Seo Jae-ha leaned his chin on Hae-hyun’s shoulder as he stepped closer. When he draped an arm over the other shoulder, he could feel the slight flinch, the way it dipped under his weight. With his tall, solid frame, Hae-hyun gave off the kind of steadiness that made it seem like he could walk for miles with someone clinging to him without the slightest strain. Still hanging on, Jae-ha murmured as they walked.
“Cook me something good when we get home. Your food’s so addictive, I’m getting hooked.”
“…It’s way too early for dinner.”
“I can still ask in advance, can’t I? Want to stop by the market together?”
“No. I already have plenty of ingredients at home.”
His reply was sharp, but his voice had already slipped back to its usual calm. His normally long, brisk strides were shorter and slower now. The subtle consideration was so clear Jae-ha almost laughed. Honest, straightforward, and—God, unbearably cute.
The moment they got back, Jae-ha changed into loungewear and flopped onto the bed. While Hae-hyun was rummaging through the fridge, he peeked his head through the bedroom door.
“Sunbae, are you going to nap?”
“No. Thought I’d watch a movie.”
Jae-ha had a habit of checking new releases whenever the thought struck him. Just a few days ago, he’d seen that a thriller he’d been waiting for had finally dropped on an OTT site. He’d only skimmed the synopsis, but it seemed promising. Propping his pillow against the headboard, he leaned back loosely. Hae-hyun, watching him, came closer.
“I’ll watch too.”
“Then turn off the lights and close the door.”
He must’ve gotten a taste for it after they’d watched a drama together once before. Jae-ha shifted over to make room. Soon the darkened room glowed with the light of the screen.
The movie’s opening was surprisingly bright. The protagonist was kissing her boyfriend sweetly—it felt more like a rom-com than a thriller.
“Sunbae, can I use your lip balm?”
The whisper slipped out between the voices filling the room.
“Hm?”
“The one on your nightstand.”
Lip balm? On the nightstand? He usually kept it on the dresser. Puzzled but not showing it, Jae-ha nodded. Hae-hyun, sitting nearby, reached over and pulled the drawer open.
The second he took it out, Jae-ha’s face stiffened.
He almost spoke, then stopped himself. Things had just settled into a good mood again—he didn’t want to ruin it over something this small. But if he didn’t say anything, Hae-hyun would think it was his and use it. That would be… really awkward. Especially since this wasn’t just any lip balm—it went on your lips. After a brief struggle, Jae-ha sighed.
“Don’t use that one.”
“…What?”
Hae-hyun paused, lid half-open, eyes puzzled. Jae-ha plucked it from his hand and tossed it aside as if hiding it.
“…It’s someone else’s.”
He hadn’t said whose, but the fruity-sweet scent clinging to it made the answer obvious enough—it belonged to his ex-girlfriend.
Jae-ha could already picture Hae-hyun’s reaction. He hadn’t even realized it was still there until now. When the hell did he notice it? …And why had she left it behind? Careless as always. A useless grumble twisted in his throat, with no one to hear it.
Instead of snapping back the way Jae-ha expected, Hae-hyun stayed silent. His gaze flicked from the lip balm in Jae-ha’s hand to his face, then back again. Finally, after a long pause, he spoke in a flat tone.
“…Have you dated a lot?”
At least Jae-ha had been right about the sullen voice. He exhaled quietly.
“…Sort of. But most of them didn’t last. Rarely ended well either.”
That much was true. It was why he hadn’t dated in a long time.
The reasons didn’t need much digging. Today alone had made it obvious enough. The endless messages, bold approaches, even subtle things he hadn’t noticed himself—Jae-ha was surrounded by it constantly.
When he was in a relationship, he tried to handle himself well. He gave his best to the person he was with, pouring his time and attention into them.
But there was no escaping the environment around Seo Jae-ha.
Even if he did nothing, people still reached out. Those who wanted to talk, hang out, get his attention—they were endless. If ten people each asked him out once, that was already ten times. And for Jae-ha, it wasn’t ten people—it was dozens.
He stood out far too much. Sometimes even he startled himself.
On average, a partner’s patience lasted a few months.
Once the early sweetness wore off, suspicion crept in. The constant watching, the sharp glances. It was still attention from someone he cared about, so he accepted it. But the problem wasn’t him—it was always his partner.
He couldn’t just cut everyone off. And even if he did, new people kept showing up. How could anyone realistically hold on to a man who drew stares just by existing? His partners knew that too.
And so, they left.
“Sorry. I can’t handle it. We’re not right together.”
Always in tears. He never had the heart to hold them back. By then, he was tired too. And so, time after time, his short relationships ended the same way.
Eventually, he grew numb. He didn’t even have the space in his heart to feel attraction anymore. He wasn’t about to force himself into something without feelings either. Every relationship started differently, but always ended the same. He was tired of the pattern. Besides—he had plenty of other ways to keep busy.
Then, one day, he’d stumbled across a stray puppy in the corner of a building.
“…Maybe I’m just not built for relationships.”
His voice carried a faint weariness. It was all in the past, but not pleasant. Being abandoned again and again never felt good.
Even with Hae-hyun—things were great now, without dating. But if they actually did start…
“That doesn’t make sense.”
The sudden interruption cut off Jae-ha’s thoughts. He looked up to see Hae-hyun scowling at the air.
“What does being popular have to do with breaking up?”
“….”
“It’s not like you were hiding it or leading anyone on. If your partner knew you were popular, shouldn’t they have held on tighter so no one could take you? If they hated people clinging to you while you were together, how could they be okay with it after breaking up? That’s backwards. I’d hate it even more. After all, I wouldn’t even be able to say anything then.”
“…People aren’t objects you can steal or not steal.”
Jae-ha tried to deflect, but Hae-hyun ignored him.
“If they dumped you over something that trivial, then they didn’t love you much to begin with. Have you only dated petty people like that? Sunbae, you’re terrible at picking. Why’s your taste so bad?”
The words came blunt, shameless, and scolding on top of it. It was so honest it was almost absurd. Jae-ha had rarely spoken about his past relationships, so he couldn’t tell if this was normal.
But strangely, it made him feel lighter.
“What’s wrong with my taste?”
He even had the energy to tease.
“So, what is your type then?”
“I don’t really have one. Just a feeling.”
“Then you should never gamble.”
“…You cheeky brat.”
Clang! Their playful back-and-forth was suddenly drowned out by a loud crash from the tablet. On screen, the protagonist was slamming a steel door. Oh, right. We were watching a movie. Only then did Jae-ha tune back in.
The heroine was now screaming for her life, voice raw with terror. Just a moment ago it had been all sweetness and romance. He had no idea what happened in between.
“…We missed everything.”
Blinking blankly, Jae-ha suddenly burst out laughing.
“Now what? I don’t get a single thing.”
Grumbling playfully, he felt Hae-hyun reach for the tablet. Their bodies were pressed so close that Jae-ha clearly felt the movement—and the warmth radiating from him. Hae-hyun’s hand brushed against his, hot enough to sting, before pulling back.
“Rewind it. From the part where she goes to work.”
“…That far back?”
That was basically the beginning, right after the title sequence. He clearly hadn’t paid any attention at all. Jae-ha laughed again. For some reason, his mood was ridiculously good.
