“Yeah, that’s right. I heard he was about to age out of the system? Supposedly, there wasn’t much time left. Seems like that’s why he’d been so down lately.”
“Tsk… Poor kid. So young, and without parents… what a shame.”
A few sympathetic tsk-tsks and the clicking of tongues followed.
Go Hoon sat and listened quietly, then stood up and walked out of the funeral hall.
Not even two weeks later, he decided to enlist in the military. It was the only way to calm the restless storm inside him.
It wasn’t like he and Lee Hyun-soo had been especially close, but for some reason, he couldn’t get the kid off his mind. Not that it mattered now—Hyun-soo was already gone, and the regret had come far too late.
Still, he thought it was a decent choice. If he pushed his body hard enough, the intrusive thoughts would stop. And at least while serving, he wouldn’t have to worry about getting by. The military gave you food, a place to sleep, and even if it wasn’t much, they paid you regularly.
The day before enlistment, Hoon drank alone at a small gukbap restaurant near campus. He poured two bottles of soju down his throat along with a steaming bowl of sundae-gukbap, then brushed himself off and stood.
That would be it. He’d bury every last thought of the kid right there.
And for a while, it worked. The grueling pace of boot camp left no room for grief. Wake up at the same time every day, power through hellish training, pass out from exhaustion.
Even after getting assigned to his unit, things didn’t change much. There wasn’t a second to let his guard down. After months of being driven into the ground, time dulled the edges of his emotions like everyone said it would.
Once you slap the label “the past” on something, it all starts to fade—pain, joy, even guilt. And just like that, Lee Hyun-soo slowly disappeared from Hoon’s thoughts.
Or so he believed. But now, hearing the kid’s name again and feeling that familiar heaviness in his chest… clearly, he hadn’t forgotten him completely.
“There’s just one thing I keep wondering… What was it that Hyun-soo wanted to say when he called me that day?”
“Hyung, it’s been a while. How’ve you been?”
What was hiding behind those simple words? What kind of emotions had he tucked away?
And if… if only he hadn’t brushed off that call like it was nothing—would anything have changed?
Hoon understood the fear Hyun-soo must have felt. That growing pressure as his discharge date from the system neared. Even if the current welfare system was better than it used to be, the weight of self-reliance was enormous.
Facing a cold and indifferent world with no one to lean on… it must’ve felt suffocating. Hoon knew that feeling. He’d been there too.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
A voice soaked in alcohol broke through his thoughts. Hoon looked up at Kim Jong-seong sitting across from him.
“You know that, right? This wasn’t anyone’s fault.”
His voice was low and bitter as he exhaled, staring off into space. Hoon gave a small, weary laugh.
“…Yeah. I know.”
Of course he knew. That’s why he was still clinging on, still pushing forward.
Hoon mumbled and raised his soju glass. Their eyes met. Both let out soft, tired chuckles and clinked their glasses with a crisp chink.
By the time they stood up, six empty soju bottles were lined neatly on the table.
“Boss, I’ll pay with this card. Quick, before he argues.”
“Ah, hyung. I told you, I’ve got this.”
“Hey, no. Move. I’m the older one here. What kind of hyung lets his dongsaeng treat him all the time? Huh?”
As they bickered in front of the register, the owner burst into a hearty laugh, watching them with amusement. He joked that they always seemed like a great pair. Then, taking Jong-seong’s card, he added, “When your hyung offers to pay, just say thank you and let him. That’s what a real younger brother does.”
Losing the battle, Hoon scratched his cheek sheepishly and stepped outside the restaurant.
“Thanks for the meal, hyung.”
“Yeah, punk. Get home safe.”
“You too. See you around.”
They exchanged casual goodbyes, and Hoon turned away. He’d only taken a few steps when—
“Go Hoon!”
He turned at the call. Jong-seong tossed something at him. Instinctively, Hoon caught it. Opening his fist, he found a key in his palm. He looked at him, puzzled. Jong-seong smiled wide.
“Come by whenever you want. Get a good sweat in.”
Ah, the gym key.
“Later!”
Jong-seong waved big and turned away. Hoon stood still for a while, quietly watching his figure shrink in the distance. Then he slipped the key into his pocket.
Walking alone through the night, thoughts of Lee Hyun-soo came flooding back again.
After the funeral, the kid was moved to a columbarium. Hoon kept telling himself he should visit someday—but deep down, he was afraid. If he stood before Hyun-soo, what could he even say?
He shook off the creeping thoughts.
Still, his steps toward the officetel felt lighter than before. It was the first time he’d ever voiced those buried feelings out loud to someone. Just talking—even aimlessly—had lightened the weight in his chest. It wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
***
Go Hoon took back what he’d just been thinking.
He looked up at the officetel looming before him. The moment he drew near, a tightness began to build in his chest, until finally, his feet came to a halt.
It was clearly a far better place than his own tiny apartment—nicer, cleaner, more comfortable. And yet, for some reason, he suddenly missed the cramped, musty smell of his old monthly rental.
I wonder if Bae Jung-yoon’s home.
Tonight’s drinking had been unplanned, and now he was coming back later than expected. Only now did it occur to him that maybe he should’ve told Jung-yoon where he was going.
Then again—why should he? It’s not like he was some watchdog guarding the place. He was free to come and go as he pleased.
And if we’re keeping track, Jung-yoon was the one who went out first without saying anything. So really, there was no reason to feel guilty. With that thought firmly in place, Hoon resumed walking with newfound purpose.
He punched in the door lock code and stepped inside—only to immediately come face-to-face with Bae Jung-yoon, standing right in front of the inner door.
So he was home after all?
There hadn’t been a single message, so Hoon hadn’t expected to see him. Caught off guard, he froze for a second like someone caught doing something wrong, then quickly schooled his expression and slipped off his shoes.
“When’d you get back? Thought you’d be later.”
Jung-yoon didn’t respond. He simply looked at him, silently, with pitch-black eyes and the faintest smile on his lips.
He didn’t exactly look happy—but Hoon chose not to pay it any mind. He moved to walk past him, but Jung-yoon’s voice came out cool and flat, cutting straight into his ears.
“You drank, didn’t you?”
Hoon’s steps halted.
Just in case, he’d gotten off the bus a stop early and walked the rest of the way, hoping the fresh air would carry the smell off him. Apparently, it hadn’t worked.
Damn bloodhound. This guy’s nose must be just as sharp as the Factory Manager’s.
That thought had barely passed when an unpleasant memory flashed in his mind—one night when he’d gotten tipsy and teased Jung-yoon, and the fallout that followed.
Don’t tell me he’s gonna flip out again just because I had a drink. It’s not like I was planning to mess with him tonight anyway.
A prickling tension crawled up his back, making him stiffen, but Hoon played it cool.
“Yeah, I had a few.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
The reply came so quickly that Hoon nearly laughed. The way he said it—it was as if Hoon needed his permission to drink at all.
“Why would I need to tell you that? It’s not like I was asking for permission.”
“Maybe try thinking about what it’s like for me, sleeping next to someone who reeks of alcohol.”
Oh, is that so? Then what about me? Ever thought about what it’s like for me, waking up half-clothed with your naked body wrapped around mine like I’m some hairy pet? And what the hell were you doing with Choi Joo-won in the middle of the day?
The words hovered at the edge of his lips, ready to spill out—but Hoon clenched his teeth and swallowed them whole.
His gaze landed on the back of Jung-yoon’s neck. Not a single mark. Clean.
No visible signs, but who knows? Just because the outside was spotless didn’t mean the inside wasn’t bruised.
Like someone desperate for evidence, Hoon’s eyes darted, searching, then finally settled back on Jung-yoon’s face. He suddenly felt ridiculous.
Don’t be emotional. If you bring up Choi Joo-won like this, it’ll only turn into a fight.
As he tried to collect his thoughts, Jung-yoon spoke first.
“Were you drinking alone?”
The question hit a nerve. A strange, petty kind of pride stirred inside him.
Is that how I look to him? Some lonely loser? Sure, he didn’t have a big social circle and yeah, he drank alone sometimes—but to have Jung-yoon assume it so casually still stung.
“No. Met up with a hyung I know.”
Hoon met his gaze squarely. But Jung-yoon’s face gave nothing away. What was going on behind that calm exterior? He tried to guess, but it was impossible. Jung-yoon never acted in any way that was easy to read.
“So, I guess you already had dinner too.”
Only then did Hoon notice the smell of food hanging faintly in the air. He turned his head—and froze again.
On the dining table, a full meal was waiting: cream pasta and steak.
Looked like Jung-yoon had been waiting to eat together.
“…You should’ve said something.”
The words slipped from his mouth in a low murmur.
Why didn’t you tell me you were waiting? If you had, I wouldn’t have kept you waiting like this.
He’d been glancing at his phone the whole time while drinking, half-hoping Jung-yoon would message him. He would’ve left right away if he had.
But this—sitting here alone, waiting without a word—he hadn’t seen it coming. Guilt quietly rose up in his chest. Whether he noticed or not, Jung-yoon answered as if nothing were wrong.
“I wanted to surprise you.”
Hoon had no words for that.
Why does this guy keep messing with my emotions like this?
The frustration that had been building inside him slowly began to melt away.
“Well, guess I’ll have to eat alone, then.”
As if knowing Hoon wouldn’t be able to handle that, Jung-yoon drove the point home. And in the end, Hoon gave in with a small sigh.
“Just… eat with me.”
“Didn’t you already stuff yourself?”
“…No. I’ll just eat a little.”
His stomach was about to burst, but he lied.
He’d made him wait, and now he was supposed to let him eat alone too? No way.
He hadn’t wanted to eat, but now that he was trying, even the pasta refused to go down.
Who knew how long it had been sitting there? The food had gone cold. But no one said anything. Jung-yoon silently picked at the meal he’d prepared, eating slowly.
This just makes me feel even worse.
Hoon couldn’t lift his head. He scraped at the bottom of his dish with his fork.
Even while he picked at his food uncharacteristically, Jung-yoon kept eating with clean, efficient motions. Hoon watched him from across the table and finally spoke, cautiously.
“I saw you today.”
Jung-yoon’s chopsticks froze in midair.
After a short silence, Hoon continued, his voice steady.
“You were with Choi Joo-won.”
