“Did you just say both you and the vice-leader went to the hospital together? Where? How badly were you hurt?”
At the mention of an injury, his gaze instinctively dropped to the hand holding his phone. It was an unconscious reaction. Fortunately, his hand had healed cleanly, without a single scar left behind.
Shin-jae’s eyes darkened. That day—no matter how angry he had been, he shouldn’t have done that. Sa-yoon might not have thought much of it, but Shin-jae had replayed that moment over and over, regretting it each time.
“Was it serious?”
Even just overhearing bits of the conversation, it sounded bad. Picking up on the tension, he quietly stood beside him. Sa-yoon gave him a brief gesture, signaling him to wait.
The voice on the other end of the call sounded somewhat desperate. There was a pleading undertone. At the same time, Sa-yoon’s eyes flickered toward Shin-jae, standing beside him.
“Oh, right now? You mean immediately?”
Hearing Sa-yoon’s reluctant response, a breath of laughter slipped from Shin-jae’s lips. So much for watching the festival together… Just when he thought today had been unusually lucky.
What he assumed would be a short call dragged on longer than expected. He was about to step away to give him space when a firm grip caught his wrist.
“Hold on. Almost done. Huh? No, not you,” Sa-yoon murmured, shaking his head at the phone. “So you want me to go check on something?”
Shin-jae glanced down at his wrist, still held in Sa-yoon’s grasp. Sa-yoon gave it a small shake, playing around.
“It won’t take long.” Sa-yoon’s voice, murmuring just above a whisper as he pulled the phone slightly away from his ear, had a way of making time feel less tedious.
But contrary to his expectation, the call dragged on a little longer.
“Yeah, I already sent the kids to pick up supplies…”
Out of habit, Sa-yoon began idly toying with Shin-jae’s wrist, much like a child fidgeting with a toy. He gripped it, released it, then repeated the motion. Before long, his thumb started moving—brushing downward, then circling over the protruding bone at the joint.
Shin-jae stared at him, utterly dumbfounded. Sa-yoon, meanwhile, was so engrossed in the conversation, focused on the pained voice on the other end, that he didn’t spare Shin-jae so much as a glance. The movements were entirely unconscious.
Everywhere Sa-yoon’s thumb passed left behind a strange, ticklish sensation. Shin-jae couldn’t decide if he wanted to scratch at it or just leave it be.
An ugly feeling stirred inside him, frustration swelling at his own hesitation. Just how often did he do this with other people for it to feel so natural?
You dated a guy before.
Seon Jung-joo. Had Sa-yoon held his wrist like this? Played with his hand? No—maybe with him, it had been even more…
Fuck. What the hell was he even thinking?
He felt like slamming his head against a wall. Being around Sa-yoon was an emotional rollercoaster—up, down, back again. His own feelings didn’t even feel like his anymore.
“Alright. I’ll head over and handle the kids for now.”
After what felt like three separate round trips between heaven and hell, the call finally ended.
“Hey, Shin-jae.”
Shin-jae quickly adjusted his expression when he saw Sa-yoon’s slightly awkward smile. He was all too familiar with what that look meant. It was the expression his mother had shown him the most.
As a child, he had truly believed that when she broke her promises, it was because she had no other choice. It wasn’t until he got older that he realized it was just a matter of hair salon appointments, golf games, or social gatherings.
Still, for a moment, he had hoped. Since he made a promise with me first, maybe this time he’ll say no to them and choose me instead.
“Our booth ran into a problem, so I need to go check on it.”
There were plenty of people in their department. Did it really have to be him? He wanted to ask but held his tongue. If he said that, Sa-yoon would definitely find him annoying.
Bzzzt—
Both of their gazes flicked to the phone. It hadn’t even been that long since the call ended, yet Sa-yoon’s phone was ringing again.
“Ah, guess it must be urgent.”
Shin-jae had been through this enough times to know exactly how to handle it. He just had to act like it didn’t bother him.
“You don’t mind if I stop by there first, right?”
“I’m fine… Huh?”
“Let’s check on the booth real quick and then walk around the festival together. I’ll take care of it fast—shouldn’t take more than thirty minutes.”
“…I—I’m going too?”
“Yeah, I’m sorry things turned out like this when we were supposed to hang out… Unless you’d rather wait at a café for a bit?”
“No! I’ll go with you. I’ll wait there.”
“Alright. Good boy.”
Sa-yoon gave him a pat on the back. It felt a little like being treated like a kid, but strangely, it didn’t bother him. For Shin-jae, the festival was just about to begin.
***
“One stir-fried squid for Table 7!”
“Table 3 just added a skewer order! Any idea how long it’ll take?”
Ding!
“Egg rolls for Table 6 are ready!”
The sound of the bell ringing in front of the cooking station signaled another completed dish. The sharp chime made Shin-jae subtly lean on his hand, pretending to rest his head while covering one ear.
The booth was a pub-style food stand bustling with customers, filled with noise and the heavy scent of various dishes.
On any other day, he wouldn’t have even thought about coming here. And even if he had, he would’ve left immediately. But right now, he was sitting right in the middle of the chaos for one reason and one reason only—because Sa-yoon was here.
Ever since they arrived, Sa-yoon had moved with startling efficiency. First, he reassured the startled customers and offered them service discounts. Then, he assigned tasks to the clueless freshmen who had been awkwardly standing around, unsure of what to do. And finally, he crouched down and started cleaning the mess on the floor himself.
As soon as the floor was cleared, the group that had gone to restock ingredients returned one after another. A large, flat pan was placed over the burner—the kind commonly used at street food stalls for tteokbokki.
Everything flowed smoothly from there. Chopped green onions, fish cakes, rice cakes, broth, and red pepper powder were added one after another, filling the pan. With a ladle in one hand and a spatula in the other, Sa-yoon stirred the ingredients together, and like magic, the dish came to life.
Less than five minutes later, a steaming plate of it was set in front of Shin-jae. Cleaning up the stall, preparing a new batch of food—Shin-jae had assumed that was all Sa-yoon had planned to do.
But every time someone stepped through the tent, they called out to him, making it impossible for him to leave.
The final nail in the coffin was when a professor arrived, accompanied by some older alumni, and immediately recognized Sa-yoon. Now, he was stuck at the center of a long banquet table, pouring drinks.
“Alright, alright! Everyone, raise your glasses!”
“Oh, professor! I’ll take the first one!”
Very enthusiastically.
Resting his chin on his hand, Shin-jae watched as the drinks were passed around. Sa-yoon, standing with both hands extended to receive a shot, looked like he was enjoying himself.
How long is it going to take for him to get out of there? Even to Shin-jae, who barely participated in department activities, it was obvious that this gathering wouldn’t end anytime soon. His gaze, following Sa-yoon’s every movement, gradually darkened.
It wasn’t because of the waiting. He was used to that by now. And it wasn’t like he was so childish that he couldn’t understand why Sa-yoon had to stay just because a professor called him over.
But if…
Sa-yoon had once said that, as a freshman, he used to stay out until sunrise every day. Maybe he enjoyed drinking and partying in large groups more than spending time one-on-one.
Then am I the one being inconsiderate?
Just as unease began creeping in, their eyes met. Sa-yoon raised an eyebrow, momentarily startled—he hadn’t realized he was being watched. Then, he wrinkled his nose playfully and smiled.
Setting his glass down, he clasped his hands together and mouthed, Sorry. I’ll be quick!
And just like that, Shin-jae’s anxiety melted away. He waved his hand, signaling that it was fine.
Someone stood up for a toast, and Sa-yoon turned his attention back to the noisy gathering.
Shin-jae, shifting slightly away from the noise, idly tapped on his phone.
Opening the messenger app, he scrolled up to the messages he had sent.
[Hyung]
[Hyung, hyung]
[Hyung, I have something to say.]
Beside them, a small “1” remained, indicating they hadn’t been read.
The first two messages had been sent from the locker room. The last one, while they were walking together from the video booth to the food stall.
He had wanted to talk about it at the festival. That’s why he had hoped Sa-yoon would check his messages.
Ding!
As soon as the notification popped up, Sa-yoon pulled out his phone. But after glancing at the message preview, he didn’t even bother replying—he just slipped it back into his pocket.
“You’re not gonna reply?”
“Nah, it’s not really urgent.”
Shin-jae clenched his eyes shut. Not urgent? He had thought it was urgent. He had always noticed that Sa-yoon was slow at responding, but ignoring it completely after reading? Even after going through the trouble of helping him pick an outfit?
It felt like overhearing a friend you thought was close casually telling someone else, “Oh, we’re not that close.”
Scowling, Shin-jae aimlessly stirred the straw in his glass. The 500ml yuzu highball that Sa-yoon had made for him as an apology had already half-melted.
How long had he been listening to the clinking of ice?
A shadow fell over his table. He snapped his head up.
“…Uh.”
Not what he expected.
Two unfamiliar women were standing in front of him.
“Are you here alone? Wanna hang out with us?”
