It was an unexpected apology. Was this another ploy, just like how he had made fools of those people earlier? Shin-jae’s eyes narrowed.
“I figured you must’ve thought I wasn’t any different from them.”
But Sa-yoon simply shrugged once and answered in a subdued voice.
“You’re… different from them, hyung.”
He hadn’t secretly taken photos of him, nor had he posted his location coordinates online. He didn’t go around talking behind his back. And, of course, he hadn’t stolen his belongings to pleasure himself with.
On the contrary, Sa-yoon had bought him meals, been considerate enough to switch out drinks he couldn’t have, and had even thrown himself in harm’s way to take a hit for him.
And then there was Shin-jae’s birthday. He had been the only one who had worried about him when he was unreachable. No one else had. Not even the parents who had brought him into this world.
Thinking back, even when Sa-yoon had been told to show him what gay flirting was like, he had only ever treated him kindly. Back then, everything had overlapped in a mess, so it had felt overwhelming. But in hindsight, what Sa-yoon had done hadn’t even been remotely bad.
It was probably because he was simply kind by nature.
“What do you mean, different? I chased you around like crazy too. Must’ve been annoying. Though… I admit, the egg thing was a bit much. Not letting me wash my hands after I got a burn on my—mmph.”
Shin-jae clamped a hand over Sa-yoon’s mouth before his list of sins could spill out any further. Not the best move. Warm breath tickled against his palm, escaping from those lips he had just silenced.
“Still, I’m glad we made up. Right?”
As Sa-yoon spoke, his lips moved against his hand, the sensation vivid and unmistakable. Startled, Shin-jae yanked his hand away as if burned.
“Oh? Look at you, all grown up. You even dare to shut me up now?”
Sa-yoon reached out, ruffling Shin-jae’s hair out of habit. And Shin-jae—despite being taller—let him. Sa-yoon probably had no idea how much he hated people touching his head, how sensitive he was to physical contact.
“Shall we go check things out now? There are some pretty unique booths this time. Did you see? Some even have interactive experiences. Anything you want to check out?”
The questions rained down on him in rapid succession, but Shin-jae stood frozen, saying nothing.
He had always thought it was a lie—those clichés about falling for someone, how the world supposedly bloomed with flowers, how that person became the only thing in sight. But the moment Sa-yoon smiled, the world blurred. Everything around him faded into a hazy backdrop. Only Sa-yoon remained, vivid and clear.
And so, the only thing he could say was—
“Anywhere’s fine.”
***
Fossils this, fossils that—wherever they walked, someone who knew Sa-yoon inevitably showed up.
“Oh! Sa-yoon sunbae!”
Just like that.
“Oh, hey, Hanna. Long time no see.”
“Sunbae! Have some cotton candy before you go!”
If Shin-jae was someone who attracted crowds just by having his location posted, Sa-yoon was simply someone who knew a lot of people.
A tiny girl, barely tall enough to reach their chests, tugged on Sa-yoon’s sleeve. She beamed as she eagerly handed over her card for payment, her wrist already adorned with a glowing bracelet and a twisted thread band.
Shin-jae frowned slightly at the sight of the cotton candy stand lined with rows of the sugary fluff. He couldn’t understand why people willingly paid for something that was basically 100% sugar.
Then his gaze landed on Sa-yoon, who stood next to the cotton candy machine. His date.
Sa-yoon, in an ivory-colored anorak, was placing an order with an unusually serious expression.
It was unexpected. Shin-jae had always thought Sa-yoon would prefer dressing in all black, but he actually had a preference for light-colored clothes. The last time he asked about it, Sa-yoon had laughed and said, “With my face, if I dressed in all black, people would think I was a Grim Reaper.”
He looks like a chick.
Maybe it was because of his fair skin, but every color suited him perfectly. As if to prove the point, he accepted a freshly spun yellow cotton candy—it matched his outfit so well it looked like part of a set. It even matched Hanna’s yellow T-shirt.
“Oh, Hanna, Hanna. Your some guy, huh?”
“What are you talking about?”
As a second cotton candy was being made, a man in clown makeup and a yellow T-shirt suddenly appeared. Now that Shin-jae looked closer, those two were the ones actually dressed like a couple.
After staring at them in silence for a few seconds, Shin-jae finally realized that the yellow shirts were just the club’s uniform for the booth.
“This guy’s got a nasty personality, you sure about him?”
“Ugh, seriously! Go away!”
While the clown teased the girl spinning the cotton candy, he kept sidling closer to her. It was painfully obvious—he was interested in her.
What the hell?
The real problem, however, was Sa-yoon. He just stood there, arms crossed, chuckling as if he were some enlightened sage.
Why wasn’t he denying the whole “some guy” thing? Completely oblivious to the grumpy glare Shin-jae was giving him, Sa-yoon playfully tapped the clown on the arm and leaned in to whisper something in his ear.
Moments later, the clown’s face turned bright red. He hesitated for a second, then awkwardly slunk away.
Why were there so many people drawn to Sa-yoon? Even people he had just met today acted like that. There was never a moment when he wasn’t surrounded by others.
An unsettling anxiety crept up on Shin-jae.
What would happen once the short film project was over? What would become of his relationship with Sa-yoon? They had different majors, different ages, different personalities, and completely different social circles. It was obvious what they’d become.
They’d be nothing more than acquaintances who randomly bumped into each other at events like this, exchanged a few polite words, and then went their separate ways. Just another contact buried in Cha Sa-yoon’s never-ending phonebook. At best, they might remain online gaming buddies.
Even now, Sa-yoon was smiling as he handed over the cotton candy, telling the girl, “It was nice seeing you again. Do your best.”
Imagining himself in that scenario—being just another name in Sa-yoon’s contacts, just another casual acquaintance—made his chest tighten uncomfortably. He didn’t want that.
He wanted to be something more.
The thought struck him hard. Before he realized it, his fingers clenched into fists, his nails digging into the soft flesh of his palm.
“It’s a sweet time, a sweet time indeed.”
Having just witnessed the budding romance unfold right in front of him, Sa-yoon returned to Shin-jae with a satisfied smile.
“Huh?”
He was about to proudly hand over his spoils of war, but in just that brief moment, Shin-jae’s expression had changed drastically.
Could it be those people again? Alarmed, Sa-yoon instinctively pulled Shin-jae behind him and scanned their surroundings, but the only people around were ordinary passersby.
“What’s wrong?”
“…Do you?”
“Do I what?”
“Do you like that girl?”
That girl? Who? Following Shin-jae’s gaze, Sa-yoon spotted Hanna bickering with the clown guy.
So that was it—Shin-jae had misunderstood. Again. Just like last time, when he mistakenly thought Sa-yoon had feelings for him.
Sa Shin-jae really had a habit of overanalyzing things.
“Me, dating Hanna? Not a chance. You think a 20-year-old would even notice an old man like me?”
Besides, she was clearly hitting it off with that lively clown.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“What?”
“A six-year age gap… That’s not that much.”
Sa-yoon blinked, both hands still holding the cotton candy.
“Since when was 20 such a big deal?”
What’s up with him today? Sa-yoon replayed his own words in his head and quickly realized his mistake.
Oh.
Shin-jae was also 20. He must’ve felt like he was being lumped in with “kids.”
“Uh, yeah. You’re right. Twenty is an adult. Here, try this.”
Silently cursing the nightmare that was late-blooming puberty, Sa-yoon shoved the cotton candy he had bought into Shin-jae’s hands.
Shin-jae, caught off guard, accepted the yellow fluff, his expression unreadable.
“…This looks like me?”
“Huh? Oh, that.”
Shin-jae twirled the stick, examining it from different angles. The cotton candy he was familiar with was always round, but this one had pointed, conical ears sticking out on both sides.
“They only had rabbits and bears, no cats. But I asked them to make it anyway.”
“A cat?”
“Yeah. They sell all kinds of stuff these days, huh? Kids these days have such creative ideas.”
Now that he mentioned it, it did vaguely resemble a cat. And at the mention of a cat, only one particular creature came to Shin-jae’s mind.
“How’s Sesame doing?”
“Sesame? Ugh, don’t even get me started. That little menace has so much energy lately. The second night falls, it’s just zoom, zoom, zoom—”
Shaking his head in exasperation, Sa-yoon grabbed a long piece of his own cotton candy and popped it into his mouth.
He kept pushing Shin-jae to try some, so eventually, Shin-jae ripped off a chunk and placed it on his tongue.
The moment it touched his tongue, it melted away, leaving behind an intense sweetness that lingered like an aftertaste of a burn.
His fingers grew sticky, his tongue overly sweet—but strangely enough, he didn’t hate it.
Sa-yoon, watching Shin-jae, suddenly leaned in and stole a piece of his yellow cotton candy, mumbling something about wondering what flavor it was. Then, without hesitation, he held out his own for Shin-jae to take.
Following suit, Shin-jae plucked a long strand from Sa-yoon’s cotton candy. The blue one tasted like soda, while the yellow was lemon-flavored.
As they walked, they absentmindedly exchanged pieces of cotton candy back and forth. Just as Sa-yoon had mentioned, this year’s festival had an unusual number of uniquely themed booths, making for an interesting stroll.
Then, Sa-yoon suddenly pointed at something.
“Shin-jae, let’s check that out.”
“Sure.”
He agreed without thinking, only to freeze when he actually read the sign.
A rustic wooden board, streaked with dripping red paint, gave off an old-school horror vibe. The words scrawled across it read:
[Haunted House – Fear in the Darkness]
