Every time I tried to think of Park Sion as a decent guy, there was always one prickly thought that snagged me. His relationship with Jung Suwon.
“Then... can I ask you something?”
Park Sion slowly nodded. I hesitated for a long time before carefully voicing the question I’d kept buried in my mind all this time.
“Why did you act that way toward Jung Suwon?”
Maybe because my question came without context, Park Sion tilted his head and widened his eyes. He frowned slightly, as if wondering why Jung Suwon’s name suddenly came up. Then he answered, his voice slightly stiff.
“Why are you bringing him up all of a sudden?”
His eyes, which had just held confusion, started to sink with weight. His cool hand fell away, and he moved in close. He leaned down a bit, tilting his head as if trying to meet my gaze. I could feel his shallow breath brushing my cheek. It was starting to feel a little suffocating. Wasn’t he too close?
Uncomfortable, I quickly dropped my eyes and pulled back slightly. In that moment, my gaze brushed against his lips—slightly curled, faintly red. I forgot how to breathe.
Park Sion just looked at me like it was nothing.
“What did Jung Suwon say to you?”
He asked slowly, each word pronounced with purpose. His eyes stayed locked on mine, but his hand gripped mine tightly on my knee.
“I asked you what he said.”
He tightened his grip, like he was trying to pull my gaze back up.
Jung Suwon had never said anything to me about Park Sion. It was just that what happened at the snack bar kept bothering me.
I should’ve just explained that, but his heavy gaze made the words stick in my throat. He wasn’t even angry, but his low voice made it hard to speak. Park Sion had this way of making people tense, even without trying.
But right now, silence wasn’t gold—it was poison. I couldn’t make Jung Suwon out to be some tattletale. I forced my lips apart.
“No, he didn’t say anything. Just…”
“Just what?”
“That time, at the snack bar…”
“Yeah?”
Park Sion narrowed his eyes. He frowned slightly, like he was trying to recall something, then stared into the air. But maybe it wasn’t coming to him, because he asked again.
“What do you mean? The snack bar?”
“You spilled cup noodles on him.”
“So?”
“Wasn’t that on purpose?”
“Me?”
Park Sion let out a laugh like a sigh and leaned away from me. He slumped into the couch with a thud. The weight in his eyes seemed to lift a little. He gave a crooked smile.
“I told you that was an accident. I even apologized.”
He ran a hand through his hair as he spoke. His voice and gestures were light, but his eyes sparkled with interest as he looked at me.
“All this time, you thought I did it on purpose?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Because Jung Suwon’s reaction was weird.”
“How?”
“Well…”
“Didn’t I apologize and smooth things over?”
On the surface, sure. Park Sion had apologized for the spill, and Jung Suwon hadn’t said much. But his eyes stuck with me. That anxious look when I tried to get close. The way he stared at Park Sion’s back as he walked away—it stayed in my throat like a thorn.
“Why would I do that on purpose?”
It was all just a feeling. You could call it instinct. The kind of raw, animal-like sense only people who’ve been bullied without reason can pick up on. It can’t be explained in words—it’s something only those who've lived it can recognize. The dissonance between those anxious eyes and Park Sion’s relaxed ones—that uncomfortable discord—I remembered it clearly.
“I’m asking why you think that.”
But maybe I was just being paranoid. I sucked at relationships, and after what happened with Kim Shinju, I’d been constantly on edge. My past might’ve warped my ability to see things clearly. After all, instinct isn’t proof of anything. It only becomes valid when the truth finally comes out.
“Yoon Seonwoo. Look at me. Do you really think I did it on purpose?”
I couldn’t answer. My mouth wouldn’t open. The longer I stayed silent, the more his gaze dropped.
The moment I met his eyes—eyes full of disbelief, like he was being wronged—the scales in my mind tipped. Between trusting my gut and accepting that this might all be unfounded paranoia, I leaned toward the latter.
Once again, my loss. Park Sion’s win—or rather, his damn face’s win.
“You thought I was some kind of jerk this whole time?”
“Not exactly. I just thought... maybe there was something between you two.”
“…”
“Do you and Jung Suwon not get along?”
“I dunno. We don’t really interact.”
He scratched between his eyebrows as he answered. He looked a little annoyed but then locked eyes with me like usual.
“He might have his reasons to hate me, but I’ve got no particular feelings toward him.”
I nodded without thinking. Park Sion let out a dry, breathy laugh. Our eyes met for a brief moment.
“Yoon Seonwoo.”
“Yeah?”
“That really was an accident. You can believe that.”
He said it softly. His hand found mine. He was smiling faintly, like a feather drifting through the air. I didn’t shake him off. I didn’t know why, but hearing him say I could trust him felt... nice.
“Yeah. If you say so, then it wasn’t.”
“You believe me?”
He chuckled and ruffled my hair. His eyes curved so gently I felt guilty for ever doubting him. The heavy mood had lifted. Maybe it was the heat of the summer night, but my cheeks felt warm.
“Next time, don’t just think about it on your own. Ask me directly.”
“Yeah. Okay.”
The moment I answered, Park Sion laid his head back down on my thigh. My leg tingled again. I lost track of where to put my hands—one floated in the air before landing on the floor, the other near his shoulder. Every time he shifted his head, his hair brushed my fingers.
“And I’m sleeping over tonight.”
I froze at his sudden words, tangled up in the itch of contact.
“I’ll stay over. That’s okay, right?”
It was hard to tell if it was a question or a declaration. Park Sion lay on my thigh, staring up at the ceiling. I licked my lips.
“Uh, but… what about Shin Jaeyoung and Kim Youngjin? Don’t you need to go to them?”
“I have more fun when I’m with you.”
I thought he’d show up late to the promised meeting spot at least. That would’ve made more sense. I’m not exactly a fun person—so what part of me does he find entertaining? It was obvious the noisy side over there would be more enjoyable than being stuck in our boring house.
But Park Sion chose to be with me.
Even though I didn’t act hurt or try to stop him.
Suddenly, a strange feeling crept over me.
Something like relief, or maybe superiority. A wave of emotion I’d never felt before surged up. The faint heat that had been lingering in my cheeks spread all the way to my fingertips. Slowly, the corners of my lips curled upward.
I didn’t want to look too excited and get caught. I adjusted my tone to sound as calm as possible.
“Sure, do whatever. Did you get your parents’ permission?”
“They’re both out of the country for a while.”
“So you’re staying alone? Do you cook for yourself?”
“There’s someone who takes care of that.”
Park Sion said something that only some rich heir in a drama would say.
Here I was, worrying in my humble, working-class way about whether he was eating properly—and ended up scratching my neck awkwardly for it.
Park Sion looked up at me with a familiar smile.
Just like always, he reached out like he was about to touch my cheek again.
I quietly looked over Park Sion as he toyed with my face. His long, narrow eyes had faint inner eyelids that came and went whenever he blinked. His lips curled just slightly at the ends, and maybe it was the pale cheeks, but his face came off a little pretty at first glance.
But the high bridge of his nose, his sharp jawline—and above all, the cool glint in his eyes—clearly drew masculine lines.
In short, it was a good-looking face.
If I had any artistic talent, I would’ve wanted to carve or paint it.
Park Sion, the top student who has everything going for him.
Park Sion, insanely good-looking.
Park Sion, whose smile is beautiful.
Park Sion, who does whatever he wants but still has a gentle side.
A guy with absolutely nothing to be ashamed of... sees me as his top priority.
Thinks of me as someone special.
“Why are you looking at me like that? You’re gonna make my heart race.”
I hadn’t realized Park Sion was staring at me without blinking—too focused on his face.
I quickly looked away with an awkward laugh. His voice followed, teasing and amused.
“Am I too handsome?”
“I was just looking.”
“You were practically burning a hole through me.”
Park Sion’s words sounded incredibly smug.
I squirmed with embarrassment, but what could I say? I was the idiot who stared.
But what had me so captivated wasn’t just his handsome face.
It was the way Park Sion treated me as a one-of-a-kind friend. That’s what made my heart flutter.
Still, Park Sion, who didn’t understand my innocence, kept grinning like an idiot and poked my side again.
“Did you fall for me?”
He raised his upper body and looked straight at me as he said it.
Did you fall for me?
That line made me burst out laughing before I could stop myself.
The fact that my attitude was being misread as some dirty, horny intention—it was ridiculous.
No matter how good-looking he was, Park Sion was a guy. And no matter how fluttery his special treatment made me feel, it was all grounded in friendship—nothing more.
“As if. Are you crazy?”
The second I said it firmly, Park Sion’s expression changed—something unreadable passed through his eyes.
It looked like he didn’t believe me.
Even he was starting to question my sexuality, and I wanted no part of that.
I didn’t want some dumb misunderstanding to ruin the one friend I’d made with so much effort.
I grabbed his shoulder, still blinking slowly, and made my voice as clear and firm as I could.
“I like girls.”
So there’s no need to worry.
When I said it seriously, Park Sion silently curled up one side of his lips.
“If you’re staying over, I’ll go get you something comfortable to wear.”
That slight, gentle smirk made him look weirdly irritated for some reason.
But for me—swept up in the feeling of a friend sleeping over for the first time in my life—I didn’t have the brain space to notice the subtle shift in Park Sion’s mood.
When I came out after showering, Park Sion had already washed up and taken over my bed.
I looked at the bed, which was clearly too small for two guys, with some hesitation.
Still, he was a guest—I couldn’t make him sleep on the couch.
I grabbed a pillow and a blanket.
“You sleep on the bed. I’ll take the couch.”
“Why?”
“You wanna sleep on the couch?”
“No.”
“Then?”
“We should sleep together.”
Park Sion tilted his head like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Then he patted the space next to him.
“Come on. Lie down.”
“It’s too narrow for both of us.”
“I sleep super still.”
Sometimes, this guy had a real talent for not understanding people.
And this was one of those times.
“Come lie down next to me.”
Did he really not get what I meant? Or was he pretending not to get it?
If I flat-out said I was uncomfortable lying back-to-back with him, he’d probably accuse me of being weird about “two guys” sleeping together.
No point arguing—I’d just end up giving in anyway.
Like always, I’d fall for Park Sion’s bullshit.
Instead of saying anything, I tossed him a thin blanket and stood up.
“Forget it. Just sleep comfortably by yourself.”
“Sleep here.”
“I’ve got bad sleeping habits.”
But the moment I tried to walk away, he grabbed my arm.
“I don’t mind.”
Yeah, you don’t mind—but I do.
I tried to resist, but he tugged on my arm like a sulking child.
It should’ve been creepy, that kind of behavior not matching his usual self—but instead, I felt myself soften.
Must’ve been his face. That damn face.
I reluctantly sat down on the edge of the bed.
“Do we really have to sleep together?”
“It’s scary sleeping alone in a strange house.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Don’t bullshit me.”
“I’m serious.”
Park Sion chuckled softly as he pulled me by the waist.
I lost my balance and toppled onto the bed.
Next thing I knew, I was lying with my head on his arm.
Park Sion looked down at me with a smirk—totally shameless.
“If I throw my leg over you in my sleep, it’s not my fault.”
I pushed his arm away from under my neck as I spoke.
When I shoved lightly, he backed off without resistance.
Looks like I’ll have no choice but to sleep on this cramped bed with him tonight.
I lay down next to Park Sion and pulled the blanket up to my chin.
Even though it was my bed, something about the touch, the smell—everything felt unfamiliar.
Park Sion casually turned to face me, lying on his side.
Meanwhile, I turned my back to him and faced the wall.
There was no way in hell I could sleep face-to-face with him. I’d die first.
As I pressed closer to the wall, Park Sion slowly expanded his territory and scooted toward me.
The cold of the wall seeped through my back.
But just behind me, I could feel the warmth of another person with a similar body temperature.
Not too hot, not too cold.
Comfortably lukewarm.
My eyelids, exhausted from studying, quickly grew heavy.
“You asleep already?”
His voice—lower and softer now—pulled me back just as sleep was about to take me.
Then came a grumble about how I could just pass out the second my head hit the pillow.
“I always fall asleep right away.”
“Must be nice. Not a care in the world.”
“You can’t sleep?”
“Nope.”
“Then close your eyes and count sheep.”
“Seonwoo, you know friends are supposed to stay up talking all night. Didn’t you know that?”
He tugged me toward him as he spoke, gently turning me so I faced his direction.
Now that I thought about it, he wasn’t wrong.
I vaguely remembered cartoon scenes from when I was a kid—kids having pillow fights late into the night before falling asleep.
I forced my heavy eyes to stay open.
“What kind of talking do you want?”
“Just talk about yourself.”
“Like what?”
“Everything. What you like, what you don’t. Stuff like that.”
I paused, trying to figure out where to start.
Park Sion’s eyes sparkled in the dark as he waited for my answer.
“What I like is…”
“…”
“…beef. Especially ribeye.”
Park Sion’s chest rose at my sleepy, honest words. A breath touched with laughter brushed my ear. It tickled for no reason, and I reflexively swept my hand over my ear.
“Why are you laughing.”
“It’s just funny. I didn’t expect the word ‘ribeye’ to come out of your mouth.”
“You laugh at everything. Do you even realize how easily you laugh?”
“Let’s go eat it together next time. My treat.”
Park Sion leaned in closer as he said that. I’d never say no to a promise like that. I reached into the air and held out my pinky. No take-backs. When I said that, Park Sion naturally hooked his finger around mine.
“What do you dislike?”
Without any sign of wanting to let go of our fingers, Park Sion wrapped his whole hand around mine this time. He slowly guided my hand to his head. Was he asking me to touch him? As I felt the soft texture with my fingertips, my hand reflexively twitched.
“What I hate... there’s too much.”
“Tell me everything. I want to fall asleep listening to your voice.”
“I don’t like toothpaste-flavored ice cream, dry heater air, the smell of sweat in a classroom during summer, and checkered flannel shirts.”
“And what else?”
“…Lies. People who lie.”
As I listed the things I disliked one by one, something caught in my throat like a rock. My fingers compulsively ran through Park Sion’s hair. I was afraid that, caught in the moment, I might end up spilling everything inside me. So I hurriedly threw a question back at him.
“What about you, Park Sion? What do you dislike?”
“Hmm, I…”
Park Sion shifted positions and turned to face me. I also ended up lying on my side. Without hesitation, he opened his mouth.
“What I like is you.”
“…What the hell, you freak.”
I expected him to smirk and tease me, but the expression in his eyes staring straight into mine was serious. The drowsiness evaporated instantly.
“I mean it. I like you more than beef.”
“Hey, saying that makes me sound like trash.”
Having put food above friendship, unintentionally becoming a one-dimensional person, I glared at him with an awkward expression.
“Then just start liking me most from now on. I’ll buy you beef often.”
I shook my head at his absurd logic.
Not like it was the first time he said something sappy.
By now, trying to separate what was sincere from what was teasing felt meaningless.
It’s not a crime to tell your friend you like them more than beef.
I lay back down on my back.
“Then what do you dislike?”
“What I dislike…”
“…”
“My father.”
There was no emotion in his voice.
Not even a faint shadow of gloom.
His voice, naming his own father, was so dry it almost sounded bitter.
I didn’t know what to say.
In fact, I felt like I shouldn’t say anything.
I couldn’t just nod at him badmouthing his dad, but I also couldn’t overstep and try to offer advice.
As I stared awkwardly at the ceiling, Park Sion asked me with casual ease.
“What about you? Did you like your dad?”
The apathetic voice whispered near my ear.
It was a low tone, spoken very close.
Park Sion guided the hand that had been resting near his head down toward his chest.
The moment that forgotten memory stirred, my chest trembled.
So then, do I… do I still like my dad?
He was someone who, like any parent, solidly supported the ground beneath my feet.
The same was true of my mom.
I’d grown up sheltered under their shade.
Aside from having to move homes frequently, my childhood was mostly smooth.
Suddenly, the last image I had of my dad tore through my memory.
His back as he walked out the front door in that old green checkered flannel shirt.
His feet that stopped for a moment when I grabbed his arm.
Those sad eyes looking at my face as I asked when he’d be back.
His hesitating lips.
That tongue that told a lie—saying he’d be home by dinner.
“My dad never touched alcohol. Not even once…”
Like someone drunk, my mouth moved on its own.
“He died in a drunk driving accident. They said he went off a cliff while drunk. I just… don’t get it.”
That’s why I decided on my own that his death wasn’t an accident.
I concluded that he’d committed suicide.
There was a time when I tried to figure out what had made him want to die.
On the surface, it seemed like it was because Mom left.
But I didn’t want to blame her for his death.
I don’t think divorce is the kind of pain that justifies giving up on life.
Dad was a stubborn, old-fashioned military man.
Family had been his life’s purpose.
If everyone has a weak point, then maybe family was my father’s Achilles’ heel.
Maybe that’s why he despaired so deeply from a single moment of failure.
I often want to ask him:
Life is sometimes happy and sometimes hopeless.
Fate never shows mercy. It hands out misfortune equally.
You lived more years than I have.
Didn’t you know that both happiness and suffering are fleeting?
And if you did know that… why the hell did you choose death?
How could you?
My conclusion is simple.
My dad was both weak and cruel.
That’s the only way I can explain his death.
He gave up on life because he was weak—and abandoned me because he was cruel.
Thoughts tangled and spilled forward.
Moonlight from outside the window cast soft shadows on the ceiling.
The sound of someone breathing. The ticking of the clock. All in rhythm.
It felt like a night where I could say anything and it’d be okay.
It felt strange, speaking out loud something I’d never told another soul.
“He said he’d be back for dinner when he left.
But maybe he never planned to come back.
That thought crosses my mind sometimes.”
“So… do you hate him?”
“I don’t know. I used to resent him a lot, but not anymore.
As time passed, it just… quieted down.”
“…”
“Now it’s just… a little sad. A little hollow.”
I once heard someone say that growing up means making peace with the unbearable flaws of your parents.
That quote made me depressed for days.
How do you make peace with someone who’s already gone—who you no longer have to bear?
In the end, to my father, I was only someone who could make him hesitate for one fleeting step—not someone who could make him stay.
That was the true weight of our bond.
Just that.
And that’s what feels so damn sad and hollow.
“Park Sion. Why do you hate your dad?”
To shake off the lingering traces of a past I didn’t want to remember, I deliberately asked him a question.
Then a cold voice answered.
“Because he’s a fucking bastard.”
Park Sion said it with absolute certainty.
Even in the dark, his eyes flashed with bitter sharpness.
Neither of us belonged inside the walls of a real family.
That truth was a little lonely, but it also gave us a strange sense of kinship.
Maybe Park Sion felt the same—his heavy arm wrapped tight around my waist.
He pulled me in with his full weight, holding me close.
I felt his head rest against my shoulder.
Relationships with the living always come with possibilities.
I wanted to tell him—someday, you might make peace with the things you couldn’t forgive.
But I forced the words back down.
It didn’t feel like mine to say.
It would’ve been nothing but arrogant advice.
Park Sion stared at my face for a long time as I blankly watched the shadows on the ceiling.
I could feel his gaze even without turning.
His hand came close to my face.
Long fingers brushed through my still-damp hair.
“If I say I’m glad you’re kinda like me, does that make me a piece of shit?”
I smiled at his self-deprecating voice.
If you’re a piece of shit, then I’m one too.
Because we were finding a weird kind of comfort in each other’s misery.
The hand that had been holding my waist drifted up near my face.
Park Sion’s long fingers brushed over my bangs.
A soft voice traveled to me through the dark.
“When you did this earlier, it made me feel better.”
I wasn’t that upset, honestly.
But that gentle touch, which had stirred me before, slowly calmed me down.
I let the feather-light strokes settle me and slowly closed and opened my eyes.
I caught glimpses of Park Sion’s gaze in the dark—appearing and vanishing.
I remembered what he’d said earlier about not being able to sleep.
So I reached out and touched his hair, too.
But drowsiness washed over me right away.
My fingers, which had been stroking his hair, moved slower and slower.
“Go to sleep.”
Park Sion’s voice came through the haze as my consciousness blurred.
The blanket over us rose and fell like the gills of a fish.
I felt his hand, which had been playing with my hair, slowly travel down—
to my forehead, my cheek… and then to my lips.
It was just warm enough, just ticklish enough.
And like that, I fell asleep.