“Why else would I come? I was worried. You’re not even fully recovered yet.”
It wasn’t like he’d gone far—and besides, this was still Jung-yoon’s neighborhood. From the moment he stepped out of the officetel, it was a flat ten-minute walk on foot.
Honestly, wasn’t this just overkill? He wasn’t some kid who needed adult supervision to leave the house.
“I tried acting all pitiful, but you still wouldn’t let me come, so I had no other choice, Hoon.”
Back when they were on the phone, he’d said it in that sad tone of his—Hoon had ignored him. He figured the guy would just find someone else to eat with. How was he supposed to know he’d go behind his back, call Yoon Seong-gon, and show up like this?
What was he even supposed to do with Bae Jung-yoon, who kept a straight face even under Hoon’s dumbfounded stare? As Hoon hesitated, Jung-yoon looked straight at him with a faint smile.
Being on the receiving end of that quiet, concentrated gaze sent a strange wave of discomfort crawling up Hoon’s spine.
“Why are you staring?”
He snapped with a sharp tone. At the same time, Jung-yoon suddenly reached out. Pale fingers brushed against his bangs.
“You got a haircut.”
The words came out soft and lazy as he gently played with the trimmed ends. After a slow blink, Jung-yoon’s gaze met his squarely.
“You went to the salon?”
Only then did Hoon realize that, of course, he must look different from when Jung-yoon last saw him—before the workout.
“Yeah. Just felt kinda messy, that’s all.”
The admission made him feel oddly self-conscious, and he leaned his head back slightly. To make matters worse, he messed up the carefully blow-dried style for no real reason. Even as he did, Jung-yoon’s gaze remained fixed on his face.
“Looks really good.”
“Does it? I didn’t even ask for a blow-dry, but the stylist just did it on their own.”
The compliment flustered him so much that he blurted out something unnecessary. Sitting face-to-face like this felt too awkward. Out of habit, he looked away.
“Where the hell is that guy, anyway? Said he was going to the bathroom.”
Muttering at no one in particular, Hoon pulled out his phone and checked the blank notification screen again and again.
Still, his cheeks kept tingling. He glanced sideways—and immediately locked eyes with those shiny, unrelenting ones.
He couldn’t take that stare any longer. He had to shake it off somehow. Fast.
“Quit staring. You’re gonna wear my face out.”
***
As soon as Yoon Seong-gon came back from the bathroom and sat down, he went straight to ordering food. When Jung-yoon told him to get whatever he wanted, he glanced around nervously before shouting for five servings of pork ribs and three bowls of rice. Then, eyes gleaming, he looked over at Jung-yoon.
“Hyung, aren’t you going to have a drink?”
“What drink? Just eat the meat.”
Go Hoon, who had been listening silently, cut in, and Seong-gon immediately pouted. Jung-yoon, watching the whole exchange, let out a soft laugh and offered a compromise.
“Then how about just one glass each? Just a little.”
“Sounds great!”
Before Hoon could even object, Seong-gon cheerfully shouted for a bottle of beer.
Hoon shot a quick glance at Bae Jung-yoon. Maybe it was because of what he’d heard before, but something about it nagged at him.
Was he drinking just to match someone else’s mood? Forcing himself to go along?
Sure, Jung-yoon had said he liked alcohol, but hadn’t he also mentioned he didn’t drink much for health reasons? Come to think of it, maybe his liver wasn’t in great shape—he just hadn’t spelled it out.
Well, even if Hoon was worried, there wasn’t much he could do. If the guy wanted to drink, he would drink.
Still, it was disappointing. Meat was meant to be eaten with alcohol. But since he was still technically a patient, drinking was off the table. Left with no choice, he just sipped on the overly sweet cola that Jung-yoon had ordered for him.
When the food arrived, it was Seong-gon—the youngest by default—who grabbed the tongs first.
But from the start, he didn’t exactly inspire confidence with his grilling. And sure enough, the moment he looked away, he ended up charring a piece of meat until it was pitch black. You could’ve called it a lump of coal and no one would have argued. It was so bad, Hoon even suspected the guy might’ve done it on purpose just to get out of grilling duty.
After getting thoroughly chewed out by Hoon, Seong-gon was immediately relieved of his tongs. They naturally ended up in Bae Jung-yoon’s hands.
It wasn’t ideal to have the person paying for the meal also stuck with the grilling, but what could they do? Hoon wasn’t in any condition to help. And anyway, no one told Jung-yoon to go out of his way to come all the way here.
Luckily, Jung-yoon turned out to be great at grilling. So good it made Hoon wonder if he’d been professionally trained or something. He cooked the meat perfectly—juicy, tender, just the right amount of char. Then he placed a piece each onto Hoon and Seong-gon’s plates.
“Here. It’s ready.”
“Thanks for the food!”
As soon as Jung-yoon spoke, Seong-gon dove in with a huge grin. He went through everything—lettuce wraps, perilla leaves, doenjang stew, and even the japchae side dish. He cleaned house.
He even started picking up two pieces of meat at a time. If it were just the two of them, Hoon wouldn’t have cared, but with Jung-yoon there, he had to call him out.
“Hey, you little brat, are you eating alone? One piece at a time, damn it.”
“Ugh, don’t nag me over food. Seriously. I’m at that age where I’m always starving.”
“A guy who’s already done growing—what are you even talking about?”
“They say men keep growing in the army.”
“Oh, so that’s why you’ve been dragging your feet and acting all smug about not enlisting?”
“Why are you twisting my words again, hyung…”
As the two squabbled, Bae Jung-yoon let out a quiet chuckle.
Even while busy grilling the meat, Jung-yoon kept reaching over to pile side dishes onto Hoon’s bowl of rice. Each time, Hoon would mutter a soft thank-you and awkwardly eat with his left hand. Watching quietly, Yoon Seong-gon curled his lips and spoke up.
“Wow. Jung-yoon hyung is totally like your dad. Seriously, like a dad.”
Hoon didn’t answer. He just glared at him. Then he silently mouthed a curse and Seong-gon burst out laughing, totally unfazed.
By the time their chopsticks began to slow down and their stomachs started to feel full, the atmosphere had grown comfortably relaxed.
Hoon looked across the table at Seong-gon, whose face was now completely flushed. Meanwhile, Bae Jung-yoon, seated beside him, looked perfectly fine. Clearly, Seong-gon was the only one who’d been drinking heavily. As Hoon thought that, Jung-yoon’s gentle voice chimed in.
“So when did you and Hoon first meet?”
Since Go Hoon was their shared connection, the conversation naturally drifted toward how they’d become close.
“Hmm… when was it? Oh! When I was eighteen. I worked part-time during summer break at my dad’s gas station, and that’s when we met.”
With a bit of alcohol in him, the usually talkative Seong-gon became even more chatty. There wasn’t anything secretive about their first meeting, so Hoon just quietly kept eating his meat.
“So you helped out your dad? That’s sweet.”
“Ha! More like… I was being exploited.”
“Exploited, my ass. You got paid. You worked a proper job.”
Hoon immediately corrected him. Seong-gon gave him a mock glare, eyes wide with exaggerated offense.
“Come on! What kind of dad works his son like a slave?”
“You were holed up at home all day every vacation. He was just trying to get you out of the house.”
Hoon stated it plainly, matter-of-fact. Seong-gon grumbled in protest, telling him to stay out of it. Watching the banter unfold, Bae Jung-yoon smiled as he cut in.
“Still, for just a short summer job, you two seem pretty close.”
“Well… yeah. We’re pretty tight.”
Funny how he was complaining about not getting along with Hoon just a few minutes ago, and now he was proudly owning it. Seong-gon took a swig of beer and added,
“Honestly, I owe this guy a lot. If I had to sum it up, I’d say I got caught in one thing back then and ended up being his lackey ever since.”
He grinned playfully and popped another piece of meat into his mouth.
Hoon gave him a disinterested look and took a sip of water. Since when did “lackeys” get to sit around laughing, stuffing their face with free meat?
“But hyung, what were you like in high school?”
Seong-gon abruptly turned to Jung-yoon with a curious look.
“Me?”
“Yup. I bet you were totally straight-laced from a young age. You were a model student, weren’t you?”
“Model student, my ass.”
The words slipped out of Hoon’s mouth before he realized it. Instantly, both pairs of eyes were on him. Only then did he realize he’d said it out loud.
Seong-gon gave him a ‘What the hell’s your problem?’ look, while Jung-yoon just smiled faintly.
“Come on, look at him. Doesn’t he totally give off student council president vibes? I swear, he looks like the kind of guy who’d run the whole school.”
Right… Hoon bit back a snide comment on the tip of his tongue and instead stacked two pieces of meat on a lettuce leaf and made a giant wrap.
“Stop talking nonsense and just eat.”
Then he shoved the wrap into Seong-gon’s mouth.
“Mmah, I’mma eatin’, ‘kay…”
Even while chewing, Seong-gon mumbled out his complaint with a mouthful. As the two bickered, the person at the center of it all just sat there, smiling faintly without saying a word.
Time passed. Eventually, Bae Jung-yoon glanced at his phone, then stood from his seat.
“Gonna step out and take a call.”
“Okay! Take your time!”
Seong-gon replied respectfully. When Jung-yoon’s eyes met Hoon’s, Hoon gave him a small nod. He’d caught a glimpse of the screen just before—he was pretty sure it had said Kang Soo-yeon.
Hoon’s gaze followed Jung-yoon’s tall figure as he walked away. He watched his back disappear through the restaurant doors and out of sight.
So they’re not dating, huh? Or was it, not dating yet? Technically, that wasn’t a lie.
At that thought, an odd sense of guilt crept into Hoon’s chest. A quiet groan bubbled up in his throat.
You’ve already got someone you’re seeing—so why are you acting like this?
Why did he feel like he was the one cheating? That night hadn’t even been something he wanted. It wasn’t like he’d asked for it—it was forced on him.
…The real problem was, afterwards, he wanted it. A lot.
