you feel like you can eat. Even if it’s in the middle of the night,” Inho offered.
Haon nodded, avoiding Inho’s gaze. Fortunately, the elevator doors opened, allowing him to quickly walk towards the front door, hastened by the weight of the heavy shopping bags.
“Take the day off and rest,” Inho said to Haon, who had just returned from putting the shopping bags in his room. Inho, having retrieved his phone from upstairs, headed into the first-floor dressing room.
Haon stood quietly by his bedroom door, waiting for Inho to emerge. Soon, Inho came out with a large shopping bag Haon hadn’t seen before, presumably filled with more clothes.
“Get some sleep early. There won’t be much to do since the cleaner will have been here,” Inho said.
“Are you going out…?” Haon asked, noticing that Inho was still wearing his coat and holding his car keys.
“I’ll be back soon. Just relax and rest,” Inho replied with his usual smile. He waited a moment, expecting Haon to say more, but when Haon remained silent, he turned to leave.
“Thank you for the clothes,” Haon called out, stepping into the living room. Inho turned back, his expression softening further as Haon bowed slightly.
“Thank you for accepting them,” Inho replied, his smile widening. With a final wave, he left the house.
Haon wondered where Inho was going. Left alone, he returned to his room, suspecting he knew who Inho might be meeting.
Sinking onto his bed, Haon rubbed his heavy eyelids. He was tired but didn’t want to sleep until Inho returned. The silence felt oppressive, so he turned on the TV. The house seemed even larger and quieter with Inho gone.
Snuggling under the covers, Haon flipped through the channels, occasionally glancing at the neatly arranged shopping bags on the floor. He didn’t have the energy to unpack them, deciding to leave it for tomorrow. As he lay in bed, his body felt even heavier with fatigue.
Haon watched the lively celebrities on TV with envy, feeling inadequate compared to their vibrant energy. Having spent his entire life in a quiet rural village, the fast-paced life and people of Seoul seemed both fascinating and overwhelming. He felt like he was stuck alone in a stagnant well, while the world moved on without him.
Suddenly, he turned off the TV, unable to bear the contrast between the glamorous figures on the screen and his own reality. He couldn’t help but think of the man who owned the clothes he was now wearing—a man far more handsome and radiant than Haon had imagined. The clothes, the spacious bedroom, and the luxurious house all seemed to belong more naturally to that man than to Haon, who felt like an intruder.
Haon’s sigh deepened as he contemplated how out of place he must appear to others. Just then, a loud vibration startled him. It was his new phone, the vibration stronger and clearer than his old one.
“Hello?” Haon answered, fumbling with the unfamiliar large screen. In his haste, he hadn’t checked who was calling.
“Are you busy?” a deep voice asked from the other end of the line. Haon immediately recognized it as Seong-gu, his hyung.
“No, I’m not busy at all,” Haon replied quickly, relieved to hear Seong-gu’s steady voice.
“You should call sometimes. It rained a lot, and you didn’t even check if I was okay?” Seong-gu asked, a hint of disappointment in his voice.
“I’m sorry, I meant to call but I forgot,” Haon admitted, his apology sincere. Seong-gu didn’t scold him further, but Haon could sense his hurt.
“I was waiting for your call, but I ended up calling first again. Next time, you call me,” Seong-gu said.
“Okay, I will. Thank you for calling first,” Haon promised.
“So, is everything alright?” Seong-gu asked.
Haon, sitting on the soft bed, glanced around the spacious room and hesitated. There was so much he hadn’t told Seong-gu—about his omega manifestation, his strange heat symptoms, and the kind, handsome man who had helped him. He had planned to confess everything when he returned to the countryside after fulfilling his three-year promise.
“Haon?” Seong-gu’s voice brought him back to the present.
“I’m listening,” Haon replied, clutching the phone tightly. He pulled the blanket around him, feeling both physically and emotionally drained. Hearing Seong-gu’s voice made him want to pour out all the emotions he had been holding back.
Haon had always wanted to talk to Seong-gu only when he was in his best mood, but this often led to missed opportunities to call.
“I just… don’t feel great,” Haon finally admitted, his voice trembling as he fought back tears. Seong-gu patiently waited through the long silence, then calmly continued his questions.
“Is there a reason?” Seong-gu asked.
Haon knew there was a reason, but he tried to avoid examining his feelings too closely. He was used to burying his emotions until they faded, much like how he endured the difficult life in Seoul while waiting for the memories of his grandmother to dim.
“Think about why you feel this way and tell me. I’ll help you with anything,” Seong-gu reassured him, knowing Haon had always been slow to express himself.
Even as a child, Haon had been late to learn Hangul and always hesitated to ask for what he wanted, often putting others’ feelings before his own. Despite the love from the villagers and his grandmother, Haon’s timid nature never changed.
Seong-gu had always worried about Haon’s lack of ambition, fearing that he might follow his departed family members too soon, leaving this world without ever truly living.
“I…” Haon began, his voice catching as he rested his chin on the blanket. He hated feeling miserable in such a fortunate situation. “The person I like… doesn’t like me back,” he confessed.
Haon feared that his desires might bring him misfortune. Everyone he had ever cared for had left him too soon.
“I think… they just feel sorry for me,” Haon admitted, his emotions too overwhelming to suppress any longer.
