“Don’t tell me you ordered everything on the café menu.”
“That’s right.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t know what you’d want to drink.”
At the confident response, Sa-yoon raised an eyebrow. Wouldn’t most people just ask over text first? Do kids these days just flex at cafés like this? The way he said it so naturally made Sa-yoon momentarily wonder.
Of course not.
Shaking off the brief moment of distraction, Sa-yoon refocused. The person sitting in front of him was Sa Shin-jae—a guy as unpredictable as a rubber ball. Letting out a breath, Sa-yoon spoke.
“You went ahead and did whatever you wanted, so why are you sulking now?”
What a ridiculous guy. Sa Shin-jae had completely stolen away his sense of reason, only to now sit there with his lips jutted out like a sulky duckling.
“I thought everything would be ready before you got here. Turns out, it takes longer to make than I expected.”
Well, of course. That’s why most people just order the same thing.
Glancing toward the counter, Sa-yoon spotted the back of a busy barista. They were in the middle of making something, while another worker was washing dishes—meaning drinks were being prepared and cleaned up at the same time.
Sa-yoon turned his attention back. It was a weekend, and this guy had managed to keep both café workers occupied. In his hand, he was still holding a flat, vibrating pager—meaning he had just picked up another set of drinks. In other words, there were still more to come, and the table was already covered in drinks.
Was this some kind of prank? Like, I paid for it, so you better drink everything? No way he’d be that childish… right?
Sa-yoon raised a hand to his mouth, the thought making him crave a cigarette. He should’ve just smoked one earlier instead of hesitating.
“You could’ve just asked me.”
“If I did, you’d say that again.”
“?”
It wasn’t even a difficult question, yet suddenly, Shin-jae hesitated. That, in turn, made Sa-yoon focus on his face, waiting for a response.
A bright red tongue briefly flicked out, wetting his lower lip before disappearing. And as if that wasn’t enough, he started biting his lips, nibbling at them.
What the hell is he doing?
Just as Sa-yoon’s confusion deepened, Shin-jae finally muttered in a barely audible voice. If he hadn’t been paying close attention, he might’ve missed it entirely.
“……How could I let a kid buy me something?”
“See?”
Shin-jae was spot on. Shin-jae had wanted to buy him a drink, but if he had actually paid for it, Sa-yoon would’ve said the exact same thing, word for word. After all, it was Shin-jae who had taken time out of his golden weekend to be here.
“The other day, you even paid for our meal.”
After hearing him grumble, Sa-yoon finally pieced things together.
“So basically… you felt bad about always having me pay for you, and that’s why you did this?”
He could practically see the gears turning in Shin-jae’s head. Clearly too embarrassed to say it out loud, Shin-jae gave a tiny nod instead. Sa-yoon let out a quiet sigh through his lips.
Now that he thought about it, Shin-jae looked utterly mortified when he realized that Sa-yoon had picked up the tab at the sushi place last time.
With his sharp features and broad build, it was easy to forget—but the guy was only twenty. Technically an adult, sure, but he’d only just shed his school uniform. And on top of that, he had zero social skills.
“When that happens, you’re just supposed to say ‘thank you.’”
He probably just wanted to return the favor in his own way. Though, judging by the outcome, he had clearly overdone it. Still… the fact that someone as stubborn as him had held onto that thought all this time, trying to make up for it somehow…
It was kind of cute.
With a small chuckle, Sa-yoon reached out and ruffled the fluffy hair on Shin-jae’s head a few times without thinking. Now that he looked at him again, he wasn’t just a sulking duckling—he was more like a baby duck. His hair, illuminated by the sunlight streaming in through the large window, looked even brighter than usual.
Shin-jae’s eyes widened in surprise, likely startled by the unexpected touch.
Ah, right. Our sensitive junior.
Realizing his mistake, Sa-yoon quickly withdrew his hand. Thankfully, Shin-jae didn’t seem offended—he merely touched his own bangs lightly with his fingertips, saying nothing.
It seemed like some of the tension had eased out of him.
Even back during the accident, he had tried to take on all the blame himself. Ever since that day, his attitude had shifted. Now, looking at him, it was obvious—Sa Shin-jae absolutely hated inconveniencing others.
People really do have all kinds of sides to them.
Sa-yoon didn’t dislike this part of him.
“Still, there’s no way I can let you pay for me.”
“Sunbae, are you an idiot?”
…Of course, if only he didn’t say stuff like that.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Let’s cancel the ones they haven’t made yet.”
He felt a little bad for the café staff, but honestly, canceling the remaining drinks with a few taps on the register would be much easier for them than having to keep blending smoothies and fresh fruit juices while washing the mixer over and over.
“Why?”
“What do you mean ‘why’? How the hell are we supposed to drink all this?”
“I’m not drinking any of it. These are all for you, sunbae.”
“…And what about the ones that are already made?”
Ignoring Shin-jae’s ridiculous response, Sa-yoon swept his gaze over the drinks on the table.
After counting them carefully, he realized there were already twenty cups spread out before him.
“This isn’t some kind of challenge. There’s no way I can drink all of these.”
He couldn’t just throw them away either. No matter how he looked at it, he could probably manage three at most.
As he stared at the drinks with a serious expression, Shin-jae suddenly pushed them to one side.
“Don’t force yourself. Just drink the ones you like and toss the rest.”
“You’ve never heard that you shouldn’t waste food?”
“Are you feeling bad about wasting it? I’ll just buy you more next time.”
“It’s not about wasting money—why would you throw away perfectly good drinks?”
He considered a more practical solution—maybe handing them out to people at other tables? Just as he was thinking it over, a passerby’s bag bumped into one of the cups at the edge of the table.
“Ah!”
Sa-yoon quickly caught the nearly toppling cup and lifted his gaze. A man with unruly, curly hair sticking up like a bird’s nest was zombie-walking toward the counter.
“Sukja…?”
“Sunbae.”
“A homeless guy?”
Shin-jae’s voice dropped slightly as he called Sa-yoon’s name, as if subtly warning him not to start trouble. But Sa-yoon ignored the hint and called out to the man again, this time more clearly.
The hunched-over man came to a slow stop, then turned his head. His face was covered in an unkempt beard, looking like he hadn’t shaved in days. His fluorescent orange cargo pants, weighed down with countless pockets, were shiny at the thighs and rear from wear. His thick glasses magnified his eyes, which looked completely lifeless, like those of a dead fish.
Honestly, he looked like he had just rolled in off the streets.
As Sa-yoon planted a hand on the table and stood up, the hunched man also changed direction and started walking toward them.
“Sunbae, don’t—”
“Cha Sa-yoon!”
Before Shin-jae could finish, the two men threw their arms wide and crashed into a tight hug, slapping each other’s backs with loud smacks.
“Hey! You’re actually back from the dead and re-enrolled? Aren’t the kids freaking out, wondering why some old grandpa is showing up in class?”
“I was here last semester too, dumbass. You, on the other hand, look like you’re about to drop into a coffin any day now.”
“Fuck, is that the first thing you say when we meet?”
“Brotherhood and patriotism, you bastard.”
After that, they exchanged the usual friendly insults that old classmates shared.
“It’s been ages.”
Now grinning, No Seok-jo pushed up his glasses. The dull, lifeless look in his eyes from earlier had faded, replaced with a faint spark.
“Sukja, are you still not going home these days?”
“The bus routes changed, and I forgot the new numbers. Fuck, why did I even go to grad school?”
No Seok-jo was one of Sa-yoon’s college friends. His nickname, “homeless guy,” wasn’t just because of his name—it also came from his habit of passing out drunk in random places.
“Coffee? Another bet?”
“Of course.”
Graduate students and coffee—a cursed but unbreakable bond.
“Everyone’s here? Who?”
“Yeah, yeah, they’re all here. Dong-geun hyung, Watermelon hyung, Soo-bin, Sera noona, Gyu-won, Tae-jjo…”
One after another, familiar names popped up. There were fellow classmates, seniors, and juniors mixed in. Even just hearing the names, it was clear—the turnout was perfect.
Sa-yoon clapped a hand on his poor friend’s shoulder, who was practically burning alive in academic hell.
“Lost rock-paper-scissors again, huh?”
“That’s what I’m saying! Why the hell is it always me?”
“Because at the start, you always throw scissors, dumbass.”
“Oh, fuck.”
At that, No Seok-jo’s eyes widened as if he had just had a grand revelation. Even back in his freshman days, he had a long-standing habit that only he was unaware of—one that made him a frequent loser in these kinds of bets.
“Ah. Since there’s a bunch of people there, do you want to take some of these? I haven’t even touched them.”
“What, was there some kind of promo? Extra drinks? Man, that’s a jackpot for us.”
Since the drinks covered a variety of options, there’d be something for both caffeine lovers and non-coffee drinkers alike. Sa-yoon had been wondering what the hell to do with all of them—this worked out perfectly.
A win-win situation, really.
No Seok-jo readily agreed to take the drinks, slinging an arm over Sa-yoon’s shoulder.
“Oh, I heard you’re filming your graduation project. Casting, casting? Sa-yoonie, where’d you find such a rare gem?”
Still gloating over his lucky free drinks, Seok-jo’s gaze finally landed on Sa-yoon’s companion. The moment he saw Shin-jae’s face, his voice shot up a notch, and he jabbed Sa-yoon in the ribs with his elbow.
“Ah, ah.”
This bastard’s elbows are sharp as hell—feels like getting stabbed with a damn chisel.
For a guy who had been practically dead earlier, he was now flopping around like a freshly caught fish. Maybe it wasn’t the workload wearing him down—maybe it was just losing too many rock-paper-scissors matches.
“Hello there! I’m No Seok-jo, Sa-yoon’s classmate. Man, if you’re in front of a camera, a masterpiece’s bound to be born.”
With his usual easy going manner, Seok-jo stepped up to the table and extended a hand toward Shin-jae.
Somehow, Shin-jae had managed to relocate himself to the deepest corner of the sofa, pressing himself right up against the window. It was obvious—he definitely wanted to keep some distance.
The moment Seok-jo stretched his hand a little further toward him, Sa-yoon suddenly reached out and grabbed it—then redirected it toward the tray of drinks.
“Huh?”
Seok-jo let out a confused noise as his intended destination abruptly changed.
Even Sa-yoon glanced down at his own hand, momentarily baffled.
Why the hell did I do that?
